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fr0stf4ll · 28 days ago

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A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 6

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 9k (long ass chapter lol)

Trigger warning; //

notes; Hello my loves <3 HAPPY NEW YEAR woohooo!!! Sorry for not posting these last few days, but they’ve been looong with all the celebrations. Plus, I had to travel back to my place, and it took forever. So today, you’ll not only get part 6, but also part 7 ;) (it should be up in the next few minutes). This chapter was actually pretty hard for me to write because I had doubts about where to take the story or if I should give more or fewer clues about Y/N’s background. Either way, don’t hesitate to comment because even if I don’t reply to all of you, I definitely read them, and I loveeee getting those notifications. Well, see you in a few minutes for part 7 lol <3

Link; Part 5 or Part 7

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Late afternoon shadows stretched across Velaris as you and Cassian stepped off the bridge leading into the quieter district near the clinic. Both of you were weary—three days in Illyria had taxed your energy, even if the journey home was less fraught than the work you’d done in the camps. Your cloak felt heavier than usual, boots scuffing softly on the cobblestones as you approached the modest building that housed the clinic’s entrance and your apartment above it.

Cassian’s shoulders slumped a little, wings drooping as he glanced at you. “We made it,” he said, voice carrying a note of relief. “Another successful adventure survived.” His smile was a bit lopsided, but genuine.

You managed a small chuckle, rolling your stiff shoulders. “A success, I hope,” you answered quietly. “At least some of them seemed open to new methods.”

He nodded, raking a hand through his hair. “They’ll never admit it, but they’ll use what you taught them. You left an impression, Y/N.”

The simple honesty in his tone warmed you. The clinic door beckoned, safety and rest just inside. You paused at the threshold, turning to face him. “Thank you for coming with me,” you said softly. “I know you had other duties, but I’m grateful you lent your presence—and, frankly, your muscle—to ensure no one gave me too hard a time.”

Cassian shrugged, easy humor returning for a moment. “Any excuse to keep the Illyrians in line.” He sobered a fraction, studying you with quiet sincerity. “I’m glad I could help.”

A silence fell, not uncomfortable but weighted with the fatigue of the journey. At length, Cassian cleared his throat, as if remembering something. “Oh, right,” he said, seeming almost amused by whatever he’d forgotten. “Before I go—Rhys asked me to pass along an invitation. He’d like you to join him, Feyre, and a few others for dinner tomorrow night at their townhouse in Velaris. It’s a sort of… well, I guess a welcome dinner now that you’re truly back in the Night Court.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and a spark of gratitude lit behind them. “Dinner?” you repeated, a bit taken aback. “That’s… an honor. I—” You hesitated, a hundred questions floating to your mind. You weren’t sure what one normally did when invited to the High Lord’s home for a meal. “Should I bring anything?” you asked, half-wondering if a gift or some rare herbs might be customary.

Cassian’s grin turned playful. “Bring yourself,” he said simply. “That’s all they’ll want. Trust me, Rhys and Feyre don’t stand on ceremony with friends. Consider it an evening to relax, maybe talk about what’s next.” His gaze flicked over the clinic’s door, then back to you, voice softening. “You deserve a good meal and a bit of comfort after the work you’ve done.”

Touched by his words, you nodded. “All right,” you agreed. “I’ll be there.”

“Perfect.” He exhaled, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Now, I’d better let you rest. I think we’ve both earned a good night’s sleep.”

A small laugh escaped you. “Absolutely,” you said, resting a hand on the door’s latch. “Sleep well, Cassian.”

He gave you a salute that was half-mocking, half-genuine, wings fluttering as he turned away and headed down the street. You watched him go for a moment, then slipped inside the clinic, fatigue tugging at your limbs. Tomorrow, you would face the High Lord’s table, and perhaps some quieter conversations that might shape the next phase of your return.

For now, rest called, and you followed it gratefully up the stairs to your apartment, thoughts drifting between memories of Illyria’s harsh mountains and the warm promise of dinner among unlikely allies.

Back inside the familiar confines of the clinic, you paused just inside the door, drawing in the scents of linen and dried herbs that always lingered in the halls. Your joints ached a bit from the journey, but routine called, and you answered it. Before heading upstairs to your apartment, you moved through the quiet corridors to the records room. A low lamp flickered there, its glow soft against the shelves.

You ran your fingertips along the ledgers, pulling out the records from the past three days. Your eyes skimmed the entries, scanning notes that Elira and the other healers had left. No major emergencies, you read with relief—only a few minor wounds, a mild fever, the usual aches and pains. The neat handwriting confirmed that Elira had continued training the younger healers as planned. She’d even left a brief note: All went well. The younger ones are picking up the new bandaging technique quickly.

A small smile touched your lips. Good. Progress, even in your absence.

Satisfied that the clinic had fared well without you, you tucked the ledger back into place and turned toward the stairs. The promise of rest beckoned, and you ascended quietly, passing familiar sconces that flickered in the gentle air currents. Upstairs, your apartment welcomed you with its calm silence. You shrugged off your cloak, letting it fall over a chair, and considered the state of your legs and back. A warm bath—yes, that would be perfect.

You crossed to the small bathroom, lighting a few candles along the way. The soft glow gilded the tiled walls and the simple, claw-footed tub. Setting the faucet, you allowed steaming water to pour in, scenting it with a bit of lavender oil you kept for moments like these. As the tub filled and steam rose, you breathed deeply, letting the tension roll off your shoulders.

So much had happened—Illyria, the uncertain dynamics in the Night Court’s inner circle, and tomorrow, a dinner invitation from the High Lord himself. But for now, here, in this private sanctuary, you could let all that fade. Stripping out of your travel-stained clothes, you sank into the bath, the warm water cradling your tired muscles. The quiet of the evening settled over you, and the lavender-soaked steam eased the lingering edges of worry.

Tomorrow would bring its own challenges and discoveries. Tonight, you granted yourself peace.

—————

When evening arrived, you found yourself walking through Velaris’s softly lit streets, a bundle of carefully chosen flowers nestled in the crook of your arm. You’d spent much of the day working at the clinic as usual, but your mind had drifted often to the upcoming dinner. Now, wearing a simple but neat outfit—something presentable without being ostentatious—you followed the directions Cassian had given you, making your way toward the High Lord and High Lady’s townhouse.

Your heart fluttered with a mix of anticipation and nerves. It wasn’t as if you were heading into battle, but meeting them on such personal terms, in their private home, was a new threshold. You hadn’t seen Azriel since returning from Illyria, and though he might be present, you tried not to focus on that too much. This evening wasn’t about your confused feelings or the golden thread that tugged quietly at your awareness. It was about respect, camaraderie, and, hopefully, laughter over good food.

Rounding a corner, you came upon the district where the townhouse stood. The soft glow of streetlamps illuminated quiet lanes, and music drifted faintly from some distant party. Ahead, you spotted the house described to you—a graceful building of warm-colored stone and gently sloping roofs. It was large enough to accommodate their inner circle and guests, yet it didn’t loom or flaunt opulence. Instead, it exuded a gentle, welcoming aura.

Plants climbed trellises along the exterior, flowering vines weaving patterns around balconies and window frames. You caught the scent of night-blooming jasmine mingling with roses and citrus blossoms, an elegant tapestry of nature’s perfume draped over the home. It felt alive, this house—a place nurtured by caring hands. A place of growth and warmth.

Approaching the door, you paused to straighten your posture and smooth your clothes. The flowers you carried were modest and cheerful—nothing exotic or rare, just a vibrant mix of blooms from a local florist. You’d considered bringing wine, but after a moment’s reflection, you realized that whatever bottle you could afford would be outshone by the contents of their likely well-stocked cellar. Flowers, though, offered color, scent, and sincerity. That, you hoped, would be appreciated.

Exhaling slowly, you stepped forward, footfalls muffled by the ivy-softened walkway. The door’s brass knocker gleamed in the lamplight. You raised your free hand and knocked gently, heart fluttering once more. Perhaps it was silly to be nervous. You’d healed impossible wounds, steered conversations with stubborn Lords, and confronted your own uncertainties. You could handle a dinner invitation.

As you waited for someone to answer, you let your gaze drift along the eaves and sills. Lanterns dangled from hooks, their glass panels casting soft patterns of light and shadow across the entryway. Everything felt harmonious and attentive to detail—a reflection, perhaps, of the people who lived inside.

In a moment, you would be ushered in, welcomed as a friend or colleague rather than a mere visitor. The thought steadied you. The flowers shifted in your arms, and their gentle fragrance rose to meet you, a reminder that some gestures spoke volumes without words.

You were here, and you would face whatever the evening brought with an open heart.

The door swung open to reveal Feyre, her hair tumbling in soft waves over her shoulders, a gentle smile illuminating her features. She wore something elegant but not showy, a simple gown that played up her natural grace. When she saw you, her eyes lit even brighter, and she reached out, enfolding you in a warm, unexpected hug. It eased a little of the tension that had coiled in your chest.

“You’re here,” she said, voice calm and welcoming. “We’re so glad you could come.”

You offered her the bouquet, a mix of vivid blooms you’d chosen with care. Her eyes widened slightly, delighted. “They’re beautiful—thank you. I know a perfect spot for these.” She stepped back, holding the flowers with a careful tenderness, as if the gift mattered more than you’d dared hope.

She ushered you inside, and you slipped off your coat. Though it hadn’t snowed that day, a crisp chill still lingered in Velaris’s winter air, and the townhouse’s warmth wrapped around you like a soft cloak. Feyre guided you through a well-lit hallway into the living room, where conversation and laughter wove a gentle tapestry over the hush of the evening.

Rhysand rose from an armchair near the hearth to greet you, his violet eyes reflecting the lamplight. “Welcome,” he said, voice smooth and sincere. “Please, make yourself at home. You’ve already met Cassian and Azriel, but allow me to introduce the rest.”

Your gaze swept over the room. Cassian stood near the mantel, a glass of wine in hand, and as you glanced at him, he offered a lazy grin. Azriel was positioned a bit to the side, one arm resting along the back of a sofa. His bandages were gone, leaving faint lines of healing scars hidden beneath well-tailored clothing. He inclined his head softly when your eyes met, acknowledging your presence without fuss.

Seated near Azriel was a stunning blonde female—radiant and poised. Her beauty caught your attention immediately. Feyre noticed your look and added with a smile, “This is Mor—Morrigan. She’s family.”

Mor raised her glass in greeting, her hazel eyes warm with easy camaraderie. “Nice to finally meet you,” she said, voice touched with a hint of laughter, as if you’d arrived just in time for something pleasant.

Another figure caught your eye next: a smaller female, perched on the arm of a chair. Her silver eyes were sharp, ancient somehow, set into a refined face and framed by dark hair. This, you guessed, must be Amren. Your heart gave a small jolt of surprise—she was the one you’d heard described as powerful and formidable, yet she merely gave you a faint nod, assessing and cool, but not impolite.

Near Cassian stood another woman, her posture elegant, her features bearing a clear familial resemblance to Feyre. This must be Nesta—Feyre’s sister, the one who you’d heard was mated to Cassian. Her gaze was direct, but not hostile; perhaps curious, as if measuring who you were and why you’d been invited into their circle. You offered her a respectful smile, and she inclined her head in a subtle, regal manner.

The atmosphere was cordial, tinted with curiosity and acceptance. The fire crackled softly behind you, the scent of rich food and spices drifting in from another room. Feyre gestured to a free chair and you sat, the others resuming their conversations, weaving you naturally into their midst.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Azriel shift slightly, watching the interplay of introductions. Morrigan turned to say something to him, drawing his attention away and giving you a moment to breathe, to take in that you were truly here, part of this intimate gathering.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” Feyre said, settling beside Rhysand, who’d gently clasped her hand. “Until then, relax. We’ve all been looking forward to getting to know you better.”

With those words and the warmth in the room, you felt some of your lingering tension melt away. You were among allies, in a house so beautifully tended, with plants climbing the windows and laughter in the air. It was easy, in that moment, to let yourself belong just a little more to this court you were slowly making home.

As you settled into a free chair near the hearth, the soft hum of conversation enveloped you. The group arranged themselves in a loose circle of armchairs and sofas, each face illuminated by the gentle firelight and the glow of simple lanterns placed around the room. Feyre had taken a seat beside Rhysand, her hand resting comfortably on his arm, while Cassian lounged near Nesta and Azriel, who remained quietly attentive. Mor perched gracefully on a low ottoman, crossing her long legs with casual elegance, and Amren claimed a small armchair as if it were a throne, her silver eyes keen but not hostile.

Feyre, ever the thoughtful hostess, spoke first. “You’ve just returned from Illyria, haven’t you?” Her voice was warm, genuine curiosity shining through. “Cassian told us a bit about your work there. How did it go?”

You drew a steady breath, aware of more eyes turning your way. “It was… challenging,” you admitted with a half-smile. “The healers were skilled but set in their ways. I managed to introduce a few new techniques. Some were skeptical, but I think a few caught on.”

Cassian gave a snort from his spot by the mantel. “Some of them were more than skeptical. Let’s say they were resistant until they saw the results.” His grin flashed, clearly proud of how you’d handled the situation.

Mor tilted her head, golden curls slipping over one shoulder. “Resistance is standard there,” she said, amused. “I’m impressed you made progress so quickly. Usually, it takes a century or two to change an Illyrian’s mind about anything.”

A ripple of light laughter flowed through the room. Even Nesta’s lips curved slightly, though her gaze remained measured. “They can be stubborn,” Nesta agreed quietly. “But if you got them to listen, you’ve accomplished a minor miracle.”

Azriel’s gaze flicked to you then, calm and thoughtful. “Any particular technique you introduced that might stand out for them?” he asked softly, voice barely above the crackle of the fire. There was interest, maybe respect, underlying the question.

You smoothed a hand over your knee, considering. “I combined some Dawn Court infusion methods with local herbs to create salves that heal burns and cuts faster. Also taught them how to more efficiently close a wound using layered bandaging, so it breathes and doesn’t trap infection.” Your shoulders relaxed as you spoke, talking shop easing the tension in your chest. “It’s subtle changes that matter over time.”

