#bringing forth her wings
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Bringing forth her Wings
As a little girl, Talia watched birds obsessively, and learned how to draw just so she could capture their wings. Figures ranging from pilots like Bessie Coleman to superheroes like Storm were especially her favorites, and she voraciously tore through any piece of their media she could get her hands on.
——————
This especially came true once her chronic pain started, right around her eleventh birthday. Scraping aches that dragged into her shoulders, like she pulled the weight of the world behind her, haunted Talia’s every move.
A couple weeks later her Mom came in to give her a goodnight kiss, and put her hand onto Talia’s shoulder, and Talia whimpered.
Her mom pulled her hand back as if scalded. “Baby? Baby, what’s wrong? Oh my god!”
“It’s okay, Mama. The pain is just really bad today.” Tanya squinted to hold back the tears watering in her eyes and smiled.
“Pain? Talia, baby, what pain? Sit up, if you can, let me look.”
Talia grumbled about being comfortable, but did as her mom said, dragging herself up by the bars of her headboard. She only winced once, but that was enough for her mom.
“Malik? Honey, come here!” Her mom called as she lifted up Talia’s shirt, exposing her back.
Her dad shuffled in, rubbing his mouth with his hand like he always did when he was tired. “What’s wrong, Keisha?”
Her mom didn’t answer, but only stared.
Her dad came and stared too for a moment. Then, he growled, “Who did this to her?”
“I don’t know. I just patted her back and she cried out.“ Talia’s mom gently guided her to the edge of the bed, so her dad could keep looking at her back but her mom could face her. “Baby, did anyone hurt you?”
Talia was confused. “No?”
Her dad said, “Natalia. Your shoulders are black and blue. Who’s been hitting you?”
“No one, Daddy.” Talia looked at her mom. “Isn’t this just growing pains?”
Her mom twisted her mouth. “Maybe.” That meant no. “How long have your shoulders been hurting, baby?”
“A couple weeks. Mama, I’m okay, right?”
Talia’s mom twisted her mouth further.
Her Dad rumbled from behind. “Talia, I can make sure this won’t happen again. Who did this? You don’t have to keep them safe. I pro-“ He took a deep breath. “I promise I won’t hurt them. I just want to talk to whoever did this.”
“Daddy, isn’t this just growing pains?”
After assuring her that no, that it wasn’t just normal growing pains, her mom drove her to the hospital and her dad stayed because he had an early morning and someone had to stay home with her little sisters.
It was scary. The lights were bright, and her mom kept fussing about her back pain, offering her lap to lie on and staring down anyone that so much as looked at Talia. The waiting room wasn’t that full, but it still took two hours, Talia slipping in and out of sleep despite the pain and the light, before they were called up.
When the nurse saw the bruises, her mom was lead away and a bunch of people asked her a lot of questions.
Eventually, though, some doctor noticed that the bruising was ‘deep but consistently in the same spot’, which would be weird for abuse. They did some X-rays and noticed that her shoulder blades were large, tilted and spread farther away from her spine than was usual.
Her mom remembered that her grandmother had often complained of shoulder pain, so the doctor said it was probably congenital.
“Miss Roberts,” the doctor turned to Talia. “I’m going to prescribe you some medicine. We can’t do anything to fix this right now, because you’re growing, but if you’re ever in pain, you tell your Mom right away and she’ll give you some medicine, mkay?”
Talia nodded, and that was that. The two went home, and passed out, and Talia got to miss school. Later they went out for the medicine and ice cream.
——————
The medicine never really helped, so when it ran out, Talia didn’t remind her parents to get more. She could ignore it anyway.
——————
Years later, Talia was in the middle of getting a degree in aerospace engineering, but that didn’t stop her from still creating art.
She finished a particularly ambitious painting, and after one or twenty encouragements from her parents, submitted it to the art show.
The painting was kind of a self portrait, kind of a fuck-you to her chronic pain, and kind of a callback to the Flying Africans stories.
At the bottom and to the right lay the world, and over that, the sky fading into space. Above both was a flying woman.
The subject was viewed from above, arms out to the sides, broken manacles on both, and a leg stretched out to West Africa. Dark wings like those of a glossy starling covered left side, too big to fit entirely on the canvas. The feathers closest to the subject’s back were covered in blood.
It wasn’t obviously her, because the viewer couldn’t see the subject’s face, it being tilted down to look at the world below. But both she and the subject were the same rich umber, and she included a couple moles on her shoulder and upper back. Talia figured those little details might tip off people who knew her.
“You think I should send it in?” She asked her mom. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
Talia could practically hear her mom roll her eyes. “Baby, I’ve been telling you since middle school! You’re good! And from what I saw over winter break, it’s beautiful!”
The university had a gallery, and every February before the senior art students had settled on their own gallery set ups, they held an art show for the other students to submit their work. So Talia brought it in on the Friday deadline.
The student curator was her friend, Selena, and she went wild when she saw it. “Oh my god, please tell me you have more!” Selena pleaded.
Talia shook her head and looked down, hiding a shy grin. “Nothing this big. I have a lot of sketches, though?”
“Go get them. Right now. You gave me an idea.”
Selena sent her back twice before she was satisfied, calling for anything from other smaller paintings to doodles in the margins of notebooks. “For the record,” Selena said as she grabbed the pile of papers from Talia’s hands, “I’m not doing this just ‘cause you’re my friend. We didn’t get a ton of submissions but,” Selena winked. “We also didn’t get much of anything at this caliber.”
Talia’s face heated up and she mumbled something about getting lunch together later.
“Mmmm, I’m not sure about that.” Selena eyed the piles of artwork. “This might take me a while. Would you mind if I ripped some of the drawings?”
“Huh?” Talia started reaching for her work.
“Just the margin doodles! And maybe a few of the smaller drawings. Just to get rid of the empty space! I promise. I will NOT rip the actual drawings.”
“I don’t know-“
“Please! I promise you’ll love it.”
“Tell me what you’re thinking, over lunch.”
——————
Selena sketched out what she was thinking on a napkin in the dining hall. “Do you see?”
Talia did see. “That’s a lot of work, Selena. Are you sure?” Her back throbbed - anxiety always made it flare up.
Selena laid her hand on top of Talia’s. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”
Talia took a bite of her burrito.
Selena sucked her teeth. “Shut up. How about this - I can use the big pieces up on these parts, and then you come supervise me doing the little bits how you like it.”
Talia kept chewing, thinking it over.
“Please? I feel inspired. I pretty much got everything else planned out, the lighting and set up will be super easy. Yours will be the fun part! The challenge!“
Talia raised an eyebrow.
“Okay. I also kind of miss doing collages. Between coursework and this job, I have NOT had enough time for fun or my own stuff!”
Talia pursed her lips - she could still taste the jungle juice from the party the weekend prior.
“Okay! And I have to impress my supervisor. She was kind of disappointed in my set up for that pottery exhibition last semester, and that bitch Gina has been sniffing around. I gotta keep this job!”
Talia grinned. “I was just playing with you. Yeah, okay. But how about I help you do the little bits when I’m done writing my paper tomorrow?”
——————
Talia couldn’t believe how beautiful it ended up looking.
The wings that flew off the canvas were extended by her drawings over the years, layering over each other like feathers on a backboard Selena procured. The doodles were artfully ripped and scrappily pinned on the edges, to mimic how some remiges separated when spread out in flight.
Talia did end up having to rip around some of her larger drawings to add to those feathers, but ny the end, she was smiling. The other feathers weren’t the same color as the wings on the painting, but-
“It looks like she’s coming to life.” Selena said while pinning up the last few ‘feathers’.
Talia nodded, heart swelling. “Like magic or something.”
“Yeah.”
Once they were done pinning the perfect shade of colored paper to cover up the rest of the backboard, both women laid down in exhaustion. Selena fell onto her back, arms flopped out, but Talia carefully folded up her own and laid on her stomach.
“It looks beautiful, Selena.”
“Yeah it does!” Selena punched the air. “Thanks, Talia.”
Talia raised an eyebrow at that. “No, thank you, Selena. I just thought I’d get a corner on a wall, not a whole-“ she cast her eyes around for a second. “Display.”
Both ladies chuckled.
“You have to put your name on there now.“
“No!” Selena sat up and looked at Talia.
She was already shaking her head. “I mean it, Selena. I wouldn’t have tried this - I wouldn’t even thought of it! Yeah, it’s all my drawings but you shaped it. As long as my name goes first, you should put your name on the placard, too.”
“Oh shit!” Selena sprang to her feet. “I got to go and make the placards!”
Selena shooed Talia out of the gallery - non-employees weren’t allowed to stay without supervision - promised to maybe put her name on the sign too, and rushed to the printers, hoping they’d still be open this late.
Talia just laughed, and went to bed.
Selena had insisted they hang the backboard next to the canvas and then pin the collage, so they’d create the perfect perspective. However, Selena was short, so that meant Talia spent most of the time decorating the high parts, with her arms above her head.
As such, her arms and her back ached. Still, between the excitement of the day, the opening of the gallery on Monday, and a feeling of accomplishment from the work, Talia drifted off to sleep quicker than usual. The paper could wait until Sunday.
——————
Sunday had her stuck in bed all day from pain. She managed to finish her paper and eventually get a shower, but that was it.
——————
Dressed in a mint green button-down and a long grey skirt with pink accents, Talia walked into the gallery opening like she owned the place. And that night, she did.
Pride swelled her heart as people walked around the room, and always stopped to stare at her painting. Several left long comments about her work in the logbook. One even mentioned her work on the box braids in the painting - it justified all the agonizing hours spent on the details.
Once the opening party was over, Talia, Selena and the other attending artists poured over the book, and then took pictures with their works. Talia did one where she stood to the right of her canvas, and then one where she mimicked the subject, life imitating art imitating life, wings stretched behind her.
As the week went by, there weren’t nearly as many attendees as there were opening night - but according to Selena, they all still stopped at her painting. She came near closing each day to check on the comments in the logbook.
On Friday, she had a little time to kill, so Talia came early and people watched. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one man stop and consider her work for a solid twenty minutes.
Selena snuck over. “That’s the third time he’s done that. Wednesday, I was busy, but yesterday we talked for a bit about the composition. I bet he’d love to talk to you.”
“No, I-“
“Yes, you!“ Selena poked Talia in the side. “Go!”
Talia went.
Recognition struck as she got closer. He was an international student who worked in the Tutoring Center, and helped her a couple times with her physics. He was kind of cute, but no name came to mind.
Pretending to be a patron, she walked around the room until she reached her painting collage, and stared for a bit too. With slight dismay, she saw that one of the doodle scraps that made up a remige higher up looked it was going to fall soon.
“I wonder…” he said suddenly.
“Yes?” Talia said, rising up on her toes slightly.
He shook his head, smiling to himself. “Just thinking out loud.”
Unable to uphold the pretense any longer, she blurted out, “I’m the artist. Ask away!”
He turned to her. “You did this?”
“Yeah?”
“Wow. Of course such a beautiful piece came from such a beautiful woman.” He grinned, catching her eye.
Blood rushed to her face and she looked down. “I had some help.”
He jerked his chin towards Selena, who was on her phone. “Yes, she told me. And she did a wonderful job, I’m sure. But from what I understand, it was mostly you.”
The heat did not leave her face, but she tried to smirk. “Yeah. It was me.”
He held out a hand to shake. “My name is Theo, Theo Boateng.”
They shook, and got to talking. He had a lot of questions about her inspiration for the piece - “Did you base the feathers off of a specific bird?” “Yes, my favorite, the Glossy Starling.” “Good choice. Mine is the pennant-winged nightjar.” - but once Selena shooed them out so she could close up, they moved to other topics. She was getting a degree in aerospace, he was getting a degree in agricultural engineering. Her home was three hours away by car, his was fifteen by plane. And so on.
A walk around campus became dinner, and then dinner became dessert, and somehow they ended up at her quad and on the couch, watching a movie.
Theo was smooth.
They started on opposite ends of the couch. But he’d shift closer to ask a question, usually about an unfamiliar turn of phrase, in a low tone, as if afraid of interrupting the film. She would move closer to answer, compelled to match his energy, head leaned conspiratorially close. He’d catch her eye and smile, then look down at her mouth. Her face would burn, and her eyes would flit back to the screen.
Eventually, their shoulders brushed, and an electric shudder moved through her body. Theo cast an appraising glance at the contact, like it was a confirmation of a suspicion. That time, Talia kept her eyes firmly on the screen.
The arm moved around her shoulder. She made a conscious move to settle in closer, daring to even put her head on his own shoulder. They were about the same height, but if she scooted down slightly, it was comfortable.
He played with her hair, and she leaned into the touch. But when the final action scene came up on screen, it slowed to a stop.
She waited until the scene was just past the climax, and put her hand on his thigh, rubbing gently.
Theo looked down at her, and licked his lips.
She met his gaze and bit hers, then quickly looked down.
It all happened so fast. One second, she was sitting next to him. The next, she was suddenly laying back on the couch, legs tangled with his as he brought his lips to hers.
Their teeth clashed a little but at this point she didn’t care. She put a hand behind his head, the other pressed upon his lower back. Any space between their bodies suddenly felt too far away.
Theo’s hand crept up her shirt, and she gasped against his lips. She moved her hand lower down his back until it slipped under his pants, grabbing his ass.
They continued like this for a while, kissing and touching, Talia rocking against the taught material of her pants and the bulge in his, until Theo sat up and started unbuttoning his shirt, her hand slipping out of his pants and onto his hip by necessity.
Talia gave it a little squeeze. “Hold on. I don’t know when my roommates will be back…”
Theo’s eyes widened. “Of course! I apologize!” He stood up and started to button his shirt back up.
Talia laughed. “No! No.” She stood up and reached for one of his hands.
A little lost, he gave it to her.
She lead him to her bedroom.
His eyes brightened, and he let out a sign of relief.
Talia threw her tights into the hamper and crawled onto bed to root around in the cupboard next to it. Just when her she grabbed a condom wrapper, she felt Theo squeeze her ass. She sighed, and he started massaging her thighs and ass, hands occasionally ghosting across her pussy through the damp fabric.
She moved a little further back, condom in her hand, and moaned when he brushed against her clit.
“You’re so wet,” he said.
Talia spotted his face in the mirror, a mixture of a smirk and wonder all over.
It made her even more wet. “All for you, Theo.” Despite knowing the man for less than a day, he really did have a strange affect on her.
To that, he slipped his fingers under her panties, dipped his finger between her lips, and gently started rubbing her clit in circles. She moaned, and rocked slightly.
