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lizzybeeee · 3 months ago

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DATV Spoilers - The Story We Lost

Posted earlier that I was compiling a list of lore/story threads that have been dropped with DATV's handling of Southern Thedas. The sheer number of things means that I've made this into two parts - this one focusing on all the story threads that have been effectively dropped.

Spoilers for the game ahead, of course.

If you've played the game then you'll know that Southern Thedas - everything from the past three games - was basically swept away by the blight.

A double blight should have catastrophic consequences for the entirety of Thedas, I don’t deny that, it’s nothing short of a mass extinction event – the absolute worst case scenario for all of Thedas.

However, waving away the fact that Southern Thedas - specifically every area you ever traveled to and interacted with in previous games – is gone, devastated by the blight, in a codex entry and line of dialogue makes it abundantly clear that BioWare is attempting to clean the slate so that they can move forwards with the game series with no ties to the previous ones.

The Warden, Hawke, and the Inquisitor effectively accomplished nothing.

As I put it in another post: I never expected them to consider every decision in game outside of the three options they gave us, but I certainly didn’t expect them to go scorched earth on the possibility of ever seeing the results of those decisions either.

How the lore has been handled in this game, summarized to “the elves did it” and “there’s been a shadowy organization in the shadows pulling the strings on everything” is absolutely devastating to the franchise.

The lack of care with which this was treated just bleeds, “There, we’ve answered all questions and finished with this era of Thedas. Moving on now.” At the same time, this destruction absolutely obliterated whatever story threads remained from the first three games.

Could BioWare bring these threads back? Yes, I suppose. But it doesn't change that it was so carelessly thrown aside in the first place.

If they didn't want people to care about their decisions and the impact they made on the world, perhaps they shouldn't have made that a feature of all the previous games.

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Story Threads/ Plot Points that were dropped:

Limited my points to what was in the Dragon Age Keep and what points were brought up frequently in codex entries, conversations, etc...

Edit: I never expected all of these points to be answered in DATV - this is just a list of what was effectively brushed to the side through very bad handling of lore and story.

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Dragon Age: Origins

What is the line of succession in Ferelden?

Things are looking very grim for Ferelden's succession and the Theirin/MacTir line if nothing is done. And nothing was done. The entire plot of DAO literally culminated in resolving this issue, yet no one seems to have learnt a thing from it?

- Anora ruling alone is unmarried with no heir - Alistair ruling alone is unmarried with no heir - Ruling together they have no heir - Alistair and a Cousland Queen have no heir - Anora and a Cousland King-Consort have no heir

The only potential candidate that can fit into several of those world states is Kieran.

Fergus Cousland, according to lore, is the second closest to the throne that is confirmed to be alive in DAI - potentially the brother in-law to the King/Queen of Ferelden.

Ferelden's succession with Alistair as King hinges on whether or not the Warden was able to cure the blight. Alternatively, it is hinted that he may be more resistant since he has dragon blood in him from Calenhad.

The potential implications of Kieran being the bastard son of the King of Ferelden.

Kieran being used as a political pawn to depose Anora using the Theirin bloodline.

DAI took away whatever destiny Kieran had with the Old God soul – that didn’t mean that BioWare had to take away everything else too. Regardless, it doesn't matter. Denerim and Redcliffe have fallen to the Blight - it's unlikely that any of this will ever be brought up again.

2. Did the Warden find a cure?

Unknown. Irrelevant.

Ferelden ended up blighted. Denerim fell. If Ferelden rises from the ashes, it will be without any sign of their influence. Any mention of them will likely be their title alone - no mention of their accomplishments.

3. General Questions about the Landsmeet

What happened to Anora if Alistair is named King? Who rules the teyrnir of Gwaren following the blight?

What happens to Alistair if he's exiled? We know Teagan finds him in DA2 but what happens after?

If Leliana becomes divine does that mean that Connor Guerrin is potentially an heir to Redcliffe?

4. Companion Plot Threads

Morrigan's sisters - the many daughters of Flemeth.

Shale's quest to reverse the process of becoming a golem.

Whatever the hell Nathaniel Howe was going on about when you run into him in DA2 in the blighted thaig.

What, if anything, Avernus leaned from spending a literal age or two studying blighted blood.

5. Zevran's Crusade against the Crows

RIP Zevran's one-man crusade against the Crows and their child slavery ring.

DATV messed up immensely by portraying the Crows as more of a ‘found family’ rather than the horrifically abusive organization it was set up to be.

The very same organization that preys on the weak and disenfranchised - honing them to be tools for the nobles/powerful of Thedas - are now the heroic freedom fighters of Antiva.

The literal decade he spent hunting down the Crows and their leaders is up in flames. No mention in DATV whatsoever.

Wasted a perfectly good opportunity to have a schism in the Crows, with Zevran at the helm of kicking out the antaam, taking in Crows who are are sick of what's happening.

6. The Dwarves of Orzammar

The impact of Bhelen/Harrowmont's reign - ruthless progression verses strict traditionalism

The rumours of an uprising of the casteless dwarves in DAI

Will we ever hear of noble House Brosca or Queen/Lady Rica? Nope.

Will we ever hear of the son that Aeducan can have with Mardy? Nope. (RIP Duncan Jnr - I still love you)

The Anvil of the Void and potential links it may have to the Titans.

If Branka lives what happened to her?

No more fine goods direct from Orzammar

The entire caste system has been simplified by Harding in DATV to effectively be: 'surface dwarves' and 'deep roads' dwarves.

7. The Magisters Sidereal / Awakened Darkspawn

According to a codex in the Descent: one went mad, consumed another, and the final magister fled into the Deep Roads.

Corypheous + Codex Magister + the Architect (most likely) = 4/5 magisters remaining? Possibly?

Reminder that it's hinted that there's an eighth Old God that was struck from the records of Tevinter.

The Architect and his Awakened Darkspawn.

No, it was all the elves. They're all dead now anyway. Thanks BioWare.

8. The Guardian and the Urn of Sacred Ashes

"Where did you come from, where did you go? Nobody in Thedas will ever knowwwww."

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Dragon Age 2

Dragon Age 2 was pretty self-contained, with most things being tied up in Trespasser or DAI. The worst of the plot points abandoned relate to the companions in the game and the lack of closure/answers about them.

General Questions:

Kirkwalls, apparently, endless line of 'provisional' viscounts and constant political instability since Varric ran off to go after Solas.

According to DA: Absolution the Red Templars are still in Kirkwall...yet the show is set after Trespasser - when Varric is viscount? When he mentions that they threw a parade when getting Meredith out of the Gallows?

Aveline, Varric, Merrill and whoever remains of the Kirkwall crew apparently just allowing red templars take over the Gallows?

What happened to Petrice if she lived?

What happened to Feynriel if he went to Tevinter?

If Hawke lives following DAI - where are they?

I have a whole list of lore that's also been brushed over: the Sundermount, Corypheous, the Band of Three etc... I decided to put them in Part 2 since I feel they fit in more with 'lore obliterated' rather than 'abandoned plot points'.

2. Companions

Merrill's Eluvian:

Merrill spent years fixing an eluvian with a piece of string, a potato, and some gum - managing to actually do it.

And it meant nothing.

Eluvians are now a fast travel hub - all mysticism and awe at this marvel of magic are completely gone. Whatever sacrifices Merrill went through to save her sliver of elven history is meaningless.

Imagine if Merrill's eluvian aided in the fight against Solas - if having it intact gave you an advantage against him. Imagine Merrill weeping as Bellara fixes every other single eluvian in ten seconds with her magical omnitool.

Fenris and Slavery in Tevinter:

DATV utterly trivializing slavery in Tevinter is abominable.

Disregarding everything Fenris went through, everything he ever fought for, and making it something barely touched upon in DATV is insanity.

You wouldn't know there was slavery in Tevinter if the Shadow Dragons didn't drop a line or two about it.

Fenris' entire story of going to help free the slaves is diminished because no one wanted to show the ugly, dark side of Tevinter in DATV.

DATV has retroactively made this choice for him to be so unfulfilling.

Where is Anders?

What happened with Sebastian's crusade against Anders? Was he ever captured? Was he executed? Are you telling me that no templars ever pursued this man fanatically after what happened in Kirkwall?

Does his fate vary if Hawke was friends/romanced him?

Varric appointing a new Viscount’s Keep healer called ‘Banders’ who just happens to sleep in the same room as Hawke and their children call him ‘daddy’ lmao

Does his fate vary according to who is Divine? Vivienne hunts him down, Cassandra puts him on trial, while Leliana pardons him?

How does he react to Leliana abolishing the Circles? How much does he weep when the rebellion fails and the mages are destroyed? This man instigated the starting event for DAI and drove most of DA2's major plot and he's just...gone.

The Hawke Siblings:

From DAI we know that Warden Bethany/Carver are safe, but what happened to them if they're in the Circle?

Give us Knight-Commander Carver and First Enchanter Bethany Hawke, you cowards! Have them dismantle the Gallows and be the shining examples of human decency we know they are.

What happens to them after DAI and the Mage/Templar War is concluded? In a world that can embrace or reject them - how do they find their place?

Varric

Trespasser gave him a satisfying conclusion - he's viscount, he's in his shit hole of a city, he's surrounded by the people that he loves and cares about. He has the chance to truly build up Kirkwall after all the shit its gone through.

It just feels so bitter, so meaningless, that they gave him the end that they did in DATV. Varric should never have been the one to go after Solas - the only reason it was him was because he's a popular character in the franchise and was used to draw interest.

Why not Cole?! Who was literally mentioned in Trespasser as being on hand to help his friends - who has the ability to get through to Solas in a way no one else could?

No proper send off - no acknowledgement from those who loved him as to his fate...Varric was reduced to a marketing gimmick to draw people in who wanted to see if he died or not.

Isabela

Isabela's story was brought to a close in DAI - she became an admiral, got a fancy hat, helped the Inquisition, and kept in contact with those she loved/Hawke if defended from the arishok.

Imagine bringing her back in a terrible outfit, having the most sex/gender positive character misgender another person, and making her part of the group that steals cultural artifacts from others.

The tomb of Koslun and Aveline would like a word with you?!

The entire Lords of Fortune group is also extremely bland? No commentary on the ethics/effects of colonialism/cultural appropriation - because confrontational topics/ideas are not allowed in this game. Just like topics of slavery/indoctrination.

Her entire character just seems to have regressed from DA2. Why bother having her cameo in the game if she's not going to meaningfully contribute/comment on whats happening?

Edit - Thanks to bunnyiscthulhu for reminding me that Isabela's mother sold her into marriage...yet she does nothing when Taash's mother is outright forcing them into a life they don't want. Isabela, who believed that everybody should be free - that no one should be forced into a life they don't want, just...lets it happen to another person?

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Dragon Age: Inquisition

What's going to happen to the Red Lyrium that's popped up across all of Thedas?

Ferelden, Orlais, Kirkwall - all areas are reported to have red lyrium on the surface.

What happens to the Red Lyrium in Suledin?

DAI speaks about how they can never stop the spread of red lyrium, only slow it – animals, insects, organisms - whatever life is in the ground is all susceptible to becoming blighted by red lyrium. Suledin Keep in particular was utterly devastated by the Red Templars - what happens to life there?

2. What happened to Corypheous' Inner Circle?

What happened to Samson? How long did he live *if* he’s given the chance to help Cullen? Can something good come from his cooperation?

What happened to Calpernia?

Looking at previous concept art for DATV she was a companion - freeing slaves, gossiping about Samson & Corypheous. Just...what a waste. Any potential insight we could have gotten into Corypheous is gone.

3. The Mage / Templar War:

How does the world vary if you conscripted vs allied with either?

How do the remnants of what faction was not chosen fit into this new world?

How does the world deal with abominations and weird magic shit now? Is an alternative to the Order made if it's wiped out in DAI?

How is Cullen's templar clinic doing? If the templars still exist, how is Divine Victoria changing/adapting the Order to better support mages/templars?

4. Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts:

How do Orlesian politics reflect who was made ruler?

Is Gaspard looking to expand into Ferelden once more? Are the elves being brutalized under his rule like they were by his chevaliers? Does he do away with the grand game like he threatened in DAI?

How does this differ if Briala has collared him? How do his supporters feel that Briala has his balls in a vice?

Do Celene and Briala stay together? Do things improve for the elves and for the culture of Orlais at large?

Do improvements for the elves mean that Solas' arguments to his elven agents are less persuasive?

If Florianne is alive what the hell is going to happen to her? How quickly does she fall on her blade after being forced to wear flat shoes for the rest of her life?

How quickly does shit fall apart if you get all three to cooperate lmao

Friendly reminder that DATV sets up that all of Orlais, except for the Winter Palace has been overrun by the Blight - and that a coup from the Venatori is inevitable, likely resulting in any ruler dying.

5. What is the line of succession in Orlais?!

Why does every noble family in Thedas have no contingency plans for if their head of government dies?!

Part of why we needed to resolve the leadership problem in DAI was because there was no clear, direct heir if Celene died!

Celene has no heir Gaspard has no heir

Florianne planned to frame Gaspard, murdering Celene herself, leaving no clear heir to the throne - Orlais was already in a civil war, the council of heralds/nobles would have all campaigned in their own interests...that was why this was so important!

Orlais shortsightedness and pride in their nation being the greatest in Thedas led to them almost falling in a single night!

6. Here Lies the Abyss:

What are the ramifications of having the Warden's exiled verses remaining in the south?

Trespasser literally states that there's a schism in the Order because some Warden's believe they should touch grass more often and not listen to some bloke up in Weisshaupt for what they do down in the south.

Perfect opportunity to have the wardens remaining in the south mean something! Greater numbers in the south means that there's a greater chance of holding against the blight - while greater numbers in the north can effect if Antiva/Tevinter end up blighted in the first attack!

How does public perception towards the Wardens/King of Ferelden change when they learn they were exiled for committing human sacrifice to demons?!

Give us a warden coup and First Warden Alistair / Blackwall, you cowards!

7. The Well of Sorrows:

What was the point of drinking Mythal's bathwater?!

It's been set up as something that changes you. Bound to Mythal forever?!

Retroactively, Solas feels like he's going mental about nothing! One of the few times he ever breaks - he begs you not to - and...for what? Nothing.

DATV does not acknowledge that in the slightest. Such a waste and disappointment of what was made out to be an impactful decision in DAI.

Imagine if the Inquisitor drinking from the well made us forced to fight against them during the fight with Solas - imagine if Solas, in a world state who hated the Inquisitor, used them as a puppet! Just like the envy demon in DAI - and no one notices until its too late. Imagine Mythal herself, wanting Solas to go through with his plan - (or one of the other evanuris) using an Inquisitor/Lavellan he loved as a puppet - imagine the horror he feels as another one of his friends is reduced to nothing more than a mindless slave of the evanuris once more. Imagine the devastation as he watches Lavellan lose all sense of self - perhaps swaying him to, maybe, not go through with his plan?! Imagine having Cole come back to help save the Inquisitor - or Solas begging Rook to save them.

8. DLC Implications:

What happens if Hakkon is not slain? What happens to Southern Ferelden and the Avaar?

How does the rest of Thedas react to the truth of what happened at Red Crossing and the Dales? How do they react to learning that Inquisitor Ameridan - First Inquisitor and leader of the Seekers - was a dalish, elven mage?

What happens if you do not save the mines in the Descent DLC? How badly is Orzammars economy crippled? There are already rumours of riots occurring within Orzammar - it this enough to push the caste system over the edge?

9. Elven Uprising and the War with the Qun:

The elven uprising that was implied to be occuring all over Thedas as a result of years of oppression, systematic abuse, and Solas’ influence? What happened to it?

Where are the agents of fen'harel?!

It was set up that Solas was planning to use this rebellion as a smokescreen for his plans - the elves, all rebelling for good reason, rallying to his cause while Solas planned to restore the world that once was. The rest of Thedas would only see an elven uprising, not knowing the true face behind it until it was too late!

The war between Tevinter and the Qun?!

Everyone conveniently forgetting that the Qun literally attempted to assassinate every noble family in Thedas? Why was there no exalted march because of this? This should have destroyed any accord between the chantry and the qun. There would absolutely be blood for this – Tevinter could have attacked the Qun and all of Southern Thedas would have applauded - no one would have differentiated between extremist qunari and the normal qun, especially not after Kirkwall.

The implication at the end of Trespasser that we could convince Solas to abandon his plans? Him saying that he welcomed giving us the chance?!

The difference that the Inquisitors friendship, love, or hatred could have in either convincing Solas to take another path or damning him to go ahaead with his plan, no matter the cost?

Have our decisions in previous games matter! How we treated the elves - if we worked to better their lives or 'put them in their place' - can be used to convince him that the world can change! Have the ripple effects of these decisions be seen when the elven gods return, blighted - does the world turn against the elves, hardening Solas, or does the world defend the elves from those who would blame them?

Why was Sandal in the Crossroads?! Where is Bodahn?!

10. Divine Victoria!

How does the world of Thedas change with Leliana, Cassandra, or Vivienne at the head of the chantry?

How does Tevinter react to having a mage divine?!

Do relations change between both nations because of this?

