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illyrianbitch · 1 month ago

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A Sleeping Guide for Insomniacs

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel has spent weeks watching the light from your shop burn long into the night. Tonight, when sleep refuses him once again, he finally follows it.

Warnings: Az's mental state is not the greatest aka self-deprecation, envy, loneliness, insomnia… but also a growing cruuuush!!

Word Count: 3.9k

Series Masterlist | Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Step One: Find the Light

Every insomniac has a lighthouse — some flickering glow that keeps them tethered through the long, unbroken dark. It might be the streetlamp outside your window. The low burn of coals in the hearth. The lonely glint of a candlelit window across the city. It will not always be the brightest light. But it will be the one you cannot stop looking at.

— (A Sleeping Guide for Insomniacs, 14)

Azriel never slept.

Not really, not the way the others did.

He’d gotten used to it over the centuries, the way his mind, despite being fraught with exhaustion, never seemed to leave him alone. When he was younger, he used to think it was a blessing —in some weird, twisted way.

His ability to remain constantly thinking, worrying, conjuring up every thought he could, occupied him. Kept him company. That, along with his shadows, made him feel less alone. Even if it made him miserable.

Because at least then, he was miserable with company—of his own making, of course.

But lately, it had been worse.

It wasn't just the exhaustion anymore. Not just the restless hum beneath his skin that never truly faded. It was something else, something much heavier.

His shadows felt it, too. They lingered closer than usual, curling over his shoulders, tugging at his wrists—searching for something they couldn’t name. Herding him toward sleep he never took. They were restless, too. Tired in a way that wasn’t natural.

Tonight was no different. Sitting in bed was proving to be pointless. He was too exhausted to untangle everything he felt, anyway. It was all muddled together now—the anxiety, the anger, the fear, the stress. Heavy and dark, pressing into his ribs until it hurt to breathe. Like something had cracked inside him. Like he was suffocating beneath the weight of his own life.

He exhaled sharply and glanced toward the window. The sky outside was clear. He stared at it for a few moments.

Then, like always, Az moved.

The roof was where he ended up on nights like this. Perched above the world, half-hidden in the shadows, he could watch the city without being seen. He tried not to think about the joke Mor had made once—that he looked like some strange gargoyle up here. She wasn't entirely wrong.

But he couldn't shake the habit. Something about it made him almost feel like a child again. He wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. Didn't care enough to think about it too long.

Azriel leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, scanning the quiet streets below.

He thought he would get used to the silence. After all, Az liked his solitude.

But with everyone else moved on, living in their own spaces, the townhouse was too still. Too empty. He missed the sounds of life filling the space. The steady heartbeats. The familiar voices. The laughter of his family drifting from different rooms. Sure, he didn’t always join in, but he liked knowing they were there. Liked knowing they were safe.

Without them, the loneliness settled in his bones.

On nights when the ache felt unbearable, when the silence stretched too long, too empty—he hated how bitter it made him. Hated that he wished his family felt it too. Wished they were just as alone, just as lost, so he wouldn’t be the only one.

And then he’d hate himself for it. The thought made him sick. Made him ashamed.

It wasn’t fair. He knew that. He didn’t mean it, either. He knew that, too.

But it was getting harder to tell which version of himself was real—the one who loved his family enough to encourage them moving on, or the one who resented being left behind. The one that seethed with loneliness.

Maybe both.

Maybe neither.

He tilted his head back, staring at the night sky. A few birds—maybe bats, though Az wasn't sure—flew overhead, their dark shapes cutting across the stars. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like to just fly. To fly without a destination, without a place to go. Just fly, and be free, and not have to think about anything at all.

Great. He was jealous of a fucking bird.

Azriel huffed a quiet breath, shaking his head, and let his gaze drift back down. The city stretched before him, lanterns faintly glowing along the cobbled streets.

It was there again.

A single shop, its light still flickering in the dark.

He’d noticed it before. He knew the shop, too—a small candle store tucked between the narrow alleys, the one he passed by more often than he should. He’d seen you through the windows, tending to customers, organizing shelves. You weren’t a stranger, not exactly. He knew your name. Your business. And yet, he didn't know you.

He wanted to, though. Strangely enough, he did.

Because every night, long past reason, your light was still on.

And every night he found himself looking for it. Searching for that small, flickering glow in the dark.

It was curiosity at first. A distraction. Something to focus on when the silence became too much. But then he started wondering. About you. About why you stayed up so late, what kept you there when the rest of the city had long since gone to sleep.

Perhaps it was selfish of him to be grateful that someone else was as sleepless as he was. But he was. He was grateful that within the past few heavy and lonely months, you had kept him company without even realizing it.

Azriel stared at the light for a few more moments.

And then, before his mind could catch up—

He was moving once again.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The city was different at this hour. Liminal. Caught between worlds. Azriel liked it like this, when it was neither awake nor asleep. When it was just existing—silent and undisturbed.

And yet, as he walked, that quiet was not as comforting as it should've been.

Because he noticed, now, how much darker some streets were. How the silence didn't feel like peace and safety.

When he reached your shop, he stopped.

The door was open.

Not just unlocked, but open. The sign hanging in the window still read: OPEN.

His brows furrowed. That was dangerous. Reckless. Did anyone else know you were here, alone in the dead of night? Was there someone inside with you?

Anything could happen.

He hated that thought.

Hated it because it was true. Because his city was not as safe as it should be. Because if he—the Night Court’s Spymaster, its protector—could think such a thing in the middle of Velaris, then what did that say about him?

What did that say about what he had failed to protect?

His jaw tightened. His shadows shifted. He thought about leaving. Thought about stepping away before he made this mean something it didn't.

Then the door moved.

A figure stepped out—a male, hunched over slightly, shoulders drawn. There was something shaken in his expression, something raw. His eyes flicked to Azriel, widening slightly in recognition before his gaze dropped in silent understanding. He nodded—just once—before slipping into the night.

Azriel watched him go. Then turned back to the open door.

And stepped inside.

The shop was warmer than he expected, its air thick with scent—layers of them, pressing in from all sides. Sweet, sharp, earthy, floral. It should've been overwhelming. Usually, it would've been. Azriel got overwhelmed quicker these days.

Instead, it felt comforting. Welcoming.

And, for just a moment, Azriel forgot that outside was still cold. Still dark. Still waiting.

He stood in the entrance for a few more seconds. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for, if he was waiting for anything at all. All he knew was that your light stayed on long after every other window in Velaris had gone dark— and something about that made him feel connected to you.

A small thud pulled his attention.

And, for another moment, Azriel forgot how to move.

You were there, at a small front counter, and you were beautiful.

Not in the way that all beautiful things were, but in a way that felt undeniable. A certain kind of beauty that made his body stop. Made his mind stutter.

It was a stupid reaction from him, really. He'd seen you before in passing, had walked past this place nearly a hundred times. He knew, on paper, who you were. And yet—

He had never seen you like this. In the dead of night, surrounded by sleepy fae lights and the smell of a thousand memories.

He forced himself to look away, feeling a timid sense of embarrassment burning under his skin. He did the only thing he could think to do, then. He wandered.

The store wasn't a large space by any means, but Az made a show of studying it, drifting through the narrow isles, letting the scents shift around him. He tucked his wings in tight, careful not to knock over any of the delicate glass jars and candles. He knew his luck well enough to know that if something could be broken, it would be.

His shadows stirred with his movements, tugging at him like restless children eager to explore. Az let himself indulge, just slightly, as his fingers trailed over the shelves' edges.

Az reeled them in when they spread out too far.

Usually, he felt guilty for how little rest they got, how they tried to match his own sleeplessness. Even after all these centuries, he wasn’t quite sure how they slept, if they needed it the way he did. But tonight, they were quieter. Slower. And for once, he was grateful. It made it easier to keep them close, to keep himself contained.

Azriel stopped in front of a small display of candles.

They weren’t perfect. The wax wasn’t always smooth, some wicks sat slightly off-center, and a few had tiny air bubbles trapped beneath the surface. But they were beautiful. The glass containers varied—some clear, others tinted amber or deep green. A few were housed in pottery, the edges slightly uneven, the glaze catching the dim light in soft, imperfect ripples.

The labels on each were equally beautiful: handwritten in careful script, some adorned with pressed flowers or gold foil.

He could tell that care has been put into them. None of them had been made to look exactly like the next. Something in his chest ached at that. In awe, maybe. In envy, too. He wasn't sure why. He didn't question it, though. He was envious of everything recently. Bitter.

Slow, gentle tendrils of shadow ghosted across the shelf, slipping over the carefully arranged candles, tracing the delicate script on their labels. They curled against the wall before settling over one in particular.

Az picked it up.

He wasn't sure why he did. There was no real reason to smell any candle—nothing but the simple truth that he was stalling. That he wasn't quite ready to leave, that standing here doing nothing was more conspicuous than pretending to browse.

So he lifted the candle to his nose.

And immediately regretted it.

The scent that filled his lungs was atrocious.

Something rotting, something sour, something deeply wrong. Like burnt hair and spoiled fruit and the sharp tang of metal. He nearly recoiled— nearly.

Years of his duties had taught him how to keep his face unreadable. He was grateful for that training now, for those unrealistic expectations he'd set upon himself. He didn't need to see his reflection to know there was no hint of his disgust in his face.

There could be a trace in his eyes, maybe. His mother always said they were rather expressive. It was why he didn't hold eye contact as long as his brothers.

But no one was looking at his eyes now.

Slowly, carefully, he lowered the candle.

And glanced at the shelf.

There was no visible label. No indication of what, exactly, he had just inhaled. Only his shadows, spread across the wall still. Although they sensed his distress, they were utterly unhelpful — a few lone wisps coiling around him in amusement, their edges twitching with silent laughter.

He exhaled sharply. From across the room, he heard the sound of something else. The sound of you—soft laughter, just barely contained.

He glanced up to you already watching him, a knowing look in your eyes. He willed himself to look away, quicky placing the candle back on the shelf, pulling his hands away from view. But seconds later, he felt you approach him, felt the warmth of your presence stretch out like he was sat near a fire.

You cleared your throat. Gently, elegantly, like you were afraid to spook him. He took a deep breath, focused his control on his shadows, and turned to look at you.

You titled your head. "So? What do you think?"

He offered you a tight, polite smile— if you could even call it that. In reality, it was a tiny tug at the corner of his lips. Just movement enough to show he was not a threat, movement enough to not seem rude.

"It's lovely," Azriel said, lying.

"Really?"

"Yes."

You paused. Watched him too closely. Then, with what seemed to be barely contained amusement, you said, "Would you like to buy it? I'm having a sale."

There was a beat of hesitation. He should've said no. He knew this. He had no use for any candles, let alone ones that stirred up a gag reflex he never knew he had. But he couldn't. It would be rude, to enter your shop, to touch all of its offerings, and not buy something — right?

His shadows curled around his ear, whispering their betrayal in a hushed murmur.

Must buy. Sweet. Perfect.

Another wisp twined around his wrist, prodding at his fingers, amused. It appeared him and his shadows had different definitions of what perfect smelled like.

"I would," Azriel said.

"Really?"

"I have some people in my life who love scents like this."

You furrowed a brow, the corners of your lips tilting into a hesitant smile. There was something so alive about the way your features moved. Animated, shifting, vibrant. He wished Feyre was here—if only to memorize your face and paint it later. Capture whatever it was that made you feel so… present. "You do?"

He didn't, but Azriel nodded anyway.

"That's interesting."

Azriel immediately regretted speaking. There was a right and a wrong answer, it seemed. And he knew, from the glint in your eye, that his answer was wrong.

You plucked the candle from the shelf, turning it between your fingers before giving him a slow, knowing smile. “Because this one is specifically designed to be awful.”

His brows lifted slightly. He glanced back at the shelf, at the small section his shadows had now uncovered—an area filled with other unlabeled candles, their scents likely just as offensive. And there, right above them, a small carved sign: For Particular Noses and Mischievous Reasons.

Azriel exhaled through his nose. His shadows curled around him in clear amusement. Traitors.

They whispered back, gleeful and smug. Mischievous reasons, yes.

“They’re kind of oddly specific,” you admitted, setting the candle back down. “People like to use them as jokes, but sometimes they sell—people have weird cravings. You’d be surprised what some fae miss from their old lives. Even the gross stuff. I think it's sweet, in a way.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes drifting back to you.

You didn’t sleep.

He knew that, of course, from the days spent watching your light from across the city.

But he could see it now, even more clearly than before. The faint shadows beneath your eyes, the way your movements were just a little too slow, too careful, as if you were running on borrowed energy. He knew that feeling well.

It was strange. He hated the way exhaustion looked on himself. It made him feel weary, tired, unapproachable. Unattractive. But on you…

He was inclined to say it was pretty — and that it was wrong. Wrong that you were awake only at night, that you were tucked away in this tiny shop, unseen by most of the world. It felt almost sinful that the daylight, and those who thrived in it, couldn't witness you like this.

Azriel shifted his weight, forcing the thought from his mind.

It was just the lack of sleep making him strangely soft, uncharacteristically fond of a stranger. He needed to fix his image now before he made an even bigger fool of himself.

“You don’t have to get that one,” you murmured, your fingertips brushing over the candles like they were something precious.

Azriel had seen lovers touch each other with less fondness. A strange, twisting thing settled in his chest at the thought—because he couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him like that.

He suddenly felt like an intruder in a place meant for softer things than him.

“No,” he said, too quickly. “I liked it.”

You pressed your lips together, amused. He was making a fool out of himself, this he was sure of. But he didn't mind. You looked at him. Said nothing. Just looked.

Az was suddenly very aware of himself. Of the way his fingers curled against his sides, of the way he was standing too stiffly, too awkwardly. He felt on display.

His shadows betrayed him first—darting toward you, reaching, playful. He clenched his fists, willing them back before they could weave themselves around your wrist or through your hair. They had never done that before, not without his command. He had to fight them. Maybe himself, too.

You turned, slowly walking and scanning the shelves until you plucked something from one of the quieter, more tucked-away sections.

Azriel barely noticed at first. His mind was elsewhere—distracted, unmoored. The scent of you lingered in the air, something soft, something warm, and his shadows—traitorous things—drifted toward it. Like they wanted to pull it apart, understand it, memorize it. He only just managed to reel them back in before you turned.

You held the candle out to him.

He stepped toward you. “What is it?”

“Something I think you’d like.”

He hesitated before taking it, siphons glowing faintly as his fingers brushed against yours. He stilled.

He hated how much they stood out in places like this, how the gleam of them felt unnatural against the warm, quiet glow of the shop. He never took them off. Never would. He wondered if you thought it was strange.

If you did, you didn’t show it. You didn’t even glance at them, didn’t react to the scars on his hands. Your fingers didn’t flinch against his.

You didn’t seem to notice at all.

But Azriel did. He always did.

He looked at the object in his hand.

It was a small thing, carefully crafted like all the others, and the glass was warm from where your fingers had been. He turned it over, reading the handwritten label. The written scent was unfamiliar, but when he lifted the lid and breathed it in, something settled inside him.

It was subtle. The first thing he caught was something clean, airy—like the hush of the sky just before dawn. Then something deeper, warmer. A hint of cedarwood, maybe. And beneath it all, the faintest trace of something he couldn't quite name—something like parchment, like ink that settled into the pages of a well-worn book.

It smelled… quiet.

Reminded him of early mornings in the House of Wind before anyone else was awake. Of sitting in the dim glow of faelight, tracing his fingers over old maps during times of peace, his shadows curled lazily at his feet. It smelled like the moments he let himself pause.

There hadn't been many of those recently.

“One of my favorites,” you said softly. “I call it Stillness.”

He swallowed, carefully put the lid back on, and met your eyes. "I can see why. I like it."

You smiled at him. It was a shy smile, much more reserved than your other reactions. "Yeah?"

Azriel nodded. Meant it, this time, as he said, "It's lovely."

For a moment, everything slowed as he held your gaze.

His chest felt too tight, his shadows too still. He cleared his throat.

His shadows jumped at the sound, gently scattering like birds startled from a perch. It made him feel better—that they, too, had been stuck in some strange, lingering moment. That it wasn’t just him.

"I'll take this one."

You led him to the counter, and he watched as you carefully wrapped the candle in brown paper. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a few coins, but before he could set them down, you shook your head.

“It’s on the house.”

He frowned. “No, that’s—”

“It’s on the house,” you repeated, "Consider it an apology gift, for not offering the proper warning regarding my more…unique scents."

You leaned forward slightly, voice dropping into something conspiratorial, something soft. "I saw your face. I'm just happy I didn't have to clean vomit off my floor."

