#reader x dandelion

[prythianpages]

But the Worms | Azriel

Azriel x Green Witch | Azriel is woken up by your daughter in the middle of the night to answer some of her questions.

warnings: fluff, dad Az

word count: 943

a/n: Just a short little fic that can be read as a stand alone. This was inspired by a scene from Bob's Burgers lol.

Rain pattered against the window steadily, accompanied by the distant rumble of thunder. Every so often, the sky would flare with a jagged streak of lightning, briefly illuminating the room with a cold, blue light before plunging it back into shadow. The storm was a familiar, comforting backdrop to Azriel’s slumber.

But his shadows, ever vigilant, stirred with a whisper of unease.

Azriel’s eyes fluttered open, drawn by the shift in his shadows. That’s when he heard them. The faint, hurried sound of small footsteps. His shadows fluttered toward the door as they sensed the hesitant shuffle against the wooden floor.

He didn't need his shadows to tell him who was on the other side. Had it been his first born, he'd never hear the steps as she loved to sneak up on him,. The door would've been open abruptly with no hesitation whatsoever but it's been years since she last had a nightmare. A nightmare she didn't welcome, at least.

That was not the case tonight. It was his second-born. Sweet little Alora, who, true to her name, should be dreaming of unicorns and rainbows as she loved to recount to him every morning, rather than being awake.

His gaze flickered to you. While Azriel was a light sleeper, you were a heavy sleeper and truth be told, you were sound asleep, back turned toward him. A shadow tenderly caressed your back before he shifted his attention back to the door. He was already sitting up in the bed, blinking away the sleep or at least trying when the door opened quietly, muted with the help of his shadows.

Alora stood at the door. Her hair, the exact shade of yours, was disheveled, the bangs she cut herself last week splayed over her forehead awkwardly. A rite of passage, you had called it, reminding him that your first born had done the same.

Her eyes, the exact shade of his, were wide and glistening, and there was a pout on her face.

Azriel’s chest tightened at the sight, wanting nothing more than to soothe whatever troubled her, despite his fatigue. He extended his arms out, and Alora ran right into them, her small frame immediately enveloped by his.

Cradling her to his chest, he pushed her bangs back and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “Did you have a nightmare?” He asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

“No. I haven’t slept at all,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

Azriel frowned, glancing at the clock. It was well past midnight, and his eyes were begging for sleep, lulled by the rain falling outside. “Is it the storm?”

Alora placed her hands on his chest, pushing herself up slightly. She spared a glance to your sleeping form before leaning in closer to her father, careful not to wake you with her voice. Though, Azriel doubted you'd wake at all.

Her hazel eyes, so innocent and pure, stared into his own. “Do you think worms have dreams too?”

Azriel's heart softened further. Her worries were so small, so wonderfully trivial compared to the burdens he had carried as a child.

“I’m sure they dream,” he murmured, gently pulling his daughter's head back to his chest, wishing for her to always have such simple worries. He also hoped she’d be content with his answer and finally drift off to sleep herself.

“But what do they dream?”

“The same things you do.” He replied, trying to stifle a yawn. He snuck a glance at you, still oblivious to your daughter’s insatiable curiosity.

“Do they get nightmares too?” 

Azriel fought back his groan. He loved his daughters deeply and strongly. He would go through all ends of the world for them. Any other time, he would entertain this conversation fully, but it was late, and Alora should be fast asleep like her sister. 

“Mel says worms come out when it storms so that we don’t hear their cries.”

Speak of the little devil herself. Mel was sure to get an earful from him. Tomorrow morning, or rather, in a couple of hours. Azriel took a deep breath, trying to muster the energy to explain, his body aching for rest.

Azriel could hear the thoughts swirling through her mind as she continued. “Why would they cry? Is it because of the bad dreams?”

“Don’t listen to your sister,” he said gently, running a hand through Alora’s tousled hair.

“But you told me to listen to her yesterday morning.”

“I did,” Azriel replied with a slight grimace, regretting that decision immensely at this very moment. Granted, he had said that after Mel told Lor to stop riling up Sprinkles, her pet scorpion. “But that’s different.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain tomorrow,” he said, his voice a mix of patience and weariness.

“But the worms–”

“The worms don’t have nightmares and they come out during storms because they love the rain. Now, go to sleep. Please.”

Alora let out a small gasp, her hand losing its tension against his chest. “You promise?”

“Yes.” Azriel replied quickly, not certain what exactly he was promising. He'd deal with it later.

“Okay.”

When he finally felt her body relax in his arms, he let out a breath of relief. He held her tighter in his arms, shifting them to face in your direction before settling Alora between you both. He didn’t have the energy to take her back to her bed.

He gladly gave in to the heaviness of his eyelids, his eyes closing shut and ready to embrace sleep under the comfort of the rain once more--

"Daddy?"

He didn't bother opening his eyes. "Yes?"

"I love you."

His lips tugged up into a smile. "I love you too, my sweets."

Alora snuggled closer to him, tiny hands grasping onto his larger one and placing it over her face. She always found comfort in his touch, despite the scars that marred his hands. It was something that never failed to make his chest swell with warmth. Along with the way both his daughters always looked up to him, eyes full of affection and admiration.

His thumb caressed her cheek, soothing her as his shadows settled back into their corner of the room, curling into the bed Alora had gotten them for Solstice this year.

For centuries, his shadows had slept among other shadows, usually underneath the bed or in the corners of rooms. But Alora had felt bad for them one night, and when shopping for Solstice this year, she had asked you to take her to the pet store and picked out the softest bed for Azriel’s shadows.

Though his shadows had never complained or shown any interest in comfier sleeping habits, they had vibrated with excitement at the sight of the gift. Now, they slept there every night, happy and content, snuggling amongst one another and curling into a ball.

As his thoughts began to blur and drift, the world around him softened, the edges of his awareness becoming fuzzy and indistinct. Now that he knew your daughter was okay and her curiosity satiated, he could go back to sleep.

His breathing slowed, deep and even, matching the gentle rise and fall of your own breath. Just as he was about to give in to the sweet embrace of sleep–

“Daddy?”

He could barely manage a grunt in response.

“Would you still love me if I were a worm?”

Oh, this was definitely your daughter.

series tag list:@fxckmiup, @aria-chikage

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna

[yuwuta]

childhood friends to lovers with yuuji is like he’s five and he catches frogs in the lake near his house on weekends fishing w his grandpa and brings them to you like a courting gift (and gets sad when his grandpa tells him he’s got to let them go again, but yuuji promises to catch even more for you next weekend). he’s six and learns he likes to cook and starts making snacks for you and always sits next to you at lunch to give them to you. he’s seven and very definitive that you’re his best friend in the whole world and he doesn’t leave your side during class or lunch or recess or ever. he’s eight and you’re much better at reading than him, but he’s not jealous or upset because that means sometimes you read the harder books to/with him and he learns he loves hearing your voice when you read out loud. he’s nine when he learns he’s got an older brother and even tho he takes to choso quickly, he doesn’t really trust him until you meet choso and declare that you think he’s cool. he’s ten and that summer you go away to sleep away camp for the first time and yuuji cries the first night you’re gone, but choso helps him write and mail letters to you while you’re away, and every weekend yuuji is up 8am to greet the mailman and receive his letter back from you.

he’s eleven when you both start middle school and it’s the first time you both aren’t in the same homeroom, but that doesn’t stop yuuji—he’s sitting by your desk before you even get to school, he’s outside of your classroom before lunch, walks to your classroom after lunch, the first face you see. he’s twelve the first time he realizes that you’re pretty—you’ve always been pretty, but this is different; you’re pretty like sunlight, pretty like his favorite meal, pretty like feeling of coming home. you’re thirteen the first time you get a love letter on valentine’s day, but it’s not from yuuji—it’s another boy in your homeroom that yuuji doesn’t like very much and he never knew why until that day.

once he learns he likes to cook, he starts making snacks for you and gives them to you at lunch and it escalates into packing you bentos almost every day when you two start high school. he’s sixteen when prom rolls around and he’s rocking on his heels asking you to go with him—“as friends, you know haha. if you want, since you’re not going with anybody else and—well megumi and nobara are doing the same thing so i thought? maybe it would work for us, too?”—and when you say yes he tries to play it cool but he jumps and clicks his heels on his way to run and tell megumi about it (and then choso takes approximately 400 pictures of you and yuuji before you two head off to the dance).

it’s not until he’s twenty and a junior in college, and you’ve caught your first sort of serious boyfriend cheating that yuuji finally says something. he always says he wishes it was more romantic, but even now at twenty-six as you watch yuuji laugh with everyone at your rehearsal dinner, and look the collage of pictures choso has proudly displayed, you can’t help but think that it was the perfect confession—that everything about yuuji has always been perfect and that you’re beyond lucky to have him. and when yuuji catches your eye across the table, he smiles all dopey again like he’s five and just caught that frog for you for the first time and you’ve become the center of his world all over again.

[nutsuya]

♡ Free! Boys as Frat Boys ⨾

ft. natsuya, sousuke, seijuroo, kisumi, rin, makoto

w. frat au, kinda toxic?, jealousy, possessiveness, pda, implied exhibitionism, and a little ooc :3

a/n. I’m on a little break at work and I suddenly had a thought about the himbo love of my life natsu but I threw in the others as well.

꒰ Natsuya Kirishima ꒱

his shoulders will be your mount at every single party. competitive guy that he is, he always makes sure you guys are unbeatable — chicken fights especially, and everyone knows he’s a beast once he gets in the pool. he’s very proud that you’re able to hold your own. everyone in the frat house knows you’re off-limits! he even made a ‘special’ announcement at the frat house the day you said yes to him.

꒰ Sousuke Yamazaki ꒱

100% that guy who will come up to you when you’re talking to another guy and he’ll ask “is this guy bothering you?” tall, tan, lean drink of water that he is, of course every guy that comes up to you stops dead in their tracks. he wants to gatekeep you even though you had rejected his advances once or twice, only because he always seems to be surrounded by a flock of girls even though he doesn’t really seem interested. but he kinda grows on you the more he cockblocks every guy trying to hit on you. and who knows? maybe the only reason why you’re entertaining guys is just so he could do his little demo of how much he can make college boys scram with just his voice.

other girls would ask him to pay attention to them instead of you but he won’t budge. the man is persistent. “sorry girls, my eyes are only for ___.”