Leliana allowing elves, dwarves, and even qunari to join the Chantry! Leliana also allowing members of the chantry to get married if she's romanced by the warden.

What happened to the Seekers? Are they being rebuilt?

Does the chantry inform the masses, the rest of the mages, that they can CURE tranquility?!

If either Leliana or Cassandra was romanced - what are the implications that may have on the chantry?

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No wonder the writers insisted that none of the past choices would have an impact on Veilguard - they literally went scorched earth on everything we ever did.

Ferelden is blighted - any legacy of the warden is gone.

Kirkwall is destroyed - any impact Hawke had is gone.

The hard won peace/order of the Inquisition was rendered meaningless since every single place that you went to and helped is now destroyed by the blight.

Orlais' ruler will likely be assassinated by the venatori who are plotting a coup with the nobles - making whomever you chose obsolete.

AND IT WAS ALL THE WORK OF THE MAGICAL ILLUMINATI FROM ACROSS THE SEA???

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lidiasloca · 1 month ago

Note

hello!! I was wondering if you could write an azriel x reader fic where they've been best friends for centuries and one day the bond snapped for her. And she starts to avoid him because she thinks he doesn't love her so she doesn't show up to things they usually do together and whatnot (or however you want to put it!) but meanwhile Azriel is going crazy because he misses her and has been in love with her for years and then he confronts her and the bond snaps for him as well!! sorry if it's too long hahah but thanks

is it chill that you are in my head?

azriel x reader

friends to lovers

It was curious to think that no matter the strength you applied, no hit you made would ever hurt Azriel.

Yet, the Illyrian seemed intensely determined not to let you get to even touch him.

“Where’s your mind?” he asked as he dodged yet another hit. You took, at least, a bit of pride in his breathless voice.

You also took pride in how much you had made him sweat already, but you didn’t let your thoughts linger there too much—your eyes, neither.

“In trying to hit you.”

“Well, isn’t it frustrating you won’t satisfy your mind?”

“You get cocky—I’ll hit you down there,” you threatened, taking in his amused grin.

“There you can get?” he questioned as he circled you.

You held your fists up, following his eyes as he eyed you like a vulture. “You don’t want to find out.”

“I don’t,” he replied, just as you went to hit him.

He dodged it effortlessly.

And even had time, as you retracted your arm, to take it and pull you toward him, unbalancing you until you fell onto his torso.

As he prevented you from the fall he himself had caused, you found yourself close enough to his body to make out the intention written on his face.

A threat for a threat, you realized as you stared at those deep hazel eyes.

His face lacked any sympathy as he spoke, his voice death and sensuality all in the same honeyed spoon. “Don’t make threats you cannot back up, love.”

Your breath caught at the darkness that surrounded you. The darkness that you faced when you had his lips so close to yours, his eyes so focused on you.

Azriel was that: darkness. Both the dark that scared you as a child and the dark that now let you dream of him without guilt in the depths of the night.

“You’re right. No more threats,” you breathed as you drove your knee upward—

His hand was steel against the futile force of your movement. And a mocking grin on his lips was all you could think about due to the roaring in your ears.

Bastard.

The knee you were going to use to teach him a lesson was held in place with his right hand, which now moved down, and down until it found a place on the back of your thigh. He urged you nearer him.

Close enough. Until your surroundings vanished and you could only see his face, his never-faltering smirk when you made it so easy for him to mock you.

This was the Azriel you had only for yourself.

Not polite shyness, or quiet kindness.

But darkness.

All of it—all of him. Darkness.

Everything, but his eyes.

While you liked to have this flirtatious, dangerous Azriel—which you both called friendship—you still found yourself fantasizing about the light in his eyes and how soft they were, how romantic and intimate, and everything that he shouldn’t feel like.

Where all of him was dark, his eyes were golden.

Lightness.

Like a thread that led you through deeper parts of him, of his soul.

Too intimate.

You let out a long exhale. “I’m not in the mood,” you mumbled.

And it broke your heart the way he immediately released you. How gently he let go of you as a flash of… pain painted his eyes.

Then it was gone in a blink. And that smirk found its way to his face again. “I make you exhausted quite fast.”

“Mhmm,” was all you could mutter as you watched him—those eyes.

That thread.

What was that?

He held your stare with a bit of confused amusement. “What do you find so interesting?” he smiled.

You took all your bravery… and a step, and another, until you were back where you started: looking deep into his eyes, close enough to feel his breath on your face.

He didn’t dodge this time. And neither did he smirk as you placed both of your hands on his face to make him meet your eyes.

Those golden eyes.

There was something in them.

That lightness that guided you through the darkness—his darkness.

As a thread.

A gasp broke through you at the realization, at the feeling in your heart—your soul.

You took a step back, your hands sliding away from his face as gently as a wind’s whisper.

He eyed you worriedly, taking a step toward you as you kept walking away.

“What?” he asked, finally that mask off his face.

But you couldn’t bear the sight of his eyes again. The feel of that thread.

M-

“What is it?” he asked, desperation lacing his words.

Ma…

“Y/N?” he pleaded.

Mate.

You winnowed away before he could pronounce another word.

…

You knew hiding was not the solution. You knew you would have to face him eventually—he was one of your closest friends after all, yet…

“I cannot do it. I cannot see him.”

Another of your closest friends was there to make you think logically.

“Y/N,” Nesta said, taking a seat on the couch in your bedroom. “You’ve been hiding here for almost a month. You can’t hide from him forever. He’s your—”

“Don’t say it,” you cut in, despite how stupidly childish it made you sound.

Nesta exhaled as if indeed, you were acting stupidly childish. “Mate? You cannot hear the word mate?”

There was a tinge of mocking in her tone that made you meet her eyes with fury in yours. “It’s very easy to look at me and judge me when you don’t know what this feels like.”

“What? Having an Illyrian as my mate?” she asked with a soft smile on her lips, and you knew your friend well—you knew it wasn’t mocking anymore.

Nesta, as if to prove you right, walked toward where you sat on the bed and made herself a place next to you, moving her hand to caress yours like a mother would.

She didn’t say anything, though, so you replied, emotion running your words slowly—unsteady. “You don’t know what it’s like to know your mate… doesn’t want you back.”

“You don’t know if Azriel doesn’t want you back.”

“Yes, I do. I know Azriel.”

“Well, I know him as well. And I know—actually—all the house, and probably all Velaris, knows he likes you. A lot.”

You shook your head.

Nesta went on, “He flirts with you all the time, Y/N. In all honesty, it was about damned time that bond snapped for one of you. It was clear you had something.”

“Exactly: something,” you rectified. “That something, Nesta, is flirting. Flir-ting. Nothing more, nothing else. That’s all he wants from me. Taunting and touching and provoking and friendship. But not love. And most certainly, not a damn mating bond.” You took a staggered breath, not able to meet her eyes anymore. “Not with me.”

Nesta watched you silently, then said, “You don’t know that.”

You shook your head, wiping a tear that slid down your face. “You don’t know either.”

“That’s true,” she replied, handing you a tissue with her free hand as the other drew circles on your wrist. “We won’t know until you ask him.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “So, I just ask him if he wants the mating bond with me? That simple? Thanks, Nesta.”

Her eyes narrowed at you in warning to watch your tone, yet her faint smirk provoked one to bloom on your face. “Yes. It’s that simple.”

“And when he says no?”

She shook her head. “What if he says no,” she corrected you.

Your smile grew just a bit. “What if he says no?” you echoed.

“Then I’ll beat his ass on the training ground. And have Cassian beat him afterward.”

You chuckled lightly, imagining the scene.

But the question appeared in your mind, and you took the courage to ask her.

“And what if he says yes?”

By the warm look in her eyes, you knew she had understood. “It’s a long way to go. But one finally learns to let herself be loved, Y/N.”

And by one, you knew who she meant.

You were grateful that afterward, Nesta and you had a more lighthearted conversation. And when it turned dark outside, Nesta gave you a hug and left your bedroom.

You knew you had to also leave your bedroom at some point and face what awaited outside that comfort.

But love seemed to find you just where you thought you were safe.

“Can I come in?”

It certainly wasn’t Nesta’s voice.

Your hand trembled as you went for the knob and opened the door.

“Can I come in?” Azriel repeated, and you realized long seconds had passed of just you staring, unmoving.

“Yes,” you whispered, letting him through and closing the door.

You had prayed he stayed like that—backward to you, staring outside your window. Anything but have his eyes meet yours.

But he turned to you.

He was even more beautiful than ever, even if you couldn’t help but notice the dark circles around his eyes, his pale lips, or his eyes… almost lifeless.

Like the light had deserted him.

Like the bond had abandoned him… because he didn’t want it.

“It’s been weeks,” he eventually said, and his voice carried enough emotion you had to lean on the door, afraid to crumble to the ground. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“I’ve been busy.”

He took a step closer to you, making you meet his eyes again. “With what?” he demanded.

You weren’t fast enough to make up a lie before he said, “You’ve been avoiding me.” It wasn’t quite a question. “You are mad at me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” he muttered, taking another step.

“I’m not, Azriel.”

He stopped his following step at the sound of his name. He looked like he had been slapped, and his face morphed into something unreadable.

“I’m sorry," he murmured.

“What?” you asked, walking towards him when he looked down.

You had to see his face, you had to understand him.

“Whatever I have done. I’m sorry. Forgive me and… be my friend again.”

You stopped in your tracks, not having quite reached him. Friends.

His words both broke and healed your heart. The desperation in them, the vulnerability.

You stared at the selfless male who cherished your friendship in front of you. Maybe you could take that and give up dreaming. Maybe you could convince yourself that friendship was better than nothing, even if it killed you.

“I miss you,” he said, and you decided that was the final blow.

A sob broke through you, raw and desperate, and his expression shifted instantly. He closed the distanced and his hands found your face, those scarred palms trembling as they cupped your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “Don’t cry, please. I’m sorry.”

Friends.

Mates.

“What are you even sorry for?” you mumbled, shaking your head faintly.

“The last time I saw you - when you got… mad at me, we were doing what we always do. Well, what I always do. That stupid flirting, that… you know. And I know that bothered you. And I’m sorry. I never knew it made you uncomfortable before and… I’m sorry,” he said again.

You quietly stared at him, at the sadness and guilt in his eyes. “It’s not that it bothers me...” you said because it never had, but maybe now—maybe now it hurt your feelings - but that was because of you. It was not his fault.

Yet you couldn’t speak your thoughts before he went on. “It does. I saw it in your eyes… like you were disgusted.” His voice cracked. “And it broke my heart, because… I don’t want it either.”

There it was.

The truth you’d been bracing yourself for.

Friends.

That’s all he wanted you to be—a friend.

He took a deep breath, his hands falling away from your face as he stepped back, as if retreating from his own vulnerability. “It’s all a lie, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched.

“I thought that’s what you wanted—the only thing you wanted from me—and I tried to convince myself that I could settle with that. That it would be enough. But…” His gaze locked on yours, piercing and raw. “I can’t.”

“What?” you breathed, your voice barely audible.

“I love you, Y/N.”

The world stopped turning.

“I love you,” he repeated. “And I don’t want to keep pretending I’m okay with only being your friend. I don’t want to keep pretending. I just… I just want you to know that I’ve loved you for so long, I can’t remember what life was before you.”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think.

Mate.

“You love me?” you whispered.

He nodded as a tear ran down his face.

Another sob tore from you and his hands were on your face again in an instant, pulling you close. “I love you, too,” you murmured, the words spilling out.

And at last, the color returned to his eyes again, hazel-golden shining in the dark room.

And that was it; the light that you needed, the strength that guided you—that encouraged you to tell him.

“I am… I am your mate.”

A beat later you realized you weren’t the one who had spoken.

-Charcaters by Sarah J Maas

azriel masterlist

a/n: thanks for requesting, i hope the fic is of your liking, though i took some liberties in the writing. thanks for your request, love!!

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #acotar fic #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #az imagine #azriel imagine #azriel fluff #azriel spymaster

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batboysanonymous · 25 days ago

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Shadows Between Us (Pt. II)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: As Y/N wrestles with the pain of Azriel’s rejection, Nesta uncovers a dangerous way to break the bond. But some bonds are unbreakable, no matter how much they hurt.

Pt. I

Pt. III

Word Count: 1k

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The walls of the house seemed to close in around Y/N as she hurried down the hallway, her pulse thrumming in her ears. Azriel’s voice still echoed behind her, low and gravelly, tinged with something she couldn’t quite name.

“I didn’t mean for it to hurt you.”

The words had lingered, clinging to her like his shadows often did—unwelcome, unshakable. She shoved open the door to her room, the cool air hitting her skin like a slap. Her chest heaved as she tried to push the confrontation from her mind, but it was no use. His face, his voice, his shadows haunted her every waking moment.

Y/N pressed her back against the door, sliding to the floor as her breathing evened out. She felt like she was falling apart piece by piece, the bond a cruel thread keeping her together, forcing her to endure when she wanted nothing more than to break free.

She’d thought that maybe, somehow, Nesta would find an answer in those ancient books. That the words scrawled across the brittle pages could untangle the threads binding her to Azriel, freeing them both from this torment.

But every solution comes with a cost.

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Azriel leaned against the doorframe of his room, his hazel eyes staring unseeingly at the shadows curling and coiling at his feet. They whispered to him, voices too low for him to make out but insistent nonetheless.

Elain.

Her name flitted through his mind like a fleeting warmth, but it didn’t ignite the fire it once had. The soft smiles, the lingering glances—it was all… different now.

He closed his eyes, his head falling back against the wood with a heavy thud. The space Elain once occupied in his mind felt smaller, quieter. And Y/N—gods, Y/N—was everywhere.

She’d always been there, hadn’t she? On the training grounds, her laughter light and free when she sparred with Cassian. At family dinners, where her sharp wit rivaled Nesta’s. Even in battle, fierce and unwavering, her determination cutting through his chest like a blade.

Azriel groaned, raking a hand through his hair. He couldn’t—shouldn’t—let his thoughts stray to her. She was Cassian’s sister, his best friend’s family. And, worse, she was his mate.

The word felt like a brand, scorching him with its weight. He hadn’t wanted it. He hadn’t asked for it. But now, the bond sat heavy in the air, a faint hum he couldn’t quite ignore.

The way she’d looked at him earlier—her eyes filled with fury and heartbreak—made something crack inside him. He’d hurt her, over and over again, and still, she stood there, defiant and strong.

And yet, she hated him. She had every right to.

“Azriel,” Cassian’s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, pulling him back to the present. His brother leaned against the wall, his wings draped lazily behind him, though his gaze was sharp.

Azriel straightened. “What?”

Cassian’s lips twitched into a humorless smile. “She’s breaking.”

His chest tightened, though he kept his face blank. “I know.”

“Do you?” Cassian pushed off the wall, stepping closer. “Because I don’t think you have a godsdamned clue what you’re doing to her. You’re the most calculating bastard I’ve ever met, Az. You know every move before your enemies make them, but when it comes to her, you’re blind.”

“I didn’t—” Azriel cut himself off, the words catching in his throat. “I never meant for this to happen.”

Cassian laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You didn’t mean for it? You think that matters to her? You think she cares about your intentions when you’re tearing her apart every time you push her away?”

Azriel looked away, guilt churning in his gut.

“Fix it,” Cassian said, his voice low and dangerous. “Before there’s nothing left of her to fix.”

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Y/N sat at the edge of her bed, the book Nesta had left her lying open on her lap. The language was incomprehensible, the words twisting and curling in ways that made her head ache.

Nesta entered the room without knocking, her arms full of more books. Her face was pale, a bead of sweat sliding down her temple.

“You’ve been at this all day,” Y/N said quietly, closing the book.

Nesta’s jaw tightened. “I’m not stopping until we find something that works.”

Her voice was resolute, but Y/N saw the exhaustion pulling at her features. She reached out, placing a hand on Nesta’s arm. “You need to rest. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“There might not be a tomorrow,” Nesta snapped, her voice cracking. She let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes. “If we don’t act soon, this bond will destroy you.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat burning. “It already has.”

The admission hung heavy in the air between them, the weight of it pressing down on her chest.

Nesta set the books on the bed, sitting beside her. “I think I’ve found something. But it’s… dangerous.”

Y/N’s blood ran cold. “How dangerous?”

Nesta hesitated, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. “It’ll sever the bond. But it could kill me in the process.”

“No,” Y/N said immediately, shaking her head. “I’m not letting you risk your life for this.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Nesta said fiercely, her eyes blazing. “This is my choice, and I won’t watch you suffer any longer.”

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Azriel was walking down the hall when it hit him.

A searing pain tore through his chest, and he staggered, clutching at the wall for support. The bond—the bond he’d spent months ignoring, dismissing—roared to life, a fire burning through his veins.

Y/N.

Her name tore through his mind, her presence flooding every corner of his being. The bond wasn’t just a hum anymore. It was a roar, a deafening, undeniable connection that consumed him.

He saw her.

Saw her curled on her bed, her face buried in her hands as Nesta sat beside her, gripping her shoulder. He felt her heartbreak, her anguish, her desperation.

And he knew.

He’d been wrong.

Elain had been a distraction, a mirage he’d clung to because it was safe. But Y/N—Y/N—she was everything.

