#tog x reader fluff

[shadowdaddies]

Reunited - Part III

Fenrys x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: After years of working as a spy in Adarlan, you are finally reunited with your cousin, Aelin, as you join the war to reclaim Terrasen and bring peace to Erilea. What you don't expect is to meet your mate in the middle of a war.

A/N: for those whom I told the next parts would be less angsty... that doesn't refer to this one I'm so sorry

Warnings: canon-typical violence, KOA spoilers

Your muscles were heavy from peaceful sleep, a satisfied smile gracing your lips as eyes fluttered open to see Aedion and Gavriel standing at the opposite side of the room from where you lay.

Forcing yourself to sit up, you looked around to find yourself in a tent, piles of blankets and furs draped over where you had been sleeping on the ground.

“She’ll be furious with you,” Aedion whispered, seemingly unaware that you had awoken. “But I thank you,” he ground out, the resistance clear in his tone as he looked to your father. 

Gavriel’s tawny eyes flicked to you, lined with sorrow as memories came rushing back. Your entire body heated with pure rage and fear, nails clawing into the covers of your makeshift bed as you tossed the covers away. 

“You,” you seethed, eyes wide and teeth bared as you stood to face Gavriel. It was Aedion who stepped between you, his eyes showing a vulnerability you had yet to see him reveal in front of your father. 

“I know you are upset. But for once,” he glanced pointedly at Gavriel, “he did the right thing. No good could have come from Maeve knowing that you are Fenrys’s mate.”

Hearing his name unleashed a wave of emotion, a lump catching in your throat as the bond screamed inside of you, longing for your other half. “He’s gone,” you whispered, voice breaking as painful, hopeless thoughts eddied in a whirlpool, threatening to drown you. “I may never truly know my mate, because of you,” you growled the last word, tone piercing Gavriel enough to make him flinch.

Aedion fully stepped in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks, covering your father from your view. “Listen to me. Maeve would have used you to torture him. She would have used you to torture Aelin. Saving him was not an option when he is so close to Maeve. Their blood oath is too strong.”

Your eyes shuttered as the hopeless realization crashed over you like an ocean wave knocking you below the surface. You stepped back, willing your thoughts to calm enough to look at Gavriel’s face, his expression full of guilt and worry. “I swear to you, we will find him. We will free him, if it is the last thing that I do.” He spoke with such conviction, you felt your heart soften, suddenly feeling guilty for how you had spoken to Gavriel.

Before you could find the words to apologize, Gavriel continued. “That is why we are headed north. Aedion leaves for Orynth shortly, but we will be joining Rowan along with Lorcan and Elide. So long as you feel that bond in your chest, we can use it to find Fenrys and Aelin.”

You nodded, shifting into the familiar mindset of a spy as you had lived for so long. “When do we leave?” 

A soft, proud smile graced Aedion’s lips, your brother pulling you in for a hug as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I leave now. I had just come to say goodbye,” he murmured. It was an all too familiar sentiment in your family - the sacrifice of leaving your loved ones in the name of duty. 

“Stay safe. I will see you soon,” you responded, not an encouragement, but an oath - one that you clung to, your chest tight as your brother disappeared out the tent. Gaze flicking to Gavriel, you raised your eyebrows in silent question.

“We leave as soon as Rowan returns from the neighboring town. He and Elide are there looking for information from the locals, and we will decide where to travel from there.” All you could manage was a nod, your emotions still roiling deep within underneath your calm facade. 

You packed in silence, Gavriel’s stare burning into your side as you avoided interaction. You had just finished packing and dismantling your tent when Rowan and Elide returned, their eyes lit with a similar wired determination as your own. 

Pine green eyes locked with yours, an unspoken understanding passing between you and Rowan - that the two of you would allow the world to burn to ash before you would allow it to take your mates.

“We’re leaving for Doranelle,” Rowan announced, brooking no room for questions before he helped load your and Elide’s bags onto horses. Giving Rowan a sharp nod, you followed suit, gathering necessities for the journey. 

The dying embers of the campfire the only trace of your existence in the forest, your group headed for Doranelle, Rowan letting out a cry as he shifted into hawk form, soaring above as you journeyed below. The day passed mostly in silence, tensions thick between you and your father, and Elide and Lorcan. 

At your request, Elide explained in brief detail why you were headed towards one of Maeve’s strongholds. She and Rowan had come across one of Maeve’s soldiers at an inn, but the shudder that passed through her when you asked for more told you all that you needed to know about how Rowan acquired that information, and you let the conversation drop.

The sun had long since set when fatigue weighed heavy on your bones, head aching from lack of food and rest. Gavriel sensed it, his too-knowing eyes scanning your sluggish movements, the limp that Elide was trying to hide. 

“We will stop here for the night,” he spoke, low voice not allowing any arguments, not that you could form any. You practically crashed into the ground where you stood at his words, Elide settling next to you as Lorcan gathered kindling. 

There remained little talk among the group. You couldn’t speak for others, but you knew that if you tried to speak, emotions would burst forth like water through a broken dam, the carefully maintained mask of strength you were wearing to be shattered into pieces. Gavriel, Lorcan, and Elide mumbled their good nights, while you and Rowan sat by the fire. 

The twisting, flickering flames held your attention in a captivating dance, the only distraction you could find from the constant agony you felt throughout your body, the unbearable weight of your mate’s pain echoing in each fiber of your soul.

You dared a glance at Rowan, his sharp eyes moving from the fire towards you. You supposed the fire meant something different to him - a reminder of his other half, the closest thing he had to her in this moment. It was a different kind of pain, but one that you could understand as the others did not.

“Do you feel her, too?” you managed, voice cracking through the strained whisper. Rowan’s brow dipped, confusion flickering across his features before understanding settled. 

“No,” he choked, and you worried that you had said the wrong thing. “No, I cannot feel her through the bond. I think whatever  But I know she is there, she is alive. That much I can feel.” A shaky breath escaped you, eyes lining with silver as you curled into your body, gaze focused back on the flames in front of you.

“Can you? Feel him?” Rowan pressed, voice soft as the night breeze. Your eyes squeezed shut, the only hope you had to keep those tears from falling, but one escaped, cold warm against your chilled skin as it traced your cheek.

“Yes,” you breathed, a sob building in your lungs as you gasped for air. “Yes, I feel everything. I feel his pain, I feel his loneliness, I-“

Words were stolen from your lungs as your chest seized, inexplicable pain, grief, bringing you to your knees. You were vaguely aware of Rowan’s presence, a warm hand on your back as sobs wracked your body. Wave after wave of grief and shame barreled into you, body shaking with the force of emotions being thrust upon you.

“Breathe,” Rowan murmured, his hand on your back a grounding comfort as the emotions faded, a distinct numbness filling your senses. Emptiness consumed your being, the only reminder that you were still alive the flames in front of you. 

Silver hair illuminated in the firelight, moving into your vision as Rowan kneeled in front of you. “Can you say... what happened?” he breathed, fear in his eyes as he dared the question.

“He’s not... he isn’t dead,” you managed, the knot in your chest loosening slightly as Rowan visibly relaxed. “Something terrible happened, Rowan. If what I felt was only a small part of what Fenrys is feeling...” Whatever hold you had on your own emotions was lost in that moment, tears falling freely as you cried.

Another hand landed on your shoulder, and you looked up through blurry eyes to see your father watching you, heartbreak written on his features. On instinct, you crashed into him, throwing your arms around Gavriel’s neck, breathing in his comforting scent. 

Conversations were happening in the background - Lorcan and Elide apparently also wakened by your cries - but you held onto your father, finding a small piece of solace in having him here.

Gavriel’s hand lifted, a canteen handed to him which he brought to your hands. “Here, drink this,” he murmured, tawny eyes observing carefully as your shaky hands gripped the vessel. Forcing small sips of water down your throat, breathing came easier, and you noticed Rowan, Lorcan, and Elide all standing nearby. 

“I’m not going to stay the night,” Rowan said, moving back towards where you sat. “If you want to rest, Gavriel will stay with you and Elide. But if you-“

“I’m going with you,” you interrupted. Rowan merely nodded, as thought your response was exactly what he expected. Lorcan was already moving, packing and loading supplies as Rowan’s power suffocated the fire.

You walked in line with Gavriel, leaves and sticks crunching under your boots as owls hooted against the still-darkened sky. “I can feel him, still,” you murmured, eyes downcast at your scuffed, muddied shoes. “I feel him, but it’s different than before. He’s... hollow. It’s like this numbness, and I can’t reach his end of the bond, so I don’t know if he can feel me.” 

Your eyes burned with tears you were too drained to shed when Gavriel grabbed your hand, turning you to stop and look up at him. “Do not give up. I know it hurts, I know what Maeve is capable of. But please, be better than me. Fight for Fenrys. He deserves that. You deserve that. And we will find him, and Aelin.”

Pushing up on your toes, you placed a kiss to your father’s cheek, your eyes never leaving his as you spoke. “You did the right thing. I have already mourned a childhood without you, but I’ve been allowed to know you now, and I am so thankful for a father as selfless as you, who was willing to sacrifice seeing his children grow to keep us safe. You didn’t give up, and I will not either.”

You both turned, heads snapping forward towards the road ahead as Gavriel cleared his throat, eyes shining with emotion as you continued the rest of your walk in silence.

By the time you arrived in Doranelle, your feet hurt like never before, entire body sore from long travels and lack of sleep. Your group hid in the trees just outside the main road through town. Elide turned to you, a fire in her eyes that lit one in your chest. 

“The males are too recognizable, so you will all stay out here and keep a low profile while I go into town. I’m going to see if anyone has information about Cairn’s location, because we know he’s with Aelin and Fenrys.”

You shook your head. “I’m coming with you. You’re not going alone into town, and it would be suspicious if you were by yourself.” You looked around, Lorcan giving you a grateful smile while Gavriel opened his mouth as if to argue. Before he could say anything, you took Elide’s hand and set off towards town.

Doranelle was bustling, people shopping and selling throughout the streets, men calling for your attention as the two of you walked at a brisk pace, eyes and ears open for any sign of danger.

Multiple groups of people shuffled in the same direction, your gaze following their movements towards a pub that appeared to be full of travelers and locals alike. “That’s where we should go,” you murmured to Elide, her dark eyes joining yours as she studied the tavern’s entrance.

Releasing your hand, Elide led the way into the building, instructing you to take a seat wherever you could find one as she took the lead. You found a small booth, thankful for the weight off your feet and even the rancid beer a barmaid slid your way.

It was pure entertainment, a respite from the hellish reality you had been living lately, as you watched Elide put on a show of the helpless maiden. Batting her long lashes, giving shy smiles, she wrung any information she could from the tavern’s patrons while you kept watch.

Everyone seemed taken by her story, the heartbroken lover of Maeve’s general, except for one female. She lounged at one of the tables, chestnut brown eyes watching Elide with a keen, quiet interest. And then Elide mentioned Cairn.

A hush fell over the room, the mood instantly sobering at the mention of the newest member of Maeve’s cadre. Expressions turned cold, even sour as people closed themselves off to Elide’s charm. They definitely knew something, and as you watched Elide excuse herself to the washroom, you caught the striking female with chestnut eyes from before stand up quickly, dark brown hair flowing around her as she turned and followed Elide down the hall.

You were quick behind her, dagger sheathed discreetly at your side. Using your blade, you wedged open the door to the washroom to find Elide wide-eyed, tension thick in the air as she and the female stared at each other. 

Your blade quickly found the female’s neck, your foot kicking the door shut behind you. “Who are you, and what do you know?” you questioned, voice lethally calm.

The female didn’t struggle, her demeanor relaxed as she spoke. “My name is Essar. I mean no harm - I simply wanted to warn your friend to stay away from Cairn. But it appears she is better protected than I believed.” 

Her voice remained calm as she dared to turn towards you, unbothered at how your blade dug further into her skin. “Why do you look for Cairn, truly?”

Your gaze hardened on Essar, assessing the trustworthiness of this new character. “That would depend. What is he to you?” you asked, releasing her so slightly from your hold.

A scoff escaped her lips, nearly a slight laugh as though your question was absurd. “He is nothing to me. And Maeve is less than nothing,” she ground out, venom lacing her tone. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips at her spite. 

“We have business to attend to regarding Cairn,” you murmured, gaze flicking towards the door to check it was closed. 

A knowing gleam shone in Essar’s eyes. “You have Gavriel’s eyes,” she whispered, clearing her throat as she studied you and Elide. “Cairn is at the camp just north of town. He was seen there this morning.”

It was an effort to not let your surprise show, but somehow you knew that you could trust Essar. Hope sprang in your chest, as though the bond was confirming Fenrys was close. “Thank you,” you murmured, to Essar, hand reaching for the doorknob as you gestured for Elide to follow.

“Give them Hell,” Essar said, chin raised proudly. You gave her a final nod of thanks before slipping out the door. Elide could barely keep up with your pace as you raced through town, back to the edge of the woods where the males waited. Now that you knew where Fenrys was, nothing could hold you back from finding him.

You were both short of breath, struggling to explain all that Essar had shared with you at the tavern. “I believe her,” you said, looking to Rowan and Gavriel for validation. But it was Lorcan whose eyes grew soft as you spoke of the female you had met, the other males looking to Lorcan for only a brief moment before Rowan cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him.

“We can trust her,” he said. “I’ll take to the skies. You follow my lead - we’ll walk around town to avoid running into Maeve’s soldiers for now.”

Heart pounding in your chest, you watched as Rowan launched into the air, your group quietly following the path of the hawk as it led you around the edge of town. Sounds of soldiers running drills, sparring, blacksmiths at work all filled your ears as rows and rows of tents came into view. 

Breath caught in your lungs, the twist of hope and fear electric as it shot through your body. A warm hand wrapped around yours, and you looked down as Gavriel gave it a comforting squeeze. “I am with you,” he whispered.

Words evaded you, but you managed to nod to your father - a silent acknowledgment: "I am with you, too."

Scanning the grounds of the camp, you searched for a way in. There were too many tents, too many places Fenrys and Aelin could be. But your thoughts were interrupted by the bloody cry of a hawk, and before your mind could catch up to your body, you found yourself running, sword drawn, towards the center of camp where Rowan flew.

Soldiers charged you, your adrenaline pumping as you cut them down one by one. Red flooded your gaze as you saw a shell of a female, weighed in familiar iron shackles as she stumbled out of a tent on thin legs. 

Blood pounded in your ears, the faint sound of Lorcan yelling at your side all that you could register as Aelin ran towards you. You couldn’t stop the flow of tears as you locked eyes with your cousin through the iron mask she wore, heart somehow shattered and whole at the sight of her, alive yet broken.

“Fenrys,” she choked. “Fenrys!” Aelin’s voice cried. She whipped around like a wild animal caught in a trap, yelling at Rowan and Lorcan, pleading for them to find your mate. 

You rose to chase after him, but Rowan’s pleading look settled that rage within you - he would find your mate while you protected his. And so you watched him run through the camp with Lorcan, a beautiful storm of chaos as the warriors partnered seamlessly in battle. 

The clanking of chains pulled you from your daze, Aelin scratching at her binds. “Take it off take it off take it OFF,” she screamed, voice hoarse as she chanted violently. Rowan appeared by her side, his hands working as they tried to find an opening on the mask. Rowan.

Your eyes went wild, an unexplainable ache carving itself into your chest as you stood, spinning clumsily while you searched for any sign of Fenrys. The sight of white fur on the ground, Gavriel leaning over the wolf who lay, covered in blood and barely breathing snapped something within you. 

As your father gave you a helpless look, the world cleaved in two, as though half of your soul was ripped from your chest. Collapsing to the ground, your hand wove in Fenrys’s fur as onyx eyes gazed at you, unblinking. 

There was no room in your heart for more tears at this point. Everything had been taken from you - so you lay there, watching the last hope you had for a future, for love, as he faded away.

You didn’t head the commotion behind you as Rowan managed to break the Wyrd marks locking Aelin’s chains, how she crawled weakly to Fenrys’s side across from you. The words, “live, Fenrys. Live,” echoed through your head, Aelin’s voice like a helpless prayer.

And then he blinked. Gold flecks shone in his eyes, chest rising slowly as your mate released a soft whine. Your heart burst with joy, love pouring from your end of the bond as you were finally able to reach Fenrys.

Your hand reached out to him just as he shifted into his human form, long blonde curls fallen across his beautiful face as he stared at you. “Is this real?” he rasped, and you nodded, a broken laugh escaping as you sat up, pulling Fenrys’s head into your lap as his hands found yours, holding onto them like a lifeline.

“He’s gone,” Fenrys whispered, his gaze distant. You felt it then - the hollow feeling, the numbness you had felt through the bond. “Connall,” he murmured, eyes finding yours as a tear rolled down his cheek, and you understood. Fenrys had lost a part of himself - Maeve had taken so much from your mate.

“I will kill her,” you vowed. 

Fenrys’s hand lifted to brush your cheek. “You were my hope. The only strength I found to keep going.” 