꒰ Seijuroo Mikoshiba ꒱

he’s a little lowkey about your relationship so when a junior hits on you, not knowing you’re with sei, the poor guy is definitely given a rough time by his seniors. seijuroo mostly just laughs it off and everyone thinks he’s just being old typical masochistic sei, who likes to torture his juniors, but he seriously hates it when a guy doesn’t know his place.

꒰ Kisumi Shigino ꒱

he’s sure of himself and he’s very secure. he doesn’t seem like he gets in a lot of trouble even though he’s constantly surrounded by hotheads*. lots of other guys would flirt with you, including some of his friends, and he does not feel threatened at all. he’d even go through some of the weird dms you get and you’d both get a laugh out of the stupidest things guys would send you.

his go-to explanation when asked why he doesn’t really do anything about it is “well, can’t help that ___’s gorgeous.”

꒰ Rin Matsuoka ꒱

*the hothead.

he gets into trouble for sure. he just gets so angry and over-protective of you. that’s why he makes sure that everybody knows who you belong to - both of you often found all over each other in parties, tongues sticking into each other’s throats, without a care in the world who’s watching, and no one dares to even breathe in your direction.

꒰ Makoto Tachibana ꒱

the guy you least expect would be in a frat. what started out as a friendly date turned into a series of hookups until both of you finally committed. you initially thought all these ‘meetings’ he frequented were of the academic sort since he’s always at the top of his game. it wasn’t a secret per se, he just didn’t know if you’d be comfortable with it. when he finally broke the news, you had so many questions: “have you ever gotten beat up?”, “have you ever beaten up someone?”, “what was your initiation like?”, “don’t tell me! are you one of those guys who ran across the track field naked with nothing a paper bag on their head?! one of those guys are super meaty and tall, you obviously fit the description!” - which he found really cute of you.

“who knows?” he simply hums.

[qrrieterisunnq]

The Worst And The Best Day

nico!hischier x ainsley!hughes SUMMARY: Ainsley and a few of her friends decide to go to a party after a long day at work. A few drinks later she’s dancing with some guy, who drugs her drink. When her friends find her, she’s in a bad state. WARNINGS: drugs, amnesia, alcohol consumption, unplanned pregnancy, angst, unedited, mentions of unwanted sex MINORS DNI - 18+ content below the cut WORD COUNT: 3,1K AUTHOR'S NOTE: First fic for our new au! I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! PART OF THE SWISS LOVE CHARM AU

the swiss love charm au

“Oh my gosh! Quinn, it’s one night! I’ll be fine!” Ainsley groans in annoyance walking in her bathroom, to spray some deodorant on her.

“But I’m your older brother and I worry about you, okay?” he sighs, dropping down on her bed with a heavy thud. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I know, Q. And I promise I’ll be okay!” she smiles at him as she walks back into her room. “I’ll be with girls all night, and I’ll be home around midnight.” She speaks as she puts all her things in her purse.

“But if something goes wrong, you’ll call me and I’ll pick you up.” he says in a stern but soft voice.

Quinn loves his sister so much. A lot of people were like they would hate each other, they would be arguing all the time as I did with my brother and all those kinds of things, but the truth is Quinn and Ainsley are best friends. They were inseparable all their lives. Quinn was so overprotective over his little twin sister. At uni, he had one rule for all of his teammates, ‘Ainsley is off limits for all of you, and if you try anything, I’m done with you’.

Many guys made fun of him for having his sister as a best friend but knowing her forever and having the same personality as her he doesn’t care. He knows she’ll be there for him whenever he needs and the same goes for him. Even though they have the same personalities, Ainsley is more social than him. She’s not afraid to speak with strangers on the street just to ask on the way or where is the best restaurant.

“I will, I promise.” Ainsley says softly laying down next to her brother. She turns her head to look at him, smiling at his sight. His brows are furrowed as he looks at the ceiling with his hands resting on his chest.

“Okay, just, don’t drink too much!” he sighs and turns his head to look her in the eyes.

“Oh I will my lovely brother, I’ll get so wasted, girls will have to bring me home on their backs.” she grins at him, sticking out her tongue. Quinn just let out a chuckle shaking his head.

“Good,” laughing he looks back at the ceiling and takes a deep breath in. “Now let me see you in your dress!”

Ainsley giggles like a teenager and stands up from her bed. She stands in front of Quinn, who pops up on his forearms to look at her. She spins around a few times looking down at her brother, who’s smiling at her.

“Gorgeous!” he winks at her, a grin sitting on his lips.

“Thank you,” She smiles shyly, smoothing her dress. “Anyway I better go, or I’m going to be late.” She chuckles taking her purse and the rest of her things.

“Okay, then say hi to girls!” he says as she walks out of her room, Quinn behind her. Ains looks at him over her shoulder, grinning and nodding. She puts on shoes and walks out of the apartment. Before she reaches the elevator she looks behind herself laughing when she sees Quinn standing there, hands crossed over his chest. “Call me if anything!” is the last thing she hears as the doors closed.

Pulling her phone out, she texts in a group chat that she’ll be in the bar in a few. With a smile she makes her way down the street, shivering when the cold wind hits her.

As soon she gets in the bar, she searches for her friends who she finds all gathered around a bar in a few seconds, laughing, clearly tipsy a little bit.

“Hi, girls!” Ainsley calls when she reaches her friends.

“Hi, Ziggy!” Amber, Ainsley's best friend, shouts standing from her seat and enveloping Ainsley in a hug.

“We ordered you a shot!” Lily, who’s now on her right yells in her ear and tugs Ainsley towards the bar, sliding the shot towards her.

With a laugh she drinks the shot, her face screwing from the taste. Amber and Lily laugh ordering other shots.

A few shots and cocktails later the three of them find themselves on the dancefloor swaying their hips in the rhythm of the music. Somehow, she drifts apart from them dancing a few feet from them and a few human beings between them.

Not caring she keeps moving and swaying her hips in the rhythm of the song, feeling a pair of two hands on her hips. She looks over her shoulder, smiling when she sees a tall handsome blonde boy standing behind her, a boyish grin on his lips. With a smile she sways her hips, grinding against his groin.

His grip on her hips tightens as he brings her even closer than she is now. He bends down until his lips are touching her ear as he speaks loudly, “We should get something to drink, baby!”

With a smile, Ainsley nods, leading the way to the bar. Sitting on the chair, the guy stands next to her, waving his hand at the barman.

Ainsley’s clouded eyes roam the bar, searching for her friends. The blond guy takes advantage of it, and as soon as the barman puts their drinks on the bar, he slips his hand in his pocket and pulls out from his pocket a small bag full of tablets.

He looks around, making sure no one sees him and he puts the tablet in her drink, stirring it with the straw that's in it. A few seconds later he taps Ains’ shoulder, sliding the drink to her with a smirk, that Ainsley assumes as a mischievous smirk. She thanks him, sipping from it and closing her eyes briefly at the sweet taste.

“Ainsley!” the voices of Ainsley’s friends are sounding through the bar hall that leads to the toilets. When they reach the doors toilet they swing them open, Amber and Lily gasp, and tears start forming in their eyes at the sight of their mutual friend.

Ainsley is sitting on the ground, her legs are bent towards her chest, with her hands around them clutching to them. Her head is resting on her legs and her blank eyes are looking at the floor underneath her.

“Ainsley…” Lily whispers rushing to her friend just like Amber who is now pulling out her phone. “Ba-babes, what happened?” she whispers, reaching her hand out, to touch Ainsley’s leg. But as soon as she touches her, Ainsley's head shoots up and she moves away from her. The fear in her eyes and her trembling body make Amber and Lyly cry softly.

“Quinn,” she whispers after a good ten minutes, not daring to look at her friends, because of her, now, crying face.

“You want me to call Quinn?” Amber says with a few hiccups, her eyes wide as he watches her best friend. Ains just nods her head not looking at them. “Okay. Okay, I-I’m going to call him.”

“Do you… uhm… do you remember what happened?” is Lily’s question when Amber puts her phone to her ear and waits impatiently for him to pick up. When he does, she turns to Lily signaling to her, that he’s on the phone.

“What’s up, Am?” his voice is hoarse, probably from sleep, but that’s the last thing Amber can think about now.

“S-something happened, w-we need you to co-” She doesn’t finish the sentence before she’s cut by the sound of the duvet and Quinn's voice.

“What happened? Did someone hurt you? Or-or Ainsley?” his voice cracks at the thought of her being hurt.

“Uhm…j-just come here please!” her voice cracks with the tears, and that is the last thing Amber says before she hangs up on him. She tucks her phone back into her purse and crouches down next to Ainsley.

“Do you remember what happened?” Lily asks again, her voice louder this time and her hand slowly reaching for her hand. Ainsley shakes her head and moves away from them not sparing them a single look as tears roll down her face.

She does remember. She remembers every second of it. But she doesn’t want to tell them. She just wants Quinn to take her home, make her something to eat, and leave her alone in her room. But she knows her brother too well, to know he isn’t going to do that.

The next ten minutes are quiet, only a few girls come in and shoot them weird looks. That’s until the door swings open, revealing a fuming Quinn standing there just in his pajama shorts and shirt. His palms are clenched in fists as he searches the room for his sister. His eyes widen when he sees his sister sitting in the corner of the room, her face is wet from the tears that have been running down for the past twenty minutes.

“Ainsley!” he gasps jogging to her. She looks wide into his eyes, more tears now forming in hers. Amber and Lily stand up and make a room for him. He drops down on the hard floor, not caring about the pain shooting through his knees, and pulls his sister in a bone-crashing hug. 

“Shh, shh. It’s okay,” he whispers in her hair when he hears the loud sobs being muffled by his shirt. “I’m here. It’s okay, Ains. Shh.” He keeps whispering, and his voice cracking as he listens to his sister's sobs.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs in his chest, clutching his shirt tightly in her palms. “I’m so sorry.” she whispers again, her voice broken, causing her friends to share a broken look, as the tears roll down their faces.

