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infamous-light · 2 days ago

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You Belong to Me Ch. 12

Alcina Dimitrescu x F! Reader

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch. 9 Ch.10 Ch.11

AO3: You Belong to Me

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu's obsession knows no bounds as she becomes increasingly possessive over you. Will you succumb to her dark embrace, or find a way to break free before it's too late?

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Yandere, possessive/obsessive behavior, suicidal thoughts/attempt

The weight of everything pressed down on you like a suffocating shroud, each breath shallow, as if the very air had turned against you.

It had been your last shred of solace, the belief that your family was safe. But now, even that had been taken from you. Worse still, Lady Dimitrescu made it clear – she wouldn’t hesitate to use them against you if you dared to disobey her again. Your hands trembled as they clutched the blanket, knuckles turning white.

Catalina.

She wasn’t safe either. She had risked everything to help you escape. She didn’t have to – but she had. And now, her life rested in your hands as well, because you knew exactly what Lady Dimitrescu did to those who crossed her.

Petra’s face flickered in your mind and your stomach churned. You could still see it – the way Lady Dimitrescu had towered over her, her claws slicing through the air. Petra hadn’t even had time to scream. The sickening crunch of bone. The spatter of blood… You squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to block it out. But it was useless. The memory was seared into your mind, a grotesque painting you’ll never be able to unsee.

Dark thoughts crept in – unbidden, yet relentless. What’s the point of fighting? What’s the point of trying to escape, of clinging to hope, when it only leads to more pain? You had already lost so much. Your freedom, your dignity, your peace of mind. And now, the lives of those you cared about hung by a single thread – one held firmly in Lady Dimitrescu’s cruel grasp.

Wouldn’t it be easier to just… end it? To take control of the one thing she couldn’t? The thought terrified you and yet it offered a twisted kind of relief. You wouldn’t have to live with the fear, the guilt, the constant knot in your stomach. You wouldn’t have to face the inevitability of more bloodshed, more loss. You wouldn’t have to endure her.

The bathroom door creaked open a moment later, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts, though you barely registered it. The faint scent of vanilla and rosewater drifted into the room, a lingering trace of her having freshened up. Then came the all-too-familiar click of her heels on the hardwood floor, each step sending a shiver down your spine. You didn’t look up. You couldn’t. Your body felt too heavy, your mind too numb.

“You’ve been awfully quiet this morning.” Lady Dimitrescu said, her smooth voice laced with something you couldn't quite place – concern? Annoyance? You couldn’t tell.

You said nothing. What could you possibly say? That you felt like a hollow shell of a person? That every waking moment was a struggle to keep yourself from falling apart? That you were drowning in guilt, fear, and hopelessness? Even if you wanted to speak, the words wouldn't come.

Lady Dimitrescu stepped closer to where you sat on the edge of the bed, her presence making the air grow colder, heavier.

“Look at me.” She commanded, her tone leaving no room for defiance.

You hesitated, your body taut with tension. When you finally mustered the strength to lift your gaze, her piercing golden eyes met yours. They were as beautiful as they were terrifying. They seemed to see right through you, peeling back every layer until there was nothing left but raw vulnerability.

Her brow furrowed, a flicker of frustration passing over her features. “You’re distant. I don’t like it when you’re distant.”

The absurdity of her words almost made you laugh. Of course, she doesn’t like it. She doesn’t like anything that’s beyond her control, and you – your thoughts, your feelings, your very existence – are no exception. But you didn't laugh. You didn’t react at all. You just sat there, staring at her, feeling like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Lady Dimitrescu's lips pressed into a thin line, and for a fleeting moment, she looked… troubled. Her eyes, however, never left yours, still searching, as if trying to decipher the storm raging inside of you. She reached out, her fingers grazing your cheek, and you flinched at the contact, a reflex you couldn’t suppress.

“I understand that these past few days have been difficult for you,” Lady Dimitrescu murmured, almost thoughtfully. “But I know you're more than capable of enduring this. I wouldn’t have chosen you otherwise.”

Her words stung more than they soothed. Chosen.

You were little more than a possession to her – something to claim, something to own. The realization never grew any easier. Slowly, you lowered your gaze, unable to meet her eyes any longer.

“Don’t,” Lady Dimitrescu said sharply. Her fingers seized your chin, forcing you to meet her gaze. “Don’t retreat into that little corner of your mind. You’re mine. Body, mind, and soul. I won’t allow you to shut me out.”

A flicker of defiance stirred within you, but it was quickly snuffed out by the overwhelming tide of hopelessness. You nodded again, loathing yourself for surrendering so quickly, but what choice did you have? Resistance only brought pain, and you had endured enough to last a lifetime.

Her grip loosened, and she released you, her expression unreadable. “Good. Now, come along, pet.”

Without waiting for your reply, Lady Dimitrescu took your hand in hers, her long fingers curling possessively around your wrist.

***

Lady Dimitrescu led you through the shadowed halls of her castle, her imposing frame making the vast space feel smaller, suffocating.

She cast a fleeting glance down at you, her eyes sharp yet oddly playful.

“I thought a change of scenery might be in order,” Lady Dimitrescu mused, her voice light and airy. “Perhaps some time in the library would do us both some good. Get you out of my bedchambers for once.” A smirk tugged at the corners of her painted lips, the barest hint of amusement dancing in her gaze at the last few words.

You didn’t respond, but she didn’t seem to expect one.

As she pushed the library doors open, the scent of aged paper and polished wood enveloped you, welcoming you into the room. It was a grand space, the towering bookshelves stretching up toward the vaulted ceiling as if trying to touch the heavens. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting a warm golden glow that filled the room. Seated in one of the velvet armchairs was Daniela, her face lighting up the moment she saw you and her mother enter.

“Mother!” Daniela practically leaped to her feet, her golden eyes sparkling with excitement. “You’re here!” Without a second thought, she threw her arms around her mother's waist, pulling her into a tight embrace. “We can all read together! Oh, we’ve got so many new books!”

Lady Dimitrescu’s smile broadened, her gaze softening with a rare, genuine warmth. She placed a delicate hand on top of Daniela's head as the girl leaned in to hug her. “That does sound lovely, darling.”

In an instant, Daniela was in your space, darting toward you with an enthusiasm that was both unsettling and strangely contagious. She grabbed your free hand, squeezing it tightly.

“I’ve been so bored! Come sit with me. Let’s pick out something fun to read!”

Lady Dimitrescu let out a soft chuckle, releasing your wrist as Daniela eagerly tugged you toward the seating area.

You sank into a plush armchair, your muscles stiff as Daniela flitted around, pulling books from the nearby shelves and chattering animatedly about her favorites. Lady Dimitrescu settled into a seat across from you, watching with a satisfied air, her eyes lingering on you longer than you liked.

Time passed in a blur, the weight on your chest easing – just slightly – amid the comfortable hum of the library. Together, you all sat around, listening to Daniela talk about the plot of the story. For a fleeting moment, it almost felt… normal. Almost. But then your eyes caught something glinting in the morning light – a vintage letter opener resting on the corner of a nearby stand. Its handle was ornately carved, the blade sharp enough to be more than decorative.

For a split second, a dark thought occurred. You wondered how easily it could slip through your skin.

Just maybe...

Your pulse quickened, but you forced it down, steadying yourself. You stole a glance at Lady Dimitrescu and Daniela, their attention elsewhere as they discussed the next book to read. Slowly, carefully, you reached for the letter opener, your fingers closing around its cool handle. In one swift motion, you slipped it into your pocket.

“Darling,” Lady Dimitrescu's voice cut through the static in your mind. You froze, her gaze locking onto yours once more, her smile as smooth as silk. “Why don’t you choose the next book for us to read together?”

You swallowed hard, the cool edge of the letter opener digging into your thigh. “Sure.”

Rising to your feet, you moved to the shelves, scanning the rows of books that seemed to stretch on forever. You hesitated, fingers brushing over the spines, until one finally caught your attention – a weathered classic. Pulling it down, you returned to her side, offering it with a tentative smile. Lady Dimitrescu’s eyes sparkled as she accepted it, her fingers brushing against yours in a gesture both casual and intimate.

You settled back into the armchair as she began to read aloud to you and Daniela.

After some time, Lady Dimitrescu closed the book with a soft thud, her gaze shifting from the pages to you.

“Well,” she mused, a slight tilt to her head. “I think a break is in order. Lunch, perhaps?”

You blinked, the world slowly coming back into focus as a numbing heaviness settled over you, creeping through your limbs like a cold fog. It spread relentlessly, claiming every inch of your body until it finally reached the hollow space in your chest. And with it, the dark whispers of your mind returned, drowning you in their weight. You didn’t want to feel this way, but there was no escaping the turmoil within yourself. It gnawed at you, leaving you with no other choice if you ever hoped to be free again.

You knew what you had to do.

“Lunch sounds good.” You managed, offering a small, strained smile.

“I am getting hungry.” Daniela giggled, her voice light and playful.

“Excellent. Shall we?” Lady Dimitrescu replied, rising from the armchair with an almost effortless grace.

Before she could turn to lead the way, you hesitated. “Uh – my Lady. I need to use the bathroom first.” You murmured.

Lady Dimitrescu paused, her gaze settling on you as she granted you permission with a swift, dismissive wave of her hand. “Go ahead but be quick.”

She obviously didn’t suspect anything. Neither did Daniela.

You walked slowly toward the bathroom door, the weight of your decision growing heavier with each step.

Inside, you stood before the mirror, your reflection staring back at you with a mixture of dread and determination. A wave of nausea tightened your chest as the reality of what you were about to do sank in. But what other choice did you have? You couldn’t keep living like this – not as her pet, a plaything she dressed up and paraded around as if your will didn’t matter. Every choice had been stripped from you, your autonomy reduced to whatever pleased her. And as long as you remained in her grasp, she would never let your family or Catalina be safe again.

With trembling fingers, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the letter opener.

Your hands shook so violently that you could barely hold it steady. The small blade felt heavier than it should – cold and unyielding in your palm. Pressing your back against the wall, you slid down until you were seated on the floor, knees drawn to your chest. The room seemed to shrink around you, the walls closing in, and the air was thick and stifling, refusing to fill your lungs.

You stared at the blade. Sharp. Simple. It didn’t look like much, but it was enough. It had to be.

Your heart was racing, a frantic drum in your chest, like it knew what you were about to do and was desperately trying to stop you. You shook your head, swallowing the lump rising in your throat, but it didn’t help. Tears welled up, blurring your vision. You wiped them away with the back of your hand, but they kept coming, relentless and uninvited.

“It’ll be over soon.” You whispered, barely believing your own words.

The blade hovered above your wrist, its tip barely grazing your skin. You’ve read about how to do it – the right way, the way that works. Not across. But down the vein. Deep enough to matter. Your other hand gripped your forearm, anchoring it in place as your heart clenched with panic.

You almost couldn’t do it.

But the weight inside of you was too much, too heavy to bear for another day. Your thoughts spiraled in relentless loops. Your family. Catalina. Petra. Ingrid. Yourself. The darkness within you festered, stretching like a creeping shadow that threatened to consume you whole.

With a sharp inhale, you pressed down and dragged the blade, slow and deliberate. The sting came instantly, burning hot, and for a second, you feared you hadn't cut deep enough. Then the blood welled up, dark and thick, spreading in a thin line before it dripped onto the floor.

You were crying harder now, sobs breaking free as your body shuddered. It was so painful. The cut was ragged and uneven, but it was working. Blood trickled faster, warming your skin, and staining everything in its path.

The edges of the bathroom blurred, dissolving into a hazy softness. Your heartbeat, once frantic, slowed, the panic ebbing into something quieter, almost lulling. With a heavy exhale, you closed your eyes and leaned back against the wall. A strange peace settled over you, the crushing weight beginning to lift as the world dimmed around you.

Finally, everything was fading.

You barely had time to register the door slamming open before Lady Dimitrescu stood before you, her eyes wide with alarm, her breath sharp with urgency.

“No!” Lady Dimitrescu yelled. Her voice was raw, shocked in a way you had never heard before. In an instant, she was on you, her hands wrapping around the wound with a force that made you gasp. Her fingers trembled as they pressed desperately, as if trying to hold you together. “What have you done!?”

Her anger was palpable, nearly suffocating, but beneath it, there was something else – fear. Lady Dimitrescu gathered you into her arms, her voice dropping to a low, urgent whisper, almost desperate. “Stay with me. Don’t you dare leave me.”

Her eyes darted around wildly, her chest heaving with each sharp breath, her composure cracking at the edges.

“Daniela!” She bellowed, her voice cracking under the weight of her mounting panic. Daniela appeared in the doorway, eyes wide with confusion as she took in the frantic scene before her. “Get your sisters and bring the medical supplies to my bedchambers – now!” The command was sharp, but there was a tremor in her tone that betrayed just how much she was losing control.

“Y-Yes, mother!” Daniela stuttered, momentarily faltering before she dissolved into her fly form.

The world swayed around you as Lady Dimitrescu carried you through the castle halls, her steps quick and purposeful. You could hear her muttering softly to herself, her voice a low rasp, “Hold on... stay with me.” As if reassuring herself as much as you.

Moments later, she gently lowered you onto the bed, its rich velvet sheets cool against your skin. As your back sank into the soft surface, your vision began to darken again, drawing you into a quiet oblivion.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil village #resident evil fanfic #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil #resident evil 8

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dark-lord-of-awesomeness · 3 days ago

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Have no clue why but Princess Stan reminded me of this: https://youtube.com/shorts/AsoKo_ekkH8?si=0bRWi1TGMj2yhIjc

Also Princess Stan: ✨💅 Having a mental breakdown about being kidnapped by my Not-brother the dragon 💋✨👑

The rumors: So did you hear about this Princess getting kidnapped?

Farmer: Which one? They get kidnapped every other week?

Peasant: No, No, this one has like an epic backstory.

I just heard it down from the pub. So according to some buddies of mine, they said that the King of Catticus-ville had an affair, had an unborn child with a Fae. And that child is the Princess Stanelcella, who is rumored to have lived her life deep in the criminal underworld. There are stories of this fair maiden Princess not only stealing the hearts of half of the Princes in the realm but also was leading on the sons of several powerful crime lords. And since she’s half-fae, she can trick anyone with her wits and wile. She’s the most amazing trickster in all of the land. And I’ve heard if you get her on your side, she’d be able to see through spell bound contracts with deities and is able to break them, she’s that powerful.