She heard and felt the creak of the bed as he put a knee onto the mattress. Talia felt his stiff length pressed against her ass as he moved against her, fingers still teasing her clit and now her breasts as he reached around her, over her, covering her, a heavy and hot weight that stole her breath away.
“You need this,” he whispered into her ear. “My dick inside of you, stretching out your little hole.”
She nodded, almost frantically.
“Take off your shirt,” he ordered, and sat up a little, taking his hands off of her but not stilling his hips.
They both ended up taking off all their clothes, a little too into it to extend the foreplay. She ended up on her back when she was done, her interest in the view outweighing any possible pain, and rubbed her clit while he fumbled with his belt.
The moonlight illuminated his grin when he was ready, free and hard, and she licked her lips. He was beautiful, she felt beautiful, and she wanted him inside of her.
He descended upon her lips and neck first, kissing and invading and sucking. She met him blow for blow, but only just, rolling waves of need making thinking hard.
Talia hooked a leg around his plump ass, urging him closer. His shaft started to rub deliciously across her clit, so she slipped a hand down to his dick.
It jumped at her touch, and she pumped it gently from base to tip, precum slicking her hand.
While he sucked a mind blowing spot just below her jaw, Talia started to guide his dick into her pussy, clit throbbing and condom forgotten.
Theo pulled back and laughed shakily, need filling his voice. “Talia,” he savored her name for a moment, “I don’t think you’re ready.”
Talia laughed back. “We’ll see.” She reached for him again.
He smirked. “Eager, are we?”
She smirked right back. “Are we doing this, or not?”
He sighed playfully and reached for the condom, which had ended up on the blanket by her head. He rolled it on. “Do you have anything … larger?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Tight condoms are just as much of a problem as loose ones. That’s how I ended up with so many little sisters.”
Talia snorted. “Then why don’t you have one?”
“My wallet’s in the other room, and I haven’t checked if it expired.”
Talia snorted again, but reached for the cabinet drawer again, turning over to reach further. She felt a hand on her ass again, and she shook it a little. The hand tightened. She turned back and sat up, handing it to him.
Theo stole another kiss and rolled the condom on.
Now that she was sitting up, it did look … large. But the condom fit, so she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and opened up.
He did his best to guide himself in, but the head barely popped in, and when he tried to gently thrust a little more in, it felt like too much.
Talia gasped, pleasure and pain making it hard to articulate. “You were right. God, it’s been a while.”
She felt his smile against her neck and then a kiss. “Alright. Lay back. I know a good trick or two.”
She did as ordered, and Theo knelt down and gently took her left leg and put it on his shoulder, then the same with her other leg.
She shook. “Oh God, Theo, you don’t have to-“
But he did.
Theo’s tongue was gentle, at first. He licked delicately along the top of her wet lips, up and down, paying a little extra attention to her clit. She did her best to stay still.
But soon she was squirming as his tongue started delving between her, opening her sticky folds, swollen with arousal. Talia whimpered and grasped at the sheets.
When Theo’s tongue dipped inside her hole, she gasped and tried to squirm, but the hands on her hips held her still and against his face, moaning and smacking. She caught his eyes, which crinkled in a grin, and then he focused on her pussy again, thrusting his tongue and switching to flickering at her clit and back to her hole again. Over and over and over until waves of pleasure wracked her body and he went in and out, tongue thrusting within and lathing her lips and sucking on her clit, tracing circles with a finger when his tongue was occupied. He ate her out like a man possessed, and all she could do was rock against his face and take it.
A singular desperation overtook her body just as Theo stopped. Talia whined, but he just grinned and moved up over her body, kissing his way up until he reached her face.
She felt his erection, throbbing and hard through the condom against her leg as his lips reached her neck. She chased his mouth for a kiss, his wet face, covered with her own arousal making it all strangely hotter. Barely able to get out the words, she rocked against his body and said, “Try again. Now.”
He guided himself in as she pulled him into a deep kiss, her tongue slipping between his lips in attempt to feel him everywhere, closer, together. But she had to pull away in a gasp as the stretch tipped from pleasurable to painful. To make matters worse, her shoulders started to hurt.
But Talia was too worked up to stop. “Let me just …” she reached for the lube in her drawer, Theo’s dick slipping out once again. “Lay back.”
Theo did so.
“Good.” She pumped some into her hand, and then started fingering herself, staring into Theo’s eyes, sharing a grin as he started to touch himself too
He was thick, and dark, and her body ached to have him inside, to press her hips against his and get her lips on his neck.
When she reached the point where her pleasure was ratcheting higher and higher, she straddled Theo’s hips and settled down onto him.
He entered her slowly, inching in and out but gaining ground with each dip of her hips. Despite being in charge of the pace, Talia couldn’t help but moan a little desperately, nearly overwhelmed but unwilling to do anything other than chasing the high of having him completely inside. Her clit hit against his pubic bone repeatedly, and to her delight, she started clenching rhythmically around Theo’s thick length.
He grabbed her ass with one hand and sat up, rocking his hips to increase the intensity but still letting her drive the pace. She met his mouth with hers for a moment, but couldn’t breathe from it all, and gasped away. She pulled him against her instead, caressing his head and feeling the deliciously large muscles of his shoulders and upper back.
For a moment, amidst the sweat and pounding pleasure, she felt some sort of beating against her hands, as if something trapped was fluttering against his skin, but then her orgasm hit and she breathed out his name as she was gone, gone, gone.
When she returned to her senses, he just seemed to be loosing his.
He grabbed at her shoulders, as he mouthed at her neck, pushing her down against his dick as it thrust rapidly inside her aching pussy.
It hurt, more her shoulders than below, but the lasting pleasure left an indulgent haze over her mind, so she barely protested more than a little yelp.
Theo looked up at that, breath caught in his throat, and he looked slightly panicked, so she shook her head. So he kept on, pulling her flush against his hips.
His hands on her shoulders hurt, but in a fascinating way, like poking a bruise. Talia, in a post-orgasmic haze, wasn’t going to argue.
Finally, with a drag of his nails against her shoulder blades, she felt a pulse, and he groaned her name between babbles of gratitude. The condom caught it all, but the wetness that escaped her and dripped into their tangle of legs secretly thrilled her.
Fucking a hot stranger had not been part of her Friday plans originally, but damn! Satisfaction pushed her to kiss his cheek and neck, laughing at his glazed eyes and lips parted in desperate pants, like that hadn’t been her moments before.
When she leaned back, to look at their handiwork, an odd rustling caught her eye. Talia turned around sharply, dreading cooling her ardor. A cracked door and an accidental peeping suite mate would be a nightmare to handle.
She did not see an open door.
Instead, she saw blood. Glossy light reflecting the moon. And blue feathers everywhere.
Talia scrambled off the bed, panicking, “Wha- What did - happened? Do to me? What?” She knocked the lamp off her desk with one wing, and screeched when she saw that her nails had become like talons.
Theo sat bolt upright, and smiled. “So you are one of us!” He suddenly was much the same, talons and wings, though his were brown and orange, with a long white pennant on each wing.
She stared at him.
He continued as if everything was perfectly normal. “When I saw your painting, I thought: Surely not! But I just had to know. And then when I felt your shoulders, I knew.” He grinned, and spread out his arms and hands, also tipped by talons. “But I don’t think you did.” He prattled on, idly wondering how painful, how awful it must have been to have to keep one’s wings bound for so long.
She didn’t know what to say, sinking to the floor, wings awkwardly pooling cupping themselves around her body in the position.
This was why? After all this time, she actually got to find out why?
Theo finally saw her position, and walked over sheepishly, her clothes in his hands. He was still naked, but that didn’t seem to bother him. “Are you alright, Talia?”
She laughed shakily, elbows on her knees and hands in her hair.
He laid the articles at her feet and pulled on his own. Then, seeing she hadn’t moved, he gently helped her up, and helped her dress.
The wings briefly shimmered out of existence - Talia felt it! - as he pulled her shirt over her head. Bras were apparently unneeded. When she looked back, the wings seemed to go through her shirt, but they felt physical, and weighty.
Theo looked her in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Talia. I didn’t think, and I hurt you.”
Her eyes were hot with tears, but suddenly, she couldn’t stop smiling at the sudden lightness in her chest, and the weight on her back. She grasped his hand and kissed his lips.
“Can I show you something?”
She nodded, hand still in hand, and he lead her out the door, out to the quad, and to a parking lot that was out of the way, near a cliff, and thus never had students on the weekends. It was clear he was familiar with the route.
Her heart beat with an ambitious tempo, and when her bare feet hit the grass of the cliff, her soul started to soar as the wind rustled under her wings. It was like it knew her, and had missed her, and was ready to dance.
“Talia,” Theo turned to her, limned beautifully in the moonlight, like he was the night itself. “Let’s fly.” He started running towards the edge, and she did too, hands clenched around each other’s wrists, afraid of letting go.
As one, they leapt into the stars.
It was like she had always known how to fly. Her wings, huge and iridescent and catching every glimmer of starlight, caught her before she could descend.
Talia executed a hard pull, whooping as she reached for the heavens above.
Theo whooped back, matching her joy.
They danced and caught each other and flipped and a million other things, exhilaration like never before chasing away all exhaustion, all cold, all worries.
Tonight, the pain was gone, the sky was forever, and she was everything she was meant to be.
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Here (Part Two)
Summary - Azriel stays by his mate's side, not knowing his family is rallying behind him to find out who attempting to kill his mate
Warnings - Mostly Angst
A/N - Part of the Ocean Eyes Series. I posted this as a sequel of Part One, which got insanely reactions! I am so glad you guys liked Part One and I hope you like Part Two!
Part Three Found Here
"What's the plan, Rhys?"
"I'm focusing more on my cousin's health and her life in the balance than dealing with her attacker."
"That's not where my head is,"
"Enlighten me then, Cassian,"
Cassian rolled his shoulders and eyed his High Lord as Rhsyand was perched at his desk in his office, the sun setting over the rolling hills outside the River House, and the cooler air was blown onto the office with ease. Cassian leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and his head reeling with questions and scenarios that he wanted to figure out immediately. But Rhysand was remaining calm, too calm for the Illyrian Army Commander's liking. He considered the wounded Illryian who was asleep upstairs, his friend's mate, his family. Someone tried to hurt his family and take away his family, and Cassian was fuming from the inside out.
But he was also a changed Illyrian, just as Rhysand and Azriel were. They were all fathers now: Rhsyand with Nyx, Azriel with Alec, and Cassian with his daughter Rose. His daughter, sweet and yet fiery Rose was a splitting image of his mother but had his infectious and playful heart. They all had offspring to protect and think about, no more rash decisions and acting out on a limb. The children had to come first, and Cassian was not willing to do anything that would bring his family harm. Azriel never did that himself, yet that led to Alec almost being killed as a toddler and Azriel's mate now in a bed upstairs hanging between life and death. Nesta would never let Cassian do anything like that, not just for Rose but for Nesta too.
Cassian was the one who found you first, sprawled on the forest floor bleeding from your wing and the arrow still hanging out of your wing. You both were out in the outline border of Velaris, Cassian getting a hunch that there were rogue beings there making their way across the border into Velaris territory. You on the other hand were meeting with some of the farmers and shopkeepers that lived in the cottages there to check on them and talk business in contributing to the Community Center.
Maybe it was fate that he was there and come enough to hear your scream out, but he knew your scream far too well from knowing you since you both were younglings. He flew towards the wail you let out, his heart hitting against his chest far too hard and thinking it was a trick of the mind.
Everything slowed down for him as he gathered you in his arms, you were out cold and the poison already working in your blood. He had to act quickly, time was of the essence, and your time was about to be snuffed out if he didn't get you help in time.
"The marks on the arrow," Cassian stated, reflecting on the arrow that was piercing your wing and sicking out so harshly that it sickened him to rethink it again, "We need to know where they came from so we get a hunch as to who did this,"
"I already have a big hunch, and I got in contact with the very High Lord that I'm thinking," Rhysand hummed, his cooldemeanor was hiding the anger he had. Cassian raised a brow at him as Rhsyand rang his thumb over his fingers back and forth, a tactic he would use when he was thinking deeply, "High Lord Beron has been notified and is coming tonight,"
"What?" Cassian asked in shock, standing up stiffly and no longer leaning against the wall.
"He knows the utmost importance of this since it does involve my cousin…my fucking family," Rhsyand said the last part in a low tone, not a growl but close enough, "We are going to meet at the Townhouse since I know both yourself and Nesta would rather not have the High Lord of Autumn Court in your home,"
Cassian snorted, then gave him a questioning look, "Does Elaine and Lucien know what happened?"
"Feyre reached out and told them to stay at their home here in Velaris for the time being. In fact, I don't want any of the Inner Circle going anywhere outside of Velaris until this is resolved once and for all. We either stay in our homes or at The House of Wind until I say so," Rhysand explained as his violet eyes looked out the window to see the last images of the sun still in the sky before it hid into the horizon.
"Is that an order?" Cassian asked, Rhsyand's eyes shot back to his Commander. Cassian, though tamer than he used to be when he was younger, was still reckless at heart at times. Something inside of him wanted him to find whoever did this and bring them pain. You were family to him, meeting him through Rhsyand when he was a boy and considered him a brother of yours. His rational side was teetering to be pushed aside, and he was fine with it.
"I don't want another member of my family hurt, Cass. I consider you family, long before you became my brother-in-law. You need to think of your wife and daughter and that they need you," Rhysand explained to Cassian, seeing Cassian's eyes soften from the mention of Nesta and Rose, "We need to be smart about this, not reckless. I want you with me when we meet with High Lord Beron,"
Cassian hummed, knowing that Rhsyand was right when it came to being reckless. He then gestured his head over to the doors that lead out of the office, "What about Azriel?"
"I don't want him anywhere else but with his wife, she's his priority now. And besides, I would rather not leave Azriel alone in the room with High Lord Beron. That's if Beron, or Autumn Court for that matter, did have something to do with this. He is not in the right frame of mind to be anywhere else,"
Cassian knew he was right about that too. The rage Azriel must be feeling at this moment, not knowing who in factharmed and attempted to kill his mate, must have been explosive. Cassian himself has been Azriel in such a way before, the anger that would fester deep down and be unlashed by either his shadows or his Truth Tellers. Cassian and strength behind him, but Azriel had something deeper.
Something more menacing.