“Don’t apologize! You have nothing to apologize for. It wasn’t your fault,“ Quinn cries in his sister's hair, squeezing her tightly to his frame. “Amber call Brock, and tell him where we are, he’ll pick you up and drive you home.” He hands her his phone, telling her his password, which are dates of his sibling's birthdays.

“I-It’s our fault Ziggy. We should have never left you alone.” Lily cries out, he body shaking from the guilt as she stands only few feet away from her. It breaks Lily to see her like this.

“It’s no one's fault, now come, we’ll take you to the hospital,” Quinn says after a while, scooping his sister in his arms and taking her out of the bar, with Amber and Lily hot on his tail. “I have to know what happened to you.”

As they walk out of the bar, Brock’s car is already waiting there, with him leaning against the passenger door. When he sees his captain holding his sister in his arms and his face red from tears, he immediately pushes himself from the car rushing to them.

“What happened?” Quinn just shakes his head rushing to his car to get his sister in and drive her to the hospital.

“Hello. I’m Doctor Hendrix, and I’ll be taking care of you. I have the results of the tests, but first I have to ask you a few questions so if you don’t mind,” he averts his gaze from Ainsley to Quinn. “I’d like to speak to Miss Hughes alone.”

“N-no I need him there.” Ainsley immediately says, shaking her head and reaching for Quinn's hand. The doctor looks at Ainsley and then back at Quinn, smiling slightly.

“Okay. So Miss Hughes, do you remember what happened?”

Ainsley looks up at her brother, ensuring he’s really there even though she’s holding his hand. “I…uhm I remember that I and my friends were dancing,” Ainsley swallows hard, looking down at her hand on her lap. “And…uhm and some guy approached me.” she stops talking, tears forming in her eyes.

“Don’t rush, Miss Hughes. There’s a lot of time.” The doctor smiles at her politely, leaning his back on the table opposite the bed.

“Thank you,” She sniffles, wiping the tears away. She gently pulls her hand from Quinn’s taking in a deep breath. She doesn’t want to talk about it, but she knows what happened to her. She remembers every detail of it, except the face of the guy. “We uhm…we danced for a while, but I already had a few drinks in myself so…” she trails off, not looking at any of the men in the room.

“He uhm… he then took me to the bar and bought me a drink, wh-while I was searching for Amber and Lily,” as soon as the words leave her mouth, she realizes what happened and Quinn does too as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh my god… he did put something in my drink, didn’t he?” she asks her voice croaking tears now sliding down her face. When Doctor Hendrix nods his head, she sobs her hands coming up to cover her face.

“He gave you a rape drug in the drink, enough to make you numb, but not enough to make you not know what happened, right?” he asks her, but he already knows the answer from the drug test results.

Ainsley just nods her head, one of her hands covering her mouth, so she doesn’t let out a loud sob. Quinn pulls her head in his chest, letting her cry in his shirt. Her whole figure is shaking from the sobs. It’s killing him to see his sister in this state when he promised her he’d protect her.

“It’s okay, Ains. I’m here!” he whispers in her hair, kissing the top of her head as a tear slides down his cheek. He’s so mad with himself. He hates he wasn’t able to protect his little sister.

“But that isn’t everything I wanted to tell you,” the doctor says in a sad but professional voice. Ainsley pulls herself away from her brother, wiping the tears away from her cheeks. “We found some semen in your...” he trails off, hoping the two of them will understand. “If you're not using birth control then unfortunately I'm afraid you're going to be pregnant.” As soon as the words leave Doctor Hendrix’s mouth, Ainsley’s vision blurs and dark swallows her.

“Ainsley!” Quinn shouts when he sees his sister collapse on the bed.

Doctor Hendrix hurriedly calls a nurse shoving Quinn away so he can wake up Ainsley. “She’s okay, Mr. Hughes. She just fainted, from the amount of new information and the drugs still in her blood.”

“Quinn, calm down! What’s going on?” Jack asks worry lingering in his voice as listens to his brother talking to him.

“A-Ainsley, sh-she is in hospital. Someo-” he didn't even get to finish the sentence when Jack shouted.

“What the fuck happened!” he shouts, sitting up on his bed running a hand through his hair. His loud voice woke up Luke, who hurriedly ran to Jack's room, confusion written on his face.

“What's wrong?” Quinn hears his youngest brother ask. Quinn sits down on the chair that is next to Ainsley’s bed, who is now fast asleep, letting out a deep breath.

“Put me on the speaker, please.”

“So, what’s going on?” this time Luke asks, his voice full of nervousness and curiosity.

“Ainsley, she got drugged and is in a hospital now. Someone uhm, someone r-ra…” he choked on his words as he tried to tell his brothers what happened.

There’s silence on the other side of the call for a while, until Jack speaks.

“We’re catching the first flight to Vancouver. Did you call mom and dad?” his voice is low and a little cracked with tears, that are welling in his eyes just like in Luke’s.

“N-no not yet,” Quinn shakes his head, his eyes watching his sister's chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. “I’m planning on calling them after I call you.”

“O-okay, w-what else did the doctor say?” Luke asks, sitting down next to Jack, his shoulder brushing against his.

“I-I think it’d be the best if I tell you when you’re here.” Quinn whispers, hanging his head low.” I uhm, I’m going to get some sleep. It’s late.”

“Yeah, yeah, go, and don’t forget to call mom,” Jack says before hanging up on him. “Fuck, man…” he whispers shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, fuck.” Luke nods, tears sliding down his cheeks.

Quinn lets out a sigh and with trembling fingers, he dials his mom's number.

“Quinn, baby, what’s wrong?” her voice is raspy from her sleep as she squints her eyes at the alarm on the nightstand. “Isn’t it like one am in Vancouver?”

“Mom, something happened…” Quinn sighs, nervously biting down on his lower while his eyes are fixed on his sister, who’s slowly waking up.

“What is it, Quinn?” Ellen's voice is low and full of worry when she senses the guilt in Quinn's voice. She sats herself on the bed, resting her back on the headboard.

“It’s Ziggy. She...uhm...some-something happened,” he whispers and looks at his sister, whose eyes are now open, and gives her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“That's mom?” Ainsley’s voice is hoarse from her sleep and the lack of water. Quinn nods his head, letting out a long sigh.

“We are on our way!” Ellen says getting up from her bed and waking up Jim in the process. "We'll be there as soon as possible!" she says before ending the call.

“Jim! Wake up! We're heading to BC something happened to Ains.” Ellen shakes with her husband on her way to the closet to pack some of their clothes in a bag.

“What happened?” he asks confused, rubbing his tired eyes in the process.

“Something happened to Ains, we're leaving for BC,” she says again throwing her and his things in the bag.

“I'm going to look for some flights.” he stands from the bed and jogs for his laptop.

“Yeah that’s mom, they’ll be here as soon as it’s possible just like Lu and Jack,” Quinn smiles softly and stands up to sit down next to her. “Everything’s going to be okay, I’m here for you and I’ll help you with everything.”

“I’m so scared Q.” Ainsley whispers, her eyes closing from how tired she is.

“I know you are, but we’ll help you, now go sleep. Get some rest before everyone will be here.” He kisses the top of her head, letting her rest her head on his chest.

Ainsley closes her eyes, her hand resting on her belly as she caresses it softly. If she is pregnant, she’ll keep this baby because she already loves it.

[ghostlylicious]

@abdallahs-posts reached out to me to help their campaign . pls share and donate so this family can reach their goal !!🙏

[moralcandy]

fifteen things that don't come back, by charlie slimecicle:

number one. the paper airplane you and your daughter throw at your husband while his back is turned in the kitchen, the two of you hiding behind the counter as you snicker quietly when he stops humming and yelps a curse as he turns around with a faux angry expression and a poorly-hidden smile.

number two. the glass your daughter broke trying to grab it from the cabinet on her tippy-toes. you didn't look over until you heard the glass shatter against the kitchen floor, too preoccupied with grabbing the jug of cold orange juice from the fridge to notice until it was too late. golden, afternoon sunlight shone warmly on the both of you from the open window as you swept it up while she stood to the side with a sheepish expression.

number three. your husband's soft shirt he let you borrow when you said you couldn't find your own but really you just quickly shoved yours under the bed when he wasn't looking. you absently noted that it smelled like him. your lips curved into a slight smile without input. your foot shoved your shirt under the bed a little bit farther.

number four. the pictures you took of your daughter and niece, hugging eachother as they posed for the camera, the photo incinerated into ash when you blew up your house. you frantically dug through your daughter's chest afterwards, soot covering your hands as you searched for the photograph. you did not find it.

number five. your niece.

number six. the feeling of a cold glass of wine held tipsily in your hand, the waterdrop of condensation slipping down the glass at the same pace your tears did down your cheeks. you downed the alcohol until there was nothing left except a burning feeling and a lump in your throat. the bartender did not give you another drink.

number seven. your friend, the one who used to laugh hysterically with you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders before he began to scream at you while he wrapped his hands around your neck. he pushed you into the dirt, the metallic taste of blood in your mouth and the feeling of wet dirt on your skin as you absently question whether the water dripping on your face was the rain or the tears slipping down your friend's face. you know that was the funeral of your children, but you think both of the real 'you's died that day, too.

number eight. the warm, rumbling feeling of laughter in your chest as a smile hurts your cheeks, the sensation long gone. your mouth, for a moment, twitches into a small smile at the memory of the feeling.

number nine. the feeling of hands on your own, your husband's warm hands intertwined with yours as your cold, golden rings clink against eachother. your daughter's tiny hand clasped around yours as she leads you to a butterfly she found, grass brushing your ankles as you walk.

ten. the sound of your daughter's amused laughter, snorts interrupting occasionally. her head leans back as she giggles, her eyes scrunched up in happiness.

eleven. the sound of your husband's soothing voice, lilting with fondness as he looks at you. a smile absently crosses his face as he speaks, audible in his voice. you always remember smiling back.

twelve. your golden wedding band your husband lovingly slipped onto your ring finger so long ago, the one you furiously tossed into a dusty corner with particularily bad aim. you blame the poor aim on the tears blurring your vision, but it could've been the alcohol, really.

thirteen. your husband. you try to go to sleep in the center of your bed now, knowing that he won't be there. when you wake up, you always find yourself on the left side of the bed, as if you've moved in your sleep to accommodate someone. you scowl and think that your asleep self should stop being so stupid. ..you make the bed just in case he really does decide to come back.

fourteen. your daughter. whenever you make yourself breakfast now, you keep accidentally making two bowls, the muscle memory automatic, familiar, and no longer needed. you sit down at the table and set the bowls and begin to eat, but you always end up just stirring the cereal with your spoon as you stare at the untouched bowl across from you. you always end up throwing them both away. without your input, a frown tugs slightly at your lips as your pour out the second bowl but you know that nobody else was even here to eat it anyway. your eyes burn.

fifteen. your daughter, the one you know isn't the real one. sometimes you walk down those train tracks where you found her, hoping she'll be here this time. she never is. ..you still keep checking, just in case.