But because the King did not want his wife to know about his child out of wedlock they say that he sold her to a dragon!! And currently there’s a humongous bounty to retrieve her, to either kill her, marry her or the Queen of Catticus Ville wants to investigate her husband’s child. (Probably to kill her though)

Farmer: Dear lord, that is fascinating my boy. Now run a long now, your wife is calling for you.

Peasant: Aye, I best not keep her waiting.

(Once out of sight)

Farmer: You can come out now, did you hear all that you wanted to hear?

Fidds: *dying of laughter*

Stan: (-᷅_-᷄๑)

Fidds: AHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Stan: Here’s your twenty silver, now do not speak of a word of this to anyone.

Farmer: You are quite an ugly Princess, sir

Stan: You take that back

Fidds: * wheezing* GONNA CLOG MY CIRCUITS AAHAHAHHAHAHA

Stan: You shut up

Every time a new knight shows up Stan gets increasingly bizarre tales of his beauty and power. Stan doesn't know where it's coming from. He's a guy! And also a regular guy! Where's all this backstory coming from! Who's making stuff up about him! Where did he get magic powers! What princes are out there daydreaming about him! He's a grown man! Stop!

Ford would also like them to stop :( this is his Stan, if they want one they need to find another one somewhere else. He got this one fair and square.

Fidds is def laughing at it all.

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #ford pines #stan pines #fiddleford mcgucket #dragon ford #princess stan

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the-froschamethyst4 · 2 days ago

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Paper Hearts

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Barrage x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, fluff, wholesome, language, kissing/making out, P in V, eating out, more use of Calvin, High School: nerdy! awkward! Barrage, popular! Reader, Adult Years: cocky! Barrage, innocent! Reader, children, married couple, groping, nipple play,

𖤐Summary: What started out as a small tradition by Barrage back in high school, still carries over into their adult years

————

A Week before Valentines Day High School

Cal was on the other side of the corner peaking his head out making sure, she wasn't there, quickly gaining confidence and walking to her locker, the one that was close to her Physics class, and the one she opens right when class is done.

He shoves a paper heart in between the grates of the locker and walking away, Cal was suppose to be in class right now but used the classic excuse 'I have to use the restroom' just so he could do this.

He goes back to class and sits down watching the clock now, he only has 20 minutes before class ends and he could go watch her open her locker and the paper heart falls out.

The bell rings and Cal gathers his stuff and rushes out of the classroom, going to the same hallway where her locker was, she wasn't there. Did she even see it? Did she read it and he missed it? Or has she not come out of the class yet?

Thoughts ran through his mind till he watched her come out of the classroom, her teacher behind her, they were talking about an upcoming project and she needed a bit more detail with it.

She tells her teacher thanks and opens her locker, as she did a piece of paper fell out, she watches as it lands on the ground and she picked it up.

A paper heart

She looks at it and smiles.

"Open it," Cal whispers and almost like she heard him through the loud and bustling crowd she opens it reading it.

A poem

Beneath Verona’s moonlit skies, Two hearts beat soft in love’s disguise. A whispered vow, a stolen glance, A fate entwined a fleeting chance.

O Juliet, my morning light, A rose that blooms in endless night. Your voice, a song, so sweet, so true, A melody the heavens knew.

O Romeo, my soul's embrace, A love the stars could not erase. Though walls may rise and daggers gleam, You are my life, my waking dream.

No name, no feud shall break our bond, For love defies what lies beyond. And though our breaths may fade to dust, In death, we love, in fate, we trust.

As she reads it, she just smiles and keeps the unraveled paper in her locker, she did know...her boyfriend didn't write this, hell, he barely did anything for her on Valentines Day, but it was nice to see someone cared.

"Hey babe!" Her boyfriend, Jake Preston, the schools famous jock, and most popular guy in the school, and Calvin's number 1 bully.

"Jake," she gasped.

"So, listen, I won't be able to hang out after school, I got practice but hey, we still on for V-day?"

"Oh that's okay, and yeah, we're good."

"Cool, I'll see you-what's that?" He points to the paper with the poem.

"Nothing," she shuts her locker. "I have to go to class, care to walk with me?"

"Sure."

Cal hated Jake with a passion, I mean who does like Jake? He's an asshole, a dick, and just a flat-out bully. Cal liked Y/n, but he didn't have the courage to speak to her, because of Jake and Y/n's friends.

Valentines Day

Cal had his backpack on and inside was a bear and a small heart box full of candy. He didn't know how to give this to her without a crowd drawing attention to them both. Cal hated the attention.

He sees her at her locker her friends next to her talking, but she didn't really seem interested in the conversation. Cal took a deep breath, he was going to walk up to her, and just hand them to her.

He moves his backpack over and dig for the items, but he bumps right into Jake, he knocked everything Cal had onto the floor.

"Jake-"

"Oh, look what we have here, little Calvin, who's this shit for?" Jake kicks the stuff that fell onto the floor. He turns his head seeing his girlfriend look at what was happening. "Oh, wait...was this stuff...for her? My girlfriend?" He says.

Cal just stays quiet as everyone looked at what was happening in the hallway.

"Baby! Tell this loser you don't want his gifts." Jake had so much power in this school, that if you define him, he could ruin your entire school year.

Y/n was at first quiet and looked at the items on the floor, if anything this was the most someone has given her, not even Jake has given her a stuffed bear and box of candy, maybe one measly rose that dies within a week.

"I...I am honored you wanted to give me these, but I am not interested," she says as she looks at Calvin, she feels bad for him, she knows he probably doesn't need her pity. But he just nods and walks away.

"Woah, woah, not so fast, nerd, we've got something special for you since you tried to give my girl some gifts."

"Jake, no please," Y/n begs as his friends held Calvin against the lockers and with people watching and cheering Jake on, Jake gave Calvin several blows to the stomach and face.

"JAKE STOP IT!!" Jake gives Calvin one more blow before a teacher came out, Jake's friends drop him and the students scattered.

Jake grabs Y/n's hand and quickly speed walked away from the fight.

"That was a rush!" Jake laughs. Y/n pulls her wrist out of his grip.

"What is wrong with you!!"

"What?"

"You didn't have to do that to him!"

"He was flirting with you!"

"If anything he was being nice, he was going to give me a gift, so what? It's the most anyone has done for me, you've never given me anything!"

"I'm taking you on a date, tonight, to a very fucking expensive restaurant and you want a gift from that freak!?"

"He isn't a freak, Jake, you're such an asshole, how could I've never seen that before! Take someone else, how about that girl that drools over you at your games? Huh? Take someone else! I'm not going and we're fucking over!"

"You're breaking up with me!?"

"Yes, and? I would rather be with someone like Calvin, then be with someone like you!" She storms off and saw that Calvin was being escorted to the nurses office.

She goes to her locker opening it and seeing the paper heart that Calvin, did for her, and she saw the items still on the ground from before. She picks them up and rips a page from her book.

She wasn't the best at origami nothing like Cal, but she turned that page into a paper airplane and went to the office.

"Y/n, what can I help you with?" The front office lady asked with a big smile on her face.

"Is Calvin up here?"

"He is...why do you ask?"

-------------------

Cal sat on the nurses blue bed, feet on the floor and he messes with his fingers, maybe he was wrong about Y/n, maybe she was just like everyone else.

A paper plane lands at Calvin's feet, he picks it up and unfolds it.

He had never known love not the kind that seeped into his bones and made the world feel softer. His life had been built on routine, on logic, on the certainty that love was for others, not for him. But then she arrived, laughter spilling like sunlight, eyes that saw him not just the man he presented to the world, but the one he hid beneath it. Her presence unraveled something in him, something he hadn’t realized was caged. It wasn’t fireworks or a grand revelation; it was quiet, steady, undeniable. A warmth in his chest, a longing in his hands, a certainty in his soul, he had found love, and for the first time, he understood what it meant to truly live.

"It's from my favorite book," a voice spoke from the door, he looks up not really wanting to, but he did.

"Why are you here?" He asked.

"I'm sorry for happened in the hallway...I...I didn't know Jake was like that...he was a kind soul, but I see he never really was..." she walks to him and sit next to him. "How's...your stomach and head?"

"Hurts," he mumbles.

"I liked the poem you gave me." He doesn't say anything. "Are you...mad at me?"

"I just don't like you like I thought I did."

"I understand that...but please know...I did like the gifts," she pulls them out of her backpack. "They're a little damaged but...they're still nice. It's the most anyone has given me."

"Doubt it."

"Doubt it? Why?"

"You're popular...surely people have given you better gifts then I did."

"Jake doesn't get me anything but a single rose that dies in a week, and most people don't care, I'll usually get a 'happy valentines day' or a lazy card...but you gave me candy and a bear." She just smiles.

"It's nothing," he says.

"It's something to me."

The room just goes silent and Y/n stares down at Calvin's hand still holding the paper. She was hesitant but placed her hand on his. He doesn't jerk it back or tells her to stop touching him, but let's her.

She leans over and kisses Calvin's cheek before standing up to leave.

"If you...come by my house later tonight...my parents will be gone, but we can...I don't know, my dinner and watching movies if you want to. That'll be a better Valentines Day date then a restaurant."

She walks out of the office and Cal was just stuck...he didn't move, and his heart was quick in his chest. Thumping against his ribcage. His heart and chest felt like they were going to explode at any moment.

--------------------

Monday, February 10th, 2025

"Mama, I don't wanna go!" Y/n's 5 year old daughter, Emmy whines, she didn't want to go to school, but her 7 year old son, Reed was all set.

"Well, you don't really have a choice, baby," Y/n coos at her daughter.

"Sure, I do," she says.

"No, not really baby. Come on, let's get going." Y/n hurries her children into the car so she could drive them to school.

Once Y/n had them buckled up, she drops down her sun-visor to see what was stuck in her eye, and once she dropped it, a small piece of paper fell out of it.

"Mama, what's that?" Emmy asked.

"Oh, nothing," Y/n sticks it in her cupholder to read it later, but it was a paper heart.

She drives her kids and played some of their favorite songs on the way there.

"Mama, baby shark!" Emmy yells.

"No, we listen to it every morning, it's so annoying!" Reed whines.

"One more time okay?" Y/n says, as she plays it pulling into the school's parking lot.

Emmy was singing it till the door opened by a school employee and both kids get out.

"Bye, babies!" Y/n says.

Once they got out, Y/n grabbed the paper heart and opened it.

Hand in hand, through years we roam, Two hearts entwined, one love, one home. Through whispered dawns and midnight dreams, We stitch our souls in golden seams.

Your laughter rings, a song so bright, A guiding star in darkest night. Your touch, a fire, steady, true, A love that time cannot undo.

Through storms we’ve stood, through joys we’ve danced, In fleeting glances, in a single chance. Not just in vows, but every day, I choose you still in every way.

So here we stand, my love, my life, Forever yours, your faithful wife.

Another poem, this one was about a husband and wife, she smiles and sticks the paper back in the cupholder till she got home.

-----------------

Opening the front door, no sign of her husband, he must be still in bed. She giggles and heads upstairs where she was right. Her husband Cal was still asleep.

She gets on her side of the bed and moves closer to Cal, leaning over him, she moves his hair from his face, she gently caressed his cheek and kissed it.

"How'd you get that paper heart into my car this morning?" She asked, there was a smile on his face.

"I did it at 2 in the morning," he says.

"You sneaky, sneaky man," he cups her face and brings her down to kiss her lips.

"It made you happy didn't it?"

"It did." She smiles.

He sits up and pulls her closer, his lips on her and deepening the kiss. It became very heated and passionate. He pulls her on his lap, his hands resting on her waist and her arms wrap around his neck.

"You went...to the school...in your robe?" He teased.

"I have pajamas on," she giggles.

"That one teacher wasn't there...was he?"

"Not that I could see."

Calvin hated this one teacher, he was old enough to be the kids grandpa, but he loved to hit on Y/n, not in some old man flirting, but in he would like to have someone young like Y/n in his bed every night, and Calvin hates it.

"Doesn't he...have a wife?"

"M-Maybe."

Calvin placed Y/n on her back and pulls her pajama pants down.

"No panties either, risking."

"It's not like I have to get out of the car, besides, I'm not the only mom who shows up in pajamas."

"No, but I bet they wear panties."

"Not like you've ever complained before," she teases him.

"You're right, it just gives me easy access."

He spreads her legs, pushing them to her chest and immediately licking his lips, he leans his head down and starts licking between her folds and then sucking on her bud, she lets out a soft moan, her hips leaving the bed, and her fingers getting tangled in his hair.

His hands held a tight grip on her thigh, her knuckles turning white as she grips the bedsheets. She opens her eyes and sees him shake his head while his tongue quickly moves back and forth, like he was hungry.

His left hand then moves to inside his pajama pants, pumping himself a few times before sitting up and pushing himself inside of her. Her head goes back and she was trapped between his hands and the bed.

Him thrusting into her hard and rough and almost at an ungodly speed. She was bouncing on the mattress, her breasts wanting to pop out her thin shirt.

Cal took it upon himself and just ripped the thin shirt, earning a soft moan from her as the cold air hit his nipples, making them stand.

Cal could feel himself about to cum, so, he starts slowly down, giving a few more thrusts he ended up coming along with Y/n, her head goes back as she let's out a few more moans.

Cal bends down and kisses both her boobs and then kissed under her chin, making her look at him, and soon his lips were on hers.

"Best morning," he says, she giggles and holds him close. "I need a shower," he pats her thigh. "Care to join?"

"Yes," she says, and with ease, Calvin stood up Y/n koala bear hugged him the whole way to the bathroom.

-------------------

Friday, 14th (V-Day)

Calvin gave his daughter a box of chocolate and a stuffed dog and gave Reed a new video game and stuffed bear.

He gave Y/n one of the best gifts, a bouquet of roses, box of chocolates, while Y/n and Calvin were in their bedroom, door closed and locked, and Y/n was giving Cal a fashion show with some lingerie she had picked up a few days ago just for Cal.

He sat back on the bed, staring at the bathroom door that was closed, he was only told by Y/n, she had a surprise for him once the kids are in bed.

"Hon, come on, now." He hears a giggle from the other side of the door and the door finally opens, she stood in a fluffy robe, and he just smiles.

"A robe?"

"Hang on now," she teased, she turns her back to him and slowly removes the robe, she let's it fall to her feet, but Cal was just staring at her bare ass on full display, she turned around to him and now her bare breasts were visible.

"Holy shit," he mumbles.

"Do you like it?"

"Love it honey, not like, love," he says, jaw on the floor, and she starts walking to him.

"You can't destroy this one."

"Destroy, when have I ever destroyed any of your sets?"