Azriel's ears burned. He was suddenly very grateful his hair had grown out some, that the longer strands covered the worst of it. He looked down, collected himself for a brief moment, and then met your eyes once more.

“You’re welcome to come by anytime. I appreciate the company.” You slid the package toward him, gaze flicking to his shadows. Your lips twitched, just slightly, as you added, "In all the forms that they may come in."

His shadows preened at the words, swirling a little closer to you, begging to brush against your wrist like a cat seeking affection.

He didn't know why that made his heart stutter.

Maybe it was because most people ignored them. Or feared them. Or spoke about them in hushed tones, like they were something to be managed, tolerated.

You acknowledged them. Spoke to them like they were something welcome, something natural. And they responded to you, drawn in, pleased. As if they liked being seen by you. He wasn’t sure what to make of that.

With a small nod, Az murmured, “Thank you.”

And then he left.

When he got home, Azriel placed the candle on his bedside table.

He didn't light it. Couldn't bring himself to, for some strange, aching reason. He only lifted it to his nose, breathed in its scent, and let it settle into his lungs.

For once, the weight in his chest felt manageable.

He thought about that first awful candle. Thought about the small smile you'd given him, how you'd let him flounder in his own forced politeness before revealing the joke.

In the quiet of his room, Az exhaled a quiet breath. Something close to a laugh. An almost-smile accompanied it.

He wondered if you could make candles that were even worse— if he could somehow commission a magical candle that smelled different to two halves of one whole. A sweet and sultry vanilla scent for Nesta that could bleed into rotten milk and dirty clothes whenever Cassian smelled it himself.

That gave him another almost-smile.

He didn't sleep. He didn't expect to. But when he laid down, shadows stirring beside him, falling into their gentle rhythm of rest, he didn't feel so sad anymore.

Whatever this was, this quiet, weightless feeling—it was close enough to peace for now.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

authors note: new mini series that’s already planned out!!! yippe!!! something about this series makes my heart warm. trust me when i say they’re so so so sweet. what do yall think 🥹

creating a taglist for this series tonight, lmk if you’d like to be added <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻:

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon @glam-targaryen

@cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg @evergreenlark

@marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@feyretopia @ninthcircleofprythian @azrielrot @justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli

@mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound

@melissat1254 @secretsicanthideanymore

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

@angel-graces-world-of-chaos @acoazlove @paradisebabey @inkedinshadows @mellowmusings

@paankhaleyaaar @curiosandcourioser @thisrandombitch @casiiopea2 @w0nderw0manly

@rottenroyalebooks @jurdanpotter @casiiopea2 @gamarancianne @weesablackbeak

@booksaremyescapeworld @knoxic @wynintheclouds @dacrethehalls @louisa-harrier

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pedroscurls · 5 months ago

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just the tip (one-shot)

summary: you're ready to take the next step with logan, but you're still a bit nervous. pairing: old man!logan x fem!reader content warnings: explicit smut (18+, mdni), inexperienced reader, missionary, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, logan can't control himself, implied age gap (but no mention of age), no use of y/n. word count: 3k a/n: ok, this is yet another one-shot of complete old man logan filth. it never really is just the tip, is it? 🤭 i'm just so obsessed with logan and can't figure out which version of him i want to write on most days lol. honestly, idk where this idea originated from, but here we are... i just have a fantasy of old man logan showing me the ropes ya know... anyway, hope you enjoy! 🙂‍↕️

Logan doesn’t know what he did in this life to ever deserve you. Someone so sweet, so patient, so kind, so pure. He doesn’t even know why someone like you would ever be interested in someone like him. He knows he’s no longer in his prime – his hair now a gray shade, beard overgrown with more gray than brown, crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, wrinkles around his face.

And you… You’re obviously much younger than him – everyone is much younger than him – but your innocence and your purity makes you seem so much younger than you really are, despite being very mature for your age. You smile so sweetly at him, gaze at him with such kind eyes that he doesn’t ever feel deserving of you.

But you had approached him first. All shy and unlike the rest of the girls in your group the night that you both met. You seemed so out of place, like maybe you had just been dragged along for the night because you were quiet, reserved, even when you had three drinks and one shot of tequila already.

The rest of your group was loud, outfits way too revealing that everyone had eyes on them. They craved and yearned for the attention, but you were fine with being in the background. This wasn’t usually how you spent most Friday nights, but your friends had convinced you and you owed one of them a favor.

You weren’t the prettiest in the group and you certainly never got the attention of anyone else when you were with them, but you didn’t mind. Your friends never made you feel less than you were, always the ones to reassure you and give you the confidence that you lacked.

And that night was no different. They had given you the confidence to approach Logan who was keen on spending just a couple of hours drinking his problems and nightmares away. Alone.

But when you sat next to him and flashed him that sweet smile paired with those kind eyes, Logan knew he wouldn’t have the strength to turn away from you. He tried to act like he wasn’t interested, tried to act like talking to you was an inconvenience, but it never deterred you. Instead, you remained seated next to him all throughout the night even well past the time the bar was closing.

“Your friends left you,” Logan told you.

“That usually is the plan,” you admitted.

His head tilted. “The plan is to go home with a stranger? Sounds dangerous if you ask me, bub.”

“I don’t usually do this.”

“Do what?”

“Go home with a stranger.”

“Ain’t going home with me,” Logan whispered. “I don’t do this either. Too old for this, actually.”

Logan didn’t miss the way your face fell at his words. All night, he kept asking himself why did you pick him? What was so special about him that you decided to spend the rest of your night talking to him?

“If I did invite you back to my apartment, would you say yes?” You asked quietly, your kind eyes now filled with hope.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

You didn’t push him, wanted to respect his decision and his boundaries. So instead, you grabbed a napkin off the bar counter and a sharpie before writing your name and phone number. “Call me?”

“Sure,” Logan lied, staring down at the napkin.

Once outside the bar, you pulled out your phone. “Well, I better call a Lyft now. It was really great talking with you, Logan.”

“Let me take you home at least,” he muttered.

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

“I’m a driver,” he chuckled lowly. “If you called a Lyft, there’s a high chance that it’d be me who takes you home anyway.”

“Okay,” you smiled up at him and Logan felt his heart race even faster at the sight.

And since then, you and Logan had developed a friendship that soon turned physical. Heavy make out sessions and lingering touches, but you hadn’t taken that extra step, hadn’t gone the full distance.

–

“I think I’m ready,” you tell him, hands resting on his shoulders as you sit on his lap.

“For?” Logan asks, head tilting as his strong hands rest on your upper thighs.

“To have sex with you.”

Logan clears his throat, can feel his manhood stir beneath his pants. He stares into your eyes, tries to search for any uncertainty but you look determined. You look like you’ve made up your mind.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs. “You know I’m fine with what we’ve been doing. I don’t want to push you or make you feel like you need to do this for me. We’ll go at your pace.”

“I trust you,” you admit quietly. “I’m not… experienced like other women my age should be, but–”

“Inexperienced or not, I don’t care about that.” Logan lifts you off his lap and sets you on the couch instead, his hands immediately moving to cover the center of his pants. “We don’t have to–”

“I want this, Logan. I want you. All of you.” You bite your lower lip and move to settle on your knees on the couch, staring up at him. “I’m not a virgin, but I haven’t been with many men before.”

Logan’s eyes narrow at you. “Oh, that so?” He isn’t sure why he feels jealous at your words, imagining other men who've had you in their bed. He’s had a taste of you, knows exactly what to do to get you to come and you’ve done the same to him. And yet, he hasn’t had you in a way these other men have.

You nod at him, so innocent and pure written on your features. He can sense your nervousness, but he can also smell your arousal. It hits his senses all at once and his gaze darkens. “I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Logan smirks. “I’ve seen the way you suck my cock,” he growls. “You ain’t gonna disappoint me.”

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, feel the wetness begin to settle between your legs, dampening your panties at his words. You loved when he would talk dirty to you; it only excited you even more. “Y– You like that, huh?”

Logan nods and stands up from the couch, lifting you into his arms without issue. “Of course,” he whispers, taking you to his bedroom as he walks into the room with you in his arms. “I love the fact that you like doing it too.”

You nod in agreement. “I do love it.”

Logan grins and sets you on his bed, watching as you prop yourself on your hands with your lower lip pulled between your teeth. And he wants so badly to respond and tell you that he loves you, but he doesn’t. Everyone that he’s ever loved was taken from him, so he doesn’t say anything.

“I know, you’re like a crazed animal.” Logan chuckles.

You pout up in his direction and gently reach out to tug on the waistband of his pants, pulling him to stand between your legs as your free hand moves to massage his crotch.

“See what I mean?” He groans, hardening even further with every graze of your hand. Logan gently takes your hand from him and shakes his head, lifting you further up the bed as he climbs atop of you. “You sure about this?”

You nod and move your hands to rest on his chest, feeling the muscle flex beneath your fingertips. “Yes,” you say almost breathlessly. “I’m just a bit nervous.”

Logan’s gaze softens and he looks down at you. You had broken through his hard exterior, had nestled your way into his heart, and even Charles had taken notice. You make him feel young again, like not all of the world’s responsibilities are weighing heavy on his shoulders. With you, he feels free, at peace. You manage to quiet all of the voices in his head, but he’d never tell you that.

“We’ll go at your pace,” he whispers, moving his hand down your side.

“I’m just nervous I won’t be able to take all of you,” you admit.

Logan chuckles and leans back on his knees to gently tug down your shorts and panties. He tosses it carelessly to the side and instantly, he smells your arousal hit his senses. He looks down at your lower half, sex glistening with your wetness. “It’ll fit,” he says lowly, hands moving up your legs. “We’ll make sure it does.”

“Maybe just start with the tip?” you ask, grabbing the ends of your oversized t-shirt above your head. You lie back down, hair splaying on his pillows as your body is now fully exposed and on full display for him.

Logan nods, pulling off his white tank-top over his head. He stands up momentarily to push down his pants, his manhood now standing at attention and leaking at the tip. He reaches down and strokes himself once, twice, before he settles himself between your legs.

“Gonna get you ready for me first,” Logan whispers, his large hand splaying over your abdomen as it slides down towards where you need him the most. He hovers above you, lips resting just near your ear as he slowly slides his middle finger past your folds. It slides in with ease, your slickness allowing for easy entry. Logan gently nips on your earlobe, grunting in your ear as you let out a quiet whimper at the intrusion.

“Logan,” you moan quietly, moving a hand to rest on his large bicep, gripping it tightly. This isn’t the first time Logan’s fingered you, but the anticipation of what’s to come has you clenching around his digit unintentionally.

“Already so wet f’me,” he whispers into your ear, slowly adding another digit into your depths. Logan ruts against the mattress, trying to find his own relief as he slowly begins to pump his fingers in and out of you.

You turn your head and bury your face against the crook of his neck, teeth grazing against his skin. “Logan,” you whimper, gasping quietly as you feel another digit enter you.

“That’s three already, sweetheart,” Logan growls as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you. When he feels your teeth gently bite down on his neck, he groans, thrusting his three digits inside of you as he begins to curl his fingers within your depths. “Come f’me, honey.”

“Logan, I–” you shut your eyes tightly and arch your back, your breasts pushing against his chest. Your walls tighten even further around his digits, your hips rolling upwards as you ride out your high.

Logan smirks and pulls back slowly, looking down at you as your chest heaves up and down. He pulls his fingers from you and looks down at it, his digits glistening with your arousal. He brings it to his lips and sucks your arousal from his fingers, eyes staring into your own once your eyes open. “Ready?”

You nod, biting your lower lip in anticipation. “Just the tip, okay?”

“Sure, sweetheart.” Logan says, leaning back on his knees as he reaches down to grasp onto the base of his manhood. He leans in closer, running his tip along the length of your sex, applying pressure to your bundle of nerves.

You look down between your legs and bite your lower lip. The sight of him holding onto the base of his length as he rubs his tip up and down the length of your sex, until his tip catches against your opening. “Logan…” you whimper, reaching out for him but he just uses his free hand to grab a hold of your wrists, pinning them above your head.

Slowly, Logan pushes his tip into you, feeling your tight walls immediately surround him. He groans and then pulls back, running his tip once more along you. Logan’s grip around your wrists tighten, pressing them further into the mattress as he pushes his tip – and only his tip – inside of your depths. Logan looks down and slowly pushes further into you, hearing you quietly gasp as a few more inches past his tip enter you.

“Logan, wait, baby–”

Logan growls and then suddenly slams all the way into you in one stroke. The warmth of your walls surround him, so tight and so wet as his lower half presses firmly against yours. “Fuck,” he groans, his now free hand coming up to rest on your cheek.

You feel your toes curl at the intrusion – nothing Logan did would have ever prepared you for the size of him. You can feel every inch and vein of his length inside of you, throbbing and stretching you. It’s so much, all at once, that when he pulls back only to thrust back in all the way, it causes your eyes to flutter.

“I said–” you moan. “Start with the tip…”

“Couldn’t help myself,” he groans, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. “You feel so good around me, sweetheart.” Logan feels your legs wrap around his waist, your ankles locking together at his lower back.

You nod in agreement, tears stinging your eyes. Logan’s so deep and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You keep your eyes open and trained on him. He hadn’t removed his glasses, now staring at you from the top of his glasses. You try to wiggle your hands free, but Logan’s grip just tightens even further.

“Logan, oh god,” you moan, his slow thrusts now picking up speed. He pulls out to his tip and then slams back into you, his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust. His hand moves from your cheek to grip your hip, fingertips digging into the meat of your flesh.

He knows that he probably won’t last any longer, the feeling of your tight walls gripping him, the way he’s easily sliding in and out of your depths due to how wet you are for him. It’s in moments like this where he doesn’t know why you still stick around, why you still continue to choose him. Logan releases your hands and grips your hips in both hands, pulling back to look down at you. Logan continues to thrust into you, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echo off the walls of his room.

Your hands immediately move to grip his sheets and he can feel your walls begin to tremble once more, can feel you begin to tighten around his length. Logan groans, eyes moving along your frame, his gaze lingering at the sight of your breasts bouncing with each sharp thrust he delivers. He knows his grip around your hips will leave marks and the thought of you walking around, going about your day with marks of him suddenly makes him feel territorial, suddenly has this desire to make everyone know that you’re his.

“Logan, I’m gonna–”

“Yeah, baby,” he groans. “I know, come f’me.”

And just on cue, your legs tighten even further around his waist as your walls tighten around his length. He can feel you shaking, can feel just a rush of wetness. “Logan!”

He groans. He’d never get tired of hearing his name escape your lips at the height of pleasure. Logan’s hips stutter, feeling a tightness build in the pit of his stomach as he chases his own release. He releases your hips to rest his hands on the mattress near your head, slamming his hips into yours – once, twice, three times before he releases inside of you, his seed filling you. He should have asked first, should have thought about using a condom, but when he pulls out of you and watches his seed trickle out of you, the guilt disappears immediately.

You stare up at him and then follow his gaze down between your legs, watching his spend come out of you and drop down onto his mattress, staining his sheets. “You’ll have to wash these now,” you tease, your voice almost breathless.

“Worth it,” he whispers, leaning down and gently pecking your lips.

“Was that– Was I okay?” you ask quietly, your hands slowly moving to his hair.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Logan says softly. “We’re gonna be doing more of that.”

An excitement flickers in your eyes and you grin, leaning up on your elbows to gently capture his lips with your own. “And just so we’re clear… I don’t mind that you came inside.”

Logan pulls back and looks down at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I like knowing that I can still feel you.”

Logan smirks and he can feel himself slowly begin to get hard again. His regenerative powers aren’t all that quick anymore, so he’s surprised that his manhood is stirring awake, yearning for you yet again.

“Next time we do this,” you begin quietly. “Can I ride you?”

Logan groans as he moves his hips, his tip slowly brushing against you. He slowly lies on his back and reaches down to stroke himself, eyes running across your frame. “Come on, then.”

“Wait,” you bite your lower lip. “You’re– How?”

“You make it easy,” he winks, reaching out to gently tap your hip. “Take what you need, sweetheart.”

You move to straddle his hips and Logan looks down to see his release trickle out of you, dripping onto the hair at his base. He stares up at you, feeling you slide down his length and he watches you tilt your head back, a moan escaping your lips. Logan bites his lower lip, hands moving to your hips as he gazes up at you. Logan knows that you’re way out of his league, that you deserve to be with someone closer to your age, but fuck – he’s going to keep you for as long as you allow.

Because Logan knows that he’s so deep in his feelings for you that he won’t ever choose to let you go.

