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akamitrani · 16 days ago

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omg i just read your dht fanfic and it was so good!! if your taking requests could i request that reader is married to david and she was with him on the set if terrifier (2024) and reader asks him to make love to her with his Art costume still on? Thanks!’ (sorry if this makes no sense lmao)

— The After-Hours Act —

David Howard Thornton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, established relationship, costume kink, roleplay (?), kissing, pining, choking, rough sex, public sex (well, kind of).

Summary: It's late at night, filming is practically done. Your husband, David, gives his final performance of the day.

[A/N: Omg hi, yes I accept requests! Thank you so much for liking my last fic 🤍 Hope you enjoy this one too, it's my first time doing smut. I absolutely loved the idea and probably had way too much fun with it lol.]

The set was alive with chaos. Flickering lights casting long, jagged shadows against the cracked walls, making the abandoned warehouse look even more sinister. Fake blood is pooled on the concrete floor and the air is thick with the smell of sweat, latex and the metallic tang of stage blood.

In the middle of it all stood David, fully transformed into the unnervingly silent and grotesque Art the Clown. His smile stretched wide under the white mask, black lips curling into a grimace that was equal parts amusing and horrifying.

You watched from the shadows just beyond the set, your eyes never leaving him. David had always been able to command a room and, as Art the Clown, he held a power that drew you in no matter how many times you had seen him in character.

The director yelled “Let's wrap it up!” and the tense energy of the set dissipated like smoke. David instantly broke character, his terrifying expression melting into his usual boyish grin as he exchanged a few words with the crew. His eyes flicked over to you and he gave you a subtle wink.

Your heart skipped a beat as he made his way toward you, still in full costume. The other crew members busied themselves with cleanup, leaving you and David in a pocket of relative privacy.

“Enjoy the show?” – he teased, voice low and familiar despite the eerie costume.

You couldn’t help but smile, mix of nerves and excitement – “You were terrifying, as always. But...” – you replied, eyes lingering on the smeared makeup around his lips – “I have a little request tonight”

David’s brow quirked in curiosity, he stayed silent, slipping back into Art’s mute persona for a moment. You took a deep breath, stepping closer so only he could hear your words...

“Can you stay in costume... For a little playtime, with me?” you whispered getting closer to him, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

For a split second you saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes, it was quickly replaced by a mischievous glimmer... He understood the idea. He nodded slowly, slipping fully back into character, his smile turning wickedly playful. Stepping back, he walked towards the door of the warehouse, locking it.

You felt a thrill shoot down your spine, you were completely alone with him now – No crew, no distractions. He moved closer to you, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator toying with its prey. The game had begun.

David – or rather, Art – stopped just inches away, tilting his head in that unnerving, silent way.

“Are you sure about this?” – he whispered, the question hanging in the air like a dare. You could see it in his eyes, he was more than ready to play along. You wanted to see just how far he would take it, how much you could handle... You nodded.

Without warning, he lunges forwards, pining you against a cold concrete wall. A gasp escapes your lips as his gloved hand wrapped around your throat, not tight enough to hurt but enough to send a wave of adrenaline through your body.

The pressure of his hand on your throat sends waves of heat between your legs, your breath coming out in short gasps. He leaned in closer, his painted lips brushing your ear, he remained silent, true to Art's unsettling nature.

You whimpered softly, feeling the undeniable desire. David's grin widened and he pushed you harder against the wall, his free hand slipping to your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel his growing bulge against your thigh, his gloves rough against your skin. His eyes bored into yours demanding submission.

You gave in willingly, letting him take control over you. The grip on your throat tightened just slightly, enough to make you even more wet.

“David...” – You breathed his name. A futile attempt to break the spell of Art's menacing silence.

But he wasn't ready to break character yet. Instead, he released his hold on your throat and captured your lips in a messy kiss, taste of makeup and sweat mixing between you two.

He pulled back, just enough to look at you. For a moment you thought he might speak, but instead he let out that eerie silent laugh, his shoulders shaking as he looked at you with a mocking expression.

“You really are good at this...” – You said, voice husky with arousal and fear.

He flashed that terrifying grin again and in a heartbeat lifted you up in his arms. You look at him with a surprised look as he carries you to the prop bed in the set and carefully throws you in it. He hovers on top of you, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him. This time you completely feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh, making you moan – “Hmm yes...”

David's hands start to wander around your body, you're completely under him, completely at his mercy. His fingers slid under your dress pushing it up, revealing your black lacy set of lingerie. He pulled back and paused for a moment, he had an idea, suddenly getting out of bed – you look at him confused.

"David? What happened?" – You asked, afraid you did something wrong. He doesn't speak, instead he silently laughs gesturing for you to wait with an excited expression.

You watch him happily reach for Art's infamous black trash bag that was in a corner, open it dramatically and start looking for something inside of it. You were about to say something, but before you could do that he threw the bag away, in his hand is a black knife with fake blood still on it. He smiles devilishly pointing to the knife... then you. You freeze, feeling genuine horror with his actions now.

David senses your growing tension and gestures with both hands as what can be understood as 'relax, I'm not going to hurt you... probably'. What an imp. He starts crawling on top of the bed towards you with a hungry look, reaching your legs. He signals for you to open them and you gladly do so, without asking questions. He pauses for a moment as if savoring the situation, the position you're in – He gives you his trademark creepy smirk.

He reaches for your panties, his finger lifted one of the side edges and in a swift motion he uses the knife to slash it, removing it and revealing your throbbing cunt – now on full display for him. You inhale sharply, the cold air making you shiver. He throws away the knife and your undies somewhere around the set.

He pulls you towards him roughly, demanding, pushing your legs more far apart. You notice his bulge is very prominent now, poking through his clown costume. David hovers above you, one hand beside your head and the other ghostly stroking your sensitive bud making you moan. You don't want to wait, can't handle teasing now – you shift slightly as a form of protest.

“Fuck me now” – You breathlessly groan

He stopped in his tracks and looked you dead in the face, up until now he has been real soft with you, taking things slowly... But if you're such a needy bitch with no patience then he will give you exactly what you want.

David pulls back slightly and gathers your legs in front of him, pushing you to the side forcing you to change positions. Your back now is exposed to him, your ass completely tilted up, he uses his knee to once more spread your legs. You tried to look back at him but he shoved your head down in the bed and unspokenly demanded you to stay this way. Not wanting to defy him again you accept his command.

You stayed like this for a few seconds wondering why nothing has happened, you couldn't help but listen to your surroundings, especially behind you – focusing on any sound, any clue to what will happen. Unbeknownst to you, your husband – Art, at the moment – was dazed at the sight before him. Pussy swollen with desire and wetness threatening to drip down your groin, enough to make his dick beg to be released.

A sudden sharp noise of tearing cloth invaded your ears, making you jump a little bit. You were scared to look back but your curiosity was louder at the moment and you couldn't help but slightly glance to the source of the sound. David had torn his clown suit to free his dick, now holding his fully erect member in his hand leaking in precum, pumping it a few times.

He caught you looking and in a futile attempt you tried to avert your gaze, too late now. He smiled wickedly and as punishment, he gave you an unexpected ruthless slap to your butt, making you hiss in both shock and pleasure. The stinging sensation only adding to your burning heat. He continued – two, three, four, five slaps – smacking until you were moaning for the pain, for him.

“Mmm-aah fuck” – you moaned – “fuck me, just fuc-”

Your phrase cut short when he entered your pussy, shoving his dick deep inside you then completely out in a excruciatingly slow speed. He was taunting you, giving you what you wanted but not in the way intended to.

“Mmmm Dave, please ah- please...” – You cried out. You could feel the clown smirking behind you.

David started picking up speed, pounding hard, grabbing your waist for stability. There will definitely be some purple digits engraved there tomorrow.

You can hear his ragged breath and occasional whimpers, you're surprised he could maintain Art's silent persona this far. David is usually quite vocal, he enjoys praising you during sex. The difference is noticeable, you're still unsure about it... On the other hand, his much more dominant demeanor when portraying Art makes up for it.

He takes his dick out and flips you on your back to face him again, he takes your legs and puts them on his shoulder. He promptly aligned his shaft with your entrance again, staring directly at you. David's half-lidded blue eyes peaking through the white mask, black lips slightly open indicating breathlessness. Pounding you, he pushed your bra out of the way, he loved the erotic sight of your tits bouncing just for him.

His cock deliciously hit your sweet spot with expertise – he just knows how to make you feel good – feeling the climax build up more and more on your stomach on each thrust he gives, you're almost there.

He leans in closer to you, one of his hands grabs your throat while the other stays at your waist, pining you completely onto the bed. He's choking you mercilessly, cutting your oxygen this time.

David picks up his speed really fast, making the prop bed creak loudly, the sound of rough slapping skin filling the set – Your orgasm threatening to crash down. The stimulation is overwhelming and you can't hold it anymore.

His dick hits hard and deep in your pussy – you deliciously cum, your juices spilling all over his shaft. He nods maniacally feeling your tightening warm cunt around his cock, it was all that he needed to reach his peak – closing his eyes and throwing his head back, he ejaculates inside you with one final thrust. He releases the hold on your neck allowing you to gasp for air.

You see his face contorting and you think he might break character now. Instead he opened his eyes and smiled at you while clapping his hands cheerfully. The way he stayed silent, embodying Art’s menacing playfulness, drove you to the edge.

He removes himself from you, sweating, panting. You suddenly feel the exhaustion and so does he – literally plopping himself on the bed, by your side.

“I love you so much, you know that?” – he finally spoke after some minutes, the real David finally breaking through.

It was such a relief to hear his voice again – “I love you too... Even when you're being a complete psycho” – you teased, still breathless.

David laughed, genuinely – “I hope I wasn't too rough” – he said, pressing his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around your waist in a comforting embrace.

“Maybe a little” – you admitted, resting your hands against his chest – “But I like it when you surprise me”

David smiled, leaning in to kiss the top of your head, filled with all the tenderness you knew him for. It was just the two of you, sharing a quiet moment.

“Thank you” – he murmured – “For loving all sides of me... Even the creepy ones”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his chest – “I wouldn’t have it any other way”

You knew this was a moment you’d cherish – a memory of the man you loved, both the sweet husband and domineering clown... And tonight, you have experienced both.

“Alright, alright. I think we've given Art enough playtime for one night.” - he murmured, gently caressing your back. He kissed you one last time before preparing to get out of bed.

“I think I'll have to buy another clown costume” – he joked, pointing at his groin area, where he had ripped the fabric.

“And new panties for me, ruined my favorite one” – you added with a fake pout pointing at the long gone undies, currently at the floor. (rip undies)

“Yeah, sorry about that... I- I don't know what I was doing honestly” – he said looking down

“No, no. None of that. I loved everything. All of it.” – You quickly replied, forcing him to look at you. You could swear you saw a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

“C'mon, let's get out of here” – He said sweetly, slipping his hand into yours – “We've had enough fun for one night”

Some minutes later as you both walked out of the darkened set hand in hand, you realized what you had just experienced was a moment you'd never forget. Fear, love and desire collided in the most thrilling way.

#david howard thornton #art the clown #david howard thornton x reader #art the clown x reader #david howard thornton imagine #terrifier 3 #terrifier 2 #terrifier #david howard thornton smut #art the clown smut #thank you to my man #on my knees for him

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assriels · 4 months ago

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lose control | chapter i

pairing: azriel x day court!reader

word count: 4.4k

warnings: minimal porn WITH plot (i promise there’s a purpose lmao), friends with benefits & conflicted emotions, a lot of az and reader’s thoughts, slow burn, pining, angst if u squint

summary: azriel sneaks into your study and your all too familiar dance continues. though, this time feels different, and his century long effort to tamp his feelings down begins to unravel.

a/n: this first chapter is a lot longer than i intended lol but strap in bbs its just getting started (takes place from before to after war with hybern)

prologue

When Azriel saw the familiar roofs of the Day Court palace, one flickering faelight lamp illuminating the sheer white curtains leading into your study, he sighed. He didn’t know why he was here for the second night in a row. The mission Rhys sent him on was supposed to be a quick one, and it would have been had he not drawn it out for longer than he had to.

It was his second night in the Day Court, and though he had finally sent word back to Rhys about the details of his task well done and that he’d be home as soon as possible, he still found himself here. Still gliding through the familiar air of your residence, wings instinctively – traitorously – bringing him to the balcony of your study rather than to his home court.

He landed smoothly on the railing of your balcony. Your wards were open to him, just like the night before and every other night for the last century.

Azriel sighed again as he peeked through your doors in the cover of shadow – trying, and failing, not to feel like a creep – watching as you hunched over your desk, endless sheafs of paperwork littering your desk in a way that always had him questioning how you managed to be so organized and efficient. An ornately carved mahogany and gold kiseru pipe balanced precariously on a porcelain stand, tendrils of white smoke curling in mimicry of the shadows at his feet.

It was a bad habit you had, smoking. One he knew you had tried to kick on many occasions, only for it to come rearing its ugly head at times where you and stress were one and the same. Whatever you had just been working on must have been especially irritating. Azriel had a feeling he knew what it was; his own work tipping him off to the rumblings of a Prythian-wide conflict, soon unavoidable.

He stealthily made his way into your study, noticing immediately the way your shoulders were fraught with a tension that you tried to chase away with a roll of your neck. He was momentarily shocked at the sudden urge he felt tingling in his fingertips to massage away the ache, but he ignored it, tucked it in the back of his mind like he always did with the rest of the sudden urges he had to cross the unspoken line you both drew between lovers and friends.

If you noticed his presence, you didn’t show it, opting instead to roll your shoulders back in a display of obvious discomfort, a sigh escaping your lips for the third time since Azriel had arrived.

“You misspelled ‘Prythian’,” he said, amusement peppering his words as he peered over your shoulder at some missive you unsuccessfully attempted to write.

Again, if you were surprised at his sudden appearance, you didn’t let on.

“I thought spies were supposed to be sneaky,” you quipped back, turning your head to look at him with a look of annoyance that was so obviously exaggerated. “I wasn’t aware that being an expert in grammar and usage was in your job description.”

When he felt his lips curve upwards in a smile he couldn’t ever seem to fight in your presence, he ignored – yet again – the affection he felt bubbling beneath the cage of his ribs.

“Long night?” he asked, plopping himself down into the seat on the other side of your desk. He didn’t miss the fact that you had at some point replaced the chair with one big enough to accommodate his wings.

Your facade fell quickly and you slumped against your own chair, your exhaustion overcoming every muscle fiber in your body, fingers twitching to reach for the pipe on your desk, “You could say that. You?”

This was a conversation that he had had with you countless times, a preamble of niceties to the wonderfully sinful intensity that would ensue as the hours passed. But Azriel found himself enjoying the mundane, near domestic conversations with you more and more lately, almost as much as he enjoyed everything that would come after.

He hummed an affirmative to your question before a comfortable silence filled the space between you. After a few moments, you rose from your seat, spine cracking while you stretched away the tension coiled in your limbs. Azriel greedily allowed himself to drink you in, hazel eyes skating the plain white t-shirt you wore, now wrinkled by the way you had no doubt been hunched over your desk all day. He tracked the way the hem of your shirt lifted above the waistband of your knit pants as you stretched, granting him a peek at the smooth skin he had plans to run his hands all over later.

“Will you help me put these away?” you inquired with a yawn, gesturing to the books scattered around your workspace. The tension bled from your shoulders as a breeze ruffled your hair, relaxing your taught muscles. Gone was the tense, all-business Warmaster of Day, replaced by the somewhat petulant, but easygoing Y/N.

He stood from his seat and stacked a pile of books under his arm as he followed you to your bookshelves. Azriel knew where every title went, slotting them back into place with the ease of someone who had memorized every inch of your study.

It was your turn to ogle at him, watching lecherously as the muscles in his arm rippled while he shelved a book back into its rightful place high on your bookcase. He had discarded the jacket of his leathers somewhere on the back of a chair, giving you a full view of the way his tight black undershirt left nothing to the imagination. His physique seemed to be sculpted by the gods themselves, wide shoulders tapering down to strong hips. His wings were relaxed, though he was always mindful of your things, careful to keep his wings in check so he could avoid knocking anything over in your decidedly not-Illyrian sized space.

“Are you going to make me put them all back myself? Or are you done staring?” The leather strap securing one of his siphons to his bicep stretched as he shelved another book; you briefly wondered how that thing didn’t snap right off every time he flexed. Which he was clearly doing on purpose now as he teased you.

You scoffed, “I wasn’t staring.” A lie. “I was making sure you were putting everything back where it should be.” Another lie. You knew better than anyone that Azriel had personally spent extra time committing your bookshelves to memory, always sneakily stealing one to read while you worked.

He mumbled something under his breath – “Whatever you say” – as he huffed a laugh and continued his task. You both worked in a comfortable silence that only existed between two people who knew each other the way you and Azriel knew each other. It was nice, you’d admit, just being able to exist in the same space.

Once upon a time, this would have never happened between you; your interactions had once only consisted of explicit rendezvous that would have anyone blushing to remember. But as your…relationship with the shadowsinger progressed, more time was spent enjoying each others’ company and you fell into a neat, wonderfully blissful routine with him. You didn’t see him often by any means, encounters always spaced by a few weeks or more if one of you was busy, but you couldn’t deny that it was nice having him around, especially now that it seemed like his visits to you were becoming more frequent as of late.

Though a pervasive contentment permeated the silence between you, the air was still fraught with delicious anticipation. No words were exchanged, but every stroke of his fingertips low on your waist, and every not-so-accidental brush of your hand against his spiked the tingling, electric tension in the room. It made your heart beat quicken, and every time you felt Azriel steal a not-so-subtle glance in your direction you swore your heart would stop entirely. Anticipation was a slow, cunning killer.

“I’ve been meaning to read this,” he said, breaking the silence, beautifully scarred fingers tracing the spine before he slotted it out of place. Azriel flipped idly through the pages, eyes quickly scanning its contents.

You leaned over, shoulder kissing his, to peer at the title he unshelved, “Oh? Take it then, it’s yours. I’ve read it too many times.”

Azriel’s brow creased as he considered your proposal, “But then what excuse would I have to come back?” It was hard to miss the teasing lilt in his voice, dripping with suggestion and promise.

You rolled your eyes, by now too used to the innocent flirting that had bled into your friendship.

“As if you ever needed an excuse,” you mumbled coyly. “Consider it a loan then. Once you finish reading it, then you’ll have to come back to return it.”

“Better read fast then, huh?”

You could practically feel the wicked suggestion oozing from his voice, dripping like honey as he pressed his chest to your back to reshelf the last book right in front of you. You leaned back against him, savoring the feeling of his breath on your neck as his lips barely grazed the curve of your jaw.

He felt the vibration in your chest when you hummed, his hand dragging from the bookshelf to hold your waist, fingers playing a coy little game as they fiddled with the hem of your shirt.

“You know that’s not where that goes,” you sighed, attempting to tamp down the urge to give in to him immediately. This dance – this game – was always the best part of your nights with him, pushing and prodding in just the right places until one of you finally caved.

“No?” He asked, fingers splaying wide on your lower belly, pulling you back flush against him. “Where does it go then?”

The deep timber of his voice sent a shiver up your spine, but you were determined to make him wait a little bit longer, even if the feeling of how hard he already was in his pants was growing increasingly more difficult to ignore. As one of your hands laid atop his to intertwine your fingers, your other one stretched up to point at an empty space on a shelf two heads above you, “Right there.”

You had meant to sound more definitive and not nearly as breathless, but Azriel wasn’t even really paying attention, too busy nipping at that spot just below your ear that he knew drove you insane. Right there, indeed.

A small noise of appreciation fell from your lips before you could stop it. Azriel’s free hand skated up your side, tracing the curves and divots of your waist, following the line of your outstretched arm before his fingers encircled your wrist, pinning it to the bookshelf, right underneath the empty slot where his misplaced book was supposed to be.

All your resolve crumbled in that moment, your senses overwhelmed by his scent, his body, by the way he disentangled your fingers so he could track his touch further beneath your shirt. You keened when he toyed with your nipple over the fabric of your bra, pushing your hips harder against his until he groaned. He spun you around to face him then, arm still pinned above your head.

The look in his eyes – pupils blown wide and dark – was pure, unadulterated desire that had your legs squeezing together. He looked ready to devour you, what with the way his plush lips parted in awe, heavy lidded eyes mapping the contours of your face. It always amazed you how quickly you could rile him up like this.

But gods, he loved it and he didn’t care that you were looking at him so smugly. He got drunk off the way you moved, the way you smelled, the way you let your idle hand smooth up his chest so you could cup his jaw. How could he not revel in your attention when it set his entire body aflame?

Your lips were a hair’s breadth from touching, breaths mingling as both of you waited for the other to make the first move.

But when you tilted your chin up chasing his mouth with yours without letting them touch, he was a goner, muffling the sound of his name on your lips with his own. You tasted like coffee and honey, and something so undeniably you that made Azriel groan; so familiar and so, so good. He could spend the entire evening like this, letting your hands roam where they pleased while he kissed you endlessly.

Yet, when you tugged at the fabric of his shirt, he let his greedy mind wander to the fantasies he had conjured on the nights he wasn’t with you, fucking into his hand as he thought of all the ways he’d want to take you next. Though he liked the idea of taking you against your bookshelf with both of your hands pinned above your head, he craved your touch far too much. Maybe next time, he told himself as he released his grip on your wrist. But this time…

His arms hooked smoothly beneath your legs and he lifted you effortlessly off the floor. Instinctively, your legs locked around his waist as he kissed you, all teeth and expert tongue smoothing over the places he knew made you dizzy.