Taking his hand from your cheek, you pressed a kiss to his palm. Flames danced in your eyes. “For what she did to you, to Connall, to Aelin. She will burn.”

Author’s Note: I took a break from this series and don’t know if a part 4 will happen. Sorry to disappoint anyone, but there are no immediate plans for this series to continue.

tag list: @hellodarling1357 @sassyslytherinshai

[utterlyotterlyx]

A Ballad of Storm and Shadow

Azriel x F!Reader

Part Six

Series Summary - Rhys had been content in taking the darkest secret of his family to the grave, but when the threat of Hybern increases, he has no choice but to send a message to another world and pray to the Mother that his call is answered.

Warnings - mentions of pain, mentions of death, mentions of torture, angstttt, sadness, fluff

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

This is a crossover series, some aspects will differ from that in the books. Physical attributes are described in this fic, it is essential to the storyline of the character

It had taken 17 hours for y/n to stir.

17 hours of Azriel sat at her bedside hating himself for allowing her to venture from the cabin alone and picturing himself grabbing her hand at the last second to stop her from leaving him.

17 hours of verbal beatings which would have been physical if it weren’t for his refusal to leave her side.

Aelin was furious, her wildfire blazing as blue as her eyes across each one of her limbs.

Rowan hadn’t spoken a single word, but his eyes didn’t leave Azriel for one moment, and he hadn’t unclenched his fists from the moment he had stepped foot into Prythian and scented the direness of the situation at hand.

Lorcan and Aedion also refused to move from the room, being her bloodsworn they had a duty to protect and serve her, and they felt as if they had failed in a sense.

Then there was Manon, the gold eyed witch queen with talons so sharp that they had drawn blood from Azriel’s arms when they coiled around him and demanded to know what had happened with a voice so venomous that he was sure she would drink his blood if she could.

In short, everyone despised him, and even Rhys was reluctant to offer a safe hand to his brother. Azriel understood, Rhys had only just gotten his sister back, and was feeling like a failure in his own way for sending her in the first place. Rhys was so ashamed of his request that he had allowed Aelin to preside over y/n’s care with Yrene, as well as the scouting missions she had ordered Rowan and Manon to embark upon to ensure that no attack would befall the city whilst y/n was injured and vulnerable.

The last 17 hours hadn’t been kind to y/n. Black poison poured from the bandages secured around her chest and abdomen, which meant that Yrene had to change them more often, and a fever so damning had taken over her body, causing the Queen of the Erilean Fae to sweat and shake uncontrollably whilst her body fought an internal war to win back her life. It was horrible to watch, and it all could have been avoided if Azriel had been there, flying below her and ensuring no one could pick them out of the skies, or if Rhys hadn’t sent them to begin with.

Azriel could picture it. A fond and vivid image of y/n flying above him. The rain would cause her raven black hair to stick to her skin, but it was the thin wisps of baby hair that stuck to her forehead that made the faintest of smiles to appear on Azriel's lips. Y/N seemed so unbothered up there, so... at home. Much like he found solace in the shadows, she found songs in the storms. A peace that could never be tainted.

That's what he willed himself to see when he looked upon her pallid, fever-stricken face. He willed himself to see the version of her that she would have wished. One where she was happy. One where she was plagued by serenity.

None of them could pinpoint how Hybern had known that y/n was in Prythian, or how they knew that she even existed in order to create the only poison that could be used to weaken and fatally harm her. Even Yrene had uttered that the ingredients were sparse even within Erilea. It meant that someone had spent valuable time collecting and crafting in order to inflict the pain onto y/n. Azriel swore to himself that whoever it was would die for it in the most curdling manner his mind could fathom.

It was within the thirty second minute that she stirred, her kaleidoscope orbs appearing beneath her fluttering lids and a small groan of torturous pain emitting from her lips. Azriel moved from the chair beside her to the mattress in a matter of seconds, disturbing the peace by shouting into the void for Lorcan and Aedion to call for Yrene, and the healer came quickly at their demands barrelling down the halls.

Yrene was closely followed by Aelin and Manon, the latter of which growled once she spied Azriel’s marred flesh tainting the purity of her queen. The red cloak of Manon swept against the stone beneath her feet, her claws were retracted but her teeth were poised to rip the throat out of anyone who got too close, Azriel included. Not wasting a moment, Yrene crossed the room whilst fastening her apron at her back, reaching out to lay her hand on y/n’s forehead and stealing it back with a hiss and the scent of burning flesh. “How are you holding her?” Yrene asked, perplexed, holding her burnt hand to her chest.

To Azriel, y/n felt hot, but not searing, not burning. From the beads of sweat that teared down her pallid cheeks, he knew that she was struggling to fight off the poison and the infection that came with it.

The Shadowsinger didn’t answer.

Instead, he kept his hazel eyes upon her face, tracing the slow beat of her eyelids and the quaking of her gasping lips as she attempted to form a word. “Y/N,” Azriel cooed gently, causing y/n to stop trembling for a moment, “To me,” he told her, pulling her darting eyes from the ceiling and to his face, “You need to save your energy and rest. Close your eyes and sleep. Let Yrene heal you.”

It wasn’t as much as a command as it was a plead, but she listened, shakily nodding her head and shivering into slumber, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

He felt the golden eyes of the witch queen on the side of his face, Manon couldn’t understand how y/n hadn’t noticed her at her side, she couldn’t understand how y/n’s eyes found Azriel instantly over her own. Azriel moved his gaze to meet those orbs of gold and speckled black, refusing the back down even if he did find her terrifying. “She needs Doranelle,” Manon spoke, not to Azriel despite him being in her eye line, but to Aelin who stood behind her, and to Rowan who was propped against the doorway.

“We’re stuck here,” Aelin reminded her, making it clear that she had already thought the same but knew it was impossible without y/n’s power to rip open the fabric of space and time to take them there. Aelin dropped to her knees beside y/n, the fire coursing through y/n’s veins battling against her own, and she ran her fingers down the side of her face, worry clear and fear prominent. “This King,” Aelin spat, “Knows what he has done. Your war will be coming sooner than you think, and he’ll seek to destroy her along with it.”

“I won’t let him,” Azriel growled, tone low and threatening, and eyes peeking through the thickness of his lashes whilst his hand kept entwined with y/n’s like he was her link back to the land of the living.

Aelin honed in on Azriel, drinking in the dark possessiveness in his eyes and the way his shadows flitted over the skin of her dearest friend, almost as if they were trying to shield her from the world.

It wasn’t like Aelin truly blamed the Shadowsinger for what happened to y/n, she knew first hand just how difficult she could be when it came to anything she felt determined to do. In all honesty, Aelin blamed Rhys the most and had told him plenty of times of the fact. Y/N was Rhys’ sister, he knew how important she was to other worlds let alone his own, and he willingly put her in danger. Such motions threatened the survival of Prythian, and by extension, Erilea.

The feelings of Aelin were probably why Rhys had stayed away, waiting for the rest of them to leave for the evening before spending the night at her side, reading and telling her stories of their father and sister to then only leave at the break of dawn when Lorcan and Aedion would arrive. Azriel was the only one who stayed every minute of every hour, refusing to be anywhere else, out of guilt or desperation Aelin would never truly know, but part of her was thankful for it.

Do you see it?

Aelin craned her head over her shoulder to find Rowan’s orbs fixated on the pallid body of his friend and former princess, a woman he had spent centuries protecting and training. His sight pulled from her to Aelin and he nodded, eyes flickering to Azriel who had turned all of his attention back to y/n.

Yes.

The yawning of Aedion who was sprawled across a chair in the far corner halted Aelin from probing Rowan further. The unimpressed guise of the chamber fell upon him, “Tired, Cousin?”

Aedion shrugged, motioning to Lorcan with a wave of his hand, “She’s funnelling our energy through the bond. Forgive us for feeling a little lethargic, Aelin.”

“What do you mean? She’s funnelling your energy?” Azriel asked, brows furrowed and trying to grasp the meaning in his mind.

Sighing, Aelin explained, “Y/N is incredibly powerful,” she smiled upon y/n sadly, “There are aspects of her power that she refuses to use, abilities of the darkness that she inherited from her mother, Maeve. She can absorb strength from those sworn to her and from those who offer their power to her,” Aelin nodded toward Aedion and Lorcan with her eyes softening, “Y/N is absorbing the strength and energy from Aedion and Lorcan, they are her bloodsworn, and her body is in such a bad way that it seems the dark spots of her power are grasping onto anything they can to keep her alive.”

“It’s happened before?”

Aelin smiled thinly, trying to offer some comfort to Azriel who was beginning to understand the pain inflicted upon the woman before his eyes, but before Aelin could reply, Manon’s voice echoed between them. “Once. She was in a much worse state after she destroyed Maeve, her power was drained for the first time in her life, and she was severely injured from what Maeve did before the battle. All of that put her into a state of comatosis. It took her weeks to wake.” From the heaviness of Manon’s recount, Azriel knew just how close they were, all of them, so he understood why they blamed him, hated him.

“I’m sorry that I let her leave the cabin. I’m sorry,” Azriel spoke, staring right into Manon and trying to decipher whatever emotion lay within those cold golden orbs.

Rising to his feet, Aedion crossed the room, nudging a lingering Rowan on the way, “It’s fine. Y/N is a stubborn thing, she’s pulled the wool over all of our eyes at some point.”

“Like when she sacrificed herself to secure my freedom?” Aelin asked with a smile, leaning to run her fingers along y/n’s arm.

“Or when she trailed the ilken following Elide and I and slaughtered them all without us even realising it?” Lorcan huffed with amusement, creeping closer to the bed with humour in his eyes and his arms firmly folded over his chest.

“Then there’s Skull’s Bay,” Rowan almost sang, the words being the first noise he had made since he had arrived in Velaris and the room hummed in fond remembrance.

“And we won’t ever forget how she took possession of that burst dam and swallowed Maeve along with it. She saved us all that day, even when she was barely alive,” Manon spoke softly, a speckle of humanity shining through her soul shrouded in stone, “She’s family,” was all the witch queen said, an olive branch of sorts, an explanation as to why she had been so difficult.

Noting the concern in Azriel’s eyes, Aelin lay a hand upon his shoulder, gentle but unyielding, “She’s survived worse, Shadowsinger. Don’t underestimate her, you won’t survive the humiliation.”

Silenced followed after that, well, silence for Azriel at least. Whilst he traced the contours of her face, the rest of the room spent some time reminiscing, talking fondly of Erilea which Azriel somewhat listened to but didn’t engage with. All he could really wonder was what place could be so worthy of someone so perfect, and part of him wanted to walk the streets of Doranelle for a moment so that he would be able to understand it.

Only when Yrene would periodically swim by would Azriel lift his eyes to give her a thankful smile that she would return with an unspoken warmth. It seemed as though y/n had a family of her own, just like he did, a family not of blood, but of unbroken bonds and unyielding wrathful friendship. They’d all die for one another, it was something Azriel could resonate with.

After an hour, the doors to the chamber opened and Feyre stepped in, fumbling with her fingers and eyes floating through the room until they landed on Azriel and Y/N, and she found her heart fluttering at the way he looked at her, it reminding her of how Rhys’ gaze embedded itself into her at all times.

The expectant void of words caused Feyre to float back into the room, “Rhys would like a meeting. We should discuss next steps in this war and in y/n’s recovery. Yrene can stay with her, it won’t take long.” Aelin rolled her eyes but stood, muttering something about a false king under her breath which caused Rowan to chortle a laugh as they passed by Feyre. “You too, Az.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Yrene told him softly once she realised the reluctance in his eyes and the way his fingers curled tighter around her hand, “If anything happens, I’ll call for you. I promise.”

Stiffly nodding, Azriel stood from his seat that was imprinted with his frame, he pressed his lips tenderly to the pallid and slightly bruised knuckles of y/n before laying her hand softly upon the mattress and following after Feyre, stealing one last look at the fussing Yrene as her glowing hands floated over y/n’s torso yet again.

Azriel trailed behind the group, lingering at the side of his High Lady as they all sauntered through the halls of the House of Wind. Whilst pacing through the fortress, Azriel couldn't help but allow his gaze to float between each one of the other-worldly beings. Beginning with Aelin and tracking how her arm slid around Rowan's waist, to Rowan who placed a tender kiss upon her brow, to Aedion and Lorcan who were bustling shoulder to shoulder, clearly being too large for the width of the halls, and then there was Manon, red cloak swaying at her back and moon-white hair braided over her shoulder whilst her eyes darted past every doorway like she could see beyond them.

Yes, Azriel was very sure of y/n's safety being almost a guarantee.

With all of his watching and observing, he didn't notice the eyes of Feyre drifting over his face with a quirked smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, "You don't leave her side. Why?" Feyre asked quietly, catching how his eyes thinned slightly as he searched his mind for an answer that would appease her.

"I feel guilty," he tried to say, but the heaviness of his voice betrayed his words.

Feyre gently slipped her arm around his, resting her fingers on the indent of his elbow and pulling him into her side softly. "No. I don't think that's why," she gave him a pointed look, one loaded with knowing, "You feel something for her, despite only knowing her for a few days. What draws you to her?"

A more adequate question would be what didn't draw Azriel to y/n?

"I wasn't sure at first. If you had asked me why I couldn't concentrate at the High Lord's Meeting then I would have told you the truth. It was because of her. Not because she was new, or because I thought she was a threat..." Azriel trailed off, his voice softening and shoulders falling lax, like all tension had floated away, "It was because looking at her made me feel like I was finally home. There is a warmth within her, and a darkness that mirrors my own. She is fierce and tortured, but gentle in ways no one would ever be able to begin to understand. Y/N has spent her life fighting, being used for what she can offer but not being appreciated for who she is, and I think that I understand that."

"So, you seek to protect her?"

"No," Azriel sighed, looking to Feyre with a sparkle in his eyes that she'd never though she would ever get to witness, "Well, yes. But I seek to give her a life free of torment. A life of love and one void of the restraints of her station. I seek to be her freedom, Feyre."

The High Lady of the Night Court found herself blushing from sheer excitement. Feyre had noticed it the moment y/n had waltzed into their lives, limbs exposed and hair flowing, eyes glowing with the light of a thousand storms; she had seen something spark, a cog falling into place after so long tumbling around without purpose.

"Does it help that she is the most beautiful thing to walk the universe?"

Azriel scoffed, "Her beauty is incomparable to what lies beneath it," he told Feyre, glancing sidelong with a smirk, "But I suppose she isn't half bad to look at."

Feyre tried to conceal her chuckle behind her hand as they both entered the dining room that Rhys had converted into a meeting room for the sake of convenience.

It was clear that sleep had escaped him, and what was even more pristine was the fact that Aelin could not have cared less about it as she took her place at the head of the table, further solidifying her position as leader of their little merged group. Rhys didn't contest, instead he simply moved to the opposing end, motioning for Azriel and Feyre to take a place either side of him.

A usually convivial dining table now swimming with discontent from two sides.

Aelin assumed her usual position. Legs propped against the tabletop. Arms folded over her chest. Dagger gleaming in the pale lights and reflecting upon the ceiling. A warning. A dare.

"Have you figured it out yet?" Aelin's head curled to meet Rhys' sight, "Have you figured out how this world knew of her and the only thing that can weaken her?"

Silence consumed the room like thick onyx poison, drowning and dimming all forms of barely there happiness. Rhys shuffled in his seat. He had to send himself on such a mission since he knew that Azriel refused to leave his sisters side, and he had come up empty handed.

The location of y/n's downfall had been left void of any traces of armies and magic, the only sign of this incident occurring being the blood soaked earth where Rhys had stood for an hour cursing himself for even thinking about sending her away when he had only just gotten her back.

If he could, he would go back and rip the order from his mouth. He'd carve out his own tongue to keep her hidden.

"No," Rhys spoke roughly with a throat that hadn't been quenched by water in what felt to him like days. "I assure you that such knowledge has never reached Prythian. I sent word to Helion and Thesan, enquiring if such a poison were in any of their libraries. There isn't."

Lorcan scoffed and glanced to Rowan who had his lip curled upward into a snarl from his place beside Aelin, "And you believe them?"

Sprinkles of magic littered the air, casting a faint shimmer that filled the spaces of the open arched windows whilst the faint sound of laughter from the mouths of little ones echoed upward to the House of Wind.

"I do," Rhys gulped. The High Lord of the Night Court ran a hand down his face that was soaked with exhaustion. "Helion and Thesan aren't only High Lords of Prythian. They are friends of the Night Court, and their lives have been dedicated to research and healing. They would never withhold such information."

"Forgive me for not believing a word of it," Aelin muttered, fingers tracing along the hilt of the dagger on the table. "Your enemy knew that she would come. He knew she would come looking for him, and he knew exactly how to ensure her death. If it weren't for that last burst of power that brought Aedion and Lorcan to her position, she'd be gone." Aelin leant forward in her seat, feet falling flat against the ground and venom laced in her words.