"Alec is also staying here until his mother is well again, though he still doesn't know what precisely happened," Rhsyand explained as he got up from his chair and walked around the desk to stand near Cassian with his arms folded in front of him, "I don't want Alec anywhere else but here, he's my nephew and he needs to be protected now more than ever. We all do, but epically him: someone is hunting his mother and father, and I won't let him become an orphan under my roof,"
"None of us want that, Rhys," Cassian reasoned with Rhsyand, "He's secure and protected here with you and Feyre, and he's safe with his father, the safest he’ll ever be,”
"Which is why we need to be smart. For now, let's just focus on this meeting with Beron and making sure my cousin is comfortable and safe while she heals and come back to full health," Rhsyand stated, then pausing as he gave Cassian a more cornered look, "How is Alec and Azriel now?"
"Alec's okay, he just misses his mother. As for Azriel…it's hard for him," Cassian confessed. Rhysand hummed and rubbed his eyes, already thinking of the next steps that were to come. The meeting tonight would be far too important, life-changing, and yet his cousin was still in the back of his mind and her health was his main concern.
All he could do now was hold onto his Inner Circle, his family, so close in hopes they wouldn't slip away.
"Alright, buddy. Time for bed, okay?"
"Ok, daddy,"
Azriel softly smiled as he watched his son hop into the massive bed he was going to sleep in, the guest room that wasacross from where you were still sleeping and still healing. He left the door slightly open, being able to see you from where he was in Alec's guest room as Alec was settling into his bed.
Alec was only told that his mother was sick, severely sick, and he was not able to see her. Of course, it confused him at first, not understanding that he wasn't able to see his own mother since he had seen her sick before, but he knew better than to question his father. Seeing Azriel looking worn down and defeated made Alec worry all the more.
But Feyre was a step ahead, making sure he was well fed at dinnertime and kept him busy with his cousin Nyx until it was time for him to go to bed. Still, his mother was in the back of his mind, wondering what was it that made his mother so sick. He missed his mother, hugging her and hearing her voice telling him goodnight. Azriel tried his best to be present with Alec, but his son caught onto something that was hidden from him.
Perhaps a trait he inherited from his father.
"Alec, I know this is different from what we're used to," Azriel explained to Alec, who was watching his father with his wide blue eyes as he was snuggled under the soft sheets of the bed, "But you are being such a trooper for going with the flow of it all. I promise you that things are going to go back to normal soon, okay? As soon as momma is all better, we'll go back to our house and things will be back to the way they were,"
"Is it going to be forever?" Alec asked tentatively as he searched his father's tired eyes. Azriel felt a twinge of pain that his son was still kept in the dark, so speak, when it came to what truly happened to his mother. The last thing Azriel ever wanted to do was to lie to his son like this, to have that trust broken at any moment.
"No, not forever, baby," He reassured Alec as he pushed the inky black hair out of his son's blue eyes, "This is not forever, I swear to you. You believe me?"
"Yes, Daddy," Alec replied, Azriel smiled at his son and leaned over to kiss the top of his head. He was about to leave his son to sleep, and as Azriel eased himself up from the bed, Alec spoke up again in a gentler tone. So gentle, that it sounded like the curtains were swaying in his room from the night breeze.
"Daddy, is momma gonna be okay?"
Azriel could have cried then, seeing his son watch him for an answer. Azriel never wanted this for his family, the fear of losing someone he loved and another person he loved was filled with fear and worry. Alec was only four years old, far too young for something like this to happen in his life. Nothing could prepare him for this: consoling his son and hoping that his wife would pull through.
Alec needed his mother, Azriel knew that deep down. There was no greater bond than Alec's bond with his mother, it was thick and filled with so much happiness and love. Inwardly, Azriel wanted that himself with his mother, and he did have that in the blink of a moment when he was young. To see his mate give that same love to his son was beyond rewarding.
Now his son, looking at his father with worry in his young eyes, was asking about his mother.
"Yeah…yeah she's gonna be okay," he reassured Alec. He had to give Alec hope, the hope that his mother would be herself again. Although he had very little hope, he would at least give some of that hope to his son. He leaned down and kissed his son one more time, "Get some sleep, okay? I'm gonna check on momma and come back to you, I love you,"
"I love you too, Daddy," Alec replied, then curled into the bed under the sheets as Azriel moved away. He felt like he needed to be in two places at once: with Alec and with you. Although you were sleeping and till healing, Alec needed you and needed your warmth. Azriel wished he could change it all, make you all better so you can hold your son. Yet as he watched Alec fall asleep, facing the window with a look of peace on his face, Azriel could breathe a bit easier.
He kept the door into the guest room open slightly, mostly in case Alec needed him as he walked silently across the hall into the room where you were in. Still asleep, facing the empty chair where Azriel was perched for the past few hours, the moon shining into your room to cast a bluish light along your still wounded wings. Azriel could even see the moonlight shine through the thin membrane of your wings, showing the veins and the damage from the Ash Arrow.
But the way you were snuggled against the body pillow, head against the soft pillow, and your long hair draped over your shoulder, you looked more peaceful than you did earlier when Azriel found you. Azriel sat down on the chair, taking in a long breath as he held his hands together in his lap and watched you. Your deep breathing, the softness that was now slowly coming back along your skin and your cheeks thanks to the medicine from Madja.
"I might be talking to myself here, but I hope you can hear me," Azriel said aloud in the room, his voice sounding a bit raw as he watched you in earnest, "But I need you to pull through and get better. I….I don't think I can do this without you. I won't have the strength to, no matter how hard I'll have to try. I need you, our son needs you. He needs his momma, and I…I don't wanna do this alone and without you."
He might have sounded silly since he was talking alone in the room, but then again he needed to get it off his chest. Bottling up all his fear that he's had for the past few hours, would have suffocated him. The only person he was ever safe to unload his feelings, to be open and exposed therapeutically, was the one who was asleep in front of him and unable to be fully present with him.
"I'm sorry I failed you and couldn't protect you," Azriel admitted, sinking a bit in his chair as he was fiddling with his fingers, Clutching them together tightly and refusing to let them go, "I promised you when we were mated that I would protect you, keep you safe and never let anything happen to you. I broke that promise, and I know I can never repair that,"
He thought that if you were awake, you would reprimand him for being hard on himself. Azriel could even hear it clearly in his mind, your kind voice scolding him for being immensely harsh towards himself. You've always helped him out of his moods and insecurities, including what he does and how he takes care of others around him. Azriel thought back to a talk that he had with you when Alec was still a young infant, he was voicing his worry about taking care of his family and if he was doing enough.
He needed you to bring him back to the light, and not have him hide in the darkness.
Azriel reached out and took your hands in his own, feeling the coolness of your skin and yet how soft they were. Healways loved your soft hands, a soothing balm against his calloused and scarred skin. He leaned down and kissed the back of your hand, his lips along your skin had you shift in your sleep and hum.
"Sleep and come back to me, come back to us. Your son and I need you more than anything, so I need you to get your strength and open those eyes for me when you're ready. I'm here when you wake up, I promise. I love you more than life itself, more than my own life, and if I could trade mine for yours then I would in a heartbeat. Just gather your strength, we'll be here waiting for you," Azriel proclaimed to you and your sleeping form. He did speak the truth: he would trade his life for yours since at times he felt you had more good for the world than he ever did.
Azriel cannot picture a world without you, without any of your beautiful traits or your tender heart.
Azriel heard it, almost like a whisper, as he was dead asleep with Alec cradled in his arms in the spare guest room. His arms were tucked around his son, who was snuggled against his father and snoring softly. It was so soft, like a breeze, which didn't disturb the Spymaster at first.
But it was also distinct, not the sound of the curtains fluttering next to the bed or the very soft ticking of the clock on the fireplace mantle. This was a shutter of a whisper, and it was calling his name.
Azriel…..Azriel….
His shadows hummed, licking along Azriel's arms as he stirred a bit in his sleep. Alec was thankfully a deep sleeper and stayed in slumber, even though his father was feeling the sensation not just with his shadows but in his mind. It was a familiar voice, so familiar that maybe it was a trick of the mind as Azriel took in a long breath. But he heard it again, a pinch louder and his name being called out as if the source was so far away. Fighting through a fog that was thick and almost recognizable.
Azriel…Azriel…
Azriel was still asleep, but it was becoming more alert as the voice was getting a bit louder now in his mind. It was no longer a dream, it was something else, something familiar to him. So familiar like coming through the front door of the small little cottage where he lived, or flying amongst the cloud with his wings stretched. Even the familiar touch of your lips against his own made him feel safe.
But he finally heard it, and his eyes shot open on high alert.
Azriel….I'm here…
It was you, your voice, speaking through the bond.
You were awake.
To Be Continued….
A/N - Part three?!?! Let me know if you want a part three!
Tagging - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams @prettylittlewrites @fxckmiup @sizzlingstarlightsky @iluvyewman-blog @masbt1218 @a-courtof-azriel @homeslices @zanzie @topaz125
#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x reader#azriel x you#Azriel#acotar fanfiction#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#a court of mist and fury#a court of silver flames#azriel spymaster#azriel x oc#azriel fanfic#azriel acotar#fanfiction#writing#daddyazriel#daddyazrielandalec#azriel x female reader#acomar#acowar
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tachycardia pt.2 - cl16
pairing: doctor!charles leclerc x nurse!reader (alpha/omega au)
summary: in which you don't always get along with the arrogant alpha doctor
warnings: LIGHT a/b/o dynamics, angst??, none really (yet!), badly translated French (didn't really put french in this), NOT PROOFREAD
word count: 1.5k
author's note: hi!!!!!! did you miss me??? I missed all of you! sorry this is SO short but I wanted to post something in honor of reaching 2,000 FOLLOWERS!!! I love u all sm and I'm sorry this is kinda shit. I've been in a really bad writing funk recently but I'm hoping to get out of it. don’t forget to talk to me and don’t be shy I love to hear from all of you!!!! I will try to get the ball rolling on this series as soon as I can. I just kinda started it without even knowing where I wanted it to go so I'm kinda just winging it as I write with whatever comes to mind. if you have anything you would like to see happen in this series PLEASE don’t be shy and let me know I love to hear your thoughts and ideas!!!! xoxo
taglist: @amalialeclerc @barcelonaloverf1life @charizznorizz @magicpancake @zabwlky1999
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
AS YOU SIT across from your younger sister in the cozy confines of the café adjacent to the bustling hospital, you can’t help but marvel at the enigmatic workings of her mind.
“Is it really like that? Sex in the on-call rooms?” The question bursts forth accompanied by a hearty laugh, your body leaning forward in laughter.
“How many times do I have to tell you no?” You retort, meeting her gaze with an air of firmness amidst the playful banter.
“What about in the locker room?” She presses further, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“No, and stop indulging in such ludicrous fantasies.” You respond, bringing your cup of coffee to your mouth, you pause before taking a sip. “You know well enough that I don’t engage in relationships with doctors.” A fleeting sense of contentment washes over you with the warmth of the coffee.
She emits a deep sigh, deeply annoyed. “Are any of them at least cute?”
You feel your stomach churn as the image of Doctor Leclerc floods your thoughts. He’s far more than just attractive. You hesitate for a beat, staring at her wide, expectant eyes. “Yes.”
Her eyes light up almost instantly. “Who?”
“I forget. I don’t really know him.” Liar.
“What does he look like?”
“Brown hair. Very green eyes.” Your fingers twiddle with the napkin on the table, feigning disinterest.
She gives you a skeptical look as if she can read your mind and tell you’re lying. But she doesn’t push further. “When do you have to be back?”
You briefly glance at the time on the screen of your phone, “Shit.” Rising abruptly, you shove the chair back with a jolt, shooting your sister an apologetic glance. “I have to go. I’ll see you at mom’s this weekend?”
You’re already pushing the front door of the café open by the time you hear your sister half-shout, “Yes!”
-
You burst into your patient’s room, breaths coming in ragged gasps, cheeks flushed with exertion. You say a silent prayer to whatever higher power that he wasn’t here yet.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
Did you mention that this particular patient has a knack for hitting on you?
Your heart skips a beat, and if it weren’t for the already flushed hue of your cheeks, you’re certain the blush creeping up on your neck would be glaringly obvious.
“Mr.,” You pause to glance at the chart to double-check his name, “Mr. Hart, how are you feeling today?”
“Meilleur, now that you’re here.” Better. You curl your lips upward into a soft smile, jokingly rolling your eyes at his antics.
“Surely you’re sick of seeing my face, Mr. Hart.” You quip, reaching for a stool beside his bed while simultaneously checking his IV bags. “Today’s the day I think!”
Mr. Hart has been in the hospital for over a week, recovering from a surgery for a atrial septal defect.
“Jamais.” Never. He insists, his head sinking back against the pillow as his gaze follows your every movement. “I’m so close to being able to ask you out properly.”
In that moment, a new scent permeates the air, distinct and alluring. Without even turning around, you sense his presence—the man who just breezed in behind you. Whether he heard the exchange or not, you weren’t sure, but the subtle shift in the atmosphere is palpable regardless.
“Mr. Hart,” His voice, deep and honeyed, washes over you, almost too sweet to be genuine. “Still stirring up trouble for our lovely nurses?” Despite the playful tone, you can sense an undercurrent of something morecalculated beneath his words. His presence radiates warmth, his tall figure looming beside you, close enough to make your skin prickle with awareness.
“No,” Mr. Hart grins. “Just her.”
Doctor Leclerc’s smile remains fixed, but you catch the subtle clench of his jaw as you turn your head to meet his gaze. “Just stopping by to let you know that we might need to keep you for another night.”
The news catches you off guard; you were under the impression that Mr. Hart would be discharged by the end of the day. As if he could sense the questions brewing in your mind, Doctor Leclerc continues, his voice reassuring. “Just a precautionary measure. I assure you; we’ll have you cleared to leave bright and early tomorrow morning.”
Mr. Hart hums nonchalantly, as if the prospect of another night in the hospital doesn’t bother him in the slightest. His attention remains fixated on you as you inspect the sutures on his chest, his fingertips grazing against your gloved hand with a deliberate touch. “Can’t complain as long as she’s the one checking on me.”
You let out a small laugh, but don’t say anything, as you stand up and remove the gloves to toss them in the waste bin nearby.
“Mr. Hart,” Doctor Leclerc’s voice is unamused now. “You would be wise to refrain your hands from touching her again. Next time I won’t ask so politely.”
-
Pressed against a wall while in the presence of Doctor Leclerc seems to be a common occurrence nowadays. His tall frame blocking any potential onlookers from seeing who he had cornered.
“Dis-moi,” Tell me. His voice is low, lethal. “Do you flirt with patients often, hm?”