Rhysand inclined his head. “Subtle changes often pave the way for greater shifts. Even if they don’t appreciate it now, they’ll notice the difference when their warriors recover more swiftly.”

Amren’s silver eyes narrowed with interest. “You sound like someone who doesn’t fear digging into traditions,” she commented. “I suppose traveling the continents taught you that?”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Exactly,” you said. “Every place I visited had a different approach to healing. By the time I returned, I carried a blend of knowledge. Challenging ingrained habits is never easy, but I believe if we show results, people adapt.”

As the conversation in the living room flowed around you, your attention drifted to Azriel, who’d been listening quietly while the others exchanged stories. Under the soft glow of the lamps, he seemed more at ease than the last time you’d seen him—no bandages, no pained tension in his posture. But you knew better than to assume all was perfect.

Leaning forward slightly, you caught his eye. “Azriel,” you began, your voice low enough that the others, caught up in their chatter, wouldn’t be distracted. “How are your injuries feeling now?”

He blinked, as if brought out of private thoughts. The edge of his mouth curved in a faint but genuine smile. “Much better,” he replied softly, voice smooth and controlled. “Your treatments worked wonders.”

A small surge of satisfaction warmed you. “I’m glad. I worried about scarring, especially on the wings, but it seems my methods held.”

Azriel inclined his head, shadows shifting imperceptibly at his shoulders. “They did. I owe you more gratitude than I can put into words.”

You waved a hand dismissively, though not unkindly. “No need for grand thanks. It’s what I do.” After a brief moment, you continued, “If you find yourself running low on ointment or salve—anything for lingering aches—you’re welcome to stop by the clinic. I’ll make sure you have what you need.”

His eyes flickered slightly, a hint of something unreadable passing there. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, voice still gentle. “Though I think it’s my turn to follow the rules this time. I won’t risk mixing anything that’s not from your hands.”

A quiet huff of amusement escaped you. “Good,” you said, pleased to note even the faintest humor there. “I’d prefer no more surprise remedies.”

He almost smiled fully at that, and you found yourself relieved—relieved that he’d healed, relieved that you could speak amicably, and relieved that, even amidst lingering complexities, you could offer him help without awkwardness.

Rhysand leaned forward slightly, his attention shifting fully to you. “Your skill with Illyrian wings is… notable,” he said, voice calm and curious. “It’s not often we see someone outside these mountains who can treat wing injuries with such precision. Where did you learn that?”

You swallowed, noticing how everyone’s gaze had angled your way. Azriel’s dark eyes were steady, Cassian’s brows lifted with mild interest, and Mor sipped her wine, listening quietly. “I owe much to Madja,” you said with a small shrug, trying to sound offhanded. “In my youth, under her tutelage, I spent time observing healings of various kinds. When I traveled to the Dawn Court, I worked extensively with peregryns. Between the two experiences, I pieced together techniques that transfer well.”

Rhysand nodded thoughtfully, and you sensed approval rather than suspicion. Feyre offered a gentle smile, as if pleased to understand more about your background. Azriel only gave the faintest tilt of his head, acknowledging your explanation.

Before anyone could delve deeper, the door opened softly, and you all turned. Elain stepped into the room, cradling a small bundle in her arms. The atmosphere shifted; the hush that followed her appearance was softer, lighter. She carried a baby—a tiny figure swaddled in soft linens. At the sight of you, Elain’s eyes went wide, a brief flicker of something like panic crossing her face. She managed a stiff, silent nod in your direction, acknowledging your presence.

She crossed the floor and carefully handed the baby to Feyre before moving to sit next to Azriel. The subtle tension that flared in the air didn’t go unnoticed by you. Seeing her choose a seat near Azriel struck a chord, stirring a quiet ache in your chest. The memory of misunderstandings and the complexities of their relationship hovered in your mind.

Feyre, noticing the moment, turned toward you with a warm, bright smile and the infant cradled securely in her arms. “This is Nyx,” she said softly, pride and love coloring every syllable. She stepped closer, letting you see the baby’s tiny, delicate features, the soft tufts of dark hair. “Our son.”

Your heart softened at the sight, and you drew a careful breath. “He’s beautiful,” you murmured, the tension easing slightly at the simple purity of this introduction. “Congratulations.”

Feyre’s eyes sparkled. “Thank you,” she said, rocking Nyx gently. After a moment, she glanced toward Elain and then back to you. “I should also introduce you to my sister, Elain. But I believe you’ve already met?”

Your eyes darted to Elain, who offered another small, tense smile. “Yes,” you confirmed quietly. “We’ve met.” The memory of the morning with Azriel’s injury still flickered in the back of your mind. Elain’s panic that day, her attempt to help gone wrong.

The baby cooed softly, wriggling a tiny arm free from the swaddle, and Feyre adjusted him tenderly. The simple, gentle act redirected your focus to something simpler and kinder. In that moment, held in Feyre’s arms, Nyx represented a softness and hope that contrasted sharply against the intricate bonds and tensions that wove this inner circle together.

You lifted your gaze, meeting Elain’s eyes briefly. She looked away, cheeks coloring faintly, before focusing on Azriel and the room’s gentle chatter. A hush of understanding passed—whatever had happened before still lingered, unspoken and unresolved, but for tonight, perhaps it could remain beneath the surface, overshadowed by the presence of family and the simple joy of a new life in their midst.

You blinked, noting the tiny, budding wings peeking out from Nyx’s swaddle. It took a moment for the sight to register—Feyre and Rhysand’s child had wings. The world narrowed briefly to that small detail, a realization that sent a pulse of concern through your chest. Memories stirred of the quiet horrors you’d learned about: how some winged births could end tragically if the mother’s body wasn’t prepared.

“Oh,” you said softly, voice hushed. “He has wings.” The words escaped before you could smooth your tone. You turned your gaze to Feyre, eyes wide with a hint of shock. “Are—are you all right?” you asked, concern lacing your voice. You knew how risky such births could be, how many mothers—non-winged mothers—lost their lives or their children. The knowledge spilled out in your startled tone, too raw and honest.

As soon as the question left your lips, you caught yourself. This was personal, deeply so, and it might not be your place to ask. A flush warmed your cheeks, and you cleared your throat softly. “I’m sorry,” you murmured quickly, lowering your eyes. “That was intrusive. I didn’t mean—”

Feyre’s smile was gentle, understanding. She shifted Nyx slightly, rocking him in a way that spoke of deep maternal comfort. “It’s all right,” she said quietly, voice kind and steady. “I know it can be dangerous. It was. But I’m fine now—truly.”

She exhaled softly, sharing a glance with Rhysand who offered a reassuring nod. “We had a lot of support, the best healers, and… let’s just say there were extraordinary circumstances that helped.” Feyre’s tone carried quiet resilience, as if acknowledging a trial endured and overcome.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Relief and admiration washed over you. “I’m glad,” you said simply, heartfelt. The image of the tiny, safe baby cradled in Feyre’s arms, half winged and wholly loved, took the sting out of your earlier alarm.

Nyx stirred, letting out a small, contented noise, as if confirming that all was indeed well. And so, in that moment, you allowed yourself to trust in their strength and the healing they had found—together, in this extraordinary court.

The dining table was set with care and elegance, an array of dishes spread like a tapestry of flavors and colors. Feyre had returned after settling Nyx down for the night, and now she sat beside Rhysand, her eyes brighter, freer, as though a weight had lifted from her shoulders. You were seated between Amren and Mor, with Azriel directly across from you. The air hummed with conversation, the gentle clink of silverware, and the faint glow of faelight sconces casting a warm gleam over crystal and china.

The food was beyond anything you’d tasted in recent memory—roasted vegetables drizzled with spiced oils, tender meats seasoned to perfection, a fresh salad of night-blooming flowers and herbs that tasted of moonlit gardens. Between bites, you couldn’t help small hums of appreciation. Mor grinned at your delighted expression, whispering that Feyre and Rhys knew how to choose their cooks wisely. Amren, on your left, merely arched an eyebrow, as if such quality was the norm in this household.

Across the table, Rhysand and Feyre spoke quietly with Azriel about the latest developments with Koshiev’s faction. They didn’t hide the topic, but neither did they elaborate on grim details unnecessarily. Still, the tension was palpable.

Cassian, seated beside Nesta, seemed to pick up on the unease radiating from her. He leaned closer, murmuring something low that drew a reluctant smirk from her lips—a rare crack in her otherwise steely demeanor.

The conversation shifted, soft murmurs filling the dining room as everyone seemed to settle into their own thoughts. But your gaze lingered, drawn to the quiet interactions between Azriel and Elain.

They weren’t doing anything outright inappropriate, of course. Yet the way Azriel leaned slightly toward her, his shadows curling faintly around her seat as though they couldn’t help themselves—it was subtle, but unmistakable. And Elain, for all her delicate, quiet nature, didn’t seem to shy away from him. If anything, the small glances she cast in his direction, the way her hand lingered near his on the table, spoke volumes.

Something was going on between those two. That much you were sure of.

But didn’t she have a mate?

The thought gnawed at you. From what you’d learned during your short time with this group, the bond between mates was supposed to be unbreakable, undeniable. A rare gift—or curse, depending on how one saw it. Yet here was Elain, sitting close to Azriel, her mate nowhere to be found.

You couldn’t help but recall the low, tense conversation you’d overheard between Rhysand and Azriel days ago. Their voices had been hushed, but you’d caught enough to piece together fragments. It had been about Elain, about Azriel’s feelings for her—and about how complicated the whole situation was.

Even tonight, the tension was palpable. Rhysand and Feyre avoided looking too long in Azriel and Elain’s direction, as if their mere proximity might ignite something. Cassian’s joviality had dimmed slightly, and even Mor seemed unusually reserved.

You shifted in your seat, the unease settling in your chest like a stone. Whatever was unfolding here felt like a precarious balancing act, one wrong move away from shattering entirely.

It wasn’t jealousy, you told yourself firmly—because at the end of the day, you barely knew him. Whatever flicker of connection you’d felt when you first crossed paths with Azriel had been just that: a flicker.

Still, you couldn’t entirely ignore the truth you’d kept to yourself. That he was your mate.

You hadn’t planned to speak of it, not now, perhaps not ever. What would be the point? He didn’t seem to know, and you weren’t about to disrupt the fragile balance of this group—or his life—by bringing it up.

But watching him now, seeing the way his gaze softened for Elain, the way his shadows seemed drawn to her as if they couldn’t help themselves... it unsettled you.

You reached for your glass of wine, your fingers tightening slightly around the stem. It wasn’t your place to interfere, nor did you want to. And yet, the sight stirred something uncomfortable in you—an ache you couldn’t quite place, an unease that whispered of things better left buried.

For now, you resolved, you would tread carefully. Whatever this was, it wasn’t your story to tell.

As the conversation ebbed and flowed, you caught snippets of Mor and Feyre discussing the upcoming Solstice celebrations. Their voices carried a mix of excitement and warmth, and even those not directly involved in the planning seemed to lean in slightly, drawn by the festive air.

“Everything’s nearly set,” Mor said with a grin, her golden eyes glimmering. “But I still think we need more lights. You can never have too many.”

Feyre laughed softly, shaking her head. “We’re already bordering on blinding half the Sidra with what we’ve got planned.”

“Exactly,” Mor countered. “Bordering. Not quite there yet.”

The exchange drew a small chuckle from the others, and soon the table was animated with chatter about the Solstice—decorations, food, gifts, the music for the evening. You found yourself listening quietly, a faint smile on your lips as their excitement filled the room.

Then Cassian turned to you, curiosity lighting his hazel eyes. “What about you, Y/N? What are you planning for the Solstice?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Working,” you said simply, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Cassian stared at you, his expression shifting from surprised to faintly unimpressed. “You’re working?” he repeated, as though the concept was completely foreign to him.

You shrugged, taking a sip of your wine. “I gave the night and the day after to the other healers,” you explained matter-of-factly. “They have families to spend it with.”

His blunt stare didn’t waver. “And you don’t?”

The question hung in the air for a beat too long. You didn’t flinch, though. Instead, you gave him a small, wry smile. “Not in the traditional sense,” you replied. “I’ve spent most of my life on the road. Holidays are just... nights like any other to me.”

Mor frowned slightly, her lips parting as though she wanted to say something, but Feyre beat her to it. “You could spend it with us,” she offered warmly, her eyes soft and kind. “If you’re free after your shift, of course.”

You hesitated, glancing around the table at the faces watching you. “That’s kind of you,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter now. “I’ll see how the night goes, but I wouldn’t count on me. Those nights tend to be pretty busy.”

Cassian still didn’t look entirely pleased, but he let the topic drop, turning to Azriel to mutter something under his breath. Across from you, Feyre and Mor resumed their discussion about the preparations, but you noticed the glances they shot your way from time to time.

The Solstice was supposed to be a time of joy, of togetherness. And yet, for you, it had always been a reminder of the distances you’d kept—between yourself and others, between your past and your present. Maybe this year would be different. But you weren’t ready to hope for that just yet.

Nesta, her tone gentle yet curious, asked, “Don’t you have family here in Velaris? Since it’s where you’re from?”

Cassian’s head turned sharply to her, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. He looked like he was about to respond, but you stopped him with a soft smile, silently telling him it was okay.

“It’s fine,” you replied, your voice steady but quieter now, the words laced with a faint melancholy. “My parents passed away when I was still a child. And... it wasn’t exactly a union their families approved of. My father was a High Fae, and my mother was Illyrian.”

The table fell silent, the weight of your admission settling over the group.

Feyre’s expression softened, her brows knitting together as if piecing together what your childhood must have been like. Even Amren’s usually sharp gaze seemed to flicker with a faint glimmer of understanding.

Rhysand leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table, his voice low and thoughtful. “A High Fae and an Illyrian,” he mused, his violet eyes locking onto yours with a knowing look. “That couldn’t have been easy for them—or for you.”

You nodded, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. “It wasn’t. My mother’s family saw her as a traitor for leaving the war-camps. And my father’s family... well, let’s just say they weren’t thrilled about him choosing someone they considered beneath him. They tried to make it work, but the rejection on both sides was... hard.”

