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inkedinshadows · 8 hours ago

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The Path To Healing

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: A glimpse into different moments of Azriel's life: from his childhood trauma to the physical healing, from his struggles and his acceptance to the beginning of his mental healing journey.

Warnings: angst, self-hate, self-consciousness, violence and blood, mentions of torture, language, fingering (brief)

Word count: 8.9k

A/N: I might or might not have cried while writing some parts of this. I focused only on Azriel's hands, and I'm sure I only scratched the surface of what his trauma is. I'm nowhere close to an expert on any of this, but I tried my best and hopefully did it justice. @azrielappreciationweek

Pain was all he knew.

His eyes hurt from crying, and he desperately wanted to rub them, but he couldn't. He couldn't, because his hands… His hands…

More tears poured down his already puffed cheeks, and his cries turned into a choked sound—sobs that tore through his chest and shook his little body, his wings a dead weight on his back.

“Shh,” his mother murmured, her voice soothing, her touch gentle as she cupped his face. “It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay, baby.”

Azriel didn't know how to believe her. It seemed to him like nothing could ever be okay again. He couldn't feel his hands anymore—they had been replaced by a blinding pain that reached up to his elbows. All he could see when he looked down was a red splotch, too red to be normal.

When his father had heard his screams, he’d called the healers. By then, it was too late, and the damage was already done. But his father had merely given his half-brothers a disappointed look and dumped Azriel in his mother's care, as if he had become even more of a burden than before. He didn't know what he had done to deserve it.

His mom began to hum a lullaby, but Azriel could barely hear it over his sobs and whimpers. She took one of his shaking hands in hers as gently as she could, touching his marred skin when strictly necessary, but even that drew a shriek from him.

“I know, baby,” his mother whispered as she began wrapping his hand in new strips of clean fabric. “I know it hurts. But I need to bandage it so it can get better, okay?”

Azriel tried to hold back his cries of pain as she worked. He tried to focus on her face and the lullaby instead, but he kept praying through it all—to the Cauldron, to the Mother, to whoever was listening—that it would be over soon. Just like he had begged and prayed while his half-brothers had burned him, but no one had come then.

Now, though, his silent prayers were answered.

“There you go, my love,” his mom said softly, placing a kiss on his forehead. “All done. See? Does it hurt a bit less now?”

He looked down to find his hands covered in white linen. The tight bandages applied just enough pressure to reduce the pain, even if only by just a fraction. He met his mother's concerned gaze and nodded weakly, watching as the corner of her lips twitched upward. It didn't help much, though, and tears still streamed down his face.

“Come here,” she whispered, gathering his shaking body in her arms and holding him close to her chest. “My precious boy. You'll get through this, Az. I promise.”

Azriel buried his face in her neck and cried until he was too exhausted to do even that. But his mom never stopped singing him an old Illyrian lullaby, rocking him back and forth as if he were a newborn baby.

She kept going long after he fell asleep.

~~~~~~

Azriel was staring at his hands, at the ridges of his new scars. He knew he should be practicing, but he could only stare.

“What is it, sweetie?”

His mother came up beside him. His father had allowed her to see him a bit more over the last few months, not wanting to spend money on healers more than once every other week when they came to check on him and his progress.

Azriel turned his hands over, now looking at the backs of them. He still wasn’t used to seeing them like this. How much time had he spent looking at them? During those long hours in his cell with no light, he had thought about them endlessly.

Sometimes, he could swear the darkness whispered in his ear, soothing his mind until he finally fell asleep.

“They're ugly,” he said. His voice was flat, as if he was simply stating a fact. Because that's what they were to him—ugly, ruined, useless. Always shaking and itching.

His mother's soft hands enveloped his smaller ones in a gentle hold. “Look at me.”

He obeyed, meeting her tender, reassuring gaze. Even at his young age, he knew she loved him. His stepmother never looked at him like that, on the rare occasions she even bothered to acknowledge his existence.

“Your hands are not ugly, my child,” his mom assured him. Her tone was calm, but there was a new resolution etched onto her features. “They've just been through a lot.”

Azriel shook his head. “They're ugly,” he insisted. “No one else has hands that look like this. They're full of scars and cuts and…”

His voice trailed off as his mom extended her wings behind her. A twinge of pain crossed her face, and she could only unfold them a few inches, but it was enough for Azriel to see the twin long scars running down their length. He didn't know how she got them, but she once told him she couldn't fly because of them. He’d felt an odd sense of relief at that, knowing his mom couldn't fly either—that her blood, like his, urged her to take off and roam the skies, yet neither of them could.

“Do you think my wings are ugly, Az?” she asked. She still spoke with that soft tone, but it was now tinged with firmness.

Azriel immediately shook his head. “No,” he answered. “No, they're not ugly.”

“But they have scars. They're ruined and useless.” How had she known those were the words he used for his own hands? Had he said them out loud? “What are wings for, if not for flying? Yet I can't fly anymore.”

He shook his head again, more firmly this time. “Mom, no,” he said, decisive and unyielding. “Your wings are beautiful. You're beautiful.”

Her face softened, a smile blooming on her lips as she gently squeezed his hands. “Then your hands are beautiful too.” She lifted them to her lips, kissing each one. “Think of them not as reminders of pain, but of strength. You've suffered a lot, but you're stronger. You're healing. And one day, it won't even hurt anymore.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment. “Is it really like that?”

“Of course, baby,” she reassured him, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair.

He knew she was lying. He saw the pain on her face when she moved her wings. They still hurt sometimes. But he believed her anyway, because he needed to.

His mother let go of his hands and picked up the pen he had discarded just a few minutes ago. “Do you think you can practice a little longer?”

Azriel didn't want to. His fingers had gone stiff earlier, the constant itching even stronger now. But he didn't want his hands to be useless, so he took the pen from her.

Almost two sheets of paper were covered with just one word, repeated over and over. His own name. Easy enough to write, yet the letters were crooked and shaky, the ink smeared where his hand had accidentally trailed over it.

With a sigh, Azriel set the pen on the paper and tried his best to keep his hand steady as he resumed the exercise.

~~~~~~

Azriel really wanted to get laid.

There was no other way to say it. Every time he heard Cassian and Rhysand talk about a new girl they had slept with, he felt a pang of jealousy. He wanted to experience it too—to know what it felt like to have that kind of connection with someone and not have to resort to his own hand whenever he couldn't ignore his need.

But he had always been too shy to approach the pretty girls his brothers chatted up so easily. His hands did nothing to help his confidence.

Tonight, though, was bonfire night. Organized twice a year, it was held on the Spring and Autumn Equinox to celebrate the new season. And this year, Azriel had every intention of going home with a girl.

His brothers were laughing and pushing each other as they walked through the muddy streets of Windhaven. He wasn’t paying much attention to what they were saying—something about their earlier fight during training. No, Azriel’s mind was already focused on his plan.

He would keep a safe distance from the fire, where no incidents could happen. But he would scan the crowd of Illyrians for a female who caught his interest, and when he found her, he would approach her, talk a little, and then ask if she wanted to go somewhere more private.

Simple enough.

He was a warrior in training, after all. He had seven Siphons. He was a Shadowsinger.

He had nothing to fear from interacting with girls.

Yet, he couldn't recall the last time he’d started a conversation with a female. In the ten years he'd been at Windhaven, it had probably happened only with Rhys's mother. But she didn't count.

Someone bumped into Azriel, and, lost in his thoughts as he was, he almost fell to the ground. He managed to flare his wings to steady himself, glaring at Cassian as he regained his balance.

“Sorry about that,” Cassian said, though his snicker didn't make him sound particularly sincere. “I've been talking to you for two minutes, but you didn't hear a single word. What's going on?”

“Nothing,” Azriel mumbled, folding his wings behind him again. “Maybe you're just not worth listening to.”

Cassian gasped audibly, clutching his chest in mock heartache as a group of children sprinted by, headed for the square where the first booms of laughter and echoes of chattering rang out.

“Don't worry, Az,” Rhys chimed in before their brother could come up with a retort. “You'll get your first taste of sex tonight.”

Azriel shrugged off the hand Rhysand had placed on his shoulder. “Don't look in my mind,” he nearly growled, checking his mental shields just to be sure.

Both his brothers halted their steps and stared at him, twin shit-eating grins on their faces.

“I didn't,” Rhys said. “But thank you for confirming my suspicions.”

Cassian nudged him with an elbow, already teasing him about girls and first times and wingspans. With a snort, Azriel shoved him away and continued toward the bonfire, leaving the other two behind to push each other around, their chuckles chasing him down the street.

How they had guessed what he was up to, he didn't know. He’d been careful not to tell them, knowing their reaction would consist of snickers and jabs that he was in no mood for.

As he turned the corner, the square came into view. Just like every year, the bonfire stood in its center, rising several feet high and adorned with little homemade trinkets meant to bring good luck and a prosperous season when burned.

They would light it soon.

The square was already packed with people when Azriel reached it. Children ran around chasing each other, their laughs and screams echoing into the night. Warriors gathered in small groups, swords on their back and knives at their thighs or hips, not letting their guard down even during a festivity.

And then there were the females. Most sat together in a corner, chatting idly and glancing at the children from time to time. But some of them—the younger ones, the ones around Azriel's age—strolled in groups of two or three.

How was he supposed to approach them if they were always together? It was difficult enough when they were alone.

Azriel spotted Cassian and Rhys from the corner of his eye and moved deeper into the crowd, choosing to stand on the opposite side of the square from them. The last thing he needed was for his brothers to make fun of him.

Someone shouted a warning, and a moment later, the pyre was lit. Azriel flinched as flames erupted, pressing himself closer to the wall behind him. Even from this distance, he could feel the heat of the fire, warming his skin and casting a flickering glow all around.

He shut it out. He shut out the memory of what fire could do to flesh, the smell of burned skin, the screams and cries of a terrified eight-year-old boy. The shadows suddenly swirled around him, brushing against his arms and neck.

Past. Gone. Gone. Just memories.

Azriel closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, letting the truth they whispered calm his racing heart.

He sensed the girl before even the darkness could murmur of her approach.

He let his shoulders slump a little and slid his hands into his pockets, assuming a more casual stance. When he opened his eyes, she was watching him from a few feet away. Her head snapped around to stare at the bonfire as soon as she realized she'd been caught staring.

Azriel couldn't suppress his smirk. He had grown accustomed to females looking his way from the moment he’d hit puberty, but it still made him feel smug every time. Never mind that they didn't approach him—or that he never approached them.

But now, though. Now he would.

Taking one last deep breath, he took a nervous step toward her. And then another. She glanced in his direction, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, but one more step and Azriel was standing in front of her.

A few inches shorter than him, she didn't back away, her big brown eyes meeting his hazel ones. Her delicate face was framed by strands of wavy black hair that flowed past her shoulders, and he stopped himself before his eyes could travel downward to the curves shaping her slim body. She was pretty. Beautiful, even.

“Hi,” he said, attempting a smile. He wasn't sure it looked right.

The girl offered a small smile back. “I'm, uh… I didn't mean to stare. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It's alright.”

For a brief, awkward moment, they just stood there, looking at each other. Then Azriel realized she was waiting for him to say something more. Right.

“What's your name?” he finally asked, silently thanking the little shadow that had curled around his ear to whisper the suggestion.

“I'm Teagan.” The girl's smile widened. “And you're Azriel.”

Caught off guard, he blinked. “You know me?”

Teagan chuckled, a clear and crystalline sound that eased some of the tension in Azriel's body.

Some of it.

“I've seen you around,” she answered with a shrug. Firelight danced on her features. “There aren't many Shadowsingers here, you know. None, in fact. You're one of a kind.”

Her initial shyness seemed completely gone now. Good. That made one of them, at least. Because if her words were meant as flattery, they didn't work. Instead, they only made Azriel more nervous.