“What is your problem?” You quip, your brows furrowed as you crane your neck back to look him in the eyes.
“My problem?” He scoffs, leaning closer to your face, his lips thinned in annoyance. “My problem is that I have to stand there and watch a patient flirt with you,” He clicks his tongue in frustration, turning his head to look away for a brief moment. Giving you a moment, to take in the sharpness of his jawline, and the unshaven scruff that shadows it. “And you…” His voice trailed off.
“And I, what?” You pulled your lips into a slight frown.
“You smell like that,” His hands wavered around your body, in an exasperated manner.
“Smell like what?”
As he shook his head in disbelief, a mixture of frustration and something deeper etched acoss his features. The disbelief seemed to stem from his inability to fathom that you were completely unaware of something soevident to him. It was that scent, the sweet floral scent that always accompanied you. It drove him mad sometimes. How it was almost the only thing he could focus on sometimes.
With a disapproving click of his tongue, he took a deliberate step back, as if needed physical distance to collect his thoughts.
Ignoring your inquiry, his gaze softened, the intensity in his eyes giving way to a gentler expression as they locked on yours.
Caught off guard by the swift change in his demeanor, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of whiplash from the abrupt shift.
“I wouldn’t say often,” you began, punctuating the order with a slight shrug. “It’s all harmless.”
His response was solemn, his voice carrying a weight of protectiveness that left no room for misinterpretation. “I don’t want them to put their hands on you ever again,” he declared firmly. “If you ever have issues, you can come to me.”
His words resonated with a gravity that made it clear he meant every syllable, his stance unwavering in its determination to shield you from harm.
Your throat tightened as you swallowed, acutely aware of the intensity in his gaze tracing the delicate curve of your neck.
“Moving forward, I will be the one to check on Mr. Hart,” he announced, his voice carrying a note of authority softened by a touch of concern.
With a deliberate motion, he extended his arm, his fingers brushing against your skin as he gently tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear.
The proximity of his touch sent a rush of warmth to your cheeks, the tenderness in his gesture catching you off guard, yet somehow soothing in its unexpectedness. Dr. Leclerc’s presence seemed to envelop you whenever he was near. As if nothing else in the world existed no matter the premise of the discussion, including the constant bickering you two always seemed to do.
“Will you be at James’ retirement party?” The question slipped from your lips before you could fully weigh its significance. Yet, deep down, you knew the answer matters more to you than you cared to admit. You found yourself wanting him to be there, though the reasons remained elusive, even to yourself.
Yes, he was an ass to you most of the time. But, for some reason you couldn’t really fathom, he was always in the forefront of your mind.
His head tilted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. Though he would never openly confess, the idea of attending hadn’t crossed his mind until that moment. However, if there was even the slightest chance that you would be there, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse.
“Yes,” he replied simply, the single word carrying more weight than its brevity suggested.
You nodded slowly, as if processing his response required a deeper level of understanding. “See you there?” You ventured, the question hanging in the air, pregnant with unspoken implications.
He nodded, pulling his lips into the faintest smirk.
“See you there, mon lapin.”
#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc#charles leclerc smut#f1 imagines#f1 x reader#charles leclerc angst#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fic#f1 imagine
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i present to you. . .sneakylink! ex girlfriend! robin who’s lovesick and routinely visits you after her tours. if anyone seen the previous ex girlfriend posts, this is a series, ill make a master list on later :) cw: transfem! reader, grinding, top!robin, lovesick! robin, vaginal penetration, petnames, praises, creampie, brief mention of handjob, riding, dry humping
↳ wild nights!
“ mmph, we can’t keep doing this robin. .” you pant, fingernails digging into the leather surface of the couch from robin’s hips rhythmically rocking back and forth against your bulge. she hums, her glossy lips kisses at your cheekbone and down to the corner of your lips. you’ve said those words many times before—this wasn’t new at all. even when her hands are all over you, exploring your pretty body which she already has engraved in her memory—even when she’s whispering honeyed words into your reddened ear as she’s stroking your cock—even when she’s making you feel like you’re heaven-sent and made just for her; you still say those words like your existence together is forbidden?
robin retracts away, just enough for her half-lidded jade eyes to gaze into yours. “ why would you want us to stop, my angel? “ she asks softly, cradling your face in her hands. you lick your lips and her gaze flicks between them and your eyes for a brief moment. “ i. . .just don’t want to get in the way of your dreams, that’s mainly the reason why i. .— “ her lips suddenly seeks yours in a passionate kiss that leaves a twinge of hotness in your belly.
she fastens her pace, grinding down on your clothed length, ripping a moan from you in which she gladly swallows. “ you’re apart of my dreams. “ she mutters in between burning kisses, “ that’s why i come back to you—in hopes of being apart of yours too, sweetheart. “ don’t you understand? you’re like her salvation, a singular warm light she wants to bask in after spending her time in thousands of spotlights.
“ r-robinn. . “ you whine, experiencing a familiar tension in your belly. “ if you keep doing that, i-i might. .mm. .” robin smiles against your lips, her hands snakes down to slip under your shirt to massage your flexed tummy. you can feel her wetness through her ruined panties, making the current wet patch on your pajamas form bigger. “ if you want to release, you can now, sweetness. “
just like that, you did—tipping your head back against the head of the couch, your hips buckles into the halovian woman’s clothed cunt as you creamed in your pajamas. robin coos, whispering sweet nothings against your sweaty skin, planting down sweet kisses that softens your bones. “ such a good girl for me. “ her hand slips pasts the waistband of your pajamas and underwear and smooths her palm over your weeping length as it twitches. she pulls her hand back, her fingers stained with your essence and brings them to her pink lips.
you gulp, watching her sinfully lick her fingers clean, still holding intimate eye contact with you as she does so. the moonlight glow seeps through the closed blinds, illuminating the living room in stripes. despite the glistening halo sitting over her head, wings fluttering about, and areas of her creamy skin beautifully highlighted by the limited moonlight, she looks like the opposite of how she presents herself in the spotlight and to others.
not long after, the mix of you and robin’s clothes are discarded on the floor. she’s on your lap, riding you like she has something to prove. her feathers tickles your skin as she peppers your neck with butterfly kisses. robin’s hands grips your shoulders, hot breath fanning against your skin as her lips part; wet muscle licking at a particular fading love mark. “ i’ll never leave you, “ she breathes and bites her bottom lip to hold back a high-pitch moan threatening to erupt from her chest. “ not when my heart beats for you.”robin’s words leaves your head spinning, your heart dizzy from the genuine devotion and love dripping from her angelic tongue.
your arms tighten around her naked frame, pushing her close to you until your chests are flushed against each other; bodies molding into one. the swollen tip of your cock rubs against the spongy patch of robin’s walls, causing her to squeeze around you. “so tight.”you whimpered, your legs turning jelly from robin’s consistent bounces. her lips desperately finds yours and she tilts her head to deepen the kiss. your chest heaves against hers as her tongue slithers in your mouth, exploring your wet cavern.
your senses is full of robin, your taste, sound, sight, touch—smell. her soft perfume mixed with sweat permeates your nose. you can feel her slick trickle down your inner thighs, gushing pussy greedily swallowing up your cock. her soft moans and mewls muffled by your lips brews a tightness within you. “ ‘gonna cum again. . “ you moaned and robin’s inner thighs firmly presses against either sides of your own thighs.
“ i-i feel it coming too. .” robin pants, pleasure flowing through her veins like a fast flowing river. after a few thrusts of your hips, they stutter irregularly and ropes of cum spills into robin. you held onto her for dear life, squeezing your eyes shut as you release in her. robin follows right after, cumming on your cock, letting out a prolonged sigh of satisfaction and pleasure. a moment of silence settles into the soft atmosphere, only the sounds of ragged breathing can be heard.
“ i love you. .“ the renowned singer breathlessly whispers in your ear for the umpteenth time and kisses your earlobe. you stay silent, mentally gathering yourself to say back those four words that’s weighing on your tongue. her palm rests right above your breast where your beating heart is sitting behind its boney cage. robin sighs dreamily, burying her face into the crook of your neck.
“ i love you too. “ you finally whisper back with genuine affection and robin’s wings flutters with joy as she presses a fond smile against your heated skin.
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Adam with a reader who’s very witty and quick with comebacks?
just some silly pre-conference banter! | Adam x Reader
headcanon/drabble — how would Adam be like with a reader who is sharp-witted?
content & warnings — NSFW, fem reader, fem pronouns, fingering & cunnilingus, sexual act happening in a public place (workplace).
a/n — this takes place in some sort of office-setting, i dont know what goes on up there in heaven but i like to think its similar to what we've seen so far in hell, so i'm sure conferences aren't unheard of. i wasn't sure what format this idea should take, so it begins like a headcanon list but finishes up with a drabble. it's also rushed and i struggled with it a lot but. we ball!!!!!!
Adam considers himself to be a pretty funny guy, always dishing out 'sick burns' on others, but his pride gets hurt really easily. When it comes to a reader who can keep up with him in comebacks; he's definitely impressed by it, thinks it's hot as fuck, but he'd never openly admit it because it also a ignites a strong sense of competition in him.
The tension between the two of you is uncomfortably palpable, how you twist him through every conversation and leave him to stammer like a fool just when he thinks he's bested you. Watching him seethe is endlessly entertaining to you, it brings you satisfaction, finding your own sense of pride in seeing that bad boy persona crack little by little.
The two of you will be going back-and-forth every time Sera calls for a conference, taking up half of the allotted time with your back-and-forths, and everyone graced with the luck to have been summoned there just wishes the two of you would fuck already so they didn't have to keep sitting through this.
But he secretly likes it, your flippancy towards his status and identity as First Man, how you're always so quick to shut down his sleazy remarks with an air of arrogance, going toe-to-toe with his own. Cute.
Until one day, you finally give into him– He somehow manages to get you to fuck him, and for days after, his bragging around the office is incessant: "[Name] cries when she cums!", "Her orgasm face is just the cutest fuckin' thing, I mean could you imagine? Wait, actually don't, don't picture it–"
You start to get fed up, not only annoyed at his oversharing and his ceaseless bragging about things that simply weren't true, but because you hadn't even gotten to cum from the experience. Instead of confronting him, you had a plan in place that would get you what you wanted, so you instead opted to ignore the hushed whisperings around you all day.
...Until a little later, when you're in an empty conference room together, and he's sitting across the table from you. Licking the lid of his yogurt container with a smug look. Mimicking the disappointingly tepid treatment he'd given to you the night before.
"Should we... address what happened, [Name]?" He asks smugly, like it was a topic of business, leaning forward onto the table with his hands clasped together.
"No, I'm good."
"Noooo?" Adam's voice is as sugary as the extra pumps of syrup he'd overloaded his coffee with this morning in the breakroom. You'd seen that diabetes-inducing horror as it happened. "Why not? I feel like it's something we should talk about."
"Why?" You ask simply. "It happened, and that's it."
That gets him a little annoyed. Confused, too; why weren't you playing along?
"Didn't mean a thing to you, then?"
"Nah."
"Oh please, [Name]," he scoffs. He’s getting offended at the thought now, his wings giving a small flap in indignance. He’s supposed to be the aloof one! You should be begging for it to happen again.
"Don't fuckin' play. My dick gave you the best fuck you've ever had and now you don’t know how to feel."
“The best? At putting me to sleep, maybe. I did get a good nap out of it afterward, so.”
To Adam, the only thing better than your negative attention is your positive attention, and the only thing worse than that is your indifference. He hates feeling desperate, but you bring him to that shameful peak.
“You were on my dick like you had a fuckin' crush,” Adam continues to ramble on, trying to find a weak spot. “Fucking me probably meant a lot to you, huh?”
"I hump my pillow before bed and it means as much."
"Your pillow can't plow you like I do."
"No, but at least it actually gets me to cum."
Adam’s dick twitches in his pants. You know exactly what you're doing. Those words, delivered with that cruel flippancy he loves and hates so much, are precisely tailored-- All to drive him over the edge.
“Then maybe that was just a trial run,” He says after a long, fervent pause. "Maybe you need another taste."
You smirk a little, but only offer more disdain.
"No thanks, I've had enough to decide I'm no longer interested."
"Oh come on," He finally says. He's desperate at another chance now, he needs the validation of making you cum for his pride to be restored.
"Just give me one more shot?"
And so there you are, bottoms down, legs spread, Adam's fingers inside you, sitting on the edge of the table where a meeting is supposed to happen in about 25 minutes.
You're sopping wet. He drags a finger over your cunt before spreading it. "You're so cute, all blushing and shit. Makes me crazy hard."
"Your vocabulary is fucking terrible. Stop talking."
"You like it, though." He grins, teasingly lifting his fingers away from your aching cunt to show you your own wetness. You let out a small whine at the absence. "You sure you want me to stop?"
"Shut up, I said," You grab him by his hair and shove his mouth where you want it, aggressive and impatient. "-and start eating."
Normally Adam is not one to take demands like that. But in this position-- looking up at your stern face from between your legs--he obeys. He kisses at your cunt over and over, sweet little pecks like a first crush. The sensation makes your core tighten around nothing. Adam was not one to take his time; he was teasing you like this on purpose. You weren't having it.
And so pettily, you decide to say: "You can do better than that."
So naively, he does, he takes your dare and you're practically gushing all over the conference table by the time he gets in there and starts eating for real. Desperately suckling your clit between those smirking lips, that mouth that never fucking shuts up.