“Azriel.” His name whispered against his own lips was a plea that made him want to drop to his knees. Your voice made his blood rush, made his brain foggy with heady desire, made his fingers tremble.

Azriel knew that everytime you two did this – played this risky game – you toed the line between lovers and friends, pushed the boundary just a little further to satiate your need for each other. A maelstrom of emotions wreaked havoc on his composure; every kiss, every touch had his heart beating with feelings that transcended the lust that often clouded his vision when he was with you.

It terrified him. It exhilarated him.

Azriel was well aware that the feelings that had begun to blossom in his chest were not ones that followed the guidelines of your arrangement, even if he couldn’t quite pinpoint what those feelings were just yet. But he knew this was supposed to be casual, no strings attached, and nothing about the feelings that were roiling around in his heart was casual.

He couldn’t help the way he always felt like he was searching for you, thinking of you, wanting you. You were the north of his compass, the sun to his earth, and he could do nothing to loosen the vice you had on him. He could say that it was because the sex was incredible – it was – but he knew that wasn’t the only reason he sought you – and only you – out time and time again, after all these years.

It hurt his head to think too deeply about what these burgeoning feelings were, especially with the way your teeth were taking his earlobe between them as your arms wound tantalizingly around his neck, whispering obscenities in his ear about how good you wanted to make him feel. He shuddered with wanton hunger, hands grasping desperately at your waist.

He felt his chest tighten with an emotion he thought he had locked up long ago as your fingers played with his hair, a sweet, gentle gesture that was in stark contrast to the way he urged your hips to grind against his.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, whispered against your lips as he kissed you.

Despite his sentiment, Azriel continued to kiss you like his life depended on it, like you would be the last breath he took before plunging deep into open waters. You gratefully matched his fervor before pushing on his chest. He pulled away from you, chest heaving against yours with long shuddering breaths of restraint.

Confusion tumbled around in your mind as you searched his face for any sign of reluctance. When you didn’t find any, you were tempted to pull him back into you, but comfort was paramount and you didn’t push him – never pushed him. Not once in the hundred years you two have been navigating this treacherous dance of being friends(?) with the benefit of pleasure did either of you take more than what was given.

You were panting, “We can stop, if you don’t—“

He cut you off with another press of his lips to yours as if he couldn’t resist any longer, his hand tender against your jaw, “That’s not what I meant.” His voice was soft and steeped in too much affection; it made your heart stutter traitorously in your chest.

You didn’t have time to ask him what he meant, though; he was already blazing a trail of open mouthed kisses down the column of your neck, inquisitive hands palming at every inch of you he could.

Even if you had the wherewithal to ask, he wouldn’t have answered. Azriel wasn’t sure even he understood what he had said, only that there was a feeling in his gut that he was on the precipice of change, that there was something in the air that told him he wouldn’t be able to go back to the way things were. Despite having made this decision over and over and over again in the last hundred years he’s been alive, something about this time felt different. Again, it terrified and exhilarated him.

But he didn’t want to think about it anymore, not when all he wanted to think about was you, pliant under his touch and crooning for more. All reason be damned.

Your fingers wound themselves in his hair, pulling not-so-gently this time, “Azriel.”

Gods, the way you said his name would send him to an early grave, and he’d die happy if it was the last thing he heard. He pulled your shirt off and unclasped your bra in record time, mouthing at your breast as his expert tongue tweaked your nipple while his hand traveled down your body and beneath the waistband of your pants.

He grinned against your skin when he felt how wet you were beneath your tiny little underthings, so slick and ready. Ready for him. Him.

The thought pulled a growl out of him from deep within his chest. Possession roiled in his gut like a monster uncaged. He would’ve taken you right there, against the stack of books lining your shelves, but he knew from experience that it wouldn’t end well. He’d make a mess — of you and your bookshelves — and you’d whine in protest afterwards and lament that you’d have to reorganize everything all over again.

So instead, he steadied you against him and flew from your study’s balcony to your room’s; it was faster than navigating the too long hallways of the palace to get to your bed. Your shriek of his name, a mixture of delight and shock, tickled his ears with the wind that whipped briefly across his face.

When he tossed you somewhat unceremoniously onto your bed, a smirk curled his lips at the miffed expression creasing your brows.

“We have corridors you know,” you fussed, still reaching for him as he climbed over you. He chuckled a bit at your petulant grumbling before his lips attached to the column of your neck. His voice was a low rumble as he nipped at your skin, placating you, “That way was faster.”

The urgency in his actions made you giddy, though you would never admit it. Azriel always wanted for you in ways that reminded you of your young adulthood. Like two desperate young lovers stealing away into the hidden depths of the night to explore each other under the cover of a secret tryst.

Even after nearly a hundred years, the thrill of him never subsided.

The rest of the night was a blur as you lost count of how many times you were gasping his name between orgasms. He took you slow despite the way he had moved with such desperation before. He moved with you like he had nowhere else to be – like there was nowhere else he wanted to be – letting his hands and mouth wander and worship your body as he coaxed wanton moan after moan from your lips. He gave you everything you needed, but still you asked for more, always wanting more, more, more of him as your fingers danced gently around the base of his wings to elicit the sounds of his pleasure that made you tremble.

And Mother be damned if he didn’t feel the same way.

Azriel could never get used to the feel of you around him, beneath him. It was like he forgot who he was, pleasure driving him to the brink of insanity as you came around his fingers, his tongue, his cock. He thrived off the way your bodies moved in perfect, beautiful synchrony. And every time you pulled him in for more, he lost himself in you once again. You were heaven on earth, coaxing praise after praise from his lips in the throes of a passion he was addicted to.

In those moments, nothing else mattered. Not the burgeoning anxiety sprung from an amalgam of unidentifiable feelings. Not the worry that someday this arrangement between you could end. None of it mattered. Nothing but you and him in the space you arduously carved out for yourselves.

In the afterglow, your body molded to him with practiced ease and Azriel pointedly ignored – yet again – the way his heart fluttered beneath his ribs when he felt the perfection of you slotting yourself against his side, head resting comfortably on his chest. One of his hands found its way in your hair, gently massaging your scalp as the other stroked up and down the thigh that you had thrown haphazardly across his hips.

You were breathing hard, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. It was in these fleeting, post-coital moments where you both were entangled in that strange limbo between strangers and lovers. A purgatory that existed for only you and him.

The ever-watchful spy, he took a moment to observe you teetering on the edge of sleep. It was a sight he had long since committed to memory but never tired of: delicate eyelashes fluttering with the struggle to stay awake, cheeks rosy from exertion, lips plush and parted. He knew this relationship between you was such a mess, but Azriel found himself caring less and less about the logistics of it all, especially in moments like these where he had the privilege of bearing witness to your most vulnerable moments.

If this was casual, then so be it.

His hand slid up your leg once more to cup your ass before squeezing hard enough to make you open your eyes. You leveled a glare at him, but it was less threatening than you had hoped it would be, fatigue settling in your bones.

“Do you need anything?” Azriel asked softly into your hair, hand returning to its previous soothing ministrations.

You hummed, eyes slipping shut as you settled in closer to him, feeling his heart steady and strong beneath your ear. You shook your head, “I’m okay.”

You patted his chest in thanks before allowing yourself to yield to your growing tiredness, breath evening out. Azriel watched for another moment as you fell sleep, cheeks dusted with heat and hair sticking to the skin of his neck.

He didn’t kiss your head or whisper sweet good nights into your ears like a real lover would, but he did settle further into your mattress, head turning to bury his nose into the crown of your hair, allowing himself the sweet reprieve of falling asleep wrapped in your warmth.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

It was early, early morning when you woke, Azriel’s arm heavy on your waist as he slumbered on his stomach. His wings were relaxed and fanned out across the bed, blanketing you beneath. His lips were slightly parted and you swore you could hear little snores escaping his throat that he would vehemently deny. You smiled, endeared at the sight.

The wild, terrifying, and ruthless Shadowsinger of the Night Court snored like a baby.

In the moments before day fully broke over the horizon, you allowed yourself to take him in, memorizing the contours of his face, a habit you had formed in the last century of becoming acquainted with the spymaster. You were always amazed at how much more peaceful he looked without the semi-permanent crease between his brows.

Azriel truly was beautiful, a thought you kept close to your heart, but one you knew everyone possessed. When he wasn’t being so insufferably stubborn and cryptic, he looked so content. Creeping sunrays warmed his back as he lay ignorant of your wandering gaze. A foreign ache settled in your chest as you watched him. His words from last night came crashing into you: “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

The night before, he had reassured you time and time again that he wanted you, so you didn’t quite understand what he had meant. You hated to think that he was becoming bored, that this was the last time you’d have him like this. The possibility that you wouldn’t get his late nights and early mornings anymore hurt, and you weren’t quite sure what to do with that knowledge.

You had never really thought about your feelings for Azriel; you had always written off your encounters as part of your flimsy agreement to be casual, despite the increasing affection that had wormed its way into your heart. A seed of uncertainty began to sprout within you. Was this casual? The late night conversations and flippant flirtation confused you, as did the pang of discomfort you felt when you imagined a life without Azriel in it.

You sighed to yourself. It was entirely too early to be decoding something he had said in the heat of the moment. Even when his mind wasn’t clouded with lust and desire, he was difficult to understand, so you ignored the heavy feeling in your chest and instead refocused your attention on the sleeping Illyrian in your bed.

His wing was heavy around you, but it wasn’t an unwelcome presence. Briefly (and somewhat enviously) you admired the strength he no doubt had to have possessed to wield such large extremities so gracefully. But before you could get too carried away in your imaginings of his strength (and other things he could do with it) you tweaked his nose in an effort to wake him. He scrunched it in protest, but allowed his eyes to flutter open, gaze and consciousness adjusting to piece together his surroundings.

When he realized he was in your bed, he relaxed again before pulling you in by the waist, “Morning.”

His voice was thick with sleep as his eyes fought to stay open. There was an undercurrent of domesticity that both of you pointedly decided to ignore as you scooted in closer to him, “Morning. Did you sleep well?”

He hummed an affirmative, letting his eyes slip closed once more. He was silent for so long that you thought he might’ve fallen asleep again, but then he sighed in contentment, “What time is it? Have you been awake for long?”

“It’s early,” you responded, allowing yourself to brush some of his hair away from his forehead, smiling at the way he melted at your touch. “I woke up only a few minutes ago.”

You both stayed like that for a while, nose to nose as you listened to him breathe and fight the exhaustion that you knew plagued his waking hours. Azriel shifted before he sat up, stretching his wings and groaning as his back cracked pleasurably.

“Do you have to go?” You inquired, not willing to ask him outright to stay, but also hoping that he would anyway.

Azriel glanced at the clock on your wall and hummed in contemplation. In all honesty, Rhys was most likely expecting him to come back last night, and he really probably should go. But, he told himself, if that was the case he was already late and staying another few hours wouldn’t make a difference.

“Not for a bit.”

He reveled in the wicked smirk that curved your lips as you shifted to straddle him, “My favorite answer.”

chapter ii (wip!)

taglist: @hauntedstudentobservationus @div94 @sidthedollface2

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celeryb1tch · 8 months ago

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spencer reid x student!reader

18+! this post contains nsfw content

when spencer gets home from work he finds that you haven’t finished your essay, so he tries to ease your mind.

content: lots of pet names, fem!reader, you’re getting an arts degree lol, age gap but not too intense since this is early-ish seasons spencer, slight degradation at the end, reader orgasm, oral and fingering (r! receives), overstim, forced orgasm.

(i’m literally gay but i’ve been so delusional and in love with this fictional man lately i had to write something to get it out of my system!!!)

—

when your boyfriend came home from work, tie loose and satchel abandoned on the kitchen counter, you felt a wave of embarrassment flush you. you were still working on the same essay you had been last night; the one spencer made you promise you’d finish today.

“how is my pretty girl?” he asked, laying back beside you on the couch. when he leaned over to kiss you chastely, your stomach churned and you shut your laptop quickly.

you could feel hot tears start to pool in your eyes, biting back the sob you so desperately needed to get out. spencer took one look at your face and sighed, wrapping an arm around you.

“oh, baby. you didn’t finish it?”

“i tried!” you protested, your eyes squeezed shut to avoid seeing his disappointed face. “please don’t be mad at me.”

spencer’s gentle hand cupped your cheek, running his thumb across it lightly. “look at me, angel. i’m not mad.”

the floodgates opened when you finally dared to look at him, seeing his mouth pressed in a flattened line. tears streaked your face and it only added to the embarrassment. your boyfriend was a capable man, and here you were crying because you couldn’t finish a stupid essay before he got home from his 9-to-5.

he tried to hold you closer, but you struggled against him. you didn’t deserve his comfort or his sympathy. he settled for running his free hand through your hair soothingly. “hey, just talk to me. what went wrong, can i help?”

you shook your head, fighting through a hiccupped sob to answer. “i couldn’t find the last source i need. i was sifting through articles for like four hours, and i just gave up.”

ever the problem solver, spencer smiled down at you softly. “okay, let me take a look. you know i have fairly good research skills, they’re kinda required for my job.”

“you don’t get it!” you huffed, frustration evident in your voice. “you go to work all day and i can’t even find one source. one! i shouldn’t need your help for everything.”

recognition flashed in his eyes, and then he really pulled you in. it was useless to relent, you could feel the determination in his touch. he shushed you softly, one hand wrapped around you firmly while the other drew patterns on your back. when your breaths slowed and your sobs subsided, he pulled back to hold you at arms’ length. “baby, you are one of the smartest people i know.”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, and spencer grabbed your chin to ensure you couldn’t look away.

“i wouldn’t lie. no one i know is as sensitive as you are, as empathetic and in touch with their emotions. that’s what makes you so good at this program. i certainly couldn’t complete your degree.”

and you knew how bad at concealing the truth your boyfriend was, so reluctantly you believed him. “thank you,” you just about whispered.

his eyes cast pure adoration on you, even as your tear-stained cheeks were red and raw. “your incredible brain is one of the reasons i fell in love with you. so if you can’t find anything, there must be a reason. could you please just let me take a look?”

spencer had indisputably won you over, one arm still holding you to his side as he opened your laptop on his own lap. you relaxed into him, head pressed to his chest where you could hear his heart beating perfectly. with a hum, he scanned your tabs in a matter of seconds, scrolling to the bottom of the search result page at a speed the computer could barely keep up with. “i know what it is, but you’re not going to be happy.”

lifting your head, you squinted at your boyfriend inquisitively.

“you were typing the date wrong, honey. the last two numbers were flipped.”

you felt that feeling of incapability rush through you again, your eyes stinging in preparation to cry. but spencer was right there to prevent you from shutting down, hand on your head passing slow strokes in comfort.

his lips hitched into a small sympathetic smile when he looked down at you. “my poor girl, worked yourself up so hard your brain stopped working. too much essay writing this week.”

and of course, he was right. you’d been running yourself ragged recently trying to keep up with deadlines, not to mention the extra work you’d taken on early to prevent overwhelm for finals. when you’d told him your plan, spencer had advised against it. he didn’t want you sacrificing your sanity now for a bit more time with your boyfriend in a few months. but never not supportive, he relented and instead helped you draft a schedule to complete everything.

you couldn’t feel too stupid with spencer’s sweet voice telling you that you weren’t. “it’s not even due until next week, remember? i just wanted you to finish it tonight so i could take you out to dinner,” he confided sheepishly. “you’ve been working so hard, i wanted to reward you.”

despite knowing it was physically impossible (as spencer reminded you often), you could feel your heart swell from the overwhelming love you felt for your boyfriend. you pecked kisses all over his face incessantly until he swatted you away, blushing crimson from the unexpected affection. “okay, where are we going?”

spencer hummed mischievously in faux thought, tucking your wild hairs back from your face. “you didn’t finish your essay, so i actually think it’s only fair to punish you. at least before i take you out anyway.”

a heat bloomed in you, both in your cheeks and between your legs. it was rare that your boyfriend was anything but tooth-achingly sweet with you, saving his more dominant side for certain circumstances. apparently this was one of them. “oh, really? how are you gonna punish me, sir?”

he pulled you into his lap, mouth finding your neck immediately. “if you’re going to be stupid, i might as well treat you like you are. i know how much you like it when i call you a dumb slut, despite the fact that we’re both aware of how intelligent you are.”

your core ached with need, fluttering at his words. “that’s kinda fucked up, huh? i shouldn’t want that.”

“actually, it’s fairly common, especially for women with a high amount of stress in their everyday lives. most people enjoy some form of degradation and or praise when having sex.”

“spencer,” you groaned. his beautiful brain always had to get in the way of the fun, not that you seriously minded.

he smiled, pressing his lips to yours again. “sorry, baby. yes, it makes you a very naughty girl.”

despite the pure love in his eyes and his touch, you felt a pang of arousal when he degraded you. it felt good to be demeaned by someone who thought so highly of you. so you let him pin you against the couch, clothes long forgotten, and relished in his nasty words as he sunk to his knees before you.

your laptop was somewhere on the ground, still open to that unfinished document. but it was the last thing on your mind when you felt spencer’s mouth trailing down your front. his fingers hooked your panties, pulling them down with a string of arousal attached. “fuck,” he grumbled. “you are a little slut, aren’t you?”

you struggled to respond as his fingers passed through your folds, thumb toying with your clit lightly. “mhm, yours.”

“that’s right, baby.” all of the showy dominance dropped for a second when he smiled up at you, that familiar twinkle of passion in his eyes. and then he ate you out.

all you could do was grip the bedsheets, small whines leaving you each time he ran his tongue roughly up your clit. he’d take a moment to kiss your inner thighs, slipping two fingers inside to hit that sweet spot when he wasn’t lavishing it with his mouth. it wasn’t long before you were on the edge, feeling the knot snap in your stomach. with a start, you gasped through your orgasm, spencer’s hand finding yours to soothingly stroke his thumb across your knuckles. but as your breaths slowed, he didn’t.

“spence, i’m done,” you panted, hand gripping his hair.

“no you’re not.”

with a roll of your eyes, you tried to pull your hips away to no avail. his fingers were still pumping into you at a relentless pace. his head raised to meet your eyes, slick across his lips. he looked wild like this, disheveled, so different from your normal boyfriend, who was almost too sweet for his own good. “i told you this was a punishment.”

even knelt between your legs, this spencer was in complete control. his gaze was locked on yours, watching every tiny movement when he skimmed his thumb across your clit again. your core reignited when you realized what was going on. he was going to force you to cum again.

“please, too much” you whined, free hand pushing the top of his head away in a superficial effort. you couldn’t think properly with the intensity of the overstimulation.

spencer licked his lips, voice gravelly in a tone it only reached when he was purely aroused. “you can take it, honey. i know you can be a good girl for me. don’t you wanna be good?”

you nodded silently. there wasn’t much you could do but let him fuck you stupid.

“that’s it. gonna make you dumb, yeah? i’m gonna fuck you until you can’t think.” his head dipped down, resuming his wet, sloppy kisses to your clit. and with the combined effects of his words and actions, you were cumming again quickly.

you were unabashedly moaning now, jaw slacked open and eyes screwed shut. you were far past the point of caring what you looked like to the man furiously devouring you between your legs. your hand gripped his tighter, feeling his fingers pound a bit harder in acknowledgment.

your second orgasm felt like being catapulted into the atmosphere. it was sharper, practically knocking the air from your lungs. it took you a few moments to stop panting.

spencer grinned up at you, a sight for sore eyes in your clouded vision. “thinking about anything, baby?” he asked. and when he only received a small shake of your head, “good.”

his mouth returned to your core, soft kitten licks causing you to twitch and wince away. he squeezed your hand firmly, giving you a stern look. “only cleaning you up this time, promise.”

once you weren’t dripping arousal down your thighs, spencer pulled you onto him when he sat back down on the couch. all you could focus on were his warm, strong hands tracing sequences on your skin. he loved to imagine binary code, mapping it out on you because he knew the motion calmed you down.

you were barely conscious, brain buzzing like tv static in the post-sex bliss. you heard spencer chuckle to himself before saying, “so i think we’re getting takeout.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #molly’s!#spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid smut

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librababe99 · 3 months ago

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Ashes of Desire

CW: emotional manipulation, violence, danger, angst...

Summary: On a humid New Orleans night, you’re drawn to the dangerously magnetic Remy LeBeau, despite every warning. His red eyes and easy charm pull you into a whirlwind of stolen kisses and whispered secrets. Word Count: 1548

AN: Last post for the night y'all and I swear I'll leave your timelines alone😂❤️ I feel like I've been writing a lot of angst? But I honestly love it LOL---I hope you enjoy and as always comments/feedback are appreciated! - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

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The humid New Orleans night clung to you like a second skin, the air heavy with the scent of rain and the whispers of secrets lurking in every shadowed corner. Bourbon Street was alive, pulsing with the vibrant energy of the city—jazz music spilling from open doors, laughter mingling with the clinking of glasses, the occasional shout cutting through the noise. But none of it reached your ears. Your focus was singular, unwavering, fixed on the figure leaning casually against the brick wall just beyond the reach of the neon lights.

Remy LeBeau.