What if she had expectations? What if she started asking questions about his powers? What if she would be disappointed now that she was talking to him? What if she—

Azriel cleared his throat, trying to clear his mind at the same time. “Thank you,” he said.

Too stiff. Too short. Not an acceptable answer. But he didn't know what else to say. How was he supposed to talk to a girl when he’d barely had any social interaction for the first eleven years of his life?

But Teagan must have found his awkwardness endearing, because she smiled, amusement shining in her eyes. “Aren't you going to offer me some food?”

A blush crept up his cheeks as he glanced over to the few tables laid with food in one corner of the square. People were already gathering around them and filling their dishes. Cassian was there too, shamelessly flirting with a girl whose hands were already wandering over his chest.

Azriel turned back to Teagan and nodded, a shy smile forming on his face. “I am, actually.” He cleared his throat—as if it could help him sound more confident—then gestured to the tables with his head. His hands remained buried in the pockets of his coat. “Would you like to get some food?”

It came out too formal, and his posture was too rigid. And simply nodding toward the tables? Rude. How could Rhys do this so smoothly? How could Cassian be so bold and smug?

Teagan chuckled again, though. She looped her arm through Azriel's and steered him toward the food. “You've never done this before, have you?”

He almost choked. It was worse than he'd feared, then.

“No, not really… I…” His voice trailed off, and he had no idea how to recover.

She leaned in closer as they walked, and Azriel became acutely aware of just how close she was. Her body pressed against his side, and he could feel her breath on his neck now. He wanted to take her hand, or maybe even slide his arm around her waist. If only he had worn gloves, maybe he would have dared. Though he'd need to find the courage first.

“Am I the first girl you try to flirt with?” she asked, her tone teasing.

Try. Not just flirt, but try to flirt. He was failing so miserably. Maybe he should just give up and leave.

Azriel could only nod, his face a deeper shade of red than Cassian’s siphons.

“I think it's cute,” Teagan said, her big smile lighting up her pretty face. “I'm glad you chose me to be your first.”

If only she knew what kind of first Azriel hoped she would be… but judging by how things were going, he suspected they wouldn’t get that far.

“I… don't really know what I'm doing,” he admitted, unsure why he was even saying that. It probably wasn't a smart move to reveal it, but it was too late to take it back.

As they weaved through the crowd, Teagan stepped even closer to him, and in doing so, her wing brushed against Azriel’s. They both gasped, and though she smiled sheepishly, he didn’t miss the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“Sorry,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. “I just wanted to be closer to you. I really think you're cute. And I appreciate your honesty.”

Azriel smiled warmly, his heart thumping in his chest. He could still salvage this, maybe, so that his first interaction with a girl wouldn’t be a total failure.

As they stopped in front of the tables, he stepped back slightly to face her. “I think you’re cute too,” he said, meeting her gaze. He did his best not to sound shy or awkward. “You're very pretty.”

Her face lit up. “Thank you, Azriel.”

He was about to offer her some food when a group of kids suddenly weaved through the crowd and ran by. Azriel heard them coming and tucked his wings tightly, but Teagan either noticed them too late or couldn't fold her clipped wings any further.

The children bumped into her as they sprinted past, and she sucked in a sharp breath when one of them brushed her wing. Azriel was quick to grab her elbow to steady her, and something fluttered in his chest when she smiled in thanks. But then her gaze moved to his hand, still on her arm, and her eyes widened—in horror or shock, he couldn't tell.

He pulled his hand back as fast as he could, tucking it back into his pocket.

Too late.

Teagan swallowed, and the silence that stretched between them hit Azriel as painfully as a punch to the jaw.

“So,” he said eventually, feeling beyond awkward as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “What kind of food would—”

“I'm sorry,” she interrupted, already taking a small step back. Her eyes darted to the pocket where he’d hidden his hand before looking at him again. No warmth shone in them now. “But I forgot I had to… do something very important with my friend. Maybe another time.”

Azriel stood there, watching her turn and walk away without another glance. The rejection left him reeling. His mother could say whatever she wanted about his scars not being ugly or horrifying, but he now knew better than to believe her.

His hands balled into fists, and he took a deep breath, flexing his fingers. Without bothering to inform his brothers—who were probably on their way to sleep with yet another girl, since their hands were perfectly normal and unscarred—Azriel left the square. He put a few buildings between himself and the ongoing festivities before taking off to the skies.

He didn't return until long after the sun had set over the horizon.

~~~~~~

Azriel wished he could say he felt at least a bit bad for his half-brothers as Rhys and Cass threw punch after punch at their jaw and stomach. But all he felt while watching the scene unfold was a deep sense of satisfaction, which only grew with every new groan.

When Rhys had told him he needed to talk to his father for court matters, Azriel had refused to go. He had no interest in seeing his father or the rest of his family again, and Rhys had understood, asking Cassian to accompany him instead.

But Azriel had followed them. There was no reason for Cass to be there too, not when he was no good at playing courtier. He doubted Rhysand's father had told him to bring Cassian along.

Hidden in the shadows in the corner of the room, Azriel watched in silence as his brothers—his real ones, the only ones who mattered, as far as he was concerned—landed blow after blow. He knew now this was the real reason they'd come here.

Cassian had been itching for a fight from the moment they arrived and he didn't do a good job at hiding it. Azriel wasn't sure Cassian even tried to hide it. Rhys looked more composed, the perfect picture of the future High Lord dealing with minor problems of his Court. But as soon as Azriel's father had left, both of them had turned to his half-brothers with pure rage in their eyes.

One of them had been either bold or stupid enough to smirk. “How's our bastard brother doing?”

Rhysand and Cassian had both snapped. Despite being a few years older, his half-brothers didn't stand a chance. A warm feeling of affection was the only thing filling his chest as Azriel watched the two Illyrians who had taken him in, taught him how to fly, and showed him what a real family looked like, beat the shit out of whom was supposed to be his actual family.

He didn't make a sound, using his shadows to conceal even his scent. They were all too busy to pick up on it, even more so now that the metallic scent of blood filled the air, but he preferred to be careful.

Azriel didn't know exactly how much time had passed when Rhys and Cass finally relented, their chests heaving and their knuckles smeared with red. They straightened their backs, Cassian’s wings still spread in a fighting stance. Rhys, on the other hand, looked more relaxed, but his cold expression betrayed him.

“Don't you dare speak of him like that again,” Cassian snarled. His voice was just slightly breathless despite the beating he'd just given. “Especially after what you did to him.”

Azriel fought the urge to look down at his scarred hands. Being back in his father's keep was enough to stir memories he had long tried to forget. Instead, he focused on his brothers, on how much they must love him to risk hurting and threatening the sons of an Illyrian lord because of what they'd done to him.

Rhys exchanged a knowing glance with Cassian, and they turned to leave, abandoning his half-brothers on the floor. But they stood with a groan, battered and bloodied, still as arrogant as before. If not more so, now that they needed to make up for their bruised ego after being beaten so easily by a half-Illyrian and a low-born bastard.

One of them, the oldest, flared his wings as if trying to appear more intimidating. “He deserved it,” he spat.

Azriel had to stop himself from lunging forward and burying his own fist in his half-brother's stomach. He wanted to make him understand, to wave his hands in front of his face and yell at him. See this? This is what you did to me. I was eight! How could I have deserved it?

But he remained still, standing in the corner with his hands balled into fists so tight that his nails dug into his palms.

Rhysand held back Cassian as he tried to pounce on Azriel’s half-brothers. Cassian looked outraged, as if he couldn't understand why he suddenly wasn't allowed to fight. But Azriel could see the expression on Rhys's face and knew his brother had something different in mind.

“You think Azriel deserved it?” he asked, his voice unnervingly calm. He looked a lot like his father now—aware that he didn't need to raise his voice or his fists for people to obey.

“Well, fortunately for you, I can't show you exactly what I think you two deserve,” Rhys continued, slowly slipping his hands into his pockets. “But I can at least give you a taste of it.”

Before anyone could move, a crack pierced the air, immediately followed by a sharp cry of pain as his half-brothers both collapsed to the ground once more. Their legs lay beneath them at strange angles, the bone of one protruding where it had pierced the skin. The scent of blood grew stronger as the white tiles turned red.

His mother would have disapproved, Azriel knew that. She believed vengeance should not be sought out, and that living well in spite of what had happened was more than enough. Perhaps she was right, and Azriel was as bad and cruel as his half-brothers, after all. But as he stood there, watching them bleed and whine and scream for a healer who didn't come, all he felt was a deep sense of satisfaction, knowing that they now felt a fraction of the helplessness he had felt when they burned him.

Cassian crossed his arms, a feral grin spreading across his face. “Stop crying, boys,” he taunted. “It's not like you won't heal.”

The corner of Rhys's lips curled into a smirk. “I put a shield around the room. No one can hear you or smell the blood. I think I'll leave it in place and let you crawl out to ask for help.”

With a glance to Cassian, Rhys gestured toward the door in a silent command, and they walked out without sparing the two Illyrians another glance.

But Azriel stayed a few more moments. Just long enough to see his half-brothers try to rise, fail miserably, and fall back on the floor. When they began to crawl, using their hands to drag themselves across the floor, smearing their blood over the tiles and their clothes, Azriel smiled.

He didn't care if they were spouting insults at him and his brothers. He didn't care what kind of person that made him. The sight of his half-brothers crawling and bleeding delighted him.

With one last look at them, Azriel winnowed away, his heart full of love for the two brothers the Cauldron had blessed him with.

~~~~~~

It felt like centuries had passed since Azriel had last been this nervous around a girl. It had likely been over a hundred years, if not more, since he couldn't recall the last time he went on a date. Even longer since he’d had a genuine crush. Normally, he just approached girls, or they approached him, and things quickly escalated into a night of sex. But it was nothing more than that—just fucking.

With you, it was different.

He met you a couple of weeks ago when he walked into your little bookstore to buy a present for Nesta's birthday. You were so nice and radiant that he couldn't stop thinking about you, and he lost count of how many times he came, buying books he didn't need and asking for recommendations only to listen to you talk. And then he had finally asked you out, and your smile had lit up the whole shop as you said yes.

He was standing on the other side of the street, watching as you closed up the store for the day. Your dress flew around your legs in the evening breeze, and your hair was styled in a simple bun on your head.

Azriel smiled as you crossed the street. As usual, he had to hold back his shadows as they swirled excitedly around him. “You look lovely,” he said when you stopped in front of him.

“Thank you,” you replied quietly, lowering your gaze for a second before looking at him with a smile. “You're not too bad either.”

He chuckled softly. “Thank you.” Offering his arm, he gestured to the street. “Shall we?”

You looped your arm through his, and together you strolled along the Sidra, your steps unhurried.

Conversation flowed easily, and Azriel relaxed more as you talked about everything from your job to his preference for flying over winnowing. His shadows, which had lingered around his wings, vanished completely. But then you got to the little restaurant where he had reserved a table, and he grew nervous once more.

Even with your arms linked, your focus never drifted to his hands during the walk. Your eyes were either on him or your surroundings, making it easy to forget his marred skin.

Until you sat across from him and the food arrived. There was no way now you wouldn't notice his scars, which normally wasn't a problem—he'd stopped caring about strangers' opinions years ago. But you weren't a stranger, and you weren't just another girl he wanted to fuck.

You were sweet and beautiful, and he was drawn to you in a way he hadn't experienced in decades. He didn't want you to run away from him.

Maybe he shouldn't have taken you out to dinner on the first date, because now it was probably going to be the last one too.