You cum with a satisfied sigh, as if you'd just had a good stretch rather than an orgasm on his face. He looks up at you expectantly, lips glistening with your aftertaste. Eyes wide and eager, waiting for the praise that is to come, only for you to lean in and whisper:
"Look who has a crush now."
a/n — pls forgive me for taking so long to answer this! i don't think it's exactly what you're looking for but i tried. it's more of an "adam with a reader who he has a sexually-charged, competitive work relationship with" type of deal. you just like to play with him and you know exactly how to make him desperate
#adam headcanons#hazbin hotel headcanons#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel x reader#adam x reader#adam hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel adam#adam smut
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♯┆spacesoldier/spacescientist!ellie: who won't shut up about the hookup between you and her from the night before, and longs to do it again, fully. .ᐟ ★
literally don't question the randomness of this blurb. i run on revelations and sudden visions, and this one was just too hot to let rot. i had to pause a whole request for this thing. and it's a bit rushed, i'll like expand on it some other time i just wanted to return to this trope. anyways, I digress— space scientist ellie, nine month voyage through the cosmos, hookups.. tipsy hookups.
it'd be morningtime in the wake of certain events preceding that memories would slowly begin to prick through the surface— owing to ellie's imperfect subtlety. hills and hills of planetary research, prototype weaponry, instructions on how to properly utilize said prototypes, and coffee-stained reports, dawdled through like the process couldn't get any more boring than it presently is; stress, procrastination, a murk in the thick of your thoughts— literal brainrot. then, the main office zone gate slides open, that little airy whir pulls through your ears, and the person that walks through foments sudden recollection to the promotion party last night. ellie. a new recruit under your stations wing— and the immodest girl who was under your hood many hours ago.
ellie is a damnable pesterer of love; portending that if you've ever been intimate with her, she'll be stuck to you like an idiot's tongue adheres to icicles in wintertime. and tipsy her definitely was after you two had sex: pleading for you to stay a minute longer to cuddle, pressing every work-related praise hot into your nape, mentioning how good you taste out of the blue, so on and so forth. yet now that it is a bright and advantageous morning, and considering that she woke up to the scent of you woven through each fiber of her clothes— she remembers, and she reminds.
ellie's got her legs crossed, arms crossed, leaned against your desk's edge, small butt of hers rudely stamping one of your precious folders; the usual stance she does when you're plying your trade, and she prying for attention. "seriously. thursday, you and me, conference room number twenty-seven, i'll bring wine and fetch dinner from the canteen— please?" an earnest ask, you can sense it in her tone; evenly pitched and soft, softer when she pleads, as always, albeit that the spaceship you dwell in has no actual restaurant so dating environments are centered around some good old D.I.Y and empty meeting rooms. her foot winds out slightly to tap the spokes of your office chair, nudging the focus you so dearly casted to the papers below you, to her instead. which regrettably works; tossing an eye roll as you spin, "dates and recreational dinners don't fit into anyone's schedule here, you know that." it aches to claim that, and aches harder to see her take that hit of an that answer. watching her head drop and her mouth tug into a contemplative shape that wanted to battle it out with excuses, loopholes, promises— but it forms into a grin rather, and decides to be impish. "had time for last night though, didn't we? a great time, actually, n' i wanna see where that.." her voice sinks into the pit of her throat— deep and reserved — and her thumbs start to do that cute fiddly thing at her waist, rolling over each other while the rest of her fingers intwine and overlap, "—takes us?" modifying her words into a delicate, unsure question. a toothy, one-sided smile and sad puppy brows, ugh you could just pinch her cheeks. but of course, she spices up the deal, "hopefully.. back into my room, if my flirting skills aren't total shit." annoyingly rambling as a way to showcase how gravely you've impacted her mind the last twelve or so hours. so grave, you're the only thing her motivation could cling upon to urge her limbs and weasel her sluggish weight out of bed earlier. "please?"
that please chisels a smile into your lips, unfortunately-fortunate, "god, you're so bad, williams." poking fun at her and coasting the wheeled chair away with the back of your knees straightening, rising from your seat with documents in-hand, and agreeance in-mind; written ripe on your lifted cheeks.
"was i?" said indirectly, a cocky implication twisting her cheeks to the same level as yours. it took you— let's say, two, three, awkward seconds of squinting before you understood her crafty-ass joke that took your words a completely different, and lewd direction. stupidly faced too: cocking her brow with the scar slicing through, and cocking one side of her head upwards too, overall just cocky. now you could just squeeze her annoying face until it exploded. figuratively.
"shut up."
"okay."
MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . READ THIS . PALESTINE MP . DOC VER
#ellie williams#⤹𓍢ִ໋aestras asks#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams smut#ellie tlou#ellie x reader#ellie williams x fem!reader#ellie williams fic#lesbian#sapphic#ellie williams blurb#ellie williams drabble#ellie smut#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie the last of us#ellie x fem reader#ellie williams x masc!reader#tlou ellie#the last of us#tlou2
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can i req a little drabble with nyx? i imagine nyx to be a bit like feyre but also being on the more broody side. perhaps where reader gets the “meeting the family” dinner with the IC and shes like a ball pf sunshine, complete opposite to nyx?
ambushes and invitations
Nyx x Reader
Summary: Told it's finally time, Nyx takes you to meet his family.
Warnings: none
A/N: thank you for the request! I love grumpy sunshine so much.
“I’m excited,” you insisted - almost bouncing on your toes as you walked together.
“You really shouldn’t be,” he grumbled, hand shooting out to grab yours. He pulled you in close - a bit too abruptly, and you stumped over your feet, a laugh echoing from your chest as you slammed into him, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you steady. Nyx’s mouth indented at one corner, eyes shining as he glanced down at you. Pausing, he licked his thumb, brushing against your jawline, a tinge of blue appearing on his finger. A spot of paint from earlier. Letting go of your waist, he kept his hold on your hand and your feet carried you down the path, footsteps light on the cobblestone. You’d insisted on walking - giving you time to wrap your mind around what the evening would look like.
He’d ambushed you at your home, where you were in the middle of trying to paint a gift, and ‘invited’ you to a family dinner. You couldn’t refuse, and the limited timeframe gave you less time for a ball of nerves to build. It wasn’t wholly effective. Truth be told, you were somewhat nervous. His family was intimidating to say the least, but you’d grown up around what you considered were intimidating people, and this was another dinner - at least you told yourself that.
The next time you tripped - a loose rock, not your fault, Nyx covered it - bringing your arm above your head and spinning you.
“Are you nervous?” You asked, as you drew closer to your destination.
“Me?” His eyes rolled. “Never, darling.”
Your eyes lit up in amusement. “Never? Because I remember very clearly the one time -”
A pinch to your side cut off your words, and you realized you were within hearing distance of two winged figures. You’d been distracted looking up at Nyx, and a light blush covered your cheeks.
“Don’t stop on our accord,” one of the males - Cassian, you recognized, said.
You grinned. “Once, we were-”
Nyx’s hand clapped over your mouth, muffling your words.
Both were friendly, even though you had the keen awareness your every move and expression was being monitored. That’s fine by you, there was nothing you felt the need to hide.
They all introduced themselves, but you already knew exactly who they were. Rhys, your High Lord insisted you call him Rhys, same with your High Lady. Nyx spoke of them so freely, a few complaints littered here and there, but actually meeting them as his parents was different. Sure, you’d seen both of them in Velaris at one point or another, but this was a completely different context. Maybe in your mind you’d created a different persona for them - Nyx’s parents. Either way, the two versions from your mind had no choice but to meld now.
“What do you do for work?” Feyre asked. This was a subject you could speak on for ages.
“I’m a teacher, for toddlers.” The spot of glitter on your wrist caught the light at the perfect time.
“Do you like it?” Her head tilted.
“I absolutely love it,” you replied and lulled into an easy conversation, some of your nerves fading.
Back and forth, questions bounced across the table - about nearly every subject, and you fielded all of them the best you could. Nyx seemed to glare at anyone who asked things a bit too personal or touchy.
-
“How’d someone like you end up with this broody asshole?” His uncle didn’t even wince as Nyx kicked him in the shin. Hopefully hard enough to leave a bruise.
“That’s what I want to know,” Mor said - glancing between the two of you.
Nyx cut in before you could answer. “Easy, I won her over.”
“Easy?” You raised your brows, amusement in your eyes.
“Not exactly.”
Your eyes seemed to say; good save.
Gods, he remembers the weeks he spent ‘chasing’ you, and trying to get the point across that he liked you as more than a friend. You were a ball of pure light and joy, bright enough to make him seem like a dark and stormy cloud, and he loved you for it. His little ball of sunshine, although everyone else was stealing your attention right now.
You’d been seeing each other for a few months when his parents finally put their foot down and insisted on meeting you. Everything was a bit last minute, and he felt a tad guilty for ‘inviting’ you with less than an hour, but it was a casual affair, and you were in good spirits about it - nearly exploding out of your skin the entire way here.
So far, it seemed to be going well. You were sitting directly next to Mor, and the two of you were making easy conversation.
Cassian caught his eye, an amused look on his face.
What is it? Nyx slipped into his mind.
She’s nice. Talkative. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Seems like she’s good for you.
Nyx brought himself back into the present, aware of your conversation starting to dwindle next to him. He found you looking at him with a curious expression, but a tinge of worry in your eyes, grabbing your hand under the table, he gave you what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze.
“Do you have any Solstice plans?” His mother asked, a gleam in her eyes. That’s all it took for him to know she was absolutely smitten with you, but he still fought a wince at her direct question - he knew you didn’t, and if this went well he’d already planned on inviting you.
“I don’t,” your words were softer than normal - maybe a bit unsure. Nyx squeezed your hand again, hoping he wasn’t crushing your fingers.
“Perfect,” she clapped her hands together. “Join us.”
“If you want to,” he added, meeting your eyes.
Really?
She wouldn’t have offered otherwise.
The mental equivalent of an eye roll came through before you beamed at her and agreed.
-
Nyx flew you home, refusing to let you walk on your own and in the dark. You chose not to argue with him this time. Besides, you liked seeing the city from above, all of the glittering lights, and especially in his arms.
“You,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, closing your door behind him with his foot.
“Me?”
One arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you in close. “You are wonderful.”
Your words were muffled, face pressed against him, “where’s this coming from?”
He loosened his arms just enough for you to look up at him. “You survived them.”
Lips turning up at the corners, you poked his chest. “Survived?”
“You know what I mean,” he sighed.
“Sure,” you tucked yourself back into him.
“First, I would love to have you there,” he prefaced, hand running down your hair - and your heart jumped. “But you don’t have to come to Solstice if you don’t want to, or if it’s too soon.”
“That might be the most words I’ve heard you say in a row.”
He pinched your side before continuing, “I know she put you on the spot.”
You slid one hand up to rest on his chest - just above his thundering heart. “I would love,” you repeated his words, “to be there.”
“Thank the gods,” he breathed, pulling you close again.
#acotar next gen#next gen acotar#nyx archeron x reader#nyx x reader#nyx archeron x y/n#nyx x y/n#acotar drabble#acotar imagine
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Accident
Hardersson x Child!Reader
Part of The Big Adventures Universe
Summary: You have a little accident in the middle of the night
You're a big girl.
You know this. Momma knows this. Morsa know this.
But you're still quite little.
Which is why you immediately burst into tears when you wake up and feel wetness. You know immediately what's happened and it makes you sob.
You'd been doing so well but sometimes in your sleep it just happens.
You feel smaller and littler than you know you are and awkwardly waddle to your slightly open door. The bathroom light is on so you pick your way through the hall easily. You push your way into the adult room and stand by Momma.
She's silent in sleep and you tap her. She stirs but doesn't wake up until you speak, voice trembling and body shaking in a mix of embarrassment and cold. "Momma. Momma."
Her eyes flutter open. "Princesse?"
"Had an accident."
Her features soften as she sits up, flicking on the bedside light. Morsa makes a noise at the sudden light in the room and blinks awake too.
Momma takes in your trembling form and your soiled pyjamas and gets out of bed. She kneels in front of you despite still being half asleep. She wipes away the tears that you hadn't even noticed were falling from your eyes.
"It's okay, princesse," She says," It's just a little accident."
"I-I didn' mean to," You insisted," Momma! Morsa! I'm sorry!"
"I know, I know. That's why it's an accident." Momma keeps speaking to you, soothing you as Morsa leaves the bed to strip and change your sheets. "Come on, let's get you in the bath."
The bath runs as she strips you of your pyjamas. Morsa comes in to take the dirty clothes without prompting and she rains kisses on your hair before she disappears to put on a load of laundry.
Your bath is warm and Momma's careful to wash all of your accident off your legs before she tries to distract you by dropping bath toys in. You ignore them, remaining morose.
You can hear Morsa shuffling around in the bedroom, changing out your ruined Scooby Doo sheets with ones that you don't like as much - maybe you Paw Patrol or Bob the Builder ones.
Either way, you hope that you haven't completely ruined your Scooby sheets. They're your absolute favourites and thinking about them being unusable causes a fresh wave of tears to spill down your cheeks.
Momma makes a sympathetic noise as she hoists you up out of the bath and dries you off.
"I can take over," Morsa says from the door, holding a new set of pyjamas," Head on back to bed, Pernille. You're exhausted."
Momma looks exhausted. She's got dark rings under her eyes so she presses a kiss to your wet cheeks. "I love you," She says firmly," And it was just an accident. Accidents like these mean nothing."
Morsa takes her place and she repeats the same sentiments. She's got one of your most favourite fluffy onesies in her hand - the one Jessie got you that makes you look like a dragon, with an attached tail, wings and face.
You whimper and push it away. "No," You whimper out," Gonna ruin it."
"You're not going to ruin it," Morsa promises," It was just an accident. You're not going to ruin these."
"Will," You insist," Like my Scooby sheets."
Morsa brings you into her embrace, her hand coming to cradle the back of your head. She rocks back and forth and the constant repetition calms you.
"Your Scooby sheets aren't ruined," She promises you," They're just getting washed. They'll be nice and clean tomorrow morning and we'll throw them in the dryer before we leave for practice so when we come home, they're nice and warm."
You nod and let her put you in your onesie. She flips up the hood over your eyes as she lifts you with ease.
She doesn't take you back to your room though. She walks back to her and Momma's room. Your protests fall on deaf ears and you're soon snuggled into the Bed Bed.
Momma is next to you, practically asleep again but she manages to catch you around the waist and tuck you into her body. Her steady puffs above your head relax you and through your sleepy eyes, Morsa smiles at you both.
Her hand brushes your hair out of your face and your eyes finally slump closed when she presses a kiss to the very tip of your nose.
#woso x reader#hardersson x reader#pernille harder x reader#pernille harder#magdalena eriksson x reader#magdalena eriksson#woso community#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso
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Can’t Bring Myself to Hate You - Part 11
Pairing: Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sister!Reader
A/N: I restarted this about four times—re-wrote the last few sentences for about half an hour. Also I was so excited to write Eris again but he wouldn’t fit in this chapter 😔
Warnings: sexual assault, Bas and his bloody knuckles, Azriel
Word Count: 5,830
-Part 10- -Part 12-
——————————————————————————————————————————————
Azriel is going to die.
He’s going to die, and it will be at your hand.
Silence echoes through your mind, the world filled with dark blues and dismal greys—the colours of rainclouds and heavy fog over a midnight river. While the air is warm, ice prickles the layer beneath your skin, seemingly caught in your clothes, captured in your flesh. The perpetual cold of the mortal lands perhaps never fully having left the marrow of your bones.