And now, as you’re slowly rocking your hips, he’s going to keep this image in his mind until the day he dies.

His girl. His.

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman character #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fanfic #logan howlett smut #wolverine #old man logan #old man!logan #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x female reader #old man logan x reader #old man logan smut

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beforetimes · 1 month ago

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i know the most popular version of stories where shen yuan is a disciple under shen qingqiu are the ones where he looks identical to him, but i remember seeing someone once a few years ago raise the idea of if shen yuan looked identical to yue qingyuan, instead, and it's stuck in my head ever since

because, like, i think there would be a world of difference between a shen qingqiu forced to look at a younger version of himself and one that's forced to look at a younger version of his qi-ge, especially considering that shen yuan in this au would still be studying on qing jing peak. shen qingqiu in my eyes is someone who holds onto the past so severely while also being absolutely unwilling to acknowledge that it ever happened. think of his never-ending grudge with yue qingyuan that he refuses to confront, only ever avoiding the sect leader and refusing to talk about the actual issue at the root of it all.

with shen yuan on his peak, taking yue qingyuan's young face, it would suddenly be much harder for him to avoid the reminder of his past when it's staring him in the face and wandering around his peak all the time. in my eyes i think that shen qingqiu would oscillate between pretending shen yuan wasn't even there and being overly severe with him when yue qingyuan needles him one too many times at a peak lord meeting, testing his patience until shen qingqiu retreated back to his home to find the reminder of his frustration on his peak. again.

i also think that there's a world where shen qingqiu's very very rare moments of like. very subtle and quiet softness would come out around this iteration of shen yuan. but it's very rare. like, once within the span of two years type of rare. where maybe shen qingqiu remembers long since passed times of huddling for warmth with qi-ge under scraps of a ragged blanket at night and instead of bitter anger he just feels grief at their relationship tearing itself to pieces the way it did.

now, when it comes to yue qingyuan interacting with shen yuan, i think it would be far different from versions of disciple shen yuan fics where he looks like shen jiu. because in these, yue qingyuan is facing a conjuration of himself rather than the friend he left behind, and it's much harder to take pity on and find comfort in the image of his past self — someone i think he's incredibly critical of — when it feels more like looking his mistakes in the face than seeing a student.

which is unfair to the point that it can be argued to be out of character, but i think the way that guilt weighs so heavily on yue qingyuan would lead to it manifesting outside his endless needling of shen qingqiu and unwavering following of him. because those are, objectively, pretty neutral ways to deal with those feelings, but we never really see the uglier side of it all. because i think it would rebel against his image as a calm and collected sect leader. we do know, however, that he got pushed to the point once that he nearly tore himself apart in the ling xi caves, so is it reallyyyy out of the realm of possibility that when he sees a face that is so clearly a reminder of those times that he gives them the cold shoulder?

and imagine shen yuan's reaction to it all! barely a preteen, too young for his adult mind to catch up and feeling like he's thirteen all over again instead of the twenty-something year old he died as. he hears about this kind and partial sect leader through word of mouth and from reading the novel and expects at least one adult to rely on through all the inevitable hardships just to get brushed off and ignored. turned away so politely it's almost like ice. wanting to talk to someone about getting hazed by qing jing / bai zhan but knowing somehow that like. yue qingyuan knows, he's just not particularly motivated to do much because it's not technically his business, it's qing jing peak's. retreating back home just for shen qingqiu to snap at him more than any of his other students combined some days and treat him like a ghost that doesn't exist other days, no matter what rules he breaks or what he does to get his attention.

i just think it would be interesting!! i wonder very much how shen yuan could help to bridge the gap between yue qingyuan and shen qingqiu after being thrown in the mix like that. i feel it'd be out of character to say that shen qingqiu and yue qingyuan would immediately decide they needed to sort this out and get to the bottom of the mess surrounding their childhoods but i think shen yuan there as a fresh reminder to keep it ever on their minds would eventually push one of the two to the point of needing to say something about it after decades of dancing around the elephant in the room so delicately.

shrug. i think it's such a fun concept. i will write it soon. #trust

#svsss #scum villain #shen qingqiu #yue qingyuan #shen yuan #shen jiu #svsss au #svsss fanfiction #svsss headcanon #disciple shen yuan #scum villain au #mxtx #if i write a sequel to this post i will throw liu qingge in the mix somehow as well trust #sy looks like yqy au #milez writing

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aakeysmash · 5 months ago

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cw: toxic relationship. sukuna x f!reader. angst. suggestive. no happy ending. unedited because i can't be bothered.

it’s been years since you last heard his name.

it happens randomly. it's cold outside, your breath forming little clouds near your mouth, making you look like a smoker. you're walking inside a cafè after a long day, trying to warm up your hands and face, when, suddenly, you hear it.

a couple just exited from the door you were about to enter in. you don’t know why you stop to look at them, but you do. they're a bit awkward, averting their gazes, and you don't think the cold is the reason why their cheeks are reddening. fingers fidgeting, mouth gaping before closing suddenly.

"i had a really nice day," murmurs the girl. one of her hands is scratching her ear, the other beside her mouth to warm it up. "wanna do it again?"

"i work tomorrow," responds the guy. a wince. a glance to her lips. a subtle half step to get closer to her.

"oh," her face falls. she retreats on herself.

“but we can still see each other,” he rushes out.

a hopeful look. another subtle half step, from her this time. "where do you work?"

"sukuna's corporations, you know, down the street?"

sukuna. your eyes widen. your breath stops. a chill runs down your spine.

the outlines of the couple and of the café blur. suddenly, you're thrown back in time. you see your face in front of you, but you look weird. younger. innocent.

you’re ten. books are all scattered around you, a big red imprint of a hand on your cheek. your mother is high, tumbling over her words and tripping over her feet, screaming at you in the library. everyone is watching, but you don’t shed a tear. you’re so used to this. security comes, just like last week, and the one before that. a boy a little older than you pushes your mother away, offers you a hand to get up from the floor. you notice him: smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, pink hair, black inked bands on his outstretched wrist, probably done by himself without any parental agreement. let’s get you out of here. i’m sukuna.

the scene changes. you’re sixteen. your left ear is bleeding, but a hand reaches out to dab a cotton piece on it. a whisper. an attempt to comfort you from behind you. you try to turn around but you seem to be unable to. it's okay, baby, you look so much hotter like this, i promise. his voice is all around you. condescending, like he always was. more mature than the last scene, almost as if he developed. he’s eighteen, of course he developed.

the scene changes again. you’re outside of a club, he’s coughing blood. he just got out of a fight, you think. you’re crouching to give him a napkin, your hand on his back to reassure him. he grins up at you, red staining his usually pearly white teeth. your breath gets caught again. did his eyes always look so void? i love you, baby, you know that, don’t you? a lie. a smile. a kiss that tastes like iron.

then, the scenes in front of your eyes blur, like a massive sped up version of your last decade.

a cat on the street, you scratching its furry chin, looking up at the man behind you. it reminds me of you when it purrs, sukuna. a bored look. your smile dropping. a fake smirk, his fake kiss on your cheek. you're so cute, i love it. another lie.

his first car, you in the passenger seat, his hand on your thigh, a song playing in the background. i feel like this is our song, baby. a laugh. a kiss. you two fucking in said car, his breath on your ear, your moans in his. never cum like this for anyone else, do you understand? a nod. i love you, sukuna. he doesn't answer.

him moving in with you, buying you flowers every monday, because you told him you love flowers. you're everything, sukuna. tongues swirling. one of his hands grabbing your left boob. i'll always care about you, baby. a bite on your neck. insincere words floating too high for you to see them.

drinking coffee on a snowy morning, him working on his computer, getting snappy when you ask what he's doing for the third time. i'll be big some day. not like you. your gasp. his indifference.

you and him on a jog, him forgetting you’re there, flirting with a girl that passes by. your hurt look. a sorry, whispered on your lips with a flower behind your ear ten minutes later. i only have eyes for you. your faith in him. his averting gaze.

a man groping your ass. his fist colliding with the man's jaw. never touch my fucking girl again. happiness on your face. his arm draped over your shoulder. him massaging your calfs when you get home. you're mine only. forever. don't forget that. his kisses. his possessive hold on your hips when you sink on his cock.

him wiping your tears. him making you cry. him making you laugh about something stupid on his phone. more tears. love letters on your kitchen counter, signed with his name. glasses rimmed with lipstick in the sink, but you don't own that color. messy sheets after you fuck like animals on his birthday. the house empty on yours. his things gone. no texts. no calls. no signs that tell you he's been living inside your house, your head, your heart for 15 years. your fingers frantically pressing his phone number on your keypad for a month straight, going to voicemail. can you come home? did i do something wrong? please, sukuna, i'll be better. i'll never complain about anything ever again. i promise. just come back to me. you're all i want... you're all i have. i'll be whoever you want. whatever you want. please.

your gaze focuses on the café in front of you again. the couple isn't there anymore, and it makes you wonder how much time you spent out here, freezing. it looks like he made it, at the end. you ignore the poster with his company's name near the street you came from.

it happens randomly.

you put your feet one after the other, entering the café.

randomly.

#cw toxic relationship #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #jjk angst #jjk x you #jjk x yn #jjk x oc #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen angst

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citricacidprince · 6 months ago

Note

could you draw the courtroom scene with relativity falls? (mabels bubble)

Gladly!!! I’ve already brought up some Stan Weirdmageddon Bubble stuff here, but the equivalent of the Mabel Trial for Stan makes me wanna blow up I just adore it!!

Okay, so first things first, here’s Captain Stan’s design, my precious baby boy <3

Figured it’d be fun to mix some aspects of Grunkle Stan’s Mr. Mystery outfit with a pirate twist, just for fun!

As for the ‘trial’, its more of a argument between two boys who just WONT talk about their issues

Fiddleford, Boyish Dan, and Anjelita are also there, but Stan isn’t mad at them. In fact, he doesn’t even care that they’re breaking the rules by being there, he’s only mad at Ford. He’s mad that Ford was just going to leave him behind and send Stan back to New Jersey by himself while he stayed and studied with their Grunkle Dipper. Leaving Stan all by himself at home. Alone to deal with their father. Alone with no friends. Alone to be the family disappointment.

But no matter how mad he gets at Ford, Stan can’t ever say that he’s hates him, and Stan would give him a million chances to fix things. So, instead of immediately throwing Ford off the deck of his ship, he gives him an ultimatum. A very easy solution to all of this.

All Ford has to do is say that he’s sorry, and Stan would let him go. He won’t leave the bubble because he actually really likes it in there, but he’ll let Ford go.

This.. doesn’t end very well

Stan, absolutely heartbroken, decides to make his brother walk the plank. If he’s dead to Ford, well then Ford is dead to him as well.

However, right before his crew could push Ford into the water, something happened.

You see, when Stan unknowingly gave the rift to Bill he only had one wish. That he’d never be alone again. So when he first appeared in his bubble it was actually completely dark and empty, except for a small light glowing in his hands. It was a little version of Ford. He smiled and laughed just like he did when they were a bit younger, and he said everything Stan wanted to hear.

Very quickly Stan realized he could manipulate the bubble and create anything that he wanted, just like he could back in the Mindscape. So he created what he knew. Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. It was full of never ending boardwalks, houses and attractions with silly names, and that beach he loved so much. It didn’t take long after that to realize it was still quite lonely, even with Lil’ Ford (a name he lovingly gave the small version of his brother). However, he didn’t want the town to be full of faceless nobodies or people he actually knew, that’d be weird.

Then he had the genius idea to just fill the town with himself! After all, he never had to worry about himself betraying him or leaving him behind!

Soon the town was overrun with imperfect duplicates of himself and he couldn’t have been any happier.

However, the duplicates were so much like him that it soon made a new problem arise. They started asking about Ford. Like, ‘Where is he?’ ‘Can you make one?’ ‘I miss having him around.’

Stan did have Lil’ Ford hidden under his pirate hat, but he didn’t want to tell the other Stans that he was there. He didn’t know exactly why he kept Lil’ Ford hidden away. Probably a mixture of bitterness and anger still aimed at his real twin brother and a selfishness to keep Lil’ Ford to himself. So he just declared that Fords were banned altogether and left it at that.

This was a problem when right as Stanford was about to pushed off the plank, Lil’ Ford came out from under the Captain’s hat and told Stan to stop all of this.

The two bicker for a moment and some Stans ask who that is, causing Lil’ Ford to happily state that he’s Stanley’s brother, that the two are going to sail the world together, and that he loves Stan very dearly.

This doesn’t go over well with literally any of the Stan on board and it especially doesn’t go over well with Ford

The Stans pull a mutiny and try to kill Stan because they don’t think he should be Captain anymore and one of them should run the town instead.

Hard cut to Boyish Dan, Anjelita, Fiddleford, Ford, and Stan having a high speed boat chase with other Stans and popping the bubble while escaping. (I like to think Stan popped the bubble at the last second with the help of Shanklin <3 )

Stan is NOT happy about having to leave his Weirdmageddon bubble.

“You should have left me in there. I was HAPPY there.”

“Who cares if you were happy, you were living a lie! A sad delusion! You should be happy we pulled you out of there!”

Boyish Dan has it cut in before the two start fighting right then and there

Stan eventually calms down enough to decide that he’s going to save their Grunkle Dipper from Bill, but there is a thick tension between Stan and Ford that last until the huge blow out fight at the Cipher Wheel

A fight that started because Stan wanted Ford to finally say it.

‘I’m Sorry.’

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blackcoldcrackedheart · 6 months ago

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Bobby greeted Hen and Chimney with a hug, "Any updates?" He asked, knowing from their maudlin expressions that nothing had changed since early this morning.

They both shook their heads no. "Docs are hopeful he'll wake up, but they're worried about damage to his spine." Chimney said lowly, rubbing his jaw tiredly.

Bobby nodded sagely; he figured the damages would be serious. His breath had been knocked out of him when he saw the younger first responder had been impaled by a branch and his face had been cut up by glass. "Has the hospital been able to contact his family?"

Hen licked her lips, looking a bit teary as she and Chimney shared a sad look. "His cousin is on the way from San Francisco." She said tersely.

Bobby frowned at that, "That's it? What about his parents? Siblings?"

Chimney shrugged; his arms crossed defensively. "They stopped wanting anything to do with him, Bobby."

Bobby felt a rush of annoyance at that, he was ready to snap till he realized...

"Oh." He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Has Buck even left his side?"

It was Eddie who answered, coming up from behind Bobby with a carrier tray of hospital coffee. "Nope." Eddie sighed, "Hasn't left his side since they got him out of the OR."

Bobby checked his watch; Buck had been awake for more than 24 hours then. They were already doing a 48 and where in hour 40 when they received the call. Despite Bobby's orders, Buck rushed onto the scene.

Buck's yells had him nearly want to sedate Buck or hug him once they saw how hurt Tommy really was.

"He needs to get some rest." Bobby insisted, "Did he even eat?"

"We tried, he's not handling this well, Bobby." Hen confessed worriedly; her voice shaky as Eddie pulled her into a half hug.

Bobby swallowed audibly.

He knew his soft spot for Buck was obvious. He saw bits and pieces of himself in Buck, he saw a version of what Robert Jr could have been if he had lived.

He had never wanted this for Buck.

For Buck to go through the worse thing Bobby had ever gone through.

To see the man he thought of as a son sob and shout about saving the love of his life as they pulled Tommy away from the wreckage.

Barely breathing and bleeding and impaled.

"I'll talk to him." Bobby decided, feeling both uneasy and strained. He couldn't blame Buck for not wanting to leave Tommy's side.

But the kid had to take care of himself for Tommy's sake.

"I'll go with you Cap." Eddie nodded to Hen and Chim, a silent conversation going on between the three of them that Bobby wasn't privy to and was unsure if he wanted to know.

Bobby didn't know what to expect. He didn't think seeing Tommy hooked up to so many machines, his face littered with stitches and bruises, and his chest and arm wrapped in badges would break his heart like this.

Buck was pulled right up against Tommy's bed, back turned to the door and hunched over. Bobby could see that Buck was holding Tommy's hand in both of his, his eyes wet and face red. Still in his uniform and looking as disheveled as he did when they got to the hospital.

"Buck?"

Buck jumped in his seat, turning but not getting up- he still had one hand still holding Tommy's, he wiped his nose with the other as he sniffed. "Cap." He sounded so horse that Bobby winced. Before Bobby could say a word, Buck beat him to it.

"You're not gonna convince me to leave, so don't bother." He warned gruffly, wiping away some tears before turning back to Tommy.