"A lot..." she says, giving him a bit of a serious look.

"Okay, okay," his hands traveled up her body, feeling the lace under his hands and parts of her bare body. He gets to her boobs, face going between them, kissing them both while his hands go to her ass giving her a nice squeeze.

"Holy fuck..." he curses under his breath taking in her scent. He stops and pulls away from her making her a bit confused, he hands her something.

A paper heart.

"One more for the night," he says.

It looked plane, but she opens it and just simple 'I love you' was written on it. She smiles, getting on top of him, arm wrapped around his neck and kissed his lips, his hands resting on her waist.

The kiss was heated and Cal fell back while Y/n was still above him.

"I love you," he repeats.

"I love you too," she pecked his lips.

-----------------

Calvin fell on his side of this bed, while Y/n held the blanket to her chest.

"Fuck..." he mumbles.

"Thank you for my gifts," she tells him.

"Thank you for mine," he chuckles giving her ass one last smack.

Cal looked at her as she snuggled closer into his chest. "I'm glad you came around."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean like when we were in high school...after...what happened...I for sure thought you'd hated me..."

"I couldn't...it wasn't your fault that day..."

"But I was a bitch-"

"No, you weren't." He cups her face. "Listen if you wouldn't have come to the nurses office, and talked to me, I probably would have hated you, but...you came and talked with me, you invited me to hang out with you, and then we dated...got married, have two amazing like ones...would you rather have this life with me or have it with that asshole?"

"I wouldn't have forgive myself if I just left you in the state you were in, but I love this life more then anything," she says, cuddling almost impossibly closer to Cal.

"Exactly." He wraps his arms around her and held her tight. "Get some rest." As he said that soft snores were heard from Y/n, he just chuckles, he turns to turn off his lamp and hold her back in his arms.

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #cod #barrage x y/n #barrage x reader #barrage cod #barrage

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bellysoupset · 2 days ago

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Hell yeah would ADORE a part two with Leo taking care of both of them?! He’s all “aren’t you two supposed to be doctors? How the hell did you let it get this bad” **proceeds to look after them like an absolute champ** 🍄

Not as much dialogue as you'd like, but who can blame them, they're very sick!

Part 2!

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Fridays were Leo's favorite day of the week. Not only because the weekend was near, but because he was able to leave work at 5 PM, normally, and Jonah had the morning shift at the hospital, so he would have been home since 2 PM. It was the best feeling in the world to come home to the apartment organized, because Jon was a neat freak, dinner already planned and his fiancé reading on the couch. It was a taste of forever.

So it was much to Leo's disappointment when he arrived home at 5:20 PM that day and found all the pillows from the couch thrown around and no Jonah. JD was frolicking in the living room, running to him as soon as he crossed the threshold, the little minx. Leo crouched down, "what are you doing, uh?" he pet her behind the ear, picking her up and dropping his suitcase on the messed up couch, "where's dad?"

It was weird to not find Jonah anywhere, not even a note or text telling Leo if he had gone on a grocery run or something. It was weirder when Jonah didn't text him back as Leo typed "Where are you? I'm home" and Leo was more than a little annoyed as he called Jon multiple times, as the hours passed, and received no answer.

As the clock ticked 8 PM, Leo's good humor had vanished and even his annoyance had been replaced by panic. Something was wrong and he could feel it deep in his bones, so Leo paced the living room as he called Wendy and got no answer.

"Hello?" Luke sounded confused as he picked up the phone at 8:30, "Leo?"

"Luke!" Leo breathed out, voice trembling as his heart hammered. Wendy not picking up her phone at all made him feel clammy, thoughts spiraling. They were probably together, right? For a second he considered all of his friends together without him knowing, "Jonah's missing."

"...What? What do you mean missing?!" Lucas voice raised as he spoke and Leo heard Bella talking in the background.

"Missing! I came home at 5 and he was gone and he's not answering his phone, not texting, and his car is not in the garage and Wendy's not picking up her phone either and- and the hospital said he's not there-" Leo pressed a hand to his face, trying to calm down, "I hope he's at Wendy's- I-"

"Babe," Lucas said and it took Leo a second to realize he wasn't speaking with him, "can you call Wendy? Leo's calling her and she's not picking up."

"Yeah, of course-" Bella's voice was louder, echoey as Luke put the phone on speaker. Leo sat down on the couch and JD crawled on his lap, pressing her head to his chin as they waited with bated breath as Bella's phone rung and rung, "uh... She's not picking up... I'll try again."

Leo's phone beeped and he pulled it off his ear quickly, thinking it was Jonah, but instead it was another doctor, Claire, who shared a shift with him.

Claire Hathaway 🩺: Hi Leo! IDK about Jon, but the hospital requested I fill in for Wendy this evening. She left early bc she's sick. Maybe that's why she's not picking up her phone?

Leo let out a little relieved sigh. This at least explained why Wendy wasn't picking up her phone, although it didn't explain anything about Jonah. He assumed Jon had left with her, probably driven her home, but why the fuck was he unable to pick up his phone-

"Leo?" Lucas' voice cut through his thoughts and Leo shook his head to focus himself.

"Sorry, uh- Claire, she's a doctor, texted me. She said Wendy left early because she was sick..."

"Oh, so Jon's probably with her," Bella sounded chill, not worried at all, "right?"

"Yeah, Leo, he's probably just helping her around-"

"I'm going over there," Leo interrupted, not minding one bit if he sounded overprotective or possessive. Something was not right and he could tell. Jonah would not ignore his 30 different texts, no matter how busy he was, "I- I'll let you guys know."

"Do you even have a key?" Bella snorted, sounding slightly amused, "kid, don't you think you're being a little-"

"Bell," Luke cut her off, before Leo could snap at her, "not now. Bell has a key to Wen's place, you can stop by to get it, Leo."

The blonde let out a sigh, thankful for Lucas forethought at stopping Bella and for his problem solving, "yeah, I'll stop by in 15, okay? Thanks."

During the whole drive there, Leo left his phone connected to his car's bluetooth, trying to call Jon again. Lucas was waiting for him, looking like he was fresh out of the shower, wet hair sticking out.

"Text me if you him?" Luke asked, walking to the car so Leo didn't need to get out, handing him Wendy's emergency keys, hanging on Bell's miniature guitar keychain, "and if you need anything?"

"Yeah, absolutely," Leo took the keys, taking a deep breath, "I swear to God, if they're just binge watching some show, I'll skin him alive."

Luke snorted at that, rolling his eyes, "as you should."

It was extremely weird to go up to Wendy's floor all by himself. Not that he had never been to her apartment alone, but he had never broken in and Leo couldn't help but hesitate as he unlocked the door.

However, as soon as he entered the place, he knew he had been right to show up. Wendy's purse was fallen on the ground, which triggered sirens in his mind, as she'd never carelessly throw her purse down like that. Jonah's phone was on the shelves that lined her entry wall, abandoned and marking only 10% of battery. 23 missed calls from Leo, 41 new texts from Leo and Lucas.

"Jonah?" Leo called, loudly, picking up Wendy's purse and planting it on the shelf, "Wendy?"

None of the lights were on, which again, horrifying. Leo switched on the lights, walking further inside, "guys?"

They, obviously, weren't in the living room. Not in the kitchen either... The guest bathroom looked like a minor fight had happened in it. The towel holder was broken, the towel crumpled on the ground, as well as Wendy's rainbow rug was tangled up and kicked away, there was blood on a tile-

"JONAH!" Leo shouted now, getting out of the bathroom and rushing to Wendy's room, his heart hammering in his ears. His mouth felt dry and the minute he walked in, it took him a whole half minute to understand what he was looking at.

Jonah was sprawled on Wendy's bed, lying on his stomach, arms all out- "Jonah," Leo leaped forward, hands shaking as he planted a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder and could contain his relief as he heard a snore. He couldn't even be angry, for a split second he had thought the worst, "Jon-" Leo pulled on his arm and only then did he feel the heat rolling off of him, "Christ, you're burning up..."

Leo looked around the room, head spinning as he situated himself. Jonah was fine. Found. Burning up... Where was Wendy?

He jumped up, circling the bed and genuinely thinking he'd just find her lying on the rug. Weirder things had happened so far. Instead, he found her in the suite's bathroom, curled up in front of the toilet.

She was tiny to begin with, so Leo's heart squeezed with a new wave of panic as he took in just how she had curled up into herself. Unlike Jonah, who was still wearing the same clothes from the morning, Leo could tell Wendy had tried stripping some of it off, because she was only wearing her bra, no shirt, and lilac pants that had a bloody mark on the knee.

"What the fuck..." He crouched down, touching her arm. Wendy was warmer than Jon, if that was possible, but she was also shaking and twitching like a puppy left out in the cold. Her face was really red and, unlike Jonah who was covered in sweat, she was dry to the touch, "Wendy?" Leo uncurled her, "Wen, wake up. Wendy-" he shook her, a little harder than necessary, and instead of her waking up, her head only lolled from side to side.

He should call a fucking ambulance.

Leo could smell the stomach acid in the bathroom, before he even realized the vomit in the toilet bowl. It wasn't much, just some chunks floating away, and he pressed the flush, while chewing on his lip and trying to figure out what the hell he should do. Ambulance. What would Jonah do? Or Wendy?

Making an executive decision, Leo threw her limp arm over his neck and picked her up, carrying her to the tub. He turned on the faucet, wetting his hands and starting to splash the water all over her face and neck, while the bathtub filled up, "c'mon, c'mon, c'mon-"

Wendy was completely unresponsive, which was not good, and then there was Jonah-

Leo grabbed Wen's wrist, to keep her from drowning, and then stretched his body as much as he could, stealing a glance at the bedroom. Jonah hadn't moved a muscle... "Stay here," the blonde mumbled, to the unconscious woman, before grabbing her pink towel and running it under the faucet until it was dripping wet.

He ran back to the bedroom, straddling Jon and grabbing his shirt unceremoniously, mess be damned. Jon let out a whimper at being rolled over, his eyes threatening to open, but seeming glued shut. He whined as Leo draped the soaked towel over his naked chest, but despite frowning in his sleep, didn't wake up at all.

He knew Wendy kept her first aid kit in the kitchen, whatever reason for, so Leo made a run for it. His head was spinning as he stuck the thermometer in Jonah's mouth, before rushing back to the bathroom.

Wendy had slid down on the tub, but the faucet was slow and the water only reached her collarbones. Still, Leo grabbed her by the armpits, forcing her up.

"No..." Wendy rasped out and he froze, hands squeezing her arms.

"Wendy!? Wen," he shook her again, since her eyes were still shut, "Wen, are you awake?!"

Instead of answering him, her teeth started to shatter.

Ambulance, the little voice in his head insisted and Leo hesitated, reaching for his phone on his back pocket. Wendy let out a groan and all thoughts flew out of his mind as Leo lunged forward, cupping her head, "hey- Hey, Wen, open your eyes," he patted her cheeks, gently, "open your eyes, Wen."

Half moons of drowsy green stared at him and Leo let out a hysterical chuckle, wetting his hands again and now wiping them all over her face, pushing back her wavy hair, "thank fuck..." he whispered, continuing to do that until the violent shivering and teeth shattering eased and she seemed to be breathing normally instead of the weird hyperventilating from before.

He needed to know how high was her temperature, Leo decided, then remembered about the abandoned thermometer with Jon. Fuck.

Jonah was a big guy, much bigger than Wendy, so despite clearly being severely ill, he was holding up better than she was. The towel had helped and while his temperature still read 102.3ºF, his frown had vanished and his eyes opened slightly as Leo retrieved the device.

"Uhmmmm..." He groaned, head lolling and Leo sat on the edge of the bed, cupping his face.

"Jon? Angel?" He whispered, despite the fact there was really no reason for him to keep his voice low. It just felt odd to talk loudly when he was the only conscious person in the room.

"Hmm-Leo....?" Jonah's eyes struggled to focus on him, but Leo's heart did a leap nonetheless.

"Yes," he leaned in, relieved, "I'm here-"

"Where'ssswen?" Jon slurred, looking around, his eyes widening with panic. Leo quickly grabbed him by the shoulders as it looked like Jon was about to sit up.

"Bathroom," Leo pushed him down against the, now wet, pillows, "shhh- I need you to drink some water for me, okay?" He stroked Jon's cheek, eyes scanning the room for Wendy's sparkly water bottle.

Thank God she was such a methodic person, Leo thought, finding the bottle on the opposite bedside table. It was half full and Leo was sure covered in germs, but considering they were already sharing whatever plague was this... He pushed the hard plastic straw in Jonah's mouth, "one gulp, baby."

Jonah obeyed, eyes slipping closed, and he took not one, but three gulps before grimacing and turning his head, causing the water to spill down his chin.

Leo stroked his arm again, retrieving the towel to wet it again, "I'll be right back," he promised, taking the bottle and the thermometer with him as well back to the bathroom.

Wendy was passed out, for good, and she didn't even stir as Leo maneuvered her around as if she was a ragdoll, stripping her of the lilac pants — there was the blood he had seen on the bathroom floor, a nasty cut on her knee and the blood had dried down her calf — and slipping the thermometer in her mouth as well.

He wet the towel once again, rushing back to the bedroom and now Jonah was sitting up against the pillows, but still had his eyes closed. They jumped open as Leo covered him with the cold towel once more, alarmed and bloodshot.

"Shhh, it's just me-" Leo shushed him, doing the same he had done with Wendy, planting his wet cold hands on Jonah's face and pushing his curls back, rewetting his hands with the bottle of water so he could do this multiple times.

Jonah let out a groan as he did that, curling up and Leo frowned, "Jon?"

"Wendy'sssick..." His head lolled to the side, "very-"

"I know," Leo stroked his cheek, "I know, I'm taking care of her too, don't worry. Worry about getting better," he leaned in, kissing his boyfriend's temple, "drink some more water, angel."

He left Jonah with the bottle this time, returning to the bathroom. Wendy hadn't stirred and Leo knelt by the side of the bathtub, retrieving the thermometer. 102.8º F, very alarming, but at least it wasn't over 103ºF, as Leo knew from Jonah rambling about it all the time that temperature meant hospital immediately.

"Goddammit," Leo sighed, now using the showerhead to start washing her hair. He kicked off his shoes and rolled his pants, sitting behind her, on the edge of the tub, and tipping Wendy's head back so no water got in her nose as he started to let the cold water run through her hair.

It took a couple minutes, but then he saw movement under her lids and Wendy let out a whine, "stooop..."