"You foolish man. Sending not only your long lost sister but our queen into the belly of a beast without being able to ensure her safety. Your world isn't the only one at stake here. If she cannot recover from this then your world will perish, and our world will have lost its fiercest warrior."

Manon chuckled, pulling the attention of the room to her, and Cassian who was placed beside her leant away from the talons she was running the pads of her fingers down lazily. "In other words, if she dies here, we'll ensure that you do too. Or well, I will," Manon flashed her iron teeth at Rhys, causing Feyre to shift uncomfortably in her seat as her fingers became entwined in his own, allowing her power to ebb and flow from her essence in response to Manon's threat.

Remembering his position, Azriel's eyes manoeuvred over Manon, then Aedion and Lorcan whose fists were clenched but possessed tired eyes, before landing on Aelin and Rowan who were struggling to contain themselves. Tendrils of shadow scattered over his shoulders, dancing wildly in a brisk wind from an opened door, sauntering up and down and shaking in rhythm with a silent, reverberating thumping that was grasping at and rattling his bones.

"I think it would be wise to refrain from talking to my brother like that," the room collectively snapped its gaze to the doorway, and Aelin rose to her feet instantly.

Before them all stood a pale but healing y/n. She was grasping at her side but walked forward with a pride Aelin had never seen before, not in someone who was hours ago so close to the grave. There was something dark about her, the power itself or the contrast of her hair and eyes against her whitened skin Aelin wasn't sure. But what was clear was that she knew something, the truth and ire dancing in the dimness of her eyes. Something that could change the course of all of their fates.

Y/N's silver skirt kissed the ground as she stopped at Rhys' side, laying her hand atop his shoulder and squeezing it weakly, "I can understand being protective," y/n moved her eyes around the room, slowly raking over each one of her Erilean family, "But don't be mistaken into believing that threatening my blood is big or wise. I decided to take to those skies alone. It is my doing and mine alone."

Azriel felt his heart stop when her eyes finally found him, and he stood instantly, offering his arm and seat and feeling a sense of completeness when she accepted his touch and found comfort in the sensation of his presence behind her.

"Y/N-"

"I'm not finished," a voice of dread and death cut through the plea that fell from Aedion's lips, a voice of a ruler, a voice of one of the most deadly beings the universe would ever know. Inhaling deeply, y/n closed her eyes for a moment, as though she was preparing herself for something, and in sensing her discomfort and hesitation, Azriel lay his hand at the top of her spine, allowing every emotion and ounce of pain to wash through his veins.

Y/N visibly relaxed.

"In my sleep, the attack played in my mind over and over again, not like a nightmare, but in a way to make me see the truth. To push me to see beyond the pain," her eyes were downcast, but she moved backward into Azriel's hand, feeling a blanket of certainty and warmth coiling around her frame. "When I was flying over their camp, I felt the power of the cauldron. It was a drowning feeling, it made me feel confused almost, and I felt a certain type of dread. I was scared."

Y/N's eyes dragged down the table, settling on Rowan with eyebrows tight and fear visible within her irises. "There has only ever been one form of power that has ever made me feel like that. Maybe I was too wrapped up in what was happening to realise it."

"What are you saying, y/n?" Rowan urged, knuckles turning pale from his grip around the arms of his chair.

Without thinking about it, y/n's fingers faintly traced over the scar that had held Azriel's attention in the cabin. A morbid reminder.

"Dorian and I had a theory. That souls from our world didn't pass on into the afterlife but rather fell through the plains separating Erilea from other worlds. It had only ever really been a theory, but it was something that we couldn't stop thinking about. It haunted us in a way."

Because they had both lost a parent.

"But being here now with a poison in my veins so putrid and complex that no one from this world could have ever known of it. I realise what is happening." Aelin leaned forward, gaze flickering over the face of her friend until their eyes met. "There is only one person who knows how to make it. Only one person who would find joy in seeing me dead. Only one person who would seek to ensure the upmost pain. Only one person whose power terrifies me."

Aelin's eyes blew wide. "No," she spoke a hush above a whisper, "It can't be. She's dead. You killed her."

"What's going on?" Rhys entwined his fingers with those of his sister, feeling her fear bristling against the walls of her mind like a battering ram, splintering and wrecking the cage of her consciousness.

Realisation was floating about the room, to all those bar the Inner Circle. Rowan's head hung low, his eyes closed and nostrils flaring with each inhale and exhale, and Aedion couldn't lift his eyes from the tabletop.

"Maeve is here. My mother has come to punish me by devouring your world. Only when you're all dead will she kill me, and then can she conquer Erilea for the final time. Who knows, she might even keep me alive long enough to watch Doranelle and Terrasen burn." Y/N turned to Rhys, bottom lip almost wobbling, "I'm sorry. This is happening because of what I did."

Rhys dropped to his knees before her, taking her burning face in his hands and stroking his thumbs along her cheekbones. "We'll face it. We'll face her. And may the Mother grant her some mercy when I get my hands on her." He read the depleting light in her eyes, knowing that whatever energy she had been granted was wavering. "Let's get you back to bed. We can face this tomorrow. We still have time."

The High Lord of the Night Court went to hook an arm beneath his sisters arms, but she wrenched herself away to the side, still under the touch of Azriel, and looked upward to him. It was a silent plead, the widened watering eyes and a gentle shrug that lifted her shoulders.

Azriel moved instantly, scooping y/n into his arms and hugging her tightly into his chest, propping his chin on the crown of her head as he wordlessly carried her away.

Author's Note

I know it's been ages and I'M SO SORRY

Taglist

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[qwimblenorrisstan]

Home, At Last | Azriel & WitchDaughter!Reader

Summary: Unbeknownst to Azriel, an encounter he had with a witch nearly three centuries ago will come back to haunt him when his shadows begin speaking of you, his “daughter”, a witch in danger of being thrown out of her coven.

Word Count: ~ 3.5k

Warnings: Mentions of rape, stillborn baby, pregnancy, abuse, branding, witches, sharp stuff, birth, death, major trauma and angst, injuries, ends kinda good tho (PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP W/ AZ AND READER)

A/N: Ok I feel like I’m scamming y’all bc reader is actually Az’s granddaughter but they have more of a father-daughter relationship in the ends…this is like super sad in the beginning but there’s comfort in the end and a bit of fluff, hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

From the moment his shadows had begun whispering and speaking of rumors, Azriel hadn’t been surprised.

Of course, he was surrounded by rumors, he was the infamous shadowsinger, the Spymaster of Night Court who’d been alive for centuries and lived through several wars, a male who’d murdered thousands in his lifetime. But these rumors seemed a bit more real than the others, more realistic, or at least his shadows thought so.

‘She is small, with hazel eyes like ours’

They whispered to him, conjuring up images in his mind, images of a young teenage female, one of gleaming iron, with hazel eyes and midnight black hair.

He didn’t understand how or why he would have a child.

With any lover he took, he always ensured that the protection was flawless, whether it be condoms, birth control pills, or pulling out on time, he was careful with all of it. He knew he wasn’t ready for a child, and he didn’t want to have one anytime soon, let alone with a female he wasn’t mated with.

But there was one instance. One completely out of his control, an experience he would never forget.

It had been in the midst of the first Great War, he’d been sent on a mission, a secretive one to gather information, by Rhysand’s father, the High Lord at the time. It had all gone perfectly, he’d gotten in, and out, but he’d made a small pitstop on a little side of a high mountaintop to gather water, as he had been feeling a bit nauseous due to the lack of it for many hours.

The female had moved so quickly he hadn’t even been able to notice her until he was on the ground, and saw her iron teeth and nails come down over their normal counterparts a second too late before they were against his Jugular, the witch smiling wickedly above him as she crooned into his ear.

“Quite the catch. I haven’t seen a male like you in centuries,”

She had purred into his ear, her sharp nails tracing over where the Illyrian tattoos were visible on the lower half of his neck, and some of his shoulders. Overcome with nausea and fatigue from nonstop missions, not to mention the deadly witch that could easily slaughter him, he could do nothing but remain silent and blank as he could while the witch had her way with him. That was a key belief of their kind, that men were only good for breeding and food, nothing more.

He’d tried to forget about it, tried his very hardest, but now it seemed it was coming back to bite him. It was odd that his shadows hadn’t picked anything up sooner. That event had been nearly 300 years ago, and if that witch had somehow sired his child, survived the birth with the wings, and raised it…

He was getting ahead of himself. Maybe it was just a mishap with a normal lover, not the sadistic witch who’d raped him so long ago.

And if it was….he’d find her.

*********************************************************

Normal occurrences in the witch camps had always been chaotic, but you were bound to notice more when you were actively looking out for it.

Daily sparring, sharpening of iron teeth or nails, fights, meals, and hunting times. It had all been so painfully normal to you before you’d gotten pregnant. It had been a human man, one you’d met while scoping out a new area for the Matron. He’d been drunk, and you, like any other witch of your coven, had taken advantage of that fact.

He’d at least provided a decent meal afterward.

Carrying a witchling was a blessing from your gods, you knew it, and you were forever thankful for it. But that didn’t mean it was easy. You were usually stuck in the designated area for impregnated witches that were about to pop, which was fine. There was just one thing you were nervous about, one thing that might go wrong.

You had only heard the story once, how you’d been born with wings and your mother had been left ripped open and dead because of it, her birthing canal unable to adjust. The same wings that had been promptly ripped off for being improper. Death had probably been the best fate for the female that had once called you her daughter, giving birth to an improper or “wrong” child was worse, and you would be branded like cattle, and thrown to the side.

That could easily happen to you.

The chances were low, usually the only genes that carried so strongly through witch blood were the integral witch parts, what made you worthy and befitting of the coven. The chances of the child having wings were low, almost zero, but not zero.

You couldn’t help but wonder if that was what your mother had been thinking, or her mother before her. The gene of wings had been in your bloodline almost three women back. They’d probably thought the same. That there wasn’t a chance, not one bit of one. Even though there had been, and she’d paid dearly for it

Every day dragged closer to the day, and as the others in the coven noticed the behavior, the swollen ankles, the lack of strength, shortness of breath, odd cravings, fatigue, or the morning sickness, the stricter the designated midwives became you staying inside of your bed.

The nerves grew, for multiple different reasons.

“This is a blessing,”

They’d tell you.

“You’re birthing the next generation of a strong coven,”

They said.

It was easy to listen to them, but not so easy to believe in what they’d said. Other females gave you tips, being oddly kind for your species and their volatile behavior. The midwives prepared you, giving you a blunt explanation of what would happen, as they did with all the other females about to give birth.

Finally, the day came.

At first, you thought you’d just pissed yourself when your water broke, but after a second of actual contemplation, you’d nearly panicked. The contractions started soon after, horrible awful things making your body cramp and lurch in ways you hadn’t even known possible beforehand. Your groans and moans joined those of the other woman also giving birth at the time. This was her first time, too. You’d briefly talked to her before.

“When are you due?”

“A month before the solstice.”

“….”

“Three weeks before the solstice.”

“Is this your first?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Me too.”

The female seemed as kind as a witch could be, with piercing blue eyes and chocolate brown hair. Your screams intertwined together, beds separated only by thin curtains in the large birthing tent with rows upon rows of beds and supplies.

It felt like you were being ripped apart from the inside out, some sort of feral creatures trying to claw their way out. Your nails dug into the bed, ripping and shredding the thick furs in a way most mothers didn’t. It felt like it was taking too long. You faintly heard crying, that of a baby, the other female’s child.

You pushed for what felt like hours, nurses hissing to push harder, faster, to be strong like a witch should and suffer through it. Like the other new mother beside your bed had done.

However, with a final push, the baby had emerged. You looked down at it, eyes stained with tears and sweat. There were no wings on the small, red thing, not even a hint of it.

And not a hint of crying, either.

*********************************************************

“And..how long will you be gone?”

Rhysand asked him, with a raised brow and smooth tone, barely showing his curiosity. He never saw his shadowsinger this bothered. Azriel had been pacing nearly all morning and seemed distracted during training.

“Give me a day.”

The male responded, swallowing as he tried to stop his pacing, to stop seeming concerned. The stoic look remained on his face, despite his obvious worries through his body language.

“Very well…”

The High Lord replied, swirling the wine in his cup around before taking a small sip of it, gazing into the pool of dark red liquid, as if trying to find an answer to his questions in it.

“What are you up to, brother?”

He then asked, giving Azriel a curious but assessing look. Azriel only shook his head, heart beating faster than it should’ve as he left the office area, walking out of the townhouse, looking at the sparkling river that overlooked the Sidra, and took out the maps he’d acquired from one of the oldest sections in the House of Wind’s library.

He’d marked out a path in chalk, he would start where he’d first encountered that witch nearly three centuries ago, and he would go South from there, following evidence of migration patterns his shadows had managed to dig up.

It had been hours of endless flying, no sign of life on the mountain other than old, maybe a year ago, dirt disturbed, which could’ve easily been whatever wildlife could brave the heights of the mountain. He’d followed the pattern from there, his wings aching, the shadows whispering which way to go, but unable to aid him in his conquest. He was forced to stop for the night when a large storm blew in, thunder cracking down from the skies.

And so, setting up a fire in a small cave he’d found, Truth-Teller in his hand, he went to sleep for the night.

*********************************************************

It had happened too quickly, you’d barely had time to understand why, but when you realized your child wasn’t crying, and the fact that he was too small and pale, you knew what had happened. A stillborn.

They brought out the brand before you could even try to get away, the nurses hissing and grumbling at your every struggle and begging and pleading as they took the red-hot iron, sinking it into your flesh, searing so deep that not even your witch blood could heal it enough to avoid the mark it left. The big, black, ugly symbol on the left of your stomach, read “Infertile”.

They’d dragged you through the camp as you’d screamed and sobbed, public humiliation at its finest, and carried you far from the camp, far enough that you wouldn’t be able to sniff them out or trace them back, dropping you on the forest floor.

“Waste of our time,”

You heard one of them grumble as they departed, leaving you alone and in the cold forest. You were still bleeding slightly, your teenage body struggling to recuperate from being split open. It got better as time went on, when you managed to struggle to your feet, knees about to give out, and began stumbling through the forest. Your head was fuzzy, not clear, and unable to focus properly as you registered warmth from a certain direction.

Warmth.

The word clanged through you like a bell despite the lightning and rain overhead, you began sniffing out the fire, picking up the faint scent of a male nearby. It didn’t matter. You could deal with the male later, but if you didn’t get warm now, you didn’t know if you could make it through the night.

A small cave came into sight, and stumbling into it, you found the warmth you so desperately desired, a small campfire lit.

However, before you could get closer to it, you registered being slammed to the ground, cold steel against your neck, and a pair of dark, hazel eyes looking into your own.

*********************************************************

A witch.

And not just any witch, his daughter, his teenage daughter, bloodied and bruised, being pinned down beneath him. He had her wrists tied up in barely a second, he’d seen firsthand what those iron nails witches possessed could do to those who weren’t cautious.

The iron scent of her blood was obvious as well, and based on its location, she was either injured in a very bad place or menstruating, and he didn’t want to think of the only real possible answer. Another aspect of her scent was the smell of blooming life, the same one Feyre had possessed while pregnant with Nyx. A scent he couldn’t ignore.

“Who are you?”

He asked, Truth-Teller being placed back on his side as he carefully picked the female up, placing her down near the campfire to give her shivering and soaking wet form some warmth.

“I just — she wasn’t crying and they —“

You sobbed, as if not hearing his question, burying your head into your arms. It didn’t take Azriel long to piece together what had happened, and he knew that you needed medical attention.

“Hold still,”

He muttered, stamping out the fire and gathering the few things he’d brought, before gently lifting you into his arms, and in a swirl of shadows and magic, you were somewhere completely new. He watched you carefully as he hurried to Madja’s tent. Your eyes were closed as you sobbed, and if he was assuming what had happened correctly, you had reason to.

The old female, always reliable with their medical issues, was in her tent, mixing up some concoction, her eyes widened as she laid eyes on you but then went right back to normal, into medic mode, where she couldn’t panic and risk making a mistake or scaring anyone.

“Lay her down.”

Her voice rang out, and Azriel obediently obeyed, laying you on the table and watching, his anxiety evident in the way he paced back and forth, swallowing. Madja began examining you, taking the restraints on your hands and your clothes off, and when he spotted the brand, the dark mark burnt into your skin that looked all too fresh, his temper flared beyond control and he growled. Madja gave him a look.

“If you can’t control yourself, then leave.”

Her sharp tone rang out, and he huffed, but knowing that his anger wouldn’t solve anything, he walked out of the tent, sparing your barely conscious form one last glance as you groaned, clearly in discomfort.

…

“You have a what?”

Cassian’s confused and shocked tone rang out from behind Rhys and Azriel. Az sighed. The bastard must’ve snuck in when they weren’t looking. Rhys looked a bit worried, and Azriel felt more anxious than he’d been in centuries.

“A daughter, she’s a…witch.”

Cassian choked on his spit at that, watching Azriel’s frantic pacing. Rhys put his hand on the shadowsinger’s shoulder, stopping his constant movement in an attempt to soothe him.