Azriel stumbled back, his wings flaring as his shadows shrieked around him. He had to get to her, had to—

But when he reached her door, he heard Nesta’s voice, calm and determined.

“This will work. It has to.”

And then Y/N’s quiet response: “Do it.”

Azriel’s heart stopped.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Want to join my tag list? Drop a comment or check out this link to submit a specific series you would like tagged in! (Or if you just don't want to comment, that's okay too)

#batboys x reader #azriel x reader #acotarxreader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #sjm #azriel #azriel acotar #acomaf #acotar series #acotar fandom #x reader #oneshot #imagine #reader insert #female reader

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just-some-user-hunny · 6 months ago

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Platonic yandere Rhaenyra as your mother...

~ The moment she laid eyes upon you, she helplessly fell in love. All the anger and shock towards Daemon took a backseat to her emotions the moment she saw you- her breath stuttering in her throat as her own amethyst eyes settled upon the wailing girl in the mad prince's arms. No woman is keen upon the idea of their other half returning with a child that they've had behind their back, but the sight of a girl- a daughter, for her, settled her decision at once. It's unlikely for her to take out her frustrations out on you, and something about your tearful little face and upset cries for your mother made her want to take you into her arms at once to soothe you. She didn't care at all about you being a bastard, all she could see was a daughter. Hers.

~ Rhaenyra would spoil you. Gifting you dresses and jewellery and books and fine silk threads, and always wearing an adoring twinkle in her eyes whenever she sees you. Rhaenyra herself loves her precious gems and fine luxurious dresses, and now with her own little girl, you bet you're getting spoiled. She'd also love seeing her dear boys get along with you, further fueling her delusions that you're her own child. She'll call her 'my dearest love' and 'sweet girl' , a cautious protective arm always within reaching distance of you if things get heated at the dining table during rowdy family dinners.

~ she's often the one to smoothe your anger and sadness over when it comes to your conflict with Daemon, your father. He is always the one to dish out punishments and restrictions, and in his stead, she'll be the one to lather you with comfort and alternatives. As a child she'd carry you in her arms, wiping away your tearfulness and promising you a ride with Syrax after Daemon forbids you from riding your own dragon for a week. That dynamic fits well with them. Essentially, Daemon is The bad cop, and she is the good cop.

~ as a child, you were very against this woman mothering you when you missed your one mother at home. However you may eventually grow soft to Rhaenyra, even if it's unintentionally done. She's so attentive and gentle towards you, it's hard not to seek out her comfort- even if most of it is dismissive and performative to keep you calm. She'd happily braid your hair if you wish to go riding upon horse or dragon-back, and always with a smile upon her face.

~ Rhaenyra soothing you whenever you fights with her father, Daemon. She is firm, but gentle, the perfect salve to Daemons cruelty and coldness. He has always stood strong and confident, and the powerlessness you'd feel around him would both infuriate you, and make you feel hopeless. Rhaenyra is always there for the aftermath, to distract you from the sadness brewing in your chest. Squeezing your hand beneath the table as you all eat your meals together, your presence always insisted upon by Viserys and Daemon.

~ she'd be a fiercely protective mother. As you grow older, transitioning from her little girl to a young woman, she'd be very against any arranged marriages. If she could, she'd keep you at home forever, single and happy- or free to love whoever you like as long as they are approved by her and Daemon and that you remain at home with them.

Thankfully, due to your bastard heritage, you have no political duty to marry, and are therefore free from being wed for gain. (Sure, you'll never seat the iron throne, but as a woman in those times everything was cut-throat. You may as well have a taste of freedom)

~ Syrax is just as doting. You're her riders little girl, and that maternal feeling would come through both Rhaenary, and syrax. The large golden dragon will chirp and purr in your presence, bowing her head to sniff and gently prod at you- like a doting mother.

"Darling, are you joining us for lunch?"

"For the afternoon".

Rhae smiled warmly, watching you pet Syrax- who gazed upon the princess with passive golden eyes. Crooning gently into your touch, before retreating softly. Rhaenyra approaches soon after- peeling her riding gloves off before taking your face within the cradle of your palms and kissing your brow. 1...2...3, a mantra of soft kisses laid upon your face before she steps back to look at you. Her smile is genuine and warm.

~ As the dance of the dragon approaches, the more protective and demanding she becomes. Suddenly your dragon riding time is limited, especially after Luke's death :( the moment you even suggested leaving upon dragon-back to get some fresh air in the clouds she snaps almost tearfully, composing herself shortly afterwards, and then sending you outside upon the balcony with a guard. A pleading look in her eyes begging you not to disobey her, for her sake, please. She cannot lose you as well.

~ She becomes especially paranoid about team green snatching you away, as both teams are obsessed with keeping you on their sides amidst the approach of war. The amount of kingsguard that stand position outside your chambers every night, hell, even accompanying you around the castle increases. You seldom have a moment to yourself without a lady in waiting heel-to-heel with you, or a towering armoured knight breathing down your neck.

Even with Daemon gone, you're still trapped within the castle.

~ Bastard!princess reader wants nothing to do with this war, and although she may have created a connection to Rhaenyra and Jace and her twin sisters, she may see this as an opportunity to finally leave. Escape would be difficult, near impossible, but not out of the question. You still have your dragon at your call, so you may find a way to slip away and find a way to get to your dragon to escape.

Everyone would go mad however, almost putting a pause on the conflict to go out and find you. Be warned that Daemon and Rhaenyra would immediately go seek your hometown and mother and brothers (that is, if they are still alive), so you'd have to be smart with slipping from their grasps.

~ To the end Rhaenyra will hold onto you dearly like her life-line, committed to being your mother, regardless of your feelings or circumstance. Even as she is burnt, she will not cry or scream- only thinking of everything that she has lost. How she failed you, and everyone she ever held close.

(under the scenario that in the end you did leave and vanish, or worse, got killed in the conflict).

#yandere rhaenyra targaryen #platonic yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #platonic yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #hotd x reader #bastard! princess reader #bastard!princess reader #bastard!reader #bastard! reader

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luveline · 8 months ago

Note

you asked for marauders so how about rockstar!sirius? i love a good reunion fic

He’s sitting at the back of a dimly lit restaurant with friends. One you recognise, Remus, but the rest you’re unsure of. Sirius has the remarkable ability to make friends in every city of every country and in each continent; you can’t possibly keep track of them all. You can barely keep track of him, though he tries his best to tell you.

Going to a restaurant tonight called The Lucky Rabbit for dinner, Remus says they have rocky road? Seems a bit shit. Love you, see you in sixteen days

You get a message in similar fashion each night, the days until you’ll see one another counting steadily down. There are days where you don’t get much more than that, he’s got a hate-hate relationship with his phone, and while you don’t blame him, you miss him.

He calls you most mornings, at least. Yesterday’s had been particularly sweet, because Sirius was sweet, and he doesn’t tend to be, not when you’re out of arms reach.

“I wish I could see you,” he’d said, something muffled about his voice as though he’d been speaking with his lips to his pillow, “wish you were here. I don’t know… I miss you a lot. I didn’t expect it to feel like this.”

It used to be terrifying when he’d say stuff like that. Your famous boyfriend, confessing affection down the line to a total loser with nothing to give him. Now it just makes you want to kiss it better.

You text Remus quickly to ensure that it’s a good time. Hi, I’m at the door.

He pulls out his phone and grins. I won’t look in case I give you away. Do you need me to take some of the boys?

That would be nice, but, Maybe you can drag him out for a cig? you text. I’ll wait in the smokers area?

No problem

You rush for smokers' hutch and sit alone on a bench under a fabric covering. It’s the evening, shoes shiny in the dark, the winter cold nipping your fingers as you cross your arms around yourself.

“Sorry,” you hear Sirius say, far away, getting closer, “I’m not trying to be a dick.”

“You’ve never had to try very hard.”

“Funny. Can I have one of those before I go blind?”

“You can’t be that desperate,” Remus laughs.

“I can’t have what I’m actually craving,” Sirius says, a twist of feigned drama, just the tiniest smidge of genuineness somewhere threaded within as they make their way onto the veranda. “I didn’t know you could miss somebody like this.”

It’s really sweet, and you’re usually more awkward, but for once you get it right. “Welcome to my world,” you say. No malice nor snark, you don’t have it in you when you’re with him, but certainly some irony.

Sirius turns his head fast enough to make you wince.

“I miss you like that every week,” you further.

“No way?” He grins at you, fully grins at you, the goofy kind he’d normally only share with you when you’re in bed together and he’s forgotten to hide it. “Aw, baby, no way.”

You’re swept up before you know it. He practically collapses into you, squeezing you, apologies whispered frantically into your ear as he stands and drags you with him. You hardly remember to stand, feeling at the slope of his back and the starched fabric of his jacket, assuring yourself that he’s really in your arms as you hug.

“No way,” he says a third time, “what are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would’ve picked you up.” Your spine creaks under his squeezing.

He leans back. You follow him, not willing to part just yet. “I told Remus,” you explain.

“Bastard.”

“Should I go back in?” Remus asks.

You’d say yes, because you’re not overly fond of being seen in love, but Sirius doesn’t answer, and then neither of you can as he takes your face into two hands to kiss you grandly. His smile is a rigid line against your lips, so wide you can feel his teeth as he struggles to keep a plain expression and kiss you as he wants to. Your back sags in relief.

“Sweetheart,” he says, pulling away abruptly, “you must be so tired. Are you hungry?” His hands fall softly down your face to your shoulders. “Thank you for coming.”

You startle. “You’re welcome, it’s– it was selfish, not totally for you, I missed you too much to wait two more weeks.”

“Two weeks and two days,” he says.

“That’s contrary,” you tease lightly.

“No, the two days makes a fucking difference.” Sirius puts his arm behind your shoulder and turns you to Remus, almost like he’s showing you off. He opens his mouth to speak, but he loses the words, dropping his face to give you a kiss tight to your chin.

It tickles. When you laugh, he does it again.

“Fuck, I’m glad you’re here. I was starting to lose it.”

“You could’ve asked me to come,” you say, beginning to trudge in time with him toward the restaurant doors.

“Will you come with me for a bit?” he asks.

Will you follow your lovely boyfriend for a bit on his nice tour eating good food and watching him at his best from the side stage? You tip your head to the side to ask for another ticklish kiss, which is enough answer for him.

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black

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halsteadlover · 5 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Connor Rhodes x Female!Reader.

• Requested by anon: Reader is a nurse and while she’s on duty someone man from the or goes crazy because he wants to be threaded immediately and she tries to calm him down, but he loses his mind and with a pocket knife he has he accidentally hurts her cutting her on her face after which he’s escorted out by the security. Connor and reader are together and as soon as he hears about the incident, he run to her all worried. He cleans her wound.

• Warnings: brief mention of blood, wounds, use of knife, curse words, let me know if I missed something.

• Word count: 3453.

• A/N: it’s been a while since I post and I hate how this turned out bye, please have mercy on me, university is kicking my ass and I have to study for my last exams so I’m trying to write something between lunch break and during the evening. I know it’s not so good 😭 but beside that I missed you all so much, I hope you’re all aright ❤️

A sudden noise caught your attention, making you turn your head towards the entrance of the ER.

The morning seemed relatively quiet, there were patients in the waiting room, doctors and nurses doing their normal work.

You looked around before heading towards the waiting room where you had heard the commotion and noticed a man standing in the middle of the room, a pocket knife in his hand that he was waving vehemently. He was completely out of his mind.

“I want a doctor! Now!” He shouted while all the other terrified patients started running away..

“Sir, put that knife down! Right now!” exclaimed the security guard.

“I’m fucking sick! I want a doctor right now or I’ll kill you all!”

“Sir please,” you spoke in a calm and gentle tone, taking small steps towards him, your hands clearly visible to show him you weren’t a threat, that you wouldn’t do anything to him.

“Y/Ln please stay back, I’ll take care of this,” the guard spoke but you didn’t listen. You couldn’t just turn around and walk away as if nothing was happening.

“I’m a nurse,” you continued while keeping your gaze on the enraged man, “How about you put the knife down and I call a doctor right now? You could come with me to one of the rooms while a doctor comes to examine you.”

“Stay back you bitch! I want a doctor now!” he shouted even louder than before and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

Despite your outward calm, your heart was pounding with fear, especially when the man continued to wave that knife around like it was a toy. You mentally breathed a sigh of relief as you saw the last patient had run away.

“Sir, can you tell me your name please?” You continued. “Do you have your medical records with you so we can take a look at it?”

He approached you in a threatening manner and you spontaneously took a few steps back before the guard stood in front of you to protect you.

“I just called the police, you have five minutes to leave or I will have you arrested immediately.”

At those words the man seemed to get even angrier, something you hadn’t even thought was possible. You let out a scream as the man threw himself on Dave – the guard – who was taken by surprise and got hit.

You only realized what had happened afterwards. Only when you saw Dave’s white uniform shirt turn red you realized he had been stabbed.

You didn’t know what was going through your mind at that moment. You only knew you wanted to get that man off of Dave.

You lunged at him, trying to grab the knife from his hand, which allowed the attacker to take his attention off Dave for a moment, though to your detriment, since it ended up on you.

You screamed as he fell on top of you. Your hands tried to keep his arm away from you but you couldn’t stop him from cutting your cheek.

It burned like a motherfucker but it wasn’t the time to think about the pain, not when that bastard was about to kill you.

“Hey! Get off her!” You heard voices shouting and mentally sighed in relief when you no longer felt his weight on your body. You immediately moved away from him, sliding further back on the floor as you sat up, only to see Will and other doctors and nurses holding the man down and injecting what you assumed was a sedative into his arm.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Y/n! Oh god are you okay?” Will asks immediately after walking over to you and helping you up.

You nodded. “Dave… He was stabbed…”

“They already brought him in. He’s on his way to the OR.”

You looked over to where the guard had been lying and only then you realized he was indeed gone. When had they taken him away?

“Are you okay? You hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

Will’s eyes widened as he focused on your cheek. “Shit, you’re not fine. He cut your face.”

You touched your cheek and when you looked at your blood-stained fingertips, you remembered that he had actually hit you.

“It’s just a scratch, I’m fine.”

“Rhodes is going to lose his shit,” Will muttered in a low voice as he looked at your wound. “Come on, I’ll disinfect it. It doesn’t look deep enough to need stitches.”

But Will was right.

Connor really lost his shit.

After years it was no secret you two were together. Everyone knew how protective he was of you and this had often sparked jokes, pranks and teasing from your friends who did nothing but mock him for his overprotectiveness.

He was in the OR closing up a patient after a routine surgery when he heard the interns murmuring something.

“What are you whispering about?” He asked, not being able to make out what they were saying.

“Uhm…” One of them cleared their throat, “We heard there was an attack in the ER, a man with a knife went nuts.”

Connor’s eyes immediately snapped to them, the forceps and suture in his hand frozen, almost about to fall, and even though most of his face was obscured by his mask, his eyes quickly showed his emotions.

His first thought was you.

He knew you were on duty that morning and he couldn’t help but let his nerves heat up.

“Was anyone hurt?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and his hands steady as he finished stitching up the patient. There was no need to freak out. You were fine, if anything happened someone would’ve called him.

“I don’t know how many people, I just heard that a security guard was injured but they’re already treating him, he should be in surgery right now.”

Connor nodded, his throat tight as he concentrated on finishing the surgery. He tried to keep his focus solely on the patient because even though the surgery was almost over, the patient deserved nothing less than one hundred percent of his attention. He couldn’t afford to be distracted since complications were always around the corner.

“Someone page Nurse Y/Ln,” he ordered, his eyes on the patient as he stitched even though his mind was racing. He needed to hear your voice, to know you were really fine.

No one answered and there was a moment of silence. It was only a moment but to him it felt like an eternity.

“Now!” He raised his voice, letting the anger, worry, and crippling anxiety he was feeling shine through.

“Dr. Rhodes, we already tried to page her but she’s not answering,” a nurse said fearfully, terrified of his reaction.

“Fuck,” he cursed through gritted teeth. “Someone go find her then instead of standing there like idiots!”

Everyone exchanged a look and the intern who had spoken earlier immediately left the OR, running towards the emergency room. The entire hospital knew how much he doted on you, how he lived for you only, how much he loved you, how crazy he was for you, so they were all holding their breath while waiting for some kind of update.

Silence reigned in the OR, Connor didn’t bother to show the residents what he was doing, he just kept stitching the patient.

His voice was flat, almost like a robot, his hands was steady, his back straight, but only he knew how anxiety was twisting his stomach almost making him threw up. “Keep page her, I want to know where the hell my fiancée is!” was all he exclaimed.

“Nothing yet, doctor.”

“Dr. Blake went to check and he’ll be here shortly, but just take a breath, everything will be fine,” a nurse allowed herself to say and he looked up to glare at her.

“That’s my fiancée we’re talking about, my future wife, it’ll be fine only when I hear from her,” he spat venomously and she nodded – not wanting to contradict him when he wasn’t thinking clearly – before he turned his attention back to the patient.

He hated this situation.

He wasn’t giving his full attention to the surgery and he hated that.

Please god let her be okay.

Only five minutes had passed since the intern had left but to him it seemed like years went by and only when he saw him return he momentarily breathed a sigh of relief.