Leo smiled, continuing the makeshift hair washing for another ten minutes, until suddenly he heard a coughing fit in the other room. He immediately was jumping into action, propping Wendy back against the tub and rushing to the room, just in time to see Jon sit up enough to throw up all over his lap.

It wasn't much, basically just water and bile, but he coughed as if he was drowning in it and Leo's heart squeezed with worry as he crossed the room, cupping his hand on Jon's forehead.

"It's okay, I got you," he rubbed his boyfriend's back with his free hand, "get it up, angel, you'll feel better soon..." he hated the choked noise, Jon struggling to breathe, and the panicked sensation he was in way over his head.

Jonah let out a groan, a small burp sneaking up on him and he hung, folded in the middle, until Leo grabbed a clear end of the towel to wipe his mouth.

"I know you feel awful, baby, I'm sorry," he cooed, standing still as he waited to see if Jon was going to be sick again. He wasn't, instead he tipped to the side, so he could press his face to Leo's tummy, hiding it there. Leo let out a sigh, stroking his cheek.

Eventually he was forced to push Jonah away, so he could get rid of the ruined towel and check on Wendy again. Her fever had lowered, to 102.4ºF, so Leo picked her up and carried her back to the bed, figuring he'd have an easier time if he wasn't scared of Wen drowning every time he turned his back.

Finally, Leo settled on the foot of the bed, fishing out his phone in order to text Luke that he had found them.

TBC

#sickfic #mywriting #flu #influenza #fever #jonah banks #wendy marshall #🍄 anon #🦦 anon #<- part 2 of 🦦's request #emeto #emetophilia

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rist-ix · 9 months ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/rist-ix/749015401700229120 not you reblogging this when you ship bloom with the man who murdered her family 😭

Bloom's into ppl who slay! Hope this helps :3

#alright snark and ship wars aside i get where you’re coming from tho #if you're genuinely interested in my thought process here i would love to elaborate #which is exactly what I’ll do!#first of all! the post you linked is about headcanons #which my brain kinda wants to put into a whole different category than ships — fandom ships in particular! — but i can leave that aside #because there IS an argument to be made that relationships are an extension of characterization and personality traits #if you wanna go that route i would wanna explain that Bloom's and/or Valtor's interest in the other is in fact based on canon #(even though I don’t really think ships need to be established in the source material. make shit up that’s what fandom is for #1) the Andros episode speaks for itself. Valtor specifically tells the Trix to back off because HE wants to be the one to fight bloom #2) the episode before that he asks questions about her (and only her; even though he has more powerful enemies to worry about)#demonstrating curiosity about and interest in her #3) that same episode (or the one before; can’t remember) is their infamous first meeting #where time LITERALLY slows down as the pass each other on the stairs #they get IMPACT FRAMES #the whole color palette changes!!!#idk about u but I eat that shit up. love the drama of it all no one does it like them #I’m gonna skip all the instances where Valtor is spying on Bloom through his little scrying spell because oh god who has the time #let’s go straight to Bloom #if I had a week I would not be able to collect all the moments where she growls his name in pure fury and single-minded determination #she gets a little bit obsessed with him over the course of the season and I personally think that’s very sexy of her #Bloom is known for her tunnel vision when it comes to her past and origins and Valtor's existence fits PERFECTLY into that #it ties in neatly with her overarching story of the past 2 seasons #literally PERFECT foils #which always makes for the juiciest stories #4) she singles him out for a duel in the museum episode #5) she can literally feel his presence #6) the mere mention of his name sends her into her weird faux enchantix #of course there’s no romance in canon but there’s TENSION AND CHEMISTRY which is all u really need for a ship #all their animosity and bad blood is what makes it so INTERESTING to wonder how they COULD work. it’s the spice that makes for good fanfic!

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fictionadventurer · 3 months ago

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Maybe I need to write Cardinal's Map so there's a contemporary book about the power of literature and reaching for a world beyond the mundane that isn't wall-to-wall inspirational platitudes with vague worldbuilding about the battle between the forces of good vs. evil.

#i say as though i would be able to avoid trite inspirational platitudes and vague worldbuilding #anyway my driving-filled day had me listening to nearly half of 'nightfall in the garden of deep time'#and i do like it #but it seems to be an awfully long and wordy book for a very simple story #(maybe it's the author's librivox-ish narration and my increased listening speed making it worse but it's still a thing)#anyway the vague inspirational messages about the power of creativity are getting to be a bit much #especially combined with worldbuilding that's mostly cryptic statements about how important it is for art to be good true and beautiful #which is a good thing! it'd just be nice if it was even a little subtle about it sometimes #i feel like this suffers coming after the latest amanda dykes book #with a lot of beauty but also a lot of characters who spoke solely in artsy inspirational platitudes #and coming after that one mg time travel book #that was supposed to be about a bookshop bringing in people from across time #but turned out to mostly be 'books are good which means this bookshop is full of good magic that needs to balance evil magic'#which was very stupid and didn't make use of the bookshop part of the premise at all #and anyway those similarities are dragging this book down for me #actually 'once a queen' did a pretty decent job with these kinds of things #worldbuilding kind of vague and metaphory but overall still an actual world #and characters who learned lessons without everyone in their life speaking only to metaphorically discuss the theme #anyway the actual book in question has me invested #but also rushing through it to get to the story beats because it's taking too long to get there #starting to suspect this would have made a good novella #because we know she's going to have a creative epiphany so dragging out the metaphors only hurts things

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svtskneecaps · 5 months ago

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so what i'm putting together from osmosis and the wonderful livebloggers and the incredible arkanis english updates account is something like this

Prefeito Jota: Hello, I'd like to hire you to investigate what happened in my city/island(?)!

Bagi, who was previously "invited" to a mysterious island/city by its elected official, subsequently trapped on the mysterious island/city, investigated the deep mysterious history of the island/city, came to no conclusions, found her brother after years of searching, was separated once again from her brother, gained and lost an adopted daughter (possibly to being kidnapped by the island government, which was evil), gained and lost a demon fiancée (possibly to being dragged back to hell, so there's no way to find her), gained and lost a close demon friend to dubious circumstance (did he die for his children? is he with skeppy in the gas station?), and has had an unknown amount of time to process and/or suppress all of this: Sure! :D

#ah shit now i gotta tag this #arkanis #qsmp #qsmp bagi #q!bagi #long tags #hopefully that covers it for people who don't care abt the lore tie-ins; i think they'll be able to filter this post #this is mostly a qsmp post so i hope you are able to filter it at your leisure :)#i try very hard not to bug have a good week :D #shut up vic #block game brainrot #is valigma an island or a city i'm unclear on this #or is it a city that's on an island #is there an island??? there's not. there is. where were they travelling. there was a boat i know that #fe//lps crashed the boat there's gotta be a port somehwere close by #but it could just be a port city.... is it an island??#brother i'm cooked i don't speak portuguese and i work during the streams.... cognates save me....... save me cognates.........#the name of my tiktok collection for qsmp is 'context clues only' bc i was determined to follow its story through only osmosis.#i was wrong about that one but. welcome back context clues only.#idk anyway hopefully this post can be filtered by people in either fandom who don't care abt crossover lollll 😭#look q!bagi has every reason to distrust elected officials that try to invite her places #last time it happened it was a bona fide second location.#it's kinda wild she was willing to do it again lmao #do you think she got the request and idly wondered how long she was gonna be stuck this time #we kinda had to skim over that aspect of q!bagi's arrival bc of the weird meta parts of the presidential invitation #but iirc the qsmp president inviting her was canon. which is WILD lmfaooo #and also how she was fiancées with tina (a demon) and friends with bad (a demon) and coparents with mouse (a demon)#and then she gets invited and comes to valigma and she's probably already got insane déjà vu and then BOOM. matt.#like i'm not cc!bagi so i don't know but i didn't read q!bagi as someone who just. moved on.#i don't think she would process the events of quesadilla island i think it's more likely she suppressed it. really really well.

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araneitela · 10 months ago

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WHICH SYMBOLIC FRUIT ARE YOU?

Cherry. (Man, this is going to need some tag rambling; because while it's what I suspected and it's very fitting in many ways, I need to address one element).

In popular culture, cherries have come to represent sensuality, sex, and seduction. In the cult classic, Twin Peaks, Audrey Horne expresses her sexual expertise by tying a cherry stem with her tongue. "Cherry" is also used to refer to the concept of virginity: why? I don't know to be honest, but here we are. Much like the cherry, you're a sensual person who enjoys all the creature comforts the world offers. You enjoy delicious food, dynamic relationships, passionate lovemaking and stimulating conversation; however, you may also come across a touch vapid or shallow, due to your quickly fading attention when something has served its usefulness to you. To quote some man on tinder: "you're here for a good time, not a long time". You can come across, at times, slightly tart, carrying a bit of a bite to you that not everyone can handle. That’s okay: you’re an acquired taste!

Tagged: @basbousah (Thank you 🩷) Tagging: I don't tend to tag for quizzes easily but this one was actually fun, so let's harass. @immobiliter (how about Furina?) @kushtibokt @genus83 @genius81 @spiderwarden @delusionaid (Wriothesley, or Zhongli— porque no los dos? 🤭) @apocryphis (Topaz) @aventvrina @resolutepath (Elio) @daybreakrising (Blade) @astrxlfinale @kahakera @cygnor @chasersglow @scrtilegii (Jing Yuan)... and anyone else who'd like to do it, say I tagged you because I'd love to see the results!

#[ games. ] the game only works when we follow the rules; though i'll be none the wiser if they're broken. let morality be your guide.#[ this has been open in a tab since yesterday. ]#[ okay but i actually /love/ this result. BUT LET ME SPECIFY-- to those who haven't read my other post. ]#[ please read 'sex' and 'seduction' through a very old fashioned lens. very old fashioned. ]#[ and then i think it's a lot more fitting. think film noir/1940s femme fatale /instead/ of the modern femme fatale and you got it. ]#[ seductive in the way that a woman can be inherently alluring. ]#[ sex in the way that it /is/ something she engages in. but in the way that one does without overindulging at all. no promiscuity. ]#[ i'm not saying religious-type 'it means everything'. but i'll forever live by that line by blade. ]#[ “she must have sought something extraordinary. everything she does comes at a great cost.” ]#[ the thing is-- he knows she lacks fear. so i don't see 'at a great cost' being a value tied to anything because of personal risk. ]#[ or fear of chasing after it. it also means something that it comes from blade. who likely also has an interesting tie to 'fear'. ]#[ but any way that means 'at a great cost' means investment/engagement (time. effort. sacrifice?) ]#[ which shows a deep rooted dedication to something. which speaks to me of a certain passion that needs to propel something like that. ]#[ and if we take passion into the equation-- then i think that fits for how she speaks and handles everything blade and tb-related. ]#[ then i also can see 'sex' very fitting. she would; when engaging in it; be incredibly all-encompassing but not in a 'dominatrix' way. ]#[ nor a traditional 'dominant' way. but simply incredibly present. engaged. passionate. ]#[ those two things can fit incredibly next to sensuality if you simply look at it from a specific lens that isn't casual and/or modern. ]#[ outside of that... dynamic relationships? ☑️ stimulating conversation? ☑️ which PLAYS INTO THE NEXT PART. ]#[ which is /yes/ she is bored. she gets bored. you /need/ to be able to stimulate her by having something of your own to interest her. ]#[ she also wouldn't/doesn't like people who serve her every whim. no. have your own interests. ]#[ as to elaborate on an acquired taste: she isn't everyone's cup of tea. if you don't have something that interests her-- you won't... ]#[ enjoy being around her. if she doesn't /like/ you. you won't think she's fun. in /that/ she's an acquired taste. ]#[ and has a bit of a bite. ]

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slttygeto · 5 months ago

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༉‧₊˚. "Shut up, mom!" prank with JJK men.

➜ featuring: nanami kento, gojo satoru, geto suguru.

➜synopsis: your child(ren) has a death wish for sure.

➜note: wasn't able to pick a name for nanami's child. also sorry to the anon who sent this, i had a hard time understanding the request at first. anyway, part 2?

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

༉‧₊˚. NANAMI KENTO

“You need to start learning how to fold your clothes,” you mention casually to your daughter as you carry a basket of warm laundry to the couch.

“Why would I do that?” Nanami’s eyes look up from his book, but he doesn’t budge.

“When you move out, you will only have yourself to rely on,” you continue with the advice and your daughter rolls her eyes as she makes her way to the kitchen.

“Ugh moving out this, moving out that. Just say you want to get rid of me.”

“What–I would never, I’m just reminding you that one day you will become an adult and–”

“Oh just shut up, mom!”

You truly gave birth to a mini you, a prankster. When you first saw the tiktok trend, you and your daughter had giggled to yourselves at the thought of getting a reaction out of her father. Though, you did warn her of the repercussions. Your husband did not play when it came to showing respect to you.

“I beg your pardon?” Nanami sits up from the couch so fast, it almost makes you jump out of your skin. You don’t have time to react, or hold him back before he is storming towards the kitchen where your teenage daughter was hiding. “What did you just say to your mother?”

“I said shut up, because she was bothering me.”

“And you think that’s one way to speak to my wife?” You see his eyebrows furrow, he even slams the book he was reading down on the kitchen counter so hard that his arm veins are about to pop out.

“Kento,” you walk up behind him, calling out his name softly.

“No, let me take this.”

“No baby listen–”

“I said I will take this.” It’s only when he repeats himself in a stern manner, that your daughter starts to giggle nervously.

“Daddy, it was a prank.”

“Yeah, baby it’s a prank.” You rub his shoulders and biceps reassuringly. Your daughter quickly wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face in his chest.

“I’d never be disrespectful like that.”

“Yeah well, it almost gave me a heart attack,” his voice is now much softer and warmer as he exhales, running his fingers through his daughter’s hair. He pulls you towards him and kisses your forehead before patting his daughter’s head.

“Now, whose idea was it?”

“Mommy’s.”

“Hey!”

༉‧₊˚. GOJO SATORU

“Hey Ryuu, could you take out the trash please?”

“No, I’m busy.” Satoru’s ears perk up at the sound of his son’s tone. But he doesn’t budge from where he’s standing in the kitchen.

“Baby, it’s been sitting there all day and it’s full. Could you please–”

“Shut up, mom. I said I’m busy.”

Normally, Satoru wasn’t easy to rile up. His relationship with his son was hilarious, one where he doted on his child whilst the latter pretended as though he couldn’t stand all the love and affection he received from his dad. But despite all the love that Satoru had for his son, you were number one. You come first, you are his wife and the mother of his child. When his son will leave, you will be the one he gets to spend the rest of his time with–and when he decided to marry you, a child wasn’t even in the picture.