[literatureatthebowofnails]

A/N: Looking forward to your feedback

Series masterlist

Pairing: Loki x reader

Summary: Your first trip to Asgard

Warnings: Vomiting, fluff, angst

You land on Asgard, clutching Loki's arm in a death grip. Your nails dig into the black leather of his jacket, knuckles white as you fight to keep down your breakfast.

At Loki's other side, Steve Rogers grasps Thor's shoulder to steady himself. Beside you, Director Fury stands almost entirely still, the only sign of movement a slight flapping of his coat.

"Welcome to..."

"I'm going to be sick," you cut off the gatekeeper, releasing Loki and running to spill the churning contents of your stomach off the bridge.

You look up and see a grand procession approaching from further down, their guilded armor bright in the morning sun. Leading the group are four warriors: a stunning dark-haired woman, a blonde with a charming grin, a stout soldier sporting wild facial hair, and an overly serious crusader.

You wipe your mouth, feeling better but still unsteady on your feet as you return to the circular chamber. "Sorry," you mutter.

"Don't worry about it," Steve says. "I was a mess on my first visit."

"Um, thanks." You don't really believe him.

"I am Heimdall," the golden god continues, unfazed by your interlude. "Gatekeeper of Asgard, protector of the Bifrost, and seer of all things."

At this point, the entourage arrives. "May I present Lady Sif, the Warriors Three and the Einherjar," Thor makes your introductions, noting that Rogers and Fury are already acquainted with the leaders.

Three horses are presented for your journey to the palace. You perch nervously at the front of your saddle, grasping the horn for dear life. Loki swings up gracefully behind you and reaches around to control the reigns.

"It's alright, darling," he coos, wrapping an arm snuggly about your middle. "Nótt is steady and true. He will deliver us safely, I guarantee it."

You take a breath, trying not to shudder or look beyond the bridge. "It's my first time."

"And you're doing splendidly," he hugs you closer and you begin to relax as you watch Steve cling to Thor's waist.

Fury kicks his steed to a trot, joining Hogun at the head of the group.

☕

The five of you gather in an antechamber, preened and swathed in Asgardian finery. Rogers and Fury are called first, leaving to greet the court. After some time, you and Loki are announced.

He takes your hand, placing it around his arm before entering the grand golden hall. You walk side by side down the long aisle to the throne. Loki's steps are assured, his pace steady, honed jaw set in determination. The crowd claps respectfully, their observance subdued, even hesitant.

You reach the stairs below the throne and bend in a nervous curtsy. The prince gives his father a minimal bow; enough to show the necessary respect, but not a hair more.

"My son," Odin addresses Loki. You watch as his lip gives a slight twitch of irritation. "Welcome home."

"Father," comes the strained reply.

He then turns to the stately woman on your left. "Mother," he greets with a warm smile.

The queen comes to bestow a kiss on each of her son's cheeks. "It's so good to have your home." She turns to beam at you. "And you must be the gracious lady my sons speak so highly of!"

Loki provides your name and you exchange pleasantries with his parents before standing beside the queen, opposite Steve and Fury.

"Thor Odinson!" the herald bellows, followed by a roar of cheers and clapping from the crowd. The crown prince swings his hammer around, eliciting further excitement. You give Loki's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Father! Mother," Thor greets as he approaches, kneeling before the throne. "It has been too long."

"Too long indeed," Odin beams with pride for his first born. "I fear that if it were not for these mandatory check-ins, I we would never see you."

"I was here only a month ago," Thor's brows draw together in confusion before he brightens like a lightbulb. "Loki and I will make a point to visit more often." The dark-haired bother exhales a measured breath beside you. You doubt he plans to follow though with that promise.

☕

While the king reviews his youngest's contributions to Earth's safety, Queen Frigga invites you to tea.

Guiding you along a winding garden path, the matriarch asks how you and Loki are settling into your new space. She listens with interest to the explanation of your minimalist design preferences and methods taken to assimilate his more extravagant leanings.

Eventually you reach a grand birch tree. Beneath it sits a table set for two. A tiered tray boasts bite size sandwiches, petits fours, fruit, and madeleines. Small jars of curd, cream, jam, and honey surrounded it, with a heaping plate of scones and large pot of tea to complete the spread.

"I'm impressed to hear how well you collaborate with my youngest," Frigga comments as she pours your tea. "He's not always the most amiable, but he's unfeigned when it comes to you."

You smile, adding cream to cool your steaming china cup. "I think people rely too much on first impressions. Though impulsively acting superior when he feels insecure doesn't exactly help matters."

The queen nearly spills her tea, covering a smile. "That's quite an astute observation."

As your meal comes to a close, Loki appears. "I take it you're becoming better aquainted?"

"We are indeed," Frigga confirms. "I'm so glad you've finally introduced us."

"Mother," Loki smiles, "you know you're always welcome to visit Midgard."

"Maybe we should make a formal invitation?" you suggest.

Your trio walks slowly back to the palace, discussing potential opportunities for the king and queen to visit New York. A pattern forms with Loki suggesting inconsequential dates, and Frigga being forced to "remind" him they're during occasions that require the Alfather's presence onworld.

Tags in comments because I got trigger-happy posting this one 😆

Before you part ways, Loki stops a passing servant and requests they show you to his chambers, noting he requires a moment alone with his mother. You say your goodbyes to the queen until supper and her son assures he'll join you imminently.

Next Chapter

Main masterlist

[sunrisemill]

One day Chris will become my passenger princess 🙏🤞

[write-ur-wrongs]

Stayaway

In an attempt to get out of funk, here is a very short, not edited, written-directly-into-tumblr, song-inspired grealt x reader fic. Inspired by Stayaway by MUNA (the best band in the world, begging y'all to listen to their music you will be forever changed!!).

*********

"Come on! I know you're home, I followed you!"

The bard was yelling and banging on your door incessantly and you knew you had to answer eventually. The bastard followed you home after all, he knows where you live.

"I'm not home!" you shouted back, delusional.

"Y/N! I may be a fool but I'm not stupid," he replied, and you could hear the familiar smile pulling at his lips, "Now open up! The door and your heart!"

"Jask," you sighed, laughing despite yourself at his poetic antics, "go away!"

"No! I miss you!"

"I'm not home!" you tried again, will wavering.

"Y/N!" he pleaded, and you swore you could hear half that cursed smile pull down into a pout.

You rested your forehead against the door and bit your lip, debating. All the while, your hand betrayed you, reached for the doorknob and turned it open.

Before you knew it, you were face to face with an old friend and while the sight of him filled you with joy, you were also flooded with other, less welcome feelings of remembrance.

"Y/N!" he exclaimed, pushing himself into your home and saving you from dwelling on the heavy memories that tried to creep up over you. "You're home, what are the odds?"

"Hilarious as always, Jaskier," you said, closing the door behind him. "What brings you to my little hamlet?"

"Fate, chance, what have you," he said, his cheery demeanor working overtime to cover for his abject curiosity, "The sea called and I had to answer. You know how it is."

"I do, do I?"

"Don't you? I mean you just disappeared... I assumed something called and you, you know, answered?" His tone stayed light, the practiced levity of someone who's spent years buttering people up for information all while staying neutral.

"I guess..." you bit your cheek, busying yourself by playing hostess, and pouring you both a glass of wine, "things changed and I thought, 'hell, why not change too?'"

"Fair enough... oh thank you."

"Of course," you said, taking a sip of wine yourself before guiding you both towards your couch, "but seriously Jaskier, why are you here?"

"Seriously? I was just passing through on my way to Oxenfurt when I saw a familiar face. A face I thought I'd never see again..."

You looked up from your glass then, but immediately regretted it when you met the bard's earnest gaze.

"Yennefer thought she saw you in Novigrad a while back but then... nothing. We thought you were gone for good."

"Jaskier, come on," you pleaded, praying he wouldn't elaborate on who 'we' entailed, while another, less disciplined part of you hoped for the opposite. Maybe if you knew he missed you, maybe if you knew he was looking for you... maybe you could let yourself be found.

No!

"Don't shake your head at me, Y/N. You disappear from the city, you quit your job, no one has seen you at the pub, the library - anywhere!"

"I- I know... but Jask," you stammered, trying to start three sentences at once and fumbling them all.

"I mean, you loved your job, didn't you? And what about us?" he asked, voice cracking slightly. "Gods, was the breakup that bad?"

"The thing is, Jask," you sputtered between large sips of wine, "It wasn't. It was easy, actually. He did what he always does when we fight; scowl, shut down, turn away, and then take it out on our friends. The break was clean."

"If it was so clean, then why did you leave?"

"It's the rest of it! The, the staying away that was, is impossible. If I had stayed and kept going it out with you guys, we'd drink and dance and I'd wonder where he is. Or one moment I'd be at the library studying and the next, Yen be asking me about the breakup and trying to 'cheer' me up by bringing up the good times and next thing you know? I'm answering the door for him when he rolls back into town injured and brooding. I couldn't stand it! I- I couldn't risk it."

"That's -"

"Pathetic? I know."

"No! No, but if there were so many good times, so many reasons to go back then why not-"

"Damn it, Jaskier! This is why I had to leave." You said, gesturing between the two of you before dropping your hand on your lap with a smack. "If I let him back in, then he's not the man who broke my heart anymore. Not the one who told me I was overemotional for being worried when he'd disappear for months. Suddenly everything is fine... until it's not and I'm hurt and alone again."

