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dolicekiss · 3 months ago

Text

A debt

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen X Velaryon niece!reader

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni please), dubcon, lucerys velaryon reader (basically reader is lucerys velaryon but female), toxic aemond, threats, unprotected sex (p in v), near death experiment, hair pulling, rough making out, attempted sexual asssult, breeding, virgin!reader, bickering, mentions of blood, tension, kinda angsty

SYNOPSIS: Aemond could never forget that you had taken his eye out, so when you both cross paths at Storm’s End, he demands for what was taken from him. Things went haywire when a sneak attack lead you to fall from your dragon and be swallowed by the large waves. Only that you didn't die, as Aemond finds you and saves you. With nowhere to take you, the prince takes you to a brothel hoping Sylvie would keep you safe there. Little did be know, a beautiful girl such as yourself was not a thing to be put in a brothel.

“I want you to put out your eye, as payment for mine.”

Blue sapphire sparkled in the hollowness of Aemond’s eye when he peeled back his eye patch and revealed the wound you had left behind as a little girl. A regret at best but not anymore. You swallowed, heart thumping in your chest. You possessed no desire to fight him, nor did you wish to indulge with him.

You were only a messenger here.

“One would serve.” Aemond softly spoke, as you watched him reach for a dagger. “I would not blind you.”

The piercing sound of the dagger being tossed at you was more pellucid against your ears than the gushing rainstorm outside. Patterning aggressively on the cobblestones, striking thunder tearing through the sky. The seven were definitely upset, for what was about to take place. An ominous feeling looming over your head, putting your heart in a state of unease.

“Plan to make a gift of it to my mother.”

There was no way he could expect you to take out your own eye. You had acted upon impulse but you were right to do so. He was going to injure your brother and you, that stone in his hand a vivid image embedded in your mind from childhood.

You held your head high, fierce gaze focused on him. “No.”

Aemond seemed disappointed by your response. “Then you are craven as well as a traitor.”

You could hear Lord Borris’ rebuke in the back but it mattered little to Aemond as he marched towards you abruptly, causing you to retreat back. “Give me your eye, or I will take it, bastard!”

“Come fucking take it then.”

Swords were unsheathed and the sound of it echoed within the halls of Lord Borris' castle.

You were filled with panic, your long black braid moving behind your back when you took haste steps back. Before bloodshed could happen, Lord Borris stepped in and sent you back to your dragon. You were thankful for that as this could lead to something worse.

You went out, going to your dragon, Arrax who seemed in quite distress. You patted his back, once or twice and commanded for it to calm down in high valyrian but nothing seemingly worked. Rain had soaked into your clothes and the thunderstorm only grew heavier witch each second. As you mounted it, your gaze set on the empty space where Vhagar once sat.

You made it your goal to reach dragonstone safely and convey the Lord’s message to your mother.

As Arrax flew up in the grey sky, you looked around hoping to not find Aemond but when the massive shadow of Vhagar flew atop you in the clouds, your blood froze. Panic rising up and you knew very well that fighting Aemond in a dragon combat would end with you losing since he had claimed the largest dragon in all of Westeros.

You could feel your dragon’s uneasiness, same as yours and that was not a good sign.

Aemon had disappeared for now and you released a breath of relief, turning your dragon to head for dragonstone.

Only then Vhagar came in front of you, out of nowhere, with its wide mouth open sending your dragon in pure disarray. You tried to control it, in hopes that things will calm down if one dragon is calm enough but no.

Aemond’s laugh echoed in the open sky and it was enough to fill you with chills. You felt Vhagar right behind you, its loud roars having the same affect as Aemond’s malicious laughs. You saw a narrow pathway between two stones and went inside, knowing Vhagar would be incapable of fitting in there with its large size.

Your commands to calm your dragon down were pathetic and useless.

It was scared, as were you.

You could hear Aemond’s deep voice, and it terrified you.

“Jemēla gēlyēni enkā, riña.” Those words, you knew what they meant and you knew Aemond would only calm when he has ripped out your eye from your socket, a vision you would be.

Fearsome was the thought.

Your vision had blurred due to the constant pouring of the rain and your own head was everywhere. But then, out of nowhere your dragon spots Vhagar and in desperate need to protect itself, flies at the beast and breathes fire into her face.

“Lykiri, Arrax! Lykiri!” Your command in high valyrian flies over your tense dragon’s head as you fly away from Vhagar.

You can hear Vhagar losing its calm too, as Aemond’s high valyrian commands roared along with his dragon. You turned around, looking down but there was no sight of Vhagar chasing after you now, so you flew higher.

You broke through the barrier of the dark, looming clouds and when light greeted you, relief washed over you. False assumptions that everything was calm now became the reason of your fall as Vhagar out of nowhere leaped from the side, biting Arrax‘s head into two.

“Vhagar, no!”

Your eyes widened in horror, gaze locking with Aemond as you lost balance and fell down.

That was all you remembered, as you passed out due to the panic and lose of hope. You knew from then on, you were better off dead but what broke your heart the most was the gruesomely demise of your beloved dragon.

Aemond knew he had to find you.

Vhagar had missed you by an inch and the chances of you being alive were somewhat there. He did not wish to start a war, not like this, not by killing off his niece when she was at her weakest.

He had the advantage by being in the possession of the biggest dragon and he knew it was not fair to you.

Aemond dived in, lowering his dragon to the sea, in hopes that he would find you. Endlessly searching in the water, letting out frustrated grunts when he didn't find you. He flew over the shore, all deserted and he noticed something. Bringing Vhagar closer to it, he jumped off her back and ran towards your passed out body.

Thankfully you had washed up on the shore.

Your long braid wrapped around your stomach, the side of your head bloodied and Aemond fell to his knees, reaching for your face.

You were as lifeless as a corpse.

He checked your pulse and relief washed over him. You were alive, although unconscious.

Aemond buried his arms beneath your soaked body, lifting you up and taking you over to Vhagar. He somehow got you on his dragon’s back and tied you to him, your back pressed against his chest and head leaned over his shoulder.

“Fuck, what do I with you now?” He whispered, a mix of worry and frustration donning his face.

He couldn't take you back to the red keep, as they would capture you and hold you hostage. He didn't want that, not when he had not captured you with honor. Aemond was not some monster without morals but he sure could not take you to the blacks, knowing it would put his life in danger.

There was absolutely nothing he could do than fly around Westeros with you on his dragon.

An idea infiltrated the prince's mind.

There was only one place where he could keep you, without bringing you harm and that was the brothel he often visited. Under Sylvie’s care and under her orders, she surely would protect you and keep you safe.

He sighed, flying to where Vhagar usually rested. He allowed her rest while taking a horse, putting his hoodie over your very bright and pleasant features to conceal you.

The realm had seen you, he did not wish for people to take notice of you. Aemond pressed you into his chest as he rode in King's landing, making way to Sylvie’s brothel.

That was the best place to keep you.

As his own hostage.

For no one else to hurt, no one else to lay claim on you.

Sylvie was surprised to see the prince with an unconscious woman in his arms. Aemond only had to glare at her and she allowed him in. Thankfully it was broad daylight and there were not much customers — giving the young prince enough room to smuggle you in the confinement of a room in a secluded area of the brothel upstairs.

“My prince, who is she?”

Aemond sighed, tiresome all this was but it was his fault and deep down he knew that.

“Just know that she is mine and I am entrusting her to you.” Aemond said, staring at your unconscious body laying on the soft bed. “If harm comes to even a strand of her hair, I will behead you and your girls.”

Sylvie was terrified and it was rare of her to be this terrified of Aemond. His tone was dark and she knew that this woman, whoever she might be, was definitely not to sell to her customers. All the woman could do was nod at the prince, obeying his each and every command.

“Trust me, my prince. Rest assured. I shall take care of her like she is my own.”

Aemond was pleased. “Tend to her wounds, clean her and change her clothes. Give her your most expensive dress.”

Sylvie nodded, eyes lowered to the floor as Aemond continued analyzing you. You had the most longest hair he had ever laid eye upon. A long braid which reached your calves and it was as dark as a raven. You surely were no velaryon, as much as you went around parading it like your mother.

But you surely were a Targaryen.

He departed from the brothel, writing a mental note that he would visit again tonight.

Hours passed by and when you finally regained consciousness, it was not in the arms of death nor the waves but on a soft mattress, surrounded by candles everywhere and the strong sweet scent of oils and perfumes.

Your gaze fell on your attire and it was something you would never in your seven lives wear.

A long sleeved dress, made of sheer material, enough to expose your small clothes. Your shoulders revealed and glistening from the oils that had been rubbed on you. Your hand reached to feel your thick braid but instead wavy strands awaited you. Cascading down your back, surrounding you like a fucking gown. You were in a completely different attire than before.

Soft music orchestrated by someone unknown made its tunes inside the room you were in.

It was small, with a bed and a table side. A chair was also in the corner and you sucked in a deep breath, eyes flitting here and there to analyze the room further.

The door soon opened and it revealed a woman, in her mid fourties and you blinked upon seeing her disheveled state. She was practically naked and slowly the realization began to sink in.

“Is this a brothel?”

The woman had the sweetest smile on her lips as she nodded, in her hand a jug you assumed filled with wine. In her other, a golden cup. A grimace made its way on your face, disgust evident but there was also unmatched anger. You were going to slaughter whoever that had brought you here.

Had they sold you?

Did Aemond do this? It would not make sense at all since you knew he would have abandoned you the moment you fell off your dragon. There was no way he would search for you but if it wasn't him then someone else had found you and put you here.

Your head felt like it could burst at any given moment and you realized how bad of a throbbing pain was in the side of your head. It ached and when you reached for it, you flinched.

“By what means am I here? I need to know who put me in such a horrible filthy place.”

You watched with a sharp eye as she poured the liquid into the cup, extending it out for you once finished. You blinked, shaking your head. “I demand answers, not wine.”

“I'm afraid I'm not allowed to answer those but he will be here soon.”

You snatched the cup of wine from her hand and tossed it across the room, watching as the glass made contact with the wall and collapsed in the corner. The woman’s grin grew wider as she realized you were no low born for sure. The amount of money she could make off you was unmatched but she knew better than to defy Aemond’s orders.

“You have the temperaments of a high born lady.” Sylvie said, head tilted as she admired the beauty you were blessed with. “No wonder I was told to take care of you.”

There was not a mark on your face, like you'd been blessed by the seven themselves. You were a piece of art and how she'd gotten you ready only made you appear like Venus, the goddess of love and sex, fertility even.

Sylvie left the room, to attend to her guests but not before warning you. “Do not leave this room, girl. There are wolves out there and they won't hesitate to rip you to shreds. You are safe here.”

You felt chills at her words, well aware of the atrocities men committed here with women.

You chewed on your lip, knees brought to your chest as you hugged them tightly while your arms wrapped around them. You wanted to cry, you missed your brothers and your mother. Being her only daughter, you knew her whole being resided within you and you wished to send a letter at least about your whereabouts.

She surely would come to save you.

Confused, scared and cornered, you stayed glued to your position.

Then the room door opened and a man entered. Your head lifted up from your knee pads and you backed into the wall seeing how drunk this man was. His wobbly walk told you he had more than enough to drink and now he was staggering towards you.

“I knew that bitch was hiding something here.” He said, a sick grin on his face and your eyes widened upon catching a glimpse of the man's hands that were extended to grab a hold of you. “Such a pretty girl like you should be downstairs, not here. But then it's good you're here. I get to have you all for myself.”

“Touch me and I will make you wish you were never born.” You spat, a venom in your tone as your posture shifted.

You were on guard and you had always trained under your step father, Daemon. You knew how to defend yourself, as well as take down a life if you had to. There was nothing in this world that you would not do to protect yourself and when the man's flimsy endeavor to grab you slipped, you rolled over the bed to reach for the cup of wine.

You swallowed.

You had trained but you never once had to fight someone to save your life, dignity and honor.

This was real, this was what you had trained for.

Adrenaline pumped through your blood, since the man was evidently twice your delicate size. You watched with a sharp gaze as he scoffed, reaching for you. Before his hands could come in contact with your exposed shoulders, you struck down the man's hand with the sharp edge of the wine glass.

He let out a scream, nearly succumbing to his knees. “You fucking bitch.”

You stared as blood soaked his clothes, the cut deep and brutal on his hand. This only encouraged his lust for you, an anger igniting in his eyes. He seemed pretty sober now as he got back up and slammed you against the wall with newfound force.

“Fucking whore. You don't have to act this hard to get. I swear I'll pay more than what the others do.” His words were like salt to the wound, as he held you over the wall. You had nothing on him now, as the man buried his face into your neck.

He sniffed, satisfied with the scent of the oils staining your skin. Before his lips could come in contact with your skin, the door slammed open and you saw Aemond.

The moment he laid his gaze on you, in such a horrible and disgusting situation, something inside him snapped. His jaw tightened and Aemond forgot that he was in a brothel and causing a scene could put you in danger.

You felt the force of the man disappear as Aemond pulled him off you, pinning him to the ground with his knee into his neck. You watched as your uncle delivered punch after punch, ruining the set of very basic features on his face.

“How dare you lay your filthy hands on her? On her, of all people?” His voice was loud as for each word, a taut punch was sent to the man's face.

Sylvie entered the room, in a panicked state, witnessing the disheveled state of both Aemond and you in front of him. She recognized the man as one of her clients and when Aemond caught her in his eye, he stood up and grabbed the woman by her throat, pressing her into the wall.

He leaned in, darkness imposing a threat. “I gave you one fucking job, and you failed.”

“I-I swear I don't know how he found her. My Prince believe me, I-I would never misplace something you told me to take care of.”