So he will be damned if he was just going to stand there and let his son talk to you like that.

You freeze when you feel a sudden surge of cursed energy–you knew your husband when he got angry, it clouded over the rational part of his brain. So when you see him start to walk upstairs where his son is, you have to physically grab his arm to stop him. Thank god the infinity was off.

“Satoru– toru! Baby!”

“Who the fuck does he think he is, huh?” His eyes are glowing. You really shouldn’t have played this prank on him.

“It’s a prank baby.”

“A prank?” It’s fascinating how this man can go from 0 to 100 back to 0 so quickly. He calms down so fast, glancing at the top of the stairs where he sees his son standing with his hands in his pockets.

“I told her it would be a bad idea.”

“I–hey! I didn’t think it was gonna be this bad,”

“I did,” Ryuu starts to walk down the stairs and past you two. “He’s said it before. He doesn’t play when it comes to people showing you respect, even if it’s his own son.”

Satoru can only sigh at his son’s words before staring at you. “Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t…But I won’t lie, seeing you riled up like that–”

“I’m too old to have a sibling!”

༉‧₊˚. GETO SUGURU

Your girls were a giggly mess. You shush them before saying very loudly.

“In what world is this acceptable?”

“Mom,” your daughter, Tsukimi, feigns an annoyed tone, refusing to look up from her phone. “I really don’t care.”

“But I do.” You stand over her bed, motioning for her twin sister to get into the role as well.

“Does it matter?” Asahi uses the same annoyed, bored tone. One that quickly catches Suguru’s attention. He walks into the main area from the garage before hearing the argument upstairs.

Quickly wiping his hands with the dirty rag attached to his pants, he starts to make his way up to your twin daughters’ room to see what it was about.

“Of course it does, I’m your mother.”

“You’re really just pushing it.”

“You sneaked out last night! Do you know how disappointed your father will be?” Suguru freezes up at the revelation. But he doesn’t let his disappointment or anger get the best of him, maybe the four of you can work this out–your girls were at a rebellious age, this was bound to happen and all he needs to do is figure out a way for all of you to get along without–

“Aren’t you supposed to be our best friend or something?” Tsukimi sits up on the bed, furrowing her eyebrows in a way that reminds you how similar her and her father’s features are.

“Right now I’m your mother.”

“Oh would you just shut up?”

A loud slam makes the three of you flinch, and you turn to find Suguru standing by the door looking as angry as a raging bull.

“Who said it.”

“Wha–”

“Who said it. Who was it?” He is so furious you could see steam coming out from the top of his head. “Have you lost your fucking minds to be talking to your mother like that? Did I fail at educating you or what?”

“Suguru–”

“No,” he puts a hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you out of the room. “I need to talk to them.”

“No wait, listen–”

“I don’t want to hear it.” When you see that he had a stern look on his face, you realize that you need to save your daughters from the prank.

“It was a prank. I promise you.”

“It really was a prank,” your twin daughters are sitting on the same bed, looking as sheepish and as guilty as ever.

“And it was my idea,” Tsukimi adds.

“And I didn’t stop her.” Your thumbs trace his cheeks, smiling apologetically at him. “Sorry,”

Suguru sighs, resting his hands on his hips as he shakes his head.

“Fucking prankters. That almost gave me a heart attack.”

“But admit it, we’re good actresses, right?” Asahi asks with a grin and Suguru chuckles before ruffling her hair.

“Yeah, you sure are.”

➜ ┊: COMMISSIONS | KOFI

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

#moon's works #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #gojo satoru #nanami kento #geto x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #jjk reactions #jjk men reactions #jjk men x reader #jjk men x you #suguru geto #satoru gojo #kento nanami #gojo fluff #geto fluff #nanami fluff

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prythianpages · 8 months ago

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Be Patient | Azriel x Reader

summary: After the mating bond snaps, Azriel follows you to the Day Court, where he spends seven days patiently longing after you.

warnings: fluff, mild angst bc of Az pining and lowkey being a menace in day court and reader being a little dense, also this is really long, 11K, my longest one shot ever...

note: This is a part two to Be Safe but can be read as a stand alone too. Huge shoutout to @stormhearty , @daycourtofficial & @thecrowesnest13 & the sweet overexcited anon who helped me with this! This is set pre-ACOTAR events and I realized my mistake in naming Helion as High Lord because I think he became High Lord UTM? so for this fic's sake, let's just assume he was already High Lord..

Mate.

The realization crashes over Azriel like a tidal wave. It’s almost suffocating. Mine, the bond in his chest roars. Protect. The emotions swell, fueled by his shadows whispering and urging him on to go and keep you safe. Because who better to do so than him?

Before he knows it, he’s following you into Day Court, his shadows swallowing his form until Mor’s and Cassian’s laughter are distant echoes.

Piercing violet eyes greet him as soon as he steps out from his shadows, blocking his view. It’s almost as if he had been expecting Azriel. Talons rake across the shields of his mind and Azriel reluctantly lets him in. Go back, Rhysand asserts, holding the shadowsinger’s gaze.

I can’t, he nearly growls in his mind.

The thought of leaving you, not being by your side is insufferable. It’s this very thought that has some of his shadows dancing toward you, the shadow curled around his ear whispering to him about your whereabouts. You stand, a couple of feet away, speaking with Helion. You’re completely oblivious to the two Illyrian males glaring at one another.

What do you mean you can’t? Rhysand doesn’t even attempt to hide the irritation in his tone.

Azriel then shows Rhysand what happened just moments ago. The mating bond snapping into place right as you were winnowing away. He leaves out the part where Cassian and Mor had been teasing him but he suspects Rhysand was aware of that.

Rhysand lets out a sigh, running a hand down the length of his face. What appears to be exhaustion tears through his features before he leans in toward the taller male. “Really?” He whispers in an exasperated hush. “Right now?

Azriel falters with a huff, his head following the direction his shadows had gone. It’s only when his gaze lands on you that it softens. “You say it like I had a choice.”

But boy is he glad it is you.

”Fine,” Rhysand sighs after a long moment of silence. He knows he can’t do anything about it, the determination in the Shadowsinger’s eyes burning bright. He’d fear going against the Cauldron if he did. “You can stay. But—“ he lifts a jewel adorned finger in warning“—you distract her—“

Azriel’s head turns back to Rhysand and there’s a frown on his face. ”I don’t distract her.”

”Please,” Rhysand chuckles in disbelief. “Listen, I’m happy for you. Truly. But we didn’t come all this way for nothing and I need her to be able to focus. She can’t even think properly around you and if she finds out you’re her–”

“She thinks about me?”

Rhysand shuts his mouth with a withering stare.

Azriel’s shadows are then whispering madly, coercing him to turn his attention back to you. You’re giggling and smiling at Helion, cheeks flushed with a blush. Azriel flushes too but for an entirely different reason. Helion has your hand in his, amber eyes holding you captive, as he’s slowly lifting it up to his lips.

Shadows are coiling softly around your wrist and before Helion can kiss your hand, your hand is being pulled away from his. Helion’s brows furrow, hand falling to his side as one lone shadow floats in front of him. He is not fluent in shadows but the way it writhes at him gives one clear message.

”Oh, hi!”

Azriel watches, taking note of the small fond smile that forms on your face as you recognize the dark tendrils wrapped around your arm. Your eyes find him almost immediately and then you’re walking toward him.

“Azriel, what are you doing here?”

“Shadowsinger,” Helion purrs in greeting, a pleased smirk on his face that grows at Azriel’s indifferent nod. “I was not aware you were coming too.”

Rhysand places a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, his fingers digging into the soft, black leather. Don’t say anything. Rhysand warns in his mind. We’ll talk somewhere else.

Rhysand forces a charming smile onto his face and Helion’s eyes flicker with interest. “I apologize for the short notice but Azriel is here to… escort y/n.”

“Escort?”

Both you and Helion say in unison. Though Helion’s tone carries mirth, yours carries shock. Confusion clouds your features, worry flickering in your wide eyes. Rhysand must’ve eased your mind, for Azriel feels the tension leave your muscles shortly afterwards. Still, you inch closer to him, as if seeking the comfort of his presence. He instinctively mirrors your movement, the blue siphons on his leathers brushing against your arm and gleaming in response.

“You offend me, Rhys. I’ve welcomed you to my court with no ill intention.” Helion chides, though his voice is light with humor.

“y/n here is just very precious to us,” Rhysand says, choosing his words carefully. “I hope you can understand.”

Azriel’s shadows whisper the details of the scene around him, noting the apologetic look Rhysand sends to Helion. The High Lord of Day chuckles, but Azriel’s focus remains steadfastly on you. You turn to him with a questioning smile and he returns your smile, the warmth in his hazel eyes answering your unspoken question.

“I can see why,” comes Helion’s response, gaze lingering on you with an appreciative gleam.

Azriel’s head whips fast toward the High Lord of the Day Court and another sigh escapes Rhysand.

“Seven days. That’s all I ask.”

“That’s seven days too long, Rhys.”

Rhysand falters back, appalled by those words. He lets out a small laugh. “Too long? Seven days is too long but a whole century wasn’t?”

“It hasn’t been a century,” Azriel hisses and Rhysand raises his brows. “It’s been eighty nine years. Besides, it’s different now.”

You’re his mate now.

The mating bond had snapped into place with such force that he was still reeling from its impact. It was as if every emotion of his was amplified, sending a startling quiver through those golden threads in his chest. Jealousy jerked the most. It’s why every few seconds, his gaze flickered towards the hall you had disappeared into with the High Lord known for his scandalous appetites. One of his shadows had stayed with you and though he knew it would come back if Helion tried anything, it did nothing to ease him. He should be beside you right now. Not beside Rhysand, who seemed keen on keeping you from him.

“You saw the way she looked at you when you arrived.”

Azriel turned back to Rhysand, that image of you reappearing in his mind from Rhysand’s perspective. Surprise had flickered across your features, but like a passing storm cloud, it swiftly gave way to brightness. Your eyes sparkled, your lips curved into a fond smile. Without hesitation, you left Helion's side, drawn instinctively toward Azriel. It was as if nothing else mattered but him, as if there was no one else in the world but you two.

The bond in his chest sings in delight because overriding all other emotions swirling madly around, there is love.

Azriel had loved you long before the bond’s sudden manifestation. His feelings had grown silently over the years, nurtured through shared moments and unspoken gestures. He knew he had to confess his feelings to you–something that had been eating at him for years. Eighty nine years to be exact, as he pointed out just a moment ago.

But fear always held him back.

Fear that he had mistaken your kindness for something more. Fear that he would ruin the decades of friendship you two had built. Fear that you loved him but not enough to see past his scars.

He realizes now how ridiculous those fears sound.

The kindness you harbored for him was not the same kindness you showed others. Your friendship was strong and precious, something he would fiercely protect no matter what. Your hand always sought his, never showing disgust towards the marred roughness of his own. You had even dedicated so much of your time to researching Prythian’s herbs and treatment for burns, working with Madja to make a special concoction–a soothing balm to alleviate the inevitable pains.

By the Mother, he was a fool and it took the bond snapping into place to realize it.

“Yes. You both are.”

Now, the golden threads in his chest urged him to confess, to bridge that small lingering distance between you–

“But you can’t. Not now.”

“Get out of my head,” Azriel snaps, glaring at his brother.

“Well, I can’t help it if you’re thinking so loudly,” Rhysand replies, a touch defensively. “Look, y/n has been looking forward to this trip so much. If you tell her about the bond, it will consume her every thought and cloud that brilliant mind of hers. I know this is selfish of me but I need her to be focused and you to be patient.”

Azriel’s glare wavers. He knows how much this trip means to you. It was the first time Rhysand was entrusting a task upon you outside of the Night Court’s borders. Getting to see the magnificent library of the Day Court was also all your bibliophile heart could talk about. His desire to protect you and respect your focus battled fiercely with his yearning to tell you about the bond.

“Seven days?”

“Seven days,” Rhysand confirms, the tension easing from his face. “Then, she’s all yours. Just be patient.”

Azriel scoffs. “I’ll be so patient.”

But as they both join you and Helion for dinner, something tells Rhysand that this is going to be a long week.

Helion had hosted an extravagant feast for you all last night, even bringing out his finest, aged whiskey to celebrate. He had toasted it to Azriel, the surprise guest, with a cheeky wink. When his flirtatious efforts went ignored, Helion had turned his affections toward you. A notion that left Azriel seething and Rhysand on guard.

After dinner, Helion had given you a brief tour of the palace and introduced you to the fae you encountered along the way. To Azriel’s relief, the room he’d be staying in was right across from yours. His shadows had eagerly scouted the halls and both your rooms, becoming attuned to every creak and sound as an extra measure of safety. They fell asleep before he did and were the ones to wake him up when they heard you shuffling around your room.

As Azriel laces his leathers, the dark tendrils rush toward his door, peeking out underneath. It seems they are just as eager as he is to see you.

“Good morning!” You chirp happily, practically buzzing with excitement as you greet him at his door. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.” A lie. Your joy is so contagious it’s easy to mask his exhaustion, his smile matching yours. “Did you?”

He had, in fact, not slept well.

How could he when his anxiety began to gnaw at him? Because what if you grew tired of waiting for him within these seven days and gave into Helion’s charm? Each time he closed his eyes, his mind flashed with images of you reciprocating Helion’s advances, and sneaking off into his chambers in the middle of the night...

You give a noncommittal hum in response, pulling him out of his inner turmoil and bring him back to you.

“I’m really glad you’re here, Az.”

Azriel’s shadows mirror your enthusiasm. A faint blush takes over his cheeks as you grasp his hand to tug him along with you. “Rhys has private business to attend to with Helion and I did not want to do this alone,” you say, waving your bucket list in the air with your free hand.

Of course, you had a list of things you’d like to do in Day. It instilled another fear into Azriel because what if you fell in love with Day and refused to go back to Night? He eyes all the bullet points on that list of yours and refuses to let himself make that fear come true.

Anything you loved here, he would make sure to remind you that the Night Court could do better.

“And who better to spend the day with than my loyal shadowsinger, right?” You remark with a playful glint in your eye.

“Right,” Azriel replies and there’s a brightness in his heart at your words. My loyal shadowsinger. His shadows dance in agreement.

But there is one thing the Night Court can’t replicate, a truth he reluctantly acknowledges as you both step outside into the warmth of the sun.