He was every bit the enigma you’d always known him to be—cool, composed, with an air of danger that clung to him like the night itself. His red eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, a predatory gleam that set your nerves on edge and made your pulse quicken. You knew better. You knew the stories, the warnings whispered by those who had crossed paths with the infamous Gambit and lived to tell the tale. He was a thief, a rogue, a man with more blood on his hands than you cared to think about. But there was something about him, something dark and magnetic that drew you in like a moth to a flame, even when you knew you were going to get burned.

He pushed off the wall with a lazy grace, his smirk deepening as he sauntered toward you, each step deliberate, measured. The slick cobblestones beneath his boots barely made a sound. The narrow alleyway you had cornered him in felt suddenly too small, too intimate, the walls pressing in on you as the space between you dwindled.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he drawled, his voice thick with that unmistakable Cajun accent that sent shivers down your spine. His gaze flickered over you, a mix of amusement and something darker, something that made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with fear. His eyes were unreadable, a storm behind a veil of indifference, and yet, you couldn’t look away.

“I could say the same about you,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, trying to ignore the way his presence seemed to fill the alleyway, crowding out everything else. You had come here tonight with a purpose, but now that you were face-to-face with him, you weren’t sure what that purpose was anymore.

He chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that curled around your insides like smoke. “Always de stubborn one, ain’t ya, chère?” he said, closing the distance between you in two strides. He reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face, and the contact sent a shock through your system. Your skin tingled where he touched you, a stark contrast to the cold fear creeping up your spine.

“Chère, you keep playin’ dis game, but you don’t even know the rules,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, the words a warning and a promise all at once.

Your breath hitched as his hand lingered on your cheek, the warmth of his skin making you acutely aware of just how close he was. You wanted to pull away, to put some distance between you, but your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch instead, craving the warmth and the danger that came with it.

“I know enough,” you whispered, though the words felt hollow, even to your own ears. What were you doing? What did you hope to achieve? This man was danger personified, a storm wrapped in charm and lies, and yet, here you were, drawn to him like an addict to their poison.

His eyes darkened, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place passing through them—something that made your chest tighten painfully. “Maybe,” he said softly, almost as if he were talking to himself. “But sometimes, knowin’ ain’t enough to save you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and ominous, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of regret in his eyes, a vulnerability so fleeting you almost doubted you’d seen it at all. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the familiar mask of nonchalance that he wore like armor.

“You think I’m gonna save you, chère?” he teased, leaning in closer, his breath hot against your ear, sending another shiver down your spine. “’Cause I ain’t no hero. Never been, never will be.”

“I don’t need saving,” you snapped, finding your voice again, even as your heart hammered in your chest. “Especially not from you.”

The smirk that curled his lips was sharp, dangerous, and it made something inside you twist painfully. “Dat’s where you’re wrong, ma belle. I’m the one you should be runnin’ from.”

But you couldn’t run. Not now. Not after you’d come this far, not after everything that had led you to this moment. And that’s how you found yourself tangled up in his arms, lips crashing together in a kiss that was more desperation than passion, a collision of need and fear and something else you couldn’t name. It was a mistake. You knew that. But in that moment, with the world spinning around you and the taste of him on your tongue, it was the only thing that felt real.

He kissed you like he was drowning, like you were the last breath of air he’d ever have, and you let him. You let him because for once, you wanted to be the one who made him feel something, anything. Even if it was just for a moment.

But it wasn’t just a moment.

It was a series of stolen kisses, whispered words in the dark, and nights spent in each other’s arms, pretending that this—whatever it was—could be something more. You told yourself it was just a fling, just a game, but deep down, you knew it was a lie.

You were falling for him. And it was going to destroy you.

Because Remy LeBeau was not a man who could be saved. He was a storm, wild and unpredictable, and you were caught in the eye of it, helpless to do anything but watch as everything you knew was torn apart.

He warned you. He told you to stay away. But you didn’t listen. You thought you could handle it, handle him, but now you were drowning in the mess you’d made, and there was no one to pull you out.

And Remy? He was still there, still holding you close, but you could see the cracks in his façade, the way he looked at you like he was waiting for the inevitable. He wasn’t going to save you. He was going to drag you down with him, and there was nothing either of you could do to stop it.

“Remy,” you whispered one night, your voice barely audible over the sound of rain pattering against the window. The city outside was alive, but in that quiet room, it felt like you were the only two people in the world. “What are we doing?”

He didn’t answer right away, just held you tighter, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, as if he could memorize the feel of you beneath his touch. “Survivin’, chère,” he said finally, his voice rough and tired. “We’re just survivin’.”

But you both knew it was more than that. You weren’t surviving—you were burning. And sooner or later, there would be nothing left but ashes.

But even as that truth hung heavy between you, you couldn’t let go. You couldn’t walk away. Because as much as it hurt, as much as it tore you apart, you needed him. And that was the most dangerous thing of all.

So you stayed. You stayed even though you knew it was killing you, even though you knew that every kiss, every touch, was another step closer to the edge.

The nights grew longer, the days more unbearable as the weight of your choices pressed down on you. Remy was a constant presence, always there in the shadows of your mind, a reminder of everything you were trying to escape and everything you couldn’t bear to lose. The more time you spent with him, the more you felt the edges of your sanity fray, the more you felt yourself slipping further into the abyss.

You began to notice the small things, the things that only someone who was hopelessly entangled would see—the way his laughter never quite reached his eyes, the way his hands would tremble just slightly when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he would watch you when he thought you were asleep, his expression soft and almost…broken.

But those moments of vulnerability were fleeting, gone as soon as they appeared, replaced by the mask you had come to know so well. He was still Remy LeBeau, the charming, dangerous thief who could steal your breath with a smile and break your heart with a whisper. He was still the storm you had foolishly decided to weather, even as it tore your world apart.

And when the end came—because it would come, you knew that now—it would be on his terms, not yours.

Because Remy LeBeau was a thief, and he had stolen more than just your heart.

He had stolen your soul.

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Taglist: @venssu

#gambit #remy lebeau #xmen fanfiction #xmen fandom #remy lebeau x reader #gambit x reader #gender neutral reader #angst #x men 97

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liveontelevision · 7 months ago

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Suffer Pt. 3

Suffer Part 3 is here! I'm planning on having at least two more parts, I was not expecting this to become a whole thing but :') I gotta see it through now lol

When I say I love slowburn fics, I mean it dammit.

Disclaimer: This is my personal interpretation of the characters from Hazbin Hotel. I respect the canon storyline and characters, but this fic will stray from it a decent amount.

(This series is complete! All parts are listed on my master list and are linked below!)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

♡ ♡ ♡

Holding a small, sleeping Charlie close to your chest, you swayed her back and forth. Your eyes fluttered shut, as you danced around the familiar nursery, humming the same tune you've used to calm her down for years. She was asleep. Safe and oblivious to any of the chaos around her. You envied her. With one final spin, you let your eyes open. Your arms were empty. She was gone. The comfortable weight of her tiny figure instantly went away. You panicked, the room you were in was shifted into something unfamiliar and uneasy. A source of light finally drew your eyes. A distant doorframe provides light, casting the silhouette of a tall, curvy woman. Her eyes were glowing.

“L-Lillith?” There were sounds of a baby crying out and the intimidating figure became far away, ceasing any light and drowning you in a darkness that you've felt before. Long ago.

A heavy knocking at your door forced you awake. As you sat up you went to wipe the sleep from your eyes, only now noticing the tears streaming from your face. Just a dream… The knock was louder and quicker this time, forcing a response out of you. “Gimme a minute! Fuck -” You roll out of your bed, going to turn off the radio on your nightstand. Having the radio on throughout the night was something Alastor suggested, obviously, after you confided in him about having a series of nightmares. His show is broadcast while you sleep, and when it isn’t, the radio static actually acts as a soothing white noise. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it kept you from going insane in the least.

You finally approached the door, your body still wrapped in your large blanket that trailed across the floor. A cheerful, as always, Charlie stood at the door. She was quick to say good morning, but went straight to the point without letting you respond. She clearly practiced this.

“So! I know my dad's visit a few weeks ago was a liiittle… Tense? But - uh, I was wondering if you two talked yet..? By chance?” She spoke like she would be scolded for saying the wrong thing. You shook your head, still slowly blinking awake.

“Well - okay! I was just asking because he.. keeps.. asking about you…” she held her phone out to you, letting you scroll through some of the messages he’s been sending her. You chuckle at first, he can't text for shit. But she was right. Ever since you blew him off that day, he's been asking Charlie how you've been and what you've been up to.

“I mean, I love my dad and it's awesome he's finally talking to me again, but - I don't know, if it's not too much to ask, could you maybe just.. talk to him?” Charlie rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, and her words broke your heart a little. It's cruel of him to try and reach out to you that way, put Charlie through that distress, but maybe you could've handled your last encounter with more care.

How could you say no to her?

“Yeah, i’ll talk to him, Charlie. Don't worry.” A yawn interrupted your sentence, but you still sent her a reassuring smile as she finally relaxed her shoulders.

“That’s great! I’ll just give him your number!” She planned outloud, turning away to head down the hall.

“Charlie- “ You called out, “He loves you, you know that, right? Don’t forget that.” Charlie’s smile drooped for a second, then quickly picked back up. She nodded as she left your view.

With a yawn, your body still not registering that you were awake or what you had agreed to, you went to shut your door. It didn't click like it usually does, so you turned to see the blockage - Alastor. He'd stuck his foot in the door to prevent it from closing entirely.

“Good morning, my dear!” his voice was booming, as he threw his arms out in a dramatic flare, your door swinging open.

Nope, you were too tired for this.

“Fuck, Al, can't this wait ‘til I'm at least dressed?” You tossed your blanket aside, rummaging through your drawers to cover the little silky tank top and pajama shorts you had borrowed from Angel during your first nights at the hotel. Maybe it was your sleep depravity, or just the fact that Alastor has made it a habit to be extra kind to you since you arrived, but you didn't mind him seeing you in sleepwear. He had no ill intent, as far as you knew.

“Unfortunately, it cannot! I heard you're going on a little outing with the king! How exciting~” He hummed, sitting at the edge of your bed as you cover yourself with your sweater. You plop down next to him, still wiping your eyes. He reached out, swiping his thumb across the apple of your cheek. Looking down at his hand, swiping your tears across his fingers, he met your suddenly embarrassed gaze.

“Another rough night, dear?” You weren't sure how he knew that's what that was from, but you nodded anyway.

“Just another nightmare, it's fine. They're always about Charlie and - the mistakes I made when I was taking care of her.. I guess it still kind of bugs me.” He let out a pitied hum, as he stood to turn your radio back on. He tuned it to some old timey jazz music before resting his hands behind his back. You didn't know it could play music..

“Well, it seems that meeting with that royal menace may not be the wisest choice. Wouldn't you agree?” You looked down before letting a sigh slip from your tired lips.

“It's fine, I can handle myself. Besides, he keeps bugging Charlie and I - I feel like I owe her..”

you shake your head, standing to your feet and beckoning Alastor out of your room.

“It's fine! It's just a quick visit, I won't be gone long.” He took your hand give it a quick kiss, a reassuring smile on his face.

“Well, if he does anything to hurt you, love -” love? “- I'll be right there to help.” He emphasized the end of his sentence with a quick tap on your nose before leaving your room. The music faded back into static as soon as he left.

You heard stories about their fight, plus you could hear their aggressive duet from your room that day, but you believed him either way. You had no doubt he could swoop in and save the day if you needed it. You wondered why people seemed so wary around him. He was a perfect gentleman to you, even with all the warnings you've gotten from Husk and Vaggie.

He had you wrapped around his finger.

You didn't think you would stress about what to wear. You hadn't even made plans yet, but all of sudden, you worried about what he would think of your clothes if he saw you. Charlie sent you his number, so it was on you to reach out. You ignored it for now. You’d ignore it forever if it would keep these feelings from resurfacing. Finally deciding on an outfit, just a black turtleneck that left your arms bare and a skirt that hugged your curves in a lovely way. Even if it probably wasn't the easiest skirt to bend over in, you decided it would do.

A lot of your clothes were hand me downs or were lent to you by either Angel, Vaggie or Charlie. None of it was truly your size, but you had no problem adding in some extra panels or cutting things to your liking. The sweater you grabbed previously was actually gifted to you by Alastor. You had no idea why he would give it to you, a simply red cardigan with a soft knit, but it quickly became your favorite accessory. Pulling up the collar, you buried your nose into the knitting, taking a soft breath in. It always smelled of whiskey and honey, no matter how often you washed it.

You went through your day like normal, followed along with some exercises Charlie was running and taking a quick trip to Cannibal Town with Alastor, something you did every now and then. It started off with him accompanying you to the bakery, where you would occasionally lend a hand, then he would split off to spend the afternoon with Rosie. As time went on, he would ask you to join him.. It was intimidating at first, but Rosie was nothing but a sweetheart, you had no problem fitting in with the two.

when you returned to the hotel, you finally mustered the courage to call Lucifer. With a quick pep-talk to yourself, you held your breath before bringing the phone to your ear. He picked up immediately.

“Hell- Erm.. uhh.. Shit, how do I -” Did he realize he answered the call?

“Helloo? Lucifer here - speaking! Who-who’s this..?” He knew who it was. You assumed this was just him trying to be casual. He wasn't very good at it.

“Lucifer - It’s me.. can we talk?” You were gripping the end of your sleeve nervously with your free hand.

“Yes! Yes, of course! When are you free? We can.. figure something out, right?” You could hear him tripping over himself, kicking things around, and something that sounded like a squeaky-toy being stepped on? His excitement made you giggle. Even with pulling your phone away to try and prevent your laughter coming through, he was losing his mind on the other end of the call. It felt like a nostalgic punch to the gut. He didn't realize how much he missed your laughter until now.

“I guess i’m free whenever.. Charlie doesn't like doing exercises on the weekend, so -” A breeze hit your face, blowing all your hair past your shoulders. Looking to the source, a golden edged portal had opened right in the middle of the hallway. A fidgeting Lucifer was standing with his hands behind his back, a nervous but excited looking grin across his face. You looked down to your phone, seeing the call was still going, then spotted his phone sitting on a table behind him. You let out the smallest huff, before hanging up and tucking your phone away.

“Missed me?” He said suavly, wiggling his eyebrows at you. God, you did. You couldn't admit that though. Your anger, guilt and nerves overshadowed any joy that he may have brought under different circumstances.

“Yeah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” You rolled your eyes, beginning to step towards the portal. He reached his hand out to you, and he noticed you hesitating. “it’s uh- it’s a little bit of a drop if you step through the - um.. just.. wanted to -” you took his hand that he almost retracted, and carefully stepped over the border of the portal. You tried to keep your mind from noticing how your hand perfectly fit in his.

Static filled your core as you left the hotel, but before you could turn and see if Alastor was nearby, the portal had shut and the static ceased.

If he does anything to hurt you, I'll be right there.

Alastor's words rung through your head one last time. You finally met Lucifer eyes after literal decades.

“Um.. Tea?” Lucifer was fiddling with his ring again. Years ago, it was something you noticed he did whenever he was nervous. You nodded and watched as he conjured up everything needed to brew hot tea.

“What, you don't use any of the servants for that? Not even some angelic magic?” Small talk felt like it could make this moment less awkward. As he poured the already heated water into two teacups, he simply shook his head.

“Angelic power is great and all, but nothin’ beats fresh tea.” His smile was so sweet. You nervously balled up the sleeve of your sweater into your hand and brought it to your nose, breathing in the same sent that always seemed to calm you.

“And.. I- ahem.. I ended up finding other places for most of the staff after..” he said it quietly, unable to call attention to his missing spouse. Definitely a touchy subject for both of you. You finally looked around, realizing you recognized the tea room. It was small, but was walled in entirely with windows. It had a great view of the little garden that used to be brimming with difigured, yet beautiful, greenery. You took another look around the room, the nostalgia wearing off, taking in the dust and trash that was collected in the corners. The garden had died off as well. It wasn't completely unslightly, but the mess didn't make sense for a royal manor.

His words finally hit you.

“Found other places? What does that even mean?” You could feel your blood boil, watching him place the tea bags in each cup. You calmed for a moment, seeing that his hands were shaking.

“I just found places for them to work, is all. Sent the stylists to that Velvette girl in Pentagram City, some of the cooks went down to the Glutton Ring, ya know. Stuff like that. I wanted them to be taken care of.” He passed the cup to you, then pulled out one of the two chairs at the small table sitting in the center of the room.

“I just wanted to take care of them..since, I-I couldn't do that for you..” His voice was low, and when you attempted to look at his face he would sip from his cup or turn away. Don't be worried about him. He doesn’t deserve that. It was all so long ago, it doesn't matter. Remember why you're here.

“Good for them. Now, I'm here because you're bugging Charlie. Stop asking about me idiot, she's gonna think something’s wrong.” You placed your half empty cup down. He choked on his drink at your words, not realizing that you had seen the poorly written texts that he was sending to Charlie.

“And nothing is wrong. Right?” Lucifer scratched the back of his neck nervously, then opened his mouth as if to say something. He didn't. He simply nodded at first.

“Y-Yup, right.. Everything's fine. l'll stop asking about you.” You went to stand, brushing the wrinkles from your skirt off as you did. That's that. You came here to get Lucifer to stop bugging Charlie and that's what you did. There's no other reason for you to -

“Wait, please..!” His hand took a hold of yours, as he almost stumbled out of his chair to keep you from walking off. “I just want to say - “

“ - no you don't have to. It was a long time ago. Everyone makes mistakes, right?” You tried your best to keep your cool, but clearly it wasn't working. He winced at your words, releasing his hold on you.

“I have no excuse. I can't make it all go away, I still feel - “ he clasped his hand to his chest, struggling to figure out what he's trying to say.

“I'm sorry. I don't need you to forgive me, but please know, that I am sorry.” The room went silent, with your back towards him, the only thing you could hear was the beating of your own heart. Lucifer didn't know what to do, until the silence was broken by a pathetic little sniffle.

Dammit, not again. Don't let him get to you. Keep your walls up.

He quickly approaches you, his hands hovering over your shoulder, as if you’d shatter if he touched you.

“Nono, please, I -uhh.. I'll leave Charlie alone! I'll stop talking to you, I'll leave you alone if -”

With a quick turn, finally faced him. Letting out a breath you'd been holding in for far too long, you rush towards him with the intent to meet him with a long overdue embrace. The sudden leap left him staggering backwards, tripping over nothing and bringing both of you to the floor. “Don't you dare! H-How could you.. why would think that's what I want..?” Your words were muffled into his shoulder, since he had placed a hand over your head to protect you from the fall. Not even acknowledging that you were suddenly sitting on the floor between his legs, he finally managed to process your words. It took him a moment to even try and reciprocate the hug. He hadn’t been touched like this for years, it nearly overwhelmed his senses.

“ I want to know what happened that night! I want to know how you feel, or I guess felt, about me.. I dont care if it hurts, please tell me the truth..” all of the questions you've been asking yourself for years suddenly spilled out.

You felt absolutely pathetic, relying on him to tell you everything okay. But fuck, you needed this. Even if you never talk to him again after this, you needed some kind of closure.

“Woah- that's uh.. that's alot to drop on guy.. Uhm…” It wasn't like he didn't want to admit what he was feeling. With the relationship he had with Lillith, he had just become accustomed to not talking about himself much. That being said, with one look Into your teary eyes, he was all yours. He carefully took your hands from around his waist and held them in his own. He gently traced his thumbs along the top of your hands, letting you calm down before he went on.

“I.. I think about you all the time, I always have. I don't know what I would've done differently that night, but I'd do anything to take it back. To fix it..” The sweet smile on his face barely made his words sound better.

“I don't understand, Lucifer.” Your voice was quiet, and cracked a bit when his name passed your lips. You saw him jolt slightly, hearing his own name through your sweet, yet saddened voice.

“Well, I guess..Li-Lillith and I-” You both winced at the mention of her name. “- we weren't what everyone expected of us. And you were one of the only demons to know that. She- ugh.. I don’t know she left without a word, without a note - I have no idea where she went.” You felt like you were getting let in on a secret that he had been keeping for years. And maybe that's exactly what was happening. Your face went pale, your head swaying slightly, Lucifer took a hold of your arms and helped you stand, guided you back to your seat.

“It's not because of me, is it?” You said quietly, as if Lillith was just around the corner, ready to scold the two of you. Again.

“No! No, geez, if it has anything to do with you, then I'm to blame. Don't worry.” He still smiled at you, his face becoming strained after grinning for so long, then placed a hand over yours.

“Don't worry? Yeah! That shouldn't be too hard.. you idiot.” You rolled your eyes, but didn't pull away at his touch.

“I'll get straight to the point then, if you think I'm such a clown -” you couldn't help but grin at his self deprecating humor, and he's so relieved to see your smile.

“With you being in Charlie's life again, I'd like to.. I don't know, clear the air? Try and patch things up..?” You went to deject the idea, but he went on before you could.

“I know it won't be easy, and it's okay if it doesn't work out. But we all used to have so much fun together.. I think right now, it could be good for Charlie, and me, to have someone like you around.. I want you back in my life.” His little spiel seemed scripted up until that last part. Your heart throbbed. You were known to always decline help from people, avoid handouts, but the rush you felt hearing Lucifer say he needs you, you were almost swooning.