You watched the whole scene unfold, with blurring tears in your eyes, a soft sniffle escaping you. The man's touch was disgusting and it still lingered over your shoulders, the stains of blood tainting the purity of your skin. You could not believe what was going on, all you knew that Aemond was aware of your whereabouts which could only mean one thing; he himself put you here. Was this how low the Greens were willing to go, to win the war? By tainting the Queen’s reputation and putting you in a brothel for commoners to use and throw?

“Get out of my fucking sight and hand this fucking filth to my guards. I will see what it is to be done of him.” Aemond elucidated each word for the woman and she nodded, grabbing the man and dragging him out. “And bring me some water and a clean cloth.” His head turned in your direction, gaze locking with your blurred one.

You were still frozen in that position, not being able to move an inch. Your body had stilled from how sudden and scary everything was.

Aemond took a step towards now that you two were alone and you flinched. “Please don't.”

He stilled, staring at you. You were close to breaking apart, he could see it. Tears falling down in small streams, glistening over the golden glow of the candle casting on your face.

“I would never force myself upon you.” He said, almost offended that you would expect something like that from him in the first place. He was cold, stoic, he knew but did you really see him in such a horrible light? It bothered him when it should not have, it shouldn't matter what you have got to say or think about him.

“Did you throw me in here as revenge for your eye, Uncle?” You spoke, throat feeling like it was being prickled by needles because of how much you were holding yourself back from breaking into a fit of sobs and tears.

He raised a brow and then proceeded to scoff. “You really do see me as some tyrant.”

“You chased me on your dragon and made me fall, I could have died!” You shouted, taking a step forward. Your sadness had transformed into anger, and now your tears were flowing freely. A ton of emotions overwhelming your little frame and Aemond saw it.

The tick in his jaw grew, fists still clenched and blood dripping from them. “But you didn't. I found you and I brought you here to keep you safe—”

“Safe? Safe?! You brought me here, to this god forsaken place to keep me safe? Just say it, Uncle.” You fumed, stepping up to the man you once feared. “You wanted to humiliate me. You want me to get used, be some common man's whore.”

Aemond’s patience was running thin and when he imagined you as a whore, it ran out right before you. His feet moved with such ability as he marched in your direction, slamming you against the corner, palms glued to the wall. He breathed down your face, his sharp chin brushing against yours.

Your breath hitched, being this close to your Uncle was completely new and you were rendered speechless.

“The greens will hold you hostage.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “They will parade you around on a fucking horse for the whole of King's Landing to bear witness.”

You stared into his one eye, chest rising up and down as suddenly your body had forgotten how to lure in some air. “Could've taken me home.”

“They would take me hostage for the cause of your injured state.” He whispered, in a much softer tone. “There was nowhere for me to take you in your current state, only here.”

“A brothel, Uncle.” You said, tears once again threatening to spill and they did. Your soft sniffles echoing in the room, remembering what the man had done and how filthy his touch felt. You felt defiled and he hadn't even done something worse, something that could never be taken back. Your bloodied shoulders shook violently from how much you were crying, body going slump and Aemond quickly held you in his arms, not allowing you to succumb to the floor.

His strong arms held you — with overbearing strength, holding you whilst you cried.

In truth, you hated every bit of this war. Things were much better before the death of your grandsire, King Viserys. The crown made people greedy, the more they looked at it. It possessed the type of power which was too overwhelming for anyone and everyone. Like a curse, it slowly poisoned the mind of its bearer. The same was happening with the Greens as they had usurped your mother's throne.

“You should've left me to die.” You managed to say through your broken cries.

Aemond released a bated breath. “It was never my intention for something as grave as that to happen. It was merely an attempt to intimidate you.”

You understood him. Despite all this fucked up shit, you did. You had taken his eye out, left him disabled. His siblings had all their parts but Aemond felt empty, he felt incomplete and you had played a big part in it. Both of you had realized your mistakes a long time ago yet no one owned up to it, no one possessed the courage to reach out the other for closure.

You never apologized for the bullying encouraged by his brother, he never apologized for assaulting your brothers. You never apologized for taking his eye and he never apologized for attempting to intimidate you with his dragon — which made you suffer a great loss. Remotely close to his.

“Arrax,” you sobbed, in the arms of the man who was the cause of your state. “my poor dragon. He was so scared, I could feel it. He was afraid.”

Aemond wanted to apologize. He wanted to because he was aware of a rider’s bond with its dragon. Yet no words left his mouth, his palm running up and down your back rather awkwardly. He had absolutely no idea on what to do with you now. Your forehead was pressed into his chest as you sobbed.

But then you looked up at him, with a piercing gaze. “You are as childish and as pathetic the day I took your fucking eye out, Aemond.” This time you did not address him as your uncle and your words riled him up even more. You were at his mercy, you should not have played with fire like that and Aemond snapped.

“I'm pathetic?” He asked with darkness behind his tone. “You're the one pinned neath me. I could easily have you, take my revenge.”

“You're going to take my eye out, Uncle? Do it. Finish it, once and for all.” You seethed through gritted teeth, glaring at him. Aemond tightened his hold on your frail wrists causing you to wince and flinch. He restrained both hands with one of his and moved the other to grasp your chin, fingers dimpling in your cheeks. “No, I will take something more precious, something that is worth more than an eye to a maiden such as yourself.”

“You wouldn't.” You said, shaking your head after realizing what he was hinting at. You knew the significance of your maidenhood and Aemond was going to hurt you right where it hurt the most. “I am your niece, you would not.”

“Did your mother not marry her uncle, Gevives?” (Beauty)

You flinched at the way his voice dropped when he spoke high valyrian. The situation you were in didn't help either, with Aemond’s whole body weight on top of you but enough to not crush you. The room elevated with tension as you opened your mouth to protest but a knock on the door interrupted you both.

“Come in.”

The door parted, revealing Sylvie along with a cloth in her hand and a bucket of clean water.

“Leave it on the table.” Aemond commanded, not paying her any mind and the woman obliged before leaving the room.

Your uncle reached for the cloth, soaking it into the water. You struggled, squirming in his tenacious grip and all Aemond did was keep his eye on you while he soaked the fabric fully into the water. Once it was soaked enough, he pulled it out and leaned down, face only a few inches apart from yours. Your breath got stuck in your throat.

He swiped the cloth over the blood stains on your collarbones, gently and carefully. The action itself caused arousal to pool in your cunt, your thighs squeezing together and Aemond felt it. He let out a breath, sending it to tingle your skin and you gasped out at how close he was to you.

“The idea of someone else's blood on you vexes me.” Aemond confessed, moving the fabric down to the cups of your small shoulders. He swiped it across the skin, watching as your skin became free from the taints of filth.

You licked your lips, breath ragged. “You have gone insane, Uncle.”

“I have, maybe I truly have.” Aemond’s eye was focused on the sharp bone embedded in your skin, known as your collarbone. His desires were taking the best of him and he hated himself for it. You were his niece, the same little girl who took his fucking eye out and is now his enemy — the same girl who would betray him in a heartbeat for her mother.

Abandon him for her pretender of a mother.

Yet the man did not care enough to stop whatever he was doing.

“How will you take something more precious when it is painfully obvious who is the more experienced brother, according to the rumors of the Keep.” You hissed and Aemond inhaled, a serpent you'd become in such a short span. Aemond stopped cleaning your skin, since he was finished and tossed the fabric aside.

His fingers clamped around your chin. “Keep your mouth fucking shut. You are only tempting me, niece.”

It was obviously a warning but you could not back out, not when you had held hostility all your life towards him. “For all I know, I am not even of your nature. I have heard you like them older, my Prince.” A mischievous smirk ceased your features. It was all a facade to come off strong. “Like her. Is she the one you visit in brothels? You know her too well.”

“Shut your fucking mouth before I shove my cock in it. Would you like that, hm? You're probably a pathetic little slut exactly like your mother.” Aemond threatened, suppressing the urge to strike his hand over your cheek. His grip on your chin tightened, his fingers craning your face up as his breath mingled with yours.

“How sad that the one who is putting all his effort in winning the war was never bound to get the throne nor become the object of his mother's affections.” You taunted and that hit Aemond where you wanted it to hit. “How does it feel, Uncle? To not receive an ounce of love from both your father and mother.”

“At least I am not a bastard.” He spat, and you knew that was coming. It was their one valid argument after all. “I might be a bastard but both my mother and father cherish me, love me, for who I was, for what I am. You are a sad, pathetic case.”

Aemond’s hand moved to your hair, grabbing a fistful of it and pulling you over to the bed to toss you on it like some ragdoll. You gasped when your frail body collided against the bed, feeling it bounce a little. Your brows furrowed as you turned around to face him but Aemond was already standing before you, his knee dipping into the bed.

“Let’s see if that mouth of yours can still produce coherent words when I am fucking your sweet cunt.” Breath uneven and lips shuddering, you stared at him as he pushed aside the curtains of the bed and maneuvered inside, crawling on top of you.

You tried to run, a feeble and failed attempt at escaping from the dragon you had awakened. Aemond locked you in place by one hand around your leg, pinning you down against the bed. His harsh actions made you miss the man in who's arms you had cried and how gently he held you, like you were a lover and not the one he despised the most.

“Even though you never apologized, I forgive you.” He whispered, reaching for his eye and removing the patch to reveal the familiar sapphire again. A reminder of the events that took place between you two.

You felt horrible, guilt overpowering and over consuming. “You threatened me with a stone. I was only protecting myself and my brother.”

“You humiliated me, at every chance you and that bastard brother of yours got. Were the indignities caused by my brother not enough that you two had to join in?” His tone was almost sad and you realized how awfully you had been to him, all for the sake of momentarily fun. The picture from his side was painted cruelly and your lips shivered.

Was apologizing going to be enough?

Is it going to be enough when your uncle was on top of you, about to commit the most vilest of crime.

“I'm sorry.” Came a wholehearted whisper from you, a sad expression adorning your face. “It is not enough to bring your eye back or take back everything and you do not have—”

“I told you, I forgive you.” He said, his hand cupping your shoulder, fingers tugging underneath the sleeve hanging around your arm. “But you must be punished. You must face the consequences of your own actions.”

“Uncle, we were children.” You attempted to justify but that was like sprinkle of fuel to the fire.

Aemond pulled your sleeve, causing it to rip and your eyes widened in horror. His other hand ripped the other sleeve as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your lips. You were not only terrified but weirdly aroused too. Your uncle's anger was obvious but the subtle change between his rough tugs and gentle kisses left you light headed as well as overwhelmed. You breathed in, and then released it, in hopes that he would calm down but Aemond was too far gone.

“Uncle, stop it.” He tried to push at his chest.

Aemond grabbed your wrists, locking them over his chest. “I will only stop once I put a silver haired bastard inside you.”

“Fucking me in a whorehouse, putting a bastard in me. You have truly planned this out, no?” You said, putting up a strong facade but deep down you were scared. You did not wish to give birth to a bastard, knowing you yourself were one. Born out of wedlock to your mother and her guard, sir Harwin strong.

You knew how badly were they treated and the thought of giving birth to one pained you.

“Would you be so cruel to put a babe in me and then abandon it?” You asked — staring up at him with glossy eyes. You writhed in his hold but to no avail as his one hand clamped over your wrist while the other moved to tug at your neckline, causing your breasts to spill out.

Aemond hissed. He'd realized you had grown now and you were not the same little girl who helped his brother make his life a living hell. Your nipples rosy and hardened and he sighed, fondling the plush fat. “The image of you walking around dragonstone with my silver haired bastard tugging at the skirt of your dress, demanding attention. A reminder of what his father did to you swells my cock.”

“Get off me. You're fucking mad if you think I would carry your children.” Your endeavors to fight him were a lost cause, trying to land punches at his chest but they were gone in vain. Aemond had control, he had power over you by being stronger, more muscular. “I will drink moon tea. You cannot force me to have your child."

“Then I must keep you here and breed you every single night until you are swollen with my babe.”

He got off you and flipped you on your stomach, hands covetously ripping apart the expensive chiffon dress, revealing your bare back. Your small shoulders trembling and chills dancing down the small of your back when the cold air brushed against your skin.

“Stop it.” It came out muffled as Aemond buried your face into the mattress.

Not only had he intended to fuck you, he was going to do it like you were some common whore. Either taking you on your back or on your stomach. You bit back a soft cry as his fingertips danced across your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Tears glossed your vision and you let out a tentative whimper when his hand groped a handful of your plush ass.

“It is time to pay the consequences of your actions, Bastard.” Aemond’s words were hoarse making you flinch.

He had locked you in place with his own body and soon enough he also stripped himself off his attire. You could not see, but you could hear the metallic jingling of his sword and dagger against one another, his belt and briefs shuffling together. Aemond’s hand flew back to grip your nape, forcing your face deeper into the pillow.

Your body was not fully bare as his, some aspects still covered by the tethered pieces of fabric.

Aemond reached over and hoisted you up into his arms, pushing your body on your palms and knees. Despite your struggle and continuous objection, he still managed to put you in the most degrading position ever. You were like a fucking animal — ass pushed out for him and the tears finally fell. His fingers dug into the side of your hips, holding you in place.

“I hate you, I fucking hate you.”

Your constant expressions of your loathsome did not bother Aemond in the slightest. Your mouth did not matter to him, it was your cunt that did. He didn't even mind to prepare you, all he did was align his hardened leaking tip at your soaked hole and pushed. Loud grunts and high pitched whimpers tore through you both as you felt him breach your maidenhead and defile you with determination. Bittersweet pain had blossomed in between your thighs, your cunt a bleeding mess but Aemond continued, pushing his cock furthermore until he was fully sheathed inside your walls.