A radiant smile breaks out on your face as you bask in the bright sunlight. Its golden glow kisses your skin, highlighting every feature he adores.

His leathers are not meant for this type of weather. He can feel himself growing hot, his shadows already endlessly working to keep him cool. Though you were dressed in something lighter than him, a pale blue dress, some of them flit toward you to do the same.

Azriel allows you to pull him along, savoring the feel of your hand in his. The cobblestone streets of the Day Court’s market are narrow, flanked by vibrant stalls and lively vendors. He tucks his wings tightly against his back to avoid brushing against the bustling crowd. His grip on your hand is firm. He tells himself it’s to ensure he doesn’t lose you amidst the sea of fae, but deep down, he has no intention of ever letting go.

Your first stop is a quaint little shop that, according to your research, sells the best espresso in Prythian. Azriel prefers his coffee black but you convince him to try Day’s specialty, a honey lavender latte.

You watch him, awaiting his response.

“I hate it,” he tells you, though it’s surprisingly good. Really good. “Velaris has better coffee.”

You take your drink back with a shrug as you head to your next stop. The flower market. As you stroll through the market stalls, you point out a cluster of flowers, your voice tinged with excitement as you describe their origins and meanings. You’re like a living encyclopedia and Azriel has always admired this about you. He asks you more questions, even if he already has the answers. Just so that he can see the light in your eyes dance with every word you speak.

A beautiful pink blossom catches his eyes as he’s read about it before, already familiar with its meaning. An idea sparks into his mind. Maybe, if he starts dropping hints, it’d make his impending confession go smoother. He tugs on your hand gently. “And this one?”

“It’s a pink camelia. A symbol of love, adoration and longing.”

He tosses a coin to the merchant and then picks the prettiest pink camelia among the bunch. He tucks it behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. The shadows that cling to him, hiding from the sun, peek out from above his shoulders, stirring in anticipation as you look up at Azriel and smile.

“y/n, I–”

His words hang in the air, the tendrils too distracted by you to notice the merchant approaching. Suddenly, a hand appears between you both, golden bracelets dangling before your eyes. “A pretty bracelet for the pretty lady?” the fae male asks. “They’re one of a kind!”

Your eyes widen as you take in the shimmering jewelry. “How much?”

“Ten coins,” the merchant replies, but as his eyes roam over you, he adds, “But for you, five.”

“Okay,” you agree, not having the heart to say no.

You reach for one of the gold bracelets, its chain holding a gleaming sun made of amber in the center. Before you can even open your coin purse, Azriel shoves ten coins into the merchant’s awaiting hand, his glare sending the man skittering away.

“Thank you,” you say to Azriel, struggling to clasp the bracelet around your wrist. Azriel gestures for you to let him help, and you do, watching the subtle furrow of his brow as he fastens the hook. “But why did you give him ten coins? He said five…”

“I didn’t,” Azriel lies smoothly for the second time this morning, and when your eyes narrow in suspicion, he simply smiles and tilts his head toward the right. “Shouldn’t we be heading to the art gallery if we want to make it to the water fountain show in time?”

That gets you going.

Your hold on his hand tightens as you lead the way to the art gallery. There, you’re captivated by the various amounts of artwork from Day, one of them being a very detailed and very naked sculpture of Helion. Azriel can’t help but remind you of the beauty of the Rainbow of Velaris, tugging you along, using the water fountain show as an excuse to get you to leave quicker.

Afterwards, you visit a bookstore and many other stores, discovering that the bracelet on your wrist was not one-of-a-kind. They are available in various stores, each offering different variations. Instead of feeling disappointed, you find one specially for Azriel. Its chain is silver, adorned with a glimmering moon made from moonstone, a perfect complement to your amber sun.

By the time you both return to the palace, the sky is painted with hues of twilight, signaling it’s almost dinner time.

“Thank you for helping me carry all my stuff,” you say with a sheepish grin, glancing at the bags scattered on your floor, most of them filled with gifts for the rest of the inner circle members since they couldn’t come along.

“Of course,” Azriel replies with a soft smile, his eyes warm. He had refused to let you lift a finger.

Standing on your tip-toes, you aim to kiss his cheek but underestimate the height difference, your lips landing on his jaw instead. The touch has the same effect. Azriel blushes, his wings twitching slightly, and his shadows snicker behind him. He hopes you can't hear them.

“Are you sure–” he clears his throat “–are you sure you don’t need help packing them up too?”

Your eyes light up and then you’re pulling him into your room. Unfortunately, no more kisses came from that. However, the shared smiles and easy conversation made it all worth it.

Be patient, he reminds himself. But he can't help but think of the golden threads unraveling in his chest, giving them an experimental tug. There’s no response, yet he hopes that yours will entwine with his any day now, binding you together forever.

As the golden, morning light of the Day Court bathes the grand hall, Azriel waits for you to enter the place where you'd have breakfast together. When he hears your approaching footsteps, he turns.

Suddenly, he finds himself unable to think. Unable to breathe, even.

You were beautiful. He was well aware of this, always has been. But today, you were absolutely stunning, like a goddess descended from the heavens.

The dress you wore was different from your usual Night court dresses and though it screamed Day court fashion, Azriel couldn’t bring himself to care. The delicate ivory, flowing fabric draped elegantly over your body. His eyes trace every detail of the dress, from the plunging neckline to the high slits that reveal the soft and inviting skin of your legs. There’s a tightness in his throat when he catches a glimpse of the gold garter adorning your thigh.

“Good morning,” you greet him with a smile, a hint of shyness in your eyes despite the boldness of the dress.

"Morning," he barely manages to say.

“Good morning indeed,” Helion purrs as he appears behind you, Rhysand at his side.

Azriel, captivated by your beauty, barely registered the expression on Helion's face. Meanwhile, his shadows moved with a protective instinct, delicately brushing against your legs as if to shield you from Helion's lingering gaze.

As you approach him, Azriel's heart continues to hammer against his chest. He musters up a smile. Though small, it’s full of admiration and awe.

Helion chuckles. “My oh my, Rhysand. I did not know your Shadowsinger was capable of smiling.”

Rhysand lets out an amused exhale. His tone is light but it carries a subtle warning. “He’s capable of many things, including patience.”

A muscle feathers in Azriel’s jaw as he falls into step with you. He doesn’t notice the small frown that takes over your features. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says, voice sweet despite the slightly sour expression on his face.

You shake your head in protest. “You look all hot and bothered.”

Azriel chokes on his spit. “Excuse me?”

“You’re already sweating,” you explain to him, reaching up with your free hand to brush his dark curls away from his forehead. His wings flutter in response to the surprise touch. “And it’s barely morning. Come on, you’re not wearing those leathers today. I’m sure Helion left some clothes for you too.”

Azriel heats up at the mention of Helion’s name, his mind briefly flickering to the thought of the High Lord leaving such a dress for you. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it further as you tug him back toward the room he’s staying in, mumbling about how Azriel has a death wish for wearing such thick clothing in the Day Court.

But it’s the High Lord of the Day Court who has a death wish, Azriel thinks.

“We won’t be long!” You call over your shoulder to Rhysand and Helion, who both give a dismissive wave.

Helion shakes his head in amusement. “Are they always like this?”

Rhysand lets out a snort. “Unfortunately.”

“Come. Let us have a drink. I believe we’re in very much need of one.”

“This early in the morning?”

“My friend, have you not had orange juice and champagne? Such a lovely, delightful combination. I call it a mimosa…”

Back in Azriel's room, you rummage through the clothes Helion had left for him. His eyes soften as you continue to fuss over him. Though he complains about it, he secretly loves when you fuss over him. He has to peel his gaze away from you when you bend down to pick up a top, his thoughts threatening to drift elsewhere if he doesn't.

Hot. Bothered. His shadows repeat your words from earlier to him and he eyes them with a glare.

Despite Helion’s wish for Azriel to wear a toga like he proudly does, Azriel is relieved at what you picked out for him. He’s also touched that you know him well enough to pick something close to his taste. “Here,” you say, holding up a pair of loose fitting dark trousers and a sheen, flowy white top with a deep v neck similar to the one of your dress. “This will be perfect for today.”

“Fine,” Azriel murmurs, reluctantly taking the garments from you. Your fingers brush against his, sending a spark through him.

“I trust you can dress yourself from here,” you tease, giving him a playful pat on his shoulder.

Azriel lets out a scoff, resisting the urge to reply with a roguish remark. He quickly changes into the clothes you picked out for him, not wanting to cut into your breakfast time any more than necessary. Today is a busy day for you, as you will spend most of it in the library, researching all about the death gods for an assignment Rhysand gave you.

When he steps out of the room, your eyes light up as they look over his body. His muscles flex instinctively when your gaze lingers on the tattoos swirling on his chest. You blink, and with a smile say, “Radiant.”

Azriel feels the blood rush to his neck. He’s received many compliments before but never something as bright as “radiant.” He suddenly yearns to hear more–only if they come from your pretty lips.

“Y/n, have I ever told you how much I—” Your eyebrows raise in curiosity, and he loses his resolve, Rhysand’s warning echoing in his head. “—appreciate you…”

Those were not the words Azriel had intended, and he lets out a defeated breath. Yet, your smile does not falter. Instead, you hook your arm through his, beaming up at him as you guide him through the halls.

“I believe you have but please, enlighten me again…”

Helion’s gaze fixes on you and Azriel as you finally joined them for breakfast. Dressed in resplendent Day Court fashion, the two of you look ravishing, and Helion cannot decide who is more captivating–you or the stoic shadowsinger at your side.

His affections have always met a brick wall with the Illyrian male. So naturally, when another pretty face shows up at his court, he focuses all his attention on you. He savors your sweet reactions and Azriel’s jealous ones, sensing more between you two. He’s determined to unravel it.

After breakfast, Helion sidles up beside you, flashing a charming smile. “Allow me to admire you more closely, Lady Y/n,” he says, his voice smooth and rich as he extends his hand.

Azriel’s jaw clenches, his shadows swirling restlessly when you take Helion’s hand. Helion’s smile widens, and then he gestures for you to spin. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.”

You gasp, eyes widening in delight and cheeks tinting with a delicate blush. “You know Shakespeare?”

“Know it? I live it.” Helion responds. “I have his original copies in my personal library. You can come take a look, if you’d like. Just give me a day to…organize things.”

Azriel’s eyes narrow, not liking the intonation in the High Lord’s voice. Helion can feel that primal instinct–the possessiveness Azriel feels for you–simmering beneath the surface. His eyes widen slightly in acknowledgement and then he’s turning to Rhysand.

"Helion,” Rhysand drawls, confirming his suspicions. “As y/n’s escort, you're making Azriel's shadows rather restless.”

Helion laughs, a rich, melodious sound that fills the room. "I can't help it if your historian is so captivating, Rhysand," he says, winking at you and delighting in the response it shakes from Azriel.

Azriel falls into step behind you as Helion guides you all toward the magnificent library of the Day Court. Sunlight streams through towering windows, casting rainbows across the marble floors. You had praised it as the biggest and most beautiful library in all of Prythian. As Azriel stands in front of the entrance, he reluctantly acknowledges that none of the libraries in the Night Court could come close if this is just how the entrance looks.

As Azriel moves to step inside with you, Rhysand stops him.

"What are you doing?" Azriel huffs, peering over Rhysand's shoulder to catch a glimpse of the awed expression on your face as Helion talks to you. "I'm Y/n's escort, remember?"

“There’s no need for one in the library. You’ll only be a distraction here.” Rhysand replies and sensing his apprehension, he adds. “She’ll be safe here. I promise.”

“But–”

“No,” Rhysand interrupts and Azriel’s gaze hardens. A playful glint dances in Rhysand’s violet eyes. “Go take a walk, a cold shower or perhaps, read up on some poetry.”

With that, Rhysand enters the library, motioning for the guards to shut the door. As the door closes, a single dark tendril manages to slide through.

I don’t resort to poetry, Azriel thinks bitterly and he swears he hears Rhysand’s chuckle in his mind.

That night, during dinner, Helion took all your attention as the two of you quoted and mused over poetry, Rhysand chiming in occasionally. Azriel remained silent, a muscle ticking at his jaw.

The following morning, Azriel didn’t get a chance to speak to you much either. You and Rhysand were deep in discussion, strategizing how to tackle the vast array of books about the old gods. Azriel hadn’t even finished his coffee when you abruptly stood from your seat, mouth still full of food, and hurried off towards the library. The golden threads buried deep in his chest stirred with your passion.

So while you spent your day in the library, engrossed in your research, Azriel decided to spend his day doing his own research. He had his shadows sneak into your room and retrieve one of the poetry books he is certain you bought with you. You read one every night before bed.

Azriel reads some of the poems, engraving the words into his memory, just in case. He ends up falling asleep in his room, the lack of sleep finally catching up to him. His shadows stir him awake, hours later, pointing to the clock hanging across from him. It’s almost dinner time so Azriel freshens up and then makes his way toward the library.

“Hey, you,” you greet Azriel happily, two of his shadows trailing behind you, as you step out of the library. The second one had joined you this morning as the first one had been feeling lonely. “I think they like me better than you.”

“Keep them,” Azriel shrugs. When you're not looking, he gives them a knowing nod, though his voice feigns annoyance. “Traitors.”

“What did you do today?” You ask, falling into step beside him as you two walk toward the dining hall. “Anything interesting?”

“I learned something.”

“Yeah?”

Azriel turns to you, his expression serious as he clears his throat. "She walks in beauty, like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that’s best of dark and bright... uh, meet in her something…eyes…?"

You blink at him, confusion furrowing your brow. "Something eyes?"

Before Azriel can explain, Helion chimes in, that cheeky grin plastered on his face. "It's 'Meet in her aspect and her eyes,’" he corrects smoothly, his eyes twinkling with amusement, as he beckons for you to take your seats.

Azriel shoots a glare at Helion and Rhysand kicks him under the table in warning. Helion chuckles, unfazed by the death stare coming from Azriel as he continues.

“She walks in beauty, like the night. Of Cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light, which heaven to gaudy day denies.”

“Oh, Lord Byron!” you say in recognition, turning to Azriel with a look that soothes his embarrassment. “She Walks in Beauty. What a lovely poem. Did you know it was one of my favorites?”

“I didn’t,” Azriel replies casually, though inwardly his heart races and his shadows race to cover the blush delicately tinting his neck. Of course he knew it was your favorite. You had scribbled hearts all over the page in your book. “I just liked it and thought I’d share it with you.”

Your smile widens, touched by his gesture. “I thought you didn’t fancy poetry, Az.”