“Besides, we've both grown up! Moved on- Right? I have all of Hell to keep an eye on, and you've got your little boyfriend back at the hotel so -” You wasted no time in correcting him. The idea of him thinking you had moved on with another demon made you panic for some reason you would never admit to. Why did he think you had a boyfriend? Who would -

“Al?? Oh no, it's not like that, I swear. He's just been a good friend to me since I went to the hotel, is all.”

“Al, huh?” He grumbled, leaning back in his seat ans crossing his arms over his chest. The warmth he left on your hand was immediately missed.

“Alastor, you know. The.. um.. You met him.” You held the sleeve of your sweater to your nose again, allowing the sweet air into your lungs. Fuck, he couldnt take his eyes off of you. He never wanted to take his eyes off of you, again. You just looked so pure in your little sweater.

But, that sweater.. something seemed off about it to Lucifer. He could feel some strange energy emitting off of it. It didn't come off as dangerous, but it definitely left him feeling uneasy. Like a headache that's just barely there, suffocating his thoughts. He's felt that before. It clouded his actions and judgements during his fight with-

“Hey, uh.. Be careful around that deer guy, will you? He seems pretty intimidating. Not to me, of course, but you know. Just in case.”

“Just in case of what?” You leaned forward, with your elbows on the table, propping your chin up. “Are you jealous?”

“Wha-What?? Of course not, I'm the king of Hell, I obviously trump him in every aspect.” There it was. There was that cocky, little bundle of nerves you used to know all those years ago. Everything finally hit you with the lost time, seeing that side of him.

“Lucifer, I missed so much. I wanted to be there for her, for Charlie.. I know I was just a babysitter, but there was so much more I wanted to do, so many things I wish I could've seen with her. With you, too.” You placed your hand overtop of his, just as he did to you earlier. He obviously wasn't expecting the reciprocation, flinching slightly at your touch.

“I guess I get what you're saying.. about taking that day back? That maybe if I didnt attack you the way I did, that I could be there longer. But… I was in love, Lucifer.” He stifled any giggles at the idea that you considered that kiss an attack, but nothing mattered after what you had said. He immediately flushed in the face at your words.

“In love..?” He barely whispered the words, his eyes sparkling. He felt a stabbing sensation in his chest, a familiar one, but still one that he hadn't felt in years.

“Yeah.. hm, it would've happened sooner or later, I think. I think I would've done it at some later point, if it didnt happen then.. I guess I'm just glad I left before Charlie could remember me. It all worked out, so - I guess what i’m saying is - we can try. Let's try being friends, again.”

What a bittersweet resolution.

“Okay. I'd like that.” He was fighting off any unwanted feelings. Burying any ideas to just profess that he felt the same way, and that he still does. That he wants to pick back up right where you left off. That he barely kept the longing, of feeling your lips against his, at bay. No matter how hard that was, things were looking up. Don’t blow it, Lucifer.

You chatted for a little while longer. You told him about your struggles after you were fired, all your interactions in Cannibal Town, the good and bad, then your eventual arrival at the hotel. The conversation lightened a bit, as you told stories about Charlie, giving him a much needed update on how she was doing when she wasn't stressing about a visit from him. You went on, talking about the other residents that he didnt have a chance to interact with last time. Obviously, that part of the conversation went into heavy detail about Alastor and all his little gifts and kindness.

Before you noticed, Lucifer held the edges of his chair, his hands gripping tightly into the metal at every little sigh or giggle you'd make in reference to something Alastor did. He'd dismiss it as jealousy for now. But that didn't stop him from rerunning that one moment in his mind. The moment where he was holding you. Touching the small of your back, just like how he used to.

The way you stood so close to him, that he could wrap his slender arm completely around your waist, and the confidence in your dismissal of Luficer's general presence. It was commendable, no matter the subject, he loved seeing your more confident side. Your words still hurt. The topic eventually came up.

“Oh god, Lucifer! I'm so sorry, I almost forgot about that.. I didnt mean anything, that was completely rude of me to treat you like that. I felt something come over me, seeing your face again, I just - I don't know, it was probably just some repressed rage? I'm sorry.” He quickly waved his hands, offering you reassurance in your actions, admitting that he felt he deserved it after everything.

“Don't say that, I was out of line. What you did to me doesn't excuse my actions.” You admitted. Was forgiveness possible in this situation? He had pushed the possibility so far down in his mind that a mutual respect seemed like an unachievable goal. And any reciprocated feelings were merely a dream.

This felt like a dream.

You asked how he was. He didn't hear that question often, so he didn't really answer with fun stories or anything exciting. His mind went into autopilot after you left. And after Lillith left, a lot of memories seemed suppressed. You asked about Charlie. He was worried you'd do that.

“Well- She uh.. went through her whole teenage phase, you know, goth makeup, boyfriends, a bunch of stuff she grew out of. She spent more time with.. her m-mother, though.. as she got older. But hey! Here she is now, doing the whole hotel thing, I'm very proud of her.” He nodded, clearly ready to move off the topic. But you weren’t.

“She looked up to you, you know. A lot. Oh man, she would cry for you all the time, constantly try to get into your workshop - as cute as it was, I wasn't ready to chase her down all the time. And i’d say she still looks up to you, Lucifer. You inspired her, I can tell.” You swayed the backwash of your tea in your cup, the pot was emptied long ago. Looking up, you see a trembling smile then watch him exhale a shaky sigh.

“Thank you.” He said softly. You couldn't stop yourself from leaning towards him a bit, after placing your cup down with a small clink.

Stop, Don't do this again.

Things might be different this time, but it can only go wrong in some other way, you were sure of it. Still, he leaned in as well. As you got closer, ready to shut your eyes to the reality and just let your fantasies take over, he reeled back, cover his nose and mouth with his hand. You jumped back, clearly embarrassed. He wouldnt call attention to it, leaving you to wonder what went wrong, but the scent from the sweater. It was disgusting to him.

“O-Okay, good catch up. I should get going, I - umm.. I promised Charlie I'd help her with something, so..” That was a lie. But if you spent another moment in that room with him alone, you'd have no control over what happened next.

“Oh.. right. Here -” He rose from his chair and opened the portal back up, leading to the same hallway you were in before. Turning back to him as he approached you, neither of you really said goodbye. Neither of you wanted to say goodbye. After an awkward exchange of trying to figure out if this should end with a handshake, a wave, a kiss - nope not that one. a kiss would be too much. But a hug?

Lucifer carefully placed his arms around you, encasing you close to his chest. He could feel your heart rate increase. The scent of your cardigan you wore overwhelmed him, but he refused to let go after feeling your arms lay comfortably around the back of his waist.

Good lord, this man hadn't gotten any in centuries. it took all of his strength to not trail his hands underneath that damned sweater and pull it off of you, feeling his way up your torso, sliding just the clawed tips of his fingers under your shirt until you -

“Lucifer?” Your words were mumbled, your face pressed against his chest after he had tightened his grip.

“Hoof- sorry.” He quickly pulled away. You immediately missed the touch, but it was definitely for the best. For both of you.

“Well, Thanks for coming by.. you have my number..? Right! Call me whenever you want, I'm not busy-” Sure. The king of Hell wasn't busy. He just didn't want to admit that he’d drop anything he was doing if it meant hearing your voice. You nodded your head, taking a firm grip on his hand as you stepped carefully out of the portal and back into the hotel.

“I'll see you, Lucifer.” You said sweetly, he visibly melted at your words.

“I hope so.” With a quick wave, the portal cinched shut.

---

Alastor stood in the hallway, right where the portal had closed, greeting you with a stretched smile.

“Darling! How was your little visit? I wasn't expecting him to sweep you off your feet so soon, I hope it went well.” He approached you, tapping his microphone to the ground and leaning into you.

“You never called for me, I’m hoping he didn’t hurt you. Again.” His voice crackled and a high pitch ring made you cover your ears for a moment.

“No, Alastor, it was good! We're gonna try and work things out, see if we can be friends again. I think it went the best it could, if you ask me.” You hummed with a sense of confidence, strolling dwon the hall with Alastor following beside you. You didn't notice his eye twitch and his ears folding back at the mention of his full name. He was losing you.

“Just be careful, dear! We don’t want you to make any mistakes again, do we?” He had no idea what he was talking about. Right? You hadn’t told him anything.

“Well, it’s about time I run some of my errands. Let me know if I can be of service to you.” A signature greeting for you at this point, Alastor reaches for your hand and presses another kiss across your knuckles. He looks up at you the way he usually does, but he let his lips linger for just a moment longer. Shutting his eyes for a moment, he tilted your hand to place his nose against the sleeve of your gifted sweater, inhaling the scent and exhaling with a hum.

“R-right, I will. Thanks.” You pulled away from his grasp, his eyes suddenly shooting open. You pulled away from him. That hasn't happened before. He wasn't nervous, exactly. But he did disappear into his shadow, which darted down the hall in the blink of an eye, leaving you with nothing but innocent curiosity.

♡ ♡ ♡

To be continued! Stay Tuned ;)

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potatoplace · 3 months ago

Text

Control

Azriel x Reader

Part 2

Story Summary: On your 145th birthday, your mate Azriel has a very special day planned for you. His only requirement of you is that you give up control and follow your instincts.

Warnings: mentions of abuse and domestic violence, killing your husband, ddlg, allusions to sex, egregious usage of pet names

Words: ~7.4k (~8.9k total)

Author's Note: okay so it's finally here! I know, I know, it took me a lot longer than I'd planned to get it out, but it's also 3x the length I had thought it would be... so there's that lol. Think of this as my apology for loml + my tears ricochet, some cute sweet fluffy goodness with Az to make up for the heartbreak. Also, I'm not sure how much I like this piece, the concept was really fun it was just a bit difficult starting and getting the words to flow. I just know that I appreciate all of the pet names... I hope you all enjoy, and thank you for reading! Oh and there's a second part, since there's a text block limit on here, that will be up in a few minutes.

p.s. there may be a true second part to this, basically a smutty epilogue, if I feel like writing it later

18+ only pls

💙🤍💙🤍💙

Azriel had always tried and succeeded in making your birthdays special. He knew the way you were raised had ruined them for you, nothing but a count down to the day you would be sold off like cattle to a male, likely crueler than your parents.

And he had been. You had been married to a vile excuse for a fae, Marcus at the age of twenty. He beat you for every misstep you made, and in his view nearly everything you had done while together was one.

The food was never delicious enough, you weren’t beautiful enough for a male like him, you talk to other fae too often.

The final straw came when, five years into your arranged marriage, Marcus beat you half to death for not having given him an heir yet. That night, you vowed to yourself that the next day would be the last your husband drew breath.

You prepared him breakfast, even with the broken arm he had given you. Using the small packet of poisonous herbs you had bought when you were feeling brave a few months ago, you slipped some into the middle of his omelette.

And the rest was history.

You were free to live you life, though you had to put your minor healing powers to work to afford the basic necessities. But, you still had the home Marcus had owned, given that he had no living relatives, and it was enough for you.

You had lived your life for another hundred years, as peacefully as one could in the Court of Nightmares.

The first time you saw Azriel had been at a revel, one held for the High Lord’s birthday. Attendance had been mandatory, and as you rarely attended revels you dressed your very best, a black silk floor-length gown with a slit running all the way up your left leg and ending at the top of your thigh. It had thin straps to hold it on both shoulders, and you had never felt more beautiful. It was one of the few things you had saved up to buy, nearly working yourself ragged to do so, but it was worth it.

The way his eyes met your across the room once he entered was electric, and he had made your way over to you almost in an instant.

Your heels had made you four inches taller, but the moment you stood next to the Shadowsinger you felt as if you weren’t wearing them at all. His wings added extra height to him, and you felt so small in comparison. But he didn’t lean over you, attempting to use his height to intimidate you. Instead, he introduced himself.

“My name is Azriel. What is your name, please?”

“I know who you are, Shadowsinger.”

“If you know who I am, would it not be fair for me to know who you are?” Azriel countered. “I merely wish to know the name of my mate.”

Mate. The word struck through you, the bond snapping with such intensity you stumbled slightly in your heels. Azriel steadied you with a calm hand, and you internally scolded yourself.

One conversation and you’re acting like a fool.

“Y/N," you finally respond.

“Y/N,” Azriel said, testing your name out on his tongue. The sound sent instant butterflies into your stomach. “Would you care to join me somewhere more private?” You gave him a look of disdain, having hoped he would be different from the rest. “No no, nothing like that. I figure that the prying eyes and ears turned to hear our every word are something both of us would like to avoid.”

You thought about it for a moment. Truly, the male could have swept you away in an instant, whisking you away to Mother knows where. If he had ill intent, he most likely would have acted upon it already.

“I suppose another location could be nice,” you reply, holding a hand out for him to take. He took it in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

Your heart fluttered, tugging lightly on the bond accidentally.

He winnowed the two of you away, and reappeared in a sitting room a moment later.

“I know that this is a shock to you, honestly it’s a shock to me as well,” Azriel started. “I never- I have not once believed that I deserve to be blessed with a mate, but I know that if you choose to pursue the bond, I will take care of you for as long as you allow. Even if you choose to reject the bond, if you would like I will provide you with a home of your own, anywhere you would like in the Night Court.”

Choose to reject- “What?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. A male- your mate- was offering to take care of you even if you reject the bond. That was… unheard of here.

“I want to take care of you, even if you have no part in my life. I would enjoy getting to know you if you are open to it, though.”

“I…” You hesitated. A mate was something out of your control. Already, you were acting on instinct instead of carefully planning each action. But… The Mother had judged you as equals, and if he was being truthful… “Make a bargain with me. Promise that you will allow me to leave you permanently and alive if I choose to.”

Azriel blinked at you twice before his face broke into a grin larger than you though possible for such a stoic male. “It’s a bargain, Y/N.”

A burning sensation sparked on your sternum, just below where your dress started. You pulled it back slightly, and saw a delicate moonflower wrapped in shadows. Pretty.

“Tell me about yourself?” Azriel asked lightly.

And you had.

The two of you had gone on a few dates before you even let him inside of your house, and another three months after that you let him stay the night for the first time.

You were slow to trust, even if Azriel had shown no signs of abusive behavior or anything similar. But over time he made his way into your heart, residing around the very middle of it. He was your world now, the one you would do anything for. Even if that made you weak, or soft, and he was the one person you allowed yourself to let your guard down around.

Over a year in, on your birthday, Azriel had spent the entire day with you, a rarity with his job and you occasionally being called away for healing duties. He had cooked you dinner while you watched, flitting around him and wanting to help, but Azriel wouldn’t let you.

The dinner had been wonderful, Azriel was truly gifted in the kitchen. After, Azriel had asked if you would live with him.

You said yes.

The two of you bought a house together in Velaris, a city that made the spark of hope that had ignited in your chest after meeting Azriel turn into a blazing fire. Here, the people were free. They could do whatever they wanted, be whoever they wanted, follow their dreams until the end.

Your dream, your wish that you kept so deeply buried inside of your heart, was to reclaim the softness that had been stolen from you, beaten from your bones.

Azriel had helped with that already, his love and affection melting away the hard exterior you had while in private with him. Five years after meeting, you had accepted the bond on his birthday with his favorite meal, and the frenzy that followed was absolute bliss.

This year was a bit different, Azriel’s sole mission on your birthday was to make your dream for yourself come true, twenty years into your mateship.

You were getting ready for bed, brushing your hair on the eve of your 145th birthday when Azriel called you into your shared bedroom.

“Yes, my love?” You asked as you entered, and then you saw it.

Azriel was holding a baby pink silk nightgown with lace along the hem and a bow on the middle of the collar, far cuter than anything you normally wore. And… you had seen it before. When you went shopping for a set of lingerie to surprise your mate, you had lingered in front of it, testing out the soft feeling of the fabric against your fingers, wishing you were brave enough to purchase something so cute, let alone wear it.

“I… How did you know?”

Redness spread onto Azriel’s cheeks as he confessed, “I might have had a few reports from my shadows about the things you seem to want, but do not buy for yourself. The one that sleeps on the back of your neck all day was particularly vocal about it. I wanted to surprise you, sweetheart, with a wonderful day tomorrow. But that starts tonight, with you wearing this to bed.” His smile was so sweet, your knees went weak. It was always so hard to resist him.

“What is tomorrow?”

“If you allow it, and place full trust in me, I have planned out a day for you to have to make no decisions, just following your instincts.” You wrinkled your nose, the idea of giving up all control was one you had rarely entertained in the dead of night, though it had always been to Azriel… “I know it sounds a bit daunting, but you know that I will never make you do anything that you do not want to, right?”

You nodded your head, that had always been the truth in your relationship. Everything was a mutual agreement, the both of you having issues with trust due to your childhoods.

“And we can drop at any time, and just have a nice day all to ourselves if you don’t enjoy it. All that I ask is that you give it a chance. Will you?”

Having that last piece of knowing it could end at any moment, that small bit of control to put your mind at ease.

“Yes,” you breathed, walking over to where he was standing, nightgown still in his hands.

“Thank you, babydoll. I promise, tomorrow will be wonderful. Now, let me undress you,” he said, setting the nightgown down on the bed and raising the hem of your shirt.

You let him, raising your arms to help. Next came your bra, gently undone with kisses placed on your neck as he did so. Then he unbuttoned your pants, shimmying them down your hips and tossing them away after you lifted your feet.

“Arms up, princess.” You blushed at the nickname, one reserved for tender moments in between the sheets, and did as he said. The nightgown slipped over your head, the fabric running down your body like water. The lace at the edges was soft, no hints of scratchiness to be found.

“You look beautiful, Y/N. So cute and sweet, and all for me,” Azriel whispered into your ear as he pulled you into a hug, your body softening against his after a few moments. A sigh slipped out of your lips, and Azriel kissed the crown of your head before pulling away slowly. “Did you need to do anything else before we go to bed?”

“No, I did everything already Az.”

“Let’s go to sleep then, lovely,” he said, and the two of you slipped beneath the sheets, your back to his chest and his arm wrapped tightly around your chest, one wing cocooning the two of you.

You fell into a peaceful sleep, the scent and feeling of your mate all you could ever think to wish for.

💙🤍💙🤍💙

The next morning you were awoken to soft kisses trailing down your neck, and the sensation of wet hair tickling you.

Az’s arm was still around you, and you wiggled in his hold, pressing your hips back against his.

“Now, now,” Az tutted, slight disapproval in his voice, and you stilled. “None of that right now, my sweet birthday princess. It’s time for your bath.”

“Mm I don’t want to get out of bed yet though, Az,” you whined. The sheets were far too comfortable, and the nightgown you were wearing was heaven against your skin, plus the hard press of your mate against your rear… no, you wanted to stay in bed.

“I promise the bath with be worth it, babydoll. Come on,” he said, getting out of the bed and taking you with him, carrying you into the bathroom and setting you on your feet.

The bath had already been drawn, a thick layer of bubbles covering the surface and a soothing lavender and chamomile scent wafting from it. Candles were set up along the edge, and a cup of coffee made just how you like was sitting on the counter.

You went to remove your new nightgown before Azriel’s hands stopped you.

“Let me do that, sweetheart.” He lifted the gown of your head and put it in the laundry basket. “Go ahead and get in, I’ll bring you your coffee.”

You did as he said, and the water was at the perfect temperature. Azriel handed you your coffee, and you took a large sip before looking at him.

“You aren’t going to join me?”

Azriel smiled and shook his head. “No, princess, this bath is all about you. I took one just before I woke you up. Drink your coffee, sweetness,” he said, tilting the cup toward your mouth again.

You do as he says again, even though your mind is fighting against it. He had asked that you try, so you would try as hard as you could to enjoy it.

And really, with your body warmed inside by coffee and outside by the luxurious bath Az had drawn for you, it wasn’t too hard to like it so far. Especially once Azriel started to wash your body with a soft cloth, taking is time to massage out any knots in your shoulders and arms. You always were tense with your healing work.

But all of that stress melted away with your mate’s gentle hands cleaning your skin.

When he finally pulled you out of the bath, he dried you off with a fluffy towel, pressing soft kisses all over you. You were feeling sleepy all over again, and just wanted to crawl back into bed with your mate.

“Alright, baby, we just need to get you dressed and then I’ll start breakfast.” Azriel went to the closet and pulled out a lavender wrap dress with short sleeves, another item that you had admired while shopping before. It was buttery soft as Azriel pulled it over your head, and it fell to right above your knees. You felt beautiful.

Azriel brought your slippers over to you, helping secure them on your feet.

“You look even better in this than I thought you would, sweetheart, though I don’t know how that’s possible.” You blush at his words, holding your arms out for a hug. He wrapped you in his arms, squeezing you tight against his chest. He’s so warm, and smells so good. His night chilled mist and cedar scent lulled you into a daze, your eyes glazed over when you met his after he pulled away from you slightly.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

“Hi,” you say back, your voice quiet.

“You doing good?” He asked as his hand caressed your face gently. You could only nod, so at peace and in the moment with your mate. A smile breaks across his face, and he tightened his arms around you once more before he disentangled himself from you.

“Come on babydoll, you can watch me make breakfast,” he said, leading you into the kitchen. He picked you up and set you on the island counter across from the stove.

He pulled out two wrapped packages, a carton of blueberries, and a bowl covered with a lid, then grabs three frying pans out of a cupboard.

"What's for breakfast?" You ask, resisting the urge to kick your feet as they hang in the air from your place on the island counter.

"Pancakes, sausages, bacon and some fruit, my love," Azriel replies, placing a kiss on your forehead when he turned to look at you.

"Do you need any help?" You ask out of habit.