"Buck, c'mon man, you can't-" Eddie had stated to say but Bobby rested a hand on his shoulder, a silent plea to stop.

Bobby stepped closer, "Buck, you haven't slept or eaten anything in over day, and you were already coming off a 48-hour shift when we got the call."

"So."

Bobby inhaled deeply, not missing how Buck held onto Tommy's hand tighter, his lips pressed right against Tommy's skin.

"So, you need to rest, maybe eat or at the very least shower." Bobby eyed what he hoped wasn't dirt and dried blood that looked to be caked onto Buck's uniform. "Tommy is alive and he's going to need you to be ready to take care of him when he wakes up, so you need to get ready."

Buck sniffed, his voice hollow and broken as he told Bobby, "I can't leave him Cap."

Bobby squeezed Buck's shoulder, "I know, but he would want you to be okay too." Bobby knew that to be true, Tommy would have wanted Buck to have at least shower and eat.

He knew how protective and doting the two were with each other.

"I'll be fine." Buck insisted, tears cascading down his face, "He needs me here."

Bobby pressed his lips tightly together; he saw Eddie look even more worried. They both knew what it felt like, to lose the love of your life. They knew how Buck would shatter if something bad happened and he couldn't be with Tommy.

It happened to them.

Bobby took a shallow breath; he knew it wasn’t going to be easy for Buck to leave without feeling guilty. "How about this, you let Eddie take you home so you can shower and nap, and I'll stay here. I won't leave his side till you return."

"Bobby-"

Bobby raised a finger at him, "Two hours. Just allow yourself two hours Buck."

Buck's voice sounded so broken as he asked, "What if he wakes up and I'm not here?"

"The moment Tommy's eyes open I'll tell him I sent you home, my orders." He saw the look of doubt on Buck's face, "Buck, Tommy knows you love him, he'll know that-"

He watched in horror as Buck crumble at that, "I never told him." Buck started to sob, alarming Bobby and Eddie now as they watched the younger man cry into his hands.

"What?"

"I never told him I love him. We never got that chance." Buck cried. "You can't ask me to leave Cap, please don't ask me to."

"Hey," Eddie's voice was soft as he patted Buck's back, "You and Tommy will get that chance Buck. He's gonna wake up and he's gonna need you and all of us, but Bobby's right- you can't keep going like this. He needs you to be okay."

Bobby kneeled down, he could see Buck's knee shaking, "Buck," he said slowly, "You have my word that the moment Tommy wakes up, I will call you. I'm not asking you to leave for the whole day, just two hours so that you can come back here with a clear head. Tommy's cousin is on his way here, he's gonna need your support as much as you're gonna need his. For Tommy's sake, kid, you need to be okay."

Buck looked like he was close to throwing up as he stood up, wobbling and barely getting caught by Bobby and Eddie in time. "O-Okay." Buck's voice was barely audible, Bobby couldn't take looking at him for too long- Buck’s blue eyes were blood shot and his skin was clammy to the touch. "You promise you won't leave him?" He asked Bobby.

Bobby felt his heart crack again as he was reminded about Robert Jr- how he would make Bobby promise he would come home in time for their favorite show.

"I promise kid." Bobby watched with bated breath as Buck finally stood on his own, still shaky as he pulled Bobby in for a tight hug.

Bobby held on tighter.

"Two hours?" Buck asked them both, looking and sounding uncertain- as though it was a trap.

"Two hours." Eddie promised, already leading Buck to the door since he was still unsteady. "I'll even warn you when the two hours is almost up, okay?"

That had Buck look mildly appeased, "Okay." He said roughly, wiping away more tears and snot. He was barely out the door when he turned around and leaned over Tommy, kissing him on his forehead and whispering something to him that neither Bobby or Eddie could hear.

Bobby sighed as he looked down as his former firefighter, taking a seat where Buck had been.

"Hey Tommy." Bobby took Tommy's hand in his, "You scared us out there, we thought we were going to lose you." Bobby had watched how terrified Hen and Chim were when they realized Tommy might have suffered spinal damage from the impact of the crash. How they hurried to stop the bleeding from Tommy's mouth and stomach where the branch had impaled him. "I need you to fight to come back to us, Tommy. You can't leave us yet. You can't leave Buck; I don't think he'll ever be okay if he loses you to tell you the truth. That kid has been looking for his other half for as long as he's been looking for a family. He has us and he needs you, we all do." He brushed away Tommy's curls from his forehead, "You have a family with us too, we need you. Not because you’re Buck's boyfriend, we just need you kid." He sighed, regretting the times in where didn't push for Tommy to open up to him.

He was just as guarded as Bobby was back then when they were both at the 118. But Bobby could see it, there was a level of uncertainness that Tommy had carried on his shoulder when he was with the 118. He figured it was guilt and something else, something that made Tommy seem closed off even when he was trying to relax during team dinners.

"Listen," Bobby pulled out his rosary and miniature Bible, "I know you don't consider yourself Catholic anymore, but praying is what I do for my family." He leaned back in the chair and started to pray.

#bucktommy #bobby and buck #bobby and tommy #118 firefam #tommy and eddie #tevan #buck and eddie #i had a triggering day at work so i had to write it out #so enjoy i guess

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ponderingmoonlight · 2 years ago

Text

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

Click here for your link to heaven (aka seperate Gojo Satoru Masterlist)

Dying ray of sunshine The year after the incident with Toji has put your longtime relationship with Suguru Geto to the test. But one fateful decicion will change everything forever.

Dying ray on sunshine pt. ll After searching for your former boyfriend Suguru for 10 years, he finally shows himself again at the Night Parade. You try your best to convince him back into your open arms, but it seems like the man you love is gone forever.

Us against the world Suguru and you are inseperable, like ying and yang long before the both of you joined Jujutsu High. Despite you are technically a non-jujutsu sorcerer, you made your way up with him always by your side. Until something changed. Until it wasn't "us against the world" anymore.

(y/n) gifting Geto sweets against the bad taste of curses Being used to the fact that nobody seems to care about how awful curses taste, Suguru Geto is absolutely blown away when you start noticing and bringing him candy after each and every mission.

Getting back home drunk after an argument with Suguru Geto You always supressed the pain in your heart when your boyfriend dumps you for his best friend again. Until one day you've had enough. Until you get uncontrollably drunk to forget your fight.

Geto encouraging you to eat more after growing up in a toxic household After your toxic parents tried to force you into their picture of a thin and docile wife, you left them as soon as possible and became the best version of yourself - if it wasn't for your bad eating habits still haunting you down when you're out with your boyfriend. Until he decides to have a talk with you...

Die with a smile Despite the dark part he has chosen, Suguru finds himself drawn back to you. In a rain-soaked encounter, both of you face the heartbreaking reality that love can't save him from the path of destruction he's committed to.

Geto being forced to kiss you during a mission but shamelessly making out with you instead It was an easy mission like many others before. Get in, find the suspect, free the innocent. Well, if it wasn't for none other than Geto Suguru who has to play your boyfriend. If it wasn't for that fateful situation that forces you into a heated kiss.

Should have told her While being secretely in love with you since joining Jujutsu High, Nanami never admitted his feelings to you. Only after you nearly die in a fight and are on the brink of death, he begins to realize how much you really mean to him

Don't be shy You are an outspoken, confident and skilled member of Jujutsu High. But when it comes to Nanami Kento, you suddendly become all flustered and shy. When you are set on a mission together he finally confronts you.

Whisper of the death With your character of pure gold, it isn't hard for Nanami to fall for you despite the fact that you are the little sister of his best friend. However, your world is turned upside down after both men return from their last mission...

Beautiful mistake You are in a secret but healthy relationship with none other than Nanami Kento despite being the sunshine to his rain. Until one day, you accidentaly spoil your secret to Gojo Satoru.

Nanami losing it completely when (y/n) gets severely injured at Shibuya After receiving a message with your location, Nanami rushes to your side, showing no mercy with the man who laid his hands on you.

Nanami hiding his scars from his girlfriend after surviving Shibuya no words needed

Nanami and Gojo's little sister meeting up again years after their ugly breakup It's been some hell of years since Nanami left Gojo's younger sister for another woman. But when her big brother invites her to Jujutsu HIgh again, things start to unveil...

Haruta seeking revenge on Nanami's heavy pregnant wife When Haruta hears about Nanami's wife, he is more than delighted to search and kill her. He didn't think about (y/n)'s very own abilities and her furious husband though.

Nanami fearing rejection from his wife and daughter after Shibuya left him seriously wounded Even though he survived Shibuya, Kento Nanami dies from the inside just by the thought of losing you and his precious little daughter due to his severe wounds and scarred skin. But despite his great fear, your reaction turns out completely different than expected.

Nanami's girlfriend watching him being in full dad-mode with Yuji After finally coming back home from a mission far away, all you want to do is seeing your precious boyfriend Kento again. But instead of a afternoon of cuddling him, you get to see him act like a real dad towards a new student.

Nanami's reaction to his daughter wearing a jumper saying "I love daddy" After the incidents of Shibuya and his wife getting severely injured, Nanami is relieved to know his new family safe and sound. A little suprise from his precious wife seems to be enough to make a grown man cry in joy though...

Kento Nanami and his wife losing their unborn child in Shibuya It seemed like a normal evening when you passed out on the couch, not aware of Haruta sneaking into your shared apartment until he pierces his blade through your pregnant stomach. How will your husband react, finding out what happened to you?

Nanami Kento raising his voice at you (apparentely yellow text is gone wtf) He had no other choice but to scream at you in the middle of a fight, snapping at you like he never did before. It took both of you a few weeks to realize that you can't be with each other...

In Quiet Understanding At a lively work party, you're cornered by the pressure to drink - a personal boundary you’re not ready to cross. Just as the moment becomes unbearable, Nanami steps in, quietly taking the shot for you. In his calm, understated way, he shows that sometimes the loudest support is silent.

Nanami realizing you're pregnant before you do

Caught Megumi knows it isn't allowed to visit you after curfew late at night, but the temptation is just too great. However, it is percisely this night that Gojo noticed the both of you and finds you in a rather unfavorable situation.

Luck in misfortune After you get seriously injured by a cursed and saved by Megumi, he begins to develop feelings for you he never imagined could exist.

The razor's edge The news that your boyfriend Megumi got badly injured on a mission makes you come to Jujutsu High immediately to stand by his side.

Opposites attract Megumi hated you the moment you stepped into Jujutsu High for the first time. As time flies, he always sees himself confronted with you on missions. However, one of these missions makes him rethink his feelings towards you

Save you After you recklessly risk your own life to save his, Megumi can't hold back his feelings any longer

Yuji's sunshine sister with grumpy Megumi Despite the fact that Megumi is the complete opposite of you, he can't help but secretely having a crush on you. It isn't until you get severely injured by Mahito that Megumi begins to realize it can't go on like this...

Gojo's little sister kissing her childhood crush Megumi for the first time at Shibuya Even though your brother told you over and over to stay away from Shibuya, you are on your way to save him when you fall into the open arms of Megumi. Is this the right time to finally confess your feelings to your childhood crush?

Getting lost at a haunted house only to get saved by Megumi Fushiguro After your friends dragged you into a tunnel of terror at an amusement park despite your irrational fear of creepy stuff, you find yourself lost in your own panic. Until a sudden blue-eyed boy appears and helps you out...

Megumi losing his will to carry on until (y/n) shows up Megumi can't take it anymore. All the death, the grief, the misery he caused. He'll never forgive himself for losing you...But are you really dead?

Keeping your relationship with Megumi a secret until you can't anymore Megumi Fushiguro’s secret relationship with you has been going smoothly—until his friends start noticing his odd behavior. Yuji and Nobara grow suspicious, launching a hilariously relentless mission to uncover what he’s hiding, while Gojo sits back, amused by the chaos. Will the two of you finally confess?

I told you to stay When finding out your boyfriend of a year, Toji, secretly has a whole family behind your back, you decide to leave him. Of course, he won't allow that so easily.

Toji Fushiguro coming back to live to save (y/n) at Shibuya No words needed

Geto's little sister melting like butter in Toji's hands When your brother and Satoru arrive at Jujutsu High with the star plasma vessel, things start to get heated. But instead of running away like you're told to, you follow your brother. Only to be alone with a certain someone...

Choso with injured (y/n) who has blood phobia no words needed

Gojo's little sister seducing Choso at Shibuya no words needed

Gojo's little sister seducing Choso at Shibuya pt. ll After getting back on track of saving her big brother, (y/n) catches Mahito's attention. Choso has to decide if he continues searching for Yuji or rushed to her aid before she gets killed.

Teaching Choso about Christmas and kissing under the mistletoe Even though Choso thinks he's seen it all by now, the idea of Christmas just doesn't reach him until you show him the tradition of kissing underneath a mistletoe...

Choso realizing what love is when you almost sacrifice your life to save his It was always a mystery to Choso Kamo, the way human emotions seem to work. But when you yank yourself right into Uraume's attack in order to save him, he slowly but surely begins to understand.

Choso getting hopelessly seduced by another blood manipulator It seemed so easy at first: find Itadori Yuji, kill him, take revenge. Only until you showed up and captivated Choso Kamo, only until you showed him what you can...

Megumi's little sister falling head over heels for Yuji (and maybe Sukuna?) pt. l After being set on a mission with your crush Yuji, your big brother and Nobara, things don't go as planned as all and force Yuji to sacrifice himself before you have the chance to tell him how you feel. Until Sukuna appears...

Sukuna coming for Megumi's little sister at Shibuya (pt. ll) After the incident of Yuji almost losing his life and Megumi's little sister confessing her feelings to him, they finally live in peace. But then Shibuya comes around as well as suppressed Sukuna who takes interest in you...

Sukuna coming for Megumi's little sister at Shibuya (pt. lll) After promising Sukuna to do everything he wants in exchange for him sparing your friends, you find yourself in a bitter fight with Jogo. While you feel like dying, Sukuna enjoys teasing the hell out of you...

Sukuna coming for Megumi's little sister at Shibuya (pt. lV) Sukuna enjoys every second with you by his side. But when Yuji slowly but surely begins to fight back, Sukuna has to act quickly. A sweet innocent kiss before he has to go, before Yuji Itadori gains back his body...

(y/n)'s deal with the devil to save Nobara's life (pt. V) You've been through so much at Shibuya, seeing the love of you get taken over by Sukuna and finally getting him back. But this time, it will be you who begs on her knees for the king of curses to arrive in order to save your best friend's life...

You being made from Yuji's and Megumi's big booty dreams Personality counts, but a big ass does as well

Telling Sukuna you're pregnant after not seeing him for 500 years For more than 1.500 years, you found yourself in a love and hate relationship with none other than Ryomen Sukuna. But when he began to ignore you for more than 500 years, you decide to bind him to you forever - with the help of a pregnancy that shouldn't be possible...

Part 2 After dropping the bomb of getting yourself pregnant from him despite not seeing each other for 500 years, Sukuna can't contain his temper. But you're too strong, you are too hot to resist you any longer...

Yuji taking you on an ice-skating date You never went ice-skating in your entire life, but when Yuji asks you out...Who are you to say no to your secret crush?

Sukuna comforting you after a breakup short lil comfort for whoever needs it

Ryomen Sukuna getting on his knees for his wife For more than 500 years, you waited for your husband's return. When he finally shows himself again in Shibuya, he can't help but worship his wife the way she deserves it

Being held hostage by Ryomen Sukuna How you ended up in Sukuna's prison instead of getting killed in an instant? You don't know. What you do know however that the king of curse has more to offer than what you ever imagined...

Darlin', can I be your favorite? In a world full of death and tortue, wouldn't it be the easiest to seduce a man who is able to protect you at any cost? Ryomen Sukuna definetely is exactly that. Now, the seduction part...

Sukuna pretending he's Yuji to catch a taste of you What you expected after finally meeting your boyfriend after losing him in Shibuya? Definitely not the king of curses trying to kiss you.

Sweet Affection Until he met you, Sukuna never believed in something as worthless as love and affection. But when you treated him like no one ever did before, when you showed him what affection might look like, he tumbles...

Wicked games From the second Ryomen Sukuna appears on the surface on earth again, you are bound to each other. Until the Shibuya accident. Until Sukuna gets confronted with the fear of losing you first-hand.

Daring Sukuna and getting what you wished for 18+ What's even more stupid than encountering Ryomen Sukuna by accident? Betting with Yuji that you'll touch his soul on your own. Setting him free. Getting pleasured by him like never before.