Everyone’s faces were covered by masks but Connor only had to look into the intern’s eyes, even if only for a couple of seconds, to understand the news weren’t as good as he had hoped. He knew that look, he had used it hundreds of thousands of times to communicate unpleasant news to the patient’ families.

“Where is she?” he asked abruptly, alternating his gaze between the intern and the patient.

“She’s fine sir, doctor... She...” he paused briefly and sighed, “She was slightly hurt, but she’s fine, I swear she’s fine... She’s alert and only has a small wound. She asked me to tell you to stay calm and just focus on the surgery…”

But Connor didn’t hear anything that resident said except those three words.

She was hurt.

You had been hurt.

“Fucking hell.”

“The attacker has been sedated and handcuffed to the bed and they’re waiting for the cops,” he continued, trying somehow to reassure Connor. “Dr. Rhodes, seriously, it’s just a small graze I saw it and she’s fine you understand? She’s fine.”

He didn’t answer.

He was silent for the rest of the surgery, not saying a single word.

But as soon as he was out of the OR, Connor literally flew to the emergency room, his cap still in his hand.

He needed to see you, he needed to know you were actually fine.

“April, where’s Y/n?” he asked as soon as he got to the nurses' station.

“She’s okay, Dr. Rhodes...”

“Where the hell is my fiancée?!” He cut her off abruptly, raising his voice and not even letting her finish her sentence. He didn’t mean to be rude but he was out of his mind in that moment and didn’t care about anything or anyone that weren’t you.

She pointed to trauma room one and he ran there before she could say or do anything else. He jerked the closed curtain open and his heart stopped when he saw you sitting on the bed.

“Baby…” he breathed out as if he had taken a breath of oxygen for the first time after hours when he realized – even if it took him too many endless seconds in his opinion – that you were actually fine, you were awake, alert and looking at him with a scared expression.

“Connor, baby, I’m…” you started but it was as if he was in a state of shock. Connor seemed to have realized that Will was there only after endless moments and that he was taking care of the wound on your face.

“Will, I’ll take care of it now, thanks,” he spoke, his eyes never leaving yours. Will nodded, realizing it was time to leave the two of you alone, and tossed away the gauze he was using to clean your wound before leaving the room, closing the curtain again.

“Baby I swear I’m fine, it’s just a little scratch…”

He came closer and before he could say something his arms were already around your body and he was holding you close to his chest. He hugged you so tightly as if it was the first time in years that he saw you again.

He felt your arms return his hug, rest on his back and caress him gently and it was only then that he had finally regained some sense.

You were fine, you were really fine.

You were hugging him.

But he was about to collapse on the ground, his legs feeling like jelly.

“Who did this to you?” he whispered while his lips print kisses at the top of your head, deeply inhaling the scent of your shampoo as if it was oxygen and he had been deprived of it.

“I don’t know who that man was. He just… He really was out of his mind, he wanted immediate care and he wouldn’t listen to anyone. Everyone run away. We tried to calm him down but he had a knife… Dave was hurt…” you finished the last sentence with a sob, bursting into tears there in Connor’s arms, your lifeline and right that second, as he held you, you knew everything would be alright.

“Where is he? I’ll kill that son of a bitch with my own hands,” he furiously retorted and started to move away from you but you held him back by his uniform. “No, no, no please baby… Please don’t leave me, stay here with me.”

You looked at him with those big eyes of yours, filled with tears, a destroyed expression on your face and Connor held you again, squeezing his eyes closed in an attempt to stay calm and not go crazy.

“Shh, I’m not going anywhere, I’m not leaving you okay? I’m here with you. It’s okay my love, you’re okay, Dave also will be okay too,” he kept whispering as you cried in his arms.

“I was so… I was so scared…”

His heart tightened with pain as he heard your voice broken by tears. Very few other times in his life he had been so angry and all of those the times were about his father or something that had happened to you.

“I know baby but it’s over, you’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you again you hear me? You’re safe,” he kept whispering, trying to keep a sweet and calm tone even though he was shaking so much he was about to have a seizure.

He couldn’t even imagine what you felt in those moments, how scared you felt but despite this tried to stop the attacker. He hated knowing all this was happening a few steps away from him, he hated he hadn’t been there to protect you.

God only knew how he would’ve killed anyone on this planet just to prevent a single scratch from scarring you.

He pulled away from the hug and literally felt his stomach twist on itself when he saw the cut on your cheek. He stroked your hair gently, trying to calm you down.

“You were so good and so brave, I’m so proud of you baby you know that right?” He kissed your forehead, a small smile gracing his lips as he looked into your tear-filled eyes.

You nodded.

“But I’d rather you let someone else with experience do this job okay? I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt, please promise me.”

“I promise.”

He kissed your forehead again, his eyes closed for a moment and stayed in that position for a while as if trying to convince himself it wasn’t just a dream.

“Now, let me take care of your wound is it okay?” He continued and you nodded. He disinfected his hands and put on some gloves.

He tried to stop his fingers from shaking but he couldn’t, he tried to convince himself it was over but he just couldn’t. It was as if his mind couldn’t really thinking about anything that wasn’t the fact he really risked to lose you, that you might’ve been in Dave’s place, that son of a bitch might’ve taken away from him.

He took a deep breath, turning his back to you so as not to make you worry even more than you already were.

Connor approached you again and gently took your face in one hand, turning your head slightly so he could observe the wound. Luckily it wasn’t deep, it didn’t even need stitches, but that didn’t make him feel any better. It was just a reminder he wasn’t there to protect you.

“It’s going to sting a little.”

“I know baby, don’t worry.”

He could feel your eyes on him as he tried to stay focused and disinfect your cheek, but he didn’t look back, he knew he’d break down and you didn’t need that after what you went through.

His free hand rested on your healthy cheek as he drew imaginary circles on your skin, completely involuntarily.

“Baby?”

“Yes, love?”

“You’re shaking,” you whispered.

He let out a small sigh before sightly stepping away and turning his back to you. His fingers were shaking and he felt terribly guilty for being the one to have that reaction, because you were the one in that horrible situation, you were the one who had faced that crazy guy and you were the one who got hurt.

But he was the one who was at risk of losing you and the thought of it took the air from his lungs, it made him unable to breathe.

Was it dramatic? Probably yes. But he didn’t care. Knowing something had happened to you was destroying him.

“Baby, hey, talk to me.”

Your sweet and gentle tone made his eyes fill with tears, but he didn’t want to cry, not right there in front of you. He felt your fingers curl around his, as if to encourage him to turn towards you again.

“C’mon, look at me,” you spoke again when he continued to pretend to look and analyze your wound.

He then met your eyes, full of concern, and he couldn’t hold back any longer, letting a tear escape down his cheek.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be the one crying,” he tried to ease the tension. His heart exploded when you smiled at him and placed a hand on his cheek, wiping away the tears that had escaped with your thumb.

“Look at me carefully, okay?” You urged. “I’m fine, love, nothing happened…”

“I know, I know,” he smiled through silent tears, “But it literally hurts my heart to know you are in danger, even if it’s just for a second. God baby, you really don’t understand how much my existence depends on you, how much I would give my life just for you to be safe. I would die if anything happened to you and…” He sniffed. “T-the fact I wasn’t there to help you and protect you… It makes me feel so sick I can’t breathe.” He put a hand on his chest, right there where it hurt so bad. You put your hand on his as the other one continued to wipe away his tears. “I was so fucking scared.”

In response you tugged at the collar of his uniform and kissed him, both of you tasting the saltiness of your tears. “I love you so much Connor, god, I love you so fucking much. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you whispered against his lips and he kissed you again till both of you couldn’t breathe, before pulling away and hugging you again.

“I love you so much more.” Connor rested his cheek at the top of your head as he held you, constantly leaving kisses on your hair and being especially careful not to touch your bruised cheek. “I swear, I will lock you in a cellar and throw away the key for all the heart attacks you give me. How the hell do you always end up in these situations?”

You let out a small laugh, relieved that he had calmed down. “Faults of being an ER nurse, you always meet crazy people.”

“Well I’ll ask to change your department. How about gynecology? Oh wait, dermatology is even better.”

You pulled away from him, tilting your head slightly so you could look him in the face. “I know you would never do that.”

He sighed, stroking your hair and drying the tears on your face. “No, but locking yourself in a cellar? Absolutely, I can’t die of a heart attack before I’m forty.”

“Look at you Dr. Rhodes, so worried about your fiancée.”

He gave you a fake glare. “I don’t play about you baby, I think I scared the crap out of the surgical team, they probably think I’m batshit crazy now. Worrying about you is an understatement.”

You giggle, imagining the way he was barking orders and shouting in the OR. “You’re really the best thing that has ever happened to me you know that right? I’m so glad I can always count on you.”

“Always baby, I’m always with you.” He smiled softly before kissing the tip of you nose. “How about we put a band-aid on this so we can get out of here?” He then kissed your forehead and you smiled again.

“Get out of here? But our shift isn’t over yet.”

“I’m sure Goodwin will understand the circumstances, I have no other scheduled surgeries and if they need a surgeon, Dr. Latham is available. I just want to go home and hold you until you’re out of breath. Plus you’re still shaking and I want you to rest.”

You slightly smiled again and nodded, without even thinking about it twice. “I’m in, Dr. Rhodes.”

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feyhunter78 · 10 months ago

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The Dreadful Need in the Devotee Masterlist - Completed

Summary - During your Uncle Robert's Royal Procession, you find yourself enraptured with Ned Starks' bastard son. While Jon has never dreamed so vividly until your arrival, a thread seems to exist between you and him, pulling you together.

Luckily for you both, your father Tyrion has decided you need a sworn sword.

I’ve messed with canon and aged everyone up, so we start our story off with y/n being fifteen and Jon being sixteen, then go from there!

Ch 1: The Little Lion Ch 2: The Bastard Son Ch 3: Cyvassse Ch 4: Greensight Ch 5: The Tourney of the Hand Ch 6: The Chamber of the Little Lion Ch 7: Within Lannister Grasp Ch 8: Secrets Revealed Ch 9: Enter Stage Left: House Tyrell🔥 Ch 10: Aftermath Ch 11: Roseroad Ch 12: Weirwood Ch 13: The Queen's Nameday Ch 14: The Son of the Morning Ch 15: Duality of a Lioness Ch 16: The Young Wolf Ch 17: Northern War Camp Ch 18: The Fall of the Lannisters Ch 19: Post War Revelry Ch 20: The Lion and the Star🔥 Ch 21: As Time Unfurls🔥

#meg talks #meg’s masterlists #jon snow x reader #jon snow x you #lannister!reader #jon snow imagines #jon snow imagine #jon snow x y/n #completed fic

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bi-writes · 1 year ago

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bestfriend!roommate!simon leaves on an assignment, but he needs your help first. (18+)

more bff!roommate!simon (part 9/?)

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, simon has thicc thighs, lap sitting, fem+m!receiving touching, thigh riding because i cant resist, soft!dom!simon, praise kink, size kink (reader described to be moved/handled easily by him), the mask doesn't come off, simon is a cocky bastard, a lotta angst

"simon, if you keep moving, i won't be able to finish, quit squirming."

"sorry, luv--afraid you'll prick me with that bloody thing."

you stuck your tongue out at him for a moment before setting back against his thighs. you sat so nicely there, your ass perched on the thick muscle as you worked. you had your tongue between your teeth as you concentrated.

your fingers held a thick needle, weaving it through the fabric of simon's balaclava and the plastic skull plate. he had ruined another piece; he had come home after his last deployment with the skull plate in pieces. he did not explain what had happened to it; you only tried to ignore the streaks of red along the face of it when you watched him throw it away.

you saw him sitting on the couch, trying to sew it together, but his big fingers made it a little difficult; you sweetly asked if you could help. a big plus--you got to sit in simon's lap and bask in the heat of him.

you adjusted, moving around until you were straddling his wide hips. you had to spread your own to accommodate his size, sitting up high to be able to reach the top of his head, weaving the thread through to tie the plastic to the fabric.

"bloody tits are in m'face, luv."

"yeah? never heard a man complain about that before," you laughed lowly. he grunted in response, a gloved hand wrapping around your waist to hold you steady. "what? you don't like 'em?"

he clicked his tongue, shaking his head, and you laughed again, continuing to sew the plastic to the fabric.

"you're gonna look so scary," you smiled wide. "you like looking scary on the field?"

"keeps the little ones at bay."

"everyone's little to you, simon."

"aye."

you snorted, settling in his lap as you were almost finished sewing the mask. you tied off the thick thread when you were finished, using some scissors to cut the excess fabric. you met his eyes as you sat there, and you smiled at him; maybe he did look intimidating, but all you could think about was how those pretty eyes sparkled last night when he came into your hand and how much you were going to miss that look when he was gone.

"the paint, simon?"

he held up a small jar in one hand, and you took a brush from the coffee table and began to draw lines down the face of the mask. you passed over his dark eyes, winking at him playfully before doing the same line on the other half of the mask. you put the brush down, dipping the tip of your manicured finger in it and then starting to draw the lines down where the mouth of his face would be.

you could feel his warm breath against your finger, and you cupped his cheek with your other hand, holding him firm as you drew along the mask.

"i'm going to miss you, simon," you whispered, swallowing hard. you avoided his eyes, focusing on drawing along the cloth. you let out a shaky breath. "i-i mean...i always miss you, but now you're gonna be gone and...whenever you go, you go for a long time, and--"

simon squeezed your waist gently, quieting you. your bottom lip trembled a little, and you looked down, away from him.

"i-i'm sorry. i don't mean to get upset. it's stupid."

stupid. there was nothing stupid about being vulnerable. nothing stupid about baring yourself, being naked to someone in more ways than just the physical. the sex was easy together; it was everything else that simon fought with. feeling. being. loving. the mundane of that love, like coming home.

and coming home was not easy.

"'s not stupid, luv. i know i leave y'here. i know," he shook his head. "i don't do it on purpose, y'know that."

you nodded, "yes, yeah...i know. it's your job. and you're good at your job, and you made a commitment to your team, and they rely on you like you rely on them--i-i know the reasons." you smiled sadly. "i know. i just miss you...that's all."

there was an itch in the back of your head, a hoarseness lodged in your throat--sometimes you wanted to just keep talking, because forbid this be the last time i say it to you.

he hummed lowly, sliding his hands down low and cupping both sides of your ass, bringing you close. you wipe your hands off of the paint, sighing deeply, relaxing as simon leaned back against the couch and held you near. your hands circled around his neck, hugging him back as you breathed in each other--your scent, the sounds of your breath, the feel of each other's warmth.

you cleared your throat, smoothing your hands down simon's cheeks.

"let me get you geared up, yeah?"

you didn't wait for simon to answer. you picked yourself up off his lap, going to where he had his things laid out. you picked up his tactical vest, holsters, his skull-painted gloves, and you brought them back to the couch. simon sat up as you draped the vest over his head, fitting it over his shoulders. you untucked the hood of his jacket from under the vest, making sure it sat right before fastening the straps and making sure it was secure. you tugged on the straps just to make sure, your eyes skimming over the British flag on his chest and the prominent letters spelling SAS.

you busied yourself with switching out his gloves now, replacing the plain black ones with the painted-skull bone gloves. you didn't react to the calloused fingertips or the jagged scars along his hands. simon was so beautiful--every part of him was.

"i'm really proud of you, simon," you said softly. he hummed lowly but said nothing. you kissed his cheek gently, trying to meet his eyes and smile at him. "have i ever told you that?" simon shook his head, his eyes raising to stare intensely right into yours. you bit your lip. "well, i am. proud. you've come so far. they would be proud, too."

you didn't have to specify who they were. simon didn't flinch, but his eyes flickered.

you reached for one of the thigh holsters, sitting back and motioning for him to stand. when he did, you tried not to think about how much simon towered over you like this. he was taller than you, so much broader, taking up so much of your space. you reached up and started to fasten the holsters around his thigh, your fingers skimming the taut muscle there as you buckle it around him. you didn't comment on the fact that you nearly had to loosen the strap all the way just to fit around the thick of him.

you reached for the other holster, fastening it around his other thigh and looking up at him after you had finished. fuck, he looked good like this. he looked so much bigger--the width of him was greater, with you seated, you had to bend your neck back far, and having his back to the window cast low shadows over his face, darkening his gaze and giving him an eerie backlight. but you would never be afraid of simon--even all dressed up.

your lips part gently when his gloved hand cups just under your chin. you mewled lowly, looking up at him with those big eyes and a soft voice. simon knelt down suddenly, widening his thighs to cage you in on the couch and keeping a gentle hold of your chin.

"'m gonna be back before you know it, luv. sittin' right there--" he tilted his head to the spot to your left, "--y'know that, right?"

you broke out into a soft smile, bouncing a little as you nodded your head. simon clenched his jaw under the mask--fuck, you were so cute, so fucking sweet. there was nothing more comforting than knowing you were waiting for him when he came back--that you would be sitting here just like this, with this little smile on your face, your eyes so wide and pretty.