Rhysand’s lips curved into a faint, understanding smile tinged with something more—perhaps a trace of his own memories. “My parents were mates,” he said softly. “But even that bond didn’t shield my mother from what she endured because she was Illyrian. My father’s court viewed her as an outsider, no matter that she was his equal in every way.”

You glanced at him, surprised by his willingness to share the parallel. A small, genuine smile tugged at your lips. “Then I suppose you understand better than most.”

He inclined his head. “More than you might think. My mother bore the burdens of being Illyrian with grace, but I saw the way it chipped away at her. The way others refused to see her worth simply because of where she came from.”

The room was quiet for a beat longer, the group absorbing the weight of your shared experiences.

“Did they stay in Velaris?” Nesta asked gently, her voice curious but kind.

“They tried,” you said, your voice softening even more. “Velaris was my mother’s dream. She wanted a place where their love could thrive without the judgment of others. But it wasn’t that simple. My father’s family refused to acknowledge me, and my mother’s kin wanted nothing to do with either of us. They both passed when I was young, so... it’s just been me for a long time.”

Cassian shifted, his hand tightening briefly around his glass. He didn’t say anything, but the tension in his body told you all you needed to know—he hated the thought of you enduring that kind of isolation.

“I’m sorry,” Feyre said quietly, her voice warm with empathy.

You offered her a small smile, the sting of the memory softened by time. “It’s all right. I’ve built my life on my own terms since then. And Velaris... it’s still home.”

Rhysand nodded, his gaze steady. “Velaris is the City of Starlight. But it’s also a sanctuary for those who need it. And no matter what, you’ll always have a place here.”

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, all you could do was nod, your chest tightening with a mix of gratitude and something you couldn’t quite name.

The laughter faded into a comfortable hum, and Rhysand glanced at you again, his tone turning slightly more serious. “Speaking of important matters, are the preparations for your trip to the Dawn Court coming along?”

You nodded, resting your hands on the edge of the table. “It’s going well,” you said. “I’m not rushing, though. The meeting isn’t for a few weeks, so there’s time to finalize everything.”

Azriel, who had been quietly observing, narrowed his eyes slightly. “What meeting?”

You met his gaze evenly. “The head healers of all the courts are gathering to discuss the rising tensions in the world. It’s not something we do often—every ten or twenty years, if that. But given everything that’s been happening lately, it was decided that now’s the time to meet.”

Feyre leaned forward, her brows knitting together in curiosity. “Even though you’ve only recently taken over from Madja, isn’t that going to be... challenging for you?”

Her question was genuine, not unkind, and you offered her a soft smile. “Not as much as you might think,” you replied. “I already know all of them. Either they trained me, or I’ve trained them at some point.”

Cassian let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Well, look at you. The prodigy of Prythian’s healers.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, though the corners of your mouth twitched in amusement. “Hardly. It’s more about connections and trust. It’s easier to work with people when you’ve already built a rapport.”

“True enough,” Rhysand said, his voice thoughtful. “But there’s still a lot of weight in those meetings. Decisions made there could affect countless lives.”

You nodded, meeting his gaze. “I’m aware. That’s why it’s important we all come together now. We have to be prepared for what might come next, no matter where it starts.”

Cassian broke the tension with a grin. “Still betting it’ll be less of a disaster than a High Lords’ meeting?”

Laughter rippled around the table again, and you shrugged with a playful smirk. “I’d say so. We’re less inclined to argue over who’s the most powerful and more focused on practical solutions.”

“Speak for yourself,” Amren muttered dryly. “I’d argue just for fun.”

The table erupted into laughter, the light-heartedness returning as the conversation shifted to lighter topics once more.

Dinner naturally came to an end, and the group shifted to the living room. The atmosphere turned even more relaxed as the evening stretched on. Cups of tea were passed around for some, while others nursed glasses of wine or stronger spirits. The crackle of the fire in the hearth added a cozy backdrop to the low hum of conversation and occasional laughter.

You found yourself sinking into a plush armchair, your fingers wrapped around a warm mug of tea. The soft glow of the firelight played across the room, highlighting the easy camaraderie between everyone. This wasn’t just a group of warriors and leaders—they were a family. Even in their teasing, you could sense the unshakable bonds that connected them, forged by shared history and unwavering loyalty.

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to relax, taking in the sight of them. Feyre and Rhysand were curled up together on a loveseat, Cassian sprawled across a large sofa with Mor perched at the other end, her laughter ringing out as he recounted some likely exaggerated tale. Nesta sat nearby, a book in hand, though her attention occasionally drifted to the conversation.

But as your gaze wandered, you noticed something—or rather, someone—missing. Neither Elain nor Azriel was present. The realization sent a small, unwanted pang through your chest, one you quickly buried. Whatever their reasons for leaving, it wasn’t your concern. It couldn’t be.

When your tea was finished, you placed the empty cup delicately on the table before rising to your feet. “Thank you for the lovely evening,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “But I should head back. There’s still some work I need to wrap up before the night’s over.”

Cassian glanced up from his drink, his grin playful as always. “You’re leaving already? And here I thought Azriel was the workaholic around here, but you might actually be worse.”

His words, though light-hearted, made something twist in your stomach. You tried to brush it off, but then he glanced around the room and added, “Speaking of which... where is Az? Slacking off for once?”

“Leave it, Cassian,” Rhysand interjected smoothly. His voice was calm, but the sharpness in his violet gaze betrayed a flicker of curiosity—or perhaps understanding—as his eyes darted to you. He didn’t press the issue, but the weight of his brief look lingered all the same.

Feyre stood and approached you, her steps fluid and graceful. She wrapped you in a warm hug, her arms firm but gentle. “Thank you for coming,” she said softly. “It was nice having you here. We’ll have to do this again soon.”

You returned the embrace, her kindness settling some of the unease lingering in your chest. “I’d like that,” you replied sincerely, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Cassian’s voice broke through the moment as Feyre stepped back. “You know, if you’re working this late, you might actually give Az a run for his money,” he teased. Then, with a mock thoughtful look, he added, “Though I guess he’s not here to defend his title. Convenient.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Maybe he’s finally taking a well-deserved break,” you said, keeping your tone light as you glanced toward the door.

Rhysand’s gaze followed yours, but he said nothing. The slight quirk of his lips suggested he’d noticed something, but whatever it was, he chose to keep it to himself—for now.

With a final round of goodnights, you stepped out into the cool night air. They were a family, and while you didn’t quite feel like part of it yet, the warmth they’d shown you was undeniable.

As you walked through the quiet streets of Velaris, the crisp night air nipping at your skin, your gaze lifted instinctively to the sky. The stars above were breathtaking—countless pinpricks of light scattered across an endless expanse of velvet black. They seemed so serene, so untouched by the weight of the world below. For a moment, you let yourself be lost in their beauty, your steps slowing as if the universe itself was urging you to pause.

You didn’t notice the tears until a cold droplet slid down your cheek, and then another. Startled, you reached up to brush your fingers against your face, finding your skin wet. Confusion prickled at the edges of your thoughts as you stared at the small drops clinging to your fingertips. You weren’t sad. At least, you didn’t think you were. The evening had been lovely—warm and full of laughter. Yet here you were, crying under the stars.

A hollow ache settled in your chest as you continued walking, the faint echo of your footsteps the only sound in the stillness. You barely knew Azriel. That thought circled your mind like an unrelenting shadow. For all the moments you’d spent stealing glances at him, observing the way he carried himself with quiet strength and grace, there was still so much you didn’t know. So much you might never know.

And then there was the bond. The invisible thread you could feel humming at the edge of your awareness, a constant reminder of something greater, something unasked for. You’d kept it to yourself, not because of secrecy, but because the mere thought of saying it aloud made your stomach twist with apprehension. It wasn’t fair—not to him, not to you.

Forcing a bond on him, on anyone, was the last thing you wanted. Azriel deserved the freedom to choose, the freedom to love without the weight of a bond dictating his path. But even as you told yourself that, a cruel voice in your mind whispered that the bond wasn’t something he would celebrate—not with you as his mate.

What did you have to offer him? Compared to Elain’s gentle beauty and kindness, you felt like a storm—chaotic and unyielding. You’d spent centuries honing your skills, fighting battles, making sacrifices. Vulnerability wasn’t something you knew how to share.

A sharp breath escaped you, your hands curling into fists as your pace quickened. The tears came faster now, silent but persistent, blurring the cobblestones underfoot. It wasn’t sadness, you told yourself again. It was confusion, frustration, maybe even fear.

You weren’t sure when the walls you’d built around yourself had started to crack, but tonight, surrounded by the warmth of the Inner Circle, you’d felt something shift. It wasn’t just about Azriel. It was about family, connection, belonging—things you’d never let yourself hope for, let alone believe you could have.

But as much as you’d enjoyed the night, as much as you’d appreciated their kindness, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider looking in. They cared for each other deeply, their bonds unbreakable. And you? You were just passing through, a healer with a tangled past and an uncertain future.

The stars blurred as fresh tears welled up, and you stopped in your tracks, tilting your head back to let the cool night air soothe your burning cheeks. You didn’t know what you were crying for—what you were mourning. Maybe it was for the family you’d lost long ago, or the life you might have had if things had been different. Maybe it was for the bond you hadn’t asked for but couldn’t ignore.

Or maybe, it was for the fragile hope buried deep within you—the hope that one day, you might find a place where you truly belonged.

——

Azriel’s POV

Azriel exhaled a quiet breath as he stepped into the crisp night air, the faint sounds of the dinner fading behind him. The garden of the townhouse was peaceful, blanketed in a soft glow from the moon above. Elain walked beside him, her delicate frame tucked into a thick coat, her hands gripping the fabric tightly against the chill.

The silence stretched between them, comfortable at first. But as they wandered further down the winding paths, Elain drew closer, her arm brushing his. He glanced at her briefly, noticing the faint pink on her cheeks—not from the cold, but something else.

It was when they reached the edge of the garden, where the view of Velaris spread wide and glittering below, that she finally spoke.

"Azriel," she said softly, her voice hesitant.

He turned to face her, noting the awkward expression on her face, the way her hands twisted nervously in front of her. “What is it?” he asked, his tone calm, though a flicker of concern stirred in his chest.

Elain hesitated, her gaze darting away before meeting his again. “Are you sure...we can trust Y/N?”

Azriel blinked, her question catching him off guard. Of all the things he’d anticipated her saying, this hadn’t been one of them. “Why wouldn’t we?” he asked, frowning slightly.

Elain’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s just...the way she talks, the way she carries herself. There’s something...off about her.”

Azriel tilted his head, studying her closely. He hadn’t missed Y/N’s sharp tongue during the meeting at the House of Wind, but her words had been purposeful, her actions deliberate. If Elain was referring to that, it didn’t make sense for her to hold it against Y/N.

“She was doing her job,” Azriel said carefully, keeping his tone neutral. “If this is about what happened at the House of Wind—”

“It’s not just that,” Elain interrupted, her voice rising slightly before softening again. She looked at him with wide, almost pleading eyes. “You don’t realize the way she spoke to me. The way she...looked at me. It was—” She broke off, shaking her head.

Azriel’s frown deepened. He couldn’t recall Y/N being anything but professional, but Elain’s tone suggested she felt otherwise. Still, he wasn’t one to jump to conclusions without evidence.

“Elain,” he said gently, “what exactly are you saying? Is there something specific that’s made you doubt her?”

She hesitated again, her gaze dropping to the ground. Then, after a moment, she said, “I just...feel like she’s hiding something. A lot of things. And it’s not just her past—it’s her power, Azriel. It’s unsettling. What if she’s here for something else? What if she’s working for Koschei?To attack us from the inside?”

Her voice grew more frantic as she spoke, her words tumbling over one another in a rush of worry.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, though he kept his expression calm. He reached out, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Elain,” he said firmly, his voice a quiet anchor. “You’re overthinking this.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, uncertainty flickering there.

“She’s not here to harm anyone,” Azriel continued. “If she were, we would’ve seen signs by now. And even if there were any truth to your fears, I’m keeping a close eye on her.”

Elain’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t interrupt as he added, “Nothing bad will happen while I’m around. I won’t allow it.”

For a moment, Elain simply looked at him, her expression softening at his words. She nodded slowly, though the tension in her shoulders didn’t completely ease.

“I trust you, Azriel,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel gave her a faint nod, his gaze steady. But as they turned to head back toward the townhouse, a shadow of doubt lingered in his mind—not about Y/N, but about the seeds of mistrust Elain had tried to plant.

Elain bid Azriel a soft goodnight, her steps retreating up the stairs until they faded entirely. Azriel lingered in the quiet of the garden for a moment longer, the chill of the night seeping into his skin as he let his mind turn over her words. Doubt, no matter how unwarranted, was a dangerous thing to sow.

Pushing the thoughts aside, he made his way back to the living room. Feyre, Mor, and Nesta were nowhere to be seen, their laughter and conversations long gone. Only Rhysand and Cassian remained, seated comfortably with drinks in hand.

“There he is,” Cassian said with a smirk, raising his glass. “Thought you’d vanished into the shadows for good this time.”

Azriel ignored the jab, heading straight for the sideboard. He poured himself a generous glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the firelight, and crossed the room to join them. He lowered himself into one of the armchairs, cradling the glass in his hand before taking a long sip.

“You missed the part where we solved all the world’s problems,” Cassian quipped, but there was a lightness to his tone.

Azriel shot him a look but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he turned to Rhysand, his expression thoughtful. “Did you know about Y/N being half Illyrian and half High Fae?”

Rhysand raised a brow, leaning back in his seat. “Madja mentioned it to me when I first spoke with her about Y/N, but beyond that, no. Y/N hasn’t shared much about her personal life—at least not with me.”

Azriel frowned slightly, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “She’s been...secretive.”

“That’s not surprising,” Rhysand said, his voice calm. “She’s lived a long life, Azriel. People who’ve endured as much as she likely has aren’t quick to share their scars.”