Yuta going nuts when finding out you've got severely injured at Shibuya When the news of Shibuya begin to flood in, Yuta almost loses his mind over you. Without thinking twice he pays you, the secret love of his life, a visit.

We're just friends...right? You told it yourself over and over while you whimpered against his neck. You are nothing but friends, no one has to know about him and you. Until Yuta ignores your presence the next day, until you realize that you don't want him like a best friend...

Yuta saving your ass in Shibuya You have enough. After fighting for multiple hours in Shibuya, you are the brink of giving up your life, of giving up the pondering about a future with Yuta. Little do you know he's already on his way to Shibuya...

Comforting Toge Inumaki after he lost his arm in Shibuya yup that's basically it

How JJK men react to other girls flirting with them/reader getting insulted ft. Gojo, Megumi and Yuta

JJK men sharing a bed with reader ft. Megumi, Nanami and Yuta

JJK men sharing a bed with reader part lll ft. Toji, Geto, Haibara and Choso

How JJK men act when they're jealous ft. Megumi and Gojo

JJK men turning the usual confident reader shy ft. Yuta, Geto and Megumi

Shibuya arc scenarios that live in my head rent free part l ft. getting sealed along with Gojo, Geto awakening by the sound of your voice

How JJK men react when (y/n) gets injured ft. Nanami, Megumi, Toji and Geto

JJK men in and after a fight ft. Goto, Megumi and Nanami

JJK men in and after a fight pt. ll ft. Geto, Choso and Yuji

JJK men with drunk reader ft. Choso and Nanami

JJK men with drunk reader pt. ll ft. Geto, Megumi and Gojo

JJK men meeting you for the first time (aka Megumi catching you buying condoms) ft. Gojo, Nanami and Megumi

JJK men after hurting (y/n) ft. Choso and Gojo

How JJK men react when you fall asleep on top of them ft. Nanami, Gojo and Inumaki

How JJK men react to different insecurities Part 1 ft. Nanami (gn!reader's facial scars), Megumi (fem!reader with small breasts) and Sukuna (gn!reader with acne)

How JJK men react to different insecurities Part 2 ft. Nanami (reader doesn't want kids), Gojo (reader who gained weight), Megumi (reader with hooked nose)

How JJK men react to different insecurities Part 3 ft. Nanami (overweight reader), Choso (reader with big breasts), Yuji/Todo (tall/curvy reader)

How JJK men act when you can't sleep ft. Gojo, Inumaki and Megumi

JJK men with a small-chested reader ft. Toji, Gojo, Choso, Nanami, Sukuna and Geto

JJK men with a big-chested reader ft. Nanami, Geto, Yuji/Sukuna and Gojo

Stitching JJK men up or at least trying to ft. Gojo, Toji and Yuta

Doing the ribbon around biceps trend with JJK men ft. Gojo, Nanami, Toji and Sukuna

Making JJK men realize what love is ft. Geto, Sukuna and Toji

Seeing JJK men shirtless for the first time ft. trueform! Sukuna, Nanami, Choso, Gojo and Geto, Ino, Toji and Ijichi

Getting caught while making out with JJK men ft. Geto, Gojo and Nanami

Slow kissing turning into aggressively making out with JJK men ft. Gojo, Sukuna and Toji

Meeting your ex jjk boyfriend again after your breakup ft. Gojo and Toji

JJK men when you go into labor ft. Toji, Geto, Gojo and Sukuna

JJK men pretending to date you to get rid of unwanted attention ft. Geto, Megumi, Choso and Gojo

How JJK men react to seeing you in their clothes ft. Gojo, Megumi, Yuta and Nanami

Going to "your spot" after the breakup and finding your ex jjk men there ft. Gojo, Geto, Megumi and Yuji/Sukuna

Click here for a full list of shorts and drabbles!

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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 9 months ago

Note

hihihi!!!! i loveee the way u write angst!!!! could i please request a reader taking a fatal blow for jason? like some self sacrifice where reader protects jay? ahhh i just imagine the desperation and him running himself ragged to save reader before it ends with comfort!! thanks soso much! i hope u have a great week🩷

Set In Place

Hi, nonnie! Thank you, hope you enjoy! ~1.7k words

Slight miscommunication, but it's in the way they don't know how to talk to each other about feelings.

You weren't always a vigilante. You never planned on it, never wanted it. But when Jason Todd died you couldn't sit still, couldn't do nothing while the monsters that caused you to lose your best friend, your boyfriend, your first love, ran rampant.

You trained and trained until you were a shell of yourself. Until you and Bruce were both on a warpath that would only end with two more graves.

That was, until Tim came into your lives. Things got better, not much, but better. You learned to smile again, learned to soften your edges when you talked to the growing number of vigilantes patrolling Gotham's streets.

It scared you, sometimes, seeing kids no older than him fly around in the colors he died in. So you worked harder, got better, swore with everything you were and wouldn't be again that there will never be another dead Robin.

And then he came back. Jason– Red Hood, he called himself. It sends your world into a tailspin. You watch him become Gotham's most feared crime lord, you watch him leave all of that behind to become a hero. You watch as he slowly finds his place alongside his family.

You're just not exactly sure of what his place with you is. You patrol with him, you work with him. It's an awkward, unpracticed partnership, and you're sure he feels the same. You've told Bruce you don't want to work with Jason time and time again.

It's not that you don't miss him, don't feel envy at how easily he seemed to fall back into a routine with everyone else, it's just hard.

Hard when you catch him staring.

You know you must be unrecognizable to him, no longer the younger, civilian version of you. Hardened by the horrors of Gotham, scarred and calloused hands where skin used to be soft.

Bruce apparently didn't care about your complaints, because you find yourself on patrol with Red Hood more often than not. It's the same tonight, the two of you paired up to stake out some warehouse expecting a gun shipment for Falcone.

You can't help but watch him from the corner of your eye, he's different too, now. Bigger, sturdier, and willing to kill. A part of you wishes you had the courage to tell him that it doesn't make you hate him. That you miss him, and that nothing can change that part of your heart that's always been his.

You're tugged from your own thoughts when you see the familiar glint of a sniper rifle across the street. Your heart skips a beat and you're moving before you've even really connected that there's a gun.

You slam into Jason, a shot is fired. Pain blooms in your side as you both hit the ground.

Everything was different when Jason came back. It took a long time to settle, to try to find himself, to try to find his place in a family he doesn't know, a Gotham that's not quite what he remembers.

But he adapted, he carved out a place for himself that's undeniably his. He's really only left with one uncertainty, one place he doesn't know how to fit into.

You. His best friend, his childhood sweetheart, his first love. You're different now, but he is too, and he wants that to be okay.

Jason just doesn't know how to get to okay. He catches you watching him, he wonders what you see now. If you recognize the boy he used to be in what he is now. He can't help but watch you too. You're strong, brave, selfless and so, so beautiful. He's amazed about how much you've accomplished, how many lives you saved.

It's why he keeps telling Bruce to put him on patrol with you. It's worth the looks he gets if it means a chance to talk to you. He's currently trying to figure out the best way to get your attention during this boring stakeout. Should he ask what you've been up to? No, too general. If you're liking the weather? Ha, no. It's Gotham, that's stupid. The weather is bad.

If you have a partner? Oh, he definitely doesn't want to know that answer right now. He'd very much just like to be able to talk to you first.

Did you miss him as much as he missed you? Do you still love him like he still loves you?

He opens his mouth to speak, not having a plan but anything is better than silence, when you slam into him, crashing you both to the ground. The air leaves his lungs when he makes contact with the concrete, instinctively wrapping an arm around your waist and cradling your head to cushion the fall.

"Hey, what–" He starts, voice failing when wetness starts to seep into his gloves. You're bleeding. You're bleeding. You're shot. You're hurt because you saved him.

He's only able to react on the years of skill and training ingrained into his bones. Get you off of him and on the ground. Remove armor. Pressure on the wound. Where's the shooter? His eyes dart, he doesn't see anyone. Doesn't see who did this to you.

"Oracle," he chokes out "They're hurt, gun shot. It's bad. I need- we need an evac." He's tugging off his jacket, more material to slow the blood flow, something to keep you warm.

"Hey," You're reaching up to touch his arm with shaky hands, you sound relieved, "You're okay."

He tears up behind his helmet. It's not fair, not right that you're trying to comfort him when you're bleeding out on some forsaken Gotham rooftop. He vaguely hears the voices coming through the comlink, that help is coming, that he needs to tell them what's going on.

But, he can't respond to them, too focused on you, the way you seem to be getting weaker with each passing second. He's panicking, his breathing is shallow and fast as he tries to keep you alive.

"Why did you do that? Why did you do that?" He asks, trying to keep it together, but it's impossible when all he wants to do is scream and cry and hunt down whoever shot you.

You just offer a frail smile. "Glad you're safe, Jason," You murmur, words getting more slurred and quiet with each passing moment. He checks your pulse. It's getting too slow.

"Stay awake, stay with me," He begs, words fraying as he sobs your name, "please."

Something touches his shoulder, he has his gun pulled and pointed before he bothers to see who it is, face curled into a snarl behind his helmet.

"Woah there, Jason." Nightwing. His hands are raised, "we're going to help them, okay?"

Batman sweeps past him, crouching down at your side to pick you up. Jason launches forward, panicked and unable to think straight as he barks, "Don't touch them!"

Nightwing hauls him back as Batman carries them, his person, to the plane. "No, no, no, please. I need to be there. I need to. It's my fault!"

"I know, I know, it's not your fault, we're going too. C'mon." Nightwing soothes, letting go of him. Jason's on Batman's heels immediately, gaze locked on you, how your eyes keep sliding shut.

"The shooter–" He starts, anger building behind the guilt and panic.

"Spoiler and Robin have it handled." Batman tells him. Jason nods weakly and when Batman carefully sets you down in the plane, he takes your hand. Nightwing starts working over your wound, you barely make a sound in reaction to the pain.

"Stay awake. Don't go." He murmurs, begging, as he squeezes your fingers. He nearly sobs again when you offer him a feeble one in return.

Everything hurts. Which makes sense, you did get shot. It doesn't really bother you, at least not right now, not when Jason's holding your hand, his fingers resting over the steady beat of your pulse on your wrist.

You're not exactly sure how long you were passed out, but it was long enough that they got you into the medbay in the Batcave, stitched you up, and got you into a bed. Long enough that Jason's fallen asleep in the chair next to your bed, his head resting on top of the sheets by your hip.

You only hesitate for a second before reaching over to brush his hair back with your free hand. He's pretty when he's sleeping, but then again he's always pretty.

His eyes snap open and you draw your hand back. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up, Jason."

He sits up quickly, eyes darting over you, "Don't be. Are you okay? How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?" He hasn't let go of your hand.

"I'm okay." You promise, because you are. He didn't get hurt. He's here, and that makes everything okay.

He exhales shakily, studying you, "You shouldn't have done that."

You shrug, "Maybe, but you would have done the same thing." You know it's the truth, even if what's between you isn't the same, he's good. Always so good.

He frowns and runs his thumb over your knuckles, lost in thought, he can’t find the words to refute you, to make you understand what you did was wrong. "Do you– can I get you anything?"

You smile at him, teasing, trying to lighten the look on his face, "What? You gonna be my personal maid till I can get outta bed?"

You're surprised at how earnestly he nods, "Yeah, of course. Whatever you need, just let me know."

You blink at him and take a risk, "Maybe you could keep me company for a while? Not much to do in medbay," You ask tentatively, unable to ignore a real chance at being something– anything– with him.

Warmth blooms in your chest at the way he smiles at your question. It surprises you again, how thrilled your question seems to make him.

If you only knew what he was thinking now, how much he's been trying to find this moment that brings you two back into each other's lives, and the guilt he feels that it took you getting hurt to find it. "I'd like that," he tells you.

You squeeze his hand, and he looks down, as if he forgot he was even holding it. It feels right, familiar, something that used to be found again.

"I'd like that too." You say softly. It makes the two of you grin like two idiots in love.

You'll both figure out you are, eventually, but in this tender moment, it's a sweet solace to have found a place next to each other again.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x reader

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mellosdrawings · 26 days ago

Note

I'd like to hear more about Holden! Especially what his dynamic is with the Octavinelle trio and Noah, because y'know, pirate and merfolk, lots of fun there XD Captain Hook is like the Disney villain that I most want to see a twisted version of in game, so I always get excited when I see OCs of Hook

Oh, Holden. What a mess of a person he ended up being. I didn't expect him to end up being one of those with the most trauma. And I dunno if he's really what you'd expect considering I went a... certain way with him ^^'

Holden Jameson

[redacted age], 2nd year

Heartslabyul

Human from the Shaftlands

He/him

Boardgame club

Based on Captain Hook

Signature Spell: A Happy Little Thought

-this is a time spell that only works on his own body

-it allows him to revert back to a child or to age into an old man, and anything in between

-it technically allows him to heal faster, but should he become younger again there is a very real risk of landing on a time he was wounded if the wound was consequent enough

-should anything happen to a certain limb *wink wink* at a certain point in the past *wink* then reverting back to an age prior to it will give his limb back, but reaching the time he lost said limb and further will automatically make it disappear

-he cannot chose one body part to use his UM on, it only works on his whole body

Real life Peter Pan Syndrome

When he was 5, Holden was “kidnapped” by mischievous children faes. He lived among them for ten years before his sudden growth made the faes ostracize him. They abandoned him in a crocodiles’ pit and left him for dead. When Holden found his way back home, he had not aged a second despite everybody around him being ten years older than when he left.

This happened [redacted] years ago. Holden has since been stuck in a loop of his own making, inadvertently reverting to a child whenever he threatens to turn into an adult. This cycle has already happened at least [redacted] times. Holden's own mental age oscillates anywhere between 5, 15, 25, and 40 years old depending on his stability, and his physical body does not always reflect his mental age.

His mother enabled him too. Traumatized from having lost her child so young, she never questioned how he could be back looking exactly the same as when she lost him, raising him as she should have done all those years back. When he regressed for the first time, she went along with it and simply raised him all over again, feeding into this cycle. It only ended when she died of old age.

A proper gentleman who follows the rules

If one could claim the Queen of Hearts’ throne in Riddle’s place, it would be Holden. Ever since he lost his arm, he has been following a very detailed schedule to the letter and has considered rules as most sacred. Missing an appointment makes him meltdown, breaking a rule angers him. He is very picky on every single detail. While he doesn't hold others to the same level of perfectionism he holds himself to, he does get annoyed when others outright disregard common courtesy and he will take matter in his own hand(s) when big transgressions happen.

Tick-tock

Despite Holden’s obsession with proper schedule, he has a huge phobia of analog clocks. The mere sound of one is enough to have him panic into uselessness. He also has a phobia of scaly creatures, mostly crocodiles, and a near phobic approach to neatness and germs.

Faes

His past experiences with faes make him especially scathing towards any he meets, and the Diasomnia crew gets it the worst. Malleus constantly missing appointments and being unable to keep track of time especially gets on Holden's nerves. He also has a very hard time with Sebek who leans hard into his fae legacy and has enough crocodile elements to himself to make Holden uneasy.

Prosthetic

The day Holden loses his hand is the day his time loop inadvertently resets. After a... forceful wake-up call, he ended up getting a prosthetic in replacement. Holden absolutely despises it and tends to hide his hand under gloves or behind his back.

Sea and merfolk

Holden's father was a renown sea captain and has brought him on his adventures many times when Holden's mother calmed down enough to let him out of his sight. While everything else in Holden's life is the way it is out of necessity or propriety (or fear), ships and the sea are the one things Holden genuinely loves and actively attempts to learn more about. He knows how to pilot ships, know sea roads by heart, and has a very wide understanding of marine life. Contrary to his hatred for faes, Holden is always ready to hear more about merfolks. He still has a bit of a hard time with Noah and Floyd because of how carefree they are, but Jade's decorum and Azul's capacity to bend the rules without ever breaking them have all his attention.

Random facts:

-he's OCD. Completely.

-like, he's just anxious 24/7, his calm facade is just too good for people to realize

-he's a viscount from his mother's side

-he has many fencing medals and regularly trains with Silver

-he is rather sympathetic with Silver's situation but is completely baffled that Silver loves his fae entourage so much

-when he's panicking, he picks at his hair and scalp to the point he nearly tears chunks of hair off

-he is surprisingly good at sewing

-one of his (many) contradictory behaviors is that he both hates and loves cacophony

-he is VERY critical of childish behaviors

-he would be completely lost without his aide, Simon

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hxlxnaaa · 2 months ago

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hi hiiiii I’m not too sure if you’re taking requests for Caleb yet!! If you are could we please get a fluffy fic of him and us just cuddling and him being absolutely head over heels!! (If you don’t thank you for your consideration anyway 💜)

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

★ 𝐚/𝐧: ty for the request anon, i have desperately been wanting to write for caleb but have had 0 inspo for him LOL. sorry this is so short and not a full length fic, plus it took so long :,( uni is kicking my BUTT rn. nonetheless i hope (and pray) you enjoy!! <3333

You were back in his arms, and there wasn’t anything more in the world Caleb could ever think to ask for.