At the table you sit still, trying to silence your mind to focus on the task at hand. You don’t want to be thinking about that right now. Not today.
Brow pulls together, lips twisting down as the bone of your thumb presses to the line between your eyes, pushing away the pressure.
Ease out a breath, shoulders slumping, muscles draining away as the door is closed on the world. Locked cozily within the dark quiet of the open kitchen.
The last time you’d sat here feels like months ago, presents stacked upon the table with a pretty cake to tuck into. Now there’s nothing to offer but a meagre cupcake, a lone candle put sadly into the spongy head you hadn’t even paid for—it had been a sample, someone giving out free little things so none of the food would go to waste.
It isn’t even decorated, aside from the thin waxy stick the House had offered up.
Lower lip curls, scowling with hot eyes at the small cake.
You stare for a long while, vision blurring every so often before it’s cleared away by a disciplinary blink. Loathing carved between your ribs, twisting and slicing, but never ending. A muscle flickers in your jaw, before finally shifting into motion, sitting straighter.
This night isn’t about you, and you’ll be damned if you make it so.
Breathing deeply, the wooden figurine is placed on the table, palm damp and cool without it’s warmth in your hand. The maiden looks on at the small cupcake, disappointed, pretty flowers drooping in elegant fingers. The skirts of are caught frozen in motion, the hem lifting from her ankles, the graceful sweep of hair being pulled gently toward the candle, as if the breeze is luring her in.
Eyes stare at the sight, and you have to sit back in your chair. Observing the scene, how small and meagre it is for something that deserves much more.
When the world blurs this time, you don’t blink it away, letting it fill and swell. Break over the edge of picked-thin lashes.
Slowly, you lean forward, picking up the light box of matches, taking one out, and striking it against the abrasive card. Fire flares before dimming, wisps of smoke curling from the glowing light, putting a pleasant scent into the room as you lower it to the candle, spreading the scant glow. With a single flick of your hand, the flame is put out, sending up a poor last signal with its diminishment, glowing weakly, before finally extinguishing.
Inky blues and grey-blacks dim the already sparse light, encroaching on the small patch of light like wolves circling a small, run-down hut. Waiting for the first sign of dilapidation before pouncing, sharp canines sinking into the soft, fleshy centre.
Your head hangs, forearms braced on to table either side the little show. Fingers curl, pressing into the now-soft skin, callouses from the days of wood-chopping and frostbite softened by a single dip into freezing cold water. Murky and depthless.
Bringing forth irrevocable change.
————
Azriel’s wings stretch out over his chair, the muscles rippling, shoulders working free of the tension before standing from his desk.
For what ever reason, the House has decided he should get his own food for tonight, evening long since passed with the days becoming shorter and shorter. Light waning, the dark sidling closer the deeper into autumn time flows. Like clockwork, shadows skitter off down the hallway, floating along floorboards and dipping beneath rugs, settling at the darkened threshold of her door. No light warms the gap, and habitually they listen out for the soft sighs of breathing, forgetting the enchantment that’s been placed on the room.
They hurry back, curling around his ear, delivering the information seamlessly as he makes his way silently down the dim halls. He can see perfectly fine in the night—there’d be no point to lighting a candle.
Strain remains tight in his shoulders, having finished reading through Cass’ letter as well as the dozens of other reports monitoring various changes and shifts in courts. Other things to deal with, to allocate time and resources to, seamlessly shifting his network of spies to target and attend to the more prominent catches in his web.
He doubts he’ll be able to catch even a wink tonight, a tight pulse in his chest warning him of sleep.
————
The breath exhales softly, staring at the lone flame, flickering dimly in the overbearing darkness, and you can’t help but think of your youngest sister. The wane light in the wintry forrest, battered by icy winds and freezing frosts.
Calming the beat of your heart, you press your palms together, leaning forward so the knuckle of your thumbs slot above the bridge of your nose. Head bowing toward the candle, eyes sliding shut, keeping the pressure at bay.
“Happy birthday, dad,” you whisper.
Already the edges of your mouth tremble, but you try to stay firm, sucking in a shaky breath. Blurred memories of the war begin seeping back in, the damp smell of blood and sickness, mixed with sweat and leather. Slowly lower your hands, palms pressing flat against the table as you look at the flickering light. The miniature wood carving bought in memory of his carpentry.
“I miss you,” you murmur, voice wobbling in the silence. “It’s been difficult since you’ve gone. Difficult for a while now.” Throat rolls, shifting in your seat, spine straightening. “Feyre’s doing well though. As much as I can tell, anyway. She’s had a baby too, did you know? I don’t know if you’re still able to watch us anymore, so sorry if you’re all caught up—I just thought might as well be on the safe side, and I don’t know what else to talk about besides them.”
Tongue darts out to wet your lips, breathing softly, calming the emotion in your chest. “He’s called Nyx, and he looks just like them.” The flame blurs, light dripping out in dots through the room, and you quickly wipe your eyes. “She’s been busy with him—I think she’s been taking him out on walks through Velaris every now and again when he wakes up early, though sometimes the others take on some tasks. I know Mor likes having him around, and even Amren has a soft spot for him already.” The corners of your mouth tug down, head lowering as you stare into the flame. “I think she’s doing well, after all this time. She can stand on her feet.”
Night-kissed memories float up through the fog, of crunching snow and steaming blood, dribbling out of a doe carcass.
“Elain’s good too,” you manage, attention flicking to the wooden maiden. “I think her and Lucien have begun getting along better, or at least not as awkward as they once were. I went with her to visit him a while back—to the old human lands, and—” You fumble, tripping over your words. “Do you know it all worked out?” You ask quietly. “I must’ve told you last year, but just in case I didn’t: we won. The war, I mean.” Vision blurs again, blinking away the dampness.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, dad,” you whisper, lip trembling. “I know it’s morbid, and maybe if I had been there, I would have wished I wasn’t, but Nesta was, and Feyre was there too, and Elain got to… They got to see you again.” The first tear splashes onto the wooden grain, and you hastily wipe it away, fearing it might stain somehow. “I wish I’d gotten to see you again before you went away,” you mumble, swallowing thickly. “I miss you a lot. And they’re all doing well, and getting better, and…”
Take in a deep breath, lungs stuttering, hauling in quivering pulls of air. Dip your head slightly.
“They’re doing well,” you whisper, nodding to yourself. Repeating it in your mind.
“I think you’d be happy with them.”
————
Shadows swirl at his wings, shifting as they dip ahead into the kitchen, skittering back with their message. She’s in there, sat at the table.
Azriel pauses in the hallway, debating the merits of bumping into her at such a late hour. He remembers how poorly his last late-night interaction went, and is frankly disinclined to revisit the memory on any level. The softness of Elain’s skin still registered in some chamber of his mind, laying dusty and untouched for some time, unable to bring himself to quite take it back out just yet.
His stomach grumbles quietly, and he sets a hand on his lower abdomen, rubbing absently as he thinks. Wonders why she’s decided to come out of her room tonight instead of keeping to her space—why tonight of all nights the House is throwing him under the wagon. But he’s a full-grown male, he can handle one short interaction, even if it’s with her. It’ll be a good chance to check on how she’s doing physically in person, too, having been putting off that task for a while, satisfied with the imaginary rendering his shadows bring him every now and then.
Azriel continues down the hall, noting the dim flicker of light from the doorway, warming the blue darkness to a sparse orange, a clear outline of colour in the deep shadow and he wonders what she’s doing. A few quiet steps bring him to the threshold, steadying himself for her longing eyes and the dipped shoulders.
He rounds the frame but halts on the threshold, shadows instinctively slinking across his skin, pressing silently back into the darkness of her peripherals.
She’s crumpled over, sobbing silently, shoulders trembling as deep breaths heave and shudder from her lungs. Her features protectively hidden by the sleeves of her cardigan, pressed tight to her features as quiet, wet cries gasp from her lips, trembling in the dim light of her single candle.
He watches from the edge of the room, observing silently, caught on the force of despair. How it’s shaking her frame, wracking it like a paper lantern in a storm, tossed and battered until it’s soaked and dissolving beneath the downpour. Flame reflects in the golden pool beneath her on the table, rippling with hot droplets as they drip heavily, splashing between the grains, growing steadily larger.
The tips of his fingers tingle, but he resists stepping forward—with everything that’s between the two of them he doubts it would help.
The familiar scent of gardenias floats over to him, stronger than usual, and hazel eyes trace the bare skin of her hands.
They’re horrifically dry, despite the intensity of the scent that always accompanies her nowadays, skin peeling around her nails, cracked and flakey like freshly baked pastry, rough patches of rawness peeking through, sore and worn from the interior of her gloves.
To a less observant pair of eyes, it may have appeared as a case of frostbite, or treatable dryness, but he recognises that formation—the slight warp of burning flesh.
Her palms press to gleaming cheeks, as if the wetness will absorb into her hands, curing the desiccated expanse, soaking up until they’re perfect again, without a flaw or crack to be found. The bones in his hands ache dully, pains blooming beneath his own warped flesh, swollen and melted in parts, scarred and misshapen. Deformed.
She starts mumbling under her breaths, sobs becoming heavier, lungs gasping as air is harshly sucked in, stumbling and stuttering in her shuddering chest. She’s apologising. Over and over, murmured sorries and desperate pleas. Repeating over and over how sorry she is as the water ripples beneath her, lips tugged down, brows knotted in sheer self-loathing. So concentrated it knocks him in his chest.
He should turn away—he can wait a few hours easily, allow her to vacate and recover at her own pace—but he’s kept at the edge, watching silently, wreathed in shadow saved for the flame-lit hazel of his eyes. Observing such a pure display of sorrow and wretchedness, a sense of foreign familiarity ghosting within his chest. Like finding a new path to an exact location—one he hadn’t known existed until then, completing a fraction of the unknown map.
Azriel takes in her curled up form, hunched over the candle, back curved as she sobs into damp wool, familiarising the sight. His expression tightens ever so slightly, brows pulling in, edges of his mouth twisting down, working into the beginnings of a frown.
With one last scan, he turns silently, retuning her the privacy she’s unaware has been disturbed.
————
You ease out a heavy sigh, but your shoulders remain tense.
Half a cupcake remains on the table, the house setting a glass dome over its top.
You peer down at the symbol numbly, eyes sore and swollen. Aching from intense use. That’s all the emotion you can manage for the night—a drought forming in the desiccated innards of your soul. Tears have been bled dry to a state of numbness, skin tingling absently. Breathing mindlessly. Wandering listlessly.
————
You land three light taps to the door, the warm lamp far above you illuminating the small inlet of the entrance, a wooden frame either side to hold the vines as they’ve reached and crawled over the years, the tiny pale flowers putting out a lovely fragrance—like lilies, or sweet peas. Long moments pass, then the door is quietly opening, one dark hand resting casually at the height of it, the other against its frame.
“Hey,” he greets, the edges of his mouth relaxing a little.
“Hi,” you reply, realising how scratchy your voice is, raw from that long hour. Hastily clear your throat, shifting in the entrance. “Would you— I mean, are you busy tonight?” You ask, wringing your fingers slightly, stopping when gold flicks down to mark the action.
Bas releases the door, opening it a little wider, standing straighter and clearing his throat. “Nope,” he says, “something on your mind?” Instantly the lone candle flickers in your head, the sponginess of the small cupcake, and you blink away the prickling pressure. “Yes,” you answer quietly. “I just— I don’t want to talk about it,” you settle on, returning your gaze to his. Anxiety beginning to melt away—you can be something other than fine around him. Lower lip wobbles with the thought, but you hasten to push the welling emotion away. Your eyes would hate you if you started crying again.
A deep breath eases into your lungs, then blown out heavily.
“I had a rough evening,” you say vaguely, “and I’m feeling pretty awful at the moment, so I was wondering if you’d like to go out for a bit.”
He watches silently from the warm inside of his home, the smell of rosemary and thyme cozily wrapping around you, almost enough to make you wish for a night in, but you’d rather not feel for a little bit. “You do that a lot, y’know?” He says at last, stepping back to allow you inside. You follow quietly, looking up at him with a furrowed brow, keeping to the wall. “Do what?” You ask, wondering if he’d like you to take your shoes off since it looks like you might be coming further in.
“Phrase questions weirdly,” he laughs faintly, the deep sound breathing a small spark back into your blood. “Like that one, ‘I was wondering if you’d like to out for a bit.’ I was wondering if you’d like to go out for a bit?” He repeats, raising the inflection at the end. “You know you can ask me stuff, yeah?”
You feel the faint tug of a smile on your lips, amusement crossing your features. “I know,” you reply, “maybe I just didn’t feel like saying it as a question.” Bas rolls his golden eyes, mouth copying yours, forming a slight smile, before shaking his head and turning. “Let me grab something. Anywhere you want to go?” He calls from over a broad shoulder, reaching for a warmer piece to put over his indoor clothes.
Shake your head, keeping to the edge of the room, wary of the clean floor. “I just want to be outside tonight,” you say quietly. “I don’t…the inside just…” You purse your lips in a grimace, and he nods. “I get you.”
Another well of emotion builds in your chest, but again you push it away.
Tongue licks out over your lips, shifting on your feet, making an effort to brighten your demeanour. “What’s going on with you at the moment? There was that thing you wanted to talk about last time…?” When you’d had a small crying session in his arms. Whenever the memory inserts itself into your head, you’re torn between embarrassment and jealousy. Embarrassment at breaking down over such a small thing after having kept it together for so long, jealousy over how easily that comes to other people. That small, sad part of yourself wanting more, but as usual, she’s gently pushed aside.
Bas sucks in a slow breath, guiding you to the door. “Yeah, about that…” The two of you step outside into the crisp night air, and you wrap your scarf closer, huddling beneath the warmth. Even after all this time, the warmth in the chillier months is something you can’t help but find your stress in.
“So…” you encourage when he goes quiet, linking his arm with yours. “What did you want to say?” But he shakes his head. “To be honest, I don’t want to talk about it right now,” he answers with forced lightness. Brow dips—is it something to do with his dad?
“You okay?” You ask softly, stepping a little closer as you make the walk down his small front garden, the gate creaking open before he shuts it behind you. “Fine,” he replies, then relents. “A bit tense.”
You try to come to a stop, but he gives a gentle tug on your arm, telling you to continue on. He doesn’t want to talk about it.
With a heavy swallow, you direct your attention forward, hand pressing into the warm muscle of his arm, firmly linked together. “You’ll tell me when it’s been enough, right?” You ask quietly, forcing yourself not to peer at him through your peripherals. He has an uncanny sense for when people are watching him.