While Azriel does take care of you as much as you allow, it has been hard kicking your old habits of always offering to help, any way to make your eventual suffering easier on you.

"No, sweetheart, I just need you to sit there and look adorable. Can you do that for me?" Azriel requests as he unwraps the sausages and puts them in a pan, then does the same with the bacon.

You sigh. Doing nothing? That's difficult. "I can try, Az."

"Good girl." Now that sent a thrill through you, and put a smile on your face. In the past couple of years you had noticed how much praise had begun effecting you, especially from the lips of your mate.

Azriel began making breakfast, pouring some of the batter he had made before waking you up into one of the pans. He places some blueberries onto it, being more careful with them than usual.

Az could feel your eyes on him, and turned to look at you. "Yes, love?"

"You're being careful with the blueberries," you state.

"Yes I am. I'm making smiley faces in the pancakes, sweetness."

You smile widened, the idea of it was so cute. "Smiley faces?"

"Mhm. I figured I would even make your breakfast cute, Y/N. After all, you're so cute you deserve to eat cute things too." His words sent blood to your cheeks, and your legs started kicking gently in the air.

Azriel returns to the stove, dutifully cooking until he hears you make to get off the counter. He whips around and holds your hips in place. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I... I wanted to help."

He kisses your lips, cheeks, then forehead. "You are too sweet, mate. I have everything under control, I promise. Just stay here and eat some blueberries, okay?" He hands the carton to you, and you pout slightly as you toss one in your mouth.

Azriel turns back to the stove, ready to get the food finished so he can pay more attention to you again.

In a few minutes, he's plated everything and brought it to the table, including a bowl of fruit from the fridge, before returning to you. He picked you up, carrying you over to the table as you giggle in his arms. Azriel gently sets you in your chair, then takes the seat next to you, scooting his chair over so that he's right next to you.

You go to pour some syrup on your pancakes- the smiley faces are pretty adorable- before a hand stops you, taking the bottle from your grasp. "Hey-"

"I told you, sweetheart, that you don't have to do anything today. That includes pouring your syrup and cutting your food." Az pours a generous amount on your pancakes, just the way you like them. He cuts a bite for you, and brings the fork to your mouth.

You look between the bite of food and Azriel, raising a brow.

"Open up, babygirl." His gentle tone coaxes you to give it a try, and you let him feed you the bit of pancake.

The blueberries are just the right amount of sweetness, the pancake itself thick and fluffy. Your eyes close for a moment as you chew, and when you open them Azriel has a soft smile on his face.

“Is it good?”

You nod your head. Azriel’s pancakes are one of your favorite foods he makes, always so delicious and fluffy.

“Good. Open wide,” he said as he brought another forkful to your mouth.

The pattern continued, Azriel taking bites off his own plate while you chewed yours. Before long you were full, turning your head away from the last bite of sausage Azriel was offering you.

“You full, babygirl?”

“Mhm, it was a lot of food, Azzie.” The nickname slipped out of your mouth without you even thinking, a sure sign you were relaxed and happy. “This is nice, so far,” you admitted.

Azriel’s face split into a grin, a rarity on his face, though it was becoming more and more common in your presence. “I knew you would like it, Y/N.” He kissed your forehead, then stood up from the table and offered you a hand. You take it and let him pull you into the bedroom. “Now, we are going to go shopping. But, with the weather, you need to wear a little more than you are now, cutie.”

He went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of white woolen tights, and turned back to you. “Sit down on the bed for me.” You do, and he goes to his knees in front of you. He takes off your slippers, then shimmies the tights up your legs until they’re all the way on your hips. “Perfect, sweetheart, you look so adorable in these. Do they feel warm enough to go out into the snow?”

“Yes, I think I will be warm enough. But I’m not sure I have a coat that will be good enough, though…”

Azriel chuckled. “I got one for you specifically for today, but I hope you will wear thicker coats more often. I hate to think of you walking in the cold in just a light jacket when I’m not here, sweetheart.” He pulled you up from the bed, leading you to the entryway closet that he opened, grabbing a puffy white coat that looked like it would go down to your mid-thigh.

You extended your arms without him prompting you, which made him smile again. He slipped the coat onto your arms, buttoning it up methodically. He then grabbed a pair of fluffy white snow boots which you slid your feet into, letting him lace them up for you. He pulled on his own coat, which he let you button up when you gave him a pouty look, then put on his own boots.

“Just a few more things, baby.” He wrapped a light pink knit scarf around your neck, making sure to cover as much skin as he could with it, leaving it loose in the front in case you felt like pulling it over the bottom of your face. Then he slipped matching mittens onto your hands, pressing a kiss to the top of each one beforehand. And the last was a matching hat with a pink puffball on the top. He fit it snuggly onto your head.

“You should wear a hat too, Azzie,” you point out. Especially if it was snowing, you didn’t want your mate to catch a cold. He merely smiled and shook his head at you, grabbing his own black hat and gloves from the closet.

“You worry about me so much, sweetie. I was always going to wear a hat, it’s been snowing since I woke up, after all.” He tapped your nose with his pointer finger, then leaned in for a kiss. It was so gentle and sweet, a perfect kiss if there ever was one. Then again, that was all of their kisses.

The two of you left your home, Azriel locking the door behind you. There was a thick layer of snow on the ground, most likely four of five inches deep.

Azriel grabbed your hand and began leading you down the street that would take the two of you to the Palace of Thread and Jewels.

The snow made the trek take longer than usual, but with your mate’s warm hand encasing yours, you didn’t mind at all. The two of you passed a few shops before you made it to your first destination, a bedding store that the two of you had come to in the past.

He brushed the snow off of your hat and shoulders, the pulled you into the shop.

“Now, sweetheart, I want you to remember to follow your instincts, pick out whatever you feel drawn to, okay?” You nodded your head; After all, the day so far had been amazingly comforting, the caring presence of your mate doing so much to relax you.

He let you wander around the shop, following closely behind you with his shadows swirling around your feet. You paused in front of a shelf of throw blankets, your eyes catching on a blush colored one.

Reaching a hand out, you went to brush your fingers on it before realizing they were still clad in mittens.

“Here, sweetness, let me take that for you,” Azriel said as he removed the mitten from your hand, leaving it free to brush against the blanket.

“It’s so soft,” you breathed. You turned your head over your shoulder to look at Azriel. “Can I get it?” Your voice was shy, still nervous about choosing cute things for yourself.

“Of course, princess. You can get anything you want, today and every day.” He picked the blanket up and held it in his arms. “Keep looking, there’s a lot more you haven’t seen yet.”

You followed his suggestion, walking further into the shop. Your eyes lock onto a sapphire blue pillow, fur all along the top side of it. Your ran your fingers through it- so silky smooth, you just needed to have it. “This too, please,” you whispered to Az, and he licked that up as well. The two of you looked through the rest of the shop, but nothing else caught your interest strongly enough to linger near it. Azriel gently led you with a hand on your back to the counter, placing both items on it.

“Did you find everything you needed?” The clerk asked as he wrote out the total on a receipt, crediting the purchase to your joint account.

“Yes we did, thank you,” Azriel replied, squeezing your hand in his.

“Were you needing a bag at all today?”

“No, thank you, we’ll be fine without one,” Azriel said, grabbing the pillow and blanket off the counter and leading you back to the entrance. Before you stepped outside, he handed the items off to his shadows, letting them carry the goods back to your home. He also pulled your mitten out of his pocket and slipped it back onto your hand.

You left the shop, heading further into the Palace. A few doors down, Azriel opened the door to a clothing store, ushering you inside.

Without prompting, you began to explore the store. This was one you had only looked into from the windows on the street, deeming the clothes, as lovely as they are, too feminine and cutesy for your daily life.

But once inside, you couldn’t help but pick out a decent number of outfits, taking them to into the dressing room to try on, Azriel waiting outside.

“Show me each one that you like, sweetie,” he requested, taking a seat in the chair meant specifically for this purpose.

You do, showing him a halter top and skirt set in a gorgeous blue that matched his siphons near perfectly. “This is perfect, love,” he praises you, pulling you by your hips to him. “It’s so sweet when you match me.”

You giggle softly, placing a kiss on his lips. “I definitely want this one.” You spin your hips, the skirt flaring out attractively from where it had rested at your mid-thigh. “It’s fun to move in,” you say, happiness in your voice.

“Good. Go try on some more, babygirl.”

A few outfits later, and you only found one other piece of clothing you wanted at the moment. It was a shade of pale pink with long, flowing sleeves that came down to the tops of your fingers. The hem reached yours knees, the skirt of the dress separated from the bodice by a matching ribbon at the waistline. The ribbon tied into a bow at the back, something that you would normally never wear out, let alone pick out to try on. But, Azriel had wanted you to try, and it was honestly easier than you had thought it would be to follow your instinctual taste.

You opened the curtain, and Azriel’s jaw dropped open- the only other time that had happened in public was your wedding and mateship ceremony.

“You look…” he paused, and your doubts started creeping in. “You look so, amazingly beautiful sweetheart, like a true angel brought to this earth to bless my life.” He stood up from his chair, scooping you into his arms and twirling you around, causing you to loose a giggle.

“I love this one, it’s so perfect. I feel like a princess,” you say after he sets you down, a wide smile on your face.

“I would have bought it anyways, just for the slightest chance you ever even thought of putting it on again.”

You change back into your clothes, letting Azriel redress you in your outerwear. He brings your two outfits to the front counter, once again handling the interaction for you as you leaned into his side. It was nice, not having to worry about any of the minutiae that went with shopping.

He pulls you out of the shop, a large bag in his hands which he keeps in his hand instead of sending off with his shadows. The two of you make your way over to the Rainbow slowly, enjoying the slow snowfall.

“In here, sweetheart,” Azriel says, guiding you into an art supply shop. “I have something specific in mind for you.”

“Oh? What is it Az?”

“Right here,” he says, extending a hand towards a set of ink pots, neatly packaged together in a wooden box with a glass lid.

“Inks?”

“Yes, I thought you could use something that’s easy, a bit mindless to do when you have free time. I asked Feyre what she thought about an ink set with a few books of drawings to fill in with color, and she thought it was the perfect idea for when you want to do something with your hands, but you don’t want to focus or think. It also comes with quills that are enchanted to return the ink to its pot when you hold it over the correct pot again, that way you won’t have a problem switching between colors… What do you think?”

You thought about it. While it did feel a bit… childish to color in pictures, the idea of having something simple to do when you’re tired but restless would be nice.

“That sounds nice, Az. Do they have books I can pick out here?”

“Yes, they do. They’re over in the back right corner, I’ll meet you over there in a second sweetheart.”

You wandered off into the direction he guided you, finding the selection of coloring books fairly quickly.

One instantly caught your eye, a collection of different creatures found in the Night Court, drawn in a cuter way than they appeared in person. You grabbed that one, and another of plants found in the solar courts.

Azriel came up behind you, placing a kiss on the top of your head, through your hat. You turn around to look at him and held the two books out for him to take, which he did.

“Did you want any others right now?”

“No, I think two will be enough for now. We can always come back again if I want more,” you said, and Azriel’s face softened before he kissed you.

“Alright, I’ll get this paid for and then we have one more stop before we’ll get some tea.”

In a few minutes, the two of you were leaving the shop, another bag in Azriel’s hands. The next shop he led you two was just two doors down from the art supply one, and it was a store you had considered going into every single time you had come to the Rainbow.

The windows were filled with various stuffed animals, plants, and fae. There was a whole half of a window dedicated to Illyrians, all fitted with differently colored siphons, though three you could tell were based off of your mate and his brothers.

That was one of the reasons you had always wanted to enter the shop, having a small miniature Azriel to keep you company while he’s away on long missions and the bond is quieted by the distance.

Azriel drags you inside, taking you over to the display holding the Illyrian plushies.

“Did you want one of me, babygirl?”

Color flushed your cheeks, and you bury your face in his chest before nodding.

“Did you want this small one? Or did you want a bigger one, one that’ll be enough to snuggle while I’m gone?”

“…Both?”

A chuckle vibrates through Azriel’s chest. “Both it is, baby. Go ahead and grab the small one, and look at the other options while I get the larger one ordered, okay?”

You grab the small miniature of your mate, then walk slowly towards the counter in the back of the store that Azriel was standing at. You pick up another plush, this one is your favorite flower, and join him at the counter.

“That will be ready in a week or so, Shadowsinger. We will send a note to your home, informing you when it is ready to be pick up. Ah, are these the other purchases?” The clerk asked, taking the plushies from your arms after you nod in confirmation. “Perfect, I will just grab you a bag, and you two are all set. Have a lovely rest of your day,” she says kindly, giving you a warm smile as she hands the bag to you.

Azriel guides you out of the store with a gentle hand on your lower back, and takes the bag from your hand once you’re back in the winter weather.

“How does tea sound to you, love?” Azriel asked, still leading you with that comforting hand.

“Something warm would be nice.”

He leads you to a tea shop that is decorated in soft pastels and smells heavenly, most likely because of the large case of baked goods that instantly drew your eyes. The two of you approach the counter, your eyes passing over every dessert in the case, lingering on a slice of strawberry cake and an adorable cookie, decorated with pink frosting and in the shape of a fox, it’s features drawn on in black frosting.

Azriel talks with the fae at the counter, but you aren’t listening, only looking between the slice of cake and the cookie, trying to decide between the two.

“Anything catching your eye, love?” Azriel asks softly into your ear, startling you from your thoughts.

“Oh, um…” you try to make a decision between the two, but your brain isn’t working fast enough.

“We can share a few, if you want more than one,” Az suggests gently, and when you point out the two items you want, he knows he found your dilemma.

“We’ll have a slice of strawberry cake and one of those pink fox cookies, please,” Azriel says, ordering for you and pressing a kiss to your head.

“But what about the tea-?”

“I already ordered some, love. Come on, let’s go take a seat.” Azriel pulls you to the side of store with a large fireplace, something you hadn’t even noticed when you walked in. He removes your coat, setting it on the back of a chair, then gently pushes you down onto it.

At this point, you feel like all you can do is follow his lead, so relaxed and in the moment that you don’t even want to make decisions.

Azriel sits in the seat next to yours, scooting as close as he can to you like he did with breakfast. He takes each mitten off of your hands, then removes your hat, smoothing out your hair after he sets it down.

Between the fire roaring in front of you and his wing covering your back, you were so warm and cozy you thought you might even be able to take a nap here.

“How are you doing, baby?” He asks lowly in your ear, wrapping an arm around you as well.

You rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, something you usually would never do in public. But Azriel is so warm, and smells so wonderful. And he’s here, keeping you safe. Even from prying eyes, with his massive wing blocking you from the windows leading to back to the streets of the Rainbow.

“Perfect,” you sigh, melting further into his shoulder.

The fae who took your order comes over with a tray, a teapot, two teacups, and two plates with the desserts you picked out on top of it. You keep your head where it is, too comfortable to move, even if it means showing that to someone you don’t know. She sets all of the items on the table, pouring out tea for the both of you. “Enjoy,” she says with a smile as she walks away.

The two of you sip your tea, a sweet floral blend that you can’t quite name, but you suppose that doesn’t matter too much. Azriel feeds you bites of cake and the cookie slowly, taking his own every now and then.

You nearly fall asleep on him once the desserts are finished, so content in this moment you don’t want to move.

“Alright, princess, let’s get home for a little bit before dinner.” You groan, pushing further into his shoulder. “We can snuggle when we get home, princess.” That gets you to move, the thought of being snuggled together under your new blanket on the couch at home. You turn to look at Azriel, who has a fond look on his face.

“What?”

“You’re so cute, love.” He kisses you, then stands up and grabs your coat off the back of your chair. Your face scrunches as you stand, not wanting to leave the warmth of the fireplace behind either, but you let Azriel redress you in your winter clothes, smiling when he kisses you again. He picks up your shopping bags, the guides you out of the tea room, thanking the fae before closing the door.

The two of you make your way back home slowly, the snow even thicker on the ground now that you had spent another hour indoors.

Near your home, along the Sidra, you spot an untouched patch of snow, and pause in your tracks.

“What is it, love?” Azriel asks you, stopping and looking at you, then glancing to where your eyes were locked on to. “Oh, did you want to make a snow Illyrian, princess?”

You bite your lip, then nod your head. Azriel merely secures your hat further down your head, and checks to make sure that your mittens are still covering your hands. “Go for it. By tomorrow, all of the snow will have been trampled, sweetheart.”

You hesitate for a moment, thinking about what other would think of you being so childish-

No. You were going with your instincts today. Besides, hardly anyone was out no about today, and there was no one on this side of the Sidra to stare at you. And Azriel was here, he would keep you safe. So you got down on the ground, repeatedly moving your arms and legs in their full range of motion.

You had always wanted to do this as a child, but even on the times you were let out of the mountain during the winter, you had been kept on a tight leash.

But now, with your mate? You were free to do whatever you wanted, as he had proved time and again throughout your relationship, and so many times today alone.

You stop once you feel you’ve made enough of an impression on the snow, and Azriel reaches a hand down to pull you up. You take it, then step back into what you believe to be the road and glance back at your creation.

It’s cute, though it looks nothing like Illyrian wings, but you suppose that doesn’t matter much.

“So cute Y/N. But let’s go now, I don’t want my sweet little mate to catch a cold.”

The two of you make your way back to your front door, and Azriel unlocks it before ushering you inside.

He strips you of your outerwear before taking his off, and you beeline for the couch in the living room, where your new blanket and pillow are already waiting for you.

“Before we snuggle, princess, you should change out of your dress,” Azriel suggests, and you groan in protest.

“But I want to snuggle right now,” you say impatiently.

“I know, love, but it will only take a moment to change you into something different sot that your dress doesn’t get too wrinkled before dinner.”

You sigh then follow him into the bedroom. He deposits the shopping bags onto the bed, pulling something out of the bag from the clothing store, one that you didn’t recognize.

It was a sleepwear set, a tank top with a bow resting in the middle of the neckline, a pair of shorts, and a set of knee high socks, all in a pale blue.

“When did you pick that out?”

“While you were trying on all of those clothes. I thought I would pick out some to give you as a surprise princess, after all, it is your birthday.”

You approach the bed and peek into the bag, and see that it is mostly full, pastel sets of underthings on every shade of the rainbow.

“Do you want to wear one of the sets now?”

You pull one out, a bralette and pair of panties in a pastel pink. “This one,” you say, presenting it to him.

He sets the clothes down on the bed, then strips you of the clothes you’re wearing. You let him redress you in the new clothes, loving how soft all of the fabrics are, Azriel having shopped for your comfort as well as a softer look than your usual attire.

“You look so adorable in those, baby,” Azriel says, his voice soft and sweet as he puts the socks on you, then your slippers.

“Thank you, Azzie. I really like these, they’re so cozy,” you say, running your hands along the tank top. “Can we cuddle now?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I do have a couple of reports I need to write first, it shouldn’t take more than an hour, but I’ll have you rest your head in my lap, if you would like.”

Your lip slides into a pout, you wanted to cuddle with him now.

“I know, sweetheart, but I’ll be quick about it, okay? And you can hug one of your new plushies while you wait for me to finish.”

“Fine…” you agree, fishing the plush that resembles Azriel out of the bag and clutch it to your chest while you follow Azriel back into the living room.

He sits down on the couch, patting his lap in invitation. You follow him, curling up on the couch and resting your head on his lap, sighing when he settles the soft, blush pink blanket over your body.

Papers rustle as Azriel’s shadows bring him what he needs to complete his work, but your eyes are already closed. One of Az’s hands begins to card through your hair slowly, and you let out a quiet purr at the sensation.

Within a few minutes, you had drifted off to Azriel’s soft touches, quiet breathing, and the gentle scratch of a quill on paper.

💙🤍💙🤍💙

You were woken by Azriel shifting beneath you, attempting to move to lay down underneath you without waking you. You open your eyes, turning your head to look at him.

“Hello, beautiful. I’m all done with my reports, now it’s time for us to snuggle together,” He says gently, moving your body so he’s now laying on his back, you pulled over him, your head resting on his chest. You kick your legs against the edge of the blanket, managing to get it over Azriel’s feet with a bit of work. You let out a deep breath once you have, sinking down into Azriel’s warm body.

You fall asleep again in a few minutes, now soothed by the sound of his heartbeat steadily thumping in your ear.

💙🤍💙🤍💙

Part 2

(tumblr's stupid 250 text block limit cut it off like a page and a half before it was done)

#control #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x reader fluff #daddy!azriel #soft!azriel #daddy!az #soft!az #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #acotar x reader #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #tato writes

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runariya · 1 month ago

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Will there be a chapter or a few scenes from jk’s pov? I’m really curious about his thoughts regarding all that’s happening right now and also curious about what drew him to oc in the first place considering he always loved taking risks and she was always the opposite in this regard, at least during their relationship.

not rly, tho I do accept drabble requests for my fics...speaking of...

The one where JK and OC start dating 💕

word count: 1.800 (lol)

Jungkook has been thinking about you for a long time now, ever since the day you first met. It’s been over a year of friendship—late-night talks, binge-watching shows, sharing food, and sometimes just sitting in comfortable silence. The kind of moments that shouldn’t feel like anything special but, with you, feel like everything.

It’s funny, though, how even after all this time, you still make him nervous. Not in the awkward way he might’ve been when you first met, but in the kind of nervous that gets under his skin, makes his a little breathless, and his hands fidget whenever you’re close.