“The cunt of a bastard is surely more pleasurable than a whore's. I shouldn't let you go to dragonstone, I should make you my personal little whore. For me to use and breed.”

Your cries of pain and broken sobs did not falter him as he relished them — enjoying the way your hiccups sounded. Frail and light, allowing him to have the pleasure of revenge he was denied off all his life. But not anymore, as he had you right where he wanted. This humiliation was much better than taking your eye out.

“A-Aemond,” you sobbed mindlessly, trying to wriggle out of his grasp which lead it to grow firmer. “hurts, please it hurts. Be gentle, please for the Gods.”

You knew that begging him to stop was futile but maybe if you begged enough for him to be gentle, he would be kind enough to not ravage you like some beast. Your broken little sobs worked in your favor as Aemond allowed you a few moments to adjust to the sheer size of his manhood, as he had forgiven you after all.

He did not loathe you.

He only wished for consequences, for revenge.

This was it.

Aemond lowered his face next to your ears, taut chest pressed over your sweaty spine as he whispered in your ear. “If I don't take you now, I would continue to harbor ill intentions for you. This is for the best.”

It was all a lie, a way to manipulate you.

You nodded, finally succumbing and Aemond felt a strong overwhelming sense of victory wash over him.

He slowly pulled out of you before drilling back inside you, repeatedly and over the course of him pummeling his cock inside you, you became a writhing, blubbering mess. It was too much for your little body as Aemond continuously fucked his cock into you. Built like him it was. Long, slender and you'd assumed it was as beautiful as him too.

Your hands were let go from their tight hold and you found them buried into the soft sheets, fingers intertwined with the pale pillows and sheets. Each thrust sent your body forwards and you whined, feeling his cock head bruise your cervix, aiming upwards for that perfect spot of yours.

“Oh!” Your eyes rolled back to your skull at one particular thrust, feeling him hit an area unexplored.

Aemond’s brows creased together, realizing he had finally found the sweet spot he was hunting for. His movement grew relentless, in fast, deep drills he abused that sensitive area as he watched you ascend deeper into the stairs to heaven. Your knuckles had gone white from the strong hold and your knees shivered from Aemond’s force.

“If you'd given yourself up to me like this, I would not have had to hunt you to satisfy my thirst for revenge.” Aemond panted, his words accompanied by loud striking sounds of skin meeting skin. “You should have visited my chambers when you took my fucking eye out. Should have stripped naked, spread your legs for me to take your sweet cunt.”

“Please, stop,” came a broken murmur from you, wishing to forget about that god forsaken night. “d–didn't want to do it, didn't want to hurt you. I was scared, was terrified of Vhagar.”

“But you did. You took out my eye, left me hideous.” Aemond had always felt monstrous, empty and incomplete. These feelings were all gifted by you and now he wanted you to feel the same.

Left incomplete, defiled and empty.

Aemond’s hand moved down to grab a fistful of your hair from the roots, pulling up until you two were one body. His chest over your spine, as he fucked himself into you, deep and vigorous strokes. Tears streamed in tiny rivulets down your face, as Aemond circled another arm around your breasts, holding you in place to fuck you like you were some doll made for his sickly pleasures.

You made the grave mistake of moving your head and found him already staring at you. Lips parted, letting out breathless little pants and the sapphire danced in his empty socket, a reminder of your actions. He saw you, close and noticed all the features littered across your face. The freckles over your nose, the dark strands clinging to your perspired forehead and the way your nose scrunched up whenever he thrusted inside you. Gods, you were a heavenly sight, one that only he was fortunate enough to witness.

Aemond fought back the urge to claim your lips in a kiss — that action too intimate, than using your cunt to satisfy his hunger.

But eventually caved in as he took your lips into an aggressive lock, a firm kiss it was. He bite and licked at your lips, shoving a wet tongue past the pair and slithering inside like a snake. You whined, hoping that he would slow down but Aemond devoured you like a starved mad man. Teeth clashing with teeth, tongue battling with tongue, he swallowed all the little sounds you produced. His gruesome kiss had left you lightheaded when he pulled back to look at you.

In a daze you appeared.

Aemond stared at your swollen lips while you gazed upon his lips, dumbfounded and taken aback by his sudden desire to kiss you like a beast.

“I-I don't find you hideous.” It was a whimper but it caused his thrusts to stall, coming to a halt. He stared at you, surprised by your words and his stomach burned in anticipation knowing well enough you would say something worse.

But what you said next left him astonished and with a newly ignited desire. “I think you're.. pretty, prettier than Aegon.”

You couldn't compare him to your brothers as the famous targaryen features were not shared amongst them but Aegon had the same features as Aemond yet you have always found him the most prettiest Targaryen man ever. He was slim, but not in a bad way — he had the right amount of muscles and perfect height. Aemond possessed the type of beauty which did not decrease by losing an eye.

“A lie.” He growled, shaking his head.

You looked at him with the most innocent doe eyes. “I mean it. Losing an eye did not make you hideous, Aemond. You are still as beautiful as ever.”

He didn't respond and his impassive face told you that he was not phased by your genuine words but Aemond felt fucking butterflies nip at his stomach. His cock hardened even more if that were possible and he dropped you on the bed, continuing his assault. His hips snapped deliberately inside you, with newfound vigor and strength. You gasped out, your gummy walls tightening around his length as he drilled his cock inside you.

The compliment, the validation he'd received from you and how genuine it was — it drove him mad. Even his own mother failed to comfort him but you, the fucking preparator out of all people managed to. It angered him but also soothed over the burn you'd left.

Aemond felt his peak near, dancing around him and soon he reached it — his hips stuttering and his hot seed spurting inside you in ropes. “Fuck, fuck. I should fill you up and leave you here. A fucking whore with a Targaryen bastard.” You felt him taint your insides, leaving a mark that would always linger like how you'd left a scar on his face. Feeling his seed fill you up, you also unravelled as Aemond fucked the hot fluid into your womb, making sure you end up with a babe of his own.

Your eyes saw white and your thighs twitched, knees giving out and body finally colliding into the sheets. Yet Aemond continued thrusting, the wet squelching sound of your peak mixed with his grossing you out. Your tears had dried so more were released, going the same route as the ones from before.

You couldn't even resist anymore, nor rebel.

Aemond pulled his softened cock out of you and watched as your destroyed, gaping hole threw up his spent. It was hot and he shuddered at the thought of you swollen with his child.

He should've hated the idea of your breasts leaking with milk for his babe, swollen and peaked but instead he found himself aching to witness it in real life, not some fucked up imagination. He couldn't take you, as badly as he wished to. You were not his to keep but he was letting you go with a piece of him inside your womb.

He laid with you, but you'd not expected him to lay an arm over your small waist. Your body spent and completely frail from his monstrosity but Aemond wished for more, he craved more yet he gave you time to rejuvenate and collect yourself.

“Did you mean it?”

You raised your gaze at him, bemused.

“A-About me, being pretty. Did you mean it or was that also to deceive me?” He asked, failing to make eye contact. He stared ahead at the ceiling and you nodded your head slowly, throat parched. “I did. I would not lie about that.”

His chest swell up with an unfathomable feeling, something beyond his own understanding as he pulled you closer to him, subconsciously. Aemond was in a dilemma, confused about what had to be done. He wanted to be more cruel, more horrible but it was not in him to show you more cruelty than you deserved.

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drewsbraziliangf · 15 days ago

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nothing to say when heaven falls | Drew Starkey x black!reader

summary: what can you do when the person that’s supposed to understand and be on your side chooses to doubt your fears?

Word count: 1388

a/n: not edited, we die like soldiers!!!!! pls let me know if you wish to be added to my taglist

"How can't you see how disrespectful this is to me, Drew?" You ask with a strained voice and teary eyes. "Everywhere you go she's looming like a shadow."

"She's my friend, what do you want me to do?" Exasperated, he asks.

"I don't know. Maybe tell her that your fiancé doesn't feel comfortable with her following you around, traveling abroad to see you or fuck, being all fucking touchy and handsy with you in public."

My throat was burning as the words slipped my mouth but I simply couldn't avoid it any longer. I am so tired of this whole situation and it has been going on for far too long. I just can't hold it back anymore.

"Can't exactly tell her what to do," he rolled his eyes this time.

"Really? Am I really asking for that much?" I look at the man in front of me with disbelief, "I just want to feel like I'm not invisible in my own goddamn relationship. She sees you more than I do and I am the one with a ring on my finger. How is this fair?"

"Babe, listen, there's nothing going on between me and her. You have to believe me," he pleads as he runs his hands through his hair.

"You don't think I'm trying to believe you? I'm in the trenches everyday telling myself this over and over again, but how can I turn a blind eye to it when the first thing I see whenever I'm online is that you're both coincidently in the same city. For the millionth time."

I know that pulling this out in the open this way isn't the best option. But how could I keep bottling all of this up when it's causing such a heavy pain in my chest every time I see their names together?

It was always clear the perks of dating a public figure and I never backed out on it. Now seeing the man who asked me to spend the rest of my life with him and have his babies walking around with the woman everyone swears he was romantically involved with is messed up.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he admits as he walks away from me.

That felt like a punch. Because how could I make it anymore obvious? Do I have to draw it to a thirty year old why he should respect the woman he chose to propose to?

“Are you for real right now?” I asked as I follow him into the kitchen of our shared apartment. “Did you really just said that to me, Joseph?”

At this point it felt like there was no going back anymore, either this was going to be totally fixed here or it wouldn’t at all. The bandaid was ripped and the wound was open and burning.

“How can you be so dull? You really can’t see what the problem here is?”

I watch as he fills a glass with water and turns his back to me. He did it twice already. The off white walls of the kitchen lacked the warm they always brought when we were in it together. It felt claustrophobic and like the roof was going to fall over our heads at any given minute.

“You’re acting like I’m cheating on you. Like this is some major fuck up. It isn’t, you’re turning it into something it isn’t.” His tone was cold but looking at his posture it was clear that he was trying to maintain his calm.

The condescending tone in his voice made me want to shrink into myself and hide away from the world.

“Oh, right. Yeah, blame it on me for thinking that my fiancé going out of his way to be with his ex fuck buddy isn’t normal.”

“Careful,” he warns once finally looks at me.

“Or what, Drew? What else could you possibly do that will make me feel worse than I already do?” I challenge, my gaze locked on him as I wait.

After a few minutes of us staring down at each other, he shakes his head and sighs.

“I’m not doing whatever this is. I’m done entertaining this,” he declares and he leans against the countertop.

Drew and I met around two years ago through a mutual friend. We instantly hit off and after a few dates, he officially asked me to be his girlfriend - which I obviously accepted. We had this instant connection that isn’t common. At first I was terrified of it, I knew who he was and the fact that his life was always being scrutinized by thousands of people. I knew what people said online about him and as we got closer and closer I couldn’t help but lose myself in the speculations about him even more.

Our relationship was great and we always made sure that each others boundaries were respected, so color me stoked to be in this situation right now. I am not dumb and every single day there is a needle pinching me making me think of stuff and situations like the one we find ourselves right now just indulge those thoughts.

In the early days of our relationship we made sure there were no secrets between us and past relationships. I knew I was his first black girlfriend, I knew he was born and raised in the South too. So joining that and the fact that I am an immigrant did make me scared of a lot of things, the main of them being the fact that it isn’t uncommon at all for men to always find their way back to that they are used to.

So seeing her upon him all the time while people online barely know about our relationship feels like hell. Because even though I’m in family pictures that his sisters post online, and the very visible ring on my finger I am never considered the option of being his significant other. She is. Every single time. And he never did anything about it - hell, he never even set boundaries with her and she knows that we’re together. Am I really reading too much into things?

Being three months away from our wedding day, this isn’t the kind of thought or conversations I would like to be having. I should be fucking excited and dress hunting, but lately the only thing that I feel like doing is swallowing lumps and holding back tears, faking smiles and pretending I’m fine. I’m not, I’m fucking falling apart and I’m so tired of begging to be seen.

“I don’t know how else to tell you that I am not comfortable with this and that you shouldn’t be either,” I point out as the first tear cross the edges of my cheeks. “I don’t know how else to ask you to respect our relationship.”

“I respect our relationship, I always did. I just don’t think that what you’re saying right now makes any sense. Whatever I had with her in the past is over.” He says as he runs one of his hands through his face.

“Drew, honey, you’re not seeing things from my point of view. Imagine if it was me catching planes every other day to be with someone that I was involved in with in the past. And all of our friends know that you and I are together. How would that make you feel?”

At that he says nothing but silence can mean many things, and in this case it means consent.

Tired of this back in forth conversation, I reach for my phone that was besides his on the counter and as if the timing couldn’t be more right, the screen of his phone lights up with an incoming call. No surprise flashes through my features as I see the picture on the caller id, both of them in a mirror picture as they brush their teeth.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I confess watching as he reaches for his phone quickly declining the call. “Not when you’re up to your eyeballs into whatever this is. I’ll make the calls tomorrow and cancel the dates with the venue.”

I grab my phone and my purse and I walk towards the front door before he can say anything else, I’m closing it behind me.