Yet you didn't stare at his hands. You acted as if everything was normal, never commenting or asking what had happened to him. You carried on the conversation just like before, and when Azriel, hiding his distress behind a carefully crafted mask, asked you about a theater play you'd just mentioned, you launched into a passionate description of its plot and themes. His uneasiness slowly faded as he watched your eyes light up. You leaned closer over the table, so engaged in your story that Azriel found himself smiling and nodding along, only half listening, his worries about his hands momentarily forgotten.

Your voice suddenly trailed off mid-sentence, and you leaned back in your chair, tilting your head to the side. “What?” you asked with a soft smile. Before he could answer, you tensed and added, “I've done it again, haven't I? Rambling on about something you don't care about.”

Azriel shook his head, his hand itching to reach across the table and brush yours, though he held back. “Y/N,” he said, his voice quiet and reassuring. “I do care. I asked you that question. You just had that look on your face.”

Your brow furrowed. “What look?”

“The one you have when you talk about something you like,” he answered, watching your expression grow confused for a second. “You have it when you talk about books too.”

You were quiet for a moment, and then your eyes narrowed slightly. “Azriel,” you said slowly, but your lips twitched up in a smirk. “Did you ask for all those recommendations just to hear me talk?”

“Maybe,” he conceded, a faint blush creeping up his neck. His heart fluttered as your eyes met, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

He’d forgotten having a crush could feel like this—like being a boy again. Only now he knew what to do.

He’d never been much of a talker, preferring to listen and chime in occasionally, but with you, it was easy. You had your own way of involving him, asking questions or simply waiting for him to share his thoughts. Even though you barely paused, Azriel never felt like you were hogging the attention. On the contrary, you made him more at ease.

After you left the restaurant, you went strolling through the streets of Velaris. Azriel was just about to answer your question about how fast, exactly, an Illyrian could fly when you let out a delighted squeal, grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward a small bakery.

“Oh, I was waiting for this place to open!” You stopped in front of the window with a dreamy sigh before turning to look up at him. “I forgot it was today. Can we go in? Please, tell me you like pastries!”

Your enthusiasm was endearing, but Azriel couldn’t help glancing down at your hand still holding his larger, scarred one. You didn't seem to notice—or if you did, you didn’t care.

Your grip loosened slightly as you noticed the shift in his attention, but you didn't let go. “Sorry,” you said quietly, your eyes searching his face. “I got a bit carried away. Is this alright?”

He wasn't sure what to say. The lump in his throat made it hard to speak. That you had grabbed his hand without thinking was enough to leave him speechless, but what you were asking now… it wasn’t just that you weren't bothered by his scars. It was that you wanted to keep holding his hand. Azriel couldn't wrap his mind around it.

You probably misunderstood his silence because you started to pull back. He immediately held your hand tighter, gently squeezing it, as if to silently reassure you. “No, it’s okay,” he said quickly, his voice softer than usual. “I’m just…” Not used to it. “You caught me off-guard, that’s all.”

“I caught the spymaster off guard?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Should I be worried? Do we need to inform the High Lord?”

Azriel shook his head with a soft chuckle, his gaze lingering on you before he gestured toward the bakery. “Would you still like those pastries?”

Your eyes lit up, and Azriel made a mental note of how much you liked sweets. “Oh, yes, please!”

“Then let’s get you some, shall we?”

You walked past him as he held the door open for you, a grateful smile lighting up your face. Your hand remained entwined with his, and for once, Azriel didn’t feel the need to hide it.

You did not let go until he walked you home and you closed the front door behind you, and Azriel had never felt such lightness as he flew back to the House of Wind.

~~~~~~

Azriel sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands with a grimace on his face.

Someone had tried to infiltrate Velaris, likely sent from the Hewn City, and Azriel had been called to find out why. He could still recall the blood and the pleading whimpers. But in the end, he got the information he wanted. He always did.

At a cost.

He had long since learned to keep a cold expression, even in the face of the suffering he caused. He was used to it after centuries, and as long as it kept his city and family safe, he didn't care how cruel he had to become. Maybe it made him a horrible person, but his soul wasn't the cost.

The cost was his hands.

Even after all this time, being in the cells beneath the Hewn City was like being back in the cell in his father's mansion. He had to shut down every part of him that felt, bury those memories deep down in his mind, and remind himself that he wasn't a helpless child anymore.

He was a five-hundred-year-old warrior, and he had a job to do.

But once the job was done, and Rhys decided how to deal with the prisoner and the consequences, Azriel would go back to his room knowing he didn't have much time.

He would wash his bloodied hands, though he knew no matter how much he washed, he could never cleanse them completely. He had five centuries worth of blood on them. After they were clean, if he was lucky, like today, he had time to peel off his leathers before the inevitable happened.

The pain.

No matter how many times he’d been in those dungeons, no matter how many years had passed since he’d last been locked in his father’s cell, he still didn’t know how to stop the pain from returning.

It wasn’t as bad as it had been the first few times, and it was nothing compared to what he had felt while his hands were being burned and in the days after. But Azriel still gritted his teeth, a low hiss escaping from him.

He tried clenching them into fists, but the relief lasted only a few seconds before he had to relax them again. His fingers were stiff as he reached for the drawer, a fresh surge of stinging pain hitting him when he pulled it open. Shadows dove in before he could and quickly whisked up a small jar of white cream. They undid the lid, and Azriel felt grateful for the dark companions that had never once left his side now more than ever.

Willing his hands to cooperate, he scooped up some of the soothing balm a healer had made for him. It always took a little while for its effect to show, but pain was an old friend he had learned to live with.

The herbal scent filled the room as Azriel did his best to spread the balm over every inch of his hands, trying to ignore the stinging itch. Scratching would only make it worse, reddening his already scarred skin until it threatened to bleed again.

He shifted to lie on the bed, wings spread beneath him. He just had to endure the ache for a few more minutes before the balm took effect, and then he could try to sleep. He needed some rest after such a long day, if only to have a clear mind when he met you the next afternoon.

As his shadows hummed in his ear the Illyrian lullaby his mother used to sing him as a child, Azriel let his eyes drift close, flexing his aching fingers every few seconds, hoping for a faster relief.

~~~~~~

Things moved slowly with you.

Neither of you wanted to rush into anything and potentially ruin what you both knew could be the beginning of something great.

You went on several dates, and some ended with him spending the night at your apartment, snuggled up in your bed, which was too small for an Illyrian. Azriel didn’t care as long as he got to fall asleep with you in his arms.

But things had never gone this far.

When he came to your bookshop earlier, he had only planned to walk you home. You were tired from a long day dealing with customers, and he had to wake up early the next morning to leave for Illyria for a few days. Maybe it was the thought of not seeing you—even if only for a week—or the fact that you looked stunning in your simple dress, with strands of hair escaping from your messy bun. Whatever it was, Azriel wanted you. He needed you.

His lips parted from yours, both of you already breathing heavily. “I don't want to go home,” he murmured, his hands on your hips, twisting the thin fabric of your dress, wishing it weren't there.

“What do you want to do then?” you asked, amusement clear in your eyes. But there was desire there too, mirroring his own.

“I want to take off your dress,” he whispered, his fingers already moving to the straps on your shoulders. “Will you let me?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Take it off.”

With deft fingers, he slid the straps down your arms, and the fabric slipped off your body, pooling around your feet. You stepped out of it, and Azriel swallowed at the sight of you clad only in your cream underwear.

“If I had known we'd be doing this, I would have worn something more enticing,” you said quietly. There was no shyness or embarrassment in your voice, as if you were simply stating a fact. You did have a point—your lingerie was simple, something you wore every day. It didn't matter to Azriel.

He shook his head, stepping closer to you. “You don't need to,” he murmured. His hands cupped your face, tilting your head up to kiss you tenderly. “You're always stunning, sweetheart, no matter what you wear.”

You hummed, a smile playing on your lips. “Now I want to know what you think when I'm not wearing anything.”

Azriel chuckled, even as desire coiled in his groin. A part of him wanted to toss you on the bed and fuck you senseless. But most of all, he wanted to take his time exploring your body, finding every spot that made you squirm and sigh. Only after he'd thoroughly tasted you would he bury himself inside you.

“Let's find out,” he replied with a smirk, already knowing that, no matter what, you'd always be perfect in his eyes.

He reached behind you to unclasp your bra, and as he tossed it on the chair, he felt himself harden. Your breasts were full and supple, your pink nipples so inviting that he wanted to wrap his lips around them. Yet as he lifted a hand to touch you, he hesitated.

The stark contrast between your soft, smooth skin and his scarred fingers made him pause. He had touched you before, but never so intimately. How could he do that? His hands had so much blood on them. With how they looked, it felt only fitting he would use them for horrible things—to hurt people. Not to touch the wonderful girl he was falling for. How could he be so selfish as to sully you like that? You deserved so much better than him. Someone who didn’t torture and kill for a living, who didn’t have a dark past still haunting him.

Someone good.

He took a step back, lowering his hand.

“Azriel,” you called gently. There was no sign of judgment or disappointment in your voice. You just wanted him to look at you.

Slowly, his eyes met yours. To his astonishment, a soft smile bloomed on your lips.

“It’s alright,” you murmured, taking his hands in yours. He fought the urge to pull away. “You can touch me. I want you to touch me.”

He wanted to. More than anything. He wished he could.

“I shouldn’t,” he whispered.

“Why?”

How could he explain? He never told you what had happened to him. He didn’t want you to pity him or, even worse, to drive you away. Selfishly, he wanted to keep you in his life.

When he didn’t answer, your fingers slid around his wrists. Neither of you spoke as you lifted his hands to your mouth and kissed each scarred palm. Azriel’s throat worked, his heart pounding in his chest. Without a word, you placed his hands on your breasts. You let go of his wrists, giving him the freedom to pull away if he wanted to. But your eyes never left his, and that soft smile never faltered.

Azriel swallowed hard. For a moment, he just stood there, not pulling away but not moving either. Your face was open and serene, as if his scars didn’t bother you, even now that they were touching such an intimate part of your body.

Seeing you like this, so calm and accepting, so soft and warm under his palms… his thumbs moved, brushing over your nipples. You shivered, and he couldn’t stop himself from doing it again, feeling the small buds harden under his touch.

As if sensing his impending question, you nodded slightly. “You can touch me, Az.”

Though he knew it was wrong and still didn’t understand how you could want his bloodied, scarred hands on you, he gave you what you wanted—what you both wanted.

He slid one hand behind your neck, pulling you closer and kissing you again. The other remained on your breast, kneading the soft flesh, savoring every small sigh that escaped your lips. You leaned into him, your fingers tangling in his hair, deepening the kiss until Azriel’s control hung only by a thin thread.

When you pulled back, you didn’t give him time to lower his mouth to your neck. You grasped his hand, gently moving it away from your chest, and a wave of fear tightened in Azriel’s stomach. You had changed your mind. Of course you had. He should have seen it coming.

But instead of stepping away, you guided his hand down. Between your legs.

His breath caught as his fingers brushed against your panties, feeling the already damp fabric beneath his touch.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice almost too quiet to hear. “Are you sure?”

You were smiling again. “Yes. Please, Az.”

He didn’t know how to say no. He knew he should have, that he was unworthy of touching someone so pure and lovely. But you had already pushed the fabric aside, and he groaned as your slick arousal coated his fingertips. Before he even realized what he was doing, his fingers found your clit, drawing a soft moan from you.

The thin thread holding his control snapped at the sound, and Azriel let himself give in.

He pulled you closer, his eyes locked on yours as his fingers explored what they shouldn’t. At the first sign of hesitation or revulsion, he was ready to stop. But pleasure was the only emotion etched across your face, and he could see the desire for more burning in your eyes. Yet you were letting him set the pace, giving him time to accept your permission to touch you.

He slipped a finger between your folds, teasing your entrance before tentatively easing it inside, just a little.