It wasn’t the first time you had situated yourself there, nestled against his chest and weaved into his heart. Growing up, you two found yourselves entangled in each other's limbs more often than not. A nightmare, a bad day - one another’s arms were a safe haven from the cruel, destructive world that lurked outside, offering a sanctuary no words could ever quite replicate.

Though you were older now, and as much as Caleb would hate to admit it, so much more grown. Of course, you were still the girl he always knew, yet over the course of time, you had developed the mental strength of a thousand soldiers; built a determination and power more vigorous than he had ever seen. The softness of childhood had been replaced with resilience, sharpened by experience. Your body was just as strong, no doubt from tearing through countless wanderers like butter. Firm against his, no longer small and delicate.

You weren’t the little girl that would cry in his arms during thunderstorms anymore, afraid of the dark, crawling into his blankets with him for comfort. When did you grow so much? Had he simply failed to notice, or had he been too afraid to acknowledge the inevitable? As much as Caleb tried to convince himself otherwise, he knew the truth; you didn’t need him to protect you anymore. But in this moment, with your weight pressed against him, he could pretend. Just for a little while longer, he could hold on to the illusion that you were still safe in his arms, that he was still needed in your life.

There was always something there between you two, Caleb would be stupid to deny it. Or maybe he’d made it all up in his head - unspoken words, stolen glances, moments that lasted just a little longer than necessary. The way you’d turn to one another after every joke, the shared secret language of sighs and stares, fingers interlacing after high-fives as if they were meant to fit together.

He’d scare off the boys at school who tried to pursue you, never leaving your side so they’d know exactly who you belonged to. He noticed how you’d cling to his arm wherever you went, pressing soft kisses against his cheek, wearing his clothes like a second skin. In a crowded room, you always found each other, always sat a little closer than necessary, always gravitated toward one another like celestial bodies caught in each other’s orbit. There was never a need to say it outright, everyone knew. The two of you left a mark, staking an unspoken claim on one another.

‘Mine.’

But you were younger then, just kids who swore you were really good friends. It made sense, you had grown up together; shared dinners at night, shared a bed, shared your lives. It wasn’t surprising that you had such a hold on each other, that you were so effortlessly intertwined. The thought of spending the rest of your lives together was not unheard of, but spending it together? That was different.

That was something neither of you dared to say aloud, something that hovered between you like a breath waiting to be exhaled. The idea seemed forbidden, it seemed wrong.

Though, despite the taboo of it all, Caleb still loved you. He loved you before he even knew what love was, before he even knew your name. He loved you through every version of yourself, through all the times you’d forget him. But it didn’t matter, because no matter what, he knew your soul as intricately as he knew his own.

The movie playing in the background had just become noise in his ears, the plot lost entirely to the rhythm of your breathing, the way your fingers idly toyed with the chain around his neck.

“Are you even watching?” Your voice was quiet, fingertips brushing against the cool metal, eyes peering up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah.” His response was soft, unsure. Because how could he focus on anything else when you were here, pressed against him, looking at him like that?

For a fleeting second, it didn’t matter what was right or wrong, what was forbidden or accepted. He wondered what your lips would feel like against his, if they would be just as soft as they were against his cheek, just as gentle as they were against his forehead. He thought about your hands threading through his hair, about how they left burning traces on his skin, branding him with every touch; and you were. He was absolutely, irrevocably yours.

Caleb wanted to lean down and kiss every inch of your face, to pull you in so close that there would be no space left between you, no room for doubt, no fear of separation. He wanted to cross the line that you both had danced on for so many years.

No, he’d leave that to you.

Let you call the shots, make the final decision, decide where the boundaries would lie. Because Caleb would, in the end, be whatever you wanted him to be. Whether that was your best friend, your lover, something entirely else, or just Caleb. Because he loved you, and he was yours; and he understood, without words, without hesitation, that you were his too.

#caleb x reader #caleb x you #caleb x y/n #love and deepspace caleb #caleb #l&ds caleb #lnds caleb #lads caleb #lnds #lnds fluff #lnds angst #caleb love and deepspace #caleb fluff #caleb x mc #love and deep space #hxlxnaaawrites

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cognitiveleague · 4 months ago

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Something I really enjoy about the Dressrosa arc is the narrative comparison and contrast presented between Law and Doflamingo.

Oda, especially post-timeskip, devotes a lot of storytelling to looking closely at protagonists and villains alike, asking the audience to join him in exploring questions of “what made them like this?” and “does it matter what drove them, at the end of the day?”

And Dressrosa is one of the places where those questions hit the hardest for me, because one after the other, he shows us two children — both having experienced a fall from (different degrees of) privilege and into incredibly traumatic situations at a young age, both victimized for things they had no means of controlling as children. Law and Doflamingo are both shown as being radicalized by that trauma and loss of control, rejecting the gentler values their parents tried to instill in them because they reached a point of not being able to see a point in compassion, or hope for any justice but revenge.

In the present, Doflamingo hasn’t really known for a very long time who Law truly is, but in a sense, he wasn’t wrong when he saw himself in the way a younger Law reacted to the loss of his former life by wanting to lash out at the world. In that moment, there was something in Law that DID reflect his own wounded inner child’s rage, and in a strange way, he clung to the connection he felt with that worst possible version of Law long after Law had discarded it and moved on.

The question implied there is “what made them different in the end? What redeemed Law, and what (if anything) pushed Doflamingo past the point of redemption?”

While the second question (as is often the case) is up to a lot of interpretation, the answer (as with Big Mom in the following arc) seems to me to lean toward “while his choices were his own and he ultimately has responsibility for them, it’s also true that when he was young and vulnerable and poised to go down a path of destruction for himself and everyone around him, the adults in his life used his brokenness to their own selfish advantage, encouraging him along that path instead of teaching him better; whether or not it absolves him of ANYTHING at this point (and it certainly doesn’t absolve him of EVERYTHING), there is a tragedy in the fact that we will never see who he might have been if he wasn’t encouraged and enabled to embrace his worst impulses.”

That tragedy is a core part of Corazón’s story — Corazón’s big brother who never grew past fear and rage and clinging to the selfish comfort of the memory of how easy their past life of privilege had been, who thought he loved him on some level, and who on another level probably knew he never developed the capacity to truly love anyone but himself. I think it’s probably why Corazón didn’t pull the trigger fast enough, when it came down to it — even after seeing what a monster his brother had become, even after dedicating his whole adult life to stopping him from hurting even more people, part of him still remembered the wounded, frightened child in his big brother, and the times he’d tried in his selfish way to protect him. Something in him still had sympathy for that child, and wanted, if not to believe, then at least to hope (even against all evidence) that enough of him was still in there that HE wouldn’t pull the trigger without hesitation, either.

We know how that story ended. It was far too late for his kindness to save Doffy by then, if it had ever been possible — there might have been something left in him that could feel something akin to regret over killing Corazón after the fact, or at least greedily resent the loss of him, but if there was, it wasn’t able to stop him.

But in the end, Corazón’s kindness — his compassion, his determination to believe that even a deeply wounded, deeply flawed world was worth placing his hope in and fighting for, his unrelenting love — was worth it, because it saved Law. It was enough to save the bitter, broken child Doffy saw so much of himself in.

Corazón took Law away from the adults who would have enabled him the way Doffy was enabled at his age, and put in the hard work of showing him, day after day, that while his pain was worth acknowledging and sympathizing with, he was worth more than just revenge — he was worth love, and healing, and the fight for a world better than the one that had hurt him so badly. He taught him not a naïve hope like the one the adults in Flevance had tried to give him, but a stubborn, bitter hope, one that laughed and spat a bloody declaration of victory right in the face of the enemy even when their backs were to the wall, hope with its teeth bared in defiance of a world that Law already knew to be unjust and pitiless.

That is what made Law’s story end differently than Doflamingo’s, and how we ended up with the version of Law that we and the Strawhats get to know - a man determined to trudge on, in spite of his own pain and disillusionment, as the bearer of lights that would otherwise be lost, those left in his hands by people he saw (still sees) as having been kinder, gentler, more deserving than he was of survival. A man who covered his body with reminders of the love that dragged him kicking and screaming into the light when he’d given his own heart up for lost, who named his crew in honor of that love, who devoted the rest of his life to making sure that love and that sacrifice mattered. A man all too familiar with his own worst impulses, who struggles to see or to trust in his own kindness, but who has chosen to be a defender like Corazón was to him, to be a healer like his birth parents were to those around them, to be not a tyrant like his former mentor, but a leader who loves and respects the people who follow him, and who is genuinely cared for by them in return.

And, despite his own misgivings, despite not being someone who reads to strangers as warm or caring, he is kind. He has chosen, through the love that was shown to him, to be a genuinely good man — faithful and just to his friends and allies and those he’s seen wronged in front of him, unwilling to demand sacrifices of others that he wouldn’t give of himself, determined to fight back against the ugliness and apathy and cruelty of the world, to wrest every bit of hard-fought justice he can from life not only for himself, but for others who have been crushed down by life.

It’s thematically fitting that he specializes in surgery, even completely aside from how suited his power is for it. As a character, his narrative is fundamentally about having chosen to become someone who can offer the world a surgeon’s sort of kindness —not warmth or softness, usually, but the mercy of a sharp, careful blade, a steady hand, and a clear understanding that sometimes, you have to roll up your sleeves and do the ugly, messy work of cutting away what’s too damaged to save before the healing can begin.

#one piece #one piece meta #long post #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #character study #i just think he’s neat.jpg #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote rosinante #one piece corazon #dressrosa #dressrosa arc

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apple-onigiri · 2 months ago

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oo what were those thoughts on isabeau's change? sounds spicy

ahhh thank you so much for asking!! i'm excited to talk about this :D (hopefully in A Few Hundred Less Words than the siffrin/loop self-love and self-hatred dichotomy ask hjdsjh)

i feel like i need to preface this by saying i mean more the Change in personality isabeau went through here rather than any physical changes that would amount to transition in our terms! so any changes that were more physical will be discussed as something that was meant to drive home the change in his personality more than anything. okay? okay!

we get a lot of details about how some part of Change is destruction - in the kitchen on the first floor when getting the egg key and both during isa's regular friendquest and its mangled version from act 5.

this is what we learn when we ask about the egg key in the kitchen. while some of mirabelle's seeming uncertainty here might be stemming from her own hang-ups about changing (since she likes who she is and doesn't want to change anything about herself), she acknowledges that an important part of the Change belief is leaving things behind and breaking something to create something new. as fitting of a housemaiden! she explains thought and caution is needed, that you have to consider all the consequences of such an act first.

however, isa seems even more enthusiastic about the idea of leaving things behind and destroying what's left, no matter the cost. there's some pride in his own Change, yes, but it almost veers into the area of overcompensation.

later on, during his friendquest, he talks about his Change, and how he did an almost complete 180 in personality because he was tired of being shy and afraid.

which, on one hand, seems to be something he sorely needed! a boost of confidence, becoming someone he thought would help his younger self come out of their shell. he put a lot of effort into becoming someone else. and he was ready to commit to that capital-C Change. he trained a lot to play the part (put a pin in that turn of phrase) of a strong, buff guy that he wanted to be and everything! but the way he talked about it... seemed a bit disquieting to me from the very beginning.

isa seems to talk about his old self that way not because he wants to cement he's a new person but to seemingly almost express some contempt to them with it. he never truly learned how to appreciate that version of himself and just discarded it whole cloth, to the point of pretending he's not smart at all and way stupider than he actually is, because it's easier to distance yourself from everything that used to make you you. at multiple points of the story, we see the party being taken back by the fact that isa is knowledgeable on something. siffrin only notices after being told this and then looking out for it.

(cut here because, despite my best efforts, this got long)

there's something siffrin thinks in act 4 during isa's quest when isa talks about changing again because who he is now also doesn't seem quite right that's pretty poignant to this whole thing.

despite the drastic Change isabeau went through, he still thinks of himself as someone you'd be ashamed of knowing. he still doesn't like himself! he still feels unhappy with who he is! and that's sad!

the issue here is that isa's Change was motivated externally; he seems to have focused on how people would react to him rather than how he himself would feel in his own skin. him and siffrin aren't dissimilar - both of them pretend to act in ways that keep others content because that specific behavior is expected from them and the persona they take up. there's a heartbreaking fragment of the quest in act 4 that i myself missed in my playthrough because the bad touch event overrides it that tells us how siffrin took up most of his personality as a "funnyjokespun person" only after meeting the party and couldn't really describe it beforehand.

war and hatred on planet earth! this is very much a takes one to know one situation which is why when siffrin attacks isa in act 5, it cuts so deep.

okay. the worst part of that exchange in act 5 is,,, that siffrin hits where it hurts because they don't make anything up. they aim to be hurtful and insulting, yes, and they project the hell onto isa but only with the aspects that have some overlay between them. they're both scared of being rejected if they're not acting a certain way, being a certain type of person, embodying an archetype.

isabeau, instead of doing the honestly genuinely hard and heavy work of learning to appreciate yourself and all your parts, goes all in on a new persona, even if it means suppressing parts of yourself and going against what you might want. he's unable, or just simply afraid, of not thinking in a binary when it comes to changing and growing as a person. he thinks it's much more comfortable staying in your lane as a strong buff guy that reassures people and not have to deal with the fact that being smart would Obviously Clash With That. well, it wouldn't, but he's scared! and doesn't even want to risk it!

this fear of upsetting the status quo can also be a p big motivator in Not Confessing Ever At All. this guy is so scared of being ever so slightly different than expected that he's immediately hit with the flight response the moment he tries.

tl;dr isabeau used Changing his personality as an escapism mechanism and discarding the entirety of who he used to be instead of dealing with the mortifying ordeal of learning to love yourself, and is too afraid of upsetting the status quo to mix and match personality traits, only operating in strict archetypes when shaping his character. boy why are you so identity crisis. i love you

#ohhhh isa ilysm and i love when the fandom doesn't just see you as a love interest. you're so peculiar to me #in stars and time #isat #isat isabeau #in stars and time spoilers #isat spoilers #in stars and time act 5 spoilers #pondering #isabeau #isat analysis #isat meta #long post #cosmic soundwaves

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itsswritten · 11 months ago

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teeny tiny

Pairing: Fairy reader x Azriel

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: Azriel practices dwindling with you. (Just some fluff, mutual pining, pre bond snapping)

Wings Universe - read more from this couple here.

Azriel was watching you intently, a soft smile spread on his lips as his gaze danced across your expression. You were so passionate when you spoke about your work– your duty as a fairy.

A stark difference to how he felt about being an Illyrian.

But knowing you now for only a year, you had softened that perspective he had for his own heritage. Purely by how dedicated you were to yours, and how you lit up whenever you got to speak about it. Naturally, when getting to know the IC you had wanted to learn everything about the Illyrians, everything about the sisters, about Amren. Every finer detail.

That warm nature of yours, got even the most reserved opening themselves up to you. You were always genuinely interested too, mesmerised in the differences and similarities you found among your new friends. You would never scrimp on compliments either, lovely words rolling off your tongue in awe when Cassian had explained some Illyrian lore. You even went as far to admit that you’d always thought the dark winged fae looked very cool and fierce.

Azriel could vividly remember the heat filling your cheeks one evening at Rita’s when you’d admitted that, the faerie wine offering you some liquid courage. The comment had gone straight to Cassian’s head, prancing round Rita’s flexing in front of Nesta with a stealthy look, posing for her. “Look how fierce I look, Nes,” Nesta only rolled her eyes.

Azriel, though, had kept that comment. Tucked it away in the corner of his mind that he saved purely for you. A space filled with compliments from you, mentions of the things you loved, or observations of when he thought you looked especially beautiful– which truly was everyday. That corner of his mind was slowly growing by the day, bit by bit consuming him more and more. But he didn’t mind. For every new area you occupied in his consciousness, it replaced something dark instead. Those nightmares became few and far between after you entered his life, and he felt lighter, brighter.

A mark that could only be left by a radiant individual– you.

Ever since he’d met you, he was absolutely smitten. There was a magnetic charge between you both, that just couldn’t keep him away. He was like a moth to a light, fluttering so dangerously close that if he wasn’t careful he might just burn.