#drew starkey #drew starkey x black reader #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #obx #rafe smut #rafe x you #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #x black reader #x black fem reader #obx fanfiction #obx s4

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sungchanarcade · 1 month ago

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aftercare w/ riize

this is my first post yayyy!! i'm marina and welcome to my blog! i'm happy ur here :)

shotaro

he would help with cleaning up, but only like… the bare minimum😭

if he was rough with you then he wouldn’t let you get out of bed and instead he’d bring back a towel and some water so you don’t have to move

whether it was intense or not though, he would always be so gentle when cleaning you up. has at least 12 different ways to ask “are you okay?” and you bet he uses all of them every time. he hates the idea of accidentally hurting you without realizing so he always checks in with you

speaking of checking in, he’s definitely asking for feedback after😭 but it’s always in the form of teasing. “you sounded so pretty screaming my name, do i really make you feel that good?” (he also asks questions just to fuel his ego)

has a thing for kissing your shoulder once he’s done and he needs to kiss your bare skin before getting you a clean shirt (that definitely belongs to him) or he’ll get pouty—once, you’d gotten dressed before he could get his kiss and he made you take off your shirt again😐

but despite all his sweetness, that is the extent of his cleanup. would rather die than change the sheets. if they’re actually unusable, he’s taking them off, covering his mattress with a blanket, and leaving everything else to deal with when you two wake up

euseok

SUCH a gentleman oh my god, he’d be a dream

probably rougher during sex but the second you’re finished it’s like a switch flips, suddenly he exists only to care for you and is prepared to travel to the ends of the earth to make you as comfortable as possible

if you shower, you won’t have to lift a finger, he’ll wash your hair for you and massage your shoulders. if you don’t, he’ll clean you up with a towel and rub lotion into your skin (it’s calming enough to send you to sleep more than once)

he feels like he can’t rest until he knows you’re feeling good, even if that means fighting his own tiredness to do so, which is both a blessing and a curse because he never lets you give him the same treatment unless you like… fight him over it (you’ve only won 2 times, once after he’d come back from traveling for two weeks so he was clingy and tired, and again on his birthday)

but he’s similar to shotaro in the sense that he is so so gentle when he touches you. i think he’d love to just constantly let his hands wander, fingertips brushing over your bare skin like he’s saying “i love you” with his hands

sungchan

this mf is passed the fuck out as soon as you’re done 😭

but i think it mostly comes from the fact that he tends to accidentally overexert himself during sex without realizing. poor baby doesn’t realize his stamina isn’t as high as he thinks it is

he likes making you cum at least twice every time, even if it means denying his own release until you’ve already finished, so he unintentionally overstimulates himself every time

crying in bed is probably common with him tbh (the thought of him feeling so good he’s literally in tears actually drives me insane)

cums so much. like so much. orgasm denial + massive cock (we all know it) = so so messy. cleaning up would probably be a nightmare, especially since he’ll be too fucked out to move, much less help, so sometimes you make him wear a condom for the sole reason that you don’t feel like putting yourself through cleaning him up by yourself

on the rare occasions when he doesn’t immediately fall asleep he would still be super tired after. the two of you would take a shower together and you’d have to wash his hair for him while he just holds you in his arms and tries not to fall asleep on your shoulder. he’d also be really clingy, but that’s a thought for another day

wonbin

pillow princess will be a pillow princess… this man is NOT moving

he would also want you to be the one to clean him off (princess treatment) but he won’t fall asleep. he likes to watch you and he always has so much love in his eyes that it almost makes it worth it to be in charge of cleaning up by yourself (almost)

but if you have to change the sheets after—he definitely loves messy sex—he will help you with that, you just have to give him at least 15 minutes before he even considers getting out of bed

he wouldn’t be exhausted after like sungchan, i think he’d recover after a bit of a break and then have enough energy to strip the sheets and start laundry, sometimes even make a snack or meal for the two of you, he just needs some time to regain energy

sometimes he’d cook something or take a bath together, but his favorite thing to do is always just getting back in bed and cuddling. the conversations y’all would have during late hours… he always makes sure you feel safe with him and is a very attentive listener, no matter how unimportant the topic of conversation might seem

seunghan

likes to care for you, but wants to be done as soon as possible

he falls somewhere between shotaro and eunseok when it comes to how much effort he’s putting in. he loves making you happy—he loves loving you—but he’s going to do just the necessary steps because he wants to lay back down with you as quickly as he can

another big post-sex cuddler, it’s necessary to him. he’s a very touchy person all the time, he’s always got an arm around you or hugging you from behind, and that energy amplifies whenever you two are alone so he can’t keep his hands off you for too long

totally gets distracted at least 4 times because “just one kiss” always leads to ending up back in bed tangled up in each other until you remind him that you still need to change the sheets. without that reminder he for sure would forget entirely and probably fall asleep

sohee

to him, aftercare is a two person event. but he sees it as less of a task to be completed and more as an extension of sex, like it’s a part of the whole experience for him

he gets very giggly, a lot of big smiles and cheek kisses. he loves washing your hair for you and gets so so happy when you return the favor.

after your shower you always do each other’s skincare and it takes twice as long because he keeps stopping to kiss you (“your chapstick tastes better than mine”)he sees aftercare as something just as intimate as sex, just in a different atmosphere, so all his tender touches and soft words are just as special and give just as much effort (and boy does he deliver every. time.)

anton

another one who will take on all the work so you won’t have to move. any complaints will be silenced with a kiss (but just as you start getting into it he breaks away with a cheeky smile)

he really likes holding you

he’ll hug you into his chest while you wait for the shower to warm up

he’ll stand behind you and wrap his arms around your waist to rest his chin on your shoulder while watching you comb your hair

once you’re both back in bed best believe he is not letting you out of his arms and will start whining if you even try pulling away

i feel like he’d mess up your hair (just a little) when you’re in the middle of combing it out just to get a reaction out of you, but every time he’ll just cup your face and his smile is SO big and then it’s impossible to be mad anymore

#riize headcanons #riize smut #shotaro smut #eunseok smut #sungchan smut #wonbin smut #seunghan smut #sohee smut #anton smut

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saetoru · 1 year ago

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good.

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left.

and then satoru wins.

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead.

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure.

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware.

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place.

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it.

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free.

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair.

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared.

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on.

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close.

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper.

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?”

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for.

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore.

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down.

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were.

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself.

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever.

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why.

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought.

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare.

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature.

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again.

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face.

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high.

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath.

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause.

and then you remember.

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru.

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have.

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again.

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh.

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself.

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close.

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness.

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night.

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans.

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest.

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room.

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry.

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly.

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not.

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen.

you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast.

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between.

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace.

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile.

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart.

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name.

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles.

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away.

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment.

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years.

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do.

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you.

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru.

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had.

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him.

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind.

his breath hitches.

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror.

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms.

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened.

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him.

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance.

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to.

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention.

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence.

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them.

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them.

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

————————————————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to.

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down.

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it.

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself.

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life.

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in.

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you.

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin.

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for.

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you?

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it.

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life?

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him.

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal.

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score.

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous.

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort.

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good.

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off.

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think.

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles.

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it.

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug.

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed.

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place.

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look.

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch.

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes.

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this.

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room.

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook.

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again.

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind.

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks.

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left.

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good.

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence.

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away.

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow.

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation.

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too.

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes.

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too.

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?”

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever.

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive.

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy.

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru.

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little.

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled.

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises.

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough.

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink.

finally, for once, you’re enough.

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering.

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much.

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum.

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

#teepods.writings #fics.#geto x reader #geto x you #geto fluff #geto angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk angst #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru angst #geto suguru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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coffee-blvck · 3 months ago

Text

Soap pops an unexpected question 💍

Originally posted on my AO3 - coffeeblvck

“Marry me.” Nearly drowned out by gunfire, it takes a few moments for the words to settle in your ears. Half pleading, half a grunt, as Soap throws his back against the concrete barrier. Bullets rain above your heads.

When your thoughts finally catch up with one another, you're left staring at your partner. You must look like a deer in headlights, blinking as if trying to convince yourself you had actually heard him. “What??”

“Marry me. Right here, right now.” He breathes, twisting up and firing twice. You continue to stare dumbly. This had to be a joke. You're in the middle of battle right now, fighting for your lives. But his tongue is dripping with fierce honesty and you can't come up with any other reason. “Serious, Major. Marry me.”

Your body reacts before you can form a response, gripping fiercely at his collar and pulling him to you. Gunfire still peppers the air around you as you kiss him. It's hasty and you both jerk a little, pulsing with adrenaline and flinching against the onslaught of gunfire.

It's your turn to twist about, firing down a few loose ends breaking from their lines of defense, and as you turn back Soap is mirroring your elated grin. Checking your magazine, you shrug. “Okay.”

Neither of you bring it up again. When you're the last to make it back to the safe house, Ghost is the first to grill you and Soap on your recklessness, and for not responding to the comms after the fact. Price was at the ready, with Gaz at his side to lead a squadron to track you down. When Soap merely ducks his head and takes the scolding without argument, the team starts to question what really happened out on the field. Your sheepish grin doesn't help the matter as you depart to clean yourself up.

That night, draped together and still high with adrenaline, it comes up. “I was serious ya know,” He whispers against your neck, peppering the soft skin with his lips and hoping, praying, you were as serious as he was. He takes your fingers curling through his as a good sign.

You're so pretty, Soap thinks, bathed in the moonlight and wrapped against him. He wants to die this way. He could die a happy man even if this was his last memory.

“I was too.”

A beat of silence. Soap hoists himself onto an elbow, gazing down at you to be able to see your full face. To memorize the way your eyes glittered in the pale light, the smile that forced the dimples and lines into your cheeks. It was a little crooked, your smile, but he could swear he’d never seen any art as perfect.

“Say it again.”

“I'm serious, Johnny. I’ll marry you.” You kiss him, soft and quick and he can't help but pout as you pull away, falling back into the mattress.

“I love you.” He breathes. This was heaven, and he was the luckiest man on earth at this moment.

“You're dumb.” You laugh, pulling gently at his neck for another kiss. “I love you too, pretty boy.”

Price is the first to notice the pretty little gem on your finger and how his usually level headed medic can’t stop staring at it during that morning's debriefings. It had been a few weeks since the operation and the question, a long overdue moment of quiet for the entire Task Force. No one had really paid any mind to the way Soap kept his chest puffed when you were in the same room together.

“Is that what happened, Major?”

“Is what what happened?” You ask dumbly, attention pulled away from the little gem.

“That,” Price gestures with his cigar. “It's new.”

“I'm married.” You blurt out, a shy grin creeping across your features. You couldn't hide your excitement anymore. It hadn't been a secret, but neither you nor Soap had gone out of your way to spill the news either. Now with the ring around your finger, Soap had given it to you one early morning over coffee before training, you found your new reality hammering inside your chest, begging to be flaunted to someone, anyone who would listen.

“Come again?” Price was sure he had heard you correctly, but couldn't help but ask for you to repeat yourself. The task force was his family, and his heart swelled with pride that a piece of his family had found their happiness.

The grin on you only grows. “I'm married, Captain.”

“When…?”

“Johnny asked while we were clearing loose ends, before we made it back to the safe house. It was so fucking stupid. How could I say no?”

#cod #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #cod modern warfare #john price #captain price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #fluff #reader insert

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shadesoflsk · 9 months ago

Text

YOUR? OUR MARGARET

PAIRING: Leon Kennedy x Single mom!reader

SUMMARY: Life slowed down when Leon first saw those tiny rays of sunlight. But he didn't think he would fall in love with the whole sun. Or: Leon falls in love with a single mother.

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of alcohol, government, leon's traumas, love confessions, Leon is a bit insecure and awkward but he's also a sweetheart and has a soft spot for kids, cheesy and corny type of love, this is just fluff believe me!

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If I had a nickel for every time I've written about Leon's transition from vendetta to death island I would have two which it isn't a lot but it's funny it happened twice. If you wish to know what song Leon played this is the one I had in mind. As always, I hope you like it. This is my Valentine's Day fic for today!

MY MASTERLIST

Gruesome scenarios and depressive states of mind have tainted Leon's path in life. However, the grizzled and gloomy agent has had a rather rough patch this last year in which he was left alone to die in his own sorrow—Raccoon City, Spain, China and his already-known addiction took a toll on him.

He doesn't have anyone to blame, nor does he want to. Yeah, he could blame the government for stripping him of his innocence and his genuine wish to help people but he felt like he had failed his nation, not the DSO, not the FBI, just him.

Behind closed doors, in the white house and for everyone else he's Agent Leon Kennedy, Mr. Kennedy, and if someone were to ask the president he'd say he's the most trusted weapon the country has.

He has grown accustomed. His shield has hardened to the point he's numb to most things he should find disturbing or annoying yet he couldn’t help but wish someone would see him the way he really is.

A bittersweet feeling grew in Leon’s system. Alcohol no longer brought the same dull sensation that’d put him to sleep even in the loudest and sleazy bar. So, slowly he grew out of his addiction. Not alone, though. Alongside him were a couple of therapists which he reluctantly confided in. Not because he didn’t believe in mental health, but because he thought it wasn’t for him.

Also, his friends made his life a bit better. Spare the man the embarrassment, but friendship does indeed make you see the world more colorfully. It was nice hearing his name slip out of his friends' lips. Leon, Leon! Aww, Leon.

However, life didn’t prepare him for the moment his name was replaced by a:

Dada.

Therapists had told him he should look for a hobby, something that’d fill those moments where boredom or monotony would push him to fall back into his deadly addictions. And he completely understood, he ought to follow the experts’ advice in order to actually improve.

It was rather easier, he was not a complicated man.

Even before the Raccoon City incident, he loved exercising. Whether it was lifting weights, cycling, or plain running he’d always be found doing something. The mere thought of just lying in bed was something he’d never engage in, especially not now that he’s getting better.

So, he combined two things. One he was familiar with and a second one he hasn’t been able to really connect with: nature.

Near his current apartment, there was a small park in which he goes jogging. Usually, his schedule would only allow him to go there in the early hours of the morning where the only people he’d find were retired grandparents who danced to some Spanish music he couldn’t understand.