Your hips bucked, and your voice came out as a needy whisper. “Please…”

Azriel hesitated for only a split second before pushing his finger all the way in. You were soft and warm, and you both groaned as your walls clenched around it. He couldn’t believe you were letting him do this, but he couldn’t stop now.

As he slowly pumped it in and out, your hips began to rock against his hand to match his movements. He watched in contemplation as your eyes fluttered close and your lips parted slightly, a breathy moan slipping out when he couldn’t resist the urge to add a second finger.

“Azriel…” you murmured. “Feels so good…”

The sound of his name on your lips sent a wave of heat through his body. His wings rustled quietly behind him, and his cock throbbed in his pants. He pulled his hand away, relishing your disappointed whimper.

You hadn’t run away from him. You didn’t let his scars intimidate you, or shape your opinion of him. You weren’t bothered by his marred fingers touching you; on the contrary, you craved them inside you. So why, despite the voice in his head whispering that he wasn’t worthy of it, should he deny you something you both wanted so badly? He wanted to taste you, to make you come on his fingers, and see how much pleasure they could bring you.

“I want to do this properly,” he murmured, gently guiding you to the bed. “Will you lie down for me, sweetheart?”

Your face lit up with a smile, and you slipped out of your panties. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you spread your legs, baring yourself to his hungry gaze.