But he couldn’t stop. Despite the risk of it all, the risk of you burning his desires down. The obvious rejection you would undoubtedly give him if his feelings ever became known. So he settled for friendship, in fact savoured in it. He welcomed the friendly banter and familiar touches you so kindly offered him, but sometimes he dared to imagine…selfishly letting himself wonder, if he was to confess, would it really all go up in flames?…or would a warm glow await him instead.

Azriel began to look for the good parts of his own culture, an excuse to be able to share something with you. Little anecdotes of younger years with his brothers, the plants that grew in the harsh terrain of Ramiel, and what creatures may lurk in those mountains. Something Azriel noticed had piqued your interest.

He found you numerous times after that in the library with Nesta and Gwyn, looking through bestiaries and field journals. Your commitment to the land and its creatures never wavering. You had found old scriptures, thousands of years old, of rare creatures that roamed the Illyrian land. Feline-like beasts that apparently once lived among Illyrians as their companions, a familiar of sorts. You had practically barged into Azriel’s room one evening when you had unearthed this new information, kneeled on his bed sharing this new discovery word for word as you read the translated version Gwyn had given you.

“We’ll have to go look for them Az,” You had beamed, “It’ll be like an adventure, and well I could write it off as work too seeing as technically this falls under my jurisdiction.”

Azriel had never cared much for his own culture and myths, actually, had rather hated every aspect of it. But somehow, watching you find the beauty between the cracks changed something in him. Over time the dismal opinion he had of Illyrians and that part of himself, paired with the progression in the camps had made a slight difference.

Today though, today, you were sharing even more of your world.

“So I thought, you know with you already being able to winnow you would grasp this the easiest” you smiled at Az.

You had brought him to the edge of one of the night court meadows you usually worked at. Elain had asked to join you on a day's work for the spring season, once confessing she wished the cauldron had turned her into a fairy just like you. You had told her she was perfect the way she was, exactly who she was supposed to be, and promised her anyone of any kind was welcome in the meadows.

What was supposed to be a fun girls day with Elain had quickly snowballed into a field trip, the rest of the inner circle adamant they had to come too. But if your friends couldn’t master the art of dwindling then they would not be permitted in the meadows. Rhys and Feyre were fine, that unlimited pot of power they both possessed actually meant you’d caught them several months ago, rolling around in a flower enjoying some quality time together. You’re not sure who was more embarrassed, yourself or Feyre when Rhys clumsily fell out of a flower bell stark naked covered in pollen.

Before the others would be allowed to cross the threshold of the meadows you would need to teach them first.

“Dwindling is a lot like winnowing, how you move yourself to a different space. Or even how your shadows move you through space. It’s essentially the same, but it’s the space within you that’s moving…well smaller.”

Your hands had been spread wide in your explanation, bringing them closer together as if your movement were perfectly representing how it worked. Your brows furrowed though, as Azriel looked at you with a soft dazed expression. Almost glassy eyed with a dumb smile on his mouth.

“Are you even listening to me Az?” Your tone felt stern leaving your lips. A little huff following after, that got his shadows moving in a giddy manner. It wasn’t just Azriel that found you utterly adorable, but his shadows too had a hard time hiding how your expressions caused a stir in them.

How they basked in your laughter, grew agitated in your discomfort or selfishly, liked to relish in your charming pouts.

Azriel quickly shook his head, as if shaking himself from the daze you so often ensnared him in, “I’m always listening,” he promised.

You rolled your bottom lip through your teeth gently, pausing for a moment to take in his words. How it had struck a ripple through your body, that often created butterflies in your stomach. Glancing up through your lashes you took your friend in, his large strong frame towering over you, never in an intimidating way. No, his presence, however daunting to others, always filled you with safety and comfort you hadn’t felt around many. And there were those beautiful hazel eyes that often reminded you of the sunrise after you’d worked the night shift. Golden rays breaking through the midnight blanket, spilling hazel threads into petals of blue.

Maybe one day you would tell him how when the sky filled with ribbons of gold and sapphire, that you only thought of him.

Quickly you stopped yourself from falling into your own daze, remembering his passing words.

I’m always listening.

That he was. So attentive, so kind, you’re not sure what you did to deserve the friendship of the Shadowsinger. You continued on, brushing over how genuine his words sounded. Rummaging around in your bag you pulled out a pouch of fairy dust.

“This amplifies your power, makes it easier to shrink. Should also help with the nausea,” you muttered, now choosing to ignore the way his eyes seemed to drink you up.

It was getting increasingly hard to disregard the effect the Shadowsinger had on you. He was so beautiful, so pretty– in that rugged Illyrian way. And he was very thoughtful too, and there was the way he said things to you sometimes that made it hard not to assume it meant more. Every word felt like a whispered kiss or unspoken promise, that you found yourself at times hoping, and daydreaming that perhaps it did mean something deeper.

Sprinkling the dust over Azriel, his nose scrunched a little at the scent. So familiar, he realised it reminded him of you. That lingering scent of fairy dust was always on you, mixed with vanilla and hints of honey, an underlying breeze of peonies. Your scent alone was enough to enchant him, enough to know he would be dreaming of you again tonight. His consciousness would slip him into a blissful haze of what it would be like to envelope himself in the crook of your neck and laze in your aroma.

Gently you took his hands into yours, his ragged hands engulfing your own.

Azriel couldn’t help notice the stark contrast. How perfect and soft you were, delicate and light. He was rough and weathered around the edges, hardened by war and conflict. A gentle squeeze from you pulled him from his thoughts, realising how close you were now, he would only have to lean down slightly to bridge the gap between you. So close he could press his lips to top of your head and–

As if brushing that thought from his mind, his shadows moved towards you. Brushing a strand of hair from your face, while the other tendrils wove through the air in between you both like a dance.

“Are you ready Az? Remember everything I taught you?”

He nodded.

Channelling his power in the technique you had shown him, his eyes fluttered shut. Honing in on the warmth of your hands and the faint sound of the breeze. His siphons simmered a glow as vibrations of power and space moved over the sharp lines and angles of his body, retracting and restricting the space within.

The air sounded different all of a sudden.

Vibrations growing louder, rustles becoming more powerful. Slowly Azriel opened his eyes, looking down at you, standing as you were before. He questioned if he’d even managed to do it, but as he glanced up he saw the tall green vertebrae of the grass tower above. The strands gently swaying in the wind, allowing the morning sun to filter through and cast viridescent shadows across the earth.

He had done it. He had dwindled.

The air was filled with a symphony of sounds, the song of crickets and the gentle rustling of the grass in the wind. Butterflies flitted by, leaving a gentle gust of wind in their wake. They were larger than him now, and he could vividly see the intricate designs and colours that lay on their wings.

“Az? Azriel are you okay? How do you feel?”

He hadn’t even realised you were talking, not until your hand gently pressed against the side of his face. Your thumb tracing the line of his jaw, as you looked up to him in concern.

“I feel fine,” he replied, finally remembering to take a breath as your touch left him.

“No nausea? You looked a little peaky for a moment, I was worried,”

Your remaining hand had slipped from his gentle grip, a simmer in his chest wishing it would remain. But Azriel unfurled his wings, stretching the dark membranes out, distributing his weight onto either feet to check his balance.

“Okay…” You smiled then, “This went better than I thought, you know it’s Cassian I’m most worried about. I just have a feeling he’ll sneeze himself into a giant or something,”

“Wait, is that possible?”

“No, or at least I don’t think so. But somehow I could see it happening with Cass,” You laughed. The angelic waves of your laughter pulled up the corners of his lips as he let out a chuckle.

Oh Azriel could stay in this moment forever. Just the two of you, no one else in sight for miles.The sun basking it’s glow upon you both. Your laughter faded into a comfortable silence before you closed your eyes, head tilting up towards the sun as the rays washed over your face.

Azriel thanked the Mother again for the blessings he had received since knowing you, because this moment right here– to be with you was surely one.

“Y/n…” Azriel couldn’t help breathe your name out, it barely a whisper as words he kept tucked in that corner of his mind seemed to pile into his mouth.

Gently your eyes fluttered open, your expression turning to him with a light hum in question. But before he could even untangle the mess of confessions on his tongue, a shadow loomed above.

With a slight jump, you hastily stepped back, colliding into the tough warm frame of the Shadowsinger, craning your neck up to see what had cast such a darkness.

A shadow– Azriel’s shadow.

The smokey tendril seemed to loom over you both inquisitively. It’s movements speaking of a curiosity to how its master was now so tiny.

“There’s always one,” Azriel grumbled, his hand tenderly moving to the small of your back for a moment as he stepped to your side.

Azriel crossed his arms across his chest, his expression boring on unimpressed as he glanced up at the disobedient wisp.

“You’ve got no excuse,” Azriel chastised, referring to the other shadows that had obediently followed an appropriate size to him after dwindling.

The shadow slumped a little in response, eliciting a small gasp from you at how utterly adorable you found it. As if remembering you were there the shadow turned it’s attention. Azriel’s earlier command to resize itself held no authority but it quickly slinked itself slightly smaller for you. It’s size resembled something of Azriel’s shape as it twirled around you making the layers of your dress flutter up in the wind.

“Oh my…” Your cheeks heated a rosy hue as you attempted to hold your dress down in the gust of air.

“Sorry about that,” Azriel heaved, his patience growing thin as he tried to hide his slight embarrassment at his unruly shadow.

“It’s quite alright Azriel,” you reassured him with a light chuckle, the smile on your lips easing him. The use of his full name, raising goosebumps on his skin.

It wasn’t the only thing your smile eased, the shadow, as if melting under you, softened like honey. Oozing back behind Azriel’s wings in a dazed infatuation.

“Come,” you took Azriel’s hand in yours. Pulling him gently through the blades of green. “You should settle in this size for a while, make sure everything feels okay before we return,”

Azriel watched your fingers interlock with his, the smaller wisps of his shadows winding around your joined hands. Whispering words to one another that he couldn’t hear.

He swallowed hard, once, twice taking in the view before him. Your usual pink dress dipping to the small of your back, taut flawless skin kissed under the sun as you pulled him through the green. No wings on show, though.

He wondered when you would share that part of you…if ever.

Azriel would never ask, but he hoped one day you trusted him enough.

That he would be so lucky. But as you glanced back over your shoulder, sending him a soft smile that seemed to bury itself deep into his chest. He pondered, if for only a moment, that perhaps he was lucky.

a/n: just a little instalment from your favourite couple! <3 What else do you want to see from them?? (Other than flower sex , I promise this is coming👀)

forever tags: @lilah-asteria @illyrianbitch @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @milswrites @marscardigan

Wings tags: @minaethrym

#azriel x reader #acotar #wings universe #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #acotar fanfiction #angst #acotar series #azriel shadowsinger #fairy x azriel #azriel x fairy #fairy reader x azriel

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sidthedollface2 · 1 year ago

Text

Something Old and Something New

Pairing: Azriel x Reader (Rhys sister)

Summary: Rhys tells Azriel to back off Elain and find release at a pleasure hall. Instead, Azriel finds you, Rhys' younger sister.

The Princess of the Night Court becomes Azriels rebound. What could possibly go wrong?

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: MDNI 18+, ANGST, hurt/no comfort, cheating? (not really tho you'll see), smut (p in v, oral, fingering) no use of yn, nicknames, drug use, alcohol.

A/n: I’m back from vacation and decided to do this one shot in between crown fit for a god. I really don't like using yn (its me not you) so every one of my fics will have a nickname but its still x reader. I’m sorry in advance if this hurts you. Anyway, enjoy. :)

“You will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.”

Azriel hadn't slept in weeks. The weight of his shame suddenly became too heavy for his illyrian shoulders. You weren't supposed to be this magnetic and he wasn't supposed to stick around this long. He told himself it was just going to be a quick fling, someone he could spend the night with and try to forget about her.

But you had always been in his company. Ever since you became of age he thought you were stunning and entirely too good for him. You were afterall Rhysands younger sister. The female version with equal power and even more beautiful. Graceful when needed, mostly among people of importance, and always polite and kind like a princess should be. You were a Princess for the people, earning the citizens trust and walking among them like each and every person was your friend. It was no secret why they preferred your company to their High Lord.

Your amethyst eyes were now engrained behind his very own eyelids, everytime he closed his eyes for the night, they shot wide open. The image of you under him all those nights and the soft moans as he took you to bed in the shroud of darkness. He really didn’t know how it happened, mostly, he blamed it on the alcohol. One night after Ritas was all it took for him to be obsessed, seeking you out when his loneliness threatened to consume him.

Azriel’s panting mixes with your own moans as he pumps himself inside you. The delicious drag of his thick cock leaves you breathless under him. His touch is gentle as he cups your cheek, his hazel eyes never leaving yours as he imagines forever in your arms. “You're so beautiful. Can’t believe I get to have you.” He coo’s as he trails soft kisses down your neck, nipping and biting your flesh, careful to not leave any marks. Your hands card through his dark waves, back arching off the bed when his lips attach to your pebbled nipple.

Kissing and biting at the fullness of your breasts, soothing away the love bruising he left on them previously. His scarred hands feel like silk when they roam the soft curves of your body, lighting a fire within you with each and every touch. Knees dig into the bed as he grips your hips, still completely sheathed inside you. He moves your body against his, matching the velocity of his thrusts. Deeper and deeper. One arm wraps around your waist while the other rubs tiny circles on your clit. His eyes never leave your beautiful face as his favorite part comes to life right before him. Your head is thrown back, mouth agape as pleasure builds in the pit of your stomach. “Oh fuck Az, don’t stop.” Azriel’s eyes sparkle with wonder as you fall apart beneath him. Toes curling as the force of your orgasm takes over all your senses. Azriel follows soon after. His pace stutters as your name falls from his lips with a groan. Spilling his seed into you with slow thrusts, ensuring each drop doesn't go to waste.

“You were so good for me baby,” he smiles as he peppers your face with kisses. Azriel pulls out with a hiss and you giggle into the covers when his toned ass walks to the bathroom. You pout adorably when he returns wearing a pair of low hanging pants, and a warm cloth in his hands. “None of that love. I’m all yours and very willing to give you seconds and thirds,” he waggles his eyebrows and nestles between your legs. No shame or embarrassment from neither of you as he gently cleans you up. In between his gentle wipes he places a loud kiss to your core, “so fucken pretty.”

“Pink or Red?” He asks, looking through your assortment of panties, imagining how you'd look wearing the lacey ones. “Black.” Is all you reply and Azriels grin widens when you pick the lacey ones.

He insists on helping you get dressed, pinching your butt and digging his fingers in your sides, making you giggle. You swat his greedy hands away. knowing it's just an excuse to keep touching you. “I’m not going to let you help me next time, all you do is tickle me,” you joke, knowing very well you couldn’t keep him away if you tried. “Fine. I won’t tickle you next time,” he says, crossing his arms with a sly grin on his handsome face.

“You said that last time, and the time before that too.”

“Then you should know what to expect. Now come to bed, and snack with me.” Azriel moves to lay on the bed and opens the covers. Patting the space next to him with the palm of his hand, beckoning you next to him. You don’t have to be told twice, because this was without a doubt your favorite part. Like clockwork Azriel requested all your favorite snacks and without hesitation the house delivered.

Like a true Royal he fed you ripe grapes from the vine, watching intently as you parted your mouth for the sweet berry. Azriel licked his lips when your mouth wrapped around the fruit, making you chuckle as you pulled it off the stem. “When you said snacks this is not what I had in mind. I was thinking more like dessert.”

“You just had dessert baby,” he teased with a shit eating grin as he gestured to his cock. You couldn’t help the snort that escaped from the back of your throat, causing you both to burst into fits of laughter, giggling like children. Who knew the shadowsinger belly laughed so openly. Something he only did with you. Once your laughs died down Azriel indulged you with a sweet treat. Again offering to spoon feed you, taking every chance to lick frosting off your glossy lips or fingers.

By the end of the night you couldn't believe how sore your cheeks were from laughing so hard. Azriel had this charm about him, and you couldn’t get enough. You draped your arm over his toned stomach. Head nestled against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his strong heart, a melody you loved to fall asleep to. He held you close to his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair, “Goodnight baby,” he whispered.

“Night Az, I love you.”

Silence.

Azriel didn’t sleep that night. Neither did you. You didn’t expect him to say the words back, because he’d shown you he loved you in his actions alone. But his coldness afterward was unexpected. He laid still under you. No longer stroking your hair, or rubbing small circles on your back. It was like all the air had left his body yet the rhythm of his heart increased, hammering against his chest with the ferocity of a freight train. If he felt your saddened tears fall on his chest he didn’t mention it, too caught up in his thoughts to console you.