He’s quiet, continuing on with the walk, but you don’t make the mistake of trying to rush him. Sometimes he just takes a bit.
“Sure,” he says at last, and this time you do look at him, a slight glint of amusement in your eyes to soften the stern set of your mouth. “Sebastian,” you warn, and he cringes at your side. “Fine, yeah, I’ll say something,” he relents, waving his free hand, not quite meeting your eye. You manage a quiet laugh, before you both settle back into silence, quietly paying attention to the swish of the breeze, skirting around the subjects at hand.
The question’s on the tip of your tongue, eyes watching him from the side, but then he gives and almost undetectable squeeze to your arm. So light you’d think you might have imagined it. Had the two of you been human, you would have dismissed it. But fae bodies have an entire new level of awareness to them, impossibly sensitive on depthless levels. Utterly overwhelming at first. Still getting a handle on some of the more intense senses.
As it is, you take it as his answer. The promise he won’t voice.
So you continue on into the night, neither of you quite fully present in the moment to be doing something like this. But bad decisions happen, and mistakes are made. Without them, life would be boring, and dull. You’d never progress.
————
Skin buzzes pleasantly, a wide smile on your lips as you lean into Bas’ side, greedily taking in his warmth, mourning already forgotten and pushed to the side.
You stumble along, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as laughter rings between you, fuel for the rest of the night, replenishing the emptied wells of emotion like he’s pouring molten gold straight into your blood.
He’d been tense at first—nothing outright, or obvious in any sense of the word, but those small tells were there. Patterns one can only pick up on after spending pure, concentrated months with someone. And his behaviour had been erratic. The tension in his jaw when a female had bumped into him, spinning clumsily on her feet to apologise. The pause before he’d forgiven her, and continued on with his night. Then he’d refused to even take a sip of your drink, politely but firmly refusing your attempts to get him to loosen up.
You’d tried plying him with all sorts of methods, from joking and humour, to offering up some of your own little pieces, to asking directly what was going on inside his head that night. He’d diverted the first two, and snapped at you to mind your own business at the last one, which—to be fair—he was entitled to do. You know you wouldn’t appreciate one of your sisters trying to worm their way back into your life if you wanted your peace.
Eventually, you’d gotten up, telling him you’d pop outside for some fresh air—the night sky is always beautiful here—but he hadn’t wanted to come with you, simply sipping quietly on the non-alcoholic drink before him. Was it something to do with whatever he’d wanted to speak with you about?
While you’re out on the balcony, you explore the possibilities of what he might want to say. Though, you decide to stop once you notice the thoughts steadily becoming worse and worse, pausing the process before you cause yourself a public meltdown—you can theorise once you get back to the House.
But with thought of the House comes thoughts of that dangerous piece of parchment on your desk. The open challenge left for you, daring you to bring out some imagined claws. Outrageous and bold and brazen. You can’t even begin to imagine what those sorts of characteristics would imply to your personality. Do you even possess the capacity to become anything other than the flimsy spec you are? To make something out of the damage, to make it worth an amount, so it’s anything but weight, and trauma, and baggage.
Running gloved fingers over your face, you raise from the balcony, turning and heading back in. You don’t know why you didn’t try and turn back sooner when he obviously wasn’t in the right state to be coming out, certainly not surrounded by alcohol.
(I wanted to, so I did.)
(I disregarded him because I am more important.)
When you re-enter the fairly crowded room, you edge your way along the walls until you can spot him, a glass of water in his hand containing a slice of lemon and what looks like a leaf of mint. He’s speaking with a female, his expression softer than usual, and you wonder if you should perhaps complete another lap of the room if he’s managing to relax. But then another male sidles up, his arm wrapping around her waist, and she’s promptly whisked away onto the floor. Golden eyes follow the two, watching as they disappear into the night.
“Hey,” you greet, pretending to be a little more fatigued than you truthfully are. Bas inclines his head in reply, taking a deep drink of the liquid, draining the glass before returning it to the wooden surface of the bar. “Ready?” He asks, standing promptly. A smile softens your features as you nod—wondering how long he’s been wanting to leave but sticking it out. He nods again, the warm piece he’d grabbed before setting out into the night getting put over his free arm as his hand grazes the space between your shoulder blades.
You both cross over the threshold of the establishment, and the cold air smacks you right in the face, draining the warmth in an instant. Bas chuckles lowly, tossing you the outer layer, immune to the cold.
You peer at him hesitantly, but he just rolls his eyes. “You’re cold, and I’m offering you a solution,” he says pointedly. “So take it, yeah?” You give in, sliding your arms into the too-large sleeves, wrapping it around your bodice, relieved to keep out the raw bite of oncoming winter. “Thanks,” you murmur, allowing hesitant comfort to settle over your skin as his arm pulls you out in into the street.
The two of you walk mostly in silence, content to mull over your own issues in peace, the frenetic pulse of others’ lives colliding off one another.
A scream pierces out of nowhere, so shrill that you startle, Bas flinching at your side, heart pounding in your chest. Laughter echoes in response.
Both of you peer toward the sound, but all you find is a female getting to her wobbly feet, surrounded by mirth filled faces offering her various hands up, pulling her back to standing, arms linking close with one another.
You exhale heavily, but beside you Bas is tense, muscle coiled tight beneath the warm heat of his skin. Lightly, you pull on his arm, encouraging him to start moving again because it’s cold outside, and he’s given you his only good piece of protection against the piercing autumn chill. He moves along stiffly, tension tightening across his muscles, hands tucked tight in the deep pockets of his trousers.
Silently, you peer at him from the corner of your eye, noting the rigid posture, the downward tip of his brows, the tension in his jaw, as if biting down.
“Hey,” you say softly, laying your hand on his shoulder, bringing him out from whatever space he’d dropped into. Golden eyes flick to you, more distant than usual, and you realise just how lucky it was that male scooped up the female when he did—he’s clearly needing to be alone right now, in the peace and solitude of his own home.
You put a smile across your features, “scary, huh?”
A beat passes and he’s silent, just watching you.
Then muscle slopes, tension rushing from his body all at once, a heavy sigh deflating from his chest, breath billowing out into the biting cold air. He nods, a smile beginning to form on his lips.
A hand drops to your ass, squeezing with interest before smacking the plump flesh hard.
Your entire body goes rigid, legs shaking as you spin around, clutching tight to Bas’ arm to keep upright, shock disturbing your stomach as your eyes lock with pale green.
“Nice ass,” the male compliments lowly, a slight grin on his lips as he prowls forward, arms wrapping around your waist, large hands settling lightly over your rear, cupping with interest. Instantly you raise your arms to your body, itches breaking out across your skin, pulse kicking up to the beat of a war drum as disgust slithers beneath your flesh. “What—? Get off—”
“Get the hell off her.”
Bas turns on a dime, the tension breaking across his features as his lip pulls back from gleaming white teeth, golden eyes glittering with rage as he shoves one hand into the male’s chest, sending him stumbling back a few paces, storm clouds thundering in his expression.
Hands tremble at your front, managing a few hastened steps away, putting shaky stumbles between you and the male, breath shuddering in and out of your lungs as you stare with wide eyes. Bas takes a step forward, bringing his hands up out of his pockets to remove the rings adorning his deft fingers, golden bands sliding up over his knuckles. “looking for trouble?” He growls, eyes trained on the opposing male with deepening anger.
The male raises his open palms, a faint smile on his sober features, pale green eyes gleaming beneath the hot faelights. “Calm down man. I didn’t know she was yours,” he drawls smoothly, “no harm done.”
“No harm done?” Bas hisses, baring his teeth, an icy gleam in his normally perfectly golden gaze. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself,” he growls lowly, keeping you behind him.
The smile fades from the male’s face, shifting into a slight scowl. “Calm the fuck down,” he snaps irritably, “it was a fucking compliment.” Bas snarls, discipline slipping as he stalks forward, fist snatching up the collar of the male’s shirt, a faint tearing sound ripping through the crisp night air. Pale green eyes widen, before deepening with anger. “What the fuck is your problem? It was a fucking—”
“You fucking try and put your hands on her again,” he mutters softly, the threat reverberating deep in his chest, staring down the opposition. “Fucking try, and see what happens.”
The male’s brows dip, lip curling back as he bares his teeth, shoving the flats of his palms into Bas’ chest, roughly pushing him off. “You tore my shirt,” he mutters, staring down at the ripped fabric. Pale green clashes with raging gold, darkening to viridian. The male looks down his nose, folding his arms over his chest. “You better fucking pay for that, prick.”
“For what? The improvement?” Bas barks, hands tightening into fists at his sides, aching for a brawl, that familiar itch practically scrawled across his features. Obvious to no one but you. Silvery moonlight catches his knuckles, something sharp and glassy catching your eye.
The male’s features twist with anger, then they’re slamming into one another, light gleaming; darkness swirling.
They’re using magic.
Your pulse kicks up, hands trembling as you stare helplessly, unable to formulate any thoughts. Before you power crackles in the air, tension buzzing like static before lightening strikes, and you need to intervene. But it’s as though you’ve been vanished from the world, physical form obliterated so you’re simply a wisp of conscious being tossed brutally in stormy seas. Just your skin tingling disgustingly in the shape of large palm prints. Like he’s scorched your body, so everyone can see the patch where—
The male pins Bas to the floor, his large body thudding heavily against the stone of the cobbles, one hand splaying across his shoulder, fist pulled back tight as a bowstring, shooting down, landing blow after blow to the centre of his face, blood spraying across a vicious smile. Gold practically glows in the hot light, enjoying it, letting the rage and fury build until it’s ready to combust, to be released on the male atop him. He’s savouring it, and you can do nothing but watch as he slides back into that state of self-destruction. Right before your eyes.
A wet crunch sounds, cartilage shattering, blood coating sharp, gleaming teeth that are bared in a feral grin.
“The fuck are you smiling at?” The male laughs, pulling Bas up by the collar, arm wound back, preparing to strike hard now the bone has caved. “You fucking brain dead?” He shouts, ears wincing from the volume, green eyes lit with bloody glee, liquid dripping from his knuckles.
Nausea roils in your stomach, recognising the path Bas has settled on. The numb violence in his gaze having your throat closing up. Before you can help it, your feet are moving on their own, pushing through the shadows as you run over to the two, arms wrapping tight around the male’s elbow, locking it in place as you lean to counter-weight his strength. “Bas…” you manage, voice cracking, muscles turning weak with adrenaline, legs like custard as they tremble.
Pale green eyes snap to yours, his head whipping round, only to grow wide, features illuminated with a blinding glow. Skin burns, from your fingertips to your stomach to your heels—you’re burning. The male flinches beneath your hold, and you hardly have enough time to catch yourself before he’s jerked his arm out of your grip, the point of his elbow hitting the dip of your collar bones, just shy of your throat. Heart stumbles in your chest before a force shoves at your spine, pushing you back into the male as the knuckles of his hand smack across your cheek, sending you tumbling to the ground. Copper bursts on your tongue as you flip over, scrambling to get up but trembling so violently you might be sick.
The male raises his curled fist again, preparing to strike, but Bas has gotten his dose of violence, bloodlust glittering in blazing gold eyes as lips pull apart into a wet, bloody smile. You catch the gleam of ice coating his knuckles, cold moonlight glinting across frozen, jagged edges before he flips the male over, fist connecting with his jaw, a bloody tooth being spat out onto the cobbles. Then the furore begins, fist pulling back over and over as he keeps the male choked to the ground, sawtoothed ice smashing against skin and bone with every wet crunch.
You try to call out, but your lips are too numb to move, skin stinging with piercing pain. Dark red splatters on the cobbles, flecked through with tiny shards of ice as the crunching continues, getting wetter and softer with every hit. Like the heavy thump of raw meat upon a carving table.
Trembling, you move to get to your feet, fingertips itching with adrenaline, shaking with indecision. Bas is going to regret this, you know it. He’ll come out of that haze drowning in self-loathing for giving into the impulse after so long of numbing it. You can’t let him continue—stop him before he does serious damage to himself.
He’s been there for you, and you need to be there for him.
Breath eases into your lungs, skin itching deeper, the burning again raising as your fingertips tingle, trying to reach out for your power. The sting of the green light begins to manifest, aching in your stomach, head pounding, rising to the surface—
You’re hauled upright, turned around and directed away from the beat down, magic extinguished the second his scent wraps around you in a night-kissed breeze.
Azriel doesn’t say a thing, simply curves his wing round at your back, guiding you off into the night.
You don’t have the capacity for dread or fear at what he’ll say once you’re far enough away.
All you can think about is the quiet warmth of him at your side, steady and assured.
——————————————————————————————————————————————
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Baby blurb of reader and Eddie where reader sleeps with her teddy when she has anxiety and it’s all soft and fluffy lol. Yes I have just turned 20 and still sleep with my teddy and I am not ashamed 😤💖
i love him 😭 so much 😭
A hand on your forehead.
You blink awake. It takes you a second to realise what you're seeing. Eddie, your boyfriend, handsome and frowning across from you.
"Are you okay?" you whisper, voice thick with sleep.
"Me?" he asks. He turns his hand. His knuckles skip over your cheek, down to under your chin where he rubs a small line, back and forth. "You're sleeping with Mr. Bear?"
"Oh…" That's the soft weight on your chest.
Eddie kneels beside your bed. Where his right hand is soothing at your chin, the left strokes over Mr. Bear's worn tummy.
You feel instantly embarrassed, the kind of shame that makes your face white hot.
"Are you doing okay, sweet thing?" he asks. The sweet thing isn't strictly sincere. He says it with a smile, like he's hoping you'll laugh.
You try your best. "I'm okay."
"Yeah?"
His touch is so soft. Feather-light. The kiss of a butterfly's wing to your chin. His eyes are distracted by somewhere on your cheek and his mouth is still worried. Pulled down at the corners.
"Move over?" he asks eventually.
You nod obligingly and shuffle aside. Eddie shakes out of his jacket and climbs into bed next to you, your shoulders kissing, your eyes on the ceiling.
"You can tell me anything," he says. His voice is gruff like he's a little abashed to say it, but sincere.
You sigh. "I know."
Eddie hums before taking Mr. Bear into careful hands, waving one of Mr. Bear's small arms at you. "Do you tell him what's wrong?" he asks, holding your bear in front of his mouth.
"Sometimes."
Eddie brings Mr. Bear's mouth to his ear. "Oh," he says thoughtfully. "Gotcha."
You roll your eyes as Eddie sets the stuffie back over your chest, positioning him to be comfortable.