As Azriel knelt between your parted thighs, he pushed every thought about his hands out of his mind, focusing only on the beautiful girl before him and the warmth settling in his heart.

~~~~~~

Azriel jolted awake, his chest heaving. He lifted his hands in front of him, the dim light of the moon casting shadows across them.

They were fine. Scarred as always, but fine.

He took a deep breath as he lay back down. It was just a nightmare—memories coming back to haunt him in his sleep every now and then. Even after centuries.

“Az?”

He cursed silently as you stirred beside him, turning to face him. He could see your struggle to open your eyes, your voice a sleepy mumble.

“Are you okay, love?”

“Yeah,” he whispered back, wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer. “Sorry I woke you.”

“It's alright.”

It always was with you. You never complained when his nightmares disrupted your sleep. He didn't have them as often since you'd moved in together, fortunately. Sleeping next to you helped, but it wasn't a cure.

“Did you have a nightmare?” you asked quietly. With your head resting on his chest, you could probably hear the rapid thumping of his heart. He willed it to slow.

“It's fine, sweetheart,” he sighed. He pressed a kiss to your hair, and his tone was softer when he spoke again. “Go back to sleep.”

You curled up against him, and he thought you might let it go. But instead, you continued to look up at him. “You know you can talk to me if you want.”

“I know,” he murmured. You’d always been there for him when he needed it. You had been since the moment you met a year ago, and he was grateful for it every single day. He couldn't wait for your mating ceremony in two weeks and prove once more how much you meant to him.

You shifted in his arms, and then your head was on the pillow next to his, your face only inches away from his. You reached for his hand and lifted it up to your lips, kissing his palm, his fingers, his knuckles.

Azriel watched in silence, a lump in his throat. His heart still raced, and he felt the sudden urge to cry. He didn't even need to tell you what he needed, what burdened him. You always knew. Even before the bond snapped, you'd understood him effortlessly.

“Your hands are fine,” you murmured against his marred skin. “And so are you. You're fine. They can't hurt you anymore.”

Azriel closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill. He buried his face in your neck, freeing his hand from your gentle grasp so that he could hold you tighter and press his body against yours. He draped his wings over you, unwilling to let go.

Your fingers stroke through his black curls. “I'm here, my love.” Your voice was soothing and soft, and Azriel felt like the helpless child he'd been five hundred years ago—needing reassurance, care, love. Maybe he would always need those things.

“You're here with me. You're safe now.”

He couldn't stop them, then. Tears slipped past his eyelids, rolling down his cheeks and dampening the skin of your neck. But your gentle caresses and soothing words never faltered.

“It's alright,” you whispered. Your warmth seeped into him, and he felt so cared for that even the last of his walls began to crumble. A broken sob tore through him.

“You're safe, my love.” You cradled his head against your neck, lips brushing his hair. “You can let it all out.”

Azriel did. You'd helped him through difficult moments before, but he had always held back because he didn't want to feel weak. He didn't want you to think he was weak. But if he’d learned anything from you, it was that crying didn't make him weak. That letting his feelings pour out through tears was better than burying them deep down for centuries.

So, he let them rise to the surface. The pain, the anger, the grief for the childhood he’d never had, the bitterness and frustration.

He had never cried about it before, but as he did, he could see it, for the first time in his life—a small light, a way out of the endless cycle of self-pity and hate he'd fallen into.

Maybe his mother had been right all those years ago. He was still healing, even after five centuries. He didn't know how much longer it would take, but maybe he’d reach a point when the nightmares stopped, his hands didn't hurt, and he could accept his scars. And maybe, one day, he wouldn't need his mother or his mate to remind him that his hands weren't ugly.

Azriel had no idea for how long you let him cry and sob in your arms. He had so many pent-up emotions, so much he still couldn't express, words he couldn't voice. But it was a start. And as exhaustion dragged him back to sleep, the weight on his chest, on his heart and soul, felt a little lighter.

Yet you still held him close, stroking his black curls long after he fell asleep.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

#azrielappreciationweek2024 #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel appreciation week #azriel fic #acotar #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #sjm #sarah j maas #angst #fluff #fanfiction

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fayes-fics · 1 day ago

Text

The Ballad of Blunt Pencil & Pizza Wheel

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Comedy texting fic. Childhood frenemies moving in together is a great idea. Isn't it?

Warnings: None really. Swearing, references to sex, masturbation, dirty talk and spanking. Frenemies to lovers. Comedy. A fuckton of sass. Bridgerton family shenanigans.

Word Count: 3.9k tricky with text fics ngl

Author's Note: Request fill for Anon (who wanted Ben and reader to have been secretly in love with each other and get together after she has a breakup). It might be slightly unusual, but it’s what the muse insisted on as a response. Thanks to the ever-patient @colettebronte, who willingly reads my silliness, including a partial version of this nonsense. Enjoy! <3

BB: *Fraggle Rock theme tune*

Y/N: Why don't you just say hello like a normal person? Y/N: *Insert sighing emoji here* (I can't be arsed to find it)

BB: Excuse me, this is actually a very supportive message BB: I heard from El you got dumped

Y/N: And how does an 80s kids' show theme song help me with that??

BB: Have you paid attention to the opening line??

Y/N: No…? Y/N: Too busy enjoying the rocking guitar tbh

BB: Fair BB: 🎶Dance your cares away, worries for another day🎶 BB: See?? supportive

Y/N: You are so weird Y/N: And also oddly accurate. He was a total muppet

BB: It’s taken you 30 years to figure that out?? BB: Sorry to hear it

Y/N: No, just… appreciating it. Well, you Y/N: Thank you, by the way

BB: 🫶😀

—

3 weeks later

Y/N: What is the capital of Burundi? Pub quiz is getting fractious

BB: Why don't you cheat like every other team and just use Google? BB: Why bother old friends?

Y/N: Oh, I'm sorry, Mr Charisma, I didn't realise your Tuesday night was so busy

BB: Friends don't leave friends who love pub quizzes out of their pub quiz teams 😛

Y/N: You're cute when you sulk Y/N: So… the answer?

BB: I’m not Jeeves BB: Look it up yourself

Y/N: Wow, you really are such a blunt pencil

BB: ??

Y/N: Pointless

BB: Alright, pizza wheel

Y/N: ??

BB: All edge, no point

Y/N: *has left the conversation*

BB: Typing it doesn't make it happen

Y/N: *HAS LEFT THE CONVERSATION*

BB: Neither does yelling it pizza wheel

Y/N: Don't make me call you pencil boy…

—

5 weeks later

Y/N: Pencil boy, it happened again

BB: Yeah… definitely don't like that BB: What did?

Y/N: Send TV theme…

BB: *Fraggle rock theme intensifies*

Y/N: Thank you

BB: No problems BB: Sorry to hear it

Y/N: Me too. Really thought this one would stick Y/N: He even liked my Cabbage Patch kids

BB: You still have that shit?! BB: They are low-key terrifying

Y/N: He did turn them all around when we had sex though 🤔

BB: Got his number?

Y/N: Why??

BB: Sort of agree with him on that. Might want to be his friend, not yours

Y/N: Shut up, Pencil Boy

BB: Pizza Wheel BB: We have to stop flirting like this 👀

Y/N: Pffft Y/N: This isn’t flirting

BB: Isn’t it?

Y/N: Are your clothes still on?

BB: Well, yeah…

Y/N: Then it’s not my style of flirting

BB: Bit slutty (supportive)

Y/N: The brackets saved you there, Pencil Boy

BB: Well aware BB: You’ll be okay. There’s someone better out there for you BB: Someone who appreciates Cabbage Patch kids

Y/N: THANK YOU. Was that so hard?

—

4 days later

Y/N: Can I call you?

BB: Yes of course BB: What’s wrong?

Y/N: Best explained over the phone

BB: Okay. I’m here BB: Whatever you need

2 hours later

Y/N: Thank you friend Y/N: Just… thank you

BB: Anytime 🧡 BB: I meant what I said BB: If you need it, it’s yours

Y/N: You are a great and wonderful friend Y/N: I may well do so 🧡

BB: You are always welcome here. For as long as you need

Y/N: 🫂😘

—

1 day later

CB: You invited Y/N to move in with you?!?!

AB: 😳 Surely not?!?! AB: He can only have one colossally bad idea a week and that hoodie was a choice

BB: Good evening to you too brothers BB: Hope you’re well BB: I'm fine, thanks. You?

CB: Yeah yeah whatever CB: I don't see a denial here

BB: 🤷

AB: You fucking idiot

BB: Why? I’m trying to help a friend here BB: I thought it was a nice thing to do?

CB: It is

AB: Usually

CB: There’s just one problem

AB: You are completely in love with her and have been since you were 5

BB: Pffft BB: Please…

CB: That’s your denial?? CB: Even I could do a more convincing job than that

BB: Pen would suggest otherwise…

AB: Don’t fling mud to distract AB: We are talking about your stupidity atm, not his

CB: Oi

AB: Don’t even

BB: Listen… she just got dumped for the 100th time BB: Her flatmate is moving out cos they lost their job BB: She can’t afford the rent on her own or a place by herself at the moment cos she’s still burdened with debt resettlement from her criminal asshat ex from 2 years ago BB: She needs to be in London for her job and her parents have moved to Wales BB: What would you have done?

CB: Tell her to move in with El? CB: Or literally any of her other friends?!

BB: Well I have a spare room…

AB: So does El

BB:

AB: Memes? Really?

CB: You’re just jealous cos you can’t figure out text attachments

AB: Shut up

CB: Kate thinks it’s hilarious

AB: Leave my wife out of this

*BB has left the group*

*AB added BB back into the group*

AB: You don’t get to quit being our brother

BB: Shame

3 minutes later

CB: Wait… What did you mean about Pen?

AB: How can you be this stupid? I paid for you to go to Eton…

*BB has left the group*

AB: Can’t fault him this time tbh

*AB has left the group*

CB: Rude…

—

1 week later

EB: I have a spare room y'know

Y/N: I’m aware

EB: So why subject yourself to Ben?

Y/N: You are all so horrible about each other

EB: And you love to watch it

Y/N: 🤷‍♀️🍿 Y/N: Anyway, I’m here now Y/N: He bought new bedding for me 🥹 Y/N: I didn’t have the heart to tell him I already have 4 sets

EB: I know he’s my brother and thus deserving of shit. But don’t torture him too much

Y/N: What the fuck are you talking about?

EB: I suspect he has a leeedle crush on you tbh

Y/N: Pffft Y/N: No he doesn’t Y/N: All we do is call each other names and snark Y/N: It’s been that way since 1994. I don’t see it changing anytime soon

EB: It’s like she’s never read Shakespeare

Y/N: That’s BenedicK, not BenedicT

EB: Funny how you knew exactly what play I was referring to, Beatrice

5 seconds later

Y/N: Gen… Is Ben into me?!

GD: What’s brought this on?

Y/N: Answer the question!

GD: Why are you asking me if my ex likes you?

Y/N: Please… You fucked like twice 3 years ago and are still friends Y/N: Don’t pretend there is any trauma here Y/N: I’d really like to know, seeing as I’ve just moved in with him

GD: You fucking did WHAT?! GD: Why?!

Y/N: I needed a new place Y/N: He was the first to offer

GD: What kind of rash reason is that?! GD: I have a spare room GD: El has a spare room GD: Dave and the gambling debts in your name weren’t bad enough…? GD: It’s like you’re actively trying to live in a Greek tragedy, I swear

Y/N: Don’t invoke that shit’s name

GD: Sorry GD: But really…

Y/N: So you’re saying he’s into me

GD: For an intelligent woman, you know fuck all GD: Even about yourself

Y/N: Why are all my friends so rude to me?!

GD: Bitch please. You are so in love with him

Y/N: I’m not

GD: Yes you are GD: He’s always the first person you text when you have a breakup

Y/N: Yeah… cos he’s the only one of my friends who ISN'T RUDE TO ME

GD: OR you always want him to be the first to know you’re single again

Y/N: Not sure I want to be your friend anymore

GD: Fine. Give me back my Canada Goose coat

Y/N: Let's not be too hasty now…

—

2 days later

BB: Do we have milk?

Y/N: How should I know? I don’t drink the stuff

BB: Aren’t you working from home today?

Y/N: Yeah? And?

BB: You have these amazing things called legs…

Y/N: I have a block button too y’know

BB: You wouldn't block the hero who single-handedly removed 2 spiders from your room last night

Y/N: … … Fiiiiine

20 seconds later

Y/N: We, or rather YOU, could do with some more

BB: Okay. Thank you

Y/N: If you’re in the mood, I wouldn't say no to some cheesecake

BB: I’m not in the mood BB: Mostly because you are lactose intolerant and won't stop bitching about the regret afterwards BB: I’ll get you some non-dairy brownies

Y/N: What kind of flatmate are you?

BB: The awful kind who looks out for your best interests

Y/N: Urghhh, the very worst

—

3 days later

Y/N: Bennnnnnn!! BEN!! SOS!!! Y/N: ANOTHER 🕷️

BB: It’s fucking 3am

Y/N: That's why I texted Y/N: So much politer than screaming and banging on your wall Y/N: It’s not my fault you live on some kind of spider superhighway Y/N: I never would have moved in here if I knew

BB: It’s harmless. Go back to sleep

Y/N: What about if this time it’s some poisonous one that crawled from a Shein package? And you wake up to a dead flatmate?

BB: Arguably, that’s appropriate payback for your endorsement of such a horrendous company

Y/N: I don't judge you for your odd shelf of little rocks Y/N: So don’t judge me for my sparkly shoe addiction

BB: How about I lend you a rock to throw at the spiders?

Y/N: How could you?!? I don't wish death upon them Y/N: Just for them to live their lives nowhere within my vicinity Y/N: You know you would have been back to sleep by now if you had just come in here?

BB: I’m aware BB: I have no idea why I’m still arguing with you on text BB: Slightly worried what that says about me tbh

Y/N: IT’S MOVING TOWARDS ME

BB: omw

—

9 days later

KB: You guys need to stop

Y/N: What? Y/N: Why are you texting from my kitchen?

KB: Look at yourself KB: It’s not your kitchen. It’s my brother-in-law’s

Y/N: I live here too, Kate

KB: And you need to stop

Y/N: STOP WHAT?

KB: Do you see where your feet are?

Y/N: ??On the sofa??

KB: They are in Ben’s lap

Y/N: And??

KB: He has his hands wrapped around your ankles

Y/N: And?? Y/N: I get cold. He helps me sometimes

KB: When are you guys going to admit to what is happening here

Y/N: NOTHING IS HAPPENING

KB: Sure Jan

Y/N: Get back over here with the Monster Munch. I need Netflix snacks, not judgement

KB: I’m just saying… I pulled this shit with Ant and you rightly called me on it

Y/N: MONSTER MUNCH KATE

KB: Don’t glare over at me like that. Way to make it fucking obvious…

2 seconds later

*BB added KB and Y/N to a new group*

BB: What are you two arguing about?!

Y/N: Mind ya business, Pencil Boy

KB: Your lack of decent snacks

BB: Not my area. She is responsible for all junk food purchases in this household. I will not be held liable.