But now all his thoughts were of you and how quick your love had turned bitter when he didn't respond after you had said those three words to him.

He was an idiot. Because he did love you. At the very sight of you his heart beat wildly in his chest. He wanted to spend every waking moment holding your hand and kissing your perfect lips. Fall asleep with you in his arms only to be awoken by your feminine beauty. But Rhysand was unaware that you two were in a relationship. Were you in a relationship? He never asked. Wanted to. But he didn’t. He couldn’t imagine a day where Rhys would accept him as your lover. Rhys had been furious that he wanted to sleep with Elain, threatening him to no end. He couldn't imagine the anger if he were to find out that he turned his efforts to you instead. There were only a few things Azriel was scared of. Rhysands fury if he were to ever find out he’s been sleeping with his sister. And losing you. Those sort of went hand and hand didn’t they.

You woke up alone the following morning. Thinking that your confession was too much for the shadowsinger. And perhaps you were just one of his many conquests added to the long list of females that warmed his bed. For as long as you knew Azriel he only had casual flings, nothing of substance. No one he introduced to his family. It made you feel stupid. He made you feel stupid. Hoping that you were the one he could call home. Someone he could envision spending the rest of his life with. You could forgive him for not saying ‘I love you’ back. That didn’t stop you from loving him and that didn’t mean he didn’t care about you. Because surely he did right?

Right?

It wasn’t just that though, you had overheard Azriel tell Cassian sleeping with you was a mistake and that choosing you to be his rebound hadn’t worked out for him. “She said she loved me. It’s just all wrong. This wasn’t how I wanted things to go between us-” You didn’t bother hearing the rest of the conversation. Azriel’s words left your heart gaping, a wound so large you were afraid no one could mend it.

You had missed the importance of his following words, how Azriel wished he had done things right with you. Courted you the right way, with flowers and lovely dates to the finest eateries. Taking things slow at first, holding hands and sweet kisses under the moonlight. You didn’t hear Azriel explain that you had become more than he ever expected, more than just a rebound. He wanted a life with you. Now and forever, just you two and the family he always wanted.

You’d both move into a beautiful house just along the Sidra where you’d spend hours decorating every room to your liking. He’d soon marry you in front of all his family and friends, wearing the finest gown that glittered brighter than the night sky. During the mating frenzy, because of course you were his mate, he’d be sure to fuck a baby into you. And if his seed didn’t stick he wouldn't stop until your scent shifted to one of a pregnant female. He just hoped that Rhysand would give his blessing.

Now everytime Azriel tried to seek you out, you were nowhere to be found. Like you had just vanished from the Night Court, even though the other members had interactions with you. You suddenly had no time for Azriel. The citizens of Velaris saw you less and less and when they did, your time spent was cut in half. Your joyous laughter no longer echoed the halls of the House of Wind, instead Cassian and Nesta’s not so secret sex romps were becoming more frequent. You had changed your entire schedule to avoid crossing paths with the shadowsinger.

You no longer spent your mornings having breakfast with Rhysand and Feyre, instead you woke up earlier than usual and held your morning breakfast in the library.

“Why are you having breakfast here and not with Rhys?” Azriels hazel eyes took you in as he neared, noticing your tense shoulders. Closing the book in your hand, now finished with your chapter, you stand and gather your items into your bag, “was just catching up on some reading.” You don’t meet his gaze, the sight of him too painful for your heart to bear. “You haven’t been training with Cassian either,” he continues. “Or shopping with Mor. You haven't exchanged books with Nesta and,” Azriel towers over you, his breath fanning over your cheek at his closeness, “you haven’t warmed my bed.” Your eyes finally meet his, a look of desire in his warm eyes as his hands come up to cup your face. A glance over his shoulder has you pulling away from his touch as Elain enters the library, her soft voice dancing along the walls, “Hi Az.”

He ignores her completely, doesn’t even spare her a glance. But your eyes travel from her to him and back again. You see the fondness she has for him in the flush of her cheeks and the way her voice sings as she calls his name.

Memories of their subtle interactions come crashing into your mind. Her shy gaze whenever he walked in the room. The slight brush of fingers when they crossed paths, his lingering gaze when she exited a room.

He’s not yours, and you're not his. Never was, never will be. It dawns on you then that all the soft touches and lingering glances were never sincere but simply a ploy to get Elain jealous. Everytime you made love to him you gave a part of yourself, hoping he would accept you with open arms and an open heart.

You had hoped you were the only one in his life that made him throw his head back, eyes closed shut in ecstasy. But it's clear now when he closed his eyes he saw Elain riding him instead, not you. She was who he really wanted and you were just a placeholder. The rebound.

He knows you well enough to tell when you're about to fall apart and now is one of those instances. It clicks for him now why he hasn’t seen you. Azriel catches your arm before you dart away, his touch gentle yet firm “you're avoiding me.” He says, worry etched all over his face as he attempts to pull you into his chest. “I’ve figured it out so you can stop pretending to care about me now.” A tear escapes your waterline and Azriel reaches to thumb away the hurt that he's caused.

You don't give him the chance as you swat his hand away and turn to make your exit. He’s panicking now watching you practically run away from him, as you hurry to get away from his presence.

A wound so intense suddenly opens within his heart. With no other option but to just blurt out the first thing that comes to his mind to keep you close. “I adore you!” he says breathlessly and waits for you to run into his arms so he could kiss you silly. When you turn around to confront him, Elain comes up from behind him and wraps her arms around his middle in a tight squeeze. A picture perfect couple you think to yourself, her innocent personality and bubbly nature a lovely contrast to his tall, dark and handsome. Azriel can’t pry her arms off him in time to chase after you before you rush out of the library, traces of your scent still lingering in the air.

You run and run you're not sure for how long, just long enough till your tears are dried tracks along your soft cheeks. You find yourself in the arms of your brother, clutching his shirt in your closed fist as you loosen the cries that held your throat hostage. “Hey hey, what's wrong?” he coo’s pulling away just enough to see the heartbreak etched in your pretty face. “Send me away please Rhys, I am begging. I never ask anything of you, it doesn’t have to be forever, just a few months.” Your shoulders are shaking violently as you continue to wail into his chest, the intensity of your cries cracking the high lord into submission. “Are you sure, love? I can fix-”

“No! There's nothing you can do.”

Rhys nods, winnowing you to a secret cabin that sits along the border of The Night Court. “Just tell me this. Are you in any danger?” he asks, “because I know Azriel and Cassian or even myself will-”

You wince at the mention of Azriels name, “I’m not in any danger, brother.” You assure him as you settle on the couch in front of the hearth, pulling a warm throw over your body and curling in on yourself. “Good, that’s good. I’ll talk to Kallias. He has someone he wants you to meet. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind hosting you for as long as you need.” Rhysand takes one last look at you, studying how unhappy you look, hoping you can confide in him your troubles, whatever they may be. You lay bundled under the comfort of the blanket, your glossy eyes staring into the flames of the fireplace. It’s heat providing a comfort you wish was someone else's.

Azriel enters your room frantically searching for you, but he gasps and stumbles back when he sees Cerridwen packing your belongings. “Where is she?” he asks, his voice tense and panicked as he grips her by the shoulders. “I’m afraid I don’t have that information.”

“Why are you packing her stuff then?” He starts shaking her shoulders, as if it would quicken her answer. “She’ll be visiting the Winter Court and Rhysand requests her favorite items to be sent to her.”

You were running away from him, when all he wanted was to run toward you. Azriels world shattered completely. If you weren't here to live beside him then he had no interest in living. He had been too complacent in being in the now and not once had he initiated to be something serious. Now he was left with longing.

That same night Rhysand made accommodations for you to stay in the Winter Courts Palace. Kallias and Vivienne were more than happy to have you stay with them. They were quite eager to introduce you to their son Kit. Hoping that with time you’d become great friends. Kit was the spitting image of his father. His white hair styled to perfection, with not a single strand misplaced. Chiseled cheekbones and a sharp jaw, pouty lips with Icy blue eyes to match his cool demeanor. His eyes trailed your beautiful curves as he bowed, taking your hand within his, placing a tender kiss to your delicate knuckles. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you Princess.”

Your violet eyes met his and for a moment his pretty face made you forget about your heartbreak. Kit extended his elbow to you and without a second doubt you linked your arm with his as he led you to see the beauty of his Court.

You spent the next two weeks in the company of the future Heir. Kit remained a respectful host. Introducing you to his closest friends, a welcomed change of personalities compared to your friends from home. Each evening he’d join you for dinner. Offering a different restaurant each night in hopes to expand your palate in order to get a feel for your favorite foods.

During your brief stay you opened up to him and told him of the situationship you had with Azriel. You explained to him what you overheard Azriel say and how stupid he made you feel after you confessed your love for him. “I finally saw the way he looked at her and it broke me more than it should have, because I remember when he looked at me the same way. I heard him tell Cass that I was just the girl he picked to get over her. I never meant anything to him. Yet this whole time it had been real for me and I foolishly fell in love with him.”

“Oh sweetheart, you deserve to be someone's first and only choice. You’re a Princess of The Night Court, if anyones the stupid one It’s him for not seeing how incredible you are.” With the end of his sweater sleeve, Kit wipes away a stray tear that escaped your waterline. His gentleness is a stark contrast to the ice flowing within his veins. “Besides I hear there's a handsome Prince looking for a warm heart to thaw the coldness in his soul,” he smirks playfully, rocking on the heels on his feet, a look of innocence in his crystal eyes. Your sweet giggle transcends into his favorite song and he makes it a mission to hear it often.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Azriel was tearing himself apart from the inside out. By the third day of being plastered and starting fights with innocent bystanders; Rhys had pulled him off missions until he sobered up enough to function. All that did was give him a larger drinking window. He visited every winery and brewery in Verlaris, sometimes even forgetting how he got there in the first place. Drowning in bottles of liquor till he could barely stand, let alone fly or walk or do anything for that matter. Tonight was different from the past two weeks, as he decided to smoke his problems away, alcohol no longer providing the high that made him forget.

The strain for tonight was Mirthroot laced with Amnesia Haze, a hallucinogenic that could either make your deepest wish a reality or make you completely forget your life's problems.

Azriel couldn’t remember how he got up the steps to the house of wind. He couldn’t remember lots of things as of late. One thing he’d never forget though, was your scent and the way you made him feel. So when he opened the door to the house and your sensual perfume hit his nose he almost fell to his knees with relief.

You were finally home. He could explain himself and tell you that he loved you and that you meant the world to him. Azriel followed your scent like it was second nature. His shadows excitedly rushed up stairs towards your bed chambers, leaving him slightly confused because you were sitting at the kitchen Table.

Your hair was long in flowy waves down your back, a little longer since the last time he saw you. It hadn't been that long had it? It didn’t matter, all he wanted was to hold you in his arms again. Keep you safe in Velaris where you belong. Azriel slowly approached you, his breath shaky as he placed his hand on your shoulder. “Vi?”

Violet, the nickname you were given for your stunning eyes with various shades of purple and blue. Your eyes met his and you smiled, “Hi Az.”

“Gods I missed you,” he admitted as he pulled you up from the chair, enveloping you in a warm embrace. You were slightly startled at how tight he hugged you. Inhaling your scent deeply as his nose nuzzled against your neck. “I’m so sorry, for everything. Please forgive me?” Azriel cupped your face between his scarred hands, angling you to look up at him. His pupils were large and dilated, a gaze mixed with sorrow and lust. Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Az? What are you talking about?”

“Come here, I need to tell you something.” Azriel lifted you onto the kitchen counter, earning a small yelp from your lips. He settled between your knees, making your thin night dress pool around your hips. His hands remained on your exposed thighs, rubbing them softly to keep you warm. His eyes never strayed from yours, like he couldn't believe you were actually here. “I made a mistake and should have never let you feel like you were the wrong choice. I don’t care what Rhys says anymore. I want you.”

His hands inch closer to your center, a silent request to touch you as the other brings your lips to his in a steamy kiss. You nod into the kiss, giving him permission to touch you. Azriel pulls your panties to the side, easily coating his fingers in your arousal, groaning when he feels how wet you already are from his kiss alone.

Your breath catches when he slips his fingers inside and curls them in a come hither motion. “Oh gods Az, I’ve dreamed of this moment,” you pant into his mouth, needing more of him, anything he's willing to give you’ll take. He then rubs tiny circles on your clit, making you throw your head back so hard it slams against the cupboard in a loud thud. White flashes behind your eyes as your orgasm crashes over you, a giddy smile plastered on your face from the pleasure he's given you.

You hop off the counter, eager to return the favor. Palming his cock, you notice he's barely hard, a groan escapes his mouth as you fumble with his belt. You pull Azriels pants down along with his underwear, pooling at his ankles, his cock still not fully erect. Your small hand grips him at the base, making him hiss. He sways side to side, eyes closed as he concentrates on getting hard, something he's never had to do before. You pump his shaft. Once. Twice. And then you wrap your lips around his cock and suck, the warmth of your mouth excites him and he stands at attention, finally. “So the rumors are true,” you coo.

“Fuck baby, your mouth feels so good. I Fucken love you.”

Wait. What rumors?

“Azriel?”

Azriels eyes fly open. You're standing in the doorway, shaking like a leaf in the wind with a hand over your mouth. Sobbing loudly into your hand, tears blurring your vision as they escape your waterline. Heavy drops fall to the ground and the only sound heard is the unmistakable ‘pop’ as the female on her knees releases Azriels cock from her mouth.

Azriel blinks rapidly, shaking his head, trying to rid himself of the haze he's in. He looks down to the female, stuffing his cock back in his pants as she's scrambling to get up.

“Elain?” he chokes out her name, tears welling in his eyes as he stares at her, devastation in his wide eyes as he realizes what he's done. What he did to her thinking she was you. His eyes turn to meet yours again, but he only catches your dress billowing as you turn around and run. Your loud wailing echoing in his ears like a hammer to a church bell.

“Vi wait! Please. It’s not what you think!” He yells, rushing past Elain as he sprints after you, needing to reach you before you winnow away. His heavy footsteps pound against the tile floors, waking up the rest of the inner circle. Just as you're about to reach the knob Azriels arms wrap around your middle, pulling your back to his chest. You both crash to the ground from the force of Azriels tackle. His back meets the hard floor in a loud slam, cushioning your fall. “Let me go!” You plead, kicking and clawing at his arms that are tightly wrapped around you. “Sshh, baby please. Listen to me.” his voice cracks as he tries to calm you down, “I love you, I love you so much. I thought she was you!! Please believe me!”

Your voice slices through him, like a dagger to his already bleeding heart. “I hate you!” You scream out in anger, venom lacing every word as it hits its mark. “I hate you! I fucking hate you!”

Darkness envelops the entire room, It’s cold mist threatening to devour anyone who so dares to defy its power. “Azriel, release my sister before I sever those hands off your body.” Rhys stands at the bottom of the stairs, his power bouncing off him like flames of a fire. The rest of the inner circle gathered around him, watching in horror as both males stood off in a staring contest. It’s Azriel who wavers; finally releasing you to shuffle away from him.

Azriel sits on his heels, a subtle submissive pose showing respect to his High Lord. “Rhys, I’m sorry. I’ve been in love with your sister for some time now. Too cowardice to tell you or her,” Azriels gaze falls on you. “I’ve been a mess since you left. Masking my pain with alcohol and drugs, which is no excuse. But tonight I took a hallucinogen, and,” his chin wobbles as he tries to hold back his tears, “I made the biggest mistake of my life. I know I’ve lost you, and you will never forgive me. However, I need you to know, in front of everyone, that I have always loved you. I will always love you.”

Azriel lowers his head. The flood of emotions finally pulled him under the surface, drowning him in his own misery. Fat heavy tears break from his eyes; landing in scattered drops along the floor beneath him. This pain is all consuming, torturous in its own vile way. Tearing at his heart shred by shred, a disastrous mess all by his own hands. A lonely scarred heart to match his scarred hands. Hands that once held the most precious gem, a rare Violet beauty; now only hold the memory of a lost love.

When Azriel lifts his head to see your face for the last time, he’s once again too late. Fear latches onto his ankles like a heavy chain, anchoring him to the bottom of the sea. You’re gone. His darkness driving away your bright light, leading you into the arms of someone new.

Part 2 (Something Borrowed)

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x fem!reader #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #azriel fanfic #azriel x you #azriel spymaster #azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar #winter court

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