Cassian shrugged, setting his empty glass on the table with a faint clink. “It’s not uncommon, though, is it? Half Illyrians without wings? The camps might not like to talk about it, but it happens more often than they’d admit.”

Azriel’s shadows curled faintly around his shoulders, his gaze distant. “It’s not just that. She’s...different. There’s a weight to her that’s hard to ignore.”

Rhysand regarded him carefully, his violet eyes sharp. “What are you trying to say, Az?”

Azriel hesitated, the words forming slowly. “She doesn’t seem like someone who’s just here to replace Madja or take up the work of healing. There’s more to her, something she’s not saying.”

Rhysand nodded thoughtfully. “She’s a healer, yes, but she’s also a warrior. And from what I’ve gathered, she’s someone who’s fiercely loyal to those she chooses to protect. That doesn’t mean she owes us every detail of her life.”

Cassian leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “It’s not like we’ve shared all our dirty laundry with her either. Hell, Az, you’ve been watching her like a hawk since she got here, and she hasn’t so much as flinched. If she were hiding something dangerous, don’t you think she’d have slipped up by now?”

Azriel didn’t respond immediately, his shadows whispering quietly in his ears. He took another sip of whiskey, letting the burn settle in his throat.

“I’m not saying she’s a threat,” he said finally. “But there’s something...unsettling about not knowing where she stands. Especially now, with everything happening in Prythian.”

Rhysand sighed, his expression softening. “You’re not wrong to be cautious, Az. But until she gives us a reason to doubt her, we owe her the benefit of the doubt. She’s earned that much through her work alone.”

“Relax, brother,” Cassian said with a chuckle. “Not everyone is out to stab us in the back. Besides, if she wanted to, she’s had plenty of chances.”

The conversation lulled, the crackling of the fire filling the silence. Azriel leaned back in his chair, the whiskey warming him from the inside out. Despite Cassian’s teasing and Rhysand’s reassurances, the unease in his chest didn’t fully fade.

He’d keep watching. Just in case.

Rhysand shifted in his seat, his sharp gaze settling on Azriel. His expression was calm, but there was a note of seriousness in his voice as he spoke. “Maybe it’s time for you to look elsewhere, brother. To seek someone who could truly bring you peace.”

Azriel sighed heavily, the sound filled with equal parts exhaustion and frustration. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, staring into it as if the whiskey held answers he couldn’t find.

Cassian, never one to miss an opportunity, smirked. “You know, Az, Rhys might actually have a point for once. The world won’t end if you let yourself—”

Azriel’s sharp glare cut him off, but it was Rhysand who pressed on, his tone gentle but firm. “Listen, brother, I’m not here to tell you how to live your life or whom to care for. But Lucien is coming back to Velaris for the Solstice, and I don’t want you to—”

Azriel’s head snapped up, and his voice was cold and clipped as he interrupted. “You didn’t have to invite him.”

Rhysand’s brows rose slightly, but his voice remained steady. “He is her mate, Azriel. Whether we like it or not, that bond exists. Ignoring it won’t make it disappear.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his shadows curling more protectively around him. “I’m well aware of that, Rhys. But you didn’t need to bring him here. Solstice is for family.”

Cassian leaned forward slightly, holding up a hand as if to diffuse the tension. “Alright, let’s all take a deep breath. It’s been a long day, and we don’t need to—”

“I don’t need your advice,” Azriel snapped, cutting him off as well. His voice was calm but laced with a quiet, simmering anger. He stood, setting his glass down with more force than necessary. “I’m grown enough to make my own decisions, and I don’t need either of you meddling in my personal life.”

Rhysand’s violet eyes followed Azriel carefully, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them. But he didn’t press further, simply nodding once.

Cassian leaned back in his chair, muttering under his breath, “Well, that went well.”

Azriel didn’t respond, his shadows coiling around him as he turned and left the room. He felt their eyes on him as he walked away, but he didn’t look back.

As he stepped into the cool night air, the weight of their words still lingered. His chest felt tight, his thoughts a tangled mess of anger, guilt, and something he couldn’t quite name. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. Or maybe he did, and that was the problem.

----

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swappingbryn · 10 months ago

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It’s Your Soul, Cry If You Want To

We’d been on several dates, had never had sex, she kept saying she was old fashioned and didn’t want to rush. However, she finally agreed to stay the night and as you were getting ready, pumped up if you will, when his insecurities got the better of him.

I wasn’t ugly, and had sent a picture of myself, but I knew I could look better, I wasn’t short, but just being average FEELS short, and my dick was fine, but bigger is always better. I knew I couldn’t change any of this, I just wish I had all these ideal qualities. I sighed “I wish I was that version of myself.”

Suddenly, a cloud of blue smoke swirled in front of me, solidifying into a tall, horned man.

“Mortal, I will grant you anything you desire, but there is a price, the only question is, are you willing to pay it?” He questioned.

“What? Who are you?” I replied.

“Who, rather what, I am matters not. What matters is what you want and what you’ll pay for it” he answered while waving a hand. I went to protest, but suddenly felt the need to not ask anymore questions.

“I have a big date, and I really like her, but I don’t know if she’ll like me. I just want to be different, like the best version of me.” I said.

“I can do that for you. Make you taller, better looking, muscular, more endowed, even richer, smarter, and can even guarantee she will like you. But that is not free.” It replied.

“What will it cost me? I don’t have much money.” I told him.

“I have no need for money, and I’m offering YOU wealth. What I want is your soul.” As he said this I recoiled, “But worry not, you will retain most of it for the rest of your life, I will only claim it after you’ve lived a long, healthy life. You’ll have fifty good years living as the best possible version of yourself, happy, with a loving wife and large family. All you give is the time after you die.” He finished.

“I can’t, this is so wrong.” I quickly said.

“I understand, I will leave you.” And with that, he swirled back into a cloud of smoke. As he was vanishing, I couldn’t help myself.

“Wait, I accept” I yelled.

The blue cloud enveloped me and then solidified again, but everything was different. My apartment was larger, filled with nicer things, better view, my clothes were nicer, I was taller and could feel my mind running faster, and a heavy weight in my pants.

He snapped his fingers and a speck of light, smaller than the head of a match, flew out of me. It hovered in the air until he took a deep, magically deep breath, almost like a vacuum sucking it into him. He held that breath for a long time, and as he did, his body changed.

As he held that breath, his horns receded into his head, his skin turned a human shade of tanned white, he looked almost normal, except the eyes, his eyes stayed eerily golden. After what seemed like hours, but was really less than a minute, he exhaled, and then his eyes changed to blue, the same shade mine are, or were, as it looks like mine turned a dull brown.

He walked out of my penthouse apartment, looking entirely human now. Showing off his body, acting cocky and sure of himself.

“See you later bro, not too soon, I think you have, hmm, fifty seven years. I hope you enjoy your new life. Don’t worry, to everyone else, this has always been this way, so you don’t need to be afraid of people noticing.” And with that, he left.

Thank you @swapsrus for suggesting this model.

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pumpkinbxtch · 10 months ago

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thrill me &

i'll take you to a ride ✷

— leo valdez x daughter of hades!reader

summary: Sometimes things happen when you let yourself get excited and you are a daughter of Hades. Warnings: none

Your relationship with Leo was very new. You were in that awkward stage where both of you blushed constantly when your fingers tried to interlace or one of you longed for the other's hug, that phase where you couldn't express your desires and hesitated when it came to showing them. This was most evident when you kissed.

However, for you, it involved a bit more than just worrying about appearing clumsy; sometimes, your powers could play tricks on you. Being a child of the big three already made things messy due to strong emotions, now being a daughter of Hades like you, where you spent your time repressing your emotions to avoid bringing the dead to the surface or ending up in China like your brother Nico, made everything even more complicated by itself.

It would be simpler if only your palms sweated, and you could be enjoying being with your boyfriend on a beautiful day in the strawberry field while Leo and you were having a kissing session on a picnic blanket. While both were craving for touch everything was going wonderfully.

The big deal was when Leo put his hand on your waist to pull you closer to him, that simple move made your heart race and lose control, that's when you felt your surroundings change and the overwhelming sensation of being sucked into darkness.

You panicked, felt embarrassed, but you clung to your boyfriend's hand tightly. If it weren't for the spins and Leo feeling like he had just been thrown from a first floor, he might have plead you to let go of his hand before you broke it with the force you were holding it. Although to be honest, you wouldn't have done it even if he begged, you couldn't let anything else happen to him because of you. Amid what seemed like an imminent darkness, another hole opened up, and gravity forced you to fall face-first into an alley.

Your boyfriend's groans made you blush, you wanted to disappear, but if you thought about it for a second more, it probably would happen, and you were tired of that shadow travel already. You rolled onto your side and avoided facing Leo, still lying in the street feeling like a loser, you didn't even have an idea of where they were.

— baby, are you okay? — Leo crawled towards you, and you bit your lower lip. You would have bothered to run if it weren't for your tiredness. You yawned and slowly sat up, hair falling in your face and hands covered in dust. With a slight breeze, the climate change was noticeable to you.

He took you by the shoulders, helping you sit up completely, him squatting and you sitting on the pavement. He sighed seeing you unharmed but curiosity lingered in his gaze. You hugged yourself, hoping it would give you strength to speak. You already felt your cheeks burning and your face forming a grimace of discomfort.

— Sorry, did I... get carried away?.— Leo grinned like an idiot, and chuckled while shaking his head slowly. He fixed your hair and tucked some strands behind your ear, his sweet touch made you sway sleepily. He noticed.

— Did my girl overdo it? — Despite the obvious teasing in his voice, the words comforted you, making you feel less guilty because that's exactly what Leo wanted, he didn't blame you for anything, he wasn't even upset, he was just taken by surprise.

— Sorry — you repeated with pleading eyes. Leo gently took you by the back of the neck and pressed his lips against your forehead, barely touching your skin.

—It's okay, amor. Let's see where we are — he murmured and helped you to your feet, holding your body tightly so you could put most of your weight on him.

Your eyes widened, and sleep left you for a second when you noticed that the signs seemed to be in another language, the streets were too different and narrow.

— I've been here — he said, admiring his surroundings, reaffirming his grip on your hand. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to continue, and he began to walk with you down the alley until you reached the widest part. You admired the architecture in better detail, the blue sky, and the people. You were no longer in Long Island Sound.

—'ll tell our kids that you kidnapped me to go on a trip together to Italy — Leo joked, and you felt your ears burning.

He looked at you with those chocolate eyes that turned gold in the sunlight. You silently admired how his tanned skin shimmered or the small wrinkles that formed when he smiled, everything about him seemed perfect. Of course in the future you would want to have his children.

— Dork — you accused him, unable to hide that typical way of yours of disguising embarrassment, he let out a small laugh. Leo loved that about you. He cleared his throat, it was a little dry from yelling.

— Well, but anyway, after we take a walk and enjoy this nice place because we would be idiots not to. I wonder... — He leaned towards you, teasingly, his thumb rubbing your palm. — How will I have to 'thrill' you to come back?

#leo valdez #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x y/n #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians

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queenshelby · 1 year ago

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Forbidden Desire (Part 14)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest (at this stage accidental), Age Gap, PTSD, Domestic Abuse, Self-Harm, Fluff, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

The following morning however, when you arrived at the factory office, Tommy was waiting for you, sitting behind his large wooden desk.

His presence filled the room, commanding attention and respect. He wore his usual attire: a dark suit, white shirt, and tie, accentuating his powerful physique.

As you walked towards him, you couldn't help but admire the raw masculinity that radiated from him. His muscular frame, piercing eyes, and rugged good looks made him truly irresistible. The sight of him brought back memories of the past, the passionate encounter that had left you aching for more.

But, his face was nothing but stern as he looked up at you.

"Come, sit," he said bluntly as he gave you an order

rather than an invitation. Tommy’s commanding tone sent a thrill through you, reminding you of the raw power that radiated from him. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you wanted to be so close to him right now, but you complied nonetheless.

As you sat down, Tommy's gaze remained steady, unwavering, as though he was trying to read your thoughts.

"You are a Shelby now, whether you like it or not. And as a Shelby, you do not associate yourself with men like Liam O'Connor," your uncle explained and your pulse quickened as he spoke, feeling the weight of his words as anger rose from deep within you.

"Are you jealous Tommy or are you actually of the view that, as a Shelby, I cannot walk with a man of my choosing?" you queried with a hint of defiance in your voice.

"And why would I be jealous, eh? You are my fucking niece,"

he retorted, his eyes flashing with anger and possessiveness.

The tension in the room escalated as the two of you locked gazes, the intensity of your feelings for one another undeniable.

"I am your niece, yes, but some time ago, I was also your lover," you challenged, your voice low and measured, conveying a sense of power and control.

Tommy's expression hardened, his jaw clenching tightly. "What happened between us then doesn't change anything," he growled, clearly struggling with his emotions.

"No, it doesn't and that is exactly why you need to stay out of my private affairs, Thomas," you agreed, maintaining eye contact, refusing to be intimidated by his dominance.

His demeanour shifted, becoming less hostile as he sighed deeply, acknowledging your statement. "Alright, fine. But remember that the men I employ work for me for a reason. They are dangerous men, Y/N. Liam O'Connor is one of them and, I do no longer trust him now that he has taken an interest in you," Tommy explained after having slept on Polly's revelations and admissions.

His declaration hung heavily in the air, a threat and a promise rolled into one. It stirred a mix of emotions within you - fear, excitement, and longing.

"You still want me, don't you?" your words echoed throughout the room, causing a chill to run down his spine. There was a pause as both of you took in the gravity of your statement. Tommy's eyes narrowed as he studied your face intently, searching for any signs of deception. His expression turned thoughtful as he considered your question.

"It doesn't matter what I want Love. You are family and I need to protect you," Tommy determined with a sigh.

"I can protect myself, Tommy!" you argued, determination etched on your features. "I'm not some fragile flower who needs to be shielded from harm." Your defiance only seemed to fuel his determination to protect you.