“It’ll be fine, Azriel. We’ll work this out.”

“She could die, Rhys. I think she’d just given birth when I found her, it went wrong somehow, and those other witches marked her. They fucking marked her.”

Azriel snapped, eyes filled with such anguish, anger, and grief already that neither of them knew what to say, except to remain silent and think about the situation they were in and how to make it better.

Cassian carefully approached Azriel, with a look and demeanor he’d seen before. It was like he saw him as a wounded animal, like a soldier after the battle, scarred and mentally torn apart.

“All we can do is wait and see, Az.”

His voice, a bit softer than usual, though still gruff, spoke. His eyes held sympathy and understanding, as did Rhys’, but also caution and concern. A witch was dangerous. They knew that just as well as anyone.

*********************************************************

The first thing you registered was that you were in a lot of pain, with stitches being put in your body, and needles being poked every which way. You groaned and shifted, only for old, worn hands to put you right back into place, and a vague voice telling you to “stop moving.” before you felt another needle on the inside of your wrist, and you fell back into sleep again.

The next time you woke, you felt more numb this time, opening your eyes to be met with the sight of a room, ornate, the floor a rich red carpet with patterns on it, the ceiling wooden and going upwards to a point. There was some bland wooden furniture in the room, one mirror, and a large window that light bled through despite the light curtains on it.

A male was sitting beside you. Two of them. Three. They were talking amongst themselves. You hadn’t opened your eyes yet, content to listen.

“— but they gave her up, didn’t they?”

“Technically, yes. I think it’s well within our rights to keep her here if they moved her out of the camp.”

“So she’s ours?”

“She is no one’s.”

The dark voice that cut through the conversation finally made you open your eyes. You recognized that, and his scent…it was familiar, somehow. As soon as you opened your eyes and began to shift, they were all at attention, watching closely.

One in particular stood out to you, the dark male, shrouded by shadows, hazel eyes that resembled your own. All three had wings, leathery bat-like things, one of the males was more brusque and muscular, offering a little grin, the other looking more proper like a pretty Court boy, with his violet eye. All of them had dark hair.

You stared until the shadowy one spoke.

“What’s your name?”

He asked lowly, voice smooth and soothing. His scarred hands twitched up as if wanting to hold you or touch you, or anything he could to fix you.

“Y/N.”

You answered, swallowing as you tried to sit up, wincing as you felt the clothes that had been put on you, similar to a hospital gown, rub against the stitches in your body, and the branding on your stomach. The minute a hint of discomfort entered your expression, the scarred hands of the male were there, gently helping ease you up as you sat against the headboard of the bed, probably looking like death. The minute you were sat up, his hands went away, as if he realized what he had done.

“Sorry.”

He muttered, hands retreating into his lap from the chair. The other male, the violet-eyed one, then cleared his throat and spoke.

“I’m Rhysand,”

He said with a small polite smile, clearly faked, as you could smell how unsure he was, even a bit anxious, as it was in his scent. The brusque-looking one then spoke up with a wolf’s grin, one that wasn’t faked at all.

“Cassian,”

He said before you turned to face the last one. He swallowed, looking a bit anxious.

“Azriel. I’m..your father, or related to you somehow.”

Your brow scrunched in confusion, eyes glancing back at his wings. He might have been your father, but not likely, given how long the trait of wings had been in your bloodline. From what you knew, it had started with your grandmother, then passed to your mother, then you. You sighed, looking uncomfortable but speaking.

“How many years ago was it?” How many years has it been since you fucked a witch?

He swallowed, now looking more uncomfortable, and Cassian snorted, clearly just thinking his eldest brother had gone off and had some fun with a witch, while Rhys shot the male a glare.

“Three centuries.”

He got out quietly, the tiniest of blushes on his cheeks. Your mind was spinning, but you managed to get one coherent thought out.

“You’re my grandfather.”

You said in a dry, clearly uncomfortable tone. Cassian couldn’t stop his laughter at that, even when Rhys elbowed him hard.

“He’s got a grandkid! I don’t believe it —“

He wheezed until Rhys shot Azriel and you an apologetic look, grumbling something to Azriel as he dragged him out of the room, shutting the door behind him. The shadowsinger seemed relieved to be alone with you.

“I’m sorry about what happened, with..everything, I should’ve been there-“

“Don’t. You probably didn’t even know I existed.”

You cut him off, your tired voice still firm. You let your iron nails slide out if only to check that they were still there and undamaged. They were shiny and sharp as ever, untouched. They slid back up as if never there, and you yawned, going to lay back down in the bed. He helped you lay down, scarred hands lingering and taking your hand into his own as he looked into your eyes, multiple emotions mingling inside.

You sighed, giving a tiny tug to his hand.

“C’mere.”

You said, and he easily obliged, tossing his shoes to the floor, but leaving his shirt and pants on as he crawled into the bed beside you, cradling your body gently against his. His hands made sure to avoid the brand on you, the fresh stitches, but they brushed over the large scars on your back from where your wings had been ripped off when you were born.

“You had wings?”

He asked, a pain clear in his voice as your head lay against his chest.

“Had.”

You replied, the exhaustion clear in your tone. Anger flared up in him, for those witches for laying a finger on you, taking your wings and branding you, for them treating you so horribly.

“I’ll never let them touch you again, I promise.”

He said, an inky black marking forming on his back, and on yours, that of a star forming with swirls all around and in it, right between the scars on your back. You gave a little hum of acknowledgment, head moving up to bury itself in his neck, deeply inhaling his scent.

It smelt like home, at last.

[god-has-entered-my-body]

I know u busy but please please PLEASEEEE we need more of Matty w tutor. Maybe just a lil blurb of her being bossy & making him whimper.

since my partner loves this AU its happening xxxx

picture a scene:

It's a thursday evening, say around 6pm, and you're both upstairs in Matty's room

The door is closed, but not locked, but that all fades to the background the moment you feel Matty's rough hands run over the curve of your waist, toying with the hem of your tank top

You feel a gust of wind come from the cracked window, curtains flowing prettily as you get lost on Matty's mouth, tongue licking into yours at a dizzying pace, making you feel lightheaded. Your hands wander down to grip his waist, pulling him in to press him flush against your body, drinking in the low groan that rips itself from Matty's throat.

Quiet pants fill the room as he feels you up, groping and touching whenever he can reach with abandon, absolutely shameless in the way he gropes your ass through your skin tight jeans, kneading the flesh experimentally, grinning at your pleased moans.

Matty whispers something against your mouth, and you pull away to hear him more clearly. His pupils are dilated, face flush and chest heaving as you brush a strand of hair out of his face. "What was that baby?" you speak lowly, smiling at him.

"Wanna see your tits, please love." his voice is choked, and you can feel him hard against your thigh as one of his hands comes up to cup your tits, gasping softly as this skin makes contact with the fabric of your top. The smirk that spreads onto your face is smug, and you eye him up and down before responding.

"Want me to take my top off, is that it? See my tits?" you parrot his question back at him, and Matty nods, swallowing dryly as his cock strains against his trousers, impossibly hard. "Beg for it then, baby, you know how much i love hearing you." Matty's eyes widen like this is the first time, and the sight makes your head spin.

His mouth opens a few times, stuttering over words and sentences before he finally gathers himself, choking out a few pleas "Please love, wanna see them so badly, I know you're so pretty underneath all those cloth-" you cut him off with a finger to the lips, letting it drag down his bottom lip before it snaps back into place.

"Knees." you say, as clearly as you can without giving away how fucking turned on you are. Matty just stares at you, unmoving as you cock your head at him, raising your eyebrows. "Have I not been coherent? You heard me well enough Matty, go on, get on your knees."

His face flushes more, if that's even possible, and you can see his eyes flutter for a moment before his hands drop from your hips, and he starts to bend his knees.

The sight makes you dizzy with need, and you feel faint when you hear him hit the wooden floor, head still down. You don't know how to react, but your body certainly does. One of your hands threads itself into his untamed hair, tugging on it to make him show his face.

His eyes are glassy, and he blinks rapidly at you, his expression one of shame mixed with arousal. You sigh at the sight of him, smiling sweetly before nodding as if to say 'get on with it'.

"Please." Matty starts, his voice cracking at the end of the word, knees shifting on the hardwood floor. You can feel how wet you are even just standing there, and the sight of Matty on his knees and hard dont help you one bit. "Please let me see your tits love, need to feel them so fucking bad." he begs eyes watering as his cock twitches in his jeans, the knowledge that you are the one that got him like this going straight to your head.

You nod again, signaling him to keep going. "You'd look so pretty m'love, always make me s'fucking hard i feel like m'gonna cum from the sight of you. Need to touch them love- fuck, please baby."

Matty whines when your fingers curl around the hem of your tank top, slowly but surely inching it up to reveal the skin of your stomach, then your ribs, until finally..

You rid yourself of the top, the cold air hitting your nipples making you shiver slightly. Matty can't contain the whine that leaves his lips, ringing like music in your ears as his hands come up to grab your waist, pressing hot kisses to your bare hips and stomach.

His eyes are glued to your chest as he kisses your skin, licking and sucking light hickeys into it while you rake a hand through his hair once more, throwing your head back to enjoy the sensation. "You always sound so good when you beg for me, baby, can't resist you." Matty nods against you, his tongue rough and soft at the same time, your mind hazy and foggy from the whole situation, and you're quite sure you're still dreaming.

"Can I please come up? Please love, i need you so bad, m'so fucking hard for you." Matty whimpers, his voice high pitched and broken. You nod, watching as he steadily rises and immediately smashes his lips against yours. Taking over the kiss in a heartbeat, you let your hands roam over the expanse of his back, your nails digging into the clothed skin roughly. "Can I-" Matty starts, cut off by the feeling of your lower half pressed against his, a soft moan spilling from his lips.

"Mhm? Didn't quite catch that m'afraid." you tease, swiping your tongue over your bottom lip. "Can I t-touch them? I really want to."

How can you resist such a sweet request?

"Course you can baby, you've earned it begging so nicely for me." Your ego inflates even more at the eager nods he gives you, eyes wide and wet as his hands grope your tits softly, scared to apply too much pressure. Matty absentmindedly grinds himself against your thigh as he touches you, whiny moans filling your ears as you watch him closely, loving every second of this.

Matty takes a nipple between two fingers and rolls it experimentally, gasping at the choked groan that leaves your lips, smiling at his new find. "Like that, love?"

"I do, please keep going." you force out as he gets rougher, finally moving in to kiss you again. The combination of his mouth on yours and his hands on your chest makes you weak at the knees, desperately trying not to fall over. "Can we- can we lay down please?" Matty asks timidly once you pull away, shying away a bit as you giggle, nodding your head and grabbing his hand reassuringly.

"Take me to bed, Matty."

[amara-moonlight]

I found the fics i was looking for im unstoppable now muhaha 😈👹

anyway i might creat a list with all of them bc it was so annoying having to scroll down to find them

[consciouscarrot]

day 10 - sweet tooth [f.moonbeam]

fenrys moonbeam x fem!reader (i do not support sjm!!)

content warnings; fluff, stealing and eating pastries, just the start of a kiss, ever so slightly suggestive if you squint

notes; i’m a bit late tday oops

kinktober/flufftober masterlist

—————

it was as warm a day as you could hope for during autumn in terrasen, sun shining through the huge windows of the palace you walked through. you were on your way back to your room from a meeting with aelin and the others, when the scent of sweet pastries caught your attention. you followed the pleasant aroma, hoping to find what was causing the smell.

rounding a corner, you realised it was coming from the room in front of you, door open and revealing the treats on a table at the rooms centre. you couldn’t help but step inside, unable to resist at least taking a closer look.

the pastries were still warm, icing sugar sifted over the top, covering the toppings and preserves. there were so many, that you were sure that whoever these belonged to, could never possible figure out that one was missing.

you picked up a raspberry topped one, fruit preserve dolloped in a smooth circle atop the delicacy. you examined it briefly, wanting to admire it a little before you destroyed it with your teeth.

you bite into it, sweet and tangy flavours melting onto your tongue as you close your eyes in bliss. the raspberry was definitely the best choice, crispy pastry flaking as the pinky-red jam coated your tongue. this was by far one of the best things you’d ever eaten, and you didn’t even feel slightly guilty that it didn’t belong to you.

however, what you had failed to realise, was that fenrys had followed you after the meeting, wanting to spend time with you and let you rant on about whatever book had been currently occupying your time.

“this doesn’t look like your room, darling,”

you jump, hand flying to your chest as you attempt to flounder for an excuse, stuttering out half sentences before giving up with a frustrated huff, shoulders deflating.

“oops?”

he barked out a laugh, stalking over to you with a hand outstretched, “give me one then, so that we’ll both be in trouble,” he said with a wink.

you hand him another raspberry one, picking out the tastiest looking one with extra preserve on.

you liked fenrys a lot, and you thought that maybe he liked you too, but after everything with maeve, you wanted to let him make the first move, content with letting things blossom on their own.

you hadn’t been sure if he liked you back at first, worrying that your girlish crush on him was blinding your ability to determine his emotions. but, after seeing how he acted around other people, especially girls, you realised that he wasn’t just an affectionate person that loved long eye contact.

he groaned when he took his first bite, sending butterflies fluttering around your tummy. even the simplest things could set you off with him, enamoured by his every move.

you both continued to eat, eyes occasionally meeting in the thick silence as you focused on your crime. you stopped briefly when he took a step closer, opening his mouth as if to say something.

“oi, what the hell do you think you’re doing with my cakes!”

aedion’s voice startled you out of trance, causing you to whip around in alarm, freezing and dropping your half eaten pastry.

fenrys didn’t hesitate to take your now empty hand, pulling you to run out the room. you lunged to grab a couple more of the treats for the two of you, shrieking when aedion made to grab at you.

the two of you ran down the hallway, laughing loudly with aedion shouting profanities as he chased you.

flying round a corner, you yelped when fenrys pulled you into a hidden alcove, shadowed enough that it could cover the pair of you.

he pushed you against the wall, bodies close to keep yourselves as out of sight as possible. your chests heaved as you giggled, snorting lightly and trying to keep quiet.

fenrys shushed you, covering your mouth with his huge hand, smothering any sounds coming from you. he grinned down at you, pressing closer when aedion’s footsteps neared, before holding his breath as the man finally passed the alcove, cursing profanities under his breath.

only when the two of you began to calm down, adrenaline rushing through you, did you realise just how close your faces were. he dropped his hand from your mouth, and you could feel his breath hitting your face, eyes locked on yours.

your breath hitched as he leaned down slightly, the gap between you now so small that he would barely be able to fit his hand between you. assessing your facial expressions, he watched as your pupils dilated, hearing your heart pounding in your chest as your head tilted further back. his gaze shifted lower, watching as your tongue flicked over your soft lips, wetting them lightly.

fenrys cursed, groaning before he finally closed the gap, finally pressing his lips to yours.

—————

eek :)

[allyjoe755]

These Small Hours

fenrys x reader

A/N: Chosen by polls. If you would like another poll-chosen story, like/reblog/comment below

Word Count: 513

Warnings: slight PTSD.

o-o-o

You woke up to screams.

Big, horrible, gasping shrieks in the middle of the night.

Your eyes snapped open as adrenaline filled your chest, quickly spreading to the rest of your body.

Oh, Gods, please, no—

Lying beside you, Fenrys’ eyes were screwed shut, his cheeks wet with tears, his body dampened by sweat. His fingers raked across the sheets of the bed, his chest heaving with large breaths.

In your chest, your heart tore ever so slightly.

You placed a hand on Fenrys’ shoulder, your thumb moving back and forth.

“Fenrys,” you began softly. “Fenrys, it’s alright.” 

You scooted closer to him, wrapping an arm around his torso.

“Fenrys, it’s just a dream. Fenrys.”

Even in his sleep, he shuffled to wrap an arm around you. It helped. His breathing was still quick and ragged, but slowly and surely, it was slowing. His cries were softer now. They would fade soon enough, you knew.

It helped to not wake him up during times like these. You had learned that the hard way, when you, not having experienced this before, had in a panic shaken him awake– causing his panic to grow, small injuries to occur, for him to lose substantial sleep for nearly a week.

You had apologized profusely for weeks after. Fenrys had only said that it was his fault the nightmares happened in the first place.

But it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t, and it had taken months to convince him of that. Even now, you were sure there were times when he still doubted. That was alright. You knew that it would take time.

Just like this. It had taken you so many times, so many sleepless nights, so many tears, to realize how to best support Fenrys when nights like these came.

So, for now, you just let your head rest on Fenrys’ chest. His cries had ended. You listened to his heartbeat slow back to an even, steady, calm rhythm. Your own body calmed down from its abrupt awakening as Fenrys breathed in and out, in and out.

Perhaps, in the morning, he would tell you what he had dreamt– the terrors that had visited him in the night. There were days he would, and days he wouldn’t. You didn’t push him.

He would heal in his own time. For now, you would walk alongside him through it.