He can remember the exact moment he fell for you, though it sounds ridiculous when he plays it back in his head. You were so helpless—just sitting there in your car weeping in the narrow side street—but something about the way you looked at him after he knocked on the window, the way you started laughing right after, it hit him all at once. He felt it deep in his gut, this certainty, like he just knew. That’s what love at first sight was.

And then came everything after, everything that followed. You, with your carefully planned out life, your sensible decisions, the way you always thought things through, never acting on impulse or emotion. You, who double-checked the train schedules and had contingency plans for things that probably weren’t even going to happen.

He should’ve found that frustrating, annoying even, given how opposite you were to him. Jungkook, who lived for the rush of spontaneity, the thrill of last-minute decisions, the way his pulse would pound when he went just a little too fast on his motorbike or tried something new on a whim.

Yet, instead of being frustrated, he found himself drawn to it. You calmed him, steadied him. Being around you was like catching his breath after running for so long, realising he didn’t need to be running at all. It was unexpected, the way you settled something inside him without even trying.

It hit him hardest when you agreed to join him on that hiking trip. You, who preferred to stay home on weekends, your idea of fun involving quiet nights in, agreed to hike up a mountain with him. It wasn’t anything crazy, not by his standards at least, but it was out of your comfort zone. And you went for it. You even laughed at yourself when you stumbled over a root, swore under your breath when the trail got too steep, but you kept going.

Jungkook remembers how his chest had felt thifht that day, but not in the way it usually did when he was out chasing that rush of adrenaline. It was something so much more beautiful—a thrill of a different kind, realising how much he wanted you in his life, in all of it.

And now, after over a whole damn year, here he is, sitting across from you in a restaurant he had chosen for both of you, pretending everything’s normal. You’re talking about your day, about work or something—he isn’t really paying attention because his mind is occupied with what he’s about to do. His heart is pounding so hard, he swears it’s audible, the rush of blood in his ears drowning out the noise of the restaurant and your soft voice.

This is it. He’s going to ask you out. Properly. Not in the casual, hey, want to hang out again tomorrow? way that he’s done for the past year. This time, it’s going to mean something different. This time, he’s going to make it clear that he wants more.

His palms are sweating, his fingers tapping anxiously against each other, and he can’t help but glance at you every few seconds, wondering if you notice. If you can tell that something’s off. But you seem so at ease, so content in your world, sipping your drink and smiling at him like you always do. You have no idea how hard it is for him right now.

He takes a deep breath. Just do it, Jungkook. Stop overthinking it and just ask her. It’s not like he hasn’t faced worse than this, right? But that’s the thing—this is worse.

Because with you, there’s so much more at stake. If you say no, it’s not just his pride on the line. It’s everything. It’s the friendship you’ve built, the trust, the comfort, the late nights and lazy mornings spent in each other’s company. He can’t lose that. But he also can’t go on pretending that this isn’t killing him inside.

He clears his throat, but his voice cracks a little when he speaks. Smooth, Jungkook.

“So, um, I’ve been thinking.” His words are awkward, clumsy even, not at all how he imagined this going in his head. You look up at him, eyebrows raised, and now he’s lost track of what he’s supposed to say next. Great.

“About what?” you ask, voice calm, eyes curious, completely unaware of the internal battle he’s waging right now.

He swallows hard, fingers fidgeting with the napkin on his lap. He can feel the adrenaline kicking in, his body reacting the same way it does when he’s about to take a leap from a cliff into the ocean, except this is so much more terrifying.

“I’ve been thinking about… us,” he stammers, and instantly regrets the vagueness of his words. Why does he always make things harder for himself?

You blink, head tilting slightly as if you’re trying to figure out where he’s going with this. “Us?”

“Yeah. Us.” He breathes out heavily, raking a hand through his hair gelled hair and regretting it right after. “You and me. How we’ve been, y’know, friends for a while now…and how we spend so much time together.”

You nod slowly, still looking at him like you’re waiting for the punchline. And honestly, he’s starting to feel like he’s delivering one too.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, I don’t just want to be your friend anymore,” he blurts out, wincing slightly at how blunt it sounds. He didn’t mean for it to come out like that.

You freeze, your fork hovering mid-air as you stare at him, eyes wide. The shock on your face is evident, and he can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“What… what do you mean?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest. He takes another deep breath, trying to steady himself. There’s no going back now.

“I mean…I lo…like you,” he says, forcing himself to meet your gaze. “I’ve liked you for a while now, but I didn’t want to ruin what we had. You’re important to me, and I didn’t want to mess that up, but…” He pauses, running a hand over his face. “But I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with just being friends when I want more. I want us to be more than that.”

Your silence is killing him. You’re staring at him like you’re trying to process his words, and for a split second, he wonders if he’s just made the biggest mistake of his life.

“Jungkook…” you start, your voice soft, but he cuts you off before you can say anything else.

“I know you’re not the kind of person who takes risks,” he rushes out, “and I know I’m the exact opposite of that. I’ve spent my whole life chasing thrills, doing things on a whim, not thinking about the consequences. But you… you make me want to slow down. You make me want to be someone better. Someone you can rely on. I don’t want to keep living the way I have been. I want something real, something that lasts. And I want that with you.”

You’re still silent, but your eyes have softened, and that gives him hope.

“I know I’m not perfect,” he continues, his voice so much quieter now. “I know I can be reckless and impulsive, and I know that’s probably the exact opposite of what you need. But you balance me out. You make me see things differently, make me realise that not everything has to be about the next big adventure. I want to settle down with you. I want us to build something together. I want kids and a home, and all the things I never thought I’d want until I met you.”

He’s laying it all out there now, heart on his sleeve, and it’s terrifying. He feels exposed, vulnerable, like he’s dangling over the edge of that damn cliff and waiting for you to either pull him back or let him fall.

You take a deep breath, setting your fork down, and Jungkook watches as your expression shifts. For a moment, he fears the worst—that you’re going to tell him you don’t feel the same way, that you’re going to ask if you can just stay friends. But then, you speak.

“I didn’t know. I had no idea you felt that way.”

He bites his lip, nodding. “Yeah, well… I’m not exactly great at showing it.”

You look down at your hands, fingers fidgeting with your cutlery, and Jungkook feels the deadly weight of the silence settle between you. He’s about to say something—anything to fill the space—but then you look up at him again, and there’s something in your eyes that makes his heart stop, no, race and then stop again.

“I don’t take risks,” you admit, your voice soft. “It’s who I am. And I’m scared, Jungkook. I’m scared of what this could mean, of what could happen if things go wrong.”

Jungkook might faint, but he forces himself to stay calm, to let you finish.

“But…” you continue, your voice a little stronger now, “I’ve also never met anyone like you. You challenge me, push me out of my comfort zone in ways I never thought I’d be somehow okay with. And I… I think I like that. I like you.”

Jungkook feels like his heart might explode from the relief, the joy that’s flooding his system. He doesn’t think, doesn’t even hesitate before reaching across the table and grabbing your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours in a way that feels so natural, so right.

“You mean it?” he needs your confirmation.

You nod, your smile growing. “Yeah. I mean it.”

And just like that, all the fear, all the anxiety he’s been holding onto for so long, melts away. Jungkook squeezes your hand, his grin now mirroring your own. He can’t believe it. After all this time, all the wondering, the overthinking, you’re here. And he’s with you. And he finally can start living.

masterlist

taglist: @kookiewithluv , @closer-to-jungkook , @dreamcatcherluvr , @blueofocean, @leah-rose03 , @httpjeonlicious , @futuristicenemychaos , @cryingoverpixelsetc , @variety-is-the-joy-of-life , @kawaiiisstuff , @delusionalsnack , @jaykay-world , @kookie-vuitton , @https-mei, @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs , @avawants2havefun , @kawaiiisstuff, @ancagab16 , @lovingkoalaface , @lachimolalajeon , @jkslvsnella , @asimuss7 , @elinaki92 , @minghaosimp, @whoa-jo , @jaytheatiny , @winterbeartaehyungbestboy

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hxt1b · 9 months ago

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Tripping and falling right onto gojos lap

I got carried away lol oops.

drabble, gojo x afab reader | college au - frat party, smut warning [fingering, exhibitionism, some geto x reader] playboy/fratboy gojo, smoking weed. wc: 767.

masterlist

liquor was not your friend, especially not mixed with weed. your feet stumbled over themselves as you moved through the kitchen. faces blurred as you passed by people looking for your best friend, but she had ditched you or you'd ditched her. you weren't sure in your state.

you rounded into the living room of the frat house, the party mellowed out in here. gojo was sitting next to geto a blunt being passed between the two. You looked away from them, looking around the room willing yourself to stay away from the boys stay away from gojo, it was bad enough you already gave into him before. but with gojo, that wasn't a possibility he was a magnet, and his right-hand man was a fiend for making you uncomfortable, almost as much as gojo was.

you let your gaze drift back to the two men on the couch. geto ushered you over with two fingers, you rolled your eyes but listened. you'd go over for two seconds. that couldn't hurt.

"i'm beginning to think you've been ignoring me at this party." gojo drawled as you drew closer. you shrugged and swayed in your spot.

loud cackling drew your attention to a swarm of first years as they flooded the living room, one of them bumping into your back sending you face forward towards gojo. his hands instantly caught you and pulled you down into his lap, your legs bracketing his.

"what, you didn't wanna see me after last night?" He asked, smoke blowing out his lips spreading over your skin. "i can imagine you're still sore from the shit we did, baby." He muttered lowly, but geto heard, his breathy laugh confirmed.

"you seem to have plenty of girls to fuck with here." you said, your words slurred together. gojo tangled his hand into your hair at the back of your head, taking another drag from his blunt before passing it off to geto.

"but ive been waiting for you." he mumbled moving his face closer to yours so that his lips brushed yours. the smoke from his mouth invading your senses.

gojo shifted so that his erection was pressing against your clothed center. you bit your lip at his action, a low hum leaving your throat.

"don't ignore me again," he concluded before pulling you into a kiss, his lips moving against yours slowly drawing his tongue into your mouth. his hands pushing at your hips to move, you ground down onto his cock. your core rubbing into him, a deep heat stirred inside you.

he snaked a hand between the both of you quickly moving into your pants and underwear, his fingers found your clit, and you gasped at the intrusion. your brain was working slow, muddled and fogged by booze, weed and gojo.

gojo circled your clit, moaning into your mouth as you continued to grind into his cock and fingers.

you pulled your lips from his when he repositioned his hand and pushed two fingers into you, his thumb now tapping at your clit. you tilted your head onto his shoulder, your hands clutching at the couch back.

"open your eyes." geto's voice was soft, and close. you listened and looked at him. he moved in until his nose brushed yours.

"fuck," gojo swore before muttering your name into your hair. his fingers curled at your g-spot causing you to whimper, your breaths shallow as you dug your fingers into the couch, trying to grab the fabric.

"is he making you feel good?" geto asked, his lips now brushing yours. "lemme kiss you."

it wasn't much of a question, and he didn't wait for your answer his lips devoured yours in the next breath, his tongue pushing into your mouth and his hand curling into your hair. his grip was harsh, pulling at the strands roughly.

you forgot where you were, the people in the living room gone as you fucked your hips into gojo's hand and let geto roughly kiss you.

gojo latched onto your neck as you rocked against him harder, his teeth tugging at your heated skin, his hand pulling your top off your shoulder.

"i-fuck i-" you stuttered before you came apart on gojo's fingers.

you'd regret this in the morning when your brain wasn't bogged with substances and men. the public act would embarrass you to the point that you probably wouldn't leave your dorm, but as you rode out your high, with gojo's fingers continuing his ministration, geto's lips kissing yours unrestrained, and gojo's teeth nipping at your skin, you could not be bothered to care.

~hxt1b, feb 14 2024, send me more requests for drabbles dudes...

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oddballwriter · 1 year ago

Text

The New Teacher’s Aid

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Summary: Mike has Abby signed up to be part of the after school program at her school since he can’t pick her up due to him working, there’s nothing too special about it until a staff member catches his eye and he tries to explain it without thinking the obvious.

Warnings: Reader is kept gender neutral and is a teacher’s aid and member of the staff that work in the after school program. This is in second person perspective at first but shifts at times. “Y/n” is used two times in here. Mike has a crush on you lol. I actually can’t think of many things that are actual warnings but if there are any just let me know

Author’s Snip: Surprise! I’m alive! I’ve been relaxing since I took the summer semester off to unwind from my first year of college. Anyways, I’m sure some, if not most, of us have seen the teaser and trailer for the FNAF movie. I’ve been seeing people going bonkers over Mike and William and so have I a little. This thought came to me last night and I wanted to write it so bad but it was 2am then and I had things I needed to do with family so I wrote it down in my notes so that I didn’t forget.

Notes: This is sort of meant to be before Mike takes up the job at the abandoned plazeria. And I just saw that there are some implications that Abby walks/rides a bike home to and from school but I’m just going to ignore that because I can and because then this shot doesn’t really work. So yeah.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

You’ve been working at the school for a month and a half now as a teacher’s aid and an additional member of the staff that work in the after school program. The program wasn’t much if you had to be honest, it was pretty much just babysitting kids who didn’t get picked up once school was over.

You weren’t complaining though, but then again, you worked in the spare classroom with the older kids rather than the younger ones. This group wasn’t too much of a hassle. Usually these kids would talk, do their homework, or some quiet activity and rarely cause any trouble. That’s how you met a little girl named Abby.

Abby was like the other kids who minded their own till their parent or guardian came to pick them up. You noticed that she didn’t interact with any of the other kids and either drew or did her homework quietly at a desk. You decided to check on her. Now you two have formed a really nice bond. You usually help her with her homework or talk about whatever comes to mind which helped pass the time since she was one of the kids that stayed the whole time the program operated.

Speaking of which, it was rolling around that time. You knew that the person who usually gets her is always here when the clock hits five pm but it always makes you a little worried that they won’t come since after five there wasn’t meant to be any students still on campus.

“Okay, last one. What do you think?” you say, you were helping Abby finish up a tricky math sheet. Abby stared at the problem for a moment and worked it out on a blank space next to it before writing down the answer she came up with. “There you go! Great job. Now you’re all done, you don’t need to do any at home.” you smile. Just then you hear a knock at the door to the room. When you turn, you see a man in his mid twenties or early thirties standing in the doorway. You stand up to go talk to him but you hear Abby chirp “Hi, Mike!” to the man. He gives her a nod as a hello back as you grab a clipboard and walk up to him.

“Hello. Can I get a name?” you ask. This was common check out protocol whenever someone came to pick up a child from the program. “Mike Schmidt.” he responds. You nod and check the name that’s correlated with Abby, it checks out. “And the password?”, that was another part of the protocol. He says the correct one and you smile with a nod before letting him sign his name as the last part of the process.

By then Abby had already packed up her things and skipped over to Mike and took a hold of his hand to leave. “Goodbye, Abby!” you wave. She waves back with some more energy to it, “Bye, (y/n)!”. You give a wave back to Mike as well out of courtesy, “Goodbye, Mr. Schmidt.”. He gives you a small wave goodbye too as he leaves with Abby by his side.

With Abby gone home, you were set to pack everything in the classroom so that you could leave. You usually did this earlier but the other staff member went out and hadn’t come back yet, so you needed to keep an eye on Abby. Usually they checked Abby out to Mike, who you were told was her older brother, so she could go home. But since they still weren’t back, you met him for the first time. You were a bit surprised to finally see him. He was actually older than you thought he would be. The age minimum for someone who could pick up a child was sixteen and that Mike met that requirement, but you thought that he would be younger. Turns out he’s around the same age as you.

Abby actually told you a lot about Mike. As already mentioned, he was her older brother. She also told you that he works and that the two of them live together. She’s also told you about how cool he is but that’s a given since most younger siblings think that their older siblings are cool.

You didn’t think too much about Mike after that, but strangely enough, Mike spent a good part of the evening thinking about you.

“Are they a new staff member? I don’t think I’ve seen them before.” Mike asked Abby while she picked at the reheated veggies on her plate. “No, not really. They’ve been here for a while.” Abby responded. “They seem nice.” he mentioned. “They are. They help me with my homework and we talk. They even said they like my drawings!” Abby explained with a smile. “ Well, that’s nice to hear.” Mike said as he got up from his seat at the table. “You finish those off before you try and watch TV, alright?” he said with a little bit of demand as he pointed to the uneaten food on her plate before heading off to get ready for the rest of the night.

Soon after that, Mike had formed a habit. Everyday, just before getting out of his car to go pick up Abby, he would check himself in his rearview mirror. He would subconsciously fix any loose hair, fix up his jacket to look neater, or check for food in his teeth. He didn’t know when it started but he noticed it when he was fighting with a piece of food from his lunch earlier that day that didn’t want to leave it’s spot between his teeth. “Why am I even doing this? It’s barely noticeable.” he thought to himself. But something irked him to get it out before he got out.

After he finally got the pesky piece out, he stepped out of his car and made his way to the classroom that the program was held in. Abby noticed him but the staff member who came to check her out to him wasn’t you. After he gave all the information, signed, and took Abby’s hand, he found that he felt slightly disappointed that it wasn’t you this time and thought that he fought that food between his teeth for nothing.

The drive home consisted of silence as Abby stared out the window and Mike stewed in his thoughts on why he wanted see you every time he came in. It shouldn’t matter if it’s you, or the new teacher Miss Hill, or the old teacher Mrs. Flores, or someone who was a part of that group.

“Did you have fun with (Y/n) today?” Mike asked as he peaked at Abby in the rearview. Why did he ask that? “Yeah. I didn’t have a lot of homework so we spent most of the time talking while I drew.” Abby responded. “What did you talk about?” he questioned. “Not much. They talked about being a teacher’s aid and how they want to be a school teacher.” Abby commented, Mike nodded his head. “I talked about us a little. I told them that you work and take care of me.” she explained, “And they said that’s really nice of you to be doing both.” Abby referenced. Mike thought about that for a second. “Did they?” he responded.

The rest of the evening and night went on as normal. But Mike found that he didn’t really pay attention to the late night TV like he usually does. He was caught up on what Abby said today about you. Mike tried to brush it off but just couldn’t, and he didn’t like it all that much. It made him feel dumb. Why was he so consumed with what you thought of him, with Abby saying that you think he’s nice for taking care of his little sister and being their breadwinner and him recently starting to care about how he looked under the possibility of you and him seeing each other while he got Abby.

There was no way he had some stupid crush on you. You were just some staff member who took care of Abby after school and he was just her older brother. That’s all you should be to each other.

He thinks that while also thinking about how maybe he should pack a mini toothbrush and toothpaste tube so his lunch doesn’t end up in his breath in case you catch it next time you talk.

#I just needed to write this lol #Don't know if this will be a new media I write for or if I'm just excited for October #Actual tags -->#fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #one shot #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf x reader #fnaf movie x reader

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atlabeth · 2 years ago

Text

far too young to die - anthony lockwood

summary: three things happen on the day you decide to solve your problem:

your tea-making skills get lauded

you get the biggest history lesson of your life

everything goes wrong.

you should have expected this the moment lockwood & co got involved.

a/n: this got away from me but twas very fun to write and protective lockwood is becoming my lifeblood lol<3 enjoy and remember kids: fuck netflix

wc: 5.7k

warning(s): canon typical stuff, mentions of murder and throat slitting, implied/sort of described domestic abuse, hurt/comfort. reader panics a lot. suspend your disbelief please and thank you. reader also has a last name of holloway just for convenience

Reading the newspaper was impossible this morning.

Your leg wouldn’t stop bouncing up and down, and the envelope on the far side of the table drew your eye every five seconds, and your neighbor did not need to be cutting his lawn at the moment, and all the while that presence was there. It always was, whispering illegible things to you and taunting you through the shadows and making your life a living hell you couldn’t prove.

An unwilling shiver ran down your spine, and you tamped down on it.

After today, it would finally be over.

Hopefully.

The doorbell rang, and you about jumped out of your skin. You took a deep breath, calming your heartbeat as you set your cup of tea back on the table, and went over to the door. When you opened it, you were met by three teenagers about your age, and the lanky, dark-haired boy in front gave you a small smile.

“We’re here for Edmund Holloway,” he said. “Have we got the right address?”

“You do—I’m his daughter,” you said. “You’re the agents?”

The boy nodded. “Anthony Lockwood of Lockwood and Co.” He held out his hand and you shook it, and once you released it he gestured to the other boy and girl standing with him. “These are my colleagues, Lucy Carlyle and George Karim.”

You nodded again, wringing your hands together as you let out a shaky exhale and said your name. “Anthony, Lucy, George— nice to meet you all.”

“Lockwood is just fine,” he said, and you nodded.

“Are you the one who put out the ad?” George asked with a frown. “It doesn’t look like your father is here.”

You shook your head. “My father put out the ad. He’s on a business trip at the moment.”

Anthony frowned. “Why isn’t he here?”

“He doesn’t handle ghosts very well,” you said wryly. “Gives him an awful fright.”

“Most people don’t,” Lucy said. “That’s why we’re around.”

“Forgive my bluntness, but it doesn’t seem very smart of him to leave his daughter in a haunted house,” Lockwood said. “Even if agents are clearing the house.”

“He doesn’t exactly… know I’m still here,” you admitted sheepishly. “My father expected me to stay at a friend’s house until today, give you all the payment, and then make myself scarce until the problem was solved.”

“Why in the world are you here then?” George asked.