3 seconds later

KB: Pencil boy??

Y/N: It's a long story

4 seconds later

*AB added KB, BB & Y/N to a new group*

AB: ARE WE WATCHING THIS FUCKING FILM OR NOT?!

—

1 month later

Y/N: Gen… I fucked up

GD: What did you do??

Y/N: I should never have moved in here

GD: Yeah, I told you that weeks ago GD: Why the sudden revelation?

Y/N: He has a girl here

GD: And?

Y/N: I can hear them… thru the wall

GD: Yikes GD: Go for a walk or something

Y/N: No Gen. It's worse Y/N: So much worse Y/N: I can hear what he is saying

GD: GO FOR A WALK

Y/N: Gen help Y/N: Help Y/N: H.E.L.P. Y/N: It's turning me on…

GD: I DIDN'T NEED TO KNOW ANY OF THIS!

Y/N: I had no idea he was a dirty talker

GD: I could have told you that…

Y/N: Why didn't you?!

GD: Why would that ever be relevant to our friendship?!

Y/N: You know that’s my weakness Y/N: You should have WARNED ME

GD: HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO PREDICT YOU WOULD EAVESDROP ON HIM HAVING SEX?!

Y/N: This is so awful Y/N: I don't know what to do Y/N: I’m in a quandary Y/N: A damp quandary

GD: Eww T-M-FUCKING-I

Y/N: I might as well just masturbate at this point

GD: I am hanging up on this text thread GD: I’m also off to put this phone in Dettol. Don't text me again for another few days

—

2 days later

BB: Why are you avoiding me?

Y/N: I’m not

BB: Yes you are BB: You haven't been home the last two nights BB: El said you’ve been hanging around her place

Y/N: Ok fine. I am Y/N: This is so awkward Y/N: I… I heard you Y/N: Having sex Y/N: I’m weirded out, okay?

BB: Shit… BB: I’m so sorry BB: I thought you were out on a date

Y/N: It got rescheduled

BB: I'm so sorry BB: Next time I have company, I will double-check if you are home first

Y/N: Thank you Y/N: I will do the same

BB: Much appreciated BB: So, will you come home? BB: There’s a new series of The Cleaner tonight

Y/N: It's not real blood, you know?

BB: I know, but it looks like it

Y/N: You can't keep hiding behind me. You miss key plot points. It's a comedy show, you know

BB: Just get back here, Pizza Wheel

Y/N: Calm down, Pencil Boy I’m on my way

—

9 days later

BB: Send him home

Y/N: ??

BB: You heard me

Y/N: Why are you eavesdropping on my Tinder hookup?

BB: Don’t make me come in there and be a caveman about this. Just… BB: SEND HIM HOME

Y/N: I need sex

BB: Not from a twat like that you don’t BB: When he is out of the bathroom, I want you to send him away

Y/N: … Fine

3 minutes later

BB: Thank you

Y/N: You owe me a bloody orgasm

BB: He was likely incapable of giving you one BB: When you are sober, you will thank me BB: And probably regret that last comment

Y/N: I regret nothing Y/N: I DARE you Benedict fucking Bridgerton Y/N: I fucking DARE you to give me an orgasm

4 hours later

Y/N: Gen Gen Gen GENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN Y/N: I know it's 2am, you are probably asleep, but I have to tell you smthg right the fuck nowwww Y/N: So, Ben went all protector shit on a loser I picked up on Tinder Y/N: Made me throw him out Y/N: I bitched that he owed me an orgasm Y/N: Might have been a bit too sassy, too many drinks Y/N: Anyway GENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN Y/N: GENNNNNNNNNNNNNNN Y/N: He stomps into my room, and god, he just…. Y/N: ARGHHHHHHHH Gen, he just took me, like respectfully, but also not at all respectfully Y/N: HE GAVE ME TWO Y/N: I am floating on a cloud. I can't feel my fucking knees Y/N: My flatmate is the best fuck I have EVER had Y/N: THIS IS TERRIBLE AND WONDERUL Y/N: I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MY LIFE Y/N: HELP Y/N: PS Pls don't tell anyone

20 seconds later

BB: Stop freaking out about what just happened and come back to bed

Y/N: Ben we just…

BB: I know. Active, enthusiastic participant here BB: Don’t spiral about it. Just come back to bed BB: We can talk in the morning

Y/N: Did we just ruin everything?

BB: How is that not spiralling? BB: Get your lovely arse out of the bathroom and back in this bed, y/n, or istg I will spank it

Y/N: 😲🥵

BB: Oh I see. Hmm BB: Good to know 😜

—

5 hours later

GD: WHAT THE SERIOUS FUCK?!?!?!?! GD: THIS IS WHAT I WAKE UP TO?! GD: WHY DO YOU LIVE LIKE THIS?!? GD: CALL ME!!!!

2 hours later

EB: Why aren’t you at work today? Are you sick? EB: Did the Shein spider get you?

1 hour later

EB: I guess it did EB: Serves you right 😛

1 hour later

GD: WHY THE FUCK HAVEN’T YOU CALLED ME BACK YET? GD: I must have left like 10 missed calls by now

2 hours later

AB: Not to sound like a total dick, I know we’re family etc., but you are supposed to tell me if you’re taking a day off work Ben AB: Even nepo babies have some responsibilities

30 minutes later

KB: Why are Gen and El wondering where you are? KB: Text them, and also me now, too KB: I’m vaguely concerned but mostly nosey tbh

2 hours later

EB: ?????????

1 hour later

GD: Call me bitch.

2 hours later

CB: Where the fuck are you Ben? CB: You never miss boys' night down The Ship normally?

30 mins later

Y/N: Uh hi 👋 Y/N: Sorry… Y/N: I uhh have been busy today

EB: Gen and I were ABOUT TO SEND OUT A SEARCH PARTY

Y/N: Please tell her I’m okay Y/N: I will call. Just not now

EB: Where are you?

Y/N: At home

EB: I am coming over!

Y/N: Please don’t

EB: Why not?

Y/N: Another time Y/N: I know I’m being all mysterious and shit Y/N: I will explain everything I promise

EB: Is Ben there?

Y/N: Yes

EB: Then tell him to look after you EB: I’m weirded out, you weirdo

Y/N: Oh he will Y/N: I promise you he will Y/N: I errr won't be at work tomorrow either. Can you tell the boss?

EB: Are you sick?!

Y/N: Umm… yeah, let's go with that

EB: STOP BEING SO WEIRD

5 seconds later

BB: El, y/n is fine

EB: How is this any of your business?

BB: You literally asked for me to look after her 5 seconds ago

EB: How do you know that?! EB: Are you reading her texts?!

BB: She is showing them to me

EB: WHY!?! EB: What is this cloak and dagger shit?! EB: Did you fuck or something? Lol

1 minute later

EB: DID YOU?!?

1 minute later

EB: Y/N DID YOU FUCK MY BROTHER?!?

1 minute later

*EB added BB & Y/N to a new group*

EB: Answer me, you sneaky bitches

BB: We would appreciate some privacy at this time

10 seconds later

*EB added KB, AB, CB, PF, DB and SB to a new group*

EB: BEN AND Y/N ARE FUCKING

SB: Hello sister-in-law. Long time no chat. So lovely for us to catch up this way

EB: Don’t sass me Bassett

PF: Err okay. Why… why am I on this Bridgerton family chat?

EB: Bitch please, you are family. Well, you will be soon

PF: ??

*CB removed PF from the group*

AB: Subtle

DB: Super smooth

*EB added PF to the group*

EB: IS NO ONE GOING TO RESPOND TO THIS LIFE-ALTERING NEWS?

KB: I mean… we all knew it was going to happen

CB: Surprised he held out this long tbh

DB: He’s been in love with her since we were kids

EB: I thought he just fancied her a bit?!?!

AB: And they call ME the unobservant one?!

*PF left the group*

CB: Look what you did

*EB added PF to the group*

KB: Why did I marry into this family?

SB: I’ll take you for a drink sometime. You too Pen.

PF: ??

EB: You’re all useless.

—

2 days later

GD: *sings Where Do You Go by No Mercy tunelessly in your general direction* GD: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yt-KMPvgKPo

Y/N: Awful but also bangin cheese choon for a Sunday evening ngl

GD: SHE LIVES!! GD: El seemed to think you have been having nonstop sex since Thursday. GD: She’s also not handling that idea very well—lots of tequila.

Y/N: Not enough songs only have about 7 lyrics anymore. I miss the 90s.

GD: Avoiding that statement, huh?

Y/N: I will not dignify it with a response

GD: So that’s a yes

Y/N: 👀

8 days later

BB: I hate having a job 😘

Y/N: Me too… 😘 Y/N: I’ll be naked when you get home if that's any consolation

BB: I’m leaving now

Y/N: It’s only 11am lol Y/N: Stay there. I will see you later. It will be worth the wait. ��

BB: You have been. BB: And I don't just mean today 😘

Y/N: 🥹 😘

56 days later

AB: Is this email for real?

BB: Yes. Yes, it is

AB: Wow. OK then AB: Congratulations

BB: Thank you. I'm very happy

AB: We can tell, brother, we can tell

1 hour later

*KB added Y/N, SB & PF to a new group*

KB: Y/N, we meet every Wednesday for drinks.

SB: Welcome to the fam, soon-to-be Mrs Bridgerton. It sucks; you are going to love it.

PF: Still not sure why I'm invited, but god, you guys are so much bloody fun I don't even care, lol.

10 seconds later

Y/N: Are you going to tell Pen, or should I?

KB: Naaahhh. It's more fun this way KB: Another very smart woman with a complete Bridgerton brother blindspot

Y/N: That sounds pointed

KB: You and me both, sister. You and me both.

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tinfoil-jones · 1 day ago

Text

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 10

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

WARNING: This is a long chapter

First - Prev - Next

Ch.10

“Do you remember how you came to Gravity Falls in the first place?”

“I was just passing by.”

“Yes, but this town is isolated, and you have no means of transportation.”

“Trainhopping, I was hiding on a train for two days I think, maybe three? Decided to jump off here.”

“Do you know why you decided to do that here, and not anywhere else?”

“...”

“Stan?”

“It’s funny, specs - a couple months back, I’d already been with my pal Rick for a while, right? Just one heist, escapade, or criminal venture after another, for seven months straight. And it was great while it lasted, but then he asked me if I wanted to stay with him in another dim- someplace far away. And I wanted to, ya know? There’s always been this itch in the back of my mind that I wanted to go around the world on some grand adventure, and he was offering that to me on a silver platter. But I told him no.”

“And why was that, Stan?”

“...It’s stupid.”

“I wouldn’t call any of your reasoning stupid, I’m not here to judge you.”

“...I always wanted to go on an adventure- but something was missing. It’s like- I dunno if it’s intuition or some spiritual mumbo jumbo, it’s like I’m looking for something. But I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“Do you have an idea what it could be?”

“A part of… me? I’m missing something. Not just my memories- but something else. I think I might have made a promise, I just… don’t remember what it was, or who I promised to. I guess I’ve been drifting around trying to find it.”

“And you felt it was in Gravity Falls?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. There’s something weird here… I just wanted to check this place out, is all.”

“I see. What did you say your relationship with this Rick was like?”

“You don’t need to be jealous, F. We were just friends. Okay, maybe we were kind of an item for a week at most, but that guy isn’t just self-destructive; he’s like a train that wrecks onto a freeway, he can never just destroy himself, he has to wreck the people around him too and create an absolute shit show. Even I have a limit with that shit.”

“You really need to stop putting yourself down like that, Stan. You only ever seem to say negative things about yourself, it ain’t good for you.”

“There isn’t anything good to say, stretch.”

“Don’t sell yourself one egg short of a basket, now. Y’know, your-. Uh, Stanford was telling me that you’re quite clever. He used a trick to get you down here in the first place, but he also said that he wouldn’t be able to trick you again.”

“I should have seen his fake-out coming… I’ll give it to him, it was a good one. But I’m not going to underestimate him, because crazy like his should never be underestimated. What’s he up to anyways? He went to that room that’s always locked.”

“That’s his private study. I believe he goes there when he wants to be alone.”

“...Didn’t he live by himself? Why did he already have that?”

“Can’t say, maybe it’s a quiet and calm space for him.”

(...)

“HE HAS RISEN BABY GIRL.”

“Bill, please stop calling me that. It’s unprofessional.”

“Come on Sixer, at least let the Goo Goo Dolls soundtrack play.”

“The what?”

“Ooop! My bad, it’s not 1998 or 2024 yet. How can I help you today, Fordsy? You haven’t called me in a few weeks.”

“There’s a mindscape I need to access.”

“Oh boy, it’s not usually you who wants to poke around other humans' brains, always prattling on about ethics and consent. What’s the occasion?”

“...You know everything I know when we’re in the mindscape, you already know the answer.”

“Yes, but I still want you to say it out loud. Clearly and concisely, so your dialogue can be read on screen.”

“... I need to get into the mind of my brother, Stanley. He has amnesia, and our leading theory is that it’s due to psychological trauma. But he has been through so much trauma we’re having trouble isolating the definitive event that would have started this.”

“And why wouldn’t he just share that with his beloved twin brother?”

“He does not remember me.”

“Oooh, then he is just like you! Isn't it just precious when twins are twinning?”

“I never forgot about him.”

“Oh Sixer… You might as well have.”

“Just take me to his mind, Cipher… Please.”

“Anything for you, baby boy!”

SNAP

(...)

“So your memories are only clear to a certain point?”

“Yeah. Rick found me wandering around the woods in a ‘catatonic state’, and snapped me out of it. Everything before that… I can remember being on the street, I can remember all the stuff I did, maybe out to a decade? But there’s a lot of holes, lotsa different names I used. And before the streets? Nothing.”

“And when did Rick find you in the woods?”

“What month is it?”

“June.”

“Last May - so about 13 months?”

(...)

“Okay Fordsy he hasn’t made a deal with me so we can’t go too deep, or his mental defenses are just gonna shove us out.”

“Bill, I already know that, why are you explaining it to me?”

“You know; doesn’t mean they know. Unless this is a re-read. In which case; welcome back. Glad you loved or hated it the first time.”

“You are… Beyond comprehension, Bill Cipher.”

“That’s what you love about me though.”

“You have my begrudging, professional respect.”

“From your aspec ass, that’s practically love.”

“Aspe-”

“Oooh! Lookie here, a memory door opened up. He must be opening up to someone right now. Let's barge in haphazardly.”

(...)

“Okay Stan, this might be difficult. But if you ever feel distressed, let me know and we can try grounding techniques okay?’

“You got it, F.”

“Now close your eyes, think back to when you and Rick parted ways.”

(...)

“Sanchez?! How does Stan know-.”

“You know this hilarious crossover character? I already know the answer, but for no particular reason I need you to tell me out loud how you know him.”

“His wife Diane was part one of my PhD programs. She was always so bright and pleasant, but her husband was a nightmare when she brought him around. He was always saying that school wasn’t for smart people, and rubbed his inventions and intelligence in our face.”

“And how is she these days?”

“She passed away from a garage fire a few years ago, her and her little girl. I almost sent him a condolences, but he was such an unpleasant asshole I could not make myself do so.”

“Come on Stan- think about it! You, me, Bird Person, Squanchy- sci-fi adventures, drugs, bitches. Whattaya say? Let’s ditch this dimension, there isn’t anything for us here anymore.”

“Dimension-?”

“Shh, Fordsy, just let it play out.”

“I… I can’t Rick.”

“Why not?”

“There’s… something here.”

“Did you remember something?”

“I don’t remember who, but I think I’m looking for someone.”