In his sleep, Fenrys ran his hand down your arm until he found your hand. He squeezed it.

“I’m here,” you whispered back. You weren’t sure, if through his sleep, he heard you. In fact, you were quite positive that he couldn’t. Even still, you spoke the words– said them out loud, even if it was just to remind yourself that you weren’t going anywhere.

The man beside you was broken, and bruised, but it didn’t make him any less whole. It didn’t make him any less loved.

You pressed a kiss to the skin above Fenrys’ heart.

It didn’t make him any less capable of love.

“I’m here,” you repeated, before allowing yourself to fall back into sleep.

[danikamariewrites]

Hello! I saw that your requests are open so I got one for you!! I was wondering if you could write a fluffy fic for either Ithan Holstrom or Fenrys Moonbeam (your pick!) X reader?

Reunited

Fenrys x Reader

A/n: I went with Fenrys bc there’s so little fics of him on here. It’s short but I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: none, a little suggestive at the end

It had been two weeks since you had last seen Fenrys and you missed him a lot. Being Queen Aelin’s assistant has kept you busy though. It didn’t stop your mind from wandering to thoughts of him 100 times a day. His long blonde hair, his charming smile, all of him. Today though, he was finally coming home from his trip to Rifthold.

Aelin could tell you were anxious to see your boyfriend, she knew it was Rowan who was away for two weeks she would feel the same way. So like every other day she kept you extremely busy. By 5 o’clock in the evening you found yourself taking a break in the castle library. You were tapping your foot on the marble floor thinking that Fenrys should be back by now.

You were so lost in your thoughts and book you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching you. When you didn’t realize there was someone standing behind you the male cleared his throat. You jump, turning to face him, “Fenrys!”

The white wolf flashed you that charming smile, “Hi baby, I’m sorry I’m late.” It doesn’t even matter to you that he was late. He was home and that’s all that mattered to you. You jumped into his arms wrapping yourself around him. Fenrys spun you around, leaned his head down to rest on yours.

“I missed you so much.” You whispered into his neck, clinging to him as if he would disappear if you let go. “I missed you too, baby. I thought about you everyday I was gone.” You lifted your face to meet his striking onyx eyes. Fenrys leans down and slots his mouth over yours in a passionate kiss.

“Have you eaten yet you must be starving?” Fenrys rolls his eyes. Of course you’d ask that, you always worried about him. “No, I thought finding you was more important.” You scoff at him, “Well I for one am starving. Can we go have dinner?”

Fenrys was contemplating your request, “I don’t know,” he drawled, “can we eat in our rooms? I wanna dive right into dessert after.” You laughed hitting his chest. “You’re unbelievable sometimes ya know that.” Fenrys starts making his way to the doors of the library with you still in his arms. “I know I am. You tell me all the time baby.”

[mikey180]

Tower Of God Master List

search for the tag " tower of god brainworms" for brainrots and small reblogs

The 25th Bamm

That Time Of The Month

How He Cuddles

They Forget Your Date tw angst no comfort

They Realize They Forgot Your Date tw angst no comfort

Bam x Reader "Disney"

Bam x Reader "Are You Upset With Me?" tw angst with comfort

khun aguero agnes

That Time Of The Month

dad khun x mom reader "Just In Time"

dad Khun x mom reader "Can They Go To Bed Now?"

Clingy Khun x Reader *reblog

They Forget Your Date tw angst no comfort

They Realize They Forgot Your Date tw angst no comfort

Khun x Collector Reader

Khun x Bayonetta reader

How He Cuddles

Rak

That Time Of The Month

Evankhell

That Time Of The Month

How She Cuddles

A Day Out With Evankhell

They Forget Your Date tw angst no comfort

They Realize They Forgot Your Date tw angst no comfort

Fluff Headcanons

Hansung Yu

That Time Of The Month

How He Cuddles

They Forget Your Date tw angst no comfort

They Realize They Forgot Your Date tw angst no comfort

Hansung Yu x Reader "More Coffee?"

Lero ro

That Time Of The Month

How He Cuddles

They Forget Your Date tw angst no comfort

They Realize They Forgot Your Date tw angst no comfort

You're Perfect

Quant Blitz

That Time Of The Month

How He Cuddles

They Forget Your Date tw angst no comfort

They Realize They Forgot Your Date tw angst no comfort

Hoe/Ho

That Time Of The Month

Anak

That Time Of The Month

How She Cuddles

They Forget Your Date tw angst no comfort

They Realize They Forgot Your Date tw angst no comfort

Endorsi

That Time Of The Month

How She Cuddles

They Forget Your Date tw angst no comfort

They Realize They Forgot Your Date tw angst no comfort

Yuri

That Time Of The Month

Hockney

That Time Of The Month

Hatz

That Time Of The Month

How He Cuddles

Hatz x Bayonetta reader

Hatz x Collector Reader

They Forget Your Date tw angst no comfort

They Realize They Forgot Your Date tw angst no comfort

Arie Hon

Arie Hon x Reader "My Light"

White

That Time Of The Month

White x Reader "Bad Day?"

Fluff Headcanons

Yasratcha

That Time Of The Month

Fluff Headcanons

Yama

That Time Of The Month

Doom

That Time Of The Month

Eduan

That Time Of The Month

Jealous Eduan x Reader

Maschenny

That Time Of The Month

Hwaryun

That Time Of The Month

Karaka

That Time Of The Month

Elaine

That Time Of The Month

Angel

That Time Of The Month

Rachel

That Time Of The Month

[fruvittea]

a study in crushes

💌﹒→﹒jungwon x reader (college au)﹒ ﹒ ♪

— genre: fluff, slice of life

— word count: 1.1k

— warnings? heart palpitations from all this fluff

The classroom buzzes with chatter and the occasional shuffle of notebooks as students settle in for the lecture. You’re in your usual seat by the window, trying not to glance over at the boy who’s been occupying far too much space in your head lately—Jungwon.

Jungwon, with his soft smile and warm laughter, sits two rows ahead. You’ve never spoken much, just exchanged brief pleasantries when paired for small group work. Yet somehow, you find yourself hyper-aware of him in every class.

Your professor walks in and begins the lecture, but it’s hard to focus. Jungwon’s shoulders shake slightly as he laughs at something his friend says. You quickly look away, feeling heat creep up your neck.

It’s only when the professor announces the semester’s group project that your day takes an unexpected turn.

"Partners will be randomly assigned," he declares, and you hear the collective groan ripple through the room.

Names start flashing on the projector screen in pairs. You wait anxiously, heart pounding as if your name alone decides your fate. And then, there it is: Your Name & Yang Jungwon.

Your head snaps toward him on instinct. He’s already looking back, his lips quirking into a small smile that makes your stomach flip. He gestures to the empty seat next to him. You gather your things, trying not to trip over your own feet, and take the spot.

“Looks like we’re stuck with each other,” Jungwon teases lightly as you sit down.

“Looks like it,” you reply, smiling shyly.

The project requires several weeks of collaboration, and soon enough, you and Jungwon fall into a rhythm. After class, you meet at the library or a quiet café near campus to hash out ideas. Jungwon’s surprisingly organized, keeping your work on track while still making space for moments of lighthearted fun.

“So,” he says one evening as you sit across from each other, books and laptops sprawled on the table between you. “What’s your guilty pleasure study snack?”

You laugh, surprised by the question. “Probably gummy bears. Yours?”

“Chocolate milk,” he admits with a sheepish grin.

“Chocolate milk isn’t a snack,” you tease.

“Says who?” He raises a brow, mock-indignant.

You talk about everything and nothing, your conversations flowing easily. Over time, you start to notice little things: the way Jungwon bites his lip when he’s deep in thought, how his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way he always waits for you to finish packing up before leaving together.

One night at the library, Jungwon leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. The movement lifts his sweatshirt slightly, revealing a sliver of skin, and you quickly look away, heat rushing to your face. He catches your expression and smirks.

“Are you blushing?” he asks, leaning forward.

“No,” you say too quickly, busying yourself with your notes.

“Sure,” he says, drawing out the word in a way that makes your stomach flutter.

It’s after your fourth study session that things shift. You’re walking back to your dorm, the crisp evening air filled with the hum of crickets.

“Hey,” Jungwon says, his voice softer than usual.

You turn to him, his expression uncharacteristically nervous.

“I was wondering…” He pauses, scratching the back of his neck. “Would you maybe want to hang out sometime? Outside of studying, I mean.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Like… as friends?”

“Not exactly,” he says, meeting your eyes. There’s a vulnerability there that makes your heart race. “I like you. I’d like to take you out—if you’re okay with that.”

It takes you a moment to process his words, but when you do, you can’t suppress the smile that spreads across your face.

“I’d like that too,” you say.

The following weekend, you find yourself exploring the town with Jungwon. The two of you start at a small indie bookstore he’s been raving about, where you end up flipping through shelves together, laughing at cheesy romance novel covers.

“Would you ever read one of these?” you ask, holding up a particularly dramatic one featuring a shirtless man and a swooning woman.

“Only if you dared me to,” Jungwon says, smirking.

After the bookstore, you wander into a nearby park, where a street musician is playing a soulful tune on the violin. You pause to listen, the music weaving a quiet intimacy between you.

“Hungry?” Jungwon asks as the sun begins to dip below the horizon.

“Starving,” you admit.

He leads you to a small food truck park, the air thick with the scent of sizzling meat and spices. You settle on a shared plate of tacos and sit side by side on a bench, your knees brushing occasionally.

“These are amazing,” you say between bites.

“Told you,” Jungwon replies, looking far too smug for someone holding a taco.

The night stretches on, and you find yourselves walking aimlessly, talking about everything from childhood dreams to embarrassing moments. Jungwon tells you about the time he tripped on stage during a school play, and you laugh so hard you nearly stumble.

“You’re not supposed to laugh at my pain,” he says, feigning offense.

“Sorry,” you say, still giggling. “But the mental image is too good.”

At some point, you end up at a quiet overlook, the town’s twinkling lights spread out below like a sea of stars.

“Thanks for today,” you say, your voice soft. “I had a really good time.”

“Me too,” Jungwon says, his gaze fixed on you.

There’s a pause, the kind that’s charged with unspoken possibilities. Jungwon shifts closer, his hand brushing against yours.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart leaps into your throat, but you nod.

The world seems to fall away as Jungwon leans in, his lips soft and warm against yours. It’s tentative at first, like he’s afraid to rush, but when you kiss him back, he deepens it ever so slightly, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw.

When you finally pull away, both of you are smiling, your faces inches apart.

“That was…” Jungwon starts, then chuckles. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” you agree, your cheeks aching from how wide you’re grinning.

The walk back to campus is filled with a comfortable silence, your hands intertwined. It feels like the start of something new, something good.

And as Jungwon walks you to your dorm, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before saying goodnight, you realize that maybe, just maybe, your classroom crush was worth every second of distraction.

✴︎🪷𓈒͏ུུ̑̑. ཉ — by @fruvittea

[blackhairedjjun]

the forest of you

pairing: choi soobin x gn reader | genre / tropes: fluff, cottagecore au, fantasy au, prince!soobin x witch!reader, mutual pining, just very soft vibes | word count: 1.9k | warnings: none, just a little (friendly) teasing

summary: prince soobin lives undercover as a commoner as part of a royal tradition, and you are the local potion-maker tasked with caring for him and magically maintaining his disguise. you take him to the forest one day to forage for ingredients, and you start to realize just how much you need him with you.

author's notes: i wrote this after binge-listening to soobin's forest cover, it was just soooo comforting and beautiful 🥰🥰 this fic isn't that overtly romantic since i mostly focused on recreating the comforting vibes and message of the original cover, but the pining is still there (i hope). the premise of this story is based on an idea i had some time ago but never turned into a fic, i do have ideas for fics in the same setting though!

(support by reblogging banner by @/cafekitsune)

“y’know, soobin, you’ve become less scared of the forest since you got here,” you say, swinging your herb basket back and forth as you walk.

“oh really?” the prince stares at you, his mouth agape at first before morphing into his familiar dimpled smile. cute. “i suppose that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“it’s a very good thing. having company with me is nice.”

soobin trails behind you as you trudge down the worn dirt paths of the forest, trees on all sides towering over you. you hum as you walk, eyes on the lookout for anything of use in your potions: flowers, berries, mushrooms, seeds, leaves, even fallen bird feathers. from time to time you turn back to glance at your ward, who follows at a comfortable pace while gazing at the canopy above him.

he stops in his tracks and points at a patch of mushrooms growing on the bark of a tree. the mushrooms are at his eye level, above your head. “wait, these are the ones you use for my disguise potion, right?”

“that’s right! i missed that 一 thank goodness i’ve got a tall person helping me out.”

soobin pries the mushrooms from the bark hands it to you, a proud grin on his face. you can’t help but smile yourself in admiration, and your smile only grows when his hands brush yours while he places them in your basket. “thank you,” you whisper.

now you walk side-by-side through the forest, and you much prefer it this way. even with his princely nature hidden, you find something reassuring about his presence: soobin towers over you, but he moves slowly, deliberately matching his stride to yours, even the swinging of his arms in sync. he stays close by you, as if protecting you from anything that might leap out of the forest, and your arms nearly brush his a few times.

every now and then you stop to take something from the forest: a cluster of deep red berries, a yellow-green fern growing in swirling patterns, a flower so white it practically shines on the forest floor. soobin gazes at you intently as you do your job, and you’re so engrossed in your work that you miss the soft smile that crosses his face while he observes.

“did you really do all this by yourself before i came here?” he asks as you step through a narrow space between two gnarled trees. in the distance some birds begin to caw, but you don’t even flinch at the sound.

“pretty much. i’m used to it, i guess.”

“and you weren’t lonely or scared? that’s really cool, y/n.”

“i wasn’t always like this,” you say as you pry another mushroom from some tree bark for soobin’s disguise potion. “the first time i went on my own, i wanted to prove to my parents that i could forage by myself. y’know, be a real witch and everything. but i was shaking the whole time... and i missed my parents so much. they used to point out the different birds to me while they foraged, or they’d just look at me all excited if they found a rare ingredient. and that’s what i missed the most, just having someone to be with.”

soobin presses his lips together as he listens to you. you’ve been foraging on your own for years, and though you tell yourself that you’re used to it, your heart aches at the memory. you turn to face him and your eyes meet. 

“i get what you mean,” he says. “when i first came here for my incognito period, i remember missing everyone a lot. my parents and all the palace staff... kai, beomgyu... your cottage was so quiet in comparison. not that it’s a bad place, it’s just...”

“not home?”

soobin nods, his gaze falling to the dried leaves on the forest floor. the two of you continue walking through the forest, stopping only a few minutes later so that you can collect a few wild berries from a bush.

“it feels more like home now, though,” soobin says as he crouches down to help you. “i like the smell of the herbs from your garden and how toasty the cauldron room is. and helping you is, ah, it’s fun... you care about your potions so much and i like watching you work.”

you laugh softly to yourself, turning away as you feel a warmth spread through your cheeks. “it’s... well, i’m used to it. and having you around has helped a lot.”

“sometimes i feel more like a bother than a help. you work so fast!”

“don’t say that, you’re plenty helpful. look at you right now, i would have missed some of the berries hidden here if it weren’t for you.”

with the berries collected and placed in your basket, you stand up at the same time. you don’t realize at first how close soobin is standing to you, but your eyes meet his and you can’t bring it in yourself to look away. the prince gazes at you as if trying to speak without words, as if telling you from his presence alone that everything will be alright.

he reminds you of the forest too, you think: tall and quiet and seemingly stern, but filled with a cool comfort all his own. 

your mutual reverie is broken by the cawing of a nearby flock of birds. soobin jumps and nearly falls; you grab onto his hand and you both wobble before he finds his balance.

“sorry...”

“it’s一it’s fine.” your hand is still holding onto his, and your cheeks feel hot. “we should keep moving.”

the two of you continue through the forest, taking care not to travel too deep but stay at the periphery. soobin stays close to you, and you thread your arm through his 一 this will slow your pace, but you don’t mind.

“by the way, i changed the measurements of the disguise potion a bit,” you say as soobin crouches down to pick some flowerbuds. “i’m not sure if you felt any difference.”

“oh really? it felt the same to me.” he shrugs and places the flowerbuds in your basket. “i always feel... disoriented when i use it.”

“i know, that’s why i was trying to change it...”

“don’t worry about it too much.” soobin glances up at a tree branch right above him, and a cool breeze blows down on both of you. “it’s just... when i’m a prince, i feel shy from all the people watching me, but when i’m disguised, it feels odd not being recognized, as if no one cares about me. does that make sense?”

you’re quiet for a few moments. you glance up at the canopy, then back at soobin; prince or not, there’s something about him that feels right at home here. 

“i see what you mean... being around others is exhausting, but being by yourself is lonely. right?”

“yeah, exactly.”

“what about being with me?” you give him a teasing grin. “do you ever get sick of me?”

he grins right back at you, even rolling his eyes for dramatic effect. “yeah, i get totally sick of you. when i become prince again i’m banishing you so that i never see you again.”