You felt tears begin to prick the back of your eyes and shoved the heel of your palms into them to force them down.

"Hey... Y/N," Jaskier said, gently pulling your hands away from your eyes and taking them in his. "I'm sorry, I didn't know..."

"It's okay," you said, giving your friends hands a squeeze and looking up to the ceiling, letting your tears fall for a moment, "I'm okay."

"Y/N..."

"Oh alright, but I'll be okay," you amended, laughing at yourself lightly and wiping the tears away. "Jaskier, don't look so sad. I just need time, space, distance... I will be fine."

Your words had little effect on your friend though, who seemed to grow more anxious and sad with every passing moment. You quirked your brow at him and shoved his shoulder playfully, trying to break the mood.

"Jaskier, will you relax?" you asked, desperate to get him to smile now. You really had missed Jaskier and now that he was here, you realized how much you wanted him to stick around.

"Y/N, I'm really sorry." He whispered, refusing to meet your gaze.

You were about to try another lighthearted quip when you heard a knock at your door. Not someone knocking, just a knock. One quick but deliberate rap.

"Who...?" you heard yourself asking, even though you only ever knew one person who knocked on doors like that.

"Y/N, I'm so so sorry," Jaskier kept repeating. "I really didn't know. I never would have told him if I'd known."

Your mouth was bone dry but you couldn't get your hand to reach for your glass of wine. You just kept staring at Jaskier, watching him babble.

"I'll go tell him to leave, Y/N, I'm so sorry," you heard him say, his voice barely registering over the ringing in your ears.

You felt him get up off the couch, your blurred vision registering the now empty spot on the couch only after you heard your door be pulled open.

Every fiber of your being was on fire. You were frozen. You wanted to throw yourself on the floor. You wanted to run to him.

"Y/N..." you heard him say. Fuck he sounded sad. You wanted to hold him, tell him it'll be okay. You wanted to slam the door in his face. You forgive him. You'll never forgive yourself.

Against your better judgement, you felt yourself to turn look towards the front door and your breath caught when you saw him.

Gods above, you thought, he should have stayed away.

[junkdrawerfics]

Dandelions

Jasper Hale X Reader

Request: If it's not too much to ask, could I request a fic inspired by the song "Dandelions" by Ruth B? Not particular about plot just a lot of fluff if you don't mind. Thank you! @notafraidofstopping876

Word Count: 556

Note: I know this is pretty short, but I felt like it was a cute little scene and I didn't feel right expanding it. So I hope you like it! It was fun to work from a song!

---

“Look! A dandelion!”

Jasper has to hold back a chuckle as you drag him to the edge of the pavement. You stoop down, hand still in his, looking at the little weed in awe. It’s a tiny one, barely grown into the fuzzy little lion it will be, but you’d think it’s a stunningly beautiful flower by how excited you get. Amusement curls in the blond’s chest as he crouches down beside you.

“I love dandelions,” you hum, voice unbearably soft as you lean against him, “I don’t get why people call them weeds. They’re so cute, don’t you think?”

Jasper can’t help but agree, not because he finds the plant to be anything special, but because of you. Your emotions wash over him, a wave of warmth and wonder so intense he could drown in them. You don’t try to hide it either, or care that some students are giving the two of you strange glances. You just look at the little flower, eyes practically glowing with fondness.

You don’t pick the dandelion, though. You just kneel there, chin propped on your knees, humming contently.

“Aren’t you goin’ to make a wish, darlin’?” He asks expectantly.

You shake your head, a kind of knowing smile pulling at your lips, “Nope. I don’t need to.”

You have to bite back a wider grin at the perplexed look that flickers over Jasper’s face. You love when you can surprise the vampire, even in little things like this. He always gives you the same look, brows scrunched, eyes burning with curiosity, head tilting ever so slightly. It makes him look so human, like he hasn’t lived for hundreds of painful years, like he’s just Jasper, the nineteen year old boy who’s trying to figure out what on earth his girlfriend is doing.

“Do you want to know why?” You ask, voice not quite a whisper.

Jasper nods, eyes now narrowed, because of course he does. 

You lean in close, like what you’re about to share is top secret. The blond mirrors you. You take a dramatic pause, eyes sparkling, before finally saying the words you’d been practicing in your head since the moment you laid eyes on the flower.

“I don’t need to make a wish because they already gave me everything I ever wished for.”

It’s like lighting a match. There's a spark of surprise in his eyes before it flickers and warms into something overwhelmingly tender. 

“I wished on hundreds of dandelions for you Jasper Hale,” you finish in a whisper, just for him to hear, “I think it’s someone else’s turn to have their wish come true.”

A genuine smile slants over his lips, soft and lovely and oh, you don’t think your heart can handle it. You feel like you're melting, your pulse fluttering uncontrollably, and you know he can hear it. But Jasper doesn’t tease you like he usually would. He simply lifts your intertwined hands, lips ghosting over your knuckles. 

“You are everythin’ I never even hoped to wish for, darlin’,” Jasper murmurs.

Nevermind that you’re in Forks High parking lot. Nevermind that a dozen people are still watching the two of you with confused expressions. Some loves only come once in a lifetime, and the moment you look into Jasper’s eyes, you know that this is it. 

This is your forever.

[mlm-writer]

Old Friend (Geralt x GN!Reader)

Pairing:  Show!Geralt of Rivia x Gender Neutral Reader (can be interpreted as platonic or romantic) Rating: Mature Words: 1670 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 21 - “I did what I had to do to protect those I love… I had no choice!” Note: Don't @ me for still posting things that were supposed to come out in October. Tags: angst, mention of Ciri & Yennefer, ft. Jaskier & Milva, murder and dark magic

Everyone would agree that Ciri was an unlucky girl with a life tainted by tragedy. Every time you spoke with her about her past, you felt a little pang in your heart. However, sometimes you envied her. The way Geralt reserved his warmest of smiles for his charge, the way the most powerful sorceress spent her time teaching Ciri and the power Ciri possessed sometimes made you feel like she was, in some way, a very lucky girl. 

You spent life on the run with Ciri, Geralt and Yennefer. Most of the time you felt like you were family, sometimes you felt like an extra, an unnecessary weight, but no one told you to leave. You had nothing to teach Ciri that Geralt and Yennefer couldn’t. They had it covered from sword to spells to alchemy. 

Then things kept going to shit and before you knew it, Geralt was flirting with death and Ciri was missing. You wanted to go find her, but Yennefer insisted you stayed with Geralt. “You can heal anything!” Geralt exclaimed as you exhausted yourself once more. He was capable of loud verbal abuse. You should’ve counted that as a win, but it was hard to, when Geralt was still bed-bound. 

“I’m doing everything I can!” You yelled back. Milva entered, her hand landing on your shoulder. It has been the same song over and over again ever since Jaskier revealed Ciri was on her way to Nilfgaard. Geralt proceeded to demand more of you. Milva forced you out. Jaskier was waiting for you with a brew of herbs that would help you recover your strength. “I’m really doing everything I can,” you sobbed by the fire. 

Jaskier put his arm around you, comforting you the best he could. “I know. He knows. He is just… Geralt.” You leaned against the bard, letting his body’s warmth seep into yours. You sat by the fire until it got dark. Jaskier eventually let you be to mull over your thoughts in peace. When you had the strength you used your magic on those that did appreciate it. You were weak, but even a little was for many enough to pull their foot out of the grave. 

Exhaustion gnawed at your bones. Your muscles felt like they were weighed down by the state of the world. You took a stroll out of the camp, trying to avoid Jaskier and Milva. They meant well, but their words were not enough to distract you from the power you lacked. 

When the lights of the camp were far behind you, you stopped walking. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, knees colliding with the muddy ground of the forest. From a secret pocket sewn into the coat you’ve had for over two decades, you procured an amulet you haven’t worn since you met Geralt all those years ago. The deep red gem reflected the light of the moon onto your eyes. Deep within the stone you could see an old friend. You promised Geralt you’d throw this trinket away; you promised you would never give in to temptation again, but despair had forced you quite literally to your knees. You clenched the charm tightly in your fist. “All is fair in love and war,” you whispered as you stared down at your fist, noticing how red light seeped between your fingers. “These are times of war and… I love him.”

Those words spoken aloud strengthened your resolve. You closed your eyes as you put the thin golden chain over your head, letting the amulet fall right where your heart was. As soon as that metal hit your chest, you felt an old friend occupying your mind once more. “I always knew you’d come back,” it told you. It gave you visions of how to help Geralt. The methods dancing on the grey moral spectrum, but led by these visions, you made your way back to the camp. You entered the tents of the sleeping patients you had helped earlier. You touched those that you didn’t think would make it to the morning. Their life force entered through your fingertips. They breathed their final breath. You felt the weak energy pooling together. One tent, two, three, you passed though the whole camp, taking what you needed from those that were not likely to hold onto it for long anyway. Each time you took, darkness rose to your skin, revealing your deeds in the night. 

Your veins had turned black by the time you entered the final tent. Geralt was fast asleep as well, too injured to even hear you entering, too unwell to open his eyes and ask you what you were doing there. A black tear rolled down your cheek as you placed your hand on his chest and let go of all the energy you had collected. The life energy of the people that died that night flowed from your chest down to your fingertips. In his sleep, Geralt inhaled deeply as the energy filled him. It only took a moment, but it felt like an eternity as you felt the weight of the lives you took to save the one most dear to you. 

When you were devoid of all the energy but your own, you collapsed on the ground, legs too tired to keep you up. You took deep breaths, trying to avoid looking at your hands. However, in the end you just needed to know how bad things were. You raised your palms, the sight - though expected - still horrifying. Your skin had blackened from the dark magic. Your hands felt fine though. “You did well. This is only the beginning of what we can achieve. You’re meant to take what you please,” the old friend’s voice echoed through your skull. The words were reassuring, but you knew all too well where things could lead. You reached for the amulet, ready to rip it off you. “You need me. Without me you’re useless. You can’t protect the ones you love.” 