"i know," you whispered. you leaned over, smoothing your hands over the front of his vest before absentmindedly playing with the straps of it. "i know, simon. still going to miss you."

you don't meet his eyes. it was hard; simon was an important part of your life. any time you lived in his absence, it was lonely. now that you lived together, it felt that much lonelier--there was a room cold and unoccupied, an empty seat at the table, a spot on the couch without him in it. his voice soothed no nightmares and his warmth took away none of your shivering. you never told him that when you called; you only spoke of the meal you had cooked that you told him he would like and the annoying step at the entrance that the landlord still hadn't come to mend.

"c'mere."

simon smoothed his gloved hand down your chin, wrapping his fingers delicately around your throat. with a firm grip, he guided you into his lap as he sat back against the couch again, your body easily settling between his thighs again. your face relaxed, cheek smushed against his shoulder as you pressed your lips to the fabric over his neck. you sighed deeply, legs resting on either side of one of his thighs.

your head tilted back, your eyes peeking up to look at him. he moved his own head to the side, and beneath the skull, you could see those pretty dark eyes--beautiful, undeniable need in them. simon was terrible at hiding what he felt behind his eyes--they were warm, and his pupils were dilated, and you wondered if he saw the same pretty things in you that you saw in him.

your eyes fluttered when you felt one hand slide down the length of your spine. a warm, gentle hand, smoothing along the back of your shirt before cupping one side of your ass. you whined, a soft little sound escaping as you jumped slightly. your legs squeezed around his thigh, and you let out a gasp at the gentle grind. you reached up and cupped one side of his face at the first trace of pleasure, your lips pressing to the other side of it as he encouraged you to do it again.

you did. following his guiding hand, you dragged your hips up again, a strangled moan leaving you as you grind against his thigh. but it wasn't enough--as you moved, you whimpered against simon's face, letting out hot breaths of frustration. your jeans were too much of a barrier, not allowing for enough stimulation, and you felt pathetic when you heard simon's low chuckle.

"awww, sweetheart...look at ya..." he reached up with one paw of a hand and tangled a gloved hand into your hair, tugging on it firmly. he grunted as he watched your mouth fall open, slack jawed, drooling a little as you squeezed your thighs around his own. "look at tha'face. fuckin' beautiful, innit? that face you make when you want your cunny all nice and wet...when you want it pet..."

you cried out at that, nuzzling your face into his mask, kissing at the fabric and licking over the strong line of his jaw and hoping to god that he would have mercy on his pretty little roommate. that he would have mercy on her pretty face, on his name tumbling out of her mouth, on the way she grinded on his thigh like a lovesick bunny in heat.

"sound pathetic, luv..." he gripped the back of your neck, holding you at a distance now. he gripped the front of your jeans roughly, undoing the button and pulling the zipper down. "now be a good puppy and take 'em off."

you shimmied out of your jeans, slipping them down your legs and kicking out of them. you were about to slip your panties off, pretty pink lace that hugged your ass so cute, but simon stopped you, forcing you back down to straddle his thigh.

"i like these," he murmured. "want them on."

you smiled, putting both hands on his vest. you gripped it tight, as tight as you could handle kevlar and bulletproof material, and then you nuzzled your face into mouth of his mask and began to ride his thigh. you were shaking. the straps of his holster were catching on your clit, and your hands were growing clammy as you tried to hold onto him for stability. you wanted to be good. you wanted to show simon how good you could be, how if he just unzipped his cargo pants and dropped them low enough, you could ride his cock so good, he'd see the fucking stars.

you hitched yourself higher on his leg, your thighs squeezing around the meat of his thigh, and he grunted lowly when your knee met his crotch. as you bounced, you rubbed up against him, and you squeaked when his gloved hand gripped your hair roughly, forcing your lips against the front of his mask. your mouth dropped open into a silent scream, a choked moan leaving you, and you kept going. you needed to show him, he needed to know--he needed to know that you wanted him, that you wanted this.

you let one hand drop, fall from his vest, and he growled out a string of angry curses when that soft hand gripped his cock through his pants. it was rough, a little aggressive, and you met his eyes easily.

"i want it--i-i want it--!" you cried. "i w-want more--"

he chuckled, and you felt tears prickling the edges of your big eyes as he laughed. your heart ached because you knew he was laughing at you. you sounded broken. you sounded lost. you sounded pathetic, but you couldn't care, you just couldn't bring yourself to. you needed more with simon.

you were tired of the in-between. you were sick of what if, when, the maybes that surrounded the unspoken thing between you. every grind of your hips, every drop of your slick that dampened his pants, all of it was just something in you screaming what are we?

he called your name, and you wanted to care about what he thought, but you needed him to know. you slipped your arms around his neck, moving until you straddled his hips, pressing your cunt right over the hardness stuck in his zipper and continuing your desperate pace.

you were going to make him understand this feeling inside. the gnawing in your chest--the thing that wanted to be outside so bad, it would claw its way out, it would force its fingers through your throat until simon could see that this wasn't a mistake.

this wasn't forgotten moments that lingered after dark. this wasn't the inevitable of a man and a woman who lived together. this was the catalyst of a bond too strong. two things, unable to be taken apart, to be reduced to separate things. there was not a simon riley without you, and there was no you without simon riley, and if he couldn't understand that, you didn't think you would survive the homecoming.

so you were going to fuck simon riley until he understood the knot was tight, and it would never unravel.

"kitty, wait--"

but he couldn't stop you. you swallowed his words, moaning desperately against the mask, your hips chasing the warm buzz that was creeping up your chest and down your thighs, your toes clenching as you notched the tip of his cock right up against your clit and fucked yourself harder against the smooth fabric of his pants.

"kitty--fuckin' christ--"

you sobbed, squeezing the back of his neck as you soaked his pants. your hips stuttered, small little circles that you made as you tried to ride out the trickle of warmth that was covering you like a comforting, pleasurable wave. your body relaxed, and you sucked on his jaw through the mask, tasting the musk and cigarette smoke that lingered there.

"simon--p-please--"

he grunted, pressing on the back of your head to tuck your face into his neck. you sniffled, moody and emotional from coming so hard, and you shook your head.

"y'r not ready for it. not time yet."

"i am," you sounded like such a baby. a cock-drunk pretty little roommate that needed something so desperately, she was so scared of what she might do to have it. to have him. "i am, please--"

"luv--"

"it's not fair," you gasped, pulling back from him. you stared up at him, and he hummed lowly, reaching up to wipe the tears that gathered under your eyes. "it's not fair, why--why can't i--?"

he tsked, clicking his tongue as he got to his feet, and your eyes lowered as he cursed under his breath, adjusting his pants, and you felt a sliver of victory as you realize that you made simon cum in his pants like a teenager.

"i w-won't wait forever."

the air in the room changed immediately. it came out of your mouth faster than you could stop it, and you tensed against the couch as his head turned, snapping to look at you.

"wot? wot did y'just say?"

"nothing."

"look at me."

you grit your teeth as he leaned down and knocked you under the chin, forcing your head to tilt back.

"wot did you just say?"

"nothing," you repeated, firmer this time. his eyes narrowed, two black, dull eyes staring down at you. his gaze was intense, and it was meant to scare you, but simon could never scare you. deep down, you knew he would never hurt you, at least not physically.

emotionally, simon had your heart in his hands, and those hands were not made to nurture. they were made to make pretty roommates cum and to pull dirty triggers. but nowhere in that did it say they were made to love you. nowhere did it specify he would keep it safe. you had given it up, before you had even realized, and he was playing you like his favorite instrument.

but simon didn't know how to play music. and there was a part of you that knew nothing about this was in tune.

when he goes, he doesn't say goodbye. and when you cried, it echoed in an empty room.

you would not wait forever. i will not wait forever.

he will not wait forever.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut

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ashblooddragons · 10 days ago

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My Tears Ricochet

This was requested by @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored I know it isn't exactly what you asked for but I hope you like it none the less

Summary: You and Daemon are in a failing marriage, whispers follow you everywhere you go. Whispers that speak of his infidelity. And when you confront him of these rumors will it end everything or will it bring you back together.

Word Count: 2461

Warnings: inner turmoil, rumors of Daemon cheating (though he never did), argument, marital problems, angst, tell me if I missed anything

My nails dig into my palms as whispers and glances are thrown my way.

It started when my husband and I, the Prince Daemon, got into our first quarrel that led us down this road.

It was over something so small, well at least in his eyes. He had spilled wine on my dress with no idea how expensive it was.

The silks had been made by the finest fabric maker in Myr, and that alone made the dress absurdly expensive, and then on top of that, it was a gorgeous light purple with diamonds, sapphires, and pearls sewn into the bodice and the embroidery was pure gold thread.

I could have forgiven him, it was a mistake and everyone makes those. But when my dear, dear husband laughed at the irreversible stain, I saw red. And on top of all this, the dress had been a gift from my Father for my nameday. So to hear my husband laugh at such a mistake, and then roll his eyes when I explained my frustration, I was less than pleased.

But I should have known that was only the beginning. That the dress was only the beginning of the end.

I should have known that instead of trying to work on our marriage, he would instead decide to warm the bed of his niece. Nor should I be surprised she would let him, for if she can birth two bastards and claim them to be my brothers, then why wouldn't she let another man other than her Strong join her?

I can handle the glances, the whispers, but when I see people start laughing under their breath is when I've had enough. I pick up the skirt of my dress and rush up the stairs towards my shared chambers with Daemon. Not fast enough for the court to have their laughs and know they hurt me, but also not slow enough not to make a point.

When I enter our chambers I find it the way it's been for at least a moon. The bed is only slightly used on the left side, and the blue velvet settee with a thin quilt and two plush pillows. I know that even though he sleeps here at night he still has plenty of time to visit a whore or his darling niece.

“My Lady.” I hear my son's Nursemaid say as she gives a clumsy bow as she holds my little boy.

“Hello Dahlia.” I say to the mousy girl. Her hair is a dull red almost seeming brown in certain lights. Her face is pudgy with freckles spotting all over her face and arms. But what makes her stand out is her eyes, the most beautiful sage green. You could almost smell the scent of bark and foliage when you look at them.

“The little Prince has just finished his feed if you wish to hold him?” She asks when Daelor starts to whimper and squirm in her arms.

Always a Mama's boy. I think, taking my son into my arms.

He is such a sweet little thing, only six moons old and yet already knows who his favorite is. Though I have heard that Targaryen boys tend to prefer their Mothers.

I take in his sweet cherubic cheeks that have a slight rosy tint to them. His soft silver curls that are untameable though I would never want to. But most of all his eyes, a soft periwinkle that matches my own. Everything about his coloring from skin, hair, and eyes shows that he is mine. But his features are of his Father's. From the strong straight nose, to his brow that always seems like he's ready to scold you. It is clear he is mine and my husband's son. Not even Rhaenyra can try and deny that. And she has only to try and protect her sons.

I hear the faint creak of the door open followed by the soft steps of Dahlia leaving me so I may spend time with my little boy.

“Nine moons you were in me, and yet you are practically a clone of your Father.” I jest as he moves to touch my hair.

I figured out quickly why most mothers have their hair pulled up tight and out of their babes reach, for though they are small they have grips that rival the greatest and strongest knights.

He starts babbling, looking around the room and pointing at things. It almost seems like he's telling me about his day.

“Oh, well that all sounds wonderful.” I say to which he nods, resting his head against my chest.

“What sounds wonderful?” I hear from behind me. There is no denying who the voice belongs to. The deepness missed with amusement only matches one man.

My husband.

“Our son was just telling me about his day, that is all.” I respond, turning around watching as he undoes his jerkin sliding it off so only the rich red undershirt is left.

He gives me a strange look before looking at our son and a joyful smile plasters itself on his lips.

“I do not think that is true, my wife, the boy can't even say Mama or Papa.” He jests but his words sting.

He never called me ‘Wife' until two moons ago when everything started falling apart. There wasn't a night where we didn't have a screaming match only for it to end in cold silence as the other slept across the room.

I wish I could say that's when the whispers of him visiting brothels or his niece started, it would make more sense. But sadly it isn't, two moons, it was two moons after our son was born when they started. And that's when the whispers started who knows when he truly started warming others beds. I always knew my husband had a high appetite, I myself was his meal of choice, but I never thought he would be so cruel as to find others so soon after our son's birth. That he couldn't wait a couple moons for me to heal.

Though I suppose I should've known. Everyone warned me, even ladies I had never spoken to had said he would only pump a babe into me and then find another. I didn't believe them, and when his desire for me only grew as my belly swelled I knew they were wrong. But that joy soon came crashing down like a freezing bucket of ice water.

I'm brought back to the present when I feel a tug on my arm. I turn to see my Husband reaching for our son taking him from my arms. I know he is only being a father but I can't help the rage that fills my belly. He's embarrassed me after Daelor's birth, and yet he has the audacity to take him from me? I was the one who screamed and bled for a day and a half, I was the one who was ripped apart to bring the son he so desired only for him to rip my heart from my chest and stomp on it.

All the pretty words, all the words of adoration, all the ‘I love you's’. I should have known, why didn't I know?

“Where were you? I went to the training yard but you weren't there, was that not where you told me you would be at this hour?” I ask with such venom I see him almost flinch.

“I was, though I had to cut my training short, I was needed in the city.” He responds with a nonchalant shrug before setting our son down on the floor by his toys.

Now he won't even try to deny his visits to the brothel? Is this truly what has become of our marriage? I think as a silent tear rolls down my cheek. Though he would never know of it for his attention is on our son and not me, never me.

“Of course.” I whisper before moving towards our, no, my bed and picking up my book from the side table.

I can feel him staring at me, feel the way he assesses me. But I don't react, I refuse to. But his words are what makes me finally look at him in shock.

“I don't know when things changed, or why, but I want to work on us. Why won't you let me?”

I look down at my heralds for a moment, I need to decide if now is the time to confront him on his affairs. When I look up at him again, seeing the confusion and hurt across his face I know I must.

“You act as if you didn't do this, as if you didn't run off to your niece or some whore. How long did it take you? A week mayhaps the very day our son was born.” I demand as tears threaten to fall but I refuse to let him know how much he's hurt me, how many tears I have shed because of him.

He doesn't say anything, only picks up our son and opens the door whispering to the guard and then waits. I know what he's doing, he's calling for Dahlia, Daelor doesn't need to hear our screaming matches.

It feels like only seconds but at the same time millennia until Dahlia has Daelor and walks away towards the gardens.

Tis the farthest place from our chambers, he shouldn't hear us from there.

I watch as Daemon shuts the door with a soft click. He doesn't turn to look at me, only looking at his hands with utter defeat.

This is it, the moment our marriage will finally break completely. No more sweet words or soft touches, no more vows of devotion or I love you. The bridge will finally crash and burn into nothing but soot. I think as he finally turns to look at me.

“And who had put such rumors in your head? Why would I go to a brothel? Why would I visit my niece? You know how I hate what she has done to the Targaryen name and yet you think I will follow her into bed? Do you truly think I have no restraint?” He asks, pain filling each word, as more tears begin to rim his eyes.

I stand from my spot on the bed moving towards him. “Do not play me for a fool, Daemon! Everyone knows, they whisper it with each step I take. I can't leave these chambers without lords and ladies laughing and whispering behind my back. So do not play the victim, you have even admitted to going to a brothel! And your Niece has made sly comments here and there of how--how you will not desire me anymore.” I scream tears rolling down my cheeks. There is no hiding my pain anymore. I have bottled this up for too long, six moons is too long to hold this burden.

He only stares at me before a curse leaves his lips. “I don't know what Rhaenyra has said to you, or the court but it is a lie. And when did I ever admit to going to a brothel?” He demands stepping closer. One more step from either of us and our chests would meet.

“You said you went into the city, why not tell me? The only clear answer is you are hiding something.” I all but sob out, I know I must look like a hysterical mess right now but I can't find any reason to care.

He freezes seeing all my hurt, every stab to the heart now open for him to pick apart and destroy me more.

He sighs and looks down at his jerkin and I already know what is going to happen. He will slip it back on and leave to clear his head only to come back smelling of soot and wine.

“I didn't mean to hurt you, I was trying to do something nice.” He says picking up his jerkin but instead of putting it on he reaches into one of the pockets pulling out a small box and something with a chain.

“I thought– I thought maybe I could show I cared if my words didn't. You hardly let me touch you now, I can't speak without you becoming quiet and withdrawn. So I thought A gift might help mend things. But I see now it only fueled your mistrust.” He says as he clutches the gifts so tightly his knuckles turn white.

I think about his words over in my mind, trying to find when it all changed for us. We used to be so perfect, we used to be inseparable. There were many at court who were jealous of the devotion my husband showed me. So when did we fall apart?

I step forward taking his hand in mine before gently opening his hand. Inside is a gorgeous necklace, diamonds encrust each and every part but what holds my attention are the two dragons. One made of ruby and the other made of sapphire.

Our mounts, Caraxes and Nightfyre. I think with a smile as I touch the intricately carved stones.

“It's lovely Daemon, I love it.” I say looking up at him. I can see a faint smile Grace his lips before he opens the little box.

Inside are matching earrings, a diamond on top and then our mounts made of stone warped around each other. Just like the necklace.

“They are both lovely gifts.” I say tears slowly rolling down my face instead of the fast sobs.