“you could never do that, i bet. who’s going to make the potions of soothing to help you fall asleep, huh?”

“i’ve been stuck with you long enough that i could make it myself!”

you elbow him gently and you both laugh. the sound rings through the forest, and it makes the place seem smaller and warmer than it is.

you’ve often wondered what will happen when soobin’s incognito period ends and he goes back to his princely role. when the royal family first approached you to help with their son’s journey 一 apparently an old tradition to help future monarchs stay in touch with the common folk 一 you didn’t think much of it. you’d get an apprentice, make a few extra potions of disguise for him, then collect a hefty royal commission after eighteen months. at first, it had been nothing more than a chance to get an extra pair of hands and supplement your income as a potion-making witch.

but as you walk through the forest, arm in arm with soobin, you realize that you like the new routine you’ve established. the young prince helps you sell potions and make bread for meals, and more than once you’ve caught him giving harsh glares at rude customers who want to use your potions for nefarious purposes. and though his accompaniment to your weekly forages were originally nothing more than an excuse to get some help, you now find it impossible to imagine going on them without him.

soobin and the forest and you: in your mind they all fit together.

you’re so lost in your thoughts that he has to move in front of you to catch your attention. “y/n?”

“oh 一 sorry!”

“you know i was just kidding, right?”

“huh...?”

“about banishing you, i mean,” he says. “i like being around you too much.”

“ah 一 yeah! d-don’t worry, i know,” you say, and now even your ears are warm together with your cheeks. “and um, thank you.”

you blink a few times and glance around. the trees have become more gnarled and more densely packed together. you realize that the two of you are starting to approach the heart of the forest; go any deeper and things will get dangerous, not just from wild animals but also from wild magic. “uh, we should... go back...”

soobin nods and waits for you to lead the way before falling in beside you. again he offers his arm, and you thread yours around it. with his free hand he offers to carry your basket for you; it has gotten heavier from the foraging you’ve been doing. you shake your head and give him a polite smile, letting him know that you can carry it just fine, but the gesture opens up a lightness in your heart.

the walk back to the main road is quiet, but not awkwardly so. such moments of silence are not uncommon with soobin, but they have a comfort all their own; the prince smiles to himself as he walks, taking the time to admire the lush green canopy above or the carpet of flowers and ferns growing in between the tree roots. you find yourself sneaking glances at him and following his gaze to whatever plant has caught his attention 一 you’re so used to forest forages that you’ve forgotten how to stop and admire the scenery.

can you really imagine the forest without him? you feel his arm wound around yours, anchoring you, and it reminds you of the tree roots beneath your feet.

by the time you reach the edge of the forest, the sun has started to set and the sky has turned orange. rays of yellow light peek through the remains of the canopy. you put your free hand up to your face to block out the most blinding rays, and soobin tightens his grip around your arm. 

“let’s go home?” he says. 

you turn to him and smile. he looks radiant in this light.

“let’s go home.”

[shadowdaddies]

Hello there, could i request Rowaelin x reader who is a germophobe and always fussing about keeping things clean and organized. And when Rowen comes back from mission's covered in dirt and blood reader is always there to make sure he gets cleaned properly ( despite the fact that hes a grown male).

Hope you have a good day/night

thank you, I hope you have a great day as well!💜

Come Clean

poly!Rowaelin x Reader

Warnings: very suggestive towards the end

The front door creaked open, your shriek piercing the air at the sight of the large fae male standing in the threshold. He paused, foot hanging above the floor as green eyes darted to where you were seated.

“Rowan Whitethorn, don’t you dare enter this house with those muddy boots on!” You scolded, quickly striding across the room to kneel in front of where he stood. He released an exasperated sigh, leaning against the frame as he allowed you to untie his boots and toss them outside. 

A gasp sounded from behind you, Aelin clicking her tongue as she shook her head at Rowan. A smirk played on her lips as she teased, “Rowan, how could you possibly think to enter this house with shoes on?”

You whipped your head around to see her clutching her chest in mock horror, the smugness fading slightly as you shot her a glare. 

“Excuse me for trying to keep the blood and dirt out of this home,” you muttered, shaking your head as you walked towards the sink. Grabbing a washcloth, you looked back towards Rowan, eyes studying his dirtied form. 

“Do you have any injuries?” you asked, voice laced with concern as you wetted the washcloth in the basin. Rowan’s eyes softened, shining like glittering emeralds as he smiled at you in admiration. 

“No, I’m alright. None if this blood is mine,” he reassured you. Your nose scrunched slightly at the thought of strangers’ blood being tracked across your clean floors, but you managed to push that concern aside to focus on Rowan. 

You lightly cupped his cheek, bringing the washcloth to gently clean the dirt from his face. His arms wrapped around you, warm hands secure on your hips as he pulled you closer.

“Rowan! Ugh, now I need a bath, too,” you grumbled, frowning at the dirt he’d spread on your dress.

Aelin laughed from where she stood. “I’ll go draw a bath for you, Row,” she called, turning as she set off for the bathroom.

Rowan smirked down at you, hunger in his gaze as he lowered his head, lips brushing your own. “Good. We can take that bath together,” he murmured, lips moving to nip at your ear.

Gasping at his touch, you lightly pushed Rowan away, shaking your head at his antics. “I am NOT getting in that tub with you all filthy like this. We’re getting these clothes off of you, and you can take a long bath. Alone.”

Rowan hummed, interlocking his fingers through yours as he led you towards the bathroom with him. “Well, I have no problem with you taking my clothes off,” he retorted with a wink.

Aelin rolled her eyes at him from where she stood by the tub. “You can take off your own clothes, Buzzard.” Her gaze flicked to where you stood in the doorframe, tongue flicking out over her lips as she looked at your soiled dress. 

“I’ll be sure to help our girl change into some clean clothes of her own. After I take those off of her, of course.” Aelin flashed Rowan a devilish grin, her arm wrapping possessively around your waist as she guided you from the bathroom. 

Grabbing the door handle, you gave Rowan a wink as Aelin began untying the laces of your dress. “You’d better hurry up and get clean, Row, if you don’t want to be left out,” you purred, letting your dress drop to the floor as you shut the door in his face.

[utterlyotterlyx]

A Ballad of Storm and Shadow

Azriel x F!Reader

Part Five

Summary - Rhys had been content in taking the darkest secret of his family to the grave, but when the threat of Hybern increases, he has no choice but to send a message to another world and pray to the Mother that his call is answered.

Warnings - some fluff, flirtation, mentions of blood and gore

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

This is a crossover series, some aspects will differ from that in the books. Physical attributes are described in this fic, it is essential to the storyline of the character

Azriel hadn't been able to keep his eyes off of y/n despite Elain's incessant chirping about the gardens and her desire to venture into the city for more seeds.

The training grounds weren't usually so busy, but that morning it turned out that Nesta and Mor had begged y/n to spar with them, and she couldn't exactly say no, not when they had established bonds at dinner the evening before.

So there Azriel sat at the edge of the ring, watching y/n move like a phantom breeze and swing her sword like it was an extension of her soul whilst Elain chattered on beside him. He hadn't minded the sound of her voice, it was a miracle she was even speaking at all considering everything that had happened to her, and he was happy to play a part of her settling but it was clear that Elain believed there was something else between them.

He couldn't help but allow his eyes to drag over y/n's figure, from the curve of her hips in the leathers she donned to the tilt of her gleaming smile. Azriel was bewitched. Just as he caught her loosely braided hair swaying in the breeze and wondering how it would feel between his fingers, a voice pulled him from the image, "Azriel? Are you listening?"

Glancing to his left, Azriel's hazel orbs connected with those of Elain, doe-like and soft, and he felt his trance disperse into the air, allowing the clash of swords to fill his ears, "Sorry, Elain. What did you say?"

The pink of her skirt dusted against the dirt of the training grounds, her hair bristling in the unobstructed breeze, "I asked if you'd like to come into the city with me this afternoon? For the seeds?" Azriel moved his gaze back to y/n and didn't feel bad about it, he was more than happy to watch her train, maybe he would get to go head to head with her at some point as well. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

Azriel hummed softly in agreement, "Yes, she really is."

"I didn't know that Rhys had a sister. Feyre never mentioned anything."

Frowning slightly, Azriel told her, "Feyre didn't know. No one did. Rhys was prepared to die with the secret, she's only here because he sent her a message, a call for aid. Once the war is over she'll likely return to her world."

Elain examined Azriel's face, the transfixed eyes and softened lips, the lax shoulders and how his shadows were perched upon his shoulders staring at y/n like she was the last blinkering star in existence. She knew better than to get between a look like that, a stare more powerful than one ever given to her. Elain sighed, gathering her journals in her arms, "Maybe another time?"

Without sparing her his eyes, Azriel nodded, rising to his feet and making his way over to the ring where both Nesta and Mor lay on their backs panting whilst y/n stepped over their forms with a smirk, wings stretching and knowing that the two females were done for the day. Y/N approached the weapons rack, settling her sword back on its perch as she felt that familiar cool curl around her arms, smiling downward at the shadows which caressed her skin. "Did you enjoy the show?"

Turning on the balls of her feet, she came face-to-face with Azriel who peered down upon her with wonder, his lips curled upward into a knowing smirk, "It was impressive," he told her with his arms folded over his chest, sparing a glance backward over his shoulder at a groaning Mor who was struggling to stand on her feet without swaying. "I'm just wondering when it will be my turn."

"Your turn?" Y/N took a singular step toward him, her scent becoming entangled with the air he inhaled, infecting his bones straight down to their cores.

"Yes."

The fire in her eyes danced with intrigue, and all Azriel could think of was having her trapped beneath him, his legs pinning her body and hands wrapped around the back of her neck. He could almost picture the sparks of blue in her eyes up close, how they would ebb and flow with the ire of submitting to him.

"We can go now," her voice teased as her chest brushed against his, "If you're ready for me that is."

A soft breeze swept over her face, causing the shorter tendrils of hair to stick to her cheeks, and Azriel couldn't stop his marred fingers from reaching out and removing them from her skin, lightly brushing his digits along the contour of her cheekbone and allowing his gaze to roam over her face.

"I'll always be ready for you," his voice held a certain softness to it, like he was speaking to her in the dead of night, hushed so that he wouldn't cause the storm to stir.

His touch lingered on her cheek, and up close, Azriel was mesmerised by the hue of y/n's eyes. They weren't just violet, they were a myriad of purple and storm grey, with the smallest speckles of blue which caused them to appear alight, and her limbal ring was a shade of deep onyx which just gave Azriel one more reason to be completely consumed by her.

Y/N went to speak, to open her perfectly sculpted lips and say something, but the words were stolen from her throat. In his shadow, she was simply y/n, not a queen or the most formidable warrior Erilea had ever birthed, not the daughter of the Valg or the bringer of the storms; under his eyes, she was just y/n. And she quite liked how that made her feel.

Though, she had wished that she was paying more attention to her surroundings, namely to the set of eyes that were likened to her own now glancing between her and the male who held her cheek in his hand. "Your match will have to wait," Rhys' voice slithered between them, pulling their gazes apart but not their bodies. He held a report in his fingers, his eyes were brimming with concern, "There's an update on Hybern's movements," his eyes moved to his sister, the only one who was truly undetectable and able to do what he so desperately needed, "I need you."

The rage that was written upon Azriel's face was so intense that it made even Rhys feel small.

After his interruption, Rhys had moved the entirety of the Inner Circle indoors, away from any prying eyes and ears, into the main seating area within the House of Wind. It was a comfortable place and the view beyond the arched windows was truly exquisite, even in the daylight when y/n could carve out every section within the mountains where various settlements lay, even the specific place where the pool of starlight resided.

"No." Azriel had snarled at Rhys' request from beside y/n. The Shadowsinger appeared relaxed, but there was molten ash swarming within him, within his eyes and his limbs. "If she were to get hurt then it'll be you that will have to face Aelin and Rowan and tell them why their closest friend, ally, and queen, has been harmed."

It seemed as though only Azriel understood the gravity of what the wrath of Aelin and Rowan would mean for them all, and he knew that with Aelin and Rowan came Lorcan and Aedion, y/n's bloodsworn, and Manon, the latter of which when she was mentioned made Azriel shiver.

Huffing with amusement, y/n rose from her place beside Azriel, finding his protectiveness to be rather alluring, "I can handle Aelin and Rowan," she paced toward the balcony, fixing a pair of leather fingerless gloves to her wrists and ensuring her twin blades were secured against her thighs. Y/N turned to face Azriel who had also risen, wings bristling at his back like they were preparing themselves to shoot off into the sky after her. "One day, you might stop underestimating me."

"I'll use the storms as cover, you'll get the information you need," she told Rhys stoically, opening the large looming balcony doors and stepping into the heightened winds.

Hybern was moving, the threat increasing, but the reports were too vague for Rhys, too conflicting, and he needed someone to report first hand on their movements, size, weaponry, the beasts in their arsenal. Everything. The rest of them were too recognisable, but y/n had the power to disappear whenever she wished, and that was the power that they needed.

"You don't know the continent." Stopping in her place, she turned, finding Azriel at the mouth of the doorway with Rhys stood not that far behind him. "You'll need help navigating the skies and knowing where exactly you are. Let me come with you."

Rhys nor Cassian had ever seen Azriel appear so desperate to be close to someone. From his seat beside Feyre, Cassian tilted his head toward his brother whose hand was outstretched to y/n, and if he could notice the longing glances between them then it must have been extremely obvious to everyone else. He had convinced himself that Mor was lying about was she saw in the training ring that morning, but apparently she was telling the truth.

Cassian had never seen Azriel look so obsessively helpless.

It took her a moment, but y/n nodded, once, and stiffly, before she spoke, "Stay close. You won't survive a lightening strike if it catches you."

The words should have scared him, or at least made him feel slightly wary. But Azriel didn't feel anything other than delight and privilege at the thought of being able to navigate the skies with her, and to be shielded under her power.

Unfurling her wings, Azriel watched in awe as the tips draped over the moon. He could count each feather individually from where he stood, he could etch the curves and membrane to his memory. And with a single beat of those onyx wings that resembled the night sky, y/n soared upward, craning her body in the direction of the wind before allowing it to support her flight.

Azriel wasted no time in joining her.

Three days.

Seventy-two hours.

Four thousand, three hundred and twenty minutes.

That's how long they'd been away for. Spending hours of the night in the wrath of the storms, scouring the lands below their flight for a sign of the Hybern forces. Though it was to no avail.

They'd return to the small cabin they had found at dawn each morning, y/n groaning for a bath and Azriel seeking a moments rest that never found him easily. Azriel had become grumpy, tired of the bristled winds and icy rain that poured down upon him every night thanks to y/n’s storms thundering on to protect them from anything that may be watching from below.

Apparently she was used to such conditions.

It also didn’t help that his rest was confined to the small couch by the entry, his wings ached and there was only a small fire to keep him warm. In those dim moments of discomfort, Azriel wished that he had taken up y/n’s offer to sleep in the bed, to stretch his wings and rest just enough to keep his senses sharp, but he could never take something from her, not when her power was exhausting her to keep them both safe and hidden in the skies.

The nights went by with little conversation, though whatever words were spoken were always light. Despite the importance of their mission, y/n was doing her best to separate the seriousness from it; Azriel had chosen, no, begged to go with her, and she wasn’t about to make the time they spent together full of misery. Though, what y/n did know was that it would be easier for her to find the armies of Hybern on her own. Thanks to Azriel’s need to answer every single one of her questions, y/n was sure that she could navigate the skies on her without issue.

“Az,” y/n called from the doorway of the bathroom where pools of steam swirled along the floor. Azriel craned his head toward her, hazel eyes moving up her bare legs to the towel that was wrapped around her body, allowing his imagination to run wild, “Take the bed,” she told him, nodding toward the plush pillows and sheets that were calling out to him as she adjusted the towel around her chest, the twin mountain tattoos to Rhys’ rippling at her knees.

“You need it more than me,” he told her pointedly, raising an eyebrow at the tapping of her impatient foot again the wooden floor. Even with damp hair and glistening skin, y/n was by far the most mesmerising female he had ever seen, her jaw was so sharp that he was sure it would cut him if he ran a finger along it, her eyes were so bold and hypnotic that they threatened to possess his soul, and he would let them. “Your power has been keeping us safe for three nights now, it needs to recharge.”

Scoffing, y/n folded her arms over her chest, “I don’t think you know how my power works,” she sauntered back into the bathroom, pushing her hair over her shoulder before pushing the door to, but leaving it open by just a crack to allow the bathroom to air out from her obscenely hot bath.

He wished that he could have controlled the urge, he wished that he could just stay put, but the devil chirping in his ear was convincing enough to push him to his feet and slowly move toward the door. Through the crack, he watched as she dropped the towel to her waist and raked her fingers through the lengths of her hair. Azriel watched her skin shimmer in the light of dawn, and saw the curve of her breasts as she moved about, though, that wasn’t what he could focus on. It was the scar trailing from her ear to her tailbone which held his eye, it was angry and scaled, and grey in places, like it was still healing, he kept an eye on it even when her wings rustled at her back, drying themselves from the slick ointments she used which made her smell like his own personal heaven.