“Stanny-Boy, we’ve been through this before. No one knows you, everywhere we’ve been, ‘cept for the fake names. You should just cut your losses.”

“Wherever we go, we go together.”

“What was that-?”

“Just the distorted voice of his subconscious. It’s probably not important.”

“I’m sorry. But there’s a piece of me missing, and I think it’s still here in this dimension somewhere.”

“You know your credits don’t have monetary value here.”

“I know.”

“And I can’t leave you a space cruiser. You’ll have to walk or steal a car.”

“Either is fine. I’ve done it before.”

“Stan… Are you sure?”

“Here. Take all my credits, you’ll get more out of it than me.”

“You want your dusters back?”

“Trade me.”

“Wait, you don’t want your transdimensional watch anymore?”

“If the pigs catch me, I don’t need them asking too many questions.”

“You know that doesn’t just give you dimensional coordinates and time zones, right? There’s a pulse wave in it that can shatter force fields.”

“Pft, what are the chances I’d ever need that?”

“Ooof, he really fumbled the bag there.”

“My muse, please.”

*Rick takes the watch and gives Stan a pair of brass knuckles*

“Thanks Rick… Hey, it was nice while it lasted.”

“Hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“I hope you find that bastard, Prime. Give him the hell he deserves.”

“...Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck you.”

“I’ll miss you too, pal.”

(...)

“Alright, how are you feeling Stan?”

“So far so good.”

“Okay, now let’s go further back. You said your first clear memory is when you met him, let’s go back to that.”

“I was in the back of his shi- iiitty car, I felt like I’d just smoked an entire carton of cigarettes, but in a bad way..”

(...)

“It just- stopped?”

“He’s remembering something else. Just look for another door.”

“Here we go.”

“Wha- where…?”

“Oh hey you’re awake.”

“-’re, you?”

“You’re one tough son of a bitch, y’know? Most of the people I tase end up dead, but you just passed out.”

“You… tased me? Are you a cop?”

“Hell no. I tased you because you attacked me in the woods. Damn near ripped my head off.”

“The woods..?”

“You were wandering around in a catatonic state, can’t tell you how long.”

“A what state?”

“This isn’t going anywhere. Can you tell me your name?”

“It’s…? I... Malone. Wait. It’s- Stan.”

“Stan Malone huh? My name’s Rick Sanchez.”

(...)

“Stan keep your eyes closed. I want you to try to remember what happened before this.”

“Alright…”

“What’s something you can remember? Something you saw, felt, heard?”

“My chest felt really tight…”

(...)

“What is this?”

“Ahh. A pit memory. This is something his brain wants to forget, but can’t permanently delete.”

“So it is a repressed memory?”

“Yes. He’s trying to think about it… but unconsciously, he really doesn’t want to.”

“What happens if we jump in?”

“Sixer, where's your sense of adventure? If it gets too dangerous I’ll just pull us out.”

“Do you swear?”

“Just gimme the word.”

“Which word?”

“Let’s go with ‘defenestrate’ this time.”

‘W̷̷H̷̷Y̷ ̷I̷̷S̷̷N̷'̷T̷ ̷I̷̷T̷ ̷W̷̷O̷̷R̷̷K̷̷I̷̷N̷̷G̷?! ̷W̷̷H̷̷Y̷-?’

S̷̷C̷̷R̷̷E̷̷E̷̷C̷̷H̷

‘̷C̷̷a̷̷n̷’̷t̷-’

‘̷t̷̷r̷̷a̷̷p̷̷p̷̷e̷̷d̷’

‘̷c̷̷a̷̷n̷’̷t̷ ̷b̷̷r̷̷e̷̷a̷̷t̷̷h̷̷e̷-’

*brief flash of a pile of burnt paper ash in Stan’s hands, which are shaking*

“We can’t stay here Fordsy, he’s closing up again.”

“Just one more second-!”

“Might as well, it’s [--- ---- ------ - ---].”

“[--- ---] going to die here. Stan[--- -------- -----], if you don’t [---- - ---- ---- --] in the next minute you will die.”

“That voice-?”

“We’re leaving now, Sixer! DEFENESTRATE!”

SNAP

(...)

“Stan? Stan calm down-! It’s okay! Remember where you are.”

“C-Can’t breathe-”

“Yes you can, just breathe with me. In- out. In- out. Just like that. There we go.”

“I’m sorry Fiddleford, I can’t do it. I can’t. I can’t. ”

To be continued…

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polaris-likethestar · 2 days ago

Text

how to get your man back: a step-by-step guide by raven - chapter one

hiii so i wrote another story, its a raven x hank fake dating high school au where popular cheerleader raven uses nerdy teen hank to get her boyfriend erik back after he dumps her (raven/hank and charles/erik endgame).

side note this was supposed to be a crack fic but then i took it a bit too seriously so now raven's annoying but in a weird way, sorry about that:) enjoy !!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Its not everyday that your your angsty, bad boy, literal walking-talking-breathing-version-of-a-love-interest-in-a-romance-novel boyfriend of two months, two weeks and four days breaks up with you over phone call. Like, he didn’t even have the audacity to tell you in person?? Okay, so his parents are like super European (he just moved from Germany) and maybe that means that their too strict to let him go visit his girlfriend past nine pm but still. They would have had to understand this was an urgent matter. Your heart was on the line!

Now, naturally you’d be upset and have your brother drive to the nearest whole foods to get your favorite cotton candy ice cream. But, what’s different about you and other people your age who happen to get broken up with over a phone call is that you are not just going to sit there and let your ex have the last laugh. No. Not happening. You are going to come up with a master plan, something no one would have ever assumed you were capable of doing. You’re going to make him so jealous, so furious with….furiousty that he wants you back. But here’s the thing: you’re not going to take him back. Not at first anyway. Give it time. Let the anger really seep through.

This is currently Raven’s plan. And now, you may be wondering, how exactly is she going to execute this plan? Simple. She’s going to find a new man, pay him an absurd amount of money to agree to be her fake boyfriend and take it from there.

And Raven already knows exactly who she wants this new “boyfriend” to be. Enter Hank Mccoy, the smartest kid in the school.

Now, Raven realizes how cliché this is. The popular cheerleader (her) and the nerd (him). They would never actually date on their own, only if there’s some sort of scheme involved. But that’s what’s so smart about it: no one is going to even suspect that she might be up to something. It’s too obvious. And it’s not like she was going to fall in love with Hank by the end…right? Right. Obviously.

So, when her brother returns with the ice cream, 32 minutes later (which, how bad is traffic at this late on a Wednesday night? They live in Westchester, not Los Angeles) she tells him the plan. “Charles, this is so smart, I’m going to have him back in no time.” He sat down next to her on her pink fuzzy rug. “Well, Raven, that’s lovely, but do we know why exactly he broke up with you in the first place?”

Huh. Raven hadn’t asked. Maybe she should have. “Well, I can’t call him now.” She shrugged. “It’s fine, whatever the reason is, he’ll forget about it.” Charles just nodded. Okay, so maybe his intellectual self thought that Raven was being a little bit delusional, but he’ll get it eventually. He has to. It wasn’t so long ago that he was stalking some guy he just met, taking the bus in the opposite direction just to follow him. Then one day he just stopped. Raven never actually found out why. But she wasn’t going to end up like her brother, she wasn’t going to just stop. He was probably just scared. But not Raven. She was going to get exactly what she wanted.

“Okay, well, how do you plan on getting Hank to agree with this?” Charles asked. “Well, aren’t you both on the mathletes? You know him.” Raven said. “He knows who I am. Tell him I want to talk to him. I mean, he’s like, scared of me. He literally wrote my whole essay for finals last year because I asked him to- and don’t look at me like that, Charles, I wasn’t trying to repeat 10th grade again.”

Charles just sighed. “Well, I suppose I could ask him to meet you during lunch time tomorrow. But be sensible about this, Raven, this could end up going really wrong.” Raven just shook her head. “Yeah, but it could end up going really right. Like, me and Erik could get married and have like, really pretty babies. Can you imagine? Oh my god, that’ll be such a fun wedding! I can’t wait! And of course you’re going to be invited. You and Emma and Angel and Moira and Jean and I guess Scott although between you and me, I really hope she dumps him by then, oh and Peter too, and Kurt and if this goes well, maybe even Hank as a thank you. You know what- I’m going to invite the whole school! We could even get a popcorn machine, like, everyone loves popcorn, right? Oh, it’ll be a blast, can you see the vision?”

Raven rambled on and on until Charles was getting visibly annoyed, and she did feel bad, so she let him sleep. But she plugged in her headphones, put her playlist on shuffle, and stayed up dreaming about how life would be like when she got her man back.

The next day, Charles kept his word and talked to Hank. She knew this because he was following her around like a lost puppy. It was kind of amusing at first, but then it just became kind of annoying so she eventually addressed him. “Hi, my brother sent you, right?” she asked. “Uh, yeah.” Hank responded. “I’m kind of confused as to why though?”

Raven smiled. “Alright. So, what I’m going to do is every Friday, starting tomorrow, for the next five weeks I’m going to venmo you $250 and we are going to pretend we are in a relationship and let the whole school believe that and then when it’s time, you dump me. Sound good?”

“Uh, what?” Hank asked. Raven just rolled her eyes; it was literally simple instructions. He’s supposed to be, like, super smart. Probably even more than her brother. “I’m going to pay you and you’re going to fake date me and then we will stage a very public break up where you leave me. Okay?” She tried looking as intimidating as possible, hoping that if the offer of money wasn’t enough, maybe she could scare him into agreeing.

“Um, aren’t you going out with Erik still?” “That’s not important, Hank, what’s important is that I really need this, okay. And I mean, like, it’s not like you have a girlfriend or anything.” Suddenly, Raven’s eyes widened. She never even thought about it. Maybe he did have a girlfriend. That would be awkward. “Wait, you don’t have like, a girlfriend or anything? Right?”

“Uh, no, but why are you doing this? Like, there’s got to be a reason.” Ugh. Why did he have to be so curious? I guess that’s how smart people are or whatever. “Okay, fine. So, like, you can’t tell anyone and I’m serious, no one? But like, Erik kind of dumped and we are supposed to make him jealous. Got it?”

“No, I don’t got it.” He spoke. Now he was getting kind of angry. Not like angry-angry but as angry as a miniature kitty cat could get, the cute kind. Not that he’s cute. The cat is. Just the cat. “Okay, well.” Raven tried to reason with him. “Uh, how about $300 per week then?” “$350.” He responded. Now, typically, this would be fine, the Xaviers are loaded, but she was curious how hard he was going to fight back.

“$320.” She offered. “No.” He responded. “It’s $350 or nothing.” Raven just scoffed. “Um, okay, why are acting so entitled? Like, I don’t have to pay you at all. It’ll be inconvenient for me if you don’t agree, sure, but it’s not, like, the end of the world. I could find someone else, Hank. You aren’t special. Just because you’re super smart doesn’t mean anything to me, it never did. So, take it or leave it, your choice.” Sure, it was mean, maybe a little bit extra, but Raven never said she was a nice person. She hoped that her little speech would get him to agree, but it didn’t. He went silent. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe it wasn’t worth all this trouble. So, just as she was about to walk away, Hank spoke up.

“You’re right. You don’t need me. Not me in particular, anyways. I’m sure you could easily find some other lonely, geeky, easy-to-bully teenage boy in our school to go along with your little plot. I mean, that’s what you were going for, right? You said it yourself, I’m super smart. So, I have a reputation, obviously. And yeah, it’s the not the best one, but it’s there. You have one too. The popular cheerleader. Can get anyone she wants. Every guy wrapped around her finger. That’s the stereotype, and so far, you’ve been fitting it. So of course, you want a boyfriend and of course you know once it gets out that you’ve been dumped, you’re going to look bad. And this, here, it kind of looks like a charity case, doesn’t it? You know that. And the whole public break up thing makes people feel bad for you, like you trusted me and I betrayed you, and you’ll go running back into his arms. Like you’re the victim. And I’m the bad guy. I’m not stupid, Raven, I see right through you. You know, I’m not even sure if you like him. I wouldn’t put it past you to just date him for the attention, because I know there are people who genuinely want him, and I can tell that you are not one of them. But fine, I will go along with your little scheme, and fine, I will go along with whatever it is you tell me to do but the least you can do is give me the $350 and let me salvage a little bit of respect.”

Okay. So now he’s like, way past kitty cat angry.

“Okay. Fine. Uh, $350 it is.” Raven wasn’t shaken up. She wasn’t hurt. Obviously not. “Okay, um, I’ll text you, okay? My brother will give me your number.” There was an awkward silence, and Hank was getting fidgety. The only positive thing about this besides that Hank agreed is that he visibly wasn’t all that comfortable with lashing out on her.

“Yeah, sure. Bye.” He said, turning on his heel, walking away.

Well, she did it. Part one of the plan is completed. She’s going to have her boyfriend back in no time and that wedding is going to happen. And oh, she can’t wait.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

#xmen #raven darkholme #hank mccoy #charles xavier #erik lensherr #mystique #beast #professor x #magneto #cherik #wait whats hank and ravens ship name #high school au #fanfiction #fake dating #marvel fanfiction #xmen fanfiction

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unabashegirl · 21 hours ago

Text

Vicious 13 — mafia hs

After his father's death, Harry Styles must take control of the family mafia while dealing with his unpredictable brother, Silas. He meets Y/N Castellano, the daughter of an Italian mafia boss, and learns about their arranged marriage.

Author's note: Hello everyone, I hope you are all doing well. Please enjoy tonights new chapter. Let me know what you think. This is one of my favorite episodes!

warnings: cursing and violence

--> vicious masterlist <--

After dressing herself, Y/N sat back in the same position as before, running her fingers through her hair as she tried to compose herself. The last thing she wanted was for the rest of Harry's men to know what had transpired behind closed doors.

Harry opened the door for the men, and Y/N remained still, her gaze fixed on the floor. She didn't want to meet anyone's eyes, especially not with the guilt and desire still swirling within her.

The men entered the room, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement. Y/N could feel their eyes on her, their silent questions hanging in the air. She resisted the urge to shrink under their scrutiny, instead focusing on keeping her composure.

Harry, ever the composed leader, cleared his throat and addressed the men. "Alright," he said, his voice steady and commanding. Liam and Jack walked nervously walked into the room.