“I want to work on us, I want us to be together again. Not just in a room, but in our hearts. And if that means leaving the Red Keep, leaving my brother and family behind. I will, because I would rather have you and our little family than any of this.” He says, wiping my tears.

I see now that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, that maybe, just maybe we can be us again. That we can be in love once more.

So all I can do is nod, as I hug him for what feels like the first time in ages. And he hugs me back.

I know it's going to be a long road ahead, but now I feel like I'm not alone anymore.

“You still have a lot of explaining to do. And so do I, I suppose.” I say into his chest.

I feel his chest rumble with laughter as he strokes my hair. “Then it's a good thing we have all the time in the world.” He responds and for some reason, at this moment, I've never felt more loved.

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @athzhowakar @baybaybear1 @themoonlitquill @thelastemzy

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rorasjournal · 19 days ago

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Comfort in shadows | Azriel

lil short azriel fluff to start off my journey on tumblr hehe

pairing: azriel x reader

synopsis: y/n is stressed out about her responsibilities, and there’s only one person who can soothe her anxiety

word count: 819

warnings: none really, maybe some light man handling

The balls of my knuckles turn white as my grip on the terrace rails tighten while I stare out at the night swept view of velaris laid out in the distance, anxiety plaguing my mind. I've been trying to distract myself from all the thoughts gushing around for the past hour, but nothing has been working.

There's just too much going on right now, too much that I feel the need to deal with all on my own, and I'm fucking tired.

Whispering shadows cling to my skin, dancing along my body before strong arms are wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against a familiar chest.

"It's cold out here," Azriel mutters, tucking his face into the crook of my neck and pressing a soft kiss there. Closing my eyes, I lean my head back against his shoulder.

"I know."

"So why are you out here?"

When I don't reply, Azriel spins me around, sandwiching me between the rail and his body and forcing our gazes to meet. "What is it?"

I don't want to talk about any of it, especially not to Azriel. He's always so calm and collected, dealing with his responsibilities with so much grace and without complaint. I don't know how to be like that. "Nothing."

He lowers his face to mine, our noses brushing together and pulling the air from my lungs as he whispers, "I thought we were done with the lies."

"I'm not lying," I insist, ultimately webbing myself up in more deception regardless of the fact that Azriel clearly sees straight through me. He doesn't even need to use his shadows to figure me out.

A breath passes through his nose before he scoops me up, dangling me over his shoulder and walking inside while I yell out in detest.

"Put me down, asshole!"

"Gladly," he says, flipping me so my back hits the mattress of our bed. He's on top of me in a flash, his mouth attached to my neck as he sucks on my sensitive skin. My breathe hitches in my throat, a hand instinctively reaching to his head and threading my fingers through his dark hair. "What's going on?" he asks again, mumbling the words against my neck as he continues his work.

So that's what he's doing. Azriel is turning my mind to mush so he can get an admission out of me. Slick bastard.

Smart bastard though.

"I just—" I'm not sure if I'm struggling to get the words out because I don't want to say it out loud, or because his tongue is running up the base of my neck. "I'm stressed out, I don't know. Rhys wants me dealing with the Autumn Court and Beron is just such an asshole, I don't know how to handle all of this at once."

Pulling away, Azriel looks at me with furrowed brows. "Why was that so difficult for you to tell me?"

I turn my cheek against the mattress to avert my gaze, but Azriel grips my jaw, forcing me back.

What is with him and male-handling me today?

"Can you not see how it would be embarrassing admitting that I'm overwhelmed to the spymaster, the shadow singer who always keeps his head level, who always knows what's going on and how to deal with it?"

With a sigh, Azriel sits up, grabbing one of my hands to urge me up as well.

"I think you of all people should know that I've lost my cool a few number of times.”

“Yeah, a few," I reply with a roll of my eyes. "That's a few hundred less than me."

The corner of his mouth ticks up. "Y/n."

"Azriel."

That just makes his smile grow. "You know it's okay to ask for help, right?" he whispers, tenderly tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear as I lean away. "Especially from me."

"But that's my point, I shouldn't need to ask for help. I should be able to deal with this on my own like everyone else does."

"There's not one person in this court that hasn't needed assistance from the others at one point or another, and I'm pretty damn sure you should know that considering it's usually you that's doing the assisting." He chuckles. "You don't even realise you're doing it, do you."

I sigh, leaning over and resting my forehead on his chest as he drapes an arm across my shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

"You're the strongest person I know, that's not going to change just because Beron is pulling your strings."

"I wish you didn't always sound so wise, it makes it hard for me to not listen to your advice."

His chest rumbles as he laughs quietly. He completely scoops me up into his arms, dragging me onto his lap as he whispers, "I will always be that reassuring voice in your ear."

#azriel #acotar #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #fluff #azriel fluff #short #azriel shadowsinger #a court of thorns and roses

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charliedawn · 4 months ago

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Hey, so I have been thinking about this for some time now. How would the slashers react if they were finally deemed safe enough to be reintegrated into society?

Would they be hesitant to leave and try to make themselves seem unsafe just so they can stay or would they accept and come visit occasionally?

(Warning. I cried my eyes out writing this !) Jason Voorhees

Jason had been hesitant from the start. The idea of reintegrating into society felt strange for someone like him, a distant concept he couldn’t fully grasp. Crowds, normal life—they were things he never understood, never wanted to. The only peace he’d ever known was here, with you, and the thought of leaving that behind stirred a deep unease inside him.

The day came when the gate to the facility stood open, the path to the outside world clear. Jason stood at the edge of the property, staring out, his hulking frame tense. Behind him, the other slashers watched in silence. You stood among them, Brahms beside you, your eyes quietly tracking Jason’s every movement.

For a long moment, Jason stood still, his mask angled toward the distant horizon. But something inside him clenched—a tight, uncomfortable feeling that pulled at his chest. It was as if an invisible thread was tugging him back, away from the freedom society promised and back towards the family he had found in St. Louis.

He turned, his eyes scanning the faces of the slashers, the staff, and finally landing on you and Brahms. Brahms who was on the verge of tears. That’s all it took. His body moved before he even made a conscious decision, and without hesitation, Jason walked back towards you. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around both you and Brahms and squeezed, reaffirming that this—this place, this family—was where he truly belonged, where he wanted to be.

There was no questioning his decision. No one asked why he had turned back, because everyone understood. Jason didn’t need words to explain that society held nothing for him. You, the other slashers, the strange bond you’d all formed—that was his home. And if it meant leaving any of that behind ? Then it wasn’t worth it.

You rested your head against his chest, a small smile forming as you felt the weight of his decision settle over you. Jason wasn’t going anywhere. His presence would serve as a reminder, a symbol to the others that redemption was possible—that even though they lived in the shadows, there was still a path forward. And maybe, one day, they could all walk out of St Louis together. Or that was your hope.

For now, though, Jason was staying. And that was fine with you.

Michael Myers

The news of Michael finally leaving St. Louis was a shock that no one could quite prepare for. As the one who always kept the slashers grounded, the thought of him leaving was bittersweet. He had been their rock, the one who somehow kept them out of trouble, and for many, like Freddy and Five, he was more than just a fellow patient—he was family. A party was thrown the night before his official release, and while everyone seemed to be in a celebratory mood, Freddy and Five sat together at a corner table, drinks in hand, watching Michael from afar.

Five glanced at Freddy, his voice soft. "I can’t believe he’s really leaving."

Freddy let out a scoff, but there was no real bite in it. "Yeah. What a lucky bastard, am I right ?"

Five nodded, though his expression was conflicted. "Yeah...lucky."

Five nodded, though the word “lucky” didn’t sit right with him or Freddy. The silence between them was heavy. Tomorrow, Michael would be gone, and the realization of that made their drinks taste bitter—the day Michael Myers would walk out of their lives. It wasn’t just about him leaving St. Louis; it was about losing someone who had been there for them in ways no one else had. Freddy, in his darkest moments, had found some semblance of solace knowing Michael was around. And Five, well, Michael had become the father figure he never had. The party wound down, and the night seemed to pass in a blur.

The next morning, the air was tense. All the slashers gathered in the entrance hall, watching as Michael quietly prepared to leave. You stood at the back, heart heavy but knowing that it was time. He had more than earned his freedom. As Michael neared the threshold, the others stood frozen, unsure of what to do or say.

Then, out of nowhere, Five ran toward him. Without hesitation, he threw his arms around Michael, hugging him tightly. "Please...don’t leave," Five whispered, his voice shaky as he tried to hold back tears. The usually stoic Michael hesitated, unsure of how to respond. But then, slowly, he wrapped his arms around Five, pulling him closer and closing his eyes as he enjoyed the hug.

That moment seemed to break the dam. One by one, the others joined in. Freddy was the first to rise from his seat, muttering curses under his breath as he made his way over. One by one, the rest followed, each of them joining in the group hug, letting go of their pride and showing just how much Michael meant to them. They weren’t just losing a friend—they were losing the glue that held them all together. Freddy, Vincent, Jason, Bo—all of them came forward, letting their masks fall for a moment. They weren’t just saying goodbye to a friend; they were saying goodbye to the person who had held them all together, who had been their steady presence in St Louis. The first one to come was the first one to leave.

You watched from the sidelines, your heart heavy but understanding. But then, as you caught his eye, you saw something flicker in his gaze. That’s when you realised. You sighed in defeat, knowing what that look meant. With a weak smile, you walked over and joined the group hug, wrapping your arms around Michael too. You couldn’t ask him to stay, but deep down, you knew he had already made his choice.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

Michael wasn’t leaving his family behind.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms was devastated at the thought of leaving. At first, he had genuinely tried, to entertain the idea of reintegration. He had even convinced himself, in fleeting moments, that maybe he could fit into society, that maybe he could live like everyone else. But as the day of his release approached, something inside him shifted. The closer he got to the exit of the facility, the heavier the weight on his chest grew. His thoughts spiraled—what would life be like without you ? Without Jason, Michael, the Horde or Penny ? Without the strange, chaotic family he had found here ?

The idea of being out there, in the world, where no one cared about him, where he couldn’t watch over you, where he couldn’t find solace in Jason’s quiet presence or Penny’s unpredictable antics—it all seemed unbearable. The loneliness he had once known in his old home, the isolation that had eaten away at him for years, loomed over him.

As he reached the threshold, panic took over. Brahms’ breath quickened, his vision blurred, and before he could even think, he was running back. His heart pounded in his chest, his footsteps frantic, until finally, he saw you. His eyes were wide, almost crazed, as he reached out, grabbing you and held you in a desperate grip—his arms almost crushing you.

"I can’t leave," he whispered, his voice breaking with fear. "Please...don’t make me go."

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he clung to you. The mere thought of being separated from you and the others, of being cast back into a world where he was alone again, was too much for him to bear. His voice trembled as he begged.

"I need to stay with you," he whimpered, his grip tightening. "I can’t—please, don’t make me go..."

He started to cry, his sobs uncontrollable as he clung to your side, begging and pleading with every word that left his lips. His body trembled, and you could feel the intensity of his fear, the overwhelming need for you to be there, to not let him face the unknown alone.

You sighed softly, feeling your heart break for him. Brahms had always been fragile and dependant, and this was no different. You knew he wouldn’t survive out there—not without you, not without his family. And as much as you wanted to see him thrive, you couldn’t bring yourself to send him away. His tears, his pleas, were too much.

"Alright," you whispered, softly brushing his hair back. "You can stay."

Brahms collapsed into your arms, his body shaking with relief. He wasn’t going anywhere. He was safe…

Freddy Krueger

Freddy had mocked the whole idea of reintegration from the start, spitting on the process with his usual bravado. "Like I’d need any of that crap," he’d laugh, brushing it off like it didn’t matter. He was cocky, confident in the fact that he was better off in his dream world where he ruled supreme. But then, something unexpected happened. You—you, of all people—approved his discharge from the hospital. He hadn’t seen it coming, and the reality of it hit him harder than he expected.

You had seen him change. You’d watched as he started to show empathy, a bit of compassion, and even a strange respect toward the other slashers. He’d stopped seeing them as targets or obstacles and more like, well...people. Freddy had found pleasure in things besides his usual games of murder and torture. Gardening had become a surprising hobby of his, and he’d formed bonds with some of the others, like Pennywise, Bo, and even Michael. He had laughed, made sarcastic remarks, but there was something more—he had learnt to tolerate, even appreciate, the company around him.

When he first got the news, he was ecstatic, practically gloating as he waved the discharge papers in front of the others, his smug grin plastered across his face. "So long, suckers ! I’m gettin’ outta here, and I wish y’all one happy rotting day !" he’d bragged, basking in the moment. But as the time to leave approached, something unexpected stirred inside him—a flicker of doubt.

He packed his things, but the act felt hollow. He thought about the fun he’d had tormenting you, but also the strange bond that had grown between you two during those games. It wasn’t just about his sadistic fun anymore—there was something else there. And then there were the others, the idiots he’d reluctantly come to call...family.

Freddy paused at the doorway, paper in hand, staring at the exit. For once, the grin slipped off his face as the thought of life without you, without them, hit him. He didn’t want to leave. With a long sigh, he crumpled the paper in his hand and turned back, shaking his head as he strutted toward you with his signature smirk.

"You didn’t think I’d actually leave my favorite plaything behind, did ya ?" Freddy teased, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on your cheek before flipping off the other slashers.

The group let out a chorus of groans, half-hearted and annoyed, but Freddy just cackled, loving every second of it.

"And I ain’t letting ya have all the fun in my absence, you bunch of losers ! You’d miss me too much anyway..."

His words were met with more grumbling, but Freddy, as always, ate it up. "Yeah yeah. Love y’all too, ya cunts !" he laughed, throwing his arms out wide before making himself comfortable again, knowing full well he was right where he belonged.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent, the quieter of the Sinclairs, had made it clear long ago that he wasn’t that particularly eager to leave and besides, he knew he was never going to leave his twin behind. The thought of returning to society was almost alien and completely unappealing to him. When you brought the discharge papers—he was genuinely stunned—and he found himself looking back at you, heart aching. He shook his head. No. He couldn’t leave you or Bo behind.

Bo caught wind about his brother’s decision to stay and barged into Vincent’s bedroom—knocking the door down before yelling.

"Are ya outta yer goddamn mind ?!"

Vince shivered at Bo’s sudden loud voice and was about to reply when Bo grabbed his arm and dragged him down the corridor toward the exit.

"They actually think yer good enough for the outside world, ya dumb bird. And yer gonna stay in here ?! Spoil it all fer what ?! Fer me ?! Fer Nurse Y/N ?! The reason they’re here is to give us—poor bastards—a second chance ?! And yer gonna mess up yers cause ya want to stay ?! Grow a damn pair, Vince !"

Vince felt tears run down his cheeks at his brother’s harsh words and he shook his head frenetically to tell him that he didn’t want to leave, but then…Bo decided to grab his brother once more and drag him towards the exit himself—restraining his own tears. Bo didn’t want to be alone either…but that didn’t mean he was gonna let Vince spoil that chance for him. He wasn’t gonna let his twin make that mistake…

"Come on, Vince. Ya gotta take that chance and get back to Lester. He must be worried sick and think we both really kicked the bucket…" They arrived at the door and Vince started wheezing painfully and tried to voice out his protest, but Bo forced himself not to listen as he suddenly shoved Vince outside the facility. And when he was about to close the door, Bo finally allowed himself to show his true emotions as he grinned and his eyes softened—red-rimmed.

"…You are and have always been the best twin, Vince. Now, make me proud and have a good life for me, ‘kay ?"

Vincent screamed as the door closed and he started hammering at the door—calling out for Bo who slid to the floor and forced himself to remain deaf to his brother’s voice. He started sobbing as it was the first time they would be separated, but he still didn’t want his brother to stay…

You heard his sobs and walked towards the door to find Bo—his back facing the door and his knees up to his chin. He looked like a child and was covering his eyes. You didn’t need to ask, you knew what he had done. You wordlessly sat next to him and tried to reassure him.

"That was…very brave of you, Bo. And don’t worry. You will soon join your brother. I promise."

You put a hand on his shoulder and was surprised when out of the blue, Bo grabbed your waist and settled you on his lap so he may cry against your chest. You were momentarily stunned before you allowed him to hold you and started stroking his hair…

"Sssh…You did good, Bo. You did good."

Bo Sinclair

Bo stood at the edge of the facility, torn between conflicting emotions. The thought of being controlled or confined filled him with resentment, yet the idea of reintegration felt wrong in a different way. He had fought hard to build something with you, to let you and the other slashers into his guarded heart. The prospect of losing that connection gnawed at him, like a slow, insistent ache.

He cursed under his breath, pacing back and forth, his pride wrestling with the feelings churning inside him. The memories of laughter shared and quiet moments spent together played in his mind, reminding him just how much he had come to rely on your presence. He took a deep breath, glancing back towards the exit where freedom awaited, yet it felt so far removed from the life he had begun to cherish.

As he stood there, uncertainty washed over him, and he felt his heart clench. The idea of leaving you behind, leaving everything he had built, felt unbearable. He liked fixing cars and being with people who could…actually understand him. With an exasperated sigh, he turned on his heel, striding back toward you, his decision made.

"I ain’t goin’ nowhere, darlin’. Can’t leave you here by yourself, now can I ?" His voice was firm, yet he smiled.