Azriel continued to watch as she ran her fingers over her skin, stopping to examine every bump and scar with a frown before tugging a short-sleeved but skintight shirt over her head and reaching for a brush to run it through the wind-induced knots in her drying hair. All Azriel wanted to do was care for her, to run that brush through her hair and place feathering kisses down the length of the healing scar that curled down over her shoulder and spine, but he wouldn’t, instead, Azriel turned away just as y/n reached the unwind the towel from her waist and resumed his position on the chair just before she exited the bathroom altogether.

“Take the bed, Az.” Y/N told him sternly, twirling her hair around her finger and tying it in a low sitting bun, “I’m going to go for a walk anyway, we need more firewood.”

Looking to the once plenitude chunks of wood that were dwindling to almost nothing, Azriel sent her a sidelong glare as she tugged on her shoes, “I’ll go.”

“No you won’t,” she replied, voice cold and demanding, her violet eyes were screaming for a moment of solitude, and despite his objections and the refusals in his ears from his shadows, he stiffly nodded and turned back to the ashen fireplace with a small frown. “I’ll be back soon.”

She left the small cabin quickly, throwing her cape over her shoulders and tugging it closer to her body as she traipsed through the sullen woodland, branches bending under her feet and the wind whipping against her reddened cheeks. All she had to do was get far enough away from Azriel’s earshot to be able to plunge herself into the skies without him realising what she was doing. Part of her felt bad for leaving him behind, but it was clear that he needed to rest, and that the shrill cold and damp of her storms were beginning to weigh him down.

It was a kindness really. In her eyes anyway.

Once she could no longer see the cabin, y/n walked for another fifteen minutes before unfurling her feathered wings and with one beat sent herself soaring upward through the trees. For a moment, she floated there, deciding which direction to go, and she summoned the spirit of the wind to aid her, allowing it to coil in her mind and will her northward toward a set of three mountains that she and Azriel had scoured on the first night.

On approach, they felt different, and y/n flew higher into the clouds to use them as cover as she soared over the clearings and valleys, not wanting to dip any lower in fear that she’d be seen, but she had no choice.

Y/N dipped over the peak of the tallest mountain, the same one she looked at before she went to sleep in the cabin because she thought that it touched the moon, and immediately saw what they had been looking for. The armies swam for miles down the valley, tall wooden cannons stood at the mouth of the woodland, surrounded by tents and fires; the stench of death filtered through into her lungs, and she could feel the power of that damned cauldron not too far away, and she deduced that it had wisely been glamoured. Amongst the tents and soldiers milling about the space, y/n spied winged beasts perched far away from the foot soldiers, probably because they were too terrified to be anywhere near them, and y/n didn’t blame them, their pointed ears and elongated teeth, and their leathery wings were enough to make even her feel queasy. But y/n had fought and survived much worse beasts than the ones stationed below.

Counting the cannons and making mental notes of the sizes and breeds of beasts in the arsenal of the King of Hybern, y/n went to swiftly turn back, to allow the wind to carry her back to the cabin to gather Azriel and then move onward to Rhys.

But the sharp piercing of arrows through her wings stopped her from doing such things, and y/n fell downward through the skies, whatever poison they had dipped the arrowheads in seeping into and weakening her body and powers. The wind flew by her as if trying to slow her fall, and with the last speckle of her power before it dimmed completely, y/n sent out a wave so strong that the air vibrated and hummed just as she hit the ground with a sickening thud.

Groaning, she rolled onto her front, wincing as she counted the four arrows that were embedded into the feathers and membrane of her wings, which made flying to safety impossible. There was no way that Prythian or Hybern would have the knowledge of the poison to slow her unless they knew that she was in their world, somehow, the King of Hybern was wholly aware of her presence, and he had taken steps to ensure that she would at least be slowed enough to be fatally harmed.

Y/N pushed herself shakily to her feet, her fae ears struggling to keep track of the beating of wings approaching her position as they became muffled and her vision hazed. How could she be so stupid? How could she be so unaware of the legion of soldiers and beasts watching her from the peak of the mountain? Queens weren’t meant to be shot down from the skies, especially fae queens who were at one with them.

Retrieving the dagger from the waistband of her briefs, she looked up through the trees, spying the wavering shadows of the winged beasts hovering overhead and willing her wobbling legs into the thickness of the woodland, struggling up the mounds, panting and grunting as she did her best to ignore the spreading poison in her veins that weakened her more each passing moment. The chill coursing up her spine told her that the beasts were closing in, that and their giggles of terror echoing through the forest, making it clear that they were enjoying the hunt and had no wish to kill her, but to only take her back to their master.

The Queen of the Fae continued to run as fast as her legs would allow, relying on her depleting senses to carry her to safety, but it was to no avail.

A body barrelled y/n into a nearby tree, and she felt her ribs crack and splinter underneath her skin at the force of it. Tears prickled her eyes and soft whimpers of frustration fell from her lips, but she wasn’t allowed to clamber to her feet, not when a winged beast drew a scream from her lips as its talons became embedded in her belly, her shriek was loud and shrill, and it sent shockwaves through the earth and air.

“Pretty thing, isn’t she?” A voice as void as death teased, saliva from its fangs dripped onto her skin, searing the surface with its acidity, “Did you truly think that he didn’t know of you? That you wouldn’t come to aid your blood?”

Ripping its talons from her flesh, y/n felt the blood flow from the open wound. The beast curled a razor sharp digit under her chin, lifting her gaze to its face, and its cunning grin made anger swarm inside of her chest.

“How did he know?” Y/N panted, blood continuing to pour from the deep puncture in her abdomen, doing her best to distract the clan of nightmarish creatures for just long enough.

“Your brother isn’t the only one with allies in high places,” the others chuckled, happy to sit back and watch their ring leader torment the poisoned queen at their complete mercy. “Our king wants you alive, but we personally don’t want to see a thing like you live.”

Not a monster like you.

Poison to the earth.

Kin of demons.

Their chants echoed around her, burying themselves into the marrow of her bones.

The beast raised its gnarled hand, a sadistic grin upon its monstrous excuse of a mouth, ready to strike. Ready to take the life of a poisoned queen of a different world.

But it stopped.

Not by its own accord, however.

A blast of dark magic erupted from the east, sending the creature looming over her wailing and clutching at itself whilst it twisted horridly through the air, becoming impaled on a nearby set of branches. Flashes of blue and gold coiled over her hazed vision followed by the dying shrieks of beasts gargling on the blacks of their own blood, and despite the blood coating her lips, y/n couldn’t resist a smile.

Turning her head to the side, she counted three males, two from her world and one not, all fighting, all appearing to her in their own glorious beauties, but they were too enthralled in the taste of battle to notice what was creeping up on them, all too focused on what was going on at the tips of their fingers to observe.

Without thinking, and with using all of the strength she had left, y/n threw herself onto her feet, knife in hand and vision clearing with the last burst of adrenaline that flowed through her veins. Before it could reach Azriel, she hurtled herself onto the back of it, screaming and digging her dagger into its spine over and over. The monster clawed at her legs, shredding the fabric of her pants and slicing her skin like paper. It didn’t stop her, and with one final plunge into the back of its skull, the monster went rigid and fell onto the ground, leaving her stood before the three males that she was far too relieved to see.

Heaving in uneasy breathes, Y/N rested a hand on her hip, knowing that all the three males could look at was the deep wound settled into her stomach that was leaking blood at the tempo of her heartbeat. “Azriel, I’m sure you introduced yourself to Lorcan and Aedion?”

Azriel didn’t say a word, he couldn’t, not when she looked as she did. Pale. Bloody. Weak. Her hair had become loose and stuck to the side of her face, her clothes were saturated in blood and filth, and her wings. Gods. Her wings were impaled with arrows, feathers askew and some littering the ground.

How she was still standing, none of them knew. They all knew that she should be dead.

It was Lorcan who was the first to move, a male that towered over Azriel birthed by death itself, he moved to y/n, catching her swaying body in his large arms. “Tell me you brought Yrene,” y/n pleaded breathlessly, wincing as Lorcan swept her into his arms with little to no effort at all.

“She’s at that shack you’ve been staying in,” Aedion paced across the ground splattered in blood, her own and the creatures that had shot her from the skies, and rested his hand on her cheek, worry laced in the eyes which were twin to Aelin’s.

“Good. That’s good,” her once pristine white teeth were drowning in an ocean of red, it poured from the corners of her lips, and with a stiff nod from Aedion, Lorcan ran faster than anything Azriel had ever seen, leaving him and the blonde haired warrior alone in the clearing.

“If she dies,” Aedion trailed off, already not enjoying the company of the Shadowsinger considering he had allowed his queen to venture in the void on her own, he turned to Azriel, eyes ablaze and disgust snarling on his lips, “We will tear this world apart.”

We. As in Aelin and Rowan, Aedion and Lorcan, and no doubt the thing they called Manon.

A chill ran down Azriel’s spine at the thought, but all he could do was nod and move back to the cabin with Aedion in tow, watching and assessing him. He couldn’t describe the fear he felt when that rush of power startled him awake, nor the pain in his gut that felt like he was being disembowelled, and when Lorcan and Aedion barged into the cabin with a sheepish woman in tow did he realise just what was happening.

Azriel had called for Rhys instantly before they left for her, leaving Yrene behind to set up her supplies with a paling face, like she could smell in the air what was coming her way.

By the time they had made it back to the cabin, the anguish was palpable in the air. Rhys and Lorcan stood leaning against the beams of the door, both looking up from the ground through their lashes once they heard the rustling of leaves and footsteps approaching. From the look on his face, Azriel knew that Rhys was furious, with him or the appearance of Aedion and Lorcan he couldn’t quite tell but he was leaning toward the former.

“How is she?” Aedion stalked ahead, wanting to go into the room, no doubt because of the bond that flowed between him and y/n, but Lorcan stopped him with a firm hand on the shoulder, halting the warrior before he could take one step further.

Rhys’ gaze fell on Azriel and he cocked his head to the side with no emotion in his eyes, “Where were you?”

“I was sleeping.” Lorcan scoffed at the words, he knew that he would never choose to sleep over protecting his queen. “She told me that she was going to get firewood.”

“And you believed her?” Aedion asked, distaste on his tongue and hatred in his eyes.

“I had no reason not to,” Azriel deadpanned, craning his neck to try and catch a glimpse of y/n inside, “Will she be alright?”

The observant eye of Lorcan swept over him, noting his desperation, noting his guilt and self-loathing, and he shuffled on his feet, “If anyone can save her then it would be Yrene.”

As if on cue, the door to the cabin opened to give way for Yrene to step outside, and Azriel caught a fleeting glimpse of y/n upon the bed, chest rising and falling with bandages wrapped around her torso and thighs. “She’ll live, but the effects of the poison may last a couple of days,” she sent a pointed glare to Lorcan and Aedion, one of question. “The question is how they got their hands on the only poison that can hurt her, it’s too refined a recipe to live in this world.” Yrene wiped her bloodied hands upon her apron and sighed.

Aedion and Lorcan shared a pointed glance, “Aelin will want her back in Erilea once she hears of this.”

Sighing, Rhys ran a hand over his face, like he knew something that the rest of them didn’t, “Aelin already knows that my sister has been harmed,” his words beckoned the attention of the three males and Yrene, and Rhys’ eyes flickered between all of them, “Aelin is in Velaris. It seems that whatever brought you here did the same for her, and Rowan, and the one you call Manon. And since y/n’s power won’t fully return for a few days, you’re all stuck here.”

Dread settled into Azriel’s gut at the thought of what beating was due to come his way, but he refused to focus on it. He entered the cabin, slowly approaching the bed and drifting his hand over the pallid fingers of y/n, shivering at the cold that settled inside of him.

“I’ll winnow her back. Can you take care of those three?” Rhys appeared at his side, eyes soft as they drank in the corpse of his sister. Rhys moved to her, sliding his hands under her legs and around her back, apologising to her gently at her soundless whimpers.

Once Rhys was done making sure that she was settled and as comfortable as she could be, he stepped backward into the black mists of his power, leaving Azriel alone with three beings he was sure wanted to end his existence.

Authors Note

Sorry this took so long! Life has really been lifing recently 😭

Taglist

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[qwimblenorrisstan]

Pillow Fight | Aedion x Reader

Summary: After all of Terassen is sick of the constant bickering between you and Aedion, Aelin sends you both out together on a quest to slay a beast, and not to return until you have its head. On the way, you are forced into a small inn room with him, only to find that it has…too many beds.

Word Count: ~ 1.6k

Warnings: None! Other than a poor, poor salamander

A/N: This was entirely inspired by reverse trope prompts by @out-of-jams (tyyy), but I got a lil carried away, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

You two had been traveling nonstop, first through the ice-cold territory of the White Fang Mountains, then back to Annielle, then to Ellywe, all because Aelin had sent the two of you on some wild goose chase for a creature you were pretty sure by now that didn’t even exist.

Mainly because everyone in Terassen’s castle had grown tired of the hateful looks you and Aedion constantly threw at each other, or the shenanigans you pulled off just to piss him off, or the other way around. The both of you were the closest of rivals if not enemies, and maybe more.

Aelin had given you a look that clearly said, “Get your shit together before you come back.” And then promptly kicked you both out.

There had been a ward placed that stated neither of you could enter Terassen for more than a day until you returned with the head of the creature.

And so you two had ventured out, still glaring at each other, spitting hateful words and accusations.

And as you arrived inside the poor, shabby-looking inn you’d found in Innish and paid a few coins for a decent room, the little maid woman led the both of you to a room. She gave an apologetic look as she opened the door with the set of keys.

“It’s all we have,”

She said, opening the door and dropping the key in your hand before scurrying off back to the front desk where a bell now rang.

You and Aedion stepped inside, gaping at the room you now beheld in front of you.

“Holy fucking shit, that is a lot of beds.”

He swore viciously, mouth agape at what seemed like miles of beds in every shape and size before you. It shouldn’t, couldn’t, be possible. The room alone must’ve been bigger than the entire Inn at this rate, bigger than Innish itself maybe.

Miles of beds, blankets, and pillows of every manner.

“Goddamn..”

You muttered, and you and his eyes met, both bewildered, but with a temporary agreement in your gazes. A temporary peace treaty between you two, until you figured out what the hell was going on.

“Do you think we can-“

He asked, voice trailing off as he tried to open the door, turn the knob, but it didn’t so much as budge. His eyes went wider, panicking as you tossed him the key, and surely enough, it didn’t work. Aedion slammed his weight against the door, harder each time, but it didn’t move at all.

He glanced at you, eyes wide as he turned his back to the door, while you watched the bedding around you.

“Help me out here,”

He hissed, and you snapped out of it, but when you turned and began walking to where the door should’ve been, instead there was a mattress. Then, every wall you’d glanced from was now mattresses, the ceiling being mattresses, both of you trapped in an infinite bed-hell.

“Okay, maybe we just…ate something poisonous on the way here, and we’re hallucinating. Maybe we can sleep it off.”

You suggested, and though Aedion gave you a doubtful look, both of you were panicking and desperate for any solution at all. You were trapped. Completely, utterly trapped.

“Let’s..uh, build a shelter.”

He suggested in a gruff tone, despite the sheepishness in his face as you scowled.

“A pillow fort?”

You asked in a disbelieving tone, and he shot you a glare, beginning to pick up mattresses and make a base, for walls to settle into. Wherever the mattresses were taken, more appeared to settle into their place. You started helping, mattresses being tossed his way, some even whacking him on the head, purposefully most of the time.

It wasn’t long until you had a decent little structure built, somewhat like a giant gingerbread house made of beds. Pillows lined the insides, as well as a giant nest of blankets the both of you had made. Neither of you dared let go of your possessions or put anything down, in fear it might disappear completely.

He cleared his throat, sitting on the other edge of the giant nest, opposite from you. You raised a brow at him, and the words he seemed to be struggling to even get out. Swallowing what was left of his pride, he lifted a pillow in one hand and kicked one over to you, sheepishly smiling before he spoke.

“Wanna have a pillow fight? I mean, you don’t have to, but me and Aelin used to..and I just-“

His rambling was stopped very quickly as you grabbed a pillow and slung it over your shoulder, hitting him full speed in the face as he made a small “oomph” and laughed. He stood, and you did as well before the both of you were slinging pillows and mattresses and whatever else you could find in this place, previous hatred long forgotten as you both giggled and laughed like children, grinning and crying tears of laughter.

Pillowcases were everywhere, feathers too, and whatever else had been stuffing the inside of some of those pillows also spread across the inside of your fort by the end of it, both of you snorting in laughter and panting for breath as you lie side by side with each other.

“If I were as good with a sword as I am a pillow, it would be over for you, Aedion Ashryver.”