"You may think you're stronger than you are, but the truth is, we all need someone to watch our backs, eh," he replied with a steely resolve. "You are my responsibility, whether you like it or not and unless you want me to tell my brother about your relationship with Liam O'Connor, I want to know when you are going to see him next, eh," Tommy told you firmly, his eyes boring into yours.

There was silence in the room, as you processed his words. Despite your resolve, you were beginning to realize that he was serious about his warning.

"Tonight... I am seeing him tonight," you told him, looking downcast and fueled with anger. The mere mention of informing your father about Liam made you feel uneasy, knowing how he would react upon finding out about your dalliance.

"Where?" Tommy asked, clearly satisfied with your response.

"At my house," you admitted, feeling a mixture of guilt and frustration welling up inside you.

"I will have your house watched by men who can be trusted, just in case, eh," Tommy stated matter-of-factly, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Fine," you conceded, unable to argue further.

You knew that despite your resistance, Tommy's protective instincts ran deep, and there was little point in trying to change his mind. He needed to ensure you stayed safe, even if it meant encroaching on your personal life.

"You may go now," Tommy eventually told you with a note of finality in his voice and the room fell silent once again, as you stood up and prepared to leave.

A heavy burden weighed on your shoulders as you realized the precarious situation you found yourself in. The complexities of your relationships with Tommy and Liam threatened to consume you. How could you balance these competing forces without succumbing to the whims of either man?

***

On your way home, your thoughts drifted to the events of the evening. A surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins as you anticipated your meeting with Liam.

Part of you was excited by the forbidden nature of your secret rendezvous, while another part of you felt consumed by guilt, knowing that you were still deeply in love with Tommy. You recalled the passionate moments you shared with him, wondering if they could ever be rekindled.

Arriving at your house, you carefully checked the area before letting yourself in. Your heart raced as you imagined Tommy's men watching from the shadows, their cold stares following your every move.

It was awkward to know that you were being watched, yet there was also a sense of safety that came with Tommy's protection. He may be harsh and domineering, but deep down, you knew he cared for you.

Liam was already waiting for you when you entered your house, looking eager and slightly nervous.

"Fuck, how did you get inside?" you asked, surprised to see him sitting on your lounge, sipping whiskey.

"Your mother let me in before she left," Liam explained, his eyes glinting with darkness.

"How do you know my mother?" you asked, suspiciously trying to gauge his intentions.

"I don't. But she saw Tommy's men outside and realised that I was one of them," Liam explained before advising you that, by now, Tommy's men would have left.

"He asked them to watch you, because of me, didn't he?" Liam questioned, his tone laced with subtle aggression. You nodded silently, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you acknowledged the fact.

"There is something you should know about me, Y/N," Liam began, his voice taking on a deeper timbre. "I don't take kindly to anyone interfering in my affair, and that includes Thomas Shelby," he went on to say angrily, his gaze fixed on you, his intent clear.

"Listen, Liam," you tried to calm him down, but he wouldn't be pacified as, instead, he approached you, laying his claim.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered tenderly, his hand caressing your cheek. "Don't let him come between us," he implored, his desire evident in his eyes.

You couldn't help but be swayed by his earnestness, his determination to stand against the seemingly insurmountable obstacle of your relationship with Tommy.

"Why should I believe you?" you asked, testing his sincerity.

"Because I am ready to fight for you, Y/N," he assured you, his voice full of conviction. "And together with the help of my acquaintance, Michael Gray, we can take over the family business,"

Liam continued, his eyes bright with ambition.

You hesitated, absorbing his words. It was the first time he had spoken about this alliance openly, and you couldn't ignore the looming presence of your uncle and the power he held over you.

"But what about Tommy and Arthur?" you questioned, genuinely concerned about the consequences of your actions.

"I don't care about them. They are two spent horses," Liam responded, his tone bordering on aggressive.

"Does Polly know about this?" you wondered aloud, your brow furrowing.

"Polly knows nothing," Liam insisted, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. "She would tell Tommy if she knew. We need to play our cards right." he suggested, and you could not believe what you were hearing.

"This is why you pursued me isn't it?" you probed further, seeking clarification while wondering where Tommy's men were at this point.

They were meant to be watching your house, but you felt as though they were neglecting their duties as, all of a sudden, Liam reached for your wrists.

His touch made you anxious, leaving you vulnerable. "What are you doing?" you asked, trying to remain calm as his attitude changed.

Liam took your hand in his, his grip strong and steady. "We are more than capable of seizing power from those who seek to control us," he said with confidence. "Thomas Shelby may hold power now, but it won't last forever. If we unite together, we can create something new, something better," he said, his voice dark and authoritative.

You looked around your house, thinking about a way to escape, but there was none. Your heart was racing, and your heart was spinning as you realized Liam's true intentions.

You understood now why he had pursued you relentlessly, using every charm and resource at his disposal. He wanted to make you fall in love with him so he could use your newfound affection to secure a position within the family business. It was a cruel twist of fate that put you in this predicament.

Liam watched you warily, his expression a mix of determination and anticipation. Taking a deep breath, you summoned all your courage and faced him squarely.

"So, you think that if I fall in love with you, I would help you make a move against my father and uncle?” you queried, your voice laced with disbelief.

"Yes, and I also believe that once we are together, we can form a powerful alliance and, together with Michael Gray and his wife, we can take over the business," Liam responded confidently, unaware of the trap he had set for himself.

Stunned by his audacity, you took a step back, processing his words. The truth was undeniably painful as Liam had used you to manipulate his way into your family, and you, unknowingly, had played right into his hands.

Your heart pounded violently against your ribcage, and you felt nauseous from the shock of the revelation.

“Marry me Y/N, and help us take over,” Liam's words continued to echo in your ears, reminding you of his cold, calculating nature.

"I am not going to marry you, Liam!" you gasped, fury and betrayal coursing through your veins. "And even if I ever was to consider marrying someone, it certainly wouldn't be you!" you ought to point out, fuelling Liam's anger.

Anger flaring in his eyes, Liam leaned closer, challenging you with his stare. "Is that so? Then perhaps you should reconsider your options, Y/N. Because if you don't cooperate, it won't bode well for you,” he threatened you.

Your heart raced, fearing the worst. "What do you mean?" you asked, attempting to maintain your composure.

"Are you threatening me, Liam?" you ought to clarify, albeit knowing the answer.

"Not at all," he replied, his tone eerily calm. "But I cannot guarantee that your father would put a bullet into his brother's head if he ever found out about your intimate relations with your Uncle Tommy," Liam exclaimed, his eyes narrowing. "Now, unless you change your mind, I will be forced to take matters into my own hands and have a word with the rest of the Shelby Family, disclosing your incestuous liaisons. Maybe the papers would take an interest in this too, seeing that Tommy is running for politics now," he went on to say, knowing that this could well and truly destroy the family business.

His warning sent shivers down your spine, causing you to realize the extent of the danger you were in. You trembled slightly, realizing the precarious position you were in.

"Do not threaten me, Liam! What do you expect me to do?" you asked, your voice quivering with fear.

"Simple," he replied coldly. "Marry me and help me and Michael take over," he repeated, and your heart plummeted into your stomach as you processed his demand. “Your Shelby name is what I need. It’s worth something,” he went on to say, causing you to shake your head again in disbelief.

Marriage? To this man? You couldn't possibly submit to such a life, bound to someone so cruel and selfish. Your resolve strengthened, and you spoke firmly, determined not to succumb to his threats.

"No, Liam. I will not marry you not only because of your despicable tactics but also because I simply cannot bring myself to love you. I will see Tommy about this, and I already know what he will do to you if he finds out about your threat," you told him sternly, frustration and fury lacing your voice.

His face clouded over with anger; his jaw clenched tightly. His hands shook, betraying his rage, as he tried to control his temper. Within seconds, he reached for your throat, grabbing it tightly with one hand. Fear flooded your body, your heart racing wildly as he squeezed harder. You gasped for air, tears streaming down your cheeks as he choked you.

"You will not fuck me over Y/N!" Liam cursed as his grip tightened, and you knew that he had every intention to kill you by this point, so you kicked and screamed.

"Stop! Please!" you gasped loudly, trying to fight Liam off and alarm anyone outside.

“Scream as much as you like. Tommy’s outside are dead,” Liam informed you, choking you harder as suddenly, amongst your struggles, you heard the sound of the door opening, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching rapidly.

You heard Tommy's voice shouting, full of rage, "Let go of her!" he yelled angrily, causing Liam to startle momentarily before tightening his grip on your neck.

By this point, Liam’s eyes flashed with murderous intent, almost ignoring Tommy's presence until Tommy approached him from behind, trying to pull him away from you with force.

Eventually, Liam let go of you, and you dropped to the ground. A fight broke out, and Liam drew his gun, raising it and aiming it straight at Tommy.

This caused you to panic as you knew there was no time to reason with him. Desperate, you lunged toward Liam, hoping to grab the gun from his grasp.

But, before you could act, Tommy pulled his gun and fired, the loud boom deafening the room. Liam dropped to the floor, blood seeping from the wound. With a chilling final glare, he lost consciousness.

Tommy was covered in blood, but the blood he was covered in was not his own.

You crawled towards him on the blood-soaked floor, your heart pounding in your chest. Tommy grabbed you by the arm, pulling you to your feet. The room was deathly silent as you watched the gruesome scene unfold before you.

Your heart hammered in your chest, the horror of witnessing Liam's demise etched into your memory forever. As your gaze met Tommy's, you saw the mixture of relief and concern reflected in his eyes.

"You shot him?" you barely managed to say, your voice merely above a whisper.

"Of course, I fucking shot him, Love. He fucking deserved it, eh" Tommy said roughly, his eyes hard and unforgiving.

The room went quiet, save for the ticking of the clock on the wall, as everyone processed the implications of Liam's demise. You felt Tommy's strong arms wrap around you, offering comfort and protection.

"I did not know about his intentions, Tommy! I really did not fucking know," you cried, your body trembling as you clung to your uncle, desperately seeking solace in his arms. You held onto him fiercely, your fingers digging into his muscular shoulders, as you both stood amidst the carnage that had befallen you all.

Inside, you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline as you realized how close you had come to losing Tommy, the man who had always been there for you, offering support and love despite your connection.

It was at times like these that you understood the depth of your feelings for him, and you yearned to confess those feelings openly.

Tommy, still holding you tightly, looked down at you with a mixture of love and concern in his eyes. "You couldn't have known, Love, and it doesn't matter now. It's going to be okay, eh," he murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"How did you know to come?" you asked while cupping Tommy's blood-stained face.

Your heart ached, and you could feel a tear forming in the corner of your eye. This was not how you wanted things to end, but it seemed like fate had taken hold of your life yet again.

"Moss informed me of the carnage Liam left on First Lane. He shot two of my men, so I came here as quickly as I could,’ Tommy explained with a heavy sigh, the exhaustion evident in his tone.

"Thank you,” you barely managed to say while Tommy’s hold on you tightened.

"I thought I would fucking lose you, Y/N," he told you while cupping your face with his blood-stained hands.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of love and concern resonating within them. You realized then just how deep your feelings for him ran, longing to express them openly but knowing that this wasn't the time or place. Embracing you tightly, Tommy looked down at you with a mixture of love and concern in his eyes.

Then, Tommy's voice deepened, his warm breath ghosting across your ear as he spoke. ”There is something I need to tell you," he said gently.

"What do you want to tell me?" you asked cautiously, bracing yourself for whatever he might reveal.

Tommy took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before speaking. "Alright, here it goes," he began before inhaling again sharply while your heart thumped wildly in your chest, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

Then, Tommy's brow furrowed, his expression becoming intense. "I still love you," he admitted, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice. "And I promise you, I will find a way to make it up to you, eh?” he said. His words were honest and filled with sincerity, warming your heart even more.

Suddenly, you found yourself being lifted into Tommy's arms, his strong embrace making you feel safe once more. The room felt smaller now, just the two of you, surrounded by the echoes of your past mistakes. "You should never have to experience any pain for my sake," he continued his voice low and tender.

As Tommy spoke, your heart raced faster, feeling the intensity of his embrace. The world seemed to melt away, leaving you alone with him. In his arms, you felt a sense of safety and belonging and, despite the gravity of the situation, a wave of relief swept through you as you acknowledged your feelings for Tommy, recognizing the bond that connected you.

"I know why you did what you did, Tommy," you told him before closing your eyes and leaning against his broad chest, allowing the warmth of his body to envelop you, the strength of his arms providing a refuge.

"And I forgave you for it some time ago, but I couldn't forget. I couldn't forget about you, the kisses, the sex, everything we shared," you admitted, and a silence fell upon the room as you allowed your words to sink in. Slowly, the corners of Tommy's mouth curved upwards, a small smile emerging, betraying his emotions.

Without words, he lifted up your chin, making you look at him before brushing his lips against yours, tender and reassuring.

"Out of all the women in this world, I have to fall in love with my fucking niece, eh," Tommy smirked after pulling back slightly, eyes locking with yours as they filled with unspoken promises.

"Yes, Uncle Tommy. I am your fucking niece, and you can't tell me that the thought of this doesn't arouse you just a tiny little bit," you teased before Tommy lowered his head again, this time pressing his lips firmly against yours. It was a passionate, almost savage kiss that left you breathless. Every nerve ending in your body lit up with pleasure, sending electric currents coursing through your veins.

The atmosphere in the room shifted drastically, growing increasingly erotic as the sexual tension between you two escalated. , He bent his head down to press a light kiss on your forehead, the warmth of his lips sending shivers down your spine. "It does arouse me," he murmured softly, his voice thick with emotion. “A little bit,” he then added as you both stood there, covered in blood.

Unable to resist, you leaned in closer, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss once more. The world seemed to fade away, and nothing else mattered except the undeniable passion that ignited between you both.

Your kisses grew deeper, more urgent as you both tried to convey the intensity of your feelings through your touch. Your hands roamed over his muscular back, tracing the lines of his sculpted torso. You revelled in the power of his embrace, relishing the way his strong arms wrapped around you, protecting you from the world outside.