“I thought the same,” Rhysand says, eyes narrowing at Azriel.

"I'm full of surprises," Azriel says dryly, meeting Rhysand's gaze evenly.

“Well, let’s hope it’s the last of your surprises.”

“I believe I also have some of Lord Byron’s works. How about I finally show you my personal library after dinner?” Helion speaks, directing all attention back to him.

Azriel opens his mouth to protest, not liking the inviting gaze in the High Lord’s eyes, but Helion interjects smoothly. “No worries, escort, ” Helion says, his grin widening. “I’ll take good care of y/n.”

Azriel sulks, a bitter taste in his mouth from Helion’s effortless charm throughout dinner. He tries his best to keep you from leaving, insisting you try every single dessert laid out on the table. Barely halfway through, you slump back in your chair, claiming you can’t eat another bite without bursting.

His ears perk up and he sends a small prayer to the Mother that your full stomach dissuades you from visiting Helion’s personal library, his own stomach not being able to handle the thought. Tonight, it seems The Mother does not favor him. When Helion offers you his arm, you take it excitedly, oblivious to the sulking Shadowsinger you left behind.

Rhysand laughs, finding amusement in the entire situation, while Azriel shoots him a cold stare. If Rhysand hadn’t ordered Azriel to keep the truth of the bond from you until after your trip here, you wouldn't be alone with Helion now.

Yet, Azriel can't help but bitterly reflect that if he had only been upfront about his feelings from the start, he wouldn’t be tormented by such longing now, the bond in his chest roaring at the thought of you with another male.

“I think y/n is more than capable of handling a flirtatious High Lord.”

Azriel’s lips twitch into a brief, reluctant smile. “She is. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Cheer up, Az,” Rhysand teases, lifting his glass in a mock-toast to his friend. “There’s always more poetry to practice. Or perhaps, you should stick to brooding. You’re much better at that.”

“Pass the whiskey,” Azriel replies tersely, his lips pressing into a tight line.

“Patience is a virtue, Az.”

“So is silence.”

You’re swooning, over the moon, after exploring Helion’s personal library. He showed you his special editions of Lord Byron’s and Shakespeare’s works, allowing you to take one back to your room with you to read. You clutch the book to your chest, humming softly to yourself.

When you reach the hallway, you linger there for a moment, sparing a glance toward Azriel’s room. The night is still young and you’re surprised to see no light seeping through the door. Has he gone to bed already? Worry knits your brows as you wonder if he’s okay. He has been acting strange since he arrived. He had quoted poetry at you for Cauldron’s sake!

You walk toward his door and knock. There’s no answer so you knock again. “Az?”

You frown when you’re met with silence and your hands itch to open the door but you hesitate. He could either be asleep, out flying or out training. He had been eyeing the training grounds of Day during Helion’s tour.

With a sigh, you step into your room and decide to get ready for bed, making a mental note to check up on him in the morning. The day had been long and filled with unexpected twists and tomorrow would only bring another long day. Your eyes were tired from reading so much fine print.

As you're fluffing your pillows, you hear the sound of heavy, booted footsteps. Your mind wanders to Azriel but it can’t be. His steps were always quiet, silenced by his shadows. There’s a pause in the steps and a brief moment of stillness.

Abruptly, your door swings open and you let out a small gasp.

You watch as Azriel stumbles in, your heart flying to your chest in relief. His usually graceful steps falter as if the weight of his massive wings is too much to bear. Shadows cling to his wrists, doing their best to keep their master steady.

A look of pleasant surprise softens his features when he spots you, his hazel eyes widening at the sight of you in your nightgown. He brings a hand up to his neck, rubbing it in an attempt to make the flush spreading across his cheeks go away.

“Y/n,” he hiccups with a pleased grin. “You’re here.”

“Of course I am,” you reply, stifling a laugh at his adorable state. “This is my room.”

Azriel’s expression morphs, his eyebrows furrowing and a slight pout forming on his lips. “Didn’t get to spend the day with you,” he mutters, his voice tinged with frustration as he sways slightly. “Or night… you spent it with Helion instead.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Are you jealous, Az?”

Another hiccup. “Maybe.”

Your stomach flutters at the way he admits it so openly. The two of you have always had a playful, flirty dynamic. It had never gone beyond exchanged glances and lingering touches, though. Azriel never let it, and a part of you feared it was because he was too kind to reject you outright. Now, you begin to wonder if you had misinterpreted the situation all along.

“Well, it’s still night,” you tell him, “And you’re here with me now.”

“I am,” Azriel acknowledges with a hint of surprise, as if realizing it anew. “And I know poetry too…”

He straightens up, attempting to appear serious again despite the slight slur in his words. "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height... uh, something about sight, I think?”

Did he somehow know this was another of your favorites? It seems unlikely. In all the years you've known him, Azriel has never shown interest in poetry. Or at least up until two hours ago. You should check his forehead. What if he was coming down with something?

Instead, you clear your throat and help him out.

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height. My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight. For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee–” your voice wavers at the look Azriel gives you, his hazel eyes shining with an emotion that threatens to weaken your knees. “–to the level of every day’s. Most quiet need, by sun and candle light…”

“I love thee too,” Azriel breathes, holding your gaze and stepping closer to you. “Freely–purely…no, freely as men strive for fight.”

“Right,” you correct with a laugh. “Freely as men strive for right.”

Azriel’s pout deepens, yet there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “Don’t laugh at me,” he mumbles.

He continues to make his way toward you and you hold out your arms, worried he’ll lose his battle with balance. He ends up slumping face-first onto your bed, his wings splaying out behind him. “Can I stay here? Just for a little bit. I missed you all day.”

“Yeah,” you reply with a soft smile. You missed him too. “But can you make room for me on my bed?”

“Mmm,” Azriel hums, turning on his side. He pats at the space right in front of him, his shadows moving to rest behind him to give you space. “Come here, my pretty historian.”

You feel a rush of warmth course through you, momentarily flustered by the nickname. Looking at Azriel, you hesitate. It wouldn’t be the first time you two shared a bed but it’d be the first time you’d share one in a bed not meant to accommodate for Illyrian wings.

Maybe, it’s best if you help him to his room. Your eyes look toward his shadows and you notice them slowly curling around his back as if going to sleep themselves. They would be no help and neither would Rhys as you were sure he was sharing his night with a pretty fae or two. And you would definitely not be able to carry Azriel back to his room on your own.

So when Azriel pats the bed again, you join him. He frowns when you don’t nestle against him as he wished. Instead, you slip under the covers, resting on your side to face him fully. He adjusts to mirror your position, close enough that you feel his warm breath, noses and hands brushing against each other.

“You smell good,” he says, eyes half-lidded. “Marry me?”

You smile, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his face. “Is that all it takes to marry you? To smell good?”

Azriel’s eyes flutter close, a contented sigh escaping him. “I’d marry you, even if you didn’t smell good,” he says, his words mumbled but filled with affection.

Your heart swells and you lean in to place a gentle kiss on his forehead, feeling exhaustion come over you when Azriel yawns.

“Goodnight, Az.”

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he murmurs, already drifting off to sleep, a peaceful smile on his face. “My sweet, pretty ma–”

A shadow, one of the ones that have taken a liking to you, crawls over you and rushes to Azriel, curling around his mouth to silence him. You are too tired to think about it, simply letting sleep claim you in each other’s comforting presence.

Azriel wakes up with a soft groan, still enveloped by your scent. His shadows stir as he does and he hesitates opening his eyes, not ready to face the aftermath of his drunken state. The impending headache is already breaking the surface. When he opens his eyes, he finds you missing. His worry is eased when one of his shadows brings a small piece of paper to him.

He shifts, moving into a sitting position. One hand rubs at his head while the other takes the note you left for him.

To my star breaking poet, you looked too peaceful to wake. I left some water, tea and bread on the nightstand. Enjoy.

-your pretty historian

His lips tug up into a smile. He turns his head, finding the drinks and food you left for him. He doesn’t dare touch them though, despite the bond in his chest yearning for him to. He then searches for the clock in your room and his eyes widen. It’s past noon. Azriel has never slept this late or felt so rested, especially after a night of heavy drinking.

Taking a deep breath, he allows himself to fall back onto the bed, running his hands through his hair and pulling on it. He lingers there a moment longer before finally rising and heading to his room to bathe and get ready for the day. Knowing you'll be in the library all day, he wonders what to do with himself, having given up on poetry after his unsuccessful attempts.

Azriel makes himself busy by wandering the palace, feeling a bit uneasy walking so freely in the open. He’s so accustomed to blending into the shadows that this exposure feels unnatural. His shadows cling to him, hiding beneath his cloak, equally uncomfortable with the brightness. The day is cooler, so he’s donned his leathers, a small part of him hoping you'll fuss over him again when you see him.

He visits the markets, but they seem less vibrant without you by his side. He then goes to the training grounds of Day, catching up with his missed training and releasing his pent up frustrations with a training dummy. Upon returning to the palace and washing up, he heads towards the library. Though he can’t enter, he knows there are small tables and padded chairs just outside. He found you there during one of your breaks yesterday, so he sits at one of the tables, hoping you'll come again.

A newspaper rests on the table before him, so he picks it up to pass the time. After reading through it twice, he moves to a different table with a chess set, his shadows engaging him in a game. After losing to them three times, he leans back with a sigh. He really should’ve brought some of his unfinished reports to work on.

Overcome with the bond, he had followed you without hesitation, not anticipating that Rhysand would keep him from telling you about it. He didn't have a plan, so while he wasn't happy about it, at least it gave him time to come up with one. The minute you’d go back to Night, Azriel was set on visiting your favorite restaurant and making reservations. He’d surprise you with a day full of your favorites, ending it with his confession, where he hoped you would accept him.

It was one thing to love him back. Another to accept him as your mate.

Before he knows it, the sun begins to set, his shadows buzzing with life as darkness takes over. You still haven’t stepped out of the library. He wonders if you've eaten or had enough water. One of his shadows slips out from underneath the library doors and flutters back to him. It reports that the other shadow, still with you, helped you reach for books and turn pages. It had even wanted to brush your hair back when it fell loose from your tie but was met with an invisible force. High Lord, the shadow hissed and he realizes Rhysand knew him better than he thought. That unwanted chaperone…

When he learns you've skipped lunch, his worry deepens. He paces back and forth in front of the grand doors, his heart aching with the intensity of the bond. Every instinct within him urges him to protect and care for you. Unable to hold back any longer, he takes advantage of the darkening sky and slips into the library.

The shadow that had reported to him leads the way, darting ahead. His other shadows eagerly rush forward, reaching you before he does. They greet the lone shadow that had stayed by your side like long-lost friends reuniting.

Azriel’s heart calms when he finds you asleep, slumped over a desk and surrounded by a mountain of books. You're curled into yourself, goosebumps forming on the exposed skin of your arms. He gently removes his cloak from his leathers and drapes it over you.

You instinctively snuggle deeper into the cloak, half asleep. “Smells s’good,” you murmur, and the bond in his chest tightens.

He gently removes your glasses, the ones you wear when doing prolonged near work, and places them carefully into one of his pockets. There’s a faint glimmer surrounding you and he’s relieved that whatever barrier Rhyand had placed upon you was weakening by the second. Almost like clockwork. He easily breaks through the magic shield, blue siphons gleaming. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his shadows sighing in response.

His touch lingers on your face, thumb ghosting over your cheek. “It’s time for dinner.”

You let out a groan in protest, not wanting to move from your spot.

“You need to eat, Y/n,” he whispers softly. “And then, you can go to bed.”

You blink sleepily at him. “Will you carry me?”

“Of course.”

As he lifts you into his arms, your warmth and the scent of your hair envelop him. The bond in his chest thrums with joy, his shadows harmonizing in response.

Three more days, he reminds himself. Three more days until he can finally speak of the feelings swelling in his heart. Be patient…

After another day of researching death gods, your mind feels heavy with overwhelming knowledge. Exhausted, you keep to yourself during dinner. You can feel Azriel’s worry, can feel the way the shadows that linger in your presence caress the back of your neck in an attempt to ease you. Rhysand slips into your mind and after assuring him you were just tired and had a headache, he lets you excuse yourself. Helion, ever the caring and doting High Lord, sends you off to bed with a tea to soothe your headache.

You’re quick to wash up and change into your nightgown, slipping under the warm covers with the tea Helion gave you in hand. It has a rich floral scent and as you take your first sip, it brings instant relief to the dull ache in your head. When you’re done, you place the empty cup onto your nightstand and lay down, closing your eyes.

You find yourself trapped in a dark, oppressive forest.

The trees are twisted and gnarled, their branches reaching out like skeletal hands. In the distance, you hear the sinister laugh of Koschei, the death god who you've learned loves to trap women. His voice is a chilling whisper, echoing through the trees, “You cannot escape me.”

Suddenly, the scene shifts, and you’re back in the Court of Nightmares, having to suffer through another court affair. Your hair is pulled so tight into a bun and the corset of your dress barely gives any room to breathe properly. The oppressive atmosphere presses down on you, taking even more of your breath away. You’re standing before your father, his eyes cold and unyielding.

“You will marry Lord Berbrooke.”

“No,” you whisper, eyes widening in fear as Lord Berbrooke appears at your father’s side. Your hands reach for your father’s arms, a desperate attempt to stay with him instead of leaving. You’d much rather continue to endure a life of neglect and solitude than a life that promised violence and bruises.

“Grandfather wouldn’t want this.”

Your father yanks his arm out of your grip, staring you down with a glare. “Your grandfather is dead. It does not matter what he wants.”

Fear grips you as Lord Berbrooke steps closer, a predatory smile on his face. You try to run, but your feet are rooted to the spot. He laughs, the sound chilling you to the bone. It morphs into the sinister laugh from earlier. Lord Berbrooke’s face flickers and shifts, morphing between his own and what your mind imagines of Koschei.

Panic surges through you, and you cry out for help, but your voice is swallowed by the darkness.

You wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing and breaths coming in ragged gasps. Goosebumps prick your skin as the sinister laugh echoes in your mind, refusing to fade. Panic grips you, and without a second thought, you throw off the covers and rush out of your room, desperate to escape the haunting sound that seems to follow you.

Something deep in his chest stirs, flooding him with unease. The bond. Something is wrong. Azriel’s head instinctively turns to his door, shadows sensing your presence in the hallway. Though small and quiet, he can hear your pacing and sense your hesitation as you face his door.

Azriel rushes to the door immediately and opens it. Concern etches on his face as he takes in your trembling form, the way your hands are covering your ears and eyes stricken with pure fear.