You huffed, though your insecurity with swordplay managed to sneak into your voice slightly. Maybe even your scent, as Aedion noticed it. You were an absolute wonder with a bow, but swords and daggers and all that? Hopeless.

“If I were as good with a bow as you are, it’d be over for everyone.”

He said, trying to make light of it, although he was insecure of his skills with a bow. He’d seen you at work before. He knew how to handle blades and swords and whatnot, but bows? He could barely aim straight.

Your face contorted in a small frown.

“Yeah, but you’re good as hell with a sword, anyway. Why would you need to handle a bow?”

You questioned, slight confusion contorting your features. Aedion only blinked, before frowning back and mimicking your question slightly.

“Well, you’re good as hell with a bow. Why would you need to handle a sword?”

You just blinked. A bit of discomfort crossed your face before you spoke, quieter than before.

“I dunno, it just seems like something I…should know. I guess I was just jealous of you.”

You begrudgingly admitted, and something in Aedion’s chest both warmed and panged with something else. He wasn’t used to seeing this side of you, vulnerable and exposed.

“I’m the sword guy, you’re the bow guy. I was a little jealous of your…bow-er-y, I guess.”

He admitted with a shrug, and the tension and hatred between you two lightened as if almost gone. It had just been jealousy keeping you two apart. You snorted at his words.

“You mean archery?”

“Oh, whatever.”

The both of you lay in silence for a moment, hands above your heads, bodies relaxed and stretched out as you just thought and stared into the roof of your mattress-fort. Eventually, he spoke first.

“Y’know, you aren’t that bad.”

He said, and you smirked, glancing over at him. He smirked back as you replied.

“Yeah, you aren’t that bad, either.”

It was then when it happened, the faint glow in the center of your blanket nest, more like a horde of blankets with how disheveled it was at this point. The pillow in the center, placed there so you two could prop your feet up in comfort, was faintly glowing.

Aedion was on it before you could touch it, carefully poking and prodding, before shrugging, more to himself than you, as he pulled a knife out and ripped it open. Inside the pillow, was none other than a decapitated salamander’s dried-up head.

You both cringed at it, even as you shifted up and spied the little note that fell from the inside of the pillow. Carefully picking it up, you read it aloud, glancing at Aedion first, and he listened.

“I’m overjoyed to know that you’ve found the mighty beast that’s been terrorizing Erilea for months, and that you’ve enjoyed your little outing, take your time coming home - Your favorite Queen.”

A salamander.

Everything they’d gone through, Aelin had sent them hunting for a goddamn salamander, just to set this up. As soon as you handed the note to Aedion, and he folded it into his pocket as well as the lizard, the room returned to what would be a normal Innish one. The pillow fort was gone, the miles of beds gone, only two normal-sized beds, creaky floorboards, a small bathroom with a tub, and whatnot.

“Oh, I am going to smite her for this-“

“Not if I can first!”

You and Aedion both burst out the door, now working normally by whatever magic Aelin had worked to make you two be trapped here until you weren’t insufferably hateful to each other anymore and practically flew from the streets of Innish, traveling as fast as you could back to Terassen, a certain hawk sometimes stalking your journey as if checking up on you.

Each time it left as soon as it had come.

You and Aedion were not only united in friendship now but also the urge to show Aelin just how pissed you both were about the stupid mission she’d sent them on. Though you both knew it was for your own good, and that you wouldn’t actually do anything.

[yrqrnc]

stages of falling.

jaemin x gn!reader

wc: 1.2k

genre: angst, fluff, uhh slice of life?

before the age of 1, jaemin falls a countless number of times.

while learning how to get up on his own and walk; with the gentle support of his mother’s hands and the push of his father’s strength— he wobbles, and stumbles, and trips a hundred and thousand times before he finally learns to stand on his own two feet.

between the age of 1 to 3, too, jaemin falls down multiple times.

tripping over his own foot, losing balance of his still wobbly, weak legs, for he hadn’t quite mastered the art of walking yet, and running was still a bit far ahead.

he falls a few many times, after getting too excited seeing his momma then attempting to rush to her with his tiny legs and the biggest grin on his face, only to fall flat on it when he’d tried to speed, before he got picked up with careful hands into a warm embrace as his chubby cheeks stained with wet tears from the hit.

at the age of 5, he realizes there are mean friends too.

he falls hard.

turns out preschool kids could be quite rough; he was play-fighting with his new classmates in his new school one moment, and the next, he was on the muddy floor of the playground, next to the slide, with a bruised knee and couple of nasty scratches on his arms.

that day, he went home with tears in his eyes and dried blood on his clothes, and the weight of a feeling he couldn’t understand or name, but it was heavy, and ugly, and undesirable, and jaemin didn’t like it.

later, he grew to know people called it “embarrassment” and “humiliation”.

at the age of 11, he gets into a fight for the first time.

with spiked up hormones that had newly arrived to him, just as to any growing teenager, and irritation that ignited within the blink of an eye, he throws a punch at a guy from the other class for reasons he can no longer remember, and gets one right back, and before he knows it, it keeps going back and forth until his homeroom teacher rushes in and pulls both of them apart before dragging them both to the principal.

he returns back to his house with scoldings written on the front pages of his school diary by his teacher, and anger lowly burning in the pit of his stomach and the back of his mind.

at the age of 16, jaemin thinks he falls again, but this time, there’s no pain, or bruise, or blood — there’s only this weird fluttering feeling in his stomach and a fuzzy blur in his mind that makes him stutter and lose words whenever he sees her.

jaemin falls for a girl, he thinks.

she has shiny black hair and pearl eyes, puffy cheeks, and pimples on her forehead too, but he finds them rather cute.

he likes the way she talks to the teachers and the way she laughs with her friends. her handwriting is messy, but she’s smart and scores well. she doodles at the top corner of her notebooks.

and as jaemin admires her from afar, he falls.

but 16-year-old jaemin falls alone.

the pretty girl stays still and indifferent; she looks over at his direction a few times, but her gaze focuses somewhere far behind where he stands, at someone who’s not him. and she smiles, but it’s not for him.

it’s never for him.

he decides he will never fall again.

but, at the age of 18, jaemin falls again — the hardest he’s ever fallen.

he falls on his entire body, trembling and aching, and his leg is stuck under the bike, whose tires still roll on even as the vehicle lays sideways, flat on the road after the crash.

he tugs and tugs until he’s able to get his legs out of the gap, and he crawls over to the body that lays still and unmoving on the harsh ground.

he feels his two hands hanging helplessly against his sides, and he doesn’t know what to do with them.

should he hold them together tightly against his chest and pray, pray, pray for a miracle and for all of it to get better? or should he stretch them out into the open and do– something, anything?

but no one had ever taught him what to do with empty hands.

he reaches out and puts his two hands together, pressing against the deep wound, hoping for something to make it all better – but the bleeding doesn’t stop; it only stains his pale hands a bright vermillion.

and that emptiness that had become a part of him stays embedded within his skin, but it turns red today.

it’s the brightest color he’s ever seen, and he feels dizzy.

who would’ve known that the brightest things could also be such thieves, such horrible, horrible nightmares?

jaemin falls onto his hands and knees, and watches helplessly as his best friend lays on the bed of the earth, eyes blankly staring up at the ceiling of the world, as he gives life back every breath and ounce of love that he had ever been given.

every bit of it.

jaemin feels something drip down his face, and it’s wet, and it makes him want to crawl out of his skin. 

he isn’t sure if it’s his own tears or someone else’s life that taints his skin.

it is only when he is 18, that jaemin believes he’s not alone for the first time in life.

he falls like he always has, again, but this time, someone falls with him.

they fall together, down and hard. but he gets up alone.

jaemin wishes he’d fallen on his own.

he wishes he always falls on his own, now. never with someone else.

( ★ )

at 23, jaemin falls again.

it’s been long since the last time, and he’s scared, but one thing he’s realized over the years is that - you can never control when, how and why you fall. 

so he falls.

he falls for starry eyes and a sunshine smile, the scent of sandalwood and citrus; for gentle hands and a warm embrace; for cherry-flavored chapsticks and stargazing, and with every bit of the universe—because it held you.

he keeps falling.

but you’re right there with him, and you’re falling too, and this time, he never hits rock-bottom.

he still gets scratches every now and then, and pain and grief grazes past him ever so often, but one look at you, and he realizes that falling was never supposed to be harmless and rainbows, after all.

it would hurt, but it would also give him back a thousand more moments of happiness and bliss.

perhaps, he thinks, he’d never recognize the face of joy if he didn’t drown in something of the complete opposite.

jaemin falls, falls, and falls.

he falls for the dreamy look in your eyes and the way you cackle at his jokes no matter how unfunny they are; he falls for the dates that you prepare for you two in the back of your car, with fairy lights and all things bright, and he falls for the warmth of your body and your words and your presence.

he falls for you and everything that comes with you, and he keeps falling. he believes when told that – all the falls he’d taken till this very moment was all to mount up to you.

and he thinks, one day, he’ll forgive himself and the universe, because you’re here now.

so, at the age of 23, jaemin falls. 

and he never stops falling.

[brights-place]

hiii!! could i request platonic brozone with a sibling reader who makes "kawaii metal" music (kind of like babymetal, if u wna look into it!)

basically they were the overlooked one of the siblings, weren't in brozone and when they all split up reader took their leave and began make metal/rock music !! maybe they reconnected with branch during the world tour and have kept in contact since? they didnt go on the adventure to save floyd (werent there for the wedding) but just the shinanigans that ensue when everyone is back together? angst with a fluff ending maybe?

Brozone with an Kawaii Metal! Sibling

Pairing: Brozone X S/O (Platonic)

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Swearing

A/N: OKAY I LOVE BABY METAL I VIBE TO IT SOMETIMES! DUDE ITS SO COOL AND THEIR OUTFITS ARE SO AMAZING! also I didn't highlight who was speaking cause I wrote this at 2:00am so sorry honey!

Your E/c eyes darted around the room after the mishap of what had happened on the Brozone stage every single do of your siblings were fighting except for branch who you quickly covered his ears before you shouted at them to stop which they didn’t listen at all bringing you into the argument aswell causing you tog get mad.

It was known in the family that you were overlooked for being the only girl and not the best singer or dancer like your brothers or any other pop troll so you were mainly shunned to the side. You were close to cursing out John Dory but was cut off by the male leaving the pod with an grappling hook while Clays and Bruce separated aswell as Your eyes glared at the three who had left to their rooms before glancing towards Floyd who gave the tow an guilty look as You scoffed leaving the pod to take breath of fresh air. Floyd stepped out before sitting beside you on the tree branch you were sitting on frowning as Floyd spoke "(name...)" you glanced behind him as he placed an hand on your shoulder "Take care of branch..." Your eyes glanced towards him "You better come back cause I'll be leaving soon" Floyd nodded slowly as you stood up and entered the pod hugging Branch who was confused before Branch whispered to you "are they coming back?" You glanced towards Branch and towards your grandma rosie puff who sighed "Yeah... it normal to happen" grandma rosie puff said walking over joining the hug as days later grandma rosie puff panicked when realizing They ACUTALLY LEFT. For the past years you helped your family before you had to go when branch was just 9 years old when you told him you were leaving he hugged you as you left the pod thanking grandma rosie and told Branch goodbye. How long had it been? 17? years since you left while it was 20 years for your Older brothers...

You stood on a stage with a bright smile as you moved around singing the lights focusing on you and your outfit which was a mix of bright and cheerful colors, with lots of pink and purple hues. Black accents are used to create a bold contrast.

The top was a crop top with lace up details on the sides, and it's in a pastel pink tone. The sleeves have loose ruffles to create a playful vibe. The skirt has a high waisted design, and is in a dark purple hue. It has several layers of ruffles, and is cut in a tiered shape yet there were slight metal like designs for example the spikes around the girls wrists and her studded belt that was held with her skirt.

You soon posed finishing your song panting looking into the crowd to see branch who stood beside a pink girl troll and Queen Barb as you squealed seeing the girl “Barbie-chan!” You teased tackling Barb in a hug as she groaned you still rembering the nickname you gave her when you caught her singing barbie in the middle of the night before glancing to Poppy nodding towards her in a greeting as she squealed "Hi! Im poppy! Barb has told us so much bout you! this is my boyfriend-" you caught Poppy off with speaking up "branch..." you teared up slightly covering your mouth as branch stared at you with wide eyes "(name)" You walked over cupping his face "You've grown so much little bro" you hugged him tightly as Poppy stared with wide eyes confused "YOU HAVE A SISTER?!" "It isn't that big of a deal-" "IT IS! OMG I HAVEN'T MET YOU! THIS IS SO AMAZING!" Poppy squealed hugging you again as you laughed patting Poppy is back "Its good to know someone took care of him when We- I was gone" You said making eye contact with branch who gave a weak smile towards you as you gave a sad look.

He filled you in what you missed and you cried but soon you reconnected next thing you knew a few months later you got sick so you couldn’t attend Bridgette and king gristles wedding but told branch and poppy to scrapbook it for you which poppy agreed to so much while branch hugged you goodbye.

You were informed by Barb, the others that Poppy and branch were on adventure which you were sad about but loved for them to bond more cause you what’s dot be an Auntie so bad!

Currently you were on stage jamming out singing at Volcano rock city branch saying he has to show me while poppy shouted that it was a surprise for you which you were excited about. While you were on stage your dress bouncing where you danced around singing as Trolls who enjoyed your ‘baby metal’ themed singing along as a group of five trolls stared at you on your stage with shock well 4/5 since branch was cheering

You made eye contact with him raising your Handel wave at your younger brother before freezing entirely when seeing four others that had left you with branch and grandma a bubbling feeling rising in your chest your grip on troubled tightening as you finished the song before leaving stage heading into your dressing room holding your head in your hands

You stood in front of your dressing room mirror panting as your heart raced slightly. You'd just been singing on stage when you noticed out of the corner of your eye you'd seen your OTHER four brothers in the crowd. They'd left you and Branch all those years ago, and now here they were watching you perform. As you stumbled into the dressing room, your head was swirling with a mix of emotions. You could feel the anger and hurt rising up in your chest, threatening to boil over.

As you sit in the dressing room your mind churns with conflicting emotions. Part of you wanted to burst out and confront them right then and there to demand explanations and reparations for leaving you and Branch behind for you to be the one with your grandomther to take care of him but another part of you hesitated... It had been twenty long years since you'd last seen them and a lot had changed. Perhaps they had also grown and matured and there was a chance for reconciliation and forgiveness.

A shaky breath past your lips for a moment as you hesitantly stepped out of the dressing room you were greeted by your older four siblings who stood waiting. Your eyes widened at their stances they looked nervous and guilty avoiding eye contact as they shuffled their feet awkwardly mostly John Dory as you took a moment to eye them silently as you were taking note of the slight changes in their appearances and demeanor. John Dory had slighter blue skin then back then when you were young his forest green hair with black eyebrows, his eyes are cyan and black, and a purple indigo nose. He wears this shirt in his torso, a brown and white plush collared vest with brown polka dots on his collars, green ripped shorts, and he is barefoot. His fingerless glove is brown, and a pair of goggles with magenta lenses and a lime green frame. The others changed alot to Spruce had the same slighter blue skin. Lucious purple hair with eyebrows, his eyes are black, and a purple nose. He is seen wearing his shirt with a black and white feather necklace around his neck, a black and white short-sleeved open jacket with scales on it, white roped shorts Clay's pale teal skin was normal yet now he had lime green hair that are from dark teal eyebrows his eyes are blue, and a blue nose. He wears a dark green romper with a green diamond and white outlines, lime green and white stripes bracelets. While your last brother floyd looked away making slight eyecontact with you as you paused pursing your lips for a slight moment Floyd was the last to stare at and how much he had changed from back in the day same skin tone as the rest and his usual dark magenta pink hair and eyebrows, his eyes are purple, and wears a black pearl earring on his right ear. Half of his hair is twisted around his head and partly covers the left side of his face. He is shirtless and has black ripped shorts and a large belt-buckle wrapped around his waist You stared at them you felt out of place when branch grinned motioning you to step forward as you eyed them before speaking "What are you doing here?" you questioned crossing your arms defensively as you surveyed your other siblings as branch patted your shoulder.

The four of them averted their gazes awkwardly shifting their weight and avoiding eye contact. John Dory in particular looked the most guilty he seemed to be struggling to find the right words to say. "We wanted to talk," he finally blurted out, his eyes darting up to meet yours before quickly looking away again. You hesitantly nodded, your arms still crossed tightly across your chest. Your eyes flicked between the four of them, taking in their nervous expressions. "Go on" you said gesturing for them to speak voice steady but cold. "Talk" Before you knew it your older brothers were hugging you babbling apologies as you panicked slightly as branch also felt awkward when wrapped around in the group hug with you as you paused "WHOA WHOA! Chill out!" You said scratching your cheek nervously. Maybe you might have missed them abit... your older brothers were the best... yet you still held them leaving you against them proudly now being able to do things to them in return which caused you and Branch to cause some chaos

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