Peaceful, he liked it.

But when he was getting used to his daily morning jogging, a call from work told him they needed him ASAP. So, his little detoxicating activity would be postponed to the afternoon.

After dealing with the usual stress from work, calls from Hunnigan, and a rather bothersome headache, he got to his apartment and decided to get ready and not skip his so-needed jogging.

The afternoon sky was painted with a hue of blue mixing with the slightest orange color, the gentle breeze hitting Leon’s face as he jogged around the park. His tempo never missed a beat not even after an hour or so between his physical training and some pauses. Sweat fell from his forehead and onto the ground with each step he took, meaning that he was reaching exhaustion.

At last, he found solace under a tree that cast a shadow, perfect for Leon to catch his breath. Closing his eyes, he let his lungs inhale as much air as they could.

His peaceful moment was broken when a tiny voice called out for him. Or rather, mistaken him for someone else.

“Dada!” A little girl came walking to where he was seated, wobbly steps trying to reach him.

“Margaret!” You appeared out of nowhere before the toddler could reach and hug the stranger. The giggling and excited kid seemed to have heard “run faster” by the way she didn’t stop at your call.

A hint of confusion washed over Leon as he watched the scene develop with rather curious eyes. A mop of curly hair running away from your grasp. The white dress turned into a slightly brown color, Leon guessed the child must have been playing in the dirt.

And then a glimpse of a faint smile replaced his previous bewilderment as his eyes fell on you. As you tried catching your daughter, he observed her antics and your patience.

Finally, your hands lifted the little one as her tiny legs kicked in the air, ready to run in the air.

You fixed Margaret’s dress and messy hair while her bright eyes continued being focused on the man sitting on the grass. Her hands doing the typical “grabby” motion to Leon. Sighing in defeat, you spoke to the man.

“Sorry, don’t know what happened.” You sheepishly said as you offered the man an apology for your daughter’s previous mischievous actions. “She usually doesn’t call random people dada I assure you.”

“She gave me quite the scare.” Leon chuckled as he got up from the grass. “My past actions flashed before my eyes.”

“As I said, I’m sorry.” You repeated your words while your daughter tried wriggling her way out of your arms. When she saw that her mother’s grip wasn’t budging, she took matters into her own hands.

She started crying.

You weren’t letting your daughter play with a stranger, that much you knew.

“My name’s Leon, by the way.” Leon said, extending his arm, but he pulled back as soon as he saw that you were too busy handling the tantrum your daughter was having.

You told Leon your name which easily fell from his lips to confirm he heard you well. “Do you normally come here?” You asked.

“Yes, but just in the mornings.” He responded, watching the little one pouting. “Something came out today so duty called. Cops don’t rest.”

“Wait, Are you a cop?” You seemed to relax at the revelation and he couldn’t help but get a Deja Vu from this little interaction. A friend of his asked him the same question, but at least now he wasn’t surrounded by zombies.

“A cop…” A whisper came out from Leon’s lips, a playful yet gentle smile formed on his face. “Kinda.”

“I’ll assume you’re way more important than that.” You adjusted Margaret in your arms when she finally calmed. Although she kept on staring at Leon, her bright eyes focused on him. “Because if you were indeed a cop or a chief you’d be puffing your chest out.”

“Are they always like that?” He acted surprised.

“Here, in New York? I don’t know… you tell me.”

It’s been a while since he last spoke with someone this freely. Surely he has talked with his friends a lot. But they were people he had previously known and shared the same past as him, a connection to the outside world seemed impossible and even greedy in a way.

Soon, both of you found yourselves unable to stop talking, even Margaret chirped from time to time, making her opinion loud and clear. He got to know a bit about you, and you got to know little fragments of his life. The ones who wouldn’t lead him to share more than necessary, obviously.

Despite the rough exterior, his constant frowning stopped as a soft expression replaced it. Margaret's chubby hands absentmindedly held one of Leon’s fingers as he spoke with you, blabbering and being overjoyed by his presence.

However, her cheerful mood slowly turned sour as soon as she got hungry. Glassy eyes and sobs warned you that the conversation would come to an end.

“Yup, I gotta go.” You murmured trying not to bring more stress to your already distressed baby. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Likewise.” Leon kept his hands in his pockets, unable to come up with anything else. He wanted to say that perhaps they could repeat this. But then again, he’s been so deprived of normal social interactions that he no longer knows if that would sound creepy.

“Have a good night.” He decided it would be the wisest thing to do. He watched your soft expression as you took your little girl’s hand and waved goodbye.

Ever since that little interaction, his schedule changed. His morning routine was long forgotten. An excuse was made, something between the lines that his shift changed so he has to work in the mornings.

And he was delighted to spend time with both of you. The highlights of his whole day would be getting to hear about you and Margaret.

Each day that passed meant new memories being made. From the way he got to know Margaret’s favorite ice cream flavor to your childhood dreams. Every detail mattered for him because he could now see how simple life could be.

He took—both of you mostly— on little dates. Let it be to try a new cafeteria near the park, drinking an americano while Margaret drank from her sippy cut which was filled with chocolate milk.

However, there were times in which Margaret would stay with a friend of yours. Allowing you to be alone with Leon. And while he appreciates the joy and happiness your daughter brought, he also loved the moments in which he could focus just on you.

Sadly, years of training didn’t prepare him to man up and make the first move. When he thought he would brush away every insecurity and second guesses, something would come up.

He wanted to grab your hand, the waiter would come at the worst time. He wants to compliment you, he'd almost choke with his own saliva. He wanted to give you a goodbye kiss after driving you home, someone would call him.

It was as if the universe was against him.

Thankfully, you had picked up those hints. And if Leon wasn't the luckiest man out there, you can help him in his predicament.

On a usual afternoon, as Margaret played with the leaves that had fallen from the trees, you shot him a question.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Huh? Yes, it sounds nice.” Leon absentmindedly replied, thinking it would be like the rest of your dates.

“I mean… In my house. I don't think I've invited you yet.”

In the meantime, Margaret had grabbed some leaves which she placed on Leon's hair. The man didn't even react to it, already used to her antics.

“I wouldn't like to intrude.”

“You wouldn't. See it as a friendly meeting.”

Friendly meeting, of course. He couldn’t be so selfish.

“If you insist.” He says as the little one giggles, her smile just showing two teeth. “When would it be?”

“Are you free this 14th?”

He nods, he doesn't even remember if he's in fact free. But he'd make time.

Besides, who works on Valentine’s Day?

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

He wishes he would've realized about the implications of the day sooner.

The other dates have been nothing but platonic. Of course he had been nervous, biting his nails to the point where had to put on clear nail polish.

But this one is for Valentine's Day. Day where people confess their love in dramatic ways. Some lucky people even propose on this date.

Leon has been out of the dating game for years. He believes he'll mess it up somehow, especially as he sees the reflection of himself in the mirror.

Of course, he knows he's getting better. But his appearance tells everyone otherwise. His hair continues being dark, a big contrast from his past self whose blond hair would be the talk of some people.

The palm of his hand brushes over his stubble cheek. The sensation of those tiny hairs is similar to blades. He looks at his watch, there is no time to shave. The last thing he wanted was to be late on his first date.

He sighs and walks toward the table, on top of it are two bouquets. One has multiple red and pink roses, that one is for you. The other one consists of a single white rose, for Margaret. Even if he has forgotten the basics of dating, he wouldn’t go empty-handed to your home.

The drive to your house isn’t an easy one. Not because he lacked driving skills, he is pretty much proud of how well he could drive when he is not facing life-or-death situations.

He takes his car, just for today. He knows he has to be himself and show you his love for bikes. But he would be lying if he wasn’t a tad scared about coming to your house driving his usual motorbike. What would you think? Surely you’d dump him for risking his life or something like that.

But he is so damned anxious. He turns on the radio, trying to muffle his thoughts but the first thing that comes up is a Valentine's Day advertisement. ‘Don’t mess up your date today! Try our newest product and—’ He’s trying, he doesn’t know what the ad is talking about but he needs no product for this date to be a success.

He turns off the stupid machine. After all, today’s music sucks. Nothing personal, he just doesn’t like it. He’d prefer if the radio played real music. Some Deftones and Korn would do.

But right now he’d dance to anything. Valentine’s Day, after all, should be a romantic getaway from the normalcy of life. Even though years had made him a corny individual, if it’s with you, romanticism should never die.

He’s rambling, his head is a mess. He sees himself slow dancing with you, Somethin’ Stupid playing in the background. He foresees a future in which he could paint next to your daughter, suns and trees never looked so pretty as he imagines that scenario.

Dating you would come with the whole pack, he knows well. But even at his age, he still feels like a broken child whenever he sees himself in the mirror. Memories of his innocence being stripped away of him and his present still clinging on to the faint threads of hope.

So that’s why he made the promise of taking this relationship seriously. No matter if you end up being nothing more than friends. People often say that you just know when you meet the one. And he saw the beacons of lights announcing the whole sun when he met you and your little one.

Eventually, he reaches your home. Double-checking the address you had previously sent him over text, he confirms this is the place you live in. A modest house, enough for you and Margaret.

He switches off the engine and takes out the key from the ignition. Placing his hands one last time on the steering wheel, he takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. And with a newfound conviction, he grabs the two bouquets and gets out of the car.

When he walks towards the door, he immediately knocks. If he dared to wait just a second just to calm his anxiety, he’d spend at least 5 minutes staring at the wooden material. So, he sacrifices that priceless time in order to face reality.

A ‘coming’ is heard by Leon a few seconds after he knocks. Eventually, the front door opens and you welcome him with Margaret in your arms. “Hey.” You greet him, Margaret doing the same as she waves her hand.

“Hey, you two.” Leon says with a warm smile, trying to hold back the fact that there hasn’t been a better image than this. “I couldn’t come empty-handed to your house so I took the liberty to bring you these.”

Leon then hands you the bouquets he had brought—the bigger one for you, and the smaller one with a single rose for Margaret.

“Are these for me?” A dumb question, of course. But there’s no harm to ask and surely it would get a nice reply from Leon who has been dancing around the idea of flirting with you. Too scared to come off as awkward and silly.

“I don’t see another pretty woman around here.” It slips so smoothly out of his lips. Leon Kennedy, you still got it, he mentally praises himself.

“Yeah, right.” You roll your eyes, satisfied with the answer you received. “Please, come in.”

Leon nods and enters your house. The living room was nicely organized, and the way some toys blended in with the decoration brought a smile to his face. The perfect balance between the sober expected room with the colorful and childish playthings.

You set Margaret on the floor not before giving her the rose Leon gifted her. She absentmindedly walks toward the couch and sits down to inspect what an amazing thing the funny man brought.

“Well, looks like she likes them.” Leon hums as he watches how Margaret starts happily tearing the flower into tiny pieces. Her antics filling Leon’s heart, he could get used to this feeling.

He wants to.

“Yup, definitely.” And your eyes meet Leon’s, his piercing blue eyes are not cold as he often thinks. They remind you of the beach sea, of the gentle waves and the gentleness they carry.

And he sees himself in yours. In your eyes, he isn’t a cold and depressed agent who is fighting off the odds. He admires the man he’s becoming. The man who despite everything he has experienced, wants to do better.

“I haven’t told you yet but…” Leon trails off as he gathers the courage to do this simple yet nerve-wracking action. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he kisses your knuckles. A gentleman through and through. If he could win your heart, he’d do anything to protect both of you.

Although he was lying, even if he weren’t to win you over, you have already gained a friend who would literally save the world for you to live in with your most beautiful miracle.

“You’re sappy.” You shake your head laughing, but you don’t push Leon away. In a way, your teasing comes off as a thank you.

“And you break my heart.” He chuckles, letting go of your hand which falls to your side.

As it does, your eyes fall on Margaret. While she continues playing with torn pieces of the flower, you see her head swaying slowly from side to side, as if fighting off sleep.

“It’s nap time for little Margaret.” You break the silence as you walk toward Margaret whose tiny fingers still try to tear up the already destroyed rose.

You pick up Margaret and with the way she isn't getting fuzzy, your assumption was correct. She is fighting against Morpheus, sadly losing.

You glance at Leon who is standing in the same place you left him. Admiring the scene of you carrying your daughter.

“Would you like to help me?” You murmur.

Of course he does, he wants nothing more but to embark on this new life. He has seen so much horror and for once, he wants to indulge in this domestic dream of his.

“If you let me.”

Humble, timid, and definitely not showing how enthusiastic he was about helping you.

You nod and guide him upstairs. Margaret’s room was just next to yours, even though you prefer to sleep with her, still too nervous about her getting tangled in her own blankets.

As both of you reach the room, shades of pink and white greet Leon. Some toys are scattered around the floor too. Proof of Margaret’s wholesome behavior.

Margaret shifts in your arms, her previous peaceful demeanor changing given the frustration of not falling asleep yet. She is pretty much easy to handle when nap time comes, but today is one of those days.

“You told me I could help.” Leon's hushed voice reaches you. His eyes express the need to assist you in a task like this.

“Sure…” Your heart flutters as Leon steps up to help you. You indeed asked him if he wanted to come with you. But the fact he had so eagerly accepted the role made you appreciate him even more.

If that was even possible.

As Margaret starts letting out soft cries, you hand her to Leon who is quick to catch her. At first, Margaret is held rather awkwardly which brings a smile to your face before her cries get really serious.

You help Leon by moving his hand. That gains a quiet ‘ok ok’ meaning that he got the hang of it.

He positions Margaret on his chest, her face seeking the crook of his neck as she continues letting out tiny sobs. With his hand supporting his back, he rocks her.

If anyone were to see him, they'd think he's a father holding his daughter. But in his mind, he's holding your world, his world.