Geralt had you once believe otherwise, but it only took one glance towards him to show you where his faith in you had led him to. Even the great White Wolf could be wrong sometimes. Defeated, you slowly let go of the amulet, allowing it to occupy its old spot. “Everything will be fine. You will be fine,” the being spoke through the amulet to you. You had heard those words a million times from Jaskier, but only now did they actually soothe you. 

The next morning you woke up from stirring on the bed. You hadn’t dared to leave the tent and slept on a chair. “Geralt,” you whispered, aware of your surroundings the moment your ears picked up on the rustling of blankets. You forgot what you looked like, immediately rising from the chair and joining Geralt at his side. You inspected the wound on his leg, but it was not there anymore, a new scar adorning his skin. 

Your eyes didn’t meet Geralt’s until he sat up on his own. “What did you do?” His voice dripped of venom. You lifted your head to meet his yellow eyes, darkened by the deeply furrowed eyebrows. Your throat felt tight, so tight that not a single syllable could make it through to the cold space between you and the Witcher. He called your name and reached out. You were frozen in place as his calloused fingers traced the black marks on your face. “What did you do?” He repeated the question, emphasising each word with urgency. 

Black tears pooled in your eyes, the first few already rolling down your cheeks by the time you found your voice once more. “I did what I had to do to protect those I love…” You swallowed a lump in your throat. “I had no choice.” Your voice trembled, each word shaking more than the previous one. 

Geralt was visibly seething as he grabbed your arm, his grip tight. “What did you do?” He demanded, voice booming in the small space. You tried to free yourself. 

“Geralt, please, you’re hurting me!” “Say it!” 

He knew you. He knew you from the moment he met you. He knew the person you could be once you gave up on your ‘old friend’. He knew what you did then and he knew what you did last night. He knew, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to be wrong. He wanted to have mistaken that familiar amulet around your neck. However, things were exactly as it seemed and just like things never changed, Jaskier and Milva came in right on que. 

Jaskier called out for Geralt, tried to calm him. He immediately commented on how he seemed to be better, proceeded to ask how. Meanwhile, Milva freed you of Geralt’s grip. A crowd had formed at the entrance, but you couldn’t see anyone in the room but Geralt. “How many have died tonight?” Geralt demanded to know, Jaskier and Milva now in between you two. They tried to calm him. “How many?” He roared. 

His fury eventually ripped the answer out of you. “I don’t know! I only took from those that were not likely to make it to the morning anyway.” 

“Jaskier…” Geralt’s voice was quieter now he got his answer from you. He turned to the bard. “How many people died tonight?” Jaskier turned to Milva, hoping she held the answer. 

“42,” she spoke with surprising steadiness. She then looked at you, shaming you with her eyes alone. She was not the only one who despised your existence after that night. Jaskier pleaded for your life, then left with Geralt to find Ciri. You had to go your own way, fend for yourself once more. If it wasn’t for your aching heart, it was like you never met the Witcher at all. He never wanted to see you again, but even as you walked with your backs facing each other, you felt like you would see him again. It was a funny thing… destiny. 

—————

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[prythianpages]

A Field of Dandelions | Azriel

azriel x green witch reader | Your High Lady calls upon you. requesting a remedy that only you know how to make. It requires specific ingredients found between the courts of spring and autumn and you're in need of an escort. Unfortunately for you, she assigns her Shadowsinger to accompany you. The Shadowsinger who hates you...or so you thought.

“Please don’t talk to me like that.”

“Why?”

“It’s cruel and heartless and you don’t even realize.”

warnings: angst but with fluff at the end, mentions of self-hate/abuse. pretty much Azriel thinking he's not worthy of a mate.

a/n: I've been re-reading the Shatter Me series and there's a scene between Aaron and Juliette that drove me to make this along with the song Dandelions by Ruth B. The dialogue above is directly from the book Unravel Me. I used them as a writing prompt along with the general gist of the scene and added my own twist to it. I just wanted to put that disclaimer out there.

The door opens before you can even knock and your dear friend and High Lady pulls you into a warm hug. She beckons you inside with a smile and your eyes dart around the various paintings adorning the walls, finding that some are new.

Surprise etches onto your features when your eyes land on the Night Court’s Spymaster. He stands at the end of one of the winding staircases with his usual stoic expression. Still as devastatingly handsome as always. You drop your gaze as quickly as you had met his and if he notices it, he doesn’t let it show. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge your presence.

Your ears pick up on faint crying. It grows louder and louder. Turning your head toward the source, your eyes land on Nyx. Despite being in the comfort of his father’s arms, his little features contort in pain. You greet your High Lord with a bow of your head, noticing the exhaustion on his face that mirrors Feyre’s.

“Is Mor on her way?” You ask, adjusting the strap of your bag. It’s full with all necessary tools and equipment you need for your venture.

Feyre had requested if you could make a tonic to sooth Nyx’s aches while he’s teething but your apothecary shop was unfortunately out of the main ingredient. Dandelion root. Not just any dandelion root but the ones that grow in the soil between the courts of Spring and Autumn and given the current tensions in Prythian and your status as a former Spring court inhabitant, it was not safe for you to go alone.

“Oh,” Feyre says as she takes the babe into her arms. You coo at Nyx and he blinks up at you, his crying coming to a stop. His lips tug up into a small smile and he wraps a tiny hand around your finger. “She is unfortunately caught up in Vallahan.”

“So then Cassian is to escort me today?” You ask again, looking up at your friend.

You catch the way she looks at Rhysand. They share a look and you know they’re communicating to each other through their mind. It’s Rhysand who answers you this time.

“Cassian isn’t fond of the spring, allergies and all.”

The Shadowsinger steps forward and your smile falls. You turn back to your friend, who gives you a sheepish smile in return.

“Azriel will be escorting you today.”

You almost want to say no. The thought of being alone with Azriel makes your stomach churn with unease and something else that you can’t quite discern at the moment. But Nyx begins to squirm in his mother’s arms with a pout and Feyre’s eyebrows knit in concern.

“Okay,” you sigh.

“Thank you so much for doing this,” Feyre says.

“Our son’s life is in your hands.”

Feyre slaps her husband’s arm with a roll of her eyes. “He’s not dying, Rhys,” she grumbles. “He’s just in some discomfort from teething.”

She then turns to Azriel with a stern look. The corner of her lips threatened to betray her. “Be nice.”

**

Azriel’s shadows envelop you both, whisking you away to the forest of the Spring Court. It was the safest of the two courts to winnow directly to. The air in the dense woods hangs heavy with the scent of blooming blossoms and you’re thankful for the muffled sounds of nature as it provides a soothing background noise, saving you from the awkward silence between you and the impassive Shadowsinger.

Azriel walks ahead, his movements graceful and quiet. His shadows cling to him like the loyal companions they are but some hover over your boots, silencing your own steps. 

He finally breaks the silence. “You’re staring.”

You shift your gaze immediately and wonder if he can also sense the pink that dusts your slightly flustered face. “I’m just surprised you’re the one escorting me,” you answer honestly.

“It’s not like I had much of a choice,” he responds cryptically.

A slight tension settles between you, your heartbeat quickening as you follow him through the forest. “Right,” you say, your face growing pinker.

You shift the weight of your bag to your other shoulder and Azriel comes to a sudden stop. He turns, his hazel eyes scanning you for a moment. Without a word, he takes the bag from your arm, effortlessly hoisting it over his shoulder. 

The unexpected gesture catches you off guard, and a quiet "thanks" escapes your lips. “You’re being awfully nice today,” you can’t help but observe, a mixture of surprise and curiosity in your tone “I think this is the most you’ve talked to me since we met.”

Azriel’s lips curve into an almost-smile. A rare sight that sends a flutter through your chest. “My High Lady told me to be nice.”

“Right,” you repeat quietly to yourself as you exhale, a futile effort to calm your fluttering nerves. It’s almost embarrassing the effect Azriel has on you and as the butterflies in your stomach stir, you hope that the rest of the day unfolds quickly.

**

Mates. Two individuals predestined to be together, brought together by unseen forces and an irresistible bond. Azriel once wondered if he had a mate but after centuries of living, he began to wonder if he was simply destined to be alone.

When his brothers found their mates and he still hadn’t found his, he started to think he was far beyond the reach of love. It was a blessing he could not have. He didn’t need a mate, so he convinced himself he didn’t want one. Romance was not part of his duties and he was starting to come to terms with the fact. 

That is, until, he met you.

Nestled right on the outskirts of the area known as the Rainbow of Velaris was a quaint shop. The wooden sign above, engraved with dark letters spelling out Nightrose Apothecary, swayed gently in the cool morning breeze. Azriel had ignored the frenzied whirlwind of his shadows as he stepped into the shop.

Shelves made of twisted vines and wood were neatly arranged with rows of glass jars containing colorful powders, dried herbs and exotic roots. A friendly black cat, lounging on the sunlit windowsill, blinked at him in greeting. As he stepped further into the shop, his senses became overwhelmed with the prominent scent of lavender and chamomile.

Behind a worn, wooden counter is where you stood. You hummed to yourself, immersed in the book in front of you. He found himself unable to take his eyes off of you as you skimmed over the rough edged pages, your fingertips carrying an enchanting green glow and eyes filled with darkness. 

You were a witch but it was no surprise to him. He had heard about you. You were a good friend of Feyre’s. One of the few people she could trust during her time in the Spring court. When the Spring Court fell into chaos, Feyre had brought you with her and helped you open up this shop.

His steps were silent and he’s sure you’re unaware of his presence, so he shifted, parting his mouth to speak–

“Hello, Shadowsinger.”

His steps faltered, eyes widening for a fleeting moment.

When you finally lifted your gaze to meet his, his eyes locked with yours and something deep within him awakened. An exhilarating feeling like no other. He felt light. He felt alive. And he was almost afraid to blink, not wanting the feeling to end.

His shadows peeked out from behind his limbs, curious to see what had their master in a chokehold. They dispersed from his body in a thrilled dance as the darkness left your eyes, revealing their natural color. They’re beautiful and sparkling with kindness, even as his shadows disobey his silent orders and slither up your arms in a cool greeting.

“I’m sorry,” he found himself apologizing, a slight tint in his cheeks. “They usually don’t do that.”