You met him with a sad smile. It was a moment of relief for Bo, but you also understood the weight of the situation. As much as you wanted him to stay, you knew he had to embrace the opportunities that lay ahead. Gently, you reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly. "Bo, you deserve this chance. Your brothers will be waiting for you. You can’t throw it away."

His expression shifted, torn between the desire to stay and the reality of what you were saying. He opened his mouth to protest, but the look in your eyes silenced him. You were right; he had fought for this moment, and it was unfair to squander it just because of his fears.

With a heavy heart, you turned him back towards the exit, giving him a gentle nudge. "Go on, Bo. Just think of all the possibilities out there. You won’t be alone. You have your brothers. And you have your whole life ahead of you. Just…take that chance and you’ll see."

He hesitated, looking back at you with an expression of longing. "But I don’t wanna leave you…"

Your smile faltered slightly.

"I’ll be right here, waiting for you. You can come back anytime." Your smile remained still, a mixture of sadness and encouragement in your gaze.

Finally, Bo took a step forward, then another, each movement feeling like a weight lifting off his shoulders. But as he reached the threshold, he paused one last time, turning back to face you. "You promise I’ll get to see you again ?"

"I promise," you replied, sincerity in your voice. But when he was far enough, your eyes filled with tears. You were really gonna miss the Sinclairs…

Pennywise

Pennywise stood at the threshold, staring out into the world beyond the facility’s gates. The idea of reintegration was laughable to him at first—a joke he didn’t even bother taking seriously. After all, he was the Eater of Worlds, the one who brought fear and destruction wherever he went. What place did he have among people ? Yet here he was, papers in hand, offering him the chance to leave St. Louis and begin again. A twisted smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he thought about it.

But as he prepared to step forward, something gnawed at him. Penny.

He glanced back, and there he was—his annoying and stupidly tall brother. Penny stood there, fidgeting, watching him with those wide, innocent eyes that belied the horrors they had both committed. The thought of leaving Penny behind tugged at something deep within him. Pennywise had always been the older brother, the protector, and no matter what fate had handed them, they had always been together. He couldn’t just walk away from that. The world beyond these gates might offer him freedom, but without Penny, it would be hollow, meaningless.

His smirk faded, and a bitter laugh escaped his throat. "Who do they think I am, huh ?" He muttered to himself, turning on his heel to face Penny. His brother was still standing there, looking confused, like a child waiting for guidance. Pennywise shook his head, feeling something in his chest twist painfully.

"There ain’t no world out there for me without you, little brother," he growled, striding back towards Penny, his steps heavy with determination.

Penny’s face lit up with confusion, his usual wide grin faltering. "But...you’re supposed to go," Penny said, his voice trembling slightly. "You can leave, they said—"

"I don’t give a damn what they said," Pennywise cut him off sharply, standing in front of Penny now, his hands resting on his brother’s shoulders. "I’m not going anywhere without you, you hear me ?"

Penny blinked, then let out a quiet, breathy laugh, though there was uncertainty in his eyes. "Really ?"

"Really," Pennywise confirmed, pulling him into a rough, awkward hug. "What kinda brother would I be if I left you here by yourself ?"

Penny clung to him, nodding, his giggles returning, though they were softer this time, almost relieved. "We stick together, right ?"

"That’s right. Always," Pennywise muttered.

As the two clowns stood there, you watched from the side, a bittersweet feeling settling over you. You knew Pennywise had the chance to go, to reintegrate into society, but the bond between the two brothers was too strong. They had survived so much together—there was no world in which they would willingly part.

You approached quietly, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "Pennywise, you could have had your freedom."

He glanced at you, eyes sharp but lacking the usual malice. "This is my freedom," he said, motioning to Penny, who was still clinging to him like a lifeline and then gestured to St Louis. "All this."

You nodded, understanding the weight of his choice. "Well, then...we’re glad to have you both stay."

Pennywise snorted, but there was a flicker of gratitude in his eyes as he tightened his grip on Penny. "You ain’t getting rid of me that easily," he said, his usual bravado returning. "Besides, who’d look after this idiot without me ?"

Penny giggled again, this time fully, as if reassured by his brother’s presence. You smiled softly, knowing that despite the chaos they brought, the bond between them was unbreakable. They weren’t just brothers—they were each other’s worlds, and that was something neither of them would ever leave behind.

Penny

Penny had never really understood what the word "freedom" meant—not truly. The idea of being "free" seemed strange to him, especially when it meant being away from Pennywise. His brother had always been the one constant in his life, the one who found him when he was lost and showed him a new way to live, even if that way was covered in blood. So, when the papers came, telling him he was free to go, Penny wasn’t sure how to react.

Pennywise, though, grinned from ear to ear, that same wicked, sharp-toothed smile he wore when he thought he was playing some grand trick. He patted Penny on the shoulder and laughed.

"Well, well, little brother," Pennywise said, circling him like a predator eyeing prey. "Looks like you’ve hit the jackpot, huh ? They’re letting you out. You can finally leave this dump behind and see what’s out there." His tone was light, mocking almost, but there was something in his eyes that made Penny pause.

"Leave ?" Penny repeated, tilting his head, his wide smile faltering for a moment. "But...what about you ?"

Pennywise waved him off, his grin widening. "Ah, don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine. Go on, Penny. This is your big chance. You don’t want to waste it, do you ?"

Penny hesitated, his smile now completely gone. He looked at Pennywise, trying to make sense of his brother’s words. The idea of leaving Pennywise behind—it didn’t sit right with him. Not at all. "But...you said we would stick together," Penny mumbled, his hands fidgeting at his sides. "You said you’d always look after me."

Pennywise’s grin wavered, just for a second, but then it was back, sharper than ever. "And I have, haven’t I ? But you don’t need me anymore, Penny. You’re free now. Go on, go have your fun without me. It’s your big chance. You’ve been waiting for this…Go on, get out there."

Penny looked back at the open world beyond the facility, but it didn’t feel like freedom. It felt cold, vast, and terrifying. His hands shook as he took a hesitant step toward the door, but something was pulling him back—something stronger than the lure of freedom. He looked over his shoulder again, hoping to find some reassurance in his brother’s eyes.

Pennywise kept his cool, giving a lazy wave of his hand. "You’ll be fine without me. I mean, you’ve been wantin’ to get outta here for a while now, haven’t ya ? Just…go."

But even as he said it, his heart clenched painfully in his chest. He hated this—hated lying to Penny. Penny will be fine. However, he wasn’t sure if he—himself—was gonna be. But he needed his brother to have a real chance at a normal life, to be free of the monster Pennywise had made him into.

Penny took another step forward, but his legs felt heavy. His entire body resisted the idea of leaving Pennywise behind.

Penny stared at him, eyes wide and confused. The words didn’t feel right, didn’t feel like Pennywise. He took a step closer, reaching out as if to touch his brother’s arm, but then stopped, uncertainty freezing him in place. He knew how much his brother hated hugs. "I don’t want to go," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I don’t want to be out there without you, brother."

Pennywise’s grin faltered. It was…the first time Penny had ever called him brother since his transformation. He looked at Penny for a long moment, his sharp gaze softening, though he tried to hide it behind a sneer. "Don’t be stupid," he muttered, but there was no bite in his words. "I ain’t gonna be much help out there, kid. You’ll do better without me draggin’ you down. You’ll be fine, Penny."

But Penny shook his head, panic rising in his chest. "No ! I won’t !" His voice was growing louder, more desperate. "I can’t do it without you ! I won’t leave !" He stumbled forward, clutching Pennywise’s arm with both hands now, his grip tight, desperate. "Please don’t make me go."

Pennywise froze, staring up at his little brother, the one he had spent centuries protecting, guiding, shaping. And now, here he was, terrified at the idea of leaving. Penny’s wide, innocent eyes searched his face, and Pennywise felt something twist painfully in his chest.

Pennywise clenched his jaw, every instinct screaming at him to stop this charade. But he had to let Penny go, for his own good. He forced a laugh, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "Look, it ain’t a big deal. You’ll get used to it. Hell, you might even like it out there without me. No more rules, no more walls...No more old farts to tell you what to do. You’re free, Penny. Free."

But Penny didn’t move. He shook his head, his wide eyes brimming with confusion and hurt. "You don’t want me with you anymore, is that it ?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Did I…do something wrong, Pennywise ? Haven’t I been a good brother to you ?"

The words hit Pennywise like a punch to the gut. His fists clenched, and for a moment, his façade cracked. "That’s not what I—" He cut himself off, looking away as his throat tightened.

But Penny had already seen enough. "You’re lying," he whispered, tears welling in his eyes. "You don’t want me to go. You’re scared. Like me."

Pennywise finally let out a long, frustrated breath, his tough-guy act crumbling. "Dammit, Penny...Of course I don’t want you to go. And of course I am scared."

Penny’s lip trembled, and he quickly threw himself into Pennywise’s arms, clutching his brother tightly. He didn’t care anymore if Pennywise was to push him away. "I don’t wanna leave you, ever. Please don’t make me, brother."

Pennywise wrapped his arms around Penny, holding him close, his face softening. "I wasn’t tryin’ to make you, idiot," he muttered, his voice thick. "I just...I thought you’d be better off. I didn’t want you to miss your second chance because of me."

Penny shook his head. "No chance is worth leaving you behind, Pennywise. We stick together, remember ?"

Pennywise sighed, a sad smile pulling at his lips. "Yeah...alright, kiddo. We stick together."

For a long time, they stood there, Penny clinging to his brother as though he were his lifeline, and Pennywise holding him just as tightly. He had tried to give his brother a chance at freedom, at a life beyond their shared horrors, but in the end, neither of them could let go.

When you approached, watching the scene unfold, Pennywise met your gaze over Penny’s shoulder. His usual sharp grin was gone, replaced with something sadder, more resigned. "Guess we’re both staying, huh ?" he said quietly, though it wasn’t really a question.

You smiled softly, nodding. "I figured as much."

As you stood off to the side, watching the two of them, you felt a pang of emotion. It wasn’t just about them refusing to leave the facility—it was about them refusing to leave each other. Pennywise had tried to give Penny a future, but in the end, they both realized their future was together.

But what they were both unaware of was that you had made sure to get both their discharge papers signed…And that they would be both leaving soon enough.

Jack Torrance

Jack stood at the exit, gripping the discharge papers in his hand like a lifeline. He stared at the open door, the pathway to freedom, but something about it felt wrong—like it was too easy. After everything he’d been through, after all the dark, twisting corridors of his mind, reintegration into society felt like a trick, like a bad joke that someone was playing on him.

"Look at this, Jackie-boy," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "They think you’re cured. They think you’re all better now." He chuckled, the sound low and bitter, his eyes flicking between the door and the facility behind him.

You watched him from a distance, sensing his inner turmoil. Jack had changed, no doubt about it. The rage, the uncontrollable thirst for violence—it had dulled, simmered down into something more manageable. But you knew, just as he did, that it hadn’t disappeared entirely. Reintegration wasn’t going to be simple for him.

His knuckles whitened around the papers, crumpling them slightly as he clenched his fists. "It’s a load of crap," he spat, though his voice trembled ever so slightly. "What am I supposed to do out there, huh ? Go back to pretending I’m normal ? Like I didn’t lose it, like I didn’t almost—"

He cut himself off, jaw tightening. His mind flashed to images of the Overlook, the whispers in the walls, the looming presence of things he couldn’t control. But then he thought about you, about the other slashers. The twisted family he had somehow found himself a part of in this place. It wasn’t perfect, and it sure as hell wasn’t normal, but it was something. And it was real.

Jack glanced over his shoulder at you, standing quietly by the door, waiting. His heart twisted at the thought of leaving this behind. The idea of stepping out into the world alone, without that connection—it gnawed at him, filled him with a creeping dread.

"Hell…" he sighed, running a hand down his face. His thoughts wrestled with each other, pride and fear duking it out in his mind. Jack had always been a man with too much pride, too much ego. But there was something more than that now—something that made him hesitate, something that kept him from walking out that door.

Eventually, with a deep, frustrated groan, Jack turned on his heel, crumpling the papers in his fist. He marched back toward you, his steps heavy and determined, but his face twisted in a mix of emotions. "Forget it. I ain’t going anywhere. Nope. Ain’t happening," he declared. "I ain’t about to leave you here to deal with this circus by yourself."

You smiled sadly. "Jack, you should take this chance. You’ve worked so hard to get here."

Jack shook his head, his lips curling into a bitter smile. "Yeah, well...maybe hard work ain’t enough this time." He looked at you, his expression softening just a fraction. "You’re the only thing keeping me from losing it, sweetheart. I ain’t gonna handle it on my own out there, not without you."

Your heart ached for him, but you knew what you had to do. With a gentle hand, you reached for his arm, slowly guiding him toward the exit. Jack’s eyes widened, panic flickering in them as he realized what you were doing.

"Hey, hey, wait—what the hell are you—" He tried to pull away, but you held firm, your smile sad but resolute.

"Jack, you deserve a life outside these walls. You’ve earned it. And your son deserves his father back." The mention of Danny made Jack freeze, his breath hitching. "You can have another chance with him. Don’t waste that."

Jack’s determination deflated in an instant, replaced by a deep, gut-wrenching sorrow. He lowered his gaze, the fight draining out of him. "I...I don’t know if I can."

"You can," you whispered softly, squeezing his arm. "And I’ll be here when you’re ready to come back. But you have to try, Jack."

For a long moment, Jack stood there, staring at the open door like it was the edge of a cliff. Then, finally, with a defeated sigh, he nodded in agreement. "Alright, alright...whatever."

You smiled, gently pushing him toward the exit one last time. "Go on, Jack. I am rooting for you."

As he stepped through the door, Jack paused, looking back at you one last time. "Don’t you forget about me, alright ?"

"I won’t," you promised, watching as he disappeared into the world beyond.

……

Bonus

The facility was quiet. Too quiet. You stood in the empty corridor, staring at the space that once buzzed with life, chaos, and more than a few death threats—yet now, all of it was gone. The slashers were gone.

One by one, they had walked out, some more willingly than others. You had seen them off, each with their own strange mix of emotions, but now…the finality of it all was hitting you. The air felt heavy, like a weight pressing down on your chest as you wandered aimlessly through the halls, past the rooms that had once been filled with their presence.

Jason’s room—cold and methodical, but with a small corner where he’d kept all of his little wood figurines, a reminder of the quiet peace he found here. You picked up a little frog figurine and smiled at it before walking away. Freddy’s space, always filled with his arrogant cackling and sarcastic jabs, was eerily silent. The air no longer held that faint scent of burnt metal. Brahms’ toys were gone too, the little things he’d cling to, now absent from the shelf he’d always obsessively arranged.

You paused outside Bo and Vincent’s shared room. The door was ajar, just as they had left it. Bo’s worn cap hung haphazardly over a chair’s back corner, and Vincent’s sketches still covered the walls, half-finished masterpieces of a mind far more brilliant than most would ever understand. But even in their messy intimacy, there was a void, a stark reminder that they weren’t coming back.

You stepped inside and sank into Bo’s chair, resting your head in your hands as the emptiness finally got to you. You had fought so hard for them, had seen them in ways the world never would, had given everything to help them find a new beginning. And now, they were free. You should feel proud. Relieved, even.

But all you felt was lonely.

The facility had been your home too, your sanctuary in a world that could never quite understand you or them. Now, without them here, it felt cold. Hollow. So damn empty. The echoes of their voices, the weight of their presence still lingered like ghosts haunting the spaces they had left behind.

You closed your eyes, trying to suppress the tightening in your chest. You had known this day would come. You had helped them prepare for it, pushed them when they needed it. But nothing could have prepared you for the silence that followed.

For a long time, you sat there, alone in the stillness. It felt like mourning—not just for the slashers, but for the connection you had built with each of them. You had been their confidante, their friend, their guide. And now, in their absence, you didn’t know who you were anymore.

Your mind drifted to each of them—Jason, Freddy, Brahms, Bo, Vincent, Pennywise, Penny, Michael and all the others. You wondered if they would make it out there. If they would find happiness, if they would remember you. And then there was a pang in your heart—a fear that maybe, just maybe, you had been forgotten already.

You stood up, moving through the empty halls with one final look, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. You had done your job. They were free. But somewhere in the quiet, you wished you hadn’t been left behind.

For now, though, you would keep that promise to them. You would wait. Even if it meant sitting in the stillness, holding onto the hope that one day, they might come back.

You closed the door behind you.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 1990 #pennywise 2017 #slashers #pennywise x reader #michael myers x reader #freddy krueger x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #jack torrance x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader

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utterlyazriel · 1 year ago

Text

—whom the shadows sing for (and the thief’s echoing hymn)

FIC MASTERLIST

A story about one shadowsinger who did his time in the Illyrian Mountains and one warrior waiting out her own— who will do anything to keep her wings… even if it means posing as a Male.

fem!reader, mulan-esque au

1. STRANGERS

Someone in the Illryian Mountains has been making a name for themselves— a bastard like Azriel and his brothers, ruffling the feathers of a war camp's Lord. But they seem to have no loyalty to the fighting legion, or much to anyone for that matter.