He pressed his lips against yours, his tongue dancing teasingly with yours. His hands roamed down your waist, drawing you closer and bringing your hips flush against his. As your hips moved rhythmically, Tommy's hand travelled lower, slipping beneath your dress to cup your derrière. You gasped softly, feeling the pressure of his palm against your sensitive flesh. With each passing moment, you grew more aroused, unable to resist the urge to explore the contours of his body, even in this somewhat inappropriate situation.

As your lips captured each other's, you felt the intensity of his passion surge through your core until Tommy finally pulled away.

"I will call Johnny Dogs to clean up this mess, eh?" Tommy suggested, seeing that you still had to deal with the dead body in your house, which, at least for the past five minutes, you had ignored entirely.

"Where am I going to stay tonight?" you asked almost teasingly, a small grin forming on your lips before you handed Tommy your phone, and he made the call.

"You will be staying with me, Love," Tommy told you firmly after having made contact with Johnny, his blue eyes filled with resolve.

He knew that there was no safer place for you than under his roof, especially after the events of tonight.

"And what will you do to me, at your house, Uncle Tommy?" you teased, letting your voice drop seductively. You let your hand slide down his chest, brushing along his hard abs before stopping at the button of his trousers.

"Well, first of all, I will get you cleaned up," he replied huskily, his eyes darkening with desire.

"And then, I will probably fuck you, that is, if you are a good girl and behave yourself, eh?" he replied with a playful wink, his hand moving underneath your dress, grazing the soft skin of your inner thigh.

You laughed, taking Tommy's hand in yours and placing it against your throbbing core. "I think I can manage to behave myself, Uncle Tommy," you responded seductively, arching your back to press your breasts against his chest. "Just make sure to remind me of your threats when the time comes," you added with a devilish grin.

Tommy's eyes twinkled with amusement and lust, and he pulled you closer, his large hands wrapping around your waist.

"Trust me Love, I will do more than just remind you of my threats," Tommy teased, a devilish glint in his eyes.

As your bodies swayed together, you couldn't help but marvel at the connection between you both. There was an undeniable chemistry that had always existed between you two, one that transcended the boundaries of blood relations.

"Now, let's go before more coppers get here, eh?" Tommy commanded, his deep voice resonating through you.

His fingers laced with yours, leading you out of the room and towards the staircase.

The atmosphere in the house was eerie, almost as if the air itself held a secret. Your eyes scanned the dimly lit hallways, searching for signs of danger or witnesses who may have seen what happened. As you passed through the grand entrance hall, Tommy guided you towards the exit, the cool night air greeting you as you stepped outside. He helped you into his car, ensuring that you were comfortable before starting the engine. The streets were deserted, casting a sombre shadow over the city.

"So, what happens to the body?" you asked as Tommy drove off into the night, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

"That's not your concern, Love. My men will take care of it," he replied gruffly, a faint trace of unease crossing his face.

"It sure sounds like you have done this before," you commented with a raised eyebrow, catching Tommy's hesitation.

"You know I have," he answered simply, his tone betraying a hint of darkness. "And don't ask questions you wouldn't want answers to, eh?" Tommy's warning was clear, yet you didn't back down, instead choosing to remain silent and let the conversation trail off.

"I still love you," you teased with a soft laugh, knowing full well how much Tommy craved your affection.

"Good," Tommy smirked arrogantly as he parked his car near his house. "Because I'm not letting you go again,” he announced as your gaze met his, the intensity of your feelings for each other palpable as you exchanged looks that seemed to hold entire universes within them. This wasn't merely a physical attraction; it was something far more profound, an undeniable connection that defied logic and reason.

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ace-of-gay · 2 years ago

Text

I currently dont have a masterlist set up for this collection but i hope you enjoy this none the less, this will eventually be posted on ao3 but i dont have an account currently

Not betad or edited

Warnings: age regression, self neglect (not eating, not sleeping, etc.) slight panicked reader but not nearly enough to be a full warning, reader is a half ghoul half human cause this is my interpretation of a fantasy universe <3, cuddles!!!

age regression is a coping that can both voluntary and/or involuntary it is entirely safe and reccomended by therapists if they believe it would be effective for said person but as mentioned for some people it is entirely unpredictable, if this makes you uncomfortable please carry on thank you <3

This was originally written for my best friend so keep in mind this is our dream and thoughts and may not fit well into the ghost universe

Word count: 2,025 words

Nameless ghouls and papa copia taking care of half ghoul reader

Having spent a restless night wasnt uncommon for your or any of the ghouls, especially when seasons and elements were changing, you spent a good few weeks of the tour in your element but the farther and farther you traveled to bring enlightenment to others around the world the more the weather seemed to shift, this most recent nights travel not only took you to a new scene and new spirit of buzzing thrill but a stiffened weight of being completely out of your element, while yes it effects all ghouls it affected you far different.

Being part ghoul meant you weren't as aware of your instincts so feeling them shift always left you in a silent suffocating shock.

With so much bustle amongst the ghouls, papa having a chipper edge to his seemingly endless worries it kept the team heightened and moving, preparing and running through the setlist, this will be the biggest show yet in a city youre entirely new to.

You hid the encroaching feeling well, never once had any of the ghouls questions any difference to your demeanor; having one responsibility after another kept you busy all day nevery staying in one area for long, earbuds in and mask upon your dome, it was same as others methods of preparing just more secluded and in your zone, if there were any changes in anything at all papa, the ghouls and ghoulettes knew that they could calmly inturupt you in your flow.

Listening to every part of the setlist through the literal audio versions of it, everything on the outside seemed normal to everyone but the electric vibrations in your joints and dull ache in your head told you plenty, to the others you were staying silent to save your voice for later so to speak but to you the weight of speaking was way heavier than your desire to ask for help or for rest.

With the show quickly approaching and you having forgotten to eat you downed not one but two energy drinks, spiking youre adrenaline temporarily in hopes itd get you through the show.

All you had to do was get through the night off of artificial energy and true passion for others joy. Just like the full ghouls you spent your time during the show in your human form but unlike them you had a harder time forcing it to stay when you were exhausted.

Papa copia unbeknownst to you had his eye on you, hes the only one who saw you this morning, the deep bags under your eyes and your ghoulish grey having a pale green seemingly sickly color easily masked by your helmet, if all went well youd rest for extra tonight but he didn't see that being the only end to the night.

《~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~》

You were a fan favorite, when you weren't singing backup vocals you were running around stage with your hagstorm base shredding in duos with swiss, bursts of fire being shot upwards, the only time you stay away from the edge of the stage, the light from the fire glinting against the slightly matte chrome picguard, just enough to catch you right in the eye blurring your vision with a blinding flash.

to the congregation watching below your jolts you send into moving your bass guitar looked like flare but for you it was sheer panic, the blinding flash was just enough to put you on the edge of tipping into a deeply unwanted headspace at the moment.

prancing over to where mountain is perched at his drums you take yourself out of the limelight and hide yourself in the downcast shadows from his drums, with the last three chords being extended for showmanship you give a desperate glance to papa with hope that he'll see your glance, and such he does.

You station yourself once more at your mic, you stum the starting chords and belt out backup vocals for the final song, your throat aches as your human form is slipping, your eyes having small flickers of change and a small stumble thankfully met with a stomp on the down beat.

papa makes his way your direction ending the set list with 'Darkness at the heart of my love', when it gets to the part without vocals he does hand flourishes while you play your bass passing by with his mic down "tieni duro piccolo", walking his way around the stage to stand center and finish up the song.

In a blurr of time everything felt like it was on sparks of muscle memory and you were at the front with all other ghouls taking a well deserved bow with a standing ovation for each and every single one of you.

Papa copia was the first to lead off stage letting the ghouls throw picks and a few drumsticks from mountain and what not, you didn't stay long to see everything but you did notice people throwing things onstage as gifts; off stage setting down your bass in a stand you stumble into papas open arms.

Your forehead lay gently atop his chest still in your helmet your horns sit near his collar bone shaking yohr head, "i cant papa, i cant" not entirely sure yourself what you meant he hummed in understanding and hushed you, gently rubbing your back and swaying side to side, "stai bene piccolo ghoul, you can rest now. Ive got you, matter of factly weve got you"

Finally relaxing enough to let your ghoul form fall free, your tail limp all of you is exhausted and you feel so small but people always said it was weird and not good, they never listened to you when you said it was involuntary or a coping mechanism it was just permanently bad.

"Oh piccolo, shh your thoughts are so very loud my dear, it is okay to be small, the ministry welcomes all with coping, we will care of you"

He holds you closer and tighter humming a tune, and just like that your walls had fallen, there was no more fighting it, big doe ghoulish eyes staring up at him, complete silence from you.

At this point the others had made their way backstage, dew came walking over to take over while papa helped collect all the instruments. "Dew, could you please take them to the bus? We will get everything "

《~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~》in the bus now and changed in comfortable clothes dew led you to the ghoul pile nest, when you refused to sit down he stepped aside watching as you grab your comfort item from your personal bunk and made your way back to the nest laying in the center, followed by him curling himself around you.

The ghouls only ever took their helmets off when in a homely environment so dew having his helmet off was his symbol of saying you are safe.

Once everyone had finished packing up and putting stuff away they had all filed in slowly

Cumulus being the first to stop by you and dew at the nest, holding out a plush ghoul for you that she had picked up from the items thrown on stage, papa copia was next to stop by sitting with you and dew, you hadnt noticed until now that he was asleep holding onto you until mountain joined pulling him off of you so you could lean into papa as he held one of your comfort snacks and a juice, both already having been opened by him, he held you as you snacked.

Once you had finished he got up going to the front to drive the bus.

You were once more pulled into the cuddle pile by dewdrop his eyes open long enough to make sure all of your comfort items were tucked against your chest, between you both, "sleep little one, a tiny ghoul needs plenty of rest" soon joined by the rest you had finally fallen asleep, the ghouls were your element aswell. When finally at the hotel for the evening you were carefully awoken by papa, all the ghouls except dew had gotten up, but even he was awake, but he stayed to keep you warm, "it is time to go in, we are buddy system tonight, four ghouls in a room, each room has two king sized beds so its plentyful room"

You finally let go of dew and stretch, getting up to get ready you realize your overnight bag has already been packed and one of the taller ghouls hoodies layed out next to it, you could hear the ruckus at the front of the bus of all the other ghouls ready to bunk up in the hotel.

You slip on the hoodie which you now know belongs to swiss, his smell encapsulating your mind.

Papa comes up behind you placing a hand on your back "piccolo the ghouls have decided you can pick who youre bunking with, they want to be sure youre okay when tiny, loro ti amano"

You make your way to the front of the bus where you find the ghouls with their charm up. looking to papa followed by you tapping swiss, rain and mountain on the heads, the three stand up, mountain takes your bag and rain scurrys away and back with your mask in hand "are you able to use charm right now or is the mask a better option?" He questions

Taking a moment to test how well the charm feels, you point at the mask. Nodding he gently places it atop your head, he places his hand under your chin causing you to look up so he can buckle it up and tan pats you atop your head, swiss gently pulls the back of the hoodie at the bottom away from your back "curl your tail tiny" tucking it under the hoodie

Once in the room mountain sets down the bags he was carrying and helped take the mask off of your noggin, ruffling your hair causing you to chirp in response, rain and swiss hop on the bed closest to the door leaving the one near the window "copia is ordering food for everyone, hes getting youre favorite for you" mountain chimes, grabbing to tv channel guide and flipping through it.

"Movie?" You mumble causing all three of them to look over, normally youre completely silent when youre small, "you wanna watch a movie?" He questions flicking on the tv and sitting on the bed, he turns on Wall-E for you.

Sometime a few minutes later he feels you shuffle closer on the bed cuddling into his side with your comfort item in hand.

After dinner was delivered and eaten and the movie was over you had tucked yourself on your side of the bed you shared with mountain, rains lamp still on so he could read while swiss was practically cuddled ontop of him, every time you would shift or turn in bed they could hear it, causing them to watch you carefully when youd move or grumble is dissatisfaction.

there was just no way to get comfortable, this wasnt home or the bus, you werent wrapped in your family, you huff out rolling over to look at mountain, to your suprise he was looking right at you quizically.

You quickly curl into his side before he got the chance to say anything, "o parum ghoul, mi amor, papa is right, your thoughts really are so very loud" swiss sighs, pulling himself out of his bed followed by rain who lay on your open side and swiss next to mountain, it may not be a perfect ghoul pile but its better than before, rolling over when rain pulls out his book to read aloud, your head on his chest.

listen to the thrum and Rumble deep in his chest, your eyes fall closed but not before you wrap your tail around swiss' wrist where it resides clutched around mountain, your mind will feel fresh and lively tomorrow filed with the itmost of energy, especially after an evening full of cuddles and littlespace, rain places a gentle kiss atop your head and just like that you are asleep.

#nameless ghouls x reader #nameless ghouls x little reader #cardinal copia x little reader #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #cardinal copia x male reader #nameless ghouls x gn reader #agere reader #swiss x reader #mountain x reader #rain x reader

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666writingcafe · 3 months ago

Text

Gluttony

Beel

I should have known this was going to happen sooner rather than later.

Over the last few weeks, I've gradually grown less and less hungry. At first, I chalked it up to stress from these mock classes at RAD that me and my brothers have had to take, but anything I've done to relieve said stress only seems to exacerbate it.

And then one day I overheard Barbatos tell Diavolo that according to Solomon, Zephyr's been experiencing the munchies more frequently, and the pieces fell into place in my head.

Well, all but one: why is this experience different for me? If Zephyr's getting more gluttonous, shouldn't I be, too? Why have I not been consumed by my sin the way the others have?

"You're not good enough."

Its voice calls out to me from within the void I suddenly find myself in. I don't remember nodding off, but maybe I was forced to. Like the others have.

"What?" I ask. A little red demon steps out of the shadows. This must be my spiritual counterpart: No. 6.

"Ever since the day I was born, I've been watching you," it states calmly. "And you, Beelzebub, are truly pathetic."

"Excuse me?!" No. 6 merely laughs.

"I'm the hunger that used to burn inside you. But you've proven yourself unworthy of my services, and so I've found another host." I feel my eyes widening.