Oblivious to it, Leon started humming a song. He doesn’t know where he had heard it before. Maybe it came from his mother, a memory he thought was deeply buried in his mind.

Eventually, your baby falls asleep which definitely boosts Leon’s mood as she grins. He's built for this! He thinks.

He lays Margaret in her crib. The little one breathes slowly as she drifts off to dreamland.

Both of you slowly and quietly walk out of the room making sure not to make any loud noise and wake the sleeping princess.

As you slowly descend from the stairs and are once again in the living room, Leon’s mind is filled with expectations.

What's next?

What is he supposed to do now?

As if on cue, your words break the silence.

“I forgot to order the food.” You sheepishly admit as you nervously laugh. Between cleaning the house before Leon came and taking care of a toddler the fact that a dinner without food wouldn't be a dinner slipped out of your mind.

“I'll do it right now just give me a second to search for this one restau—”

“Hey, it's okay.” Leon reaches for your arm before you can walk toward where the phone is. He takes this opportunity to do all the things he has wanted to do with you. To accomplish each one of those silly yet endearing wishes of his.

“Besides… this is a great excuse for us to bond more.”

He lets go of your arm but instead, his hand takes out his cellphone. Your eyes curiously watch as he types something.

For a moment, Leon doesn't utter a word and you can see how his fingers are slightly shaking.

Leon looks up from the phone and gives you a gentle smile before he sets the phone aside. After a couple of seconds, the slow and wistful chords of a piano announce the beginning of a song.

“May I have this dance?” Leon extends his hand toward you.

You opt to accept his hand. In the back of your mind, you wanted to tease him one more time. Just like you did when he told you happy Valentine’s. But you feel this is way more important than those simple words.

As your hand locks with his, he pulls you closer to his body. His free arm finds its home in your lower back, not too low to keep it PG and not to discomfort you in this intimate dance.

Letting him guide you, you sway from side to side. His past self wouldn't have imagined that he could reach this level of serenity and tranquility. The simple thought of having a family was like a faraway dream.

Your head rests comfortably on Leon's shoulder, the scent of his cologne being your new favorite aroma. The one that brings you memories from the time you met him to all the dates you had that led to this very moment.

The song continues its course, and the outside world is forgotten for a moment. No words are exchanged as both of you drown in the homely feeling of dancing in each other's arms.

After a while, without lifting his head and allowing his lips to ever so slightly graze against your ears, Leon's voice cut through the peaceful melody.

“Let me in.” He whispers, his hands ever so slightly tightening around your middle section. His words brush against your ear like the soft melody that plays in the background.

“What do you mean?”

“Let me in, in your life. I don’t want to ask you to just be your partner.” The weight and truth of his statement turn your head in a messy place. “I want to be part of your life and Margaret’s.”

He wants to stick around, he wants to be greeted by you and Margaret each time he comes back from a mission. He wants to give Margaret the childhood he never had. And, he wants to fulfill every little dream you and he may have.

“I want to wake up next to you each morning. To Margaret telling us she's hungry in her own way.” He's always been a man of few words, but in this moment he could recite the whole bible if he wanted.

“I want to put Margaret to sleep every day just like I did today. And I want to sleep next to you every night, knowing that you're safe.”

“I don't want you to be a memory.” His lips move to the side of your face, daring to kiss your cheeks in a sweet manner. “I want you to be my whole life.”

Smoothly and with ease, his words fall from his lips while his tempo never falters. His thumb now softly rubs your skin, where his hand is located to support your back in the dance.

He'd want to take pride and tell you he's that good with words. However, many times he has rehearsed this speech that if he had stumbled on his words he'd have let the earth swallow him.

And as the song came to an end, so did Leon’s confession.

A few seconds of silence create the worst nightmare in Leon's imagination. He could already hear your words telling him you don't feel the same that you're already in love with someone else or—

Your knuckles caress Leon’s face, feeling the growing stubble on his cheek and jaw. The sensation of being touched like this has been a long-distance memory that he's completely forgotten what being loved felt like.

He now feels both of your hands cupping his face, prompting him to look you in the eyes. His blue eyes lock with yours and admire the softest of expressions drawn on your face.

As he gazes into you, he can only think how in love he is. And what a good life awaits for him.

And what feels like both an eternity and a split second, your lips connect with his in a tender yet meaningful kiss. One that he's been expecting after all this time.

The one is indeed not a myth.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: I had so much fun writing this. There's something about found family that makes me all soft and sappy lmao. And sorry if my despiction about cops is wrong... I've never set foot in the US so spare your writer the embarrassment. Anyway, I hope you all have a beautiful day! No matter if you spend it with your lover, friends or alone. (Dividers are from: @/cafekitsune)

💬 SHADESOFLSK: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #resident evil x reader

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azrielslittleslut · 1 month ago

Note

I have a lil angst/fluff request if your still taking them. Its a single dad azriel x reader. Where he had a baby with Elain but she took off with Lucien and she left Az with the baby (lets say baby is 6 months old and has no wings). Az is kinda freakin out cuz babies and him hes a lil scared on what to do. While on a mission in day court Az then meets reader who has the most beautiful white feathered wings and hes instantly mesmerized. Hes there for such a short amount of time so he decides to shoot his shot and lands himself a few dates (not once mentioning hes a father). He notices once or twice that reader will not engage or awknowledge babies when or if they smile and coo at her, but he thinks nothing of it. On his last night in the Day Court the bond snaps for him ( but not for her) and hes so so freakin happy, he invites her to Velaris to visit his family and meet his son. Hes a lil nervous about it and when he finally introduces them shes so cold and distant, wont even hold the baby or look at him. She flys back home that same night and tells Az some lame excuse that hes nice but he should have started out saying he had a son. Anyway long story short turns out that she had struggled to have a baby with her husband, and when it finally happend she had a rough birth but holding her baby in her arms was worth the wait.

*Trigger warning*

In the end she felt she failed as a mother and couldnt protect her baby from an enemy she had made from being her husband had also died trying to protect their child, so seeing children was just too painful for her and so she tried to avoid at all costs. I see it going both ways Az waiting yrs for her to heal and coming back for her, Or Az and them working and healing together, You can end however you see fit, or not at all of its too triggering. I just hardley ever see single dad Az freaking out over a lil baby. And scared af reader.

"Wounds"

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: talk of child loss/difficult pregnancy, angst, language, fluff, Az being a worried dad, slight Elain slander, happy ending:)

Word Count: 7.8k

a/n: anon, i know this took ages, but i wanted to get it right. i personally have never experienced this, but i hope i did it justice. my thoughts go out to everyone on here who has experienced child loss or hard pregnancies! <3

Enjoy!

"Please stop crying. Please," Azriel begged, his eyes looking worriedly down at the bundle in his arms. No amount of coddling or singing or rocking seemed to soothe the baby, and he was at his wit's end with exhaustion. He held his son close, savoring the warmth radiating from him. "Come on, Ky. What do you need?"

Kyrell, or Ky for short, looked up at Az, his eyes full of tears. His eyes were dark brown, just like his mother's, and Azriel felt a sharp pang in his chest every time he looked at his son. Those eyes brought back memories full of joy, but mostly pain. Azriel couldn't stop his mind from going back to a little over a year ago, back to that day that had changed everything.

"Are you sure, Elain?" Azriel asked, his voice full of anxiety. His shadows swirled around him, sensing the stress of their master. "Have you talked to Madja?"

Elain squared her shoulders, her face like stone. "Madja was the one who confirmed it. I am sure." She rested a hand over her flat belly. "She said I'm only a few weeks along, but she doesn't think the babe has wings."

Az felt a rush of relief wash through his body. He didn't want to remember what had happened with Feyre, and he would rather die than watch Elain suffer the same way. "Are you... happy? I mean, this was unplanned. We were so careful... I don't know how this happened."

They had both been taking the contraceptive tonic, not willing to take any risks since they were so secretive about their relationship. How had this happened?

Elain took a step forward and took his hands in hers. "I am happy, Az. I've always wanted to be a mother," she said, her voice soft. "Yes, this is unexpected, but this baby is a sign of our love. The outcome of a wonderful and beautiful joining that even the cauldron itself couldn't stop."

Azriel's heart swelled in his chest. He pulled his hand from hers, lowering it to rest on her belly. He could already imagine the life growing inside of her, the future they would have together. He pulled her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her hair. "I don't know how to be a father," he admitted. "But we can figure it out together."

Elain wrapped her arms around his waist, careful of his wings. "Together," she agreed.

Those had been fake words and empty promises. Only a few days after Ky's birth, Elain had disappeared quite literally into the night, leaving everything she owned in the townhouse. Az had returned from a short mission in Winter Court to his son crying in his crib and a note on the nightstand saying that Elain had left to be with Lucien. That she had decided to accept the bond and live with him. That she wanted to leave Azriel and their son to live a happy and carefree life.

Unfortunately, being the single father of a newborn didn't give Azriel much time to grieve, or even be angry, about what happened. So he had done what he always did and buried his feelings deep down into his soul. He had a baby to take care of, and he was afraid of what could happen if he let himself feel.

Ky's wail tore through the room, bringing Azriel back to the present. He had cried like this almost every night for the last few weeks, and Azriel couldn't take it anymore. He wasn't cut out to be a father. He couldn't do this. He should have been more careful with Elain. He should have-

"He's teething," Feyre said from the doorway. She made her way into the room, her footsteps light. "They cry like that when they're teething."

Azriel looked down at Ky as he said, "Does that... hurt them?" He ignored how stupid the question sounded as he asked it.

Feyre smiled softly as she held her hands out. "It's uncomfortable for them, and crying is the only way they can tell you. May I?" she asked, her brows raised in expectation. "I do have some experience with this, you know."

Azriel gently handed Ky to Feyre, his wings drooping to the floor. He had moved into the River House after Elain had left. He had tried to do things on his own, not wanting to inconvenience his family. But after a few weeks of not sleeping, or eating for that matter, Rhys and Feyre had all but dragged him into their home, stating that if he didn't move in with them, they would order it as his High Lord and High Lady.

It had been difficult at first, but now he was so thankful for their help. They knew how to raise a baby because of Nyx, and he gladly accepted any advice they offered. They kept their distance, though, allowing Az to figure out fatherhood on his own.

"I'm sorry if he woke you," Az said quietly. "How long does this last?"

Feyre smiled down at Ky, her hand running over his tuft of black hair. "Until their teeth come in." She looked up at Az, and her face hardened as she saw his expression. "This is normal, Az. Healthy, even. It means he's growing, which is a good thing. But for tonight, Rhys is whipping together a salve we used on Nyx to help with the pain. He should have it ready in the next few minutes."

Azriel released a breath, his shadows moving to swirl around Ky. His shadows loved his son, loved swirling around him to make him giggle. "Thank you," Az murmured to Feyre. "For... for all of this. I don't think I would be standing if it weren't for you and Rhys."

Feyre smiled, her eyes bright with emotion. "You're welcome, Az. I would never let one of my closest friends and nephew suffer." She winked at him. "Besides, who else would babysit while you go on a mission?"

Right, his missions. Since Ky had been born, Azriel had gone on a few missions, but he had reluctantly learned how to delegate the harder ones to his spies. He couldn't risk something happening to him now that he had a son to raise, so he only took the easier ones, and he was never gone for more than two days.

"Ky does love to play with Nyx," Azriel murmured quietly as if that was a good enough reason for his son to be left here while he was gone. What would Az do when Ky got older? How would he explain to him the details of his job to his son? What if Ky didn't-

Az was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't realize Feyre had moved closer to him. "Speaking of missions," she said quietly, her voice low. "Rhys needs you to go to Day Court. Nothing serious, of course. Just routine surveillance."

Azriel nodded distantly, his mind going numb. "Of course. I can leave in the morning." His mind was already racing, preparing to become the shadowsinger and spymaster of the Night Court and not a scared single father.

Feyre smiled softly, her hand cradling Ky's tiny head. "Don't worry about Ky. We will watch him."

For a few moments, the world narrowed down to his sleeping son in his High Lady's arms. He looked so vulnerable and frail, and Az was overcome with a wave of anger and rage.

How could Elain do this to him? Azriel didn't care if she felt nothing for him, but how could she look at this perfect child and decide to leave?

Azriel locked those feelings away as fast as they came, choosing to ignore them rather than face them head-on. "I'll get the details from Rhys in the morning," he said finally. "A routine trip to Day Court can't be that difficult."

---

It turned out that a routine trip to Day Court could be that difficult. Immediately upon arrival, Azriel quickly realized how much training his spies here lacked. He had spent hours rehashing the basics—how to blend into a crowd, how to remain silent in the shadows. These spies were supposed to be his eyes and ears, yet they couldn’t even follow the simplest of protocols.

Most infuriating of all, they hadn’t been sharing information with each other. One claimed to know about the political shifts happening within the Day Court, but when pressed, they admitted it was only rumors. Another had no idea about the movements of the court’s key players. It was as if they were all operating independently, blind to the larger picture.

Prythian was shifting, changing, and these people had failed to notice. Azriel’s temples pulsed with a dull ache, the constant incompetence chipping away at his already thinning patience. How had it gotten this bad? How had they let things slip so far?

By the time the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the streets of the Day Court, he was no longer hiding in the shadows. There was no point. His headache had grown unbearable, a sharp reminder of how much he longed to be somewhere else—anywhere else. He thought of his son. He missed him fiercely, the boy’s infant giggle, the way his tiny hands would reach up for him when he returned home.

But now, he was trapped in this beautiful, sunlit prison, surrounded by spies who couldn’t even spy. The thought made him grit his teeth.