They had gotten wind that the boss was looking for them, and a sense of unease settled over Liam and Jack. They exchanged worried glances, their minds racing with possibilities of what this meeting could be about. Liam furrowed his brow, trying to recall their recent interactions with Harry. He scanned his memory, searching for any hints of a missed task or an error in judgment, but nothing significant surfaced.

Jack, typically composed, found himself fidgeting nervously. He raked his mind for any recent slip-ups, any instance where they might have fallen short of expectations. The weight of uncertainty hung heavy in the air as they made their way to the meeting room, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Y/N couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the sudden return to reality. She knew that what had happened between her and Harry was a fleeting moment, a forbidden indulgence that couldn't be repeated.

As the men filed out of the room, Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself for the rest of the evening. She knew she had to put on a facade of normalcy, to act as though nothing had happened.

But deep down, she couldn't shake the memory of Harry's touch, the way he had made her feel alive and desired.

"What's happening?" Jack cut through the tension, his voice sharp with unease.

"Boss," Charlie began, prompting both men to focus on him.

"Yeah, what is it?" Liam pressed, his apprehension evident in his tone.

"What's the matter, boss?" Charlie clarified, his expression serious. "This isn't just a casual chat with a friend.”

Jack and Liam exchanged a glance, their silence a wall against the probing questions.

"Two weeks back, a shipment came through. How much of it?" Harry's interrogation cut through the air, his gaze sharp and unyielding. He had received a call days ago, tipping him off about internal issues within the club. The voice on the other end of the line remained steadfastly anonymous, even after Harry offered incentives and the promise of a personal meeting. "I won't ask again," Harry's voice was firm, cutting through the air like a blade.

Jack shifted uncomfortably in his seat, exchanging a quick glance with Liam. They both knew what Harry was referring to, but neither wanted to be the first to speak up.

"It was... uh, about 20 kilos," Liam finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Harry's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening at the admission. "And where did that shipment go?"

"It... it went out the back, to the usual buyers," Jack stammered, his eyes darting around the room nervously.

"The usual buyers?" Harry's tone was incredulous. "Do I look like I'm in the mood for games? If there were 20 kilos why were only 10 delivered?” Someone had stolen from him and from his buyers. It had made him loose money. “Liam”.

The weight of Harry's words hung heavy in the room, the gravity of the situation sinking in for Jack and Liam. They exchanged nervous glances, realizing the severity of their mistake.

"I... I don't know, boss," Liam stammered, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "We... we thought... we thought the shipment was all there."

"Half of it is missing. Who did you sell it to?" Harry's voice was dangerously low and dry, his patience wearing thin. He knew what they had done, he just wanted them to admit it. Then he would reprimand.

"We didn't mean any harm, boss," Liam spoke up, his voice pleading. "We were just trying to make some extra money..."

"Extra money?" Harry's voice rose, his frustration boiling over. "You risked everything for 'extra money'? Who did you sell it to?!" He yelled, nodding at Charlie and Lex.

Charlie and Lex were quick to step between both of the men. Lex's knuckles met with Jack's face, the sound echoing in the room, while Charlie held Liam back.

"Who, Liam?" Harry asked again, his voice deadly calm now, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He knew there was no escaping this now. The truth had to come out, one way or another. "Again," Lex punched him once more, the force of it making Jack stagger. "I find it quite amusing that you think you'll be able to hide it from me," Harry growled, Lex’s grip tightening on Jack's collar.

"Again. Again. Again," Harry repeated, each punch landing hard on Jack's gut and face.

"The Italians! Federico!" Liam finally shouted, his voice desperate.

A cold chill ran down Y/N's spine at the mention of her father's name. She wasn't surprised that Federico had something to do with it. She just hoped that he wouldn't meddle with Harry until after they were married. The thought of her father's interference made her stomach churn with unease.

Harry's eyes darkened at the revelation. He released a heavy sigh, his mind already calculating the consequences of Federico's betrayal. "You sold it to Federico?" Harry's voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that made the air in the room tense.

Jack nodded frantically, his face contorted in fear. "Yes, yes, He offered us a good deal, we needed the money...”

Harry's jaw clenched as he listened to Jack's excuses. He knew Federico's game well—using his daughter's captor to undermine his business rival. It was a power play, and Harry was not going to let it slide.

"How are you going to make this right?" Harry's voice was low, the cigarette dangling from his fingers as he studied the two men before him.

"We'll do whatever it takes, boss," Liam said, his voice quivering slightly.

Harry took a step closer to Jack, his eyes narrowing. "You think money will fix this?" he asked, his tone dripping with disdain.

Jack swallowed hard, his hands shaking as he tried to compose himself. "We'll pay you back, boss. Every last penny," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Harry's gaze flickered to the blood on Jack's face, and he reached out to grasp his arm, pulling him to his feet. "Clean yourself up," Harry said, his voice firm. He pulled a tissue from his pocket and handed it to Jack.

Harry stood behind Jack in silence, the weight of the situation heavy in the air. Jack's heart pounded in his chest as he walked, his mind racing with fear and uncertainty.

It wasn't until Jack felt the cold, unforgiving metal of Harry's gun pressed against his temple that he realized the gravity of his mistake. The world seemed to slow down as panic gripped him, and he opened his mouth to plead for mercy.

But before he could utter a single word, the gun went off with a deafening bang. Jack felt a searing pain as the bullet tore through his skull, and in an instant, his world erupted into chaos.

Blood sprayed everywhere, painting the walls and floor in a gruesome display. Liam, who stood frozen beside Jack, was drenched in the warm, sticky fluid, his eyes wide with horror and shock.

Harry's expression remained cold and unyielding as he lowered the smoking gun, his eyes fixed on the lifeless body of his former associate. The room was filled with an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of ragged breaths and the drip, drip, drip of blood.

For a moment, no one moved. The weight of what had just happened hung heavy in the air, suffocating them all with its brutality.

Then, with a grim determination, Harry turned to Liam, his gaze piercing and unyielding. "You have one week," he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "One week to make this right, or you'll end up like him."

Liam could only nod weakly, his body trembling with fear and shock. He knew that Harry was not a man to be trifled with, and the consequences of failure were too terrible to imagine.

As Harry turned away, the reality of the situation crashed down on Liam like a ton of bricks. He was alone now, left to clean up the mess and make amends for the grave mistake that had cost Jack his life.

With a heavy heart and a mind filled with dread, Liam knew that the next week would be the longest and most terrifying of his life. And as he stared down at the lifeless body of his former partner, he couldn't shake the feeling that his own fate hung in the balance.

"Get them out of here," Harry ordered, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.

Lex and Charlie wasted no time in wrapping Jack’s body and dragging him out of the room, their protests muffled by the sound of the door slamming shut.

Y/N watched in silence, her heart racing with a mix of fear and anticipation. She knew Harry's wrath was not to be taken lightly, especially when it came to betrayal. She could only hope that her father's actions wouldn't jeopardize everything they had been building.

Harry's swift and cold-blooded execution of Jack served as a brutal wake-up call for Y/N. It was like a bucket of ice water thrown over her, jolting her back to the harsh reality of their situation. In that moment, she saw Harry for who he truly was—a man capable of taking a life without a hint of regret or remorse.

The man who had touched her moments ago, who had ignited a fire of desire within her, was now a distant memory. In his place stood a ruthless and unyielding figure, a man of steel and stone.

Y/N couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene before her—the bloodied corpse of Jack lying on the ground, the unmistakable scent of gunpowder lingering in the air. It was a stark reminder of the dangerous world she had been thrust into, a world where lives were disposable and loyalty came at a deadly price.

She felt a shiver run down her spine as she watched Harry, his expression unreadable as he calmly holstered his gun. There was no flicker of emotion in his eyes, no sign of the man who had held her moments ago with such passion.

In that moment, Y/N knew that she was nothing more than a pawn in Harry's game. She was a piece to be moved and manipulated at his whim, a tool to be used for his own gain.

The realization was a bitter pill to swallow, and it filled her with a sense of dread and unease. She had been drawn to Harry, seduced by his charm and charisma. But now, she saw him for what he truly was—a dangerous man with blood on his hands.

As the weight of the situation settled over her, Y/N felt a surge of fear and uncertainty. She knew that she was in too deep, entangled in a web of danger and deceit from which there was no easy escape.

With a heavy heart and a mind filled with trepidation, Y/N realized that she was now truly alone. In this world of shadows and secrets, she could trust no one—not even the man who had once held her in his arms and whispered promises of passion.

Harry's cold gaze met hers, and for a fleeting moment, Y/N saw a glimmer of something in his eyes—a spark of something dark and dangerous. It sent a shiver of fear down her spine, and she knew that she was treading on dangerous ground.

In that moment, Y/N made a silent vow to herself. She would survive this, no matter the cost. She would play the game, dance the dance of shadows and deceit, all while keeping her true intentions hidden deep within her heart.

As the room fell into an uneasy silence, Harry turned his gaze to Y/N. His eyes softened slightly as he approached her, the intensity of his earlier anger now replaced with a more calculating look.

"We have a problem," Harry said, his voice low as he stood in front of her. "And we need to deal with it before it gets out of hand."

Y/N swallowed hard, her eyes meeting his with a mix of apprehension and determination. "What do you need me to do?" she asked, steeling herself for whatever was to come.

Harry's lips quirked into a small smirk, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "I need you to make a call," he said, his voice a low murmur. "To your dear father."

Y/N's heart raced as the car pulled up to the elegant restaurant where she had agreed to meet her father. The familiar knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach, and she took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves.

The valet opened the car door, and she stepped out, her eyes scanning the elegant facade of the restaurant. It was a place of polished wood and gleaming glass, with soft lighting that cast a warm glow over the entrance.

As she made her way inside, the soft murmur of conversation and the clink of silverware filled the air. The restaurant was bustling with the chatter of diners, the aroma of delicious food wafting through the air.

Y/N felt a wave of apprehension wash over her as she scanned the crowded room, searching for her father's familiar face. She spotted him at a corner table, his expression unreadable as he watched her approach.

"Y/N," he greeted her with a nod, his voice cool and controlled.

"Father," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

They sat in silence for a moment, the tension between them palpable. Y/N felt the weight of her father's gaze on her, scrutinizing her every move.

"I trust you've been well," her father finally spoke, his tone casual, but there was an underlying edge to his words.

"Yes," Y/N replied, her voice steady despite the nerves churning inside her.

"Good," he said, his gaze lingering on her face. "I've heard some... unsettling rumors recently."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, her mind racing with possibilities. She had to tread carefully, choosing her words with caution.

"I'm not sure what you're referring to, Father," she replied, her voice carefully neutral.

Her father leaned back in his chair, studying her with a calculating gaze. "You know as well as I do the importance of loyalty, Y/N," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Y/N felt a surge of fear grip her heart, knowing the implications of her father's words. Loyalty was everything in their world, and any hint of betrayal was met with swift and merciless consequences.

"I am loyal, Father," she said, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts to appear composed. “I just have to gain his trust”.

"I've heard that you've been opening your legs to him," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "I wasn't surprised. You are just like your mother."

Y/N felt a surge of anger and humiliation rise within her, but she bit down hard on her tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. She hated when he spoke about her mother, using her as a weapon to wound her.

"Is that what you've come here to discuss, Father?" she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

Her father leaned back in his chair, a cold smile playing on his lips. "Oh, there are many things we could discuss, my dear," he said, his eyes glinting with malice. "But let's start with your... indiscretions."

Y/N clenched her jaw, her fists tight at her sides. She knew she had to tread carefully, to keep her emotions in check.

"I assure you, Father, my personal life is of no concern to you," she replied, her voice tinged with steel.

"Isn't it?" her father replied, his voice low and dangerous. "You seem to forget where your loyalties lie, Y/N. You are a Castellano, and you will behave as such."

Y/N felt a surge of defiance rise within her, pushing back against her father's demands. "I am loyal to the family, Father," she said, her voice unwavering. "But I will not be treated as a pawn in your games."

Her father's eyes flashed with anger, his jaw clenched tightly. "You will do as you're told, Y/N," he said, his voice a low growl. "Or there will be consequences."

Y/N met his gaze, her chin lifted defiantly. "I will not be controlled, Father," she said, her voice firm. "I will make my own choices, regardless of the consequences."

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