“It’s okay,” you brushed off his worry and he felt lightheaded and bewitched at the smile you directed toward him. “What brings you here?”

Azriel can’t help but feel that you already know why he’s there. He pulled his gaze away, choosing to focus on the crystal orbs on the counter instead. “My High Lady recommended I come to you. I’ve been having trouble…sleeping.”

The green glow returned to your fingertips as you beckoned a small clear vial from one of the shelves behind you. It’s filled with a silver liquid that glistened as it moved, mirroring the twinkle of the stars that light up the night sky.

“This should help.” You told him as you held out the vial to him. “Take a sip before you’re ready for bed and it should quickly pull you into a restful slumber. Some say it even brings forth sweet dreams.”

Azriel nodded his head, taking the small vial from you with a gloved hand. He stored it carefully into the chest pocket of his leathers. His hands then dug into the pockets of his pants but you held out a hand to stop him.

“It’s on the house.”

“But–”

“Any friend of Fey–the High Lady’s is a friend of mine.”

His throat tightened as he realized it’s time for him to leave and he doesn’t want to. He’s caught in a whirlwind of emotions and finds himself torn between hope and fear. Or maybe he fears what it means to be hopeful because for once in his life, he wants something.

He wants you. His mate.

But as he thanked you for your kind gesture, he realized that the bond must have not snapped for you as it had for him. So he reluctantly went on with his day and when the sky darkened and stars awakened, he took a sip from the small vial. He had the best sleep of his life that night and dreamt about you.

The next morning he asked Rhysand and Feyre about what he had experienced because he couldn’t believe it himself. They confirmed his suspicions and they were both delighted. Feyre even more so as you were her dear friend.  

She had taken it upon herself to bring you two together. Her first attempt was a family dinner. It was going well until Elain had spotted a spider and upon the small scream she let out, Nesta had rushed to kill it for her. Your distress was impossible to turn a blind eye to and Feyre quietly asked if you were alright.

“It didn’t need to die,” is all you quietly said, your eyes lined with silver.

Witches were one with nature and given your niche with herbs and creation, Azriel realized the depth of your admiration for all life that night. Then, another harrowing one. You were so innocent, so pure. He was guilty, hands tainted and stained red. He didn’t deserve you.

The Cauldron must’ve made a mistake.

Feyre was undeterred so she gave it another attempt, despite Azriel’s protest. She arranged a night out at Rita’s for the Inner Circle and invited you. Azriel didn’t plan on going but Rhysand had made sure his schedule was clear and when Feyre had sent him an image of you in a skin tight dress, he came as quickly as he could. 

But it was too late.

He arrived to find a high fae leaning toward you in interest and you were smiling at him. A smile Azriel wanted reserved just for him. The male had placed a hand at your waist and Azriel felt his stomach churn when you laughed at something he had said. A sound he wished to be the cause of. You seemed happy and who was he to stand in your way?

The male was everything Azriel was not. Blond, blue eyed and perfectly smooth hands–hands that were all over you and welcomed by you. He unconsciously hid his scarred hands behind his back and when your gaze met his across the room, he looked away. 

Azriel was not worthy of you. He didn’t deserve to have you as his mate. So he reminded himself that romance was not part of his duties and convinced himself that the Cauldron, had indeed, made a mistake. 

He couldn’t bear the thought of being just a friend to you. The mere idea pained him so much that he pushed you away. He didn’t return to your apothecary when he finished the vial you’d given him–not even when his nights became restless again and dark circles appeared beneath his eyes. When he’d see you walking along the streets of Velaris, he’d turn the other away and when you would visit Feyre and he was there, he’d find an excuse to leave.

But there was one thing he couldn’t shake off–the primal instinct to protect you. It was the least he could do for you as he felt indebted to you for the Cauldron’s mistake. 

So when he heard you needed an escort to the border between the Spring and Autumn courts, he was the first to volunteer, despite Mor and Cassian also offering.

**

It’s as if the ground beneath you comes to life in your presence. Birds fly over you, chirping and singing a beautiful melody. As you pass, buds blossom into beautiful flowers as if enchanted by you. Even the animals emerge from their hidden abodes. The squirrels playfully dart between branches while a family of deer gracefully emerges from the trees.

It becomes evident that nature itself is captivated by your presence. and it extends beyond nature, weaving its magic onto Azriel as well. It reaches into the very heart of the Shadowsinger, casting an enchanting spell that even he cannot escape.

A blue butterfly dances playfully around Azriel. It startles him, pulling him out of his trance and you can’t help the small laugh that escapes from you. You raise a finger and the butterfly lands on it softly.

“Hello, little one,” you coo softly. You turn to Azriel, holding out your finger to him. “Would you like to hold it?”

“No.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you scared of a butterfly?”

Azriel does not answer your question. Instead, his eyes dart around the forest that still stirs with liveliness around you. “What happened to keeping a low profile?”

“Sorry,” you apologize, even though it’s not your fault. The butterfly grants you one last flutter of its wings before flying away. “I can’t help but be admired by many.”

Azriel lets out a hum. You’re too distracted to pick up on the subtle resonance of agreement, your eyes widening as the meadow finally comes into view in the distance.

**

You inhale deeply, flooding your senses with the sweet and delicate fragrance surrounding you. Time seems to slow and your worries dissipate away as you kneel down, gently touching the soft sea of green, white and yellow. The gentle sway of the dandelions is mesmerizing almost, their feathery plumes catching the morning breeze like wishes aching to be set free.

Azriel watches you and his eyes are a reflection of an adoration deeper than any meadow bloom. There’s a bittersweet ache in his chest. You close your eyes, a serene expression on your face. Strands of sunlight weave through your hair, creating a halo of warmth and Azriel finds it hard to breathe when your lips bloom into a tender smile.

Your eyes open and meet his hazel eyes and suddenly, he’s looking away. He clears his throat, eyes looking around the field. “What’s so special about this place?” He asks, a desperate attempt to reclaim the distance between desire and reality.

“All life is a delicate balance of give and take. Spring brings forth new life and beauty, new beginnings. Autumn leaves showers of gold, recognizing the temporary nature of all things. “ You answer as if it's common knowledge and upon the bewildered expression on Azriel’s face, you offer the simpler explanation:  “The soil between Spring and Autumn is very potent.” 

“These are weeds. They’ll grow anywhere.” Azriel deadpans. He regrets it immediately at the slight frown that forms at his casual dismissal.

“You may see a weed,” you begin, plucking a single dandelion from the ground as you rise to your feet. You approach the Shadowsinger. “But I see wishes.”

You extend the dandelion to him with a softness in your eyes that he’s never been on the receiving end of. “They say a single dandelion possesses the power to grant one-hundred wishes. But their beauty lies in their resilience because when they fall apart, they simply start again. A reminder to us all of boundless hope.”

Azriel hesitates, his gaze fixed on the dandelion. His gloved fingers brush against yours and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what your skin would feel like against his. The mere thought dares to send a shiver through him but he swiftly pushes the thought away.

You smile at him as he carefully accepts the stem from you. His shadows remain dispersed around the field but from where he stands, he can feel them vibrating joyfully. Your smile is so bright, so dazzling and for the first time since he met you, it’s all for him.

A sudden warmth floods through him, a sensation he never anticipated, and he finds himself utterly captivated.

“Make a wish,” you whisper to him, your voice a gentle prompt that lingers in the air like a spell waiting to be cast.

Azriel is not one to believe in things like this but he finds himself surrendering to the magic of the moment. For you.

Under the tender gaze of a field of dandelions, he closes his eyes. He lets out a silent breath, and makes a wish. A breeze courses through you both in that moment. The dandelion’s wispy seeds take flight, unraveling into a fine constellation of possibilities. 

The soft bristles of hope travel through the air and find their way to you and a laugh escapes from you in response to the tickling sensation as they caress your face.

Azriel’s heart feels strangely gentle–as if the weight that often accompanies his existence has momentarily dissipated. His entire body seems to soften in the glow of your laughter and a rare smile forms on his face.

He’s stuck in a trance, mesmerized by you, failing to catch the sounds of the creatures approaching.

Before he knows it, there are arrows whistling around you both. He barely has enough time to respond as one hisses by his ear and darts to you. He immediately raises his hand up, his shadows rushing to the rescue and forming a protective shield around you both.

**

Your eyes are wide as you stare at the tip of an arrow that is a couple of inches away from you. It’s coated with blood. Azriel’s blood.

Your breath hitches at the sight. There's an arrow embedded into his gloved hand and if it weren’t for Azriel’s other hand at the small of your back, you would’ve fallen backwards.

“Are you alright?” His gaze is examining you carefully, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

You blink at his words. “Are you alright?”

“Well, well, well.” A voice drawls followed by deep, rumbling growls from the hounds that surround you. They’re kept at bay by Azriel’s shadows. “What do we have here?”

Azriel turns around, ready to face the threat head on. His shadows remain at your side protectively. Some slither up and down your arms, their touch aimed at offering comfort and reassurance. 

“Eris.”

The red head smirks and his teeth flash when he catches the sight of the Shadowsinger’s injured and bleeding hand. “My apologies,” Eris sneers. “If I had known it was you, I would’ve aimed for the heart.”

A sound escapes from you–one you didn’t know you were capable of making and you step out from the shadows. It draws Eris’s attention to you. His amber eyes drink you in and you feel Azriel stiffen beside you. The Autumn’s male’s eyes land on the obsidian necklace around your neck and they narrow.

“What is a witch doing in my lands?” His hounds that are still surrounding let out another growl, prompted by their master’s tone of voice. They snap their teeth menacingly.

But you’re unfazed.

Perhaps, it’s Azriel’s protective shadows or the overwhelming anger set alight by Eris’s words that grant you the confidence and push you forward. Your eyes fill with darkness, resembling a night sky without any stars and Azriel can feel the energy coursing through your veins as you call upon your magic.

“Keep wasting the air with that breath of yours and I might just cur–”

A hand comes over your mouth, stopping you from saying anything else and you’re being pulled flush into Azriel’s chest. You grimace at the taste of leather and squirm only for Azriel’s arms to tighten around you.

“Cute,” Eris remarks with a hint of amusement but there’s an unmistakable fear that flashes in his eyes for a short lived moment.