2. ALLIES

Azriel trains you and is particularly unforgivable about it. Together, you tackle tonics. Azriel ponders the unmistakable pull he feels and you try your best to keep your secret under wraps.

3. COMPANIONS

Azriel leaves for Velaris. You reflect on old choices and everything that you lead you to where you are now— and realise it's been awhile since you had anyone to miss.

4. FRIENDS

You return to regular training for the first time in a month. Azriel asks a favor from Rhys and finds you in a less than stellar condition when he returns to camp.

5. CONFIDANTS

You test out if your efforts with the tonics are worth anything and Azriel bestows you with a gift. He asks about the Blood Rite and you ponder the strange, golden thread you've been feeling in your chest. Disaster strikes when night falls.

6. BETRAYERS

A secret you vowed to never reveal gets uncovered and Azriel struggles as all he's known is turned on its head. An unfriendly adversary from the past comes knocking.

7. MATES

Azriel mourns a mistake that will haunt him for eternity as he races back to you. You play the leading role in one of your nightmares, but you can't seem to wake up.

8. STRANGERS (AGAIN)

You wake up somewhere entirely new, a long, long way from your home.

9. FRIENDS (IN OTHER PLACES)

Adjusting to life in Velaris means learning to train with new, friendly faces. A tentative friendship forms. Azriel keeps his distance.

10. SHADOWS

Azriel's shadows find a new way to torment their master. The question of forgiveness follows you. Cassian gets you in the ring, testing out newly learnt skills.

11. FRIENDS (AGAIN)

Trouble sleeping leads you to wander the halls of the House of Wind, finding a friendly face. Azriel stews in his misery—but not for long.

12. SHRIKE (TO YOUR SHY AND GLORIOUS THORN)

Finally accepting Cassian's invitation to breakfast, Rhys offers you a proposal. You take flight for the first time since that fateful night in Exordor.

to be continued…

chapters 12/?

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x you #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfiction #azriel fic #azriel masterlist #whom the shadows sings for #whom the shadows sing for (and the thief’s echoing hymn)#masterlist #keeping it all in one place :D

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vivs-fics · 5 months ago

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Selfish (Part 2)

Logan Howlett x Reader

Part One

Warnings: Smut. So much smut. Just an ungodly amount of filth. (Abandon all hope ye who enter here.), slight angst, self-loathing Logan, confessing feelings

“Logan, what the actual fuck do you think you’re doing?” Your brows knit together in a healthy mixture of concern and confusion. The office he’s pulled you into is crappy at best, but the desk seems clean enough. The scuffed hardwood harbors a lone ashtray, stacked to the brim with half-smoked Camel cigarettes. The light above you is yellowed from years of continued exposure to tobacco, the bulb flickers every so often. You have no more time to ponder the electrical workings of this establishment though, not when you have a 6’3 hulking Wolverine in front of you, hands running through his hair frustratedly.

“I can’t do this anymore, baby. I just can’t.” He steps closer to you, his warm breath fans over you. His eyes search your face, brows scrunched together, deepening the lines in his forehead. His lips are set in a narrow, straight line.

“What can’t you-”

Logan cuts you off with a firm kiss, “I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want you the way I do. I fucking- God, baby. Do you even know what you do to me?” He cups your face in his hands and gazes on you like you hung the moon in the sky. His honeyed eyes trace the features of your face. He looks upon you as if he is gazing upon the Divine. The admiration behind his eyes surpassed that of centuries of people kneeling before their gods in awe.

“Baby… baby, you are everything to me. And if that makes me a selfish motherfucker, so be it.” He presses his lips to yours once again, passion flows between the two of you. The invisible string that connects you seems to wind around the expanse of your bodies and pulls you closer together. Neither of you can help it- the need for this proximity.

“Logan. Wait, wait.” You sigh out, attempting to halt the panting and pleading, almost putty in his hands already.

“Yeah, princess? What is it?” His thumbs rub up and down your cheeks soothingly.

“I had no idea you felt this way. You always- you know-” You shrug, albeit a bit sheepishly. A smile appears on your face, and he kisses you, once, twice, and again and again. He drinks in the radiance of your grin; he relishes in the light of it.

“I know, and I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that, and I thought I was protecting you by bein’ like that.” He stops for a moment, shuffles forward and places his hands on your hips.

The feeling is familiar, good. Great floodgates open inside your heart, it flows through your chest, out to the tips of your fingers and toes. It envelops you. Your nails rake over his scalp and your fingers thread through his thick locks. A strangled groan escapes his lips when you give his hair a hefty tug. “I thought it’d be selfish if I went about it any other way… but…” Logan stops in his tracks, his need to taste more of you is completely overwhelming.

He licks, kisses and sucks down the expanse of your neck, stopping ever so briefly to graze his teeth along your collarbones. He steps back, succumbing to the urge to commit the marks he left on your skin to memory. “So fuckin’ beautiful.” He mumbles, the words barely above a whisper. His eyes move back up to yours and with a quick, sharp exhale, he’s back on you.

“But I don’t care. I don’t fucking care, baby.” Strong, calloused hands move under your shirt and Logan gropes your waist. He drinks you in, gasping, thirsting, yearning for you. Hazel eyes bore into your own, fierce desire barely concealed inside his steely gaze. “I need you so fucking bad… And I don’t care that I’m being selfish.” Logan lifts your shirt and discards it; his pupils dilate as more of your soft skin is exposed. “I’m a selfish bastard, and I want you all to myself. I can’t fucking get enough of you, princess.” His mouth moves down to your own, he captures your lips in a rough kiss. Logan licks his tongue into your mouth, desperately trying to capture your taste. He’s ravenous, a caged beast finally let loose. You moan out in pleasure into his mouth, his heart pounds against his ribcage.

Every fiber of his being burns for you. The very cells of his body scream out your name in worship. You are all-encompassing, you smother him in your splendor, and he still finds it hard to believe that you would even consider gracing him with your ethereal presence.

He is jagged, tainted. Fire and brimstone. All rough edges and serrated ends. You are soft, so fucking soft, he thinks to himself, and he has kept himself away for so long. But no longer. His cock strains against his dark wash jeans. A fiery blaze of need burns within his system, it crackles and frizzles, engulfing his very spirit. All he sees, all he smells, all he knows is you. He wants to fall into you and take you apart, just to put you back together again.

Logan’s hands move up to your breasts and he squeezes them once, twice, before slipping under your bra and rolling your peaked nipples between his pointer finger and his thumb. He drags his hands down, out, and to the clasps of your bra. The rough pads of his fingers leave a burning trail across your skin. Logan pulls the soft material off your body and discards with no more effort than a breath. His attention never falters, his gaze never strays. He’s finally admitting to you what he’s kept inside since the day he met you. The rumbling, snarling, rabid possessiveness that he convinced himself was wrong spurts out from him in leagues.

He wants to taste you, feel you, mark your skin so that the world can see who owns you. His lips trail down your neck and onto your chest, he takes a nipple into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it. His tongue laps against your tit, his lips suckle on the pebbled skin. Logan’s hand moves to tease your other nipple, and you gasp. Your head falls back, hitting the wall behind you, gasps and pants escape your lips. You look up to the heavens, which is just a slightly water-damaged ceiling in this shoddy excuse for a manager’s office, knowing that no divine light could shine as brightly as his eyes when he sees you. No promise of all the worlds riches could coax you away from the pleasure he gives you. The thought crosses your mind that perhaps he craves you as much as you crave him. Your back arches off the cool, off-white wall of the office as his free hand moves down to touch you under your skimpy excuse for a skirt.

Your panties are soaked, and a rumble resonates from his chest upon discovering this. “Wet for me already, baby?” He enquires, lips abandoning your tits for the soft slope of your neck, fingers moving under the thin material of your underwear and finding your clit. The tips of his index and middle finger circle over the sensitive bud. He presses soft, delicate kisses down from behind your ear to the expanse of your collarbones, his beard scratches along your skin delectably.

“Does my princess need me to touch her?” Logan drawls, his head tilts closer to you. His brows furrow in faux concern. “Hm?”

“Oh, fuck. Lo-” You start, but are quickly, rudely, deliciously, maddeningly cut off by the abrupt feeling of fingers moving inside your soaked cunt. A lewd moan escapes you and rings out through the small room, muffled only the tiniest bit by the music spilling in from under the door.

“This all for me? Huh, baby?” He teases, voice low as his fingers work your cunt.

All you are able to do is nod your head and let out a string of clumsily worded confirmations. Pleasure courses through your body. Your thighs shake from the intensity of it.

A smirk appears on his wickedly cruel lips, and he continues his ministrations on your clit. His fingers dip in between your folds every so often, gathering your slick to keep your clit wet. “There’s my girl… Always so fuckin’ good for me, aren’t you? So eager…” Logan continues thrumming your clit with the pads of his fingers, keeping a pace he knew you made you melt.

“Are you close already, baby?” He purrs, voice dropping lower. Lust practically spills from his words. He pumps his fingers into your sweet, dripping cunt. Logan shifts his gaze from watching his digits disappear into your cunt, over and over, to the blissed out, desperate look on your face. His rhythm remains steady as you start moving up and down on his fingers, chasing your high. He returns his focus to your clit, rubbing tight circles over the sensitive bud. Your hips stutter. The coil in your belly is taut- it tightens and winds and tenses and the burly man that looms above you, bound in denim and leather, talks you through your orgasm.

“There she is… good fuckin’ girl.” He keeps his pace steady, fingers reaching that soft, spongy part of you that almost always made you tip over the edge. “Always make me so proud, baby. You took my fuckin’ fingers so well, princess.” He cocks his head to the side and stares down at your trembling form, so clearly happy with the work he’s done.

Logan ushers you to the hardwood desk placed in the middle of the room, soon after you recover from the seismic orgasm he gave you. He lifts you to sit on the edge of the cluttered surface. “You alright, pretty girl?” He ducks his head down and lifts your chin with two fingers.

You bat your eyelashes at him, a hazy smile on your face, “Alright is… certainly one way to put it.”

He grunts, satisfied, moving his hands down to either side of you. He traps you between him and the desk. “Baby? I need you to know something.”

You tilt your head upwards and give him an encouraging nod.

“You’re not someone who should ever have to endure a casual relationship. Okay? You are… resplendent. You are everything anyone could ever want and infinitely more. I- I want to do so many fuckin’ things with you, alright? I don’t want to fuck and go home- I need you to be my woman. I need you to be on my arm and I need you to fucking dance with me. Seeing you with that guy-” Logan’s voice catches in his throat and he brings his fist to his heart and beats it against his chest a few times. “I couldn’t bear it. I cannot stand it to be without you, Y/N.”

“Logan?” You enquire, voice almost swallowed by your surprise. His name hangs, suspended, in the air for a moment before it is engulfed by the flood of his confession.

He couldn’t stop talking, not if he tried, not if he wanted to. He’d kept it all inside for so long and now, here you were- eyes wide and vulnerable, the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. “Fuck- I just- I promised myself I wouldn’t do this… You, baby, you’re so fucking good and pure, and I’ve got too much hurt on my heart to let you come close.”

“Are… are you scared I won’t be able to handle it?”

“I’m scared you will. I’m fuckin’ terrified that you see it and take it on and that taints you- that it hurts you to see what I’ve done.” His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip before his hand comes up to your face and cups your cheek gently.

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous, Lo.” You sigh, leaning into his touch, almost making light of the monumental declaration.

Logan is slightly taken aback by your callous statement, but it comforts him all the same. Of course, you wouldn’t shut him out because of his past, of course you’d be understanding and as wonderful as ever. He shakes his head, the corners of his mouth tilt upwards.

“Hm. That’s not something I’ve been called often, princess. You sure ‘ridiculous’ is the word you want to go with?” Logan’s thumb strokes your cheek softly- his touch, his eyes, everything is full of a gentleness that could only come from a man completely smitten.

“It’s a hill I am ready and willing to die on.” The bright smile on your face triggers an even brighter one on his. A rare sight. One that you hold close to your heart.

His heart swells, “I mean it though, baby. The only reason I kept you so far away was because of all of this shit.” He gestures to himself vaguely. Your stomach drops, the smallest amount.

“I want you, Lo. I want all of you.” His eyes shine, his heart soars upon hearing this. It’s all he’s ever wanted, he thinks. It’s certainly the thing he’s wanted most. “Will you let me have it, Logan?”

A quietness falls over the two of you. You smile at him, half-agony, half-hope. A blanket of heavy silence coats you and Logan in it’s warm embrace. He clenches his jaw, just once, before nodding. “Yes. Yes, baby. You can have it. Have me. I’ll give you anything you fuckin’ ask for if you keep lookin’ at me like that.”

You break out into simultaneous, smiling sighs of relief. Your hearts feel tethered to each other, an intangible connection present and strong between the two of you. “Logan…”

He nods, “Fuck, baby. That’s the prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever heard.” He draws you closer to him, his breathing suddenly jagged. “Say it again. Say my name again.”

You comply, the whirlpool of beautiful emotions swirling in your chest makes you stutter, “L-logan.”

“Again,” He demands. “Louder, princess.” He bends his neck to bring his lips down to your neck, they brush against the sensitive skin just below your ear. His hands roam across the expanse of your body. He takes handfuls of you and massages, his skilled fingers kneading your flesh. You feel a familiar heat pool in your belly as he moves his hands around you, it’s intoxicating. You give him what he wants, you cry out his name to the heavens- a declaration to God and man alike that Logan fucking owns you.

He guides your hand down to the bulge in his jeans, moving your wrist ever so slightly, encouraging you to cup his clothed cock. “You feel this, baby? Can you feel what you do to me?”

A desperate whimper falls from your lips at the utter filth he’s speaking. “F-fuck. Fuck me. You’re so fucking hard for me.”

Before you know it, you’re leaning against the table, back arched up, moaning, whimpering and babbling- begging for Logan to keep fucking you. He pumps his thick cock in and out of your soaking cunt. Filthy, wet noises of pleasure echo in the small room. He picks up his speed, hand coming down to smack your ass a few times. “Fuck, baby. Always so fuckin’ wet for me, aren’t you? My desperate fucking princess. You need this, don’t you? Tell me. Tell me how badly you need my cock.”

“Oh, fuck…” Your pussy clenches around him as those filthy words fall from his mouth and drip down onto you. “I fucking need- oh, God- I need you, Logan. I need you so fucking badly... Please, please make me cum.” Your voice is a mixture of wanton pleasure and fervent desire.

“You wanna cum, baby? You want to cream all over my fuckin’ dick? Hmm?”

You buck your hips back into him, he groans. The sound is rumbling and gruff and wanting.

“Fuck, princess.” He fucks himself into you harder, his dick hits your g-spot, and his hand moves around your body to allow his fingers to play with your clit. “You’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you? You gonna cum nice and hard for daddy?” His voice dips with the addition of the name he knew drove you wild.

He brings you right to the precipice with his rough, rhythmic thrusts and then, with all the power of a raging tidal wave, your orgasm hits you. Pleasure rocks though you from your core, you moan out lewdly. Loudly. You couldn’t give a fuck who heard you right now.

He preens, spurred on by the spasming of your pussy around his cock.

“Cum inside me, Logan. Oh God- pl-please.”

His hazel eyes go wide, and you swear you can feel something flip inside him. His thrusts become erratic, desperate. He wants this, he needs this. He would let himself fall into you a thousand times over. No amount of time spent with you would ever be enough. He feels something warm and light and pure and new spread through him. It ignites in his veins, seizes his muscles and courses through him. ‘Fuck, what is this? Am I fucking in love with this woman?’ He thinks to himself briefly. Logan leans forward, discarding his thought, too concerned with how good your luscious pussy feels wrapped around him. He presses hot kisses against your shoulder as he fucks you.

“Baby, baby I’m gonna- Oh fuck-” He spills inside you, hips slowing as his orgasm washes over him. He keeps his cock inside for a while- fucking his cum into you, relishing in the feeling.

He turns you over and presses the gentlest, most soulful kiss onto your lips. “You’re fucking perfect, princess. Did so good for me.” Logan praises.

You take a moment to catch your breath, your body sagging against his slightly. “Y-you… Logan Howlett… Are a different kind of animal.”

“Fuckin’ right I am.” You can practically hear the smirk in his words. He presses a tentative kiss to your forehead, then one on your cheek, and your other cheek and suddenly, your face is being cradled in his large hands, jaw nestled in the warmth of his palms.

“I’m yours, you know that, right?” your eyes lift to meet his.

“That’s all I ever wanted to hear, baby.” His eyes soften, a smile falls onto his lips. His heart thumps steadily in his chest. This is right, this was always right. Logan knows there’s no other alternative to this. You’re it, for him. “And uh- just for the record, princess... You’ve fuckin’ got me. You are everything, fucking everything. And I swear to God I’ll be the man you deserve.” Your simultaneous admissions sit together, twisting into each other and solidifying into something glorious.

The height you’re soaring at is dizzying, the fact that you get this man all to yourself- it is almost too much to comprehend. One final thought sits in your mind as Logan holds you close to him, hands stroking up your spine and lips whispering sweet words into your ears… Thank God this man was selfish.

Hi hi! Here's Part 2 as promised!! I hope yall like it <3

Xoxo, Viv

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