"You mean you did this intentionally?" Another laugh, much more raucous than the last.

"Of course! Gods, you're slow!" No. 6 takes a moment to compose itself. "It's not just about food, you know. You have to desire more. My counterpart should want to swallow the world whole with no hesitation, but you're too sentimental and weak." This is beginning to piss me off.

"I won't hurt my brothers."

"And there lies the problem. You put their needs above yours. Avatars aren't supposed to care about others." A brief pause. "Then again, you've always been the most angelic out of everyone, haven't you?"

Instantly, the void transforms into the Celestial Realm. A rather familiar part of it.

"If you hadn't spent so much time debating whose death would affect your so-called brothers the most, you could have saved them both."

"They were too far apart!" The scene quickly materializes around me: angels on opposite ends taking aim at an already-wounded Belphie and Lilith. "I only had time to save one!"

"You can control the wind, can't you? You could have easily used it to bring them closer to you or push the angels away from them." No. 6's grin grows larger, showing off its wicked sharp fangs. "Of course, I would have focused on saving myself. The two of them were dead weight, anyway."

"They were my family!"

"They were poor excuses for angels! I mean, developing such fascination for humans that you end up falling in love with one? They are inferior in every way!"

"Stop it!"

"Not until you accept the truth, Beelzebub! What good has your dear twin been since your arrival here? He's still obsessed over those stupid humans!"

"They're not stupid!"

"Sure they are. The only thing humans are good for is being a vessel for us to control. Free will is an experiment that failed a long time ago. They're little more than sheep, and some of them don't even taste all that great."

"And some of us have horns." Lilith stands up, except she's quickly transforming into something else.

Or rather, someone else.

"You are a conniving son of a bitch, aren't you?" Zephyr continues, fully in their demon form. "You thought you could use me to hurt Beel and get away with it?!" For the first time in this entire encounter, No. 6's demeanor changes. He's no longer confident; he's actually starting to shake as he stammers incoherently.

"I don't want to hear your excuses. You did what you did, and now you must pay the price." Zephyr crouches down, staring intently at No. 6. "I have had all kinds of things in order to satiate this hunger, but none of them have hit the spot. But I think I've just found the perfect meal." Zephyr licks their lips, causing No. 6 to squeak. Turning around, it begins running away, but Zephyr's much faster.

I don't get to see the carnage that they cause, for soon I'm sitting upright, covered in sweat.

"Good. You're awake." A bowl of soup is soon thrust in front of me. "Drink. It'll last you a couple hours."

"Where am I?"

"The castle." Of course. I recognize the servant's uniform now. "I've been assigned to tend to you until you're back to normal." I bring the bowl to my mouth and gently tip it upwards. It's warm, but not hatefully so.

"What about Zephyr?" The servant grimaces slightly.

"They'll be okay. They just have to..." He swallows. "...adjust back to their stomach."

"What do you...oh." The servant softly smiles.

"From what I've heard, it's not pretty. Only those with a strong disposition can be around them right now, and I'm--"

"--not one of those people. Got it." I quickly finish the soup and set the bowl off to the side. "So, how exactly are you supposed to 'tend to me'?"

"Basically, I'm your personal food delivery service. Whatever you're hungry for, I'll get it straight to you."

"And this applies to anything?" The servant nods his head.

"Direct order from the prince himself. All restaurants are on standby. Just one phone call, and they'll prepare whatever your heart desires."

"And they're okay with this?" He shrugs.

"It's all going on the prince's tab. Plus, I've heard he's promised all of them lucrative tips for their efforts."

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @budbuddnbuddy

#obey me shall we date #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me mc #it took me a while to come up with something for beel #but i think this will work #hopefully someone likes it #obey me nightbringer

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copiousloverofcopia · 1 year ago

Text

For the ghoul fuckers out there, here is my recent commission for @dantesunbreaker featuring our favorite gremlin, Dew!

Thank you so much for allowing me to write this for you. It was once again a pleasure and thank you for letting me to share it with others as well!

Also once again please be gentle with me I am not the best when it comes to ghoul content, but I am so happy that you all are giving me a change!!!

If you are interested in commissioning me, my carrd info can be found on my pinned post!

Never Change

The upcoming tour has you on edge when your devilish lover Dew decides to create a stir. While he meant no harm, the ghoul's antics only add to your frustration. When things reach their max and you can no longer continue, it's up to Dew to remind you on how to relax.

Also available HERE on AO3!

Definitely NSFW below the cut

Your head was pounding. The dark circles under your eyes, beginning to feel like a permanent fixture on your face and It seemed that as of late that the days grew longer and the nights shorter. You had begun to feel the weight of all the responsibility, you had at one time so willingly taken on. Now taking its toll more than you had ever expected.

At first you were elated to have even been asked. Working hard for the Ministry to ensure a successful tour for the Impera cycle was something any siblings would be honored to be a part of. There were days, however, when you hardly left the main office. The small room set aside for you, covered in an endless array of paperwork and incomplete itineraries.

At times it felt like you too were collecting dust, just as the numerous artifacts and forgotten tomes that surrounded you. More often than not, worried that the more you accomplished—the more you still had to get done. The ominous feeling of dread hitting you from the moment your eyes peeled open with the light of the sun. All of it, you often thought, would be a little less infuriating if it hadn’t been for your own personal gremlin—Dew.

You had fallen for him some time ago—back when you first became selected as a Canon for the Cardinal. A prestigious position within your Italian sect of the Ministry. You were ready to make a name for yourself just when Dew came into your life. Instantly drawing you in with his fiery and unpredictable nature. He was a force to be reckoned with, and he kept you on your toes.

The excitement between you left you with a sense of meaning—feeling more exhilarated and alive. All of your desires found to be mutual, leading to a romance between the two of you that rivaled that of Antony and Cleopatra. Hot and heavy, it was a wonder you ever got anything done. All of that, however, came crashing down when Cardinal Copia became Papa.

Your workload tripled overnight and suddenly you had gone from being able to sneak away to an alcove for some steamy afternoon delights, to being stuck behind the same four walls. Working day in and day out for weeks on end. No end in sight until the beginning of the tour. Worst of all, once the Ghost tour started and Copia left, Dew had to go with him.

You had tried not to think about it. Secluding yourself from the rest of the group. Dew, at first doing his best to give you space. At some point however, there was only so much he could give before a ghoul like Dew could no longer contain his natural urges.

This week was the worst of it. Dew finding new and inventive ways to drive you mad. First was him clawing up the sofa in the office. Leaving behind a trail of threaded up seams and worn down arm rests. He was a glorified cat in his own right, you thought, praying Sister Imperator would not hold you accountable.

The rest of the week Dew filled with the antics, the likes of an impetuous child. Trying desperately to gain your attention and doing his best to distract you from your responsibilities. Taunting you with the feel of his slick tongue running down the nape of your neck. His claws, grazing at the heat of your sex, all while you were elbow deep in monotonous paperwork. It took all the power you had inside you to shoo him from the office. The aching he left between your thighs—absolutely torturous.

You weren’t sure which was worse, the sexual edging or that he finished things off yesterday with a naked roll in the expense reports. Dewdrop, taking advantage of your quick trip to the refectory, to cover the pages in something wet. You, returning to find him amongst the pile of papers, all of them streaked in black ink and fluids. Of which the origins you dare not ask.

While you had tried to explain, in vain, why it wasn’t the time or the place. No matter how hard you tried you just couldn’t bring yourself to explain it in a way the ghoul would understand. To him it was all fun and games. He was teasing you after all, and if he wasn’t allowed to have you then this was the best way he knew to spend the time.

Now as you sat at your desk, you waited for the next Dew episode to take place. Feeling the tears pricking at your eyes when the door to the office creaked open. Your scrunkly handsome, mischievous, and smug ghoul wasting no time to step inside. Noticing right away when he walked in, that your face held more than the suggestion of tears.

“Hey babe… what’s got you all?” Dew asked, gesturing over his face with his hands. You let out a sigh, taking in a deep breath in through your nose, before exhaling sharply through pursed lips. Feeling the resolve you had been holding on to, quickly crumbling down.

“I—I just can’t take it any more Dew.” you told him. Sobbing into your hands as he quickly closed the space between you.

“Hey, hey, hey peanut. Tell me what’s going on? Are they adding more work for you again?” he asked, ready to throw hands with whatever clergyman had the balls to give you even MORE to do.

“No, that's not it.” you sniffled. Drying the tears with your sleeve as they fell from your eyes. Dew’s normally grumpy face, turning soft and concerned in their wake. His tail, coming to rest sullenly between his legs.

“Then… then what is it?” he asked, seeming to be genuinely unaware of what troubled you. The ghoul, bringing himself to sit beside you on your desk. Hopped up along the edge like a wistful kitten, wanting to comfort you.

“I am overwhelmed, that's true. Sister is on me to finish up all the contracts for the European venues and to top it off I just found out they are adding another date in September that I need to work out the details on and well… frankly Dew,” You paused, deciding to tell him the truth once and for all,”...you are NOT helping.”

“What? What do you mean?” Dew asked you, feeling a bit blindsided by your comment. Unsure of exactly what you were trying to tell him.

“I am running on empty. I have so much left to do and all this stuff with you is making the load feel ten times worse. I just wish… I just wish you’d stop with all the crazy while I am trying to work!” you yelled, putting your head down on the desk. The pounding inside of your skull intensified. It was all out in the open now. Dew pressed his lips together, feeling the weight of your words. Wishing he could take back everything he had done the past week.

“Hey…” he began, nudging you with his horns. You carefully lifted your head to meet with his gaze. This time your impish lover was staring back at you with soft, loving eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh?” you asked him, wiping away the remainder of your tears. Dew pulled you into his arms. Wrapping you in them, allowing you to release in his embrace.

“I’m sorry, I let things get out of hand. I never in a million years wanted to make you unhappy and I surely didn’t want to make you break down.”

“Oh Dew… it’s not just you. I—”

“No, I know… but I could have done better to make sure you weren’t getting into a bad place. That was also my fault. I promise you that this will never happen again.” he smiled, running his hand over your hair.

“I don’t want you to change Dew…” you told him. Worried that he might have misinterpreted what you were trying to say.

“I am not talking about changing who I am, baby. I am talking about not adding more to your plate when you are at max.” he explained, assuring you that your lovable Hellraiser would still be the same ghoul you fell in love with.

“Good, cause I wouldn’t have you any other way.” you smiled, bringing your lips to his. Feeling the heat rising between you. Your heart, already beating away as the blood went surging through your veins.

“Promise me something, will you?” he asked.

“Of course… anything.” you smiled, finding Dewdrop’s look of sincerity–incredibly cute.

“Never let this happen again, ok? Don’t wait until you are on the edge before you say something to me. Promise me that you will start to take breaks when you need them. You aren’t invincible babe. You need time to ground yourself too.” Dew explained. You nodded in agreement, surprised that such sage words came from such an unlikely source. Clearly his time spent in Copia’s company was rubbing off on him.

“I promise.”

“Good. You know, even us ghouls know what it’s like to need a break. I can empathize with you more than you think. The long hours on the road, lack of sleep, the constant needing to bring your A-game. I promise you, the constant burnout will make things harder and you’ll get even less done in the end.”

“Really?” you said, though you shouldn’t have been surprised. Dew was part of Ghost and had been for some time. Of course, he knew what it was like to live in chaos and like he was running on fumes.

“Really… so make me a deal. I promise if you start giving yourself the time you need to recoup, then I will stop being such an ass.” Dew winked, “Deal?”

“Deal.”

“...and you know there is one thing I can do to help you relax—if you’ll let me.” he smirked. Instantly your skin was flooded with goosebumps. Your body, knowing even before he’d made a move EXACTLY what that one thing was. Dew dropped off the edge, turning to lift you up out of your chair onto the desk as he buried his face in your neck.

Teeth scraping along a delicate spot as he breathed his hot, steaming words of affection against your skin. His claws, gently traveling down your chest to your stomach as he unbuttoned your shirt. Feeling his desire for you growing hard against the inside of your thigh. Already your body, getting wet at the mere suggestion of him.

“I’m gonna show you just how well I can get you to relax baby.” Dew purred as his fingers slid over your zipper—undoing your pants. You hummed in approval, wiggling out of them as fast as you could without losing your position on the desk.

“Show me… I need you.” you moaned. Chewing on your bottom lip and watching as his deep, piercing eyes fall to the center of your lap. His fingers, finding their way diligently to the wet spot of your underwear. Dew wasted no time teasing it with his digit. Rubbing you there until it was soaked all the way through.

“That's right baby… that's what I wanna see. I love how fucking wet you get for me.” he growled. Moving now to sink his fingers fully inside you. His fangs, following suit as he bit into your neck.

“Ah!” you cried out. Reveling in both the pleasure and pain combined between you. Rolling your head from side to side as the sensations overwhelmed you in the best way. Dew began to lick and suck at the bite. Leaving purple marks of ownership behind them. It would be clear to anyone who saw you, that you belonged to him. That he belonged to you.

As you leaned back on your elbows, Dew lifted up from your neck to watch as he pushed his fingers carefully past your folds. Licking his lips as he pumped them in and out of your dripping wet pussy. Hungry to taste you more than anything he had ever tasted before. Not satisfied enough just to have watched you squirm.

“You’re so good for me.” he purred again. His thumb, circling over your swollen clit before he began once again dipping his fingers in and out of you. Your hands, wandering over his sleek back and tangling in his long hair, just before you reached his horns. “Fuck.” he groaned, he loved that. Knowing that they allowed you more control—and he was determined to let you use them. Happily guiding his mouth down along your folds.

“Ah…mmm…” you mewled as Dew dropped down between your legs. His tongue slithering through your wet lips and licking up inside you. Alternating between sucking on your clit and lapping at your folds as he gently worked your insides with his hands. Humming against you as he did it–the vibrations driving you absolutely mad.

“Mmmm… So... fucking... good.” he moaned, palming his cock with his free hand. You wanted him. Needed him. Knowing that riding that cock and having him knot you was the only thing that could release you from the built-up tension. Your fingers gripped tightly onto his horns.