He had just turned the corner onto another street when he was stopped in his tracks. Before him stood the most beautiful female he had ever seen, but what caught his attention was her feathery white wings. They shimmered faintly in the sunlight, as if they had been dipped in iridescent powder.

"Hey, watch it asshole!" The yell came from a disgruntled bystander who didn't appear to be happy with Azriel's sudden stop in the middle of the busy street. With another curse, the bystander made their way around Azriel's hulking form, so obviously out of place here in Day.

Azriel shrugged it off, taking a step forward to keep walking down the street, but he was stopped by the sound of a lovely female voice.

"It's not every day we get someone from the Night Court around here," the female said with a smile.

Azriel blinked. It seemed that the commotion on the street had been loud enough to catch the beautiful female's attention. She now stood before him, her white wings tucked in tight.

"Am I that obvious?" Azriel asked finally. He had years of practice at blending in, and this female had called him out immediately.

She chuckled, the sound soft like wind chimes. "Well, black isn't really a Day Court color. And," she said, gesturing to his wings, "I don't know of another court that has winged males."

Azriel shrugged nonchalantly. "You never know. Maybe I'm from a court nobody has ever heard of. I could be an undiscovered creature, here to make a home in Day Court."

Azriel had always been good with females, never struggling to use his charms and looks to woo them. Hell, he usually didn't have to even say anything.

But right now, he honestly didn't know what the fuck he was saying. An undiscovered creature? If Cassian ever heard about this...

The female laughed again, this time tipping her head back. Azriel was mesmerized by the sound, his chest tingling. "You're not a creature," she said matter-of-factly. "You're Azriel. The shadowsinger."

Az crossed his arms, his eyes looking at the female warily. "You've heard of me?" He knew he had a reputation in Prythian, and it wasn't a good one. Normally, it wouldn't bother him if others knew what he did, but something about this female made him want to fall to his knees and repent for all of the wrongs he had done.

"Of course I have. You fought in the War." She was smiling at him, her cheeks dimpling slightly. "Besides, I've always been curious about shadowsingers, so it's only right that I would know about the only one alive."

His shadows were swarming him now, despite the bright sun. We like her, they whispered to him. She is different than the others.

Az cleared his throat, his eyes on her wings "Your wings... I've never seen any like that before."

She looked over her shoulder at her wings. "I got them from my mother, or so my father says. I wouldn't know. She died when I was young, and I don't remember her very well." Despite the dark turn of the conversation, her tone was light, her smile still plastered on her beautiful face.

Azriel found himself smiling slightly. "Well, they are very beautiful." He felt a blush creep onto his cheeks as the compliment left his lips, but her bright smile washed it away.

"Thank you, Azriel," she responded, her eyes bright. She tilted her head as one of his shadows wrapped itself around her wrists. "I like your shadows," she said with a giggle.

His shadows never acted like this with anyone, not even Elain. With Ky, they were protective mother hens, but now, they almost seemed... enamored.

Azriel was not usually the type of male to ask a female out who he had quite literally just met. But he knew he would hate himself if he didn't at least offer her dinner, so after a few moments of watching his shadows swirl around her, he asked, "Would you like to join me for dinner tonight?"

She looked up from his shadows, her brows raised. She sheepishly bit her lip as her wings twitched. "I would," she said. She offered him her hand, rings glinting on her fingers. "I'm Y/N, by the way. I figured you would ask my name before asking me out on a date, but I have always heard of the strange Night Court customs."

Azriel took her hand, fighting the urge to look at his scarred skin against her perfect flesh. "My apologies. I, uh, I-" He struggled to come up with an excuse for his lack of manners, but he came up short.

She patted him on the shoulder gently. "I can forgive you. As long as you pay." She clicked her tongue, looking past him to the shops lining the streets. "Day Court is amazing, but I swear it has the most expensive food..."

Azriel smiled as he listened to her ramble on, following her as she made her way through the crowd. His shadows still swarmed her, but she didn't seem to mind.

After all, it was only one date, and then he would go back to the Night Court... and to his beloved son.

---

One date turned into three, and Azriel couldn't help but admit to himself how much fun he was having. He had not laughed this hard in ages, and even though he had only known her for two days, he felt more open and seen than ever.

He had told her all about his training in the camps, the wars, the Inner Circle. She had listened intently, even diving into her own life. It turns out that she worked at a small bookshop in the city, and she had two roommates in a small townhouse.

She seemed to have such a simple, perfect life, and Azriel found himself full of envy. He tried to fight it, but as he listened to her talk about her daily routines, he wondered what it would be like to live such a life.

"Why were you up at three in the morning, anyway?" she said with a laugh. They were walking down the streets, enjoying the quietness that came with nighttime in the Day Court. "Most people are asleep then."

Azriel paused for a moment. He had been telling her of the time he had found Cassian eating an entire chocolate cake with his bare hands in the kitchen. He had been up because Ky had been crying, and he had wandered into the kitchen for a bottle, only to find a chocolate-covered Cassian and a pissed of Nesta.

Azriel had told her many things, more than he had ever told anyone, but he left out the fact he had a son. He didn't know how to bring that up, afraid she would judge him, or worse... take pity on him for his unfortunate situation. The thought of someone feeling sorry for him twisted his stomach, and he wasn't ready to see that look in her eyes.

"I couldn't sleep," he said at last. "What? They don't have midnight snacks here in the Day Court?"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Midnight snacks, yes. Three-in-the-morning snacks, absolutely not."

"Well, you're missing out. You should really try-"

Azriel was cut off as a young fae female walked up. She was pretty, with pointed ears and bright red hair. In her arms, she held a small child, no older than two or three. The child was wrapped in a pink blanket, sleeping soundly against the female's chest.

Azriel's heart clenched as a wave of homesickness swept over him. He missed Ky terribly. He knew he was doing alright, thanks to his earlier check-in with Rhys and Feyre, but he longed to be the one holding his baby. He could almost feel the weight of his son in his arms, the scent of him, the way his little hands would reach for Azriel in the middle of the night.

"Y/N!" the female greeted, her tone warm. "I haven't seen you around in ages! How have you been?"

Azriel's companion smiled, but he could see something dark in her eyes. "I've been... good." Her voice was tighter than usual, all signs of her earlier laughter gone. "And you?"

"Oh, you know. Tired all the time, thanks to the little one crying at all hours of the night." The female smiled softly, bouncing the child gently in her arms.

Azriel could understand that, at least. He would never forget the time he almost put his boots in the fridge instead of the milk because of his exhaustion.

"Yes, well. I've always heard motherhood can be difficult, but you look amazing- if that counts for anything." As Y/N spoke, Az noticed how she made it a point not to look at the sleeping child, keeping her eyes on her friend's face.

Perhaps, she didn't like children? Or maybe she wasn't really friends with this woman, and she was trying to appear uncomfortable to get out of the situation?

The other female's gaze lowered for a moment. "I am sorry. I.. I-" she stammered for a few moments before shaking her head, seeming to right her thoughts. "Right. Well, I'll leave you two alone." She smiled kindly at Az. "Enjoy your evening."

She quickly hurried off, leaving Azriel to stare at Y/N. "Are you alright?" he asked lowly, daring to place a gentle hand on her arm. Her gaze had gone nearly vacant, and he decided he would do anything to bring back the warmth from earlier.

She blinked whatever emotion she was fighting away. "I'm fine. That woman is always driving me up the walls. Always coming into my store, asking if I can spare any free books."

Azriel nodded, but something told him there was more to the story. He decided not to press it. "Shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm.

The two of them made their way down the street, once again laughing and carrying on as if nothing had happened. But there was still a shadow there, a voice telling him that there were still pieces of her that he didn't understand.

---

The mating bond snapping into place took Azriel completely by surprise. It was Azriel's last night in the Day Court, and she had been showing him her bookstore.

She had handed him a new arrival, her eyes alight with passion, when he had felt that snap inside of his chest. He had stumbled back into a shelf, his wings pushed against the wood, his hand on his chest. He was still struggling to breathe as she leaned over him, her voice soft.

"Azriel?" she asked, her tone full of worry. "Are you alright? Let me go get you some water-"

Mate. You are my mate. His thoughts were drowned out by a deafening ringing in his ears, and it took all of his self-control to not blurt them out in a fit of happiness.

After he regulated his breathing, Az forced himself to stand upright. "I'm fine," he murmured, his eyes on her face. She was looking at him with worry and shock, her arms out to catch him in case he stumbled again. "Are you- do you feel anything?"

Her brows furrowed as she shook her head. "No. Other than worrying about you tearing down my new bookshelf," she said, but there was a teasing smile on her lips.

I guess the bond only snapped for me, Azriel thought to himself. It made sense, of course, but it would make things a lot less complicated if she felt it, too.

It was in that moment that Azriel decided that she needs to see all of him. Where he comes from, his family... his son. If she wanted to be his mate, it would be on her terms, not his.

He ignored the voices plaguing his mind, telling him that this wonderful female would never choose him, especially once she realized the baggage he carried. No, he let himself feel this happiness, the first true happiness he had felt in a long time.

His mate. He had found his mate.

"You know tonight is my last night here," he said, taking a step toward her. "But, maybe we can have more nights together?"

She had been in the process of placing the book on a table, but her hand stopped as she heard his words. "What do you mean?"

Azriel bit his lip as nervousness filled his chest. "I mean I would like to take you to the Night Court. Just for a visit, of course." He smiled at her, feeling awkward for the first time in centuries. "So you can see all of the strange rituals we have there."

For a moment, Az thought she would decline. Her face paled slightly, and her lips tightened. But eventually, a beautiful smile bloomed across her face, like the sun rising at dawn.

"I would like that," she said cheerfully. "I haven't left Day in a while. Are you wanting to leave tonight?"

He thought his heart would beat out of his chest with happiness, but he forced his voice to remain steady. "We could, as long as you have everything in order here with the store."

She placed the book on the table and took his hands in hers. "I can talk to my roommates. They can keep eyes on the place while we're gone. I need a vacation, anyways."

Azriel laughed, the sound deep and joyous. He gestured a hand toward the door. "After you," he said. "I've been wanting to see what those wings look like in flight."

---

Her wings were the most beautiful things he had ever laid his eyes on. Even though it was dark, they shimmered under the moonlight, their color shifting to silver.

They laughed as they flew, and Az was surprised at how well she could keep up with him. She was able to follow his maneuvers expertly, dipping and rolling along with him. He made it a point to ask her who she was trained by later.

The River House was quiet when they landed. His shadows alerted him to the fact that Rhys, Feyre, Nyx, Ky, Nesta, and Cassian were all inside, having just finished dinner.

"It seems that everyone is here," he murmured to her, taking her hand in his as he walked up the steps. "This is your last chance to turn back."

She pulled her eyes away from her surroundings long enough to look at him. "After I flew all this way? I don't think so," she said with a giggle.

He pushed the door open, his hand still in hers. He led the way into the small sitting room, the air warm and smelling of citrus and jasmine. His family was all here, seated in chairs around the fire. His eyes roamed the room, looking for Ky, and he found him sleeping in a small basket next to the fire. Nyx was sleeping next to him, the small boy having placed his hand protectively over the babe.

Azriel felt his chest ease at the sight of his son, safe and warm. He wanted to run to him, but he needed to ease his mate into this.

"Az," Rhys greeted, standing up from his chair. "We were wondering if you would be back tonight." He walked toward them, a smile on his face, but that smile faltered a little when he saw the female next to his brother. "And who is this?"

She stepped forward, radiating confidence as she introduced herself. "I'm sorry for intruding on your evening, but Azriel offered to show me around the Night Court. I've always heard lovely things about it."

Azriel met Rhys's violet stare. A stranger in Velaris, Az? Rhys asked into his mind. You were only supposed to go on a routine mission.

Azriel decided it was best not to beat around the bush. She's my mate. She means no harm. She is kind. And nice. And I wanted her to meet all of you.

Rhys nodded slightly. He raised a brow. Everyone?

Azriel glanced over at Ky. Everyone, he responded.

Rhys must have communicated with Feyre, because she gracefully walked over to Ky, sweeping him gently up in her arms. She smiled affectionately at Nyx as she moved over to Azriel. "He's been sleeping well," she whispered. "And eating well. I swear he's gained ten pounds since you were gone."

Azriel could no longer deny his paternal instincts, so he quickly took Ky in his arms, savoring the warmth radiating from his small body. "Did you miss me, little one?" he murmured to him as his shadows swarmed the baby, searching for any sign of distress or harm.

Azriel turned, a smile on his face as he found his mate's face. He expected her to be curious, or shocked, at the sight of a baby in his arms.

But nothing could have prepared him for the look of raw pain on her face as she looked at Azriel and Ky. "Who is that." It wasn't a question. Her voice was hard and tight, and Az swore she was holding back tears.

"This is Ky," he said gently, worry and fear creeping in as he took in her expression. "My son."

She quickly tore her eyes away, searching around the room. They fell on Nyx, who was still sleeping soundly on the floor, and she stepped back as a gasp flew from her lips.

Azriel could sense the unease radiating off Rhys and Feyre, already preparing themselves to defend their family. Cassian and Nesta stood next to each other on the far side of the room, their backs straight, their eyes holding predatory intent.

It was only Azriel, who was still holding Ky, who forced himself to remain calm. "Would- would you like to hold him? He's quite small, but he's so warm and-"

"NO!" she screamed, her body trembling as she stepped backward toward the door. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she covered her face with her hands. "I can't. No. No. No."

Feyre quickly stepped forward, taking Ky out of Azriel's arms. Calm her down. Now, Azriel, she whispered into his mind, but it was the voice of the High Lady.