His hands reach for yours, gently removing them from your ears. Your eyes remain frantic, scanning over him, as if trying to discern if he is real or not. Without another word, Azriel pulls you into his arms, the familiar warmth and scent of him grounding you.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he murmurs. His hands rub soothing circles on your back, and you cling to him.

“I had a nightmare,” you whisper, pulling back slightly and looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “About Koschei, and then I was back in the Court of Nightmares. My father… Lord Berbrooke…”

Azriel’s eyes darken with anger and protectiveness. You don’t need to say any more for him to understand. “You’re safe now,” he says firmly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

His words and the strength of his embrace begin to calm the storm inside you. You bury your face in his chest, taking in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Can I stay with you?”

“Always.” Azriel answers and then he’s guiding you into his room.

He helps you to his bed, tucking you under the covers before carefully settling on the other side. You nestle closer into his chest, your head finding its place against his heart again. His chin rests atop your head and neither of you speak for a while.

“Thank you,” you breathe, voice heavy with emotion.

Azriel knows your thankfulness extends beyond tonight. He had been the one to save you from that dreadful fate that night in the Court of Nightmares. He had been the one to bring to Rhysand’s attention of your grandfather’s forged will, helping you search for the real one. And when Rhysand had moved you to Velaris, Azriel had been your first friend.

“Do you feel better or would you like me to make you–”

“I feel better,” you interrupt, not wanting him to leave, even if it's to make you another tea. “Just your presence is enough,” you confess quietly. “You have a way of making me feel safe and at peace, Az.”

At those words, Azriel feels like he might burst with emotion. He tightens his hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. If only you knew…

As you walk through the library of the Day Court, you take one last look around, letting your gaze sweep over the grand space. The high, arched windows allow streams of the setting sun to filter in, casting a warm glow on the polished marble floors. There are rows upon rows of polished wooden shelves and books of every size and color line them, their spines creating a mosaic of knowledge and history. The scent of parchment and old leather, is one you’ll always hold dear.

Tonight is your last night here. A trail of shadows follows you, blending into the shafts of the light and shadows cast by the towering bookshelves. Rhysand, lounging in the entrance of the library, notices the once unusual sight that has now become routine..

“What are you, a Shadowsinger now?” he quips.

You glance back, catching a glimpse of Azriel’s shadows entwined with your own. They’ve become increasingly protective of you lately, always trailing close, whether you're heading to the library or simply going about your day. What you hadn’t noticed until now was how their numbers had grown since last night.

“I’ve never seen his shadows act like that,” Rhysand comments.

“Oh really?”

Rhysand nods, a glint dancing in his eyes. He gives a small wave to one of the tendrils peeking over your shoulder, lips curving upwards when it cowers away. “They usually stick to him, rarely leaving his side. It seems you’ve captured their interest as you’ve captured their master’s.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his implication. “I guess they like me,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.

Rhysand’s grin turns knowing. “It’s more than that, Y/n. Azriel’s shadows are an extension of his will. They’re drawn to what he cares about most.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “I suppose I should thank them for showing me such care.”

Rhysand chuckles. “Or thank Azriel.”

Rhysand’s words linger with you throughout the evening, much like Azriel’s shadows. A spark of hope blooms in your chest, daring to blossom into something more. You knew Azriel cared for you, but caring for others was in his nature. That’s who he was—caring and protective.

You glance at the shadows caressing your arms, a pensive frown tugging at your lips. In all the years you’ve known him, you had never seen his shadows linger on Rhysand or Cassian. Or Mor, who you were so sure held the Shadowsinger’s affections.

You recall the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the rare smiles he reserved only for you, the protective glances he shot your way whenever danger was near. Your heart races as the pieces start to fit together, a mixture of shock and elation coursing through your veins. Dare you hope that the man you had loved in secret for so long might feel the same?

The idea seems almost too good to be true, and yet…his shadows were here, with you, wrapped around your fingers. Quite literally.

You look down at the shadows twining with your fingers, a small, hopeful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. For the first time, you allow yourself to entertain the possibility.

With this newfound hope, you head toward the Day Court’s kitchen.

After praising the chef one night, he invited you to his kitchen, offering to teach you how to prepare some of the Day Court’s delicacies. Eager to express your gratitude to Azriel for always being there for you and to Helion for being a gracious host, you decide to finally take up on the chef’s offer. Perhaps, you can even sneak in some of Azriel’s favorites into tonight’s menu.

As it was the last night of your stay, Helion had invited close friends and other allies of his court, filling the grand dining hall with laughter and conversation. You quietly took your seat across from Rhysand and beside Azriel, murmuring a soft greeting. Helion winks at you and the shadow around your arm tenses.

The High Lord of Day stands from his seat, at the head of the table. He raises his glass with a broad grin. “A toast to the Night Court, our cherished guests. It has been an honor to host you all, and I sincerely hope we may have the pleasure of your return soon.”

Everyone at the table raises their glasses, including Azriel—though only after a nudge from you. His expression remains flat and dry as he lifts his glass. You clink yours against his with a teasing glint in your eyes, coaxing a small smile from his lips.

Helion takes a seat and with a wave of his hand, tonight’s feast materializes in front of you. There’s a slight raise in Rhysand’s brow, betraying his mild surprise. Every single platter–from the appetizers to dessert seems to be a perfect blend of Day and Night delicacies with the names to match. There’s the bruschetta, the bread slices topped with sun-ripened tomatoes, fresh basil and a hint of night garlic. Then, there’s the spinach artichoke dip made from sun-infused spinach, blended with moon-cheese and served with nightshade vegetables.

Rhysand looks up, turning to Helion. “Compliments to the chef.”

Helion’s eyes twinkle with delight as he meets your gaze. “And y/n,” he says. “She collaborated with the chef to create tonight’s dinner.”

You smile, a touch of pride warming your cheeks as you look around the table. However, the smile quickly fades when you hear a sudden spluttering. It’s Azriel. He spit his food out, his face a mask of horror and conflict.

“Azriel?” you ask in concern.

He stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “I’m not hungry,” he mutters, his voice suddenly tight.

Your face flushes and a nervous laugh escapes you. “Relax, it’s not poison,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood. But your attempt falls flat.

“I’m not hungry,” he repeats more forcefully, then turns and leaves the room, his movements stiff and tense.

Your eyes begin to sting with unshed tears, the hurt and confusion overwhelming you. You slump back into your chair. “I don’t think I’m hungry either,” you whisper, the words barely audible.

Rhysand nudges your foot from under the table. “Don’t mind him,” he says softly, violet eyes filled with sympathy. “Please, eat. You’ve worked so hard on this.”

You nod, trying to muster the strength to lift your fork, but the sting of Azriel’s rejection is too much. You push the food around your plate, your appetite completely gone. The evening that had started with such promise now feels like a distant memory, overshadowed by whatever tension has now befallen between you and Azriel.

In the corridor outside the dining hall, Azriel leans against the wall, his heart pounding. He knows he’s hurt you, but the thought of unintentionally accepting the bond is too much for him to bear. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The guilt gnaws at him, a constant reminder of the fragile line he’s been walking.

One more night, he reminds himself. One more night and then he can tell you everything.

He can only hope you don’t already hate him for tonight.

Tossing and turning, you let out a long breath as you stare up at the ceiling. Your stomach grumbles, reminding you that you hadn’t indulged in the dinner you had put so much effort into crafting. How could you, when the one person you made it for refused to have even a bite?

His reaction had been as clear as day. Repulsed.

Now, doubts flood your mind. What if you've completely misread everything? The shadows beside you, initially a source of comfort, were beginning to stir unsettling thoughts in you. Maybe Azriel sent them not because he cared so deeply for you but out of obligation and pity?

You're not a High Lord like Rhysand, nor a warrior like Cassian or Mor who fought in the war. You’re just a noblewoman from the Court of Nightmares who fled from a forced marriage. How typical and utterly helpless. That’s what you’ve been since you met Azriel. It shouldn’t have shocked you that he followed you into Day Court.

Any hope that had blossomed in your heart now withers. You were a fool to even entertain the thought. You’ve known Azriel for almost a century and in those years, he’s never hinted at seeing you as anything more than a friend so why would it change now?

Throwing off the covers, you sit up abruptly, gaze flickering towards the door. The urge to confront him grips you fiercely. He did not have to return your feelings but he didn’t have to hurt your feelings so harshly by spitting out your food. You had to settle whatever this was now, even if it left you broken-hearted.

Without bothering to change out of your nightwear, you leap from your bed. The shadows on your bed stir awake and your footsteps quicken, fearing his shadows would reach him before you could.

They beat you to it, even going as far as opening the door for you, allowing you to barge into his room. You’re not surprised to see Azriel wide awake. His shadows must’ve warned him beforehand. He sits on his bed, already facing you and you hate the way your gaze falls to his bare chest. Your eyes trail up the intricate tattoos etched there, slowly making your way up.

The words catch in your throat. You’re nervous. A foreign feeling around Azriel. It makes you want nothing more than to turn and run out the door. His shadows shut the door behind you as if sensing your thoughts.

You refuse to meet his eyes, fearing what you’d find in those hazel depths. “You hate me don’t you?”

The words tumble out unexpectedly, sending a chilling shiver through you. His gaze flickers downward, catching the way you nervously fidget with your fingers, before lifting with intent and searching for your eyes.

“What?”

The sound that leaves Azriel borders on what sounds like amusement, and you cringe, turning your head away. Tears prick your eyes, his shadows rushing to wipe them away gently, coaxing your gaze back to their master. When his eyes meet yours, all you see is concern.

A strange sensation creeps along your ribcage as he stands from the bed, stepping closer to you.

“I don’t hate you.” Azriel states firmly and when his words don’t soothe you as he expected they would, he frowns. His hands replace the shadows brushing against your face. “What makes you think that? What’s wrong?”

“I should be asking you that question,” you laugh humorlessly, casting your gaze down. “Something has gotten into you. You’ve been acting so differently, and at first, I thought—well, it doesn’t matter what I thought as I seem to be wrong every time–”

“It does matter. Tell me.”

It’s now or never. Your throat tightens as you muster the courage—the last bit you have, having used most of it to barge into his room.

“We’ve been walking a fine line, you and I. For decades. Almost a century... And now, I realize you’ve simply been too kind to reject me. I’m sorry if running to you after that nightmare was too much, but did you have to spit out my food? I would’ve preferred if you’d just told me you didn't like me instead of showing me.”

“You’re not making any sense right now.” Azriel says.

“Neither are you.” You shoot back.

“I don’t hate you,” Azriel repeats, hurt flashing across his face at the thought of making you feel that way.

“You spit out my food in front of everyone, Az.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

You feel Azriel’s hand tense against your face. “I can’t say.”

Your breath hitches, and you take a couple of steps back, removing his hands from you. “Because you hate me.”

Azriel’s eyes shut tightly for a moment, his head turning toward the window. He feels the faint warmth of the rising sun and inhales deeply. There’s something burning bright in his eyes when he looks at you again.

“Because you are my mate.”

Mate.

A vulnerable shakiness accompanies the word. The words hang in the air, heavy and shocking. The feeling teasing at your ribcage begins to crawl upwards. Your heart skips a beat as it meets your chest, awakening something deep inside you that you hadn’t realized you had.

Mate.

“I’m your what?” You gasp, your heart pounding in your chest as the golden threads of fate begin to unravel.

“You feel it now, don’t you?” Azriel approaches slowly, his expression tense and cautious. “You’re my mate. The bond snapped as you were winnowing away. That’s why I followed after you. I wanted to tell you, but Rhysand asked me not to. At least not until we were done here.”

Your racing heart sinks into your stomach. More tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision. “So you don’t want me as your mate either…”

“No,” Azriel’s eyebrows knit together so hard you worry they’ll stick, shadows swirling around him like storm clouds. His hand reaches out for you but you take a step back. “I’m happy it’s you. Relieved. I’ve loved you for so long...”

Your tears fall freely and he takes another deep breath, wings shuddering along with the timber of his voice. “Gods, do you know how agonizing these past days have been for me? Watching you fall in love with this court, with—” He hesitates, unable to say his name “—it’s High Lord.”

His words ignite a spark within you, fanning the hope that had begun to take root in your chest.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t fall in love with this court," you begin and Azriel gives a subtle wince, looking away from you. "But Day is not my home."

Slowly, Azriel looks back at you, and a torrent of emotions floods over you. You're uncertain if they are yours or his, as the bond between you surges like a turbulent river.

“The Night Court is. That’s where my family is. That’s where you are. I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Not even Prythian’s best library.”

Azriel’s eyes soften and when he takes a step forward, you don’t step back. A glimmer of hope lights up his features. “And what of it’s High Lord?”

“He’s nice but he’s not you.” You say with a soft smile. “I love you and only you.”

Azriel cups your face in his hands, leaning his forehead against yours. The smile that breaks out on his rivals the brilliance of the rising run behind him. “I’ve admired you, desired you for so long…I just didn’t want to rush you and when the bond snapped, I feared it’d overwhelm you."

You look up at him, the raw honesty in his eyes reflecting your own emotions. “So, what now?”

Azriel brushes the last tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and reverent. “Be mine?”

A shaky laugh escapes your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.

“Always.”

And then you kiss him, the bond between you shimmering and glittering. A tangible, golden connection intensifying with every heartbeat.

a/n: I don't like the way I ended this 😭 not my best tbh, I just feel like it was missing something. I honestly wasn't expecting the high demand for a part two to Be Safe so I hope you enjoyed some of this as much as the first part. Anyway, here's a little meme I had made for this fic while I was procrastinating on finishing it.

here's a bonus scene.

tag list (tagged all those who commented and reblogged with tags, in case you wanted to read more. sorry if I missed some!): @jswizzlewrites , @hellodarling1357, @fxckmiup, @pricklepearbloom,

@tothestarsandwhateverend, @mika-no-sekai-blog, @cherryjain17, @illyrian-dreamer,

@darlingbravebelle, @katherinejess, @lady-of-tearshed, @daisesarelove, @beardburnsupersoldiers

@assriels, @sunshinepeachx, @buckyandgeraltsupremacy

@brieflyclassymortal, @thesunloveschips, @silver-flames-47, @ladybirdbeetle7, @everythingacotarbxm1012

@starlitlakes, @mxtantrights, @itsallacotar, @mother-above, @andreperez11

@coolepowersthings, @littlebookbengal, @lipstickmarks, @aneekapaneeka, @harrypottergirl162

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

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel imagine #azriel one shot #azriel fanfiction #be safe az

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