“I’m cumming… oh fuck I'm cumming!” you cried as he pressed hard into your g-stop. The sensation of his touch on the soft, velvety tissue—sending your hips up in the air. Dew, smiling against your clit as he felt you cum. Letting you ride out your orgasm on his hand while he delightfully lapped up your fluids. The juices covering his face when he pulled up to kiss you.

You were breathless and weak as you laid there on the desk. Unsure if you’d ever be able to move again—though you certainly wouldn’t have had it any other way. Your body, still falling from the heights of passion you’d reached when Dew lifted your legs up and over his shoulders. Hastily pulling his throbbing, leaky cock out from the confines of his pants.

“I think you’re still a bit tense.” he teased, you too blissfully pleasured to even respond. Well at least not with anything coherent. Dew began running the head of his cock up through your slick. Rubbing at your entrance to finish wetting himself before he was ready to slide inside.

He didn’t need to bother; you were already so needy and ready for him. Your hips rising up against his shaft. Trying hard to guide his cock inside. Begging for him to fill you, to provide you with the friction you so desperately desired between you. Thankfully you hadn’t had to wait long when Dew plowed his way in.

“Oh, fuck me!” you yelped as he pushed himself in to the hilt. His meaty cock, meeting with the farthest point of you. Dew was only too happy to oblige. Withdrawing backward, just so he could more forcefully pound back into you. You gripped tight to the back of your legs. Dew’s hands placed on either side of you on the desk to help steady himself as he thrusted away. Fucking harder and harder into your tight, little core with every thrust.

At one point it crossed your mind that you and Dew were most likely fucking on top of the expense reports from that morning. At that moment, however, neither of you cared. Your body, too engrossed in how good it felt to have him inside you. Bucking away as he pressed tight across your walls, filling you so well you could hardly stand it.

“Dew… I wanna cum… cum with me.” you mewled. Your wanton cries of desperation, making Dew grit his teeth, hoping to hold back his own climax. There was nothing so hot as you begging for him to let you cum.

“You want me to cum baby? Well, you gotta cum for me first.” he demanded, his tail snaking up your leg and teasing at your asshole. The fluids from your drenched pussy, spilling down over it as it worked its way inside.

“Ah!” you cried out as his tail entered you. Slowly fucking your ass as Dew continued to fill your pussy to the brim with his cock. You couldn’t barely stand it. Stretched fully inside by him. The sensation made you want to explode. Unable to hold back as your orgasm came ripping through you so fast that you soaked the desk below.

Dew wasn’t satisfied yet. Lifting up and gripping the back of your legs as he pounded harder. His thumb brought back to your clit, continuing to fuck you in both your holes. His tail swirling around inside your ass and pressing up against his cock, from the other side of the thin walls, while he thrusted into you.

Neither of you could sustain it much longer. The wet sounds of his lap, meeting over and over again with yours, was absolutely salacious. The well earned sweat, dripping down his back as he continued on. His speed, beginning to slow as he grew closer to his own climax.

It was unmistakable when you felt it. His cock, beginning to swell all around inside. Pressing against all the right nerves as he spread you out, knotting you. His tail, continuing to move in and out. The two of you panting and whimpering as the pressure inside continued to build.

Finally Dew couldn’t last any longer. Cumming hard into you. Ropes of hot, sticky cum—painting the back of your walls as his tail slipped from your ass. You, beginning to completely unfurl before him when you clamped down on him once again. Tugging tightly to his knot as you felt the force of yourself squirting around him.

And just like that it was over, Dew collapsing on top of you. More spent than he had ever been before in his life. It seemed that this relaxation session was just as much for him as it was you. You held him against your chest, your breathing beginning to settle. A sense of calm, that was promised to you by your ghoulish lover, taking hold.

“You see,” Dew began while still panting away, “there is nothing like a good fuck to help you relax.”

“Agreed.” You told him, both of you laughing in one another’s arms. There was nothing more you would ever need, than to be held by those arms. No matter how crazy things got, Dew would always find a way to level with you. Even in times that didn’t involve an overwhelming amount of sweat and cum.

“Thank you.” you told him. You were finally relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever. Even more so now, knowing that you could come to Dew with your problems. Knowing that you could be honest with him and that it was ok to give yourself grace when you needed it. No matter what he would always be there for you.

“Anytime.” Dew smiled, helping you up from the desk so the two of you could clean yourselves off. Suddenly, as you rose off the desk, a look of concern spread across his face. Accompanied by an even more worrisome nervous grin.

“What?” you asked, not sure you wanted to know the answer as you picked off the stray papers sticking to your back.

“Now… don’t get mad, but I think we might have gotten some jizz on Copia’s permit agreement.

“Dew!” you laughed, giving him a tap to the chest, “Never change.”

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lightlycareless · 11 months ago

Note

Imagine: naoya and y/n have been happily married for years, and y/n has Lesley Gore's "You don't own me" as ringtone because it makes naoya so embarrassed, he would be like "love, I have already apologized 🥺"

PS: love your work, you alone are making justice to naoya's character. Your characterization of him is canon in my mind.

Hello!!!

Awww this is 🥺 man I feel so bad for him haha. But it's true, once everything is healed and nice, this man will still feel that he could never make up for his mistakes 😭 you'd be there to reassure him, though :) ❤️

Anyways, I've decided to apply some creative... differences to this. Mainly because I wanted to get really angsty with it mwahahahahahahah (also, it's not noted here, but there are some things that will remind her of those days, so she will avoid anything that might make her remember that. The two are in love, but... it's a difficult path. but trauma always is.)

Also, thank you so much for your lovely words!! I do try my best :') I'm so glad that you liked my characterization!! This man is capable of more... under the right circumstances 🤭

warnings: a bit of angst. naoya is deeply regretful. you're supportive. mentions of abuse (not really, but something bad is implied)

happy reading!

“—this is why I don’t like going out with you. Nothing ever seems to be of your liking!”

“If you have such a bad time with me, then why don’t you leave?!”

“I might as well!”

Naoya was never one to overhear gossip (coming from strangers, that is.). Thought it to be incredibly boring, dull, mundane, especially from civilians. What could they even experience? Their boring 9-5 job? Yeah, no thanks.

Yet, something about this conversation didn’t elude his attention like it used to, and before he knew it, when he was once focused on your voice, he was now nothing but attentive to the hurtful words of the couple nearby.

They weren’t directed at him, obviously, nor did they refer to anything he could take personally…

But the weight of his past makes it impossible for him to look beyond his own guilt, instinctively attaching their words to his own actions. Like he was the one they were discussing.

Naoya knows he was a… less than desirable man at the beginning of this marriage. He doesn’t claim otherwise, he can’t, since there are still many things to make amends for…

Things that he knows he’ll never be able to; for the atrocities he committed to you… they’re unspeakable. Even with the promise he made to spend of the rest of his life making it up to you, one he doesn’t intend to let go.

But… will he ever amount to it? Can he do so?

…

He’d rather die trying, than never at all.

“Another one?” You ask when he suggests going to another store. The two had come on a date at a shopping mall, intending to pick up some things needed for the apartment, alongside enjoying each other’s company; Naoya’s work had been quite demanding as of lately, and he intended to get his dosage of you, enough to cover a whole month. “But I thought you wanted to head back already…?”

“Yes, but then I thought we’d make the best of our visit here before leaving instead. Who knows when we’ll be back?”

“Oh, well… if that’s what you want…” you frown, a bit unsettled by his sudden change, which was only to worsen.

“No! I mean—we can do that too if you want to.” Naoya interjects.

“You’re not making much sense…”

“What I mean to say is that we can do whatever you want.” He scurries to explain. “Just say the word and I’ll do it.”

“I... don’t have anything in mind, really. Going home sounded good.”

“Are you sure? We can go somewhere else too. You know I have no limitations.”

“I think I’m done for the day—”

“Home it is. Would you like the estate, the apartment, or your parents’ house?”

“My parents house?? But that’s—that’s on the other side of the country!” you gasp; and while you’re always appreciative of Naoya’s willingness to go above and beyond, this was actually a bit… excessive—and that’s saying a lot coming from him!

“And?”

“What do you mean and? We can’t just hop on a plane and leave!”

“Of course we can.” He corrected. “We can leave right now if you want.”

“Again with the—Where did this come from?? Is everything alright, Naoya? What’s gotten into you??”

“Nothing! Is it wrong to want to please you, too?” Naoya frets.

“Too?” you repeat. “What do you mean by that?”

“It’s—It’s nothing. Just tell me what you—”

“No, it is important. It has to be if it’s affecting you like this!” you cry. “Tell me, Naoya. Please. I thought we agreed we could tell each other everything!”

“It’s nothing you don’t know already.”

“Like what?” you frown. “What do I already know?? You’re not making any sense!”

“That I don’t deserve you!” he condemns. “That I’ve done terrible things to you that I can never erase, no matter how much I try—and that perhaps you’d be infinitely happier with someone else; someone… that isn’t me.”

Even with the large, noisy sounds of the lively mall, silence manages to quickly engulf the two soon after, drowning you in the pain Naoya’s unexpected words gave you, piercing your heart and the hope you’ve placed for the future of this relationship.

One created with the notion that everything bad had been left in the past, ready to move on… only to realize, it wasn’t that easy to do so. Suddenly coming back, in the most unwanted, painful way you could’ve imagined—seemingly unprompted, but equally damaging to Naoya’s sentiments.

“That’s… that’s not true.” You eventually murmur, looking at him, while Naoya’s eyes remain glued to the floor. “None of what you’re saying is true.”

Then why do I keep feeling this way?

“… you don’t… believe that… do you?” You continue, managing to get a glimpse of his face, which reflected nothing but sadness and disbelief towards your words.

“It seems like all I do is hurt you.” Naoya laments. “No matter how much I try, I’ll never be able to escape—"

“Don’t say that—that’s not who you are.” You interject, stepping closer to him. “We’ve come a long way from where we began, you’re not that same man from before.”

“But I keep making the same mistakes, I keep hurting you.”

“It’s not easy to leave behind what you thought normal for all your life—or to accept them as mistakes…” you take his hand. “So, when you do fall back into your old ways, but bounce back right up… It shows you’re trying. It shows you’re regretful and want to do better.”

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

“I know.” He lifts your gaze to yours; you place your other hand just above his cheek, giving him a soft smile. “And… I know you don’t do it intentionally. I’ve seen your heart, the pain you went through and how it affected you. But I also saw what you’re capable of, the love you’ve harbored, how you longed to share it, and… how lucky I am to be the one to earn it.”

“…I’m the lucky one.” Naoya leans into your touch. “To have found a wife so compassionate…”

“We’ve both done things we’re… not proud of. But that doesn’t mean we’re eternally bound to them. As long as we’re regretful and strive to do better… it’s all that matters.”

“But when is enough?” Naoya murmurs. “When will I stop feeling like this?”

“I don’t know. There are some things we can’t stop, we simply… learn how to live with them.” You admit. “I wish it was possible.”

He frowns, looking away.

“But I do know one thing, though.”

“…What is it?”

“That I love you. With your faults and virtues—and everything in between. Is what makes you, you, Naoya.” You giggle, he gives you a tight smile. “And I’ll spend my whole life telling you that until you believe it yourself!”

He chuckles; seems that both have made lifelong promises that neither intends to forget anytime soon.

“I love you too.” Naoya professed. “Thank you for everything. You’ve given me so much, probably even more than what I deserved—that I’ll spend my whole life making it up to you.”

“You don’t have to, Naoya. You only deserve more.” You reassure him. “But really, you don’t need to make it up to me! As long as you remember the love we have for each other, and that I’ve long forgiven you, is enough for me.”

At your words, the tears Naoya was trying his best to hold back finally slide down his cheeks, which you quickly wipe away with your thumbs, before giving him a smile and pulling him closer for a peck on the lips.

“Everything is going to be fine.” You promised, he looks back at you. You kiss him again, taking him into your arms and hugging him. “If you don’t mind me asking, however… what happened that made you feel this way? Did I do something?”

Naoya sighs, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“No, never. It was just something stupid, actually. Some people arguing, that’s all.”

“Oh.” You blink, quickly understanding why he’d feel insecure about your relationship; the familiarities were too close for comfort. “That’s… unfortunate.”

“It reminded me of how we used to be… how I’d treat you.”

“That is long gone. We’ve worked past that and now, we’re in a much better place.” You snuggle against him. “Both figuratively and literally.”

“Do you still want to go home?”

“Yeah, all this shopping made me tired. Unless there’s something else you wanted to see?”

“No, I was mostly suggesting things for you. I’ve been feeling tired for a while too, now.”

“We can arrange something else for another day, then. For now, I just want to head back home, lay on the futon, cuddle underneath the covers, and maybe watch a movie… how does that sound?” you grin. “I can even prepare some popcorn, if you’d like!”

He chuckles.

“It sounds wonderful.”

Just like his new life with you. Something he never thought he’d receive, nor deserved, at least in the beginning of his marriage.

Until you proved to him otherwise, showing him that the ways of his clan, those forcefully imposed on him, didn’t determine who he was, who he could become.

That he had much more power over his life, the ultimate decision on what to do remained on him and no one else.

It was to be a difficult path, one promising bumpy roads, which will probably never end if he were to be realistic…

But it’s just as you said. As long as both know, deep inside, that they’re doing their best to overcome these obstacles, as well as remembering that they’re always there for the other, alongside their ever-growing love… nothing else mattered.

It was you and Naoya against the world.

And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

🥺 I believe Naoya will always feel undeserving, even when they have a kid together and whatnot. He comes from a very difficult family, so be prepared to face these kinds of situations when in a relationship with him 😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️

omg i can imagine it already, when he's super old, reflecting on his life he had alongside you, his kids, and probably grandchildren too... only then will he finally admit he's happy with the life he had. jfc i'm crying goodbye.

Anyways, I know I deviated a bit from your imagine, but I still hope it was to your liking! the angst between the two is real, but so good too....

As always, thank you so much for sending in this! Take care, and hope to see you soon!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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