 “We’re just passing through,” Azriel states, his voice void of emotion. 

Eris observes you both in contemplative silence. He must discern something in Azriel that prompts him to stand down. With a thoughtful hum, he gracefully turns away. His hounds follow suit and as he walks away, he calls over his shoulders: “Make it quick.”

You watch as Eris disappears into the forest, still wrapped tightly in Azriel’s arms. It isn’t until Eris is completely out of view that you squirm again and without thinking, you bite on his gloved hand. Hard. Azriel flinches and finally releases his grip on you.

You turn to him with a glare that he returns.

“Threatening to curse the heir to Autumn? Are you out of your mind?”

“I should curse you for stopping me!” You exclaim, crossing your arms with a scowl. Your gaze then softens as you quietly add:  “He hurt you.”

“Gods,” Azriel breathes, stepping away from you and tilting his head backwards. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“You mean besides piss you off by merely existing?” You huff as you snatch your bag away from him to get the jars you brought. “Can’t imagine it gets any worse than that.”

**

The walk to your apartment is silent and you begin to wonder if you should apologize for your outburst earlier. It was not within your nature to raise your voice at anyone…or harbor anger toward someone. But Eris had tried to hurt you, hurt Azriel and then shamelessly sneered about it.

Azriel follows you into your home, watching as you set the ingredients you collected down. He expects you to bid him farewell and kick him out but as you turn to him and your gaze falls to his injured hand, you sigh.

“Come on,” you offer, reaching out for his hand and he recoils. You frown.  “Does it hurt?”

“No.” 

You know he’s lying by the way his jaw clenches and you can’t help but notice that he appears to be repelled by your touch. You almost laugh. “I promise I won’t curse you. I actually never cursed anyone before.”

Azriel’s expression remains unreadable.

“Just let me see. I can help you.”

“I’m fine.” He says through gritted teeth.

“You’re bleeding all over my floor.” You say in hopes to get him to accept your help and when it doesn’t, you cross your arms against your chest. “Do you really hate me that much? To be repulsed by my touch?”

“I don’t hate you.” Azriel confesses and his voice is much quieter, much softer when he speaks again. “I could never.”

Azriel holds your gaze in contemplation for a long moment. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see his shadows pushing him toward you so you try again. This time, when you step forward, your hand reaching for him, he doesn’t pull away. 

 “Sit,” you tell him, nodding your head at one of the chairs in your kitchen. 

With a hard swallow, he does. He is entirely still as you hold his gloved hand in yours. Even his shadows are eerily still as if holding their breath. His eyes are boring into you with an intensity that heats your skin. You bring your other hand up, a soft green glow emitting from your fingertips. With the help of your magic, you carefully take the arrow out, drawing a sharp gasp from him. 

“Sorry,” you say, turning your attention to his glove next. You use your magic to remove it as well, not wanting to cause him any more pain or discomfort.

As the green mist of your magic dissipates, revealing the scarred skin beneath, your eyes widen. The scars are extensive, streaking around his fingers and the palm of his hand and the bleeding gash in the middle is nothing compared to them. You lift your gaze to meet his only to find his eyes are dead of emotion.

“Azriel.” You breathe and it’s the first time you’ve ever addressed him by his name and it sounds so pretty, so beautiful but the way you’re looking at him…

“Don’t.” His throat feels tight and he starts to withdraw his hand from yours but you stop him. You want to know who hurt him this deeply. Today was a day of firsts for you–first smile from Azriel, first time you ever felt so angry, first time you growled at someone and you were more than willing to add another first to that list. Cursing someone.

But Azriel looks like he’s about to break so you push your rage aside. Realization dawns on you as you now understand why he’s always wearing gloves around you, why he avoided you at all costs before. Your heart aches.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” you say softly as you begin to heal his hand. “Your scars may forever carry their stories with them but they do not define you. Your heart does and I can see it now. It’s bright and beautiful. You’re beautiful and–”

“y/n,” he almost begs. “Please don’t talk to me like that.”

The gash on his palm is now completely healed and you tighten your hold on it. “Why?”

“It’s cruel and heartless and you don’t even realize.” His voice drops to a pained whisper and his eyes are fluttering shut, body trembling. Shadows cling on to him, embracing him in an attempt to comfort their master. You’ve never beheld anything more heartbreaking.

“Do you think that lowly of me?” You begin, your voice quiet. “That I would be put off by your scars?”

When he doesn’t answer, your free hand reaches for his face, lifting his chin up. But his eyes are still closed and deep lines form on his forehead because your skin is so soft, so warm and he’s not worthy.

“Azriel,” you steady your breath. “You’re my mate.”

His eyes shoot open, hazel orbs glistening with tears as he looks up at you. “You know?”

“I’ve known since the moment I met you.” You confess with a pained smile. “I wanted to tell you right away but I didn’t want to scare you and when I was ready to tell you, you were avoiding me. I thought you hated me because, well, I’m a witch and not everyone is fond of them.”

“But that night at Rita’s–”

“My stupid attempt at making you jealous,” you explain to him sheepishly. “I thought it would prompt you to talk to me but it backfired immensely.”

Silence falls over you two. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “For what?”

“For being your mate.” Azriel responds. “I don’t deserve you. My hands are not only scarred but stained red. I’ve tortured many. I’ve killed many. You value life but I take it.”

“I value innocent life. It’s my duty to protect nature–to protect those that cannot speak for themselves.” You clarify. “I understand that it’s your duty to protect this court. I don’t see you any different for it.”

The hand at his face drops and you use it to remove the glove from his other hand. Your hands grasp onto his larger ones and you lace your fingers with his, embracing the thickened and roughened skin. Azriel’s breath hitches.

 “This can’t be real,” he murmurs to himself, dropping his gaze. “In that field of dandelions, I wished upon every one of them. For you.”

“Magic doesn’t work that way,” you tell him with a smile as an overwhelming rush of tenderness comes over you. “It cannot create or destroy love. It can only heighten what is already there.”

Azriel’s expression softens and he looks back up at you. Half terrified. Half hopeful. “So this is real?”

You decide to show him instead by leaning down and kissing him. 

Azriel’s body relaxes and then he’s using his hands to tug you forward and onto his lap. He kisses you back. Deeply and desperately. He places his hands on your face, your neck and then they’re at your waist, slipping under your shirt. He wants to feel your skin, all of you and you welcome it, arching into him because his touch feels so good.

It stirs a light of desire in you–a desire so bright that it rivals the sun and blossoms flowers of its own. A desire to love and be loved. 

“What else did you wish for?” You gasp out when you both pull away for air. His hands are right under the curve of your chest and he leans his forehead against yours.

His breath is heavy but he smiles at you and you engrave the image into your mind because you’ve never seen anything so beautiful. You’re inclined to ask Feyre to paint it for you later.

“My only wish was for you to be mine.” He confesses, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Done.”

And then he’s kissing you again.

Azriel has heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime–he’s seen it come to his brothers. He never thought it would come to him but he’s pretty sure that you are that love of his and he was a fool to push it away. He knows this now because when he gazes into your eyes, he can see forever in them.

here's an alternate scene, where y/n is the one who says "please don't talk to me like that" instead of az: read here

here's a scene if you're curious about feyre's reaction: read here

if you're interested in reading more about this au you can find the masterlist for this series here

[nebuladreamz]

Potential future scene for Starlit AKA an excuse for me to doodle my goofy guy Eclipse I fuCKING LOVE HIM YOUR HONOR

[nutsuya]

content. f! reader, no warnings, nothing. I’m in love this big ball of sunshine ;;

thinking about moving to a new place, sharing a little rooftop garden with your new neighbor — the upbeat guy that always seems to have an extra smile tucked in his back-pocket, umemiya. ray of sunshine that he is, his side is always blooming and growing, and yours simply pales in comparison to his. so much, that you almost considered forgoing the idea of taking the only spot next to his lot. gardening has always been a struggle for you but it’s ‘one of those things™’ that you do even when you’re not good at it just because the mere act of it makes you happy.

overtime, you start to wonder why your plants seem a little happier by the day, finally seeing that one stubborn seed sprout after over a month of perseverance — well, 50% persevering, 50% crying in agony. you suppose it has something to do with you resorting to doing ‘bountiful harvest rituals 101’ in your desperation, which mostly consisted of whispering sweet nothings to the dirt. but you, of sound mind, know that there must be more to it.

after thorough investigation (a.k.a. hiding behind the rooftop’s rusty ol’ toolshed) you find out that your golden retriever of a neighbor has been secretly tending your side, whispering sweet nothings to the dirt. it seems that ‘bountiful harvest rituals 101’ does work after all.

you even overhear him tell your little seedling, “can’t wait to see the smile on her face once she sees how big you’ve grown!”

[qrrieterisunnq]

The Swiss Love Charm AU

he fell in love with her and her little one, even though she wasn't his

SUMMARY

Family can be different and for a long time, it was just Ainsley and Freya her two-year-old daughter. She never thought that someone would want her with a child, but when she meets Nico there's something different about him. He actually likes her for who he is, and when he finds out she has a daughter it doesn't scare him, he even falls in love with the little princess who calls him 'grizzly Nico'.

DISCLAIMER

if you have any thoughts, blurb ideas, questions, scenarios, or Instagram post ideas for this AU my asks are open. Thoughts for this AU can be found under this tag the swiss love charm au

FICS

THE WORST AND THE BEST DAY - Ainsley and a few of her friends decide to go to a party after a long day at work. A few drinks later she’s dancing with some guy, who drugs her drink. When her friends find her, she’s in a bad state.

DEVILS VS CANUCKS - Ainsley meets Nico for the first time at the game Canucks play against the Devils.

BLURBS

▻ n/a

IMPORTANT AU THOUGHTS

the swiss love charm au basics

meet ainsley hughes

⬅︎ navigation

[sotwk]

On my drive today, I passed gorgeous fields and hillsides of yellow wildflowers and even though they weren't dandelions and it wasn't Pelennor, I instantly imagined Boromir crouching to harvest bunches of those wildflowers to bring to his lady love and suddenly the world was extra magical.

That is what fanfiction does.

I love spring.

(Dandelions is that Boromir x Reader fic.)