“...Because I need to know that this ghost is gone,” you stated. “I need to see with my own eyes that it’s over.”

Lockwood eyed you cautiously, and you cleared your throat as you stepped aside. “Come in, agents. I can explain over tea.”

You closed the door as they filed inside, and you wrought your hands together as you followed them. “I’ve got Earl Grey and chamomile, if anyone’s interested,” you said as you began filling up your kettle.

“Chamomile would be lovely,” Lucy said, her eyes wandering around the interior as she took a seat next to George at your table.

Lockwood, however, stayed standing. He pointed at a painting hanging on the wall and glanced at you. “Starry Night?”

You nodded. “My grandmother painted it when she was younger. She specifically left it in her will for me.”

He smiled. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is, isn’t it?” You pulled a tin of loose tea out of your cabinet and set it on the table. “I’ve never been much of a painter myself, but I’ve always wanted to learn like her.”

“As interesting as this is, you said you would explain your poor choices,” George interrupted. “And your history.”

“Blunt as he is,” Lockwood said dryly, “he’s right.” He took a seat next to Lucy, leaning back in the chair. “Tell us everything you know about this house—anything that could be causing the haunting.” George cleared his throat and his lips twitched. “And why you’re still in the haunted house alone.”

You nodded, leaning against the counter with a sigh. “To answer the question on all of your minds, I have no idea who the ghost could be. My only guess is some fellow from decades ago, back before the house was in our immediate family.”

“You inherited it?” George asked.

“From my grandmother,” you said, “the same one who painted. She died a few decades ago, and she left the house to her son in her will. After my mother died, my father and I moved here to get away from the memories.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Lucy said softly, and you managed a smile.

“Thank you.” You folded your arms across your chest. “And before you ask, no—it’s not my mother’s ghost. She died far away from here, and she’d have no reason to stay behind.”

“Do you know when this house was built?” George asked. “A lot of the architecture looks Victorian.”

“Sharp eye,” you said with a slight smile, and you stood up from your spot against the counter as the kettle started to whistle. You poured the water into three mugs and added your handmade tea bags before you looked back at them. “It was built in the 1850s, I believe. I think it’s been in our family since then, but I’ve only been aware of it since my grandmother.”

“Could it be your grandmother’s ghost then?” Lucy asked, and you shook your head.

“She didn’t die here. And she wouldn’t have any reason to stay either,” you said. “Which is why I’ve had no idea who it could be.”

“Strange indeed,” Lockwood agreed, suddenly speaking up. His gaze pierced into you. “You’ve got such a connection to this ghost and yet you don’t even know who it could be.”

Your cheeks burned. George huffed a laugh.

“That’s right,” he said. “You haven’t even told us about why you’re still here.”

“The ghost hasn’t just been haunting our house,” you murmured, staring down at the floorboards. You’d have to clean the dirt between the cracks later. “It’s… it’s been haunting me too.”

Lucy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s always around me,” you said, and even then you could feel the chills all over your body. At this point, though, it might’ve been your own design. “I— I can always feel its presence, I hear it whispering to me constantly, and it feels like every time I touch something old in here I get a damned vision, or voices in my head, and—”

You stopped, realizing your voice had risen without you noticing, and you took a deep breath.

“And I feel like I’m going insane,” you finished, your tone much quieter than before.

“You’ve got Touch,” Lockwood concluded, something different in his eyes. Lucy’s expression had softened, and George just looked even more interested than before when you nodded.

“Talent that strong and you’re not an agent,” he said. “Why?”

“I’ve never wanted it,” you said dryly. “And after dealing with this ghost for the past few months, I’ve got even less desire.”

“You should consider it,” he said. “Maybe then you won’t have a ghost in your backyard.”

“This ghost has been toying with you for months, but it hasn’t even tried to harm you,” Lucy said. “It’s definitely a Type 2 based off your description, so I’ve got no idea why. What’s the point?”

Lockwood shrugged, and he gave a nod of thanks as you placed the mugs of tea in front of them. “Maybe it’s related to you after all. I’ve heard cases of relatives not harming their own, especially in more sentient Type 2s—it’s rare, but it happens.” He looked at you. “If this house has been in your family since the 1800s, surely there’s been at least one violent Holloway death worthy of the Other Side.”

“Is your theorizing always this fun?” you asked as you crossed your arms.

“Usually more,” he said helpfully. Lockwood took a sip of tea and hummed. “We should get chamomile more often.”

“I’m always telling you to,” Lucy said. “George is just insistent on making his own black tea.”

“That’s because it’s far superior!” he exclaimed. “You should be thanking me for it, honestly.”

Lockwood took another sip and looked at them. “She makes a great chamomile. It might just change your mind.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt your conversation,” you said, arms still folded as their heads all snapped to you, “but we’ve only got two hours until the sun sets, and this house is still very much haunted.”

“Right. I guess that means we should start preparations.” Lockwood stood up, smiling at you. “Thank you for the tea and your information. We’ll take your keys, vet the place, and hopefully have your ghost vanquished before morning comes.”

“You don’t need my keys,” you said. “I’m staying.

George laughed. “You can’t be serious.”

He looked at you, completely serious, and then at Lockwood, who wasn’t immediately objecting, and his eyes widened. “You can’t be serious!”

“I want to help,” you said plainly. “It’s my house, it’s my ghost. I want it gone, and I want to be there when it happens.”

“You’ve got no training,” he said. “You’ve got Talent, sure, but zero training. You’ll just—” he looked at Lockwood— “she’ll just slow us down.”

“…You do know this place better than anyone,” Lockwood said, eyes still on you. “Right?”

You nodded. “Lived here for the past ten years. I know all its nooks and crannies, and I could guide you through it blindfolded.”

“You’re not an agent,” George said.

“You said it yourself that I’ve got Talent,” you said, “and an obvious connection to this place and whatever’s haunting it, seeing as the ghost won’t leave me alone.”

“Lucy, you can’t seriously be okay with this,” he said, glancing at her.

“…I have some Touch too. I can help her, see if we’re picking up the same things. Besides,” Lucy said with a shrug, “you all took me in on a whim before I was fully certified. It’s just one job, in her house of all places.”

“I won’t impede your work—I promise.” You looked at Lockwood, desperation mixing with resolve in your eyes. “For months, this house has haunted me from within. I want to be with you when you destroy it.”

Lockwood’s lips quirked up in the slightest of smiles as he nodded. “Alright, then.”

You immediately broke into a wide smile of your own as George sighed. “DEPRAC is going to have a field day with us if anything goes wrong. Allowing a completely uncertified girl to help us.”

“If anything goes wrong, I’ll personally take the blame for it,” you said. “I’ll say I forced you into letting me work with you all, and I will pay any fines.”

“Once we got fined 60,000 pounds for burning a house down,” he deadpanned. “Are you alright with that?”

You frowned. “Should I really be hiring you all?”

“Come off it, George,” Lockwood said, and he collapsed his hands together. “Nothing like that will happen today, I assure you.” He smiled wryly. “As long as everything you told us was the truth, that is.”

“It is,” you said. “I wouldn’t lie about something like this.”

Lucy huffed a laugh. “You’d be surprised what some people do.”

“Another reason I don’t want to become an agent,” you supplied.

Lockwood picked up their bags and set them on the table, and he pulled out a bundle of chains then he tossed it to you. You caught it with a slight grunt.

“Do you know how to use those, not-an-agent?” Lockwood asked wryly.

You rolled your eyes, though not without mirth, and nodded. “I read, Mr. Lockwood.”

“Good. Those are for your protection. We’ll protect you, of course,” he gestured at his rapier, “but it’s a last resort.”

“Let’s try not to get there, then,” you said.

“One thing you should know about working with us is that things rarely go to plan,” George said.

“That is not true,” Lockwood rushed, but that only proved that it was most certainly true.

You sighed as you finished the rest of your tea from before, having gone cold. You were certainly getting yourself into something with these agents.

“Right, then,” Lockwood said, clearing his throat. He pulled out his rapier, that small smirk showing itself again as he looked at all of you. “Let’s catch ourselves a ghost.”

You didn’t think your house had ever been as intimidating, as tense, as it did now.

You creeped through its hallways alongside the agents, the chains icy cold in your grip, almost scared to even breathe. Lockwood and Lucy had their rapiers drawn, and George held a net in one hand with one of their bags slung over his shoulder.

They carried themselves differently than any of the teenagers you’d been around, with an air of eerie confidence completely foreign to you. It was admirable in a sense. Scary to think it could have been you.

“No death glows yet,” Lockwood muttered. “Hear anything, Luce?”

“Very faint yelling,” she murmured. “I can tell it’s an argument—there’s two different voices, but that’s all I can make out.”

Lockwood looked at you, but you shook your head. “Not ringing a bell.”

“Where?” George asked. “Arguments are a good sign.”

Lucy edged past Lockwood so she was in the lead, and you moved up the stairs. She paused at the top, her eyes closed and her brow slightly furrowed. “It’s even louder up here. I feel it all over, but it’s stronger around here. It’s a couple, a man and a woman—finances, jealousy, general unhappiness…” Lucy opened her eyes and looked at you. “Did your grandparents argue while they lived here?”

“They argued like any other couple,” you said, “but as far as I know, they were completely happy. They loved each other.” You frowned. “And I don’t know why regular arguments would be so strong around here after so long.”

“Time isn’t the biggest aspect for sounds,” Lucy explained. “They can linger for decades and be as strong as the day it happened.”

“And maybe they weren’t just regular arguments,” George suggested, your stomach sinking at the thought.

“Could it be your grandfather’s ghost?” Lucy asked.

You shook your head. “No. He’s alive, and he doesn’t even live in England anymore.”

“Move around and touch some things then,” George said. “See if you get anything.”

And so you did. You handed the chains to Lockwood and laid your hands on various things around the hallway and some of the rooms while George and Lucy went off on their own—the walls, certain objects, the beds. All you got were memories from your first few years here, and a blur of the decades between your grandparents. It was overwhelming, and you had to pull away after you touched your grandfather’s watch in your dad’s room.

“Do you feel alright?” Lockwood asked. Though George and Lucy had gone off on their own, Lockwood had stayed with you to, one, make sure you were protected as his client, and two, keep track of any information. “You’re stumbling a bit.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, “I’m… I’m fine. I’m just not used to using my Talent on purpose like this.”

“On purpose,” he repeated wryly.

“I try not to do anything with it,” you said. “I told you, I don’t want to be an agent.”

“There’s a lot of people out there that would kill for a power like yours,” he said. “Kids stuck on night watch, agents with fading Talent, adults who can’t see for shit. Seems strange to just… ignore yours.”

You shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m not ignoring it now, am I?”

“No,” Lockwood said, “I suppose you’re not.”

Eventually, you made it to another room, your grandparents’ old bedroom that you’d ended up turning into your father’s office, and when you opened the door Lockwood whistled.

“That’s a bright death glow.”

You grimaced. “So this is where they died.”

He nodded. “By the look of it, it wasn’t pretty.”

“Great,” you muttered, and you walked inside.

“Lucy! George!” Lockwood called as he followed you in, craning his neck to look behind him. “Get over here—we’ve got a lead!”

“What is it?” you heard Lucy asking, her voice getting closer.

Though you started to answer, you didn’t get the chance to finish as the door slammed shut on its own, separating you and Lockwood from the others. Your eyes widened as you whirled around.

“Don’t panic,” Lockwood said immediately. You nodded shakily despite the blood pounding in your ears, and at your confirmation, he yelled out. “Luce? George? Are you alright?”

“We’re fine!” Lucy shouted, and there was the rattling of the doorknob. “Is it locked on your side?”

You moved forward and tried to turn the handle to test it, but a scream was ripped from your throat as you stumbled backwards. Your hands flew to your neck, splaying across the skin as you expected to feel blood, but there was nothing. The cold metal pressed against your skin, the sharp edge of the knife tore across it, but there was nothing. Centuries flashed behind your eyelids but there was nothing.

Lucy and George called out your name, but you couldn’t respond, your eyes wide as dinner plates as your whole body shook.

“God, are you alright?” Lockwood caught your shoulders before you could run into him, and his hands stayed there when he realized how much you were trembling. When you turned to look at him, your hand still pressed against your neck to stop invisible bleeding, his eyes were filled with concern. “What did you see?”

“I… I—” You tried to voice it, but the words stuck in your throat as the tremors continued.

Lucy yelled your name again and there was a bang on the door, and Lockwood looked up. “She’s okay! She felt something when she touched the handle— Lucy, see what you can get on your side!”

“Got it!”

“It’s okay,” Lockwood said softly, his attention turning back to you. His hands on your shoulders grounded you, and he was a surprisingly welcome presence. “Whatever’s here, I won’t let it hurt you. You just have to tell me whatever it is you saw when you touched that doorknob.”

“I didn’t see anything,” you finally managed. “I— I heard them yelling, screaming, threatening to leave each other, and then—” You forced your breathing to still, but it hardly worked.

“And then what?” His voice was still just as soft, and he didn’t move away from you or take his hands back. He just stood there, waiting for you.

“And then he killed her, Lockwood,” you whispered, your hand falling to his wrist. “She threatened to leave him, and he slit her throat.” You still felt the blood dripping down your neck. You wanted to crawl out of your skin.

He was alarmingly good at keeping his emotions in check, the only sign of his shock the slightest pause before he asked again. “Who?”

“I— I don’t know,” you said. “I just— I felt it, and it’s the same presence I’ve been feeling for months.”

“So it’s our ghost,” he said. “Obviously, but we just need to see if Lucy can…”

His words phased through your ears as the air in front of you shimmered, blue light coalescing into the source of your endless tormentor. One image, one woman, one ghost, the face of someone you never thought was an option, and you could do nothing but stare.

“Lockwood,” you croaked, and he turned around. Immediately, his expression hardened, and he said your name as he moved forward and in turn pushed you behind him.

“Don’t make a sound,” he uttered as he slowly drew his rapier, and he handed the chains back to you. You took them as quietly as possible, and with his arm braced in front of you, he moved the two of you back a safe distance. “Do you recognize her?”

You nodded, but you couldn’t speak. All you could do was stare up, wide-eyed at the ghost above you. You’d been expecting a monstrous apparition, a cruel face to put to the presence that had been haunting you all this time, but it wasn’t. It was familiar, and perhaps it was cruel all the same, because the ghost was—

“Now would be a good time to say it,” Lockwood said dryly.

You nodded again, your voice barely a whisper. “I guess I was wrong.” Your throat bobbed. “Because that’s my grandmother.”

“Ah,” Lockwood said placidly. “The ghost really is your grandmother. Lovely.”

“I never knew,” you whispered. “I didn’t know she died here, that she was murdered—”

“You’ve got to stay calm,” Lockwood interrupted. “You’re not going to be any help to me or yourself if you’re not calm.”

You didn’t know how you were supposed to stay calm in the face of your murdered ghost of a grandmother, who looked far younger than she was supposed to because she was murdered—

“Do you hear me?” he asked, his voice more assertive than before. “I need you to stay calm for me.”

Your vocal chords decided to work this time, though just barely. “I— I’ll try my hardest.”

“I’m sure you know this already,” he said wryly, “but don’t let her touch you.”

And then, George’s voice rang out.

“What the hell is going on in there?” he called, and the ghost lunged.

Lockwood pushed you back all the while slashing his rapier at your grandmother, her screams filling your ears and penetrating your body to the bone. It stole the breath out of you, even as her body dissolved from the metal, and Lockwood latched onto your arm as he backed to the edge of the room with you.

“We’ve got a Type 2 in here!” Lockwood yelled, his sword brandished and his arm still protectively in front of you as his eyes darted all over the room, breath held as he waited to see where she would appear next. “George, work on getting that lock open! Lucy, find the source!”

“Do you have any idea what it is, or am I just on a wild goose chase?” Lucy asked frantically.

“The latter,” you responded, and you heard her groan as she ran off.

“I don’t know if a lockpick will even work,” George said, voice muffled through the wood. “Ghost powers don’t respond well to science.”

“At least try,” Lockwood said. “I’d appreciate it knowing you’re on the case.”

“As long as you try not to die,” he grumbled.

“No promises.”

You shook your head as shaky breaths rocked through you. “Your sense of humor is a bit morbid.”

Lockwood winked, somehow smiling even now. “We’ve got to cope somehow.”

You huffed a laugh, only slightly unhinged. “Sorry about this, by the way. I really didn’t know that it was my grandmother. Honest to God, I had no idea she died here.”

“One of the less egregious problems we’ve had,” Lockwood said. His eyes sharpened as he looked across the room, and your grandmother’s ghost suddenly appeared again.

His grip loosened on your arm as he pulled away, handling his rapier with the skill of someone twenty years his elder. You lashed out with your chains whenever she got too close, staying behind Lockwood every time he shifted or twisted or moved around the office, but in such a small space—all the while dealing with her screams and the constant dread just being near her filled you with—you were beginning to grow tired.

“Do you have any idea what her source would be?” he asked. “Or— or where it would be?”

“No!” you exclaimed. “I thought we’d just be dealing with some bloke that was killed a few decades ago, not my grandmother and her vicious murder that I knew nothing about!”

“Try and think, then!” Lockwood thrust forward with his rapier, preventing the ghost from advancing on the two of you for a moment as he continued to move back. “I know that this is shocking, but we’ll have time to deal with that later. Right now, you have to focus! Use your talent!”

Your heart beat like a hammer, the blood pounding in your ears, and you nodded. “Keep her away from me.”

Before Lockwood could question anything, before you could second guess yourself, you lashed out with the chains and darted past your grandmother’s ghost. You latched onto the doorknob again as you screwed your eyes shut, and it hit you all at once.

You weren’t immediately dead, so you assumed Lockwood was doing his job. But centuries of memories flashed before your eyes, and you were living through years simultaneously.

The first time your grandparents toured the house together, your grandfather closing the door behind him as he took a moment for himself. He knew then that was where he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

When they decided to buy the house and crossed the threshold for the first time, him carrying your grandmother all the way up the stairs and to their bedroom, her falling onto the bed with a delighted squeal.

Your father was born, and your grandfather’s hand slipped off the doorknob as he carried his newborn baby into the room, cooing and rocking him while he walked over and sat on the side of his bed.

He lost his job, closing the door with a hand running down his face as he slammed his fist into the wall. The wallpaper dented beneath his knuckles, but he didn’t even notice.

Your grandmother carefully closing the door behind her, padding over to the desk, opening the drawer and finding letters. Undistilled shock and barely bridled anger, the stench of betrayal.

An awful argument, the worst yet. Screaming so loud it rocked the walls of the room, insults and threats and accusations flying through the air without a second thought. She went to leave, put her hand on the doorknob, but he went mad with rage. He slashed her throat from behind before he can even think, and your grandmother died with her hand still on the handle before she collapsed.

The doorknob, and—

“Her brooch,” you muttered, and your eyes widened as you slammed your hand against the door. “George, the brooch! Tell Lucy to get the brooch!”

“What brooch?” he yelled back.

“My grandmother’s brooch!” you shouted. “My grandfather gave it to her as an anniversary gift. It’s emerald, Georgian cut! You’ll know when you see it— the vanity in the master bedroom on the first floor! You don’t have time to get her, just go!”

His footsteps ran off, but you didn’t even get a moment to relax as you felt that awful presence again.

You whirled around and your breath caught in your chest, frozen stiff as you stared back at the face of your grandmother.

It wasn’t that cruel, demented thing you’d seen when she attacked at first. This was just… her. Beautiful and fair-faced, late thirties having no effect on her. The eyes of your father, elegantly braided hair. You recognized the style of her dress, one that had been passed down to you.

She looked like… like you’d imagined yourself in a decade or two.

God, she was so young. Young and in love and betrayed.

The world grew dimmer, your surroundings taking on a crystalline sheen. Everything was cold and your muscles were made of lead. You heard distant shouts, but it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

You were so tired.

And then it all shattered. You crumpled to your knees, an overwhelming stabbing in your head as your breath came back to you in haggard waves.

Lockwood was over you, his rapier forgotten on the ground, and he shook your shoulders as he said your name over and over.

“…Lockwood?” you managed, your eyes barely open as you looked up at him.

His smile was one of pure relief as he nodded, and though he stopped shaking, his hands still remained on your shoulders. “Yeah. You’re alright.”

“What happened?” you murmured.

“You were ghost-locked,” he said breathlessly. “I tried to fend her off, but she was only focused on you. George must’ve gotten to the source right before she could get you.” He smiled sheepishly, but there was clear-cut fear behind those eyes. “Sorry about that.”

“I nearly died,” you said. The words tasted like plastic on your tongue, unusual and stiff.

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have let that happen.”

Lockwood went to say more, but the door busted open suddenly, drawing the attention of both of you.

George and Lucy were both completely out of breath when they barged in. Lucy’s rapier was drawn and George held your grandmother’s brooch in his hand, wrapped ten times over in a metal net.

“Are you all okay?” Lucy asked, her eyes wide as yours. “I could hear her all the way downstairs, and—”

“We’re alright,” you interrupted, and you looked at Lockwood. He got the hint, and he helped you up from the ground. The energy had been completely drained from you after being ghost-locked, so he kept his arm around you.

“Looks like you were right,” George said, holding the brooch up. “Half-right, the ghost being your grandmother and all, but you’re right where it matters.”

“Pretty good time to be right,” you said shakily.

“Last minute save.” Lockwood laughed breathlessly. “You fit right in here.”