"Come on," he muttered to his mate, reaching for her arm to pull her outside. "Let's go outside." She didn't fight him as he hauled her through the door and down the steps. The night air was cold, but Azriel didn't feel it.

He could only feel pain, anger, rage, and a hurt like no other. What had he said or done to send her into this kind of panic? Was the thought of him being a father truly so horrible?

Once they were outside, she ripped herself out of his grasp. "I'm going home." Her voice was distant now, devoid of any emotion.

He moved to step in front of her, his eyes pleading. "Please. Let me explain all of this-"

She pushed him out of the way, her wings unfurling as she prepared to take flight. "You're a nice male, Azriel," she said. "I... like you. I do. But you should have told me about this. About him."

Azriel fought the urge to snarl at her tone when speaking about his son. "Is it really that bad that I'm a father?" Though he was angry, his voice came out broken.

She looked at him then, her eyes softening slightly. "No. It's the fact that you don't understand. You could never understand."

"Then tell me! Help me understand!"

She shook her head as she pushed off the ground, his wings catching the air, hauling her up. "Goodbye, Azriel."

Her voice carried on the wind as Azriel watched her take off into the night, taking a piece of his heart with her.

---

1 year later

"Come on, Ky. You can do it!" Azriel encouraged, his hands out to catch Ky. The Velaris sun was blinding, but Az kept his attention on his boy, not daring to miss the sight of him taking his first steps.

Ky was standing on small, wobbly knees, his tiny face scrunched up in determination. He took a small step forward, then another, and another-

"Gods! You're doing it, son!" Azriel exclaimed in happiness.

Ky took one more step before his tiny legs gave out, but Azriel was there to catch him, as he always would be. He swooped him up, pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek. "I'm glad to know you got that determination from me, at least," he said to Ky.

Ky gave him a toothy smile as he giggled, his attention already captured by Az's shadows as they swarmed him, seeming to offer their own form of praise.

In the last year, Azriel had heard nothing from Elain. He had heard from his spies that she and Lucien had welcomed their own child into the world, a little girl who Azriel had not bothered to learn the name of.

A year ago, he would have been heartbroken beyond repair at the thought of Elain choosing to start a family with another male, even though she already had a family here. But since then, Azriel had taken the time to heal, choosing to let go of any bitterness and anger.

Ky deserved better than having a father who was pissed off at the world, and Az had vowed to himself to be the best father the world had seen. He didn't know what a good father looked like, but he was learning, and he had Rhys and Cass and the rest of his family to help him.

There was one part of his healing that he was struggling with though- his mate. The female who had quite literally flown off into the night at the sight of Ky. Az had not heard from her since that night, so he never got an explanation as to why.

He tried not to hold it against her, hoping that, if they were meant to be together, things would work out in the end.

"Uncle Azriel!" Nyx's voice, though the boy was small, boomed across the lawn. "Want me to take Ky in for his nap?" Nyx was the best cousin to Ky, always making sure the boy was eating and sleeping properly.

Hell, sometimes he was even more on top of things than Azriel was.

"Sure," Azriel said, placing Ky in Nyx's arms. "He just took his first steps. He deserves to rest."

Nyx's eyes widened. "He took his first steps and I missed it?" He blew out a breath. "You should have called for me!"

Azriel chuckled as he ruffled Nyx's black hair. "Sorry, kid. At least you were there for his first word."

In fact, Nyx had been the first word Ky had said. Of course, it had sounded more like "Byx" than anything else, but Nyx had gloated about it for days afterward.

Azriel watched Nyx carry Ky into the house, smiling to himself. It was moments like this that he was thankful for his life. Things had gotten better, so much better. He had a family now, a place where he belonged. A son, a perfect boy who looked just like him-

His thoughts were cut short as he heard soft wing beats from above. Not Illyrian wings, he realized, but something softer, like feathers.

Azriel squinted into the sun, watching small shape grow closer and closer, until the small body of a female landed in front of him.

But it wasn't any female. It was his mate.

"Hello, Azriel," she said, her voice soft. Her face was full of nervousness, and she was biting her lip and wringing her hands. She tucked her wings in tight. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

For a moment, Azriel could only blink at her. She's here. She's really here.

"No. No. Of course not," he blurted out, taking a step toward her. His shadows swarmed her, just as they had when they first met. She smiled down at them, but the smile didn't meet her eyes. "Why are you here? Are you in danger?"

She shook her head, her hair falling around her shoulders. "No. I'm fine. Everything is fine." She went back to biting her lip again as she spoke. "I've been thinking... I think you deserve an explanation of what happened last year. I owe you that. The way I reacted was wrong, and I want to explain."

"You don't owe me anything," Az said, running a hand through his hair. "I should have told you about Ky. It was wrong of me to force him onto you like that."

She smiled again. "No. You did nothing wrong. I don't know your situation, but..." She took a step forward, craning her head up to look at him. "I would like to hear about it now if you want to tell me. I promise not to fly away again."

Despite himself, Azriel laughed. He angled his head over to a small table and chairs Feyre had set up on the east end of the house. "We can talk over there," he said. "Nobody will disturb us."

The two of them walked in silence, the soft wind rustling through the trees. Azriel was nervous, not knowing what to say to carry on an easy conversation. He could feel the unease radiating from his mate, so he decided it was best to keep his mouth shut.

“You go first,” she said once they had situated themselves in the chairs. “My story is… well- just go first, Az. Please.” Her voice trembled at the end of her sentence, her eyes watery.

Azriel reached a hand over and laid it atop her own, squeezing gently. He took a deep breath before letting the painful story spill from his lips. He told her of Elain and the short romance that had followed the War. He told her of Ky's birth and the disaster that had followed. He spoke to her of his feelings, the feelings that he had not spoken to anyone, not even his family.

By the end, silent tears were streaming down his face, and he sucked in a breath as she gently reached over and wiped them away, her face full of understanding.

"She just... left?" she asked, her voice full of something like wonder, as if she couldn't understand how a mother could do that to her child. "And you've been raising Ky on your own?"

Azriel nodded once. "Well, mostly on my own. My family has been helping me, but that hasn't made it easy."

She took a deep breath, her eyes on his face. "I am sorry that happened. I don't think I would have survived that, if I were in your position." She paused for a moment, biting her lip.

"You don't have to tell me your story, you know," Azriel said, his tone gentle. "Believe me, I understand that some things are... difficult to discuss."

"I was married once," she said abruptly, her eyes moving to look at the city. "We were so happy together, but we were only missing one thing. A child."

Azriel's heart stuttered inside his chest as she spoke. He forced his face to neutrality, not wanting the warring emotions inside his mind to scare her.

She continued on, her voice vacant, "We tried for years to get pregnant, but it wasn't easy for us. We had so many false positives, and each time it happened, I felt as if a piece of my heart broke. We finally gave up, so we were surprised when I got pregnant a few years later."

"We were happy, so happy... but I had a hard pregnancy. By the third month, I was already placed on strict bedrest, completely forbidden to leave my bed except to relieve myself or get food. The labor was even worse. It took two days for our babe to arrive, but the pain and suffering was worth it to hold him in my arms. To hear his little cries and to feel him wrap his tiny hand around my finger."

Azriel watched silently as her eyes filled with tears, but he was too shocked to move. He had a horrible pit in his stomach, afraid of where this story was going.

"My family lived in peace for a few years. We had such a quiet life, you see, filled with so much love and joy... I never thought of how fast it could all be ripped away..." The tears in her eyes spilled over, coating her cheeks. "There was a male in Day Court. He was a harsh man, but he had always liked me. He was the one who taught me how to fly. He was in love with me, so he got angry when I got married, and even angrier when I had a child. I never thought he would do anything, though. I was so wrong..."

"One night, we were sleeping in our home. The male broke in and pulled my husband and me out of bed. I was so shocked, I was unable to fight, unable to do anything as I watched him go to my son's bedroom. I couldn't do anything as I watched my husband try to fight him off, only to get killed in the process. I was helpless as I listened to my boy's cries grow louder and louder, only to be silenced as he was murdered... Because of me."

She started sobbing uncontrollably, and it was all Az could do to wrap her in his arms, trying his best to shield her from the horrors of her memories.

She was breathless as she continued on, her face pressed against Azriel's chest. "What kind of mother am I? I couldn't even protect my own child when he needed me the most. I couldn't face what I had done, so I ran after that, moving into the capital city. I didn't even bury my son. There's no place I can go to honor his memory... I tried to forget my prior life, not telling anyone what had happened. My roommates don't even know."

She pulled away from him, tipping her face to look up at his. "That's why I ran, why I couldn't look at my friend's child that night. It's too painful for me to see a child. I get bombarded with these memories, and all I can see is my son's face, screaming for me to help him."

She was silent after that, her voice broken. So Azriel held her, trying to find the words. But there were really no words to offer a grieving mother. There was nothing he could say to heal these wounds.

Finally, he asked, "What was his name? Your son?"

She froze for a moment, and Azriel worried he had asked the wrong question. But she said, "Alek was his name. He..." She shook her head. "That night when I saw you with Ky... He reminds me so much of my Alek."

Azriel released a breath. "Thank you for telling me. I can't even begin to imagine what that must feel like," he said quietly. "But I need you to know- nothing could ever take away the love you gave Alek, or the love he had for you. You carry that love with you, and you hold onto it." He hesitated for a moment, moving his hand up to cup her face. "I'm here. For whatever you need- whether that's to talk, or to sit and grieve. Just know you're not alone anymore."

Despite her grave expression, she smiled. "Now you're starting to sound like my mate. I was wondering when the sweet talking would start."

Azriel gaped at her, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "You... you knew?"

She nodded. "The bond snapped for me before I flew off that night. I almost stayed, but I knew I needed time to heal before I could be the mate you deserved. So I left, and I've been working on my healing since then. I am better, but I still have hard days, so I understand if you need more time..."

Azriel cut her off with a quick kiss. "I still have hard days, too. But we can face them together. Nobody needs to deal with their problems alone. We can't let the hard days win."

She smiled, and he felt his chest warm as the life returned to her expression. "I would like that. Together," she agreed.

Azriel took a deep breath. "Would you like to see Ky? You don't have to if it will be difficult, but if you stay here..."

"I would love to," she said quietly, her eyes shining. "I'm alright. I want to meet your son."

Azriel led the way into the quiet River House, thankful that most of his family had left for the day. Once they got to Ky's room, he quietly pushed the door open, knowing he was sleeping.

"It's his nap time," he said. "It's probably best you meet him when he's not screaming his head off."

She smiled at Ky as she walked over to the crib, placing her hand on the rails. She looked up to Az, her face warm. "May I hold him?" Her voice was quiet and filled with awe.

Azriel nodded. "Of course you can, love."

Gently, she raised Ky out of the crib, cradling him to her chest. He didn't stir other than snuggling into her warmth, his small face innocent as he slept. "He looks like you," she said quietly, her eyes roaming Ky's face.

"Thank you," Azriel said proudly, a silly smile on his face.

She gasped softly as Ky wrapped his hand around his finger, his hand so small. He murmured contentedly as he slept, and Azriel realized Ky had never had this. Of course Feyre and Nesta had held him, but he had never had someone hold him with a motherly love.

Azriel's heart warmed at the sight, and he couldn't help himself as he walked over, and wrapped them tightly in his arms.

They stood there in the quiet, and Azriel swore he could hear the sounds of old wounds healing,

---

6 months later

"Where are we going, Az?" she asked, giggling as Azriel pulled her to the outskirts of the city. "There's nothing over here."

He looked back at her, offering her a wink. "That's what you think, angel."

The last six months had been filled with happiness, joy, and healing. They both had hard days, but they had been there for each other every time, honoring their promise to face it together.

Ky was growing faster than Azriel liked. He was walking and talking now, and he was even learning how to eat by himself. Just earlier this morning, Azriel had whined, complaining that his son would no longer need him soon.

She had slapped him gently on the arm. "That's what babies do, Az," she had said, kissing him gently on the cheek. "They grow, yes, but they will always need us."

She had become a mother to Ky, there was really no other way to put it. She would clean him and put him to bed, doing all the things that Azriel himself had struggled to manage with ease. A few weeks ago, Ky had called her "Mama", which caused her to cry with happiness and pain commingled.

The two of them were set to accept their mating bond next week, and Azriel couldn't be happier. They had learned so much about each other, and he had found himself falling more and more in love with this female each day. There was one thing he needed to do, though, which was why he was dragging her to this place.

On the outskirts of Velaris, there was an opening in the trees to a place where many people didn't go. At least, not those who had never experienced the loss of a loved one.

As they walked up the path, he could see the small stones poking out of the ground, their engravings holding the names of the people in the ground.

"Azriel," she said quietly, her hand tight in his, "why did you bring me to a cemetery?"

He smiled softly at her, leading her to a small stone, newer than the others, its engraving easy to read. "I wanted you to see this."

She looked at the stone, her eyes filling with tears as she read the words there.

Alek

"Forever Loved, Never Forgotten"

Though your time was brief, your light will shine in our hearts for all eternity.

In the embrace of the stars, you rest, but in our hearts, you live on.

Azriel watched her face as she read, worrying if he had chosen the right words to put on the headstone. Maybe he should have made it shorter? Was it too much?

He was pulled from his thoughts as she suddenly wrapped her arms around him, throwing her body against his. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she said between sobs. "It's perfect, Az."

"I know his body isn't here, but you can come here whenever you like. To remember him," Azriel said as he held her, running his hands through her hair.

She pulled away then, her eyes bright with love. "I can't wait to be your mate," she said, smiling through the tears.

Azriel laughed, his heart full. The wounds of the past would always linger, like shadows that never fade. But with those you love by your side, even the deepest scars could begin to heal, and in their place, hope could grow.

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