Lockwood helped you downstairs, and he insisted on making tea for you while you sat at the table with George and Lucy explaining what had happened.

Your grandparents were happy, you hadn’t been wrong, but one too many things went wrong beneath the surface. They got married young, but he never felt like he was good enough for her despite her reassurances. He lost his job a week before your father was born, and with the stress, the finances, the jealousy— it all built up. Your grandfather snapped, so your grandmother did as well.

“...and he killed her,” you finished quietly. “She found out he was cheating on her, they had this huge argument and she actually meant to follow through on her threats of leaving him.” You swallowed around the lump in your throat. “It turns out she never got the chance, and my grandfather’s been lying to us and the world ever since.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lucy murmured, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now.”

You nodded thankfully, and you smiled up at Lockwood as he placed a fresh cup of tea in front of you. It warmed your bones when you took a sip, and you already felt your strength coming back from the ordeal.

“You all might get some calls from the police,” you said. “I’m going to call my father tonight and tell him everything, and then we’re going straight to the authorities.”

“We’ll back you up if we get any,” Lockwood assured. “We’ll tell them everything you told us.”

Lucy and George nodded. “I got some visions of my own that corroborate your story,” she said, “so don’t worry about proof.”

George held up your grandmother’s brooch, still wrapped in the net. “I’ll hold onto this if they need it for evidence. Soon as it’s done, we’ll take it straight to the furnaces.”

You nodded gratefully, and after another sip of tea, you stood up. Your legs didn’t shake, so you took another step and looked back at them. “Come on. I’ll walk you all out.”

After the three of them gathered their things, you followed them to the door, and your smile was the most genuine it had been since this all started.

“I can’t thank you all enough,” you said. “Lucy, George, Lockwood—you’ve put an end to my misery, you’ve finally put my grandmother to rest, and you’ve helped bring a murderer to justice.” Your shoulders felt a whole lot lighter as you handed the envelope to Lockwood. “I’m forever in your debt.”

“I wouldn’t say forever in our debt,” George said. “You’ve just paid that off.”

You cracked a smile as Lockwood swatted him with the envelope, then he looked back at you with the same charm as always.

“We were happy to help. And we appreciated yours as well.” Lockwood dug into his pocket and pulled something out, pressing it into your hand. He lingered for just a moment too long before he pulled away and cleared his throat.

“Your business card,” you realized as you brought it up closer. “What for?”

“You’re Talented,” Lockwood said, “obviously. Even though you haven’t honed it at all, you’ve still got some pretty impressive raw ability. If you ever find you want to put it to use, learn the ropes of being an agent… give us a call.” He smiled. “Lockwood & Co would be happy to have you.”

You looked over at Lucy, almost as if you wanted her approval. She gave you that faint smile. “You’re good when you’re confident, Holloway. And it would be nice to have another girl.”

George, next. He shrugged.

“You held your own,” he said, “mostly. I wouldn’t be opposed to it if you got some training. We can’t expand our agency for just anyone.”

“And you already know what I think,” Lockwood said with that same smile.

You couldn’t help a slight one of your own, and you looked at the business card again before shoving it into your pocket. “I’ll think about it.”

Lockwood nodded. “35 Portland Row. Remember it.”

“I don’t think I could forget,” you said with a soft laugh.

His lips twitched into a smile. “Good.”

Lockwood nodded at you one last time, something passing between you for just a moment before he turned around and his crew followed him. You watched the three of them get into the taxi and drive off before you closed the door, allowing yourself a deep, deep sigh.

And despite all the chaos that had just occurred, despite the life-changing revelation that was brought forth, despite your near-death experience and the shift to your axis and the tainting of your family tree, as you walked back inside and picked up the phone to dial your father…

You felt more at peace than you had in a long, long time.

You took the business card out of your pocket, staring at it as you waited for the number to connect.

…Maybe, you thought wryly.

Just maybe.

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77 @simonsbluee @kwyloz @masteroperator @louderfortheback

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #lockwood & co x reader #lockwood & co #x reader #reader insert #sadie writes

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wrenkenstein · 17 days ago

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OC creation musings + Juno retrospective

I was rewatching this video by Rea, and it struck me that this exact phenomenon happened to me in 2022, with the first inklings of Juno's design - back when I couldn't decide on whether or not her name would be "Juno" or "Kite", and desperately trying not to make her a scientist. She's obviously come such a long way since then, having now become a very well-known character in the fandom, but I often think of the fact that had she not become on of my artistic passions, I probably wouldn't be anywhere near where I am today.

Juno is absolutely everything to me. She is a representative of my passion for storytelling, and she connected me with so many of my now closest friends - one of which is currently living in my house! How crazy is that, man! All of which I can attribute to simply becoming so fixated on my own OC that I couldn't stop thinking about her, or drawing her.

Of course, that's come with some highs and lows. She's getting a professionally done cosplay, a 3D model and potentially a Battlefront mod - but she also has her own dedicated group of haters who think she represents the 'wrongs' of fandom, lol. I certainly have recieved my fair share of 'Juno hate' in my 3-4 years here, but the positivity and support make it well worth dealing with a few rotten apples. It's radiant and outpouring, like a warm ray of sun, and it keeps me going deep into the night.

Anyways. Total tangent. Want to see all her design iterations? Yea you do ;) Here's the first ever Juno ref!

I made this on my phone in 2022, at the tale end of watching TCW and back when TBB was just one season. You can definitely see that the idea was always there, just a bit disjointed in its application. That gas mask on her helmet ended up causing a lot of confusion, so I removed it in later iterations - but to this day, I think this one picture is what really captivated me. Something about the aura, man,, she scary lookin

Then, of course, I had to draw what her face would look like - if it hadn't been for a RP, I don't think I would have.

Woah - she's like a whole different person! And you can see the beginnings of her white hair streak, though back then, I wanted i to be really subtle. And I was soooo adamant about this lol. She also was almost beat for beat Ellen Ripley, and you can see me paint over a picture of Sigourney below with her OG faceclaim haha.

Then we have the Juno-ing... part two. Where I went darker!! Both in themes, and in her color scheme. This one still has so much personality, and I remember being obsessed with how I drew her eyes and face back then. Nowadays, I think it's hideous. xD This was also around the time I was phasing out her gauntlets and oxygen mask, but both still remained for practicality purposes, even if they didn't serve anything to the design. Oh, and the hair streak. Now it's a Thing :tm: but it isn't really flowing well with the design - not yet, anyways!

We finally get to a point where I, begrudingly, accept the fact that her white streak is going to be her facial focal point - and at this point I'm laughing about how much I tried to avoid it LOL. But here, we also see her get more and more refined. Her face is still a bit wonky, but the stern vibe and posture are starting to come together and tell more of a concrete story, even if the reference doesn't have as much color or personality as the last one. I also did this one for my senior year of college!

I even designed her some totally BS civvies - and I gave her a s2 paint job, which admittedly looks hideous LMAOOO but we ball regardless. The second design was scrapped anyways almost immediately. The civvies stayed!

And then, of course, THE FINALE! Her face went through so many iterations with her current ref, but thus far, it's been the longest standing and most accurate one. It atually started out just as me goofing off with a marker pen in CSP, that quickly changed to "hey... this could be something good." And I was right! This is the Juno that's currently circulating today, and I've been polishing and refining her as I go, since I still feel as though I could perfect things.

And then, of course, her various outfits, which I posted about a while back. Oh - and have you seen Baby Juno?

Well now you have. :)

I think it's so cool to see how someone can fixate on a character and pour so much love and thought into them, that this character becomes their entire brand. Juno inhabits every part of my brain space and is what I think about 24/7. I'm so proud of how far she comes, and she reminds me about how incredible fandom can be and continues to be! Something about her is just so intoxicating to me. I can't get enough of her, and I can't wait to keep developing her over the years to come.

Which then begs the question - what is your equivalent to this entire thread? Do you have an OC like Juno, who you're fixated on and who dominates your creative pursuits? Do they have multiple artistic iterations? Because if you do, share them!! I WANNA SEEEEEE.

Anyways, that's Wren's Ramblings for today ~ I got bored haha

SHARE YOUR OCS!!!! >:0

#the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #star wars #juno caheere #juntech #mandalorian oc #mandalorian #star wars character #star wars oc #original character #oc #fanart

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dumpsterfire-daydreams · 5 days ago

Text

Hmmm~ After the way this chapter ends, I wonder what will happen next~ Hold onto your butts though, because a wild twist is coming very very soon!

Brooding Ghost, horny Ghost, sexually frustrated Ghost, surprised Reader, inquisitive Reader, [classified information lol. just read for the full details]

Ghost POV:

Though everyone else had happily found their way to the mess hall after sparring practice, Ghost had completely lost his appetite. There was a sickness curdling in his stomach and it had nothing to do with digestion. It it was, it'd be preferable to what he was feeling. No, all of this was instead coming from his head. From his emotions. He sullenly traversed the halls of the barracks like a vengeful wraith. On his march to his room, everyone immediately gave him a wide berth as he passed. No one dared utter a word to him, his simmering expression making doubly sure of that. But even so, he still heard their whispers. Everyone was abuzz about his moment of humiliation. And it pissed him off. It was bad enough that the girl had unmasked him like that in front of the entire team. That she’d managed to catch him off guard when he should have had the upper hand from start to finish. But the whirlwind of heated gossip whipping through the base only made it worse.

Ghost wasn’t necessarily sore that his mask had been removed. In truth, he’d been seen without it a handful of times. Sometimes, combat got a little unruly and it couldn’t be avoided if he wanted to make it out alive. A few team mates had spotted him when he’d thought he was alone and craved sunlight on his skin. So it wasn’t just about his mask coming off. It was that she had been the one to do it. Her, the seductive thorn in his side that he couldn’t manage to dig out. It seemed that no matter what he did, his mind was haunted with her presence whether she was there in the flesh or not.

He’d tried giving her the cold shoulder in an effort to keep her distant - and to keep his hands off her. But she still drew him in like a star caught in the greedy pull of a black hole. He’d scared her shitless last night when he'd put his hands on her, unable to resist the tempting opportunity. But that peek at his more dangerous side should have sent her running like hell. And it hadn’t. He hadn’t held back during sparring either. He’d roughed her up a bit and admittedly taken things a step too far in the end. But no matter what he did, he couldn’t get her to leave, stay away from him, or stay out of his head.

Losing his cool during their match was yet another pain point to add to his lengthy list. He never lost it like that. Ever. No one made his cold, distanced demeanor crack. It was his trademark, what he was known for. But she had come along and made him snap in a matter of seconds. She’d done it easily, too. Acting in blissful ignorance, unaware of just how much control she wielded over him. How every brief moment of contact made him ache with need for more. How his hands had been desperate for any excuse to hold her, to touch her. How his cock had been throbbing painfully in his pants the entire time. And how it was continuing to do so even now.

Ghost sat in his room, sulking through the lunch hour. His stomach was beginning to protest at the lack of food, but it would have to wait. There was too much on his mind right now. And the last thing he needed added to it was a hoard of chattering people on all sides. What Ghost needed most was to try to sort through everything he was feeling. Emotions were never his strong suit. In order to do what he did so well, they had to be viewed as dangerous distractions and nothing more. But while he had the time, he did his best to pick apart just what he was feeling in an effort to find some manner of relief.

Anger. Annoyance. Frustration. Hatred. Envy. Longing. Desire. Hunger. Need.

All of those terms eventually came through loud and clear. But the consistent cord that connected them all was arousal. Desperate, unrelenting arousal. Perhaps that was the key he was looking for. Maybe tugging that one cord would unravel the maddening knot of feelings that continued to expand in his mind.

With a resigned huff, he reached into his closet and grabbed his soiled glove from his hamper. He’d thrown it in there in a brief fit of frustration. But deep down, he knew he could never bring himself to wash it - to wash her away. Maybe he should. Maybe it was things like this that made this nightmare even more of a living hell. But at the same time, if he couldn’t have her, this vulgar trace might be the closest he’d ever get to the real thing.

“Just need to get this outta my system,” he reasoned, inhaling in the remnants of her intoxicating scent that lay trapped within the woven fibers. He hurriedly undid his belt and shoved his hand down his trousers, firmly grasping his throbbing erection in his fist. “A quick wank oughta do it. Then you get your fucking shit together, Ghost.”

He knew how low he looked. Honestly, he felt pretty low, too. Sitting alone in his darkened room, frantically tugging at his cock while huffing a slick-stained glove. It felt juvenile. It made him feel like a hormonal teen whose sole mission in life was to finally touch a girl for the first time. He shouldn’t have to resort to this, not at his age. Not when the girl of his dreams was sitting right there within his reach. Ghost did his best to shove his raging jealousy down once and for all, hoping a quick release would clear his mind. But as he shot his load with a muffled growl, that feeling just came back even stronger. All his body craved was her. And anything less than that just made him crave her even more. It was like being offered a cup of ice when what you really wanted was ice cream. No matter how much of it you were given, it would never meet that need. It would never be enough. This would never be enough.

“Ghost!” Price banged on his door as he hurried passed. “EMT starts in ten!”

Ghost rolled his eyes, falling back onto his bed. And as he laid there, scowling up at the ceiling and cursing the day König’s girlfriend had first set foot on base, he wanted nothing more than to remain there for the rest of the day.

Reader POV:

As you gathered your shower supplies in your room, the idea of a hot shower was sounding better and better. And since Ghost was leading a practice everyone else was guaranteed to be at for a good while, it was the perfect time to claim the bathroom while you still had it to yourself.

The entire time you changed, your mind was completely hooked on the latest secret König had teased. The suspense was killing you! Part of you wanted to shoot him a text or call him. Or get a hold of Price and tell him you needed König and it was an emergency. But you quickly thought better of it. You could all too easily see such a message sending a stampede of concerned armed men towards your room to figure out what was wrong. It looked like you'd just have to suck it up and be patient.

After slipping out of your sweat-stained clothes and slipping on your bathrobe, you threw a few items into your shower caddy. Then you slowly made your way down the hall in search of the bathroom. Your muscles were still aching from that morning's face off. And you knew a moment of solitude paired with hot water raining down on your back would be the perfect way to recharge.

You’d seen pictures of military shower rooms before, so you had a general idea of what to expect. A large portion of a room that functioned as one giant communal shower with benches along its periphery. A row of shower heads that ran along the top of the wall with individual controls installed under each one. Tile walls and flooring that sloped ever so slightly towards the center of the room where a drain was located.

You hoped the shower heads had a good range of motion. Because, if you could line it up just right, the temptation to just lie on your stomach and let all the water massage your back was very strong. But you were immediately disappointed when you entered the bathroom. There was a short corridor of shelves where you could stash bags or clothing. Off to the right were multiple sinks, urinals, and bathroom stalls. And directly ahead were the showers. They were exactly as you had expected, down to the little benches. Everything looked perfect! But sitting in the middle of the furthest one was someone else who apparently had the same shower schedule that you had.

Ghost sat facing the wall back, hunched over and rummaging through his bag in search of something. Rivulets of water were trailing down the broad expanse of his back before disappearing into a towel that cinched low around his hips. He must have just finished a shower a few minutes ago.

You considered saying something to alert him to your presence, but instead chose to remain silent and watch him with curiosity. You'd never had the chance to really look at him without his glare making you shy away. And without all his gear or his constantly hardened gaze, he almost looked human. It didn't surprise you that he was still wearing his mask though. You doubted he was crazy enough to actually waterboard himself by showering with it on. He’d most likely slipped it back into place as soon as his face and hair were sufficiently dry. But who knew for sure? What did surprise you were the jagged scars criss-crossing over his back. They were all healed and some looked older than others. But you could tell from the way they looked that each one must have been excruciating to earn.

A few seconds later, he withdrew his hand from his bag. A gentle clicking sound echoed off the tile walls as he lit a cigarette and took a long draw. The smoke floated through the air as the pungent scent of burnt tobacco filled the room. Ghost exhaled, blowing a cloud of smoke out through his mask.

"Done staring yet?"

He’d spoken the words without so much as a glance over his shoulder. He’d known you were there the whole time!

“I’m sorry, I was just going to take a shower,” you stammered.

“Then why aren’t you showering?”

“Smart ass,” you muttered internally. But you straightened your back and continued into the bathroom. It looked like he’d be on his way out soon and you were determined to get the shower you craved. But while the opportunity presented itself, you figured now was as good a time as any to try to smooth things over as best you could.

“I wanted to apologize about the thing with your mask,” you said hesitantly. “I didn’t know it was a sensitive thing for you. But I crossed a line and I’m really sorry.”

Ghost didn’t speak right away, instead raising the cigarette back to his lips and inhaling again before responding.

"You saw an opening and you took it. Nothing to be sorry about. You’re the talk of the base now anyway. Don’t lie, I know you’re enjoying it, too."

There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence. You didn’t really know how to respond to that statement. And it was hard to tell if it was an insulting dig or an innocent observation. So, instead of answering, you tried to distract yourself by pulling items out of your shower caddy. In the background, the steady rhythm of Ghost’s smoking continued.

He breathed out, surrounding himself in a light haze before speaking again. “...You okay?”

The question completely caught you off guard. After how ruthless he’d been in the gym, the last thing you had expected was for him to care about how you felt afterward. There was something hesitant in his tone, too. It was almost repentant. Knowing him, this was probably his distanced way of apologizing. And you suspected it was the closest you’d get to the real thing.

“I’m fine,” you said, accepting the meager olive branch. “Just a little sore.”

Ghost grunted softly before returning to his cigarette, going quiet again. Apology or not, you hoped he’d quickly finish his cigarette and just leave so you could de-stress in peace. After your chat with König, there was a lot on your mind that you wanted to sort through. And you wanted to sort through it alone. The last thing you needed was a peeping tom loitering just a few steps away. So you took your time arranging your body wash and shampoo on the shelf suspended beneath the first showerhead.

"Why are you here, Y/n?" His voice sounded exasperated. Or annoyed. It was hard to tell.

You stopped, bewildered at the odd question. "I came to visit König."

"No," he said, finally turning to face you and rising to his feet. “Why are you here? In here with me instead of out there with your mates? After what I did to you, you should be running like hell. You could have run the minute you saw me in here. But you didn’t. So why stay?”

“I told you,” you gave him a nervous laugh, pulling a small loofa out of your shower caddy and setting it down beside your body wash. “I need to take a shower. Anyway, Price wants us to get along. So I guess that’s another reason why I haven’t left.”

Ghost huffed again, crossing his arms and giving you a pointed stare. And when you met his eyes across the room, a wave of exasperation hit you like a load of bricks.

“Look,” you sighed, mirroring his pose. “I know you don't like me, okay? You’ve made that very clear. But let’s just get this assignment over with. Then we can both move on, go our separate ways, and you can hate me as much as you'd like.”

“...You think I hate you?” he asked, slowly starting to approach.

“Honestly, Ghost? I don’t know what to think anymore! You avoided me like the plague when I first got here. Then you fucking assaulted me last night! And then this morning, you almost broke my neck. What am I supposed to think?”

“Do you know what an addiction feels like?” he asked, abruptly changing the topic as he drew nearer to where you stood.

As he walked, your eyes couldn't help but flit down to the waist of his towel. A triangular section of his hips crested above the soft fabric, tilting in a gentle sway in sync with his steps. His torso rose upward in a sharp “V”, the edges of various muscles creating defined lines that hugged the base of his stomach as it tapered outward. Water glistened on his bare skin in a sheen, and tiny droplets of water clung to the light hairs on his chest. You swallowed the growing lump in your throat and tried to make sense of his question, slowly lifting your eyes as he stared down at you.

“Do I what?”

Ghost continued his advance, following his train of thought almost absentmindedly. And images of the previous night flickered through your mind as your back met the shower wall. But he didn’t stop until there was only an inch of separation between your bodies. His hand slowly rose, and for a moment, you thought he was going to grab you by the throat all over again. But this time, his hand rose higher as he reached for your hair. His fingers wound themselves in one of the stray spirals, gently tugging at it. As he spoke, he watched transfixed as it stretched before slipping from his grasp and bouncing back against your temple in a tight coil.

“All it takes is one taste. Then you’re fucked. It sinks its teeth into you, dragging you back like a slave no matter how hard you fight. No matter how strong you think you are. No matter who or what is in your way. It's obsession. Hunger. Need. A craving so strong, you feel like you’d die unless you kept coming back for more.”

He paused. His eyes were intense as always, but beneath that fire was a hint of pleading. They looked desperate and haunted. It felt like he wanted to say more. But he paused, taking a deep breath. “Do you know what that feels like?”

“No?” Your answer came out hesitantly, like a question. You’d never seen him like this before. Expressive? Conversational, even. It was like he was in a trance.

“That’s what I feel when I’m near you. When you look at me? When you’re close to me? That’s what I feel. I can’t get you to stay the fuck out of my head and it pisses me off.”

His gaze burned as he went on. “I want you. I want you and I want you so bad it bloody hurts. I could give you everything you need that König can’t give. I could do it right here, right now. So why the fuck won’t you just let me?”

“Because I can’t do that to König, Ghost,” you said, carefully. “I can’t hurt him like that.”

“I’m not asking about him,” he rasped, pressing in even closer. His hips pressed flush against you and you could feel the unmistakable outline of his desire pressing against you too. “I’m asking about you. I need to know you want me too.”

#konig call of duty #konig x reader #simon riley x konig x reader #simon riley x reader #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #cod smut #ghost x reader #yhsiw #simon ghost riley x reader

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