"What did he tell you?" you ask, curious.
Eddie glares at you theatrically. "Is nothing sacred?"
"He's my bear."
"And you won't award him any privacy? You cruel woman."
You huff, equally theatrical, and let your head loll back to the ceiling. Eddie cups your neck, his hand hot to your skin. He tilts your head towards him again very slowly.
You break character when he presses his nose to yours, laughing under your breath as he says, "Let me be your confidante, babe. I'm as good a listener as that dude and twice as cuddly."
"Twice," you laugh.
"I have better hair."
You reach out to stroke his dark curls. He really does.
#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader blurb#eddie munson blurb#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader#x reader
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i need some wriothesley pregnancy drabbles there's seriously not enough of those yet...
-> pregnancy
synopsis -> a rundown of your pregnancy with wriothesleys baby, and how supportive he is.
warnings -> pregnancy, mentions of crying and screaming, mentions of labor
w/c -> 968
wriothesley didn’t really remember the day you constantly started asking for hugs and cuddles. and the day he realized that cuddling you in the ways easiest to him are no longer an option. and, the day he knew that you wouldn’t be able to handle yourself without his help.
yes, you’re pregnant, but sometimes he wonders if you even understand that he’s the one working here! and because he’s working, he can’t give you what you want 24/7. you do understand that though, but you just can’t help it! your hormones have changed so much over the past few months that now you feel like a needy wreck who constantly needs her husband to be touching her in some way.
and on the other end, you feel like wriothesley doesn’t understand why you’re so needy. obviously, you can tell him why, but he won’t be able to relate. he’s a man, he can’t carry a child. and sometimes, you get mad at him for that, and so on.
but on the frequent occasions that he puts his work down for even just a few minutes to focus his attention onto you, you’re content. and he’s happy if you are.
whether it’s a long hug, snuggling into his side and resting your eyes on the couch, or cuddling him in bed, he’ll be up for it if he’s not necessarily doing anything. he doesn’t mind putting his work down for you, but it’s not possible to leave rather important matters alone just so he can satisfy his pregnant wife.
he knows you’re no longer able to get good sleep at night- he’s up with you through the majority of it. so, he just tries to cuddle you to at least make you feel a little better, considering he knows how much you want to just lay down, forget about the world around you, and breathe in his refreshing scent. it’s one of the only smells you can stand at this point.
and, he mostly welcomes you when you come over to his side of the desk, and try your hardest to sit yourself on the edge of it. to say you normally get whatever you want whenever you want it is an understatement.
when it was earlier on in your pregnancy, your clinginess seemed a lot easier to manage, he thinks. he’d just sit you down on his lap and rub your back. but later on, he can’t do that, making your neediness a little more challenging to relieve. he knows he’s going to have to take that work leave soon.
but, don’t fret, he’s fantastic at massages. whether it’s in the bathtub, before bed, or even in the middle of the night, where you wake him up with a pool of tears in your eyes. his back and neck massages are great, but his calf and foot massages are to die for.
once, you woke him up at around 2 in the morning. at that point, you could be considered heavily pregnant, nearing that 40 week mark, and in obvious discomfort on the daily. you woke up with a charley horse, and had no way of ridding the pain by yourself.
he’s used to you waking him up like this, so without opening his eyes, he rolled over and started massaging the soreness out of your leg. it felt absolutely heavenly, and lulled you into a shallow sleep. for now, at least, until you need to get up and use the restroom for the 80th time that night.
poor guy will be so nervous when he comes home from work and finds you bent over the counter, breathing in and out while swaying your hips back and forth. he knew it was labor, he knew he’d have to bring you to sigewinne so she can either send you up to the overworld or deliver your baby herself, and he knew that you two were going to be parents in the next few days.
he prays your labor is the most peaceful it can be, but he soon found that there is no such thing as an epidural in the medicinal part of the fortress. it was the closest place he could take you, and relatively one of the nicest. the whole medical wing besides the simple cots sigewinne has in her room was likely the nicest part of the fortress (besides your living quarters), with a nice, clean look and the pearly white floors and walls, and could be compared to a regular hospital.
and get this, the maternity wing was the nicest wing of the whole entire building. most people didn’t know about this secret hospital in the deepest parts of the fortress, where its mainly used for prisoners who came in pregnant and their sentence will end after their due date and surgical procedures by nurses hired on by sigewinne with the approval of wriothesley.
you were so glad that you two were immediately given the nicest room and the best nurses, who helped you as best as possible while you went through unmedicated labor. it was a grueling process, tears leaving even wriothesleys eyes every single time you screeched in pain while a particularly bad contraction hit your body like a semi truck. and considering how long it went on, your husband thought he’d pass out.
after a horrifying 34 hour labor, you were with your baby at last. at this point your legs were numb and you felt exhausted, taking a nice nap while your wriothesley held your newborn.
that day was one of the only times you’ve seen him cry in your whole life, and you wonder if he’s ready for your upcoming pregnancy announcement, nearly 3 years after the last one.
#genshin impact#genshin#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley#cw pregnancy
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— THE WAKE of the dragon ʾ ⋆
summary ; a request by anon.
“Would you please write a Daemon x niece!reader where Alicent attempted to attack her half-daughter like Episode 8 but the reader is pregnant with Daemon's third child?? I NEED protective, murderous Daemon in my life.”
pairing ; daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader
notes ; daemon is the man that i need in my life 😭 i cannot get over his short hair look. also, myrax is the name of your dragon. there’s no description for her, so feel free to make up your own! also unrevised,, oops.
funerals were a finicky thing.
when laena velaryon passed from childbirth, or rather the flame of her dragon-mount vhagar, the royal court had assembled on the velaryon’s ancestral seat of driftmark to pay tribute to the beautiful sister of laenor velaryon.
a towering castle surrounded by black water bay, driftmark was surely rivaling the volcanic mountain of dragonstone in terms of beauty. dragons soared across the sky, a plethora of beige, red, silver, and green wings dappled the sky. with a monstrous cry, vhagar was lurking within the mountains somewhere.
the procession was something that bordered mystic. tossing laena’s body that was enclosed in a stone casket carved out of her liking into the sea, never to be seen again. you supposed it was poetic, the velaryons were of the sea after all.
your two children, daenys and baelon, were doing their best to console their cousins, rhaena and baela. you smile fondly at them, the girls holding hands and baelon trying to make them laugh in attempts to raise their spirits. a sharp kick to your belly sends you leaning forward. your arm shoots out to find something to grasp on to and sure enough, you find the arm of your husband, daemon.
“he’s a fighter, isn’t he?” his voice asks, the tone low and cool enough to send a shiver down your spine. you wince and try to muster a smile despite the pain, but you shake your head.
“she is a fighter. i was thinking about the name visenya.”
“he will be named daerion,” the rogue prince counters, a sly smirk rising the corner of his lip. his eyes you curiously, eyes flickering back and forth between your eyes, your nose, and soon, he stops at your lips. he licks his own, before turning away and gazing at your children. you sigh in soft adoration, the action he did was enough to send the babe in your belly and stomach into flips.
it was no secret that daemon wanted another son; after the birth of prince baelon, named after his late nephew and in a sheer decision to repair old amends with his king brother, he was enamored with his child. he was the epitome of what daemon had inspired to be; a faithful and loving brother to his sibling, and a bundle of joy that was the near opposite of what daemon was. to create something so good and so pure was evidence enough that maybe daemon could be salvaged.
he knew that this, this family – his family, was the one thing in the world that he vowed to uphold and protect, no matter the cost. he’d cross oceans, move mountains, and bring the kingdoms to heel with the help of his dragon-mount caraxes if that was what you needed.
“they’re sweet, aren’t they?” you say, following his gaze. he hums in agreement.
the funeral then moves to the inner halls of driftmark, where corlys velaryon and your aunt, rhaenys targaryen, had set a feast in remembrance of their late daughter. the food was delicious, an array of players of roasted pig, cakes, and fish been laid out. no doubt they were delicacies that were once enjoyed by laena velaryon. your seat was at the long table alongside the princess rhaenyra’s family, your fathers family, and your own.
the day had swiftly come to an end and everyone was confined to their chambers, or rather, they were supposed to be. it was no secret that aemond targaryen had disliked the obviousness of being without a dragon-mount. he, however, had the glorious idea of claiming vhagar as his mount. now riderless and unclaimed by someone of valyrian descent, the enormous beast had accepted aemond as hers.
this did nothing but enrage the velaryon twins. push had come to shove, and soon punches were being thrown. it was only through the intervention of the targaryen household guards and kingsguards, were the children separated. your children, unfortunately were caught in the crossfire trying to defend both aemond and rhaena. your poor children had no idea of the growing divide that grew between the children of alicent hightower and rhaenyra targaryen.
a knock had come to your chamber doors, one that interrupted the slow, passionate kisses that were exchanged between the near naked body’s of you and daemon. he pulls away from you and glares daggers toward the door.
“i thought we asked to not be disturbed?” he asks, his voice mixed with the edge of anger and annoyance.
“i’m sorry, my prince and princess, but it’s of grave urgency,” the steward responds behind the closed door, “i’m afraid it involves your children.”
the pair of you were quick to redress and make yourselves presentable. with the swing of the door and a bow of respect, you both followed the steward without another word.
that is when you met the other members of your family in the halls of hightide and you arrive before moments before rhaenyra. your children are quick to be by daemon and your side; daenys hugs you and baelon seeks refuge by daemon. a growing, red and purple welt had begun to swell on the full cheekbone of baelon. the fury that begins to grow in daemon is obvious.
you bend at the hip to the farthest your growing stomach will allow, your hands gently cupping daenys’ tear stained cheeks. her cheeks are flushed with pink and hair frays thick with sweat gather at her hairline. you feel your heart break as you feel her small body shudder.
“what happened? tell me the truth.” daemon asks gently as he kneels down to baelon’s level. the growing boy turns his head to glare at where the other children were gathered.
“aemond claimed vhagar as his mount, but baela said vhagar was hers to claim.” gods, the kids and their never ending desire to be a dragonrider. you were thankful your kids had mounts already, as your dragon myrax had laid a clutch of eggs that both hatched. “then jace and luke got involved.. then i tried to help defend aemond. it wasn’t right that they all attacked him.”
atlas, your son wasn’t a bully. a sigh leaves you and you hug your daughter tight.
then, the question comes to what would happen as a result of aemond’s eye. you release the hold from your daughter and approach the rapidly forming circle. you stand by your elder sister rhaenyra, your hand holding hers in support.
everything happens too fast. rhaenyra demands that aemond be questioned about where he learned to call her children bastards, alicent demands and eye for an eye, and soon, a knife is drawn by the queen and she makes a beeline for the crowned heir.
your eyes open wide in surprise, but you move forward quickly despite the pregnancy you bear, “no!”
again, a push comes to shove, and alicent shoves you to the side. you cry out as your body collides with the floor. somewhere along the fall, you hit your head. your children shout your name and rush to your aid, followed by their father. he kneels beside you, moving your hair from your face, eyes assessing the damage.
it’s then he notices the crimson liquid that slowly gathers then falls from your temple. your hand tenderly touches the spot and you grimace with pain.
he rises and moves to pull the queen away from rhaenyra, his eyes cold and his face hardened. the members of the kingsguard are confused as to who to protect; the king whose in the presence of a weapon, the queen who was just shoved by the rogue prince, or the named heir to the iron throne who was bleeding from her forearm. three important figures of the crown were in the crossfire.
criston cole, ever so faithful to his lady, ran to alicent’s side and stuck himself between daemon and his queen. daemon takes this as an invitation to draw his sword and the kingsguard, as well as the targaryen household soldiers, follow suit. your husband raises dark-sister and points it accusingly at alicent and her band of loyalists.
daemon wants a reason to have dark-sister meet criston coke – any reason, small or large, would’ve rid the targaryens of this rat.
“disarm him!”
the command is met with no response. no one knows who to defend, but your heart warms at daemon’s ability to single-handedly not care and care so much at the same time.
“you will not come into this hall and dishonor the very memory of laena velaryon,” he starts, voice low and thick with disdain. his lips curl back into a snarl, “and you will not bring my wife and my children into this feud.”
once his message seeps into the air; he pulls away and sheathes his sword, eyes locked onto the shocked expression that queen alicent wore, “you should remember your place, alicent. royal blood runs through our veins, you should do well to remember that you don’t have the same luxury.”
the comment causes a scoff to draw from alicent’s mouth.
daemon returns to your side and helps you to your feet. a maester comes, along with a rag and some needle in case the wound is needed stitches. he leads you away, arm wrapped around your back and the other supporting your weight as you hobble your way next to him.
“as soon as you are seen to, we and the children are leaving.”
and with a few stitches to close the wound, your face was rid of the blood that came. daemon, daenys, baelon, and yourself, packed your things and sent them home along with your household guards. the four of you, took your dragon-mounts to the sky and flew to dragonstone, where you shared the massive castle with your sister and her family.
despite warning alicent to not involve his family, you taking rhaenyra’s side and baelon’s actions in the squabble between the children had already chosen your fate and tied you to the blacks.
sooner or late, the war between the blacks and the greens would divide the targaryen family.
#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen fic#daemon targaryen imagine#daemon targaryen fanfic#hotd x reader#hotd fanfic#hotd imagine#my writing
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Divine
Summary - Azriel and his mate find each other again during alone time
Warnings - SMUT! SMUT SMUT SMUT!! Although a bit mild, there is smut in this, no minors allowed from here on out!
A/N - This is part of the Ocean Eyes Series. A little smut piece for Azriel and the Reader to enjoy together! I hope you like it!
"I don't like how quiet it is,"
"I knew you were going to miss him as soon as we dropped him off with Cassian and Nesta,"
"I wasn't going to say anything and ruin the mood,"
Azriel barked a laugh, walking over to the fireplace to feed fresh logs into the fire, across from the loveseat where you were already sitting. Watching Azriel feed the fire and let the flame rise a bit, bringing warmth into your little home, made you relax all the more as the early evening was getting darker outside.
Both you and Azriel had the evening to yourself, Alec having a sleepover at The House of Wind with his Uncle Cassian, Aunt Nesta, and Cousin Rose. Rose was big enough for Alec to play with her, thinking she was so fun to run around with and play with for hours on end. Cassian reassured you and Azriel that Alec would have the best time with his relatives, promising to teach him how to sword fight and do flips in the air with his wings.
The latter Azriel shot down real quick, but he was happy to let his son go for the night,
Plus, you can tell Azriel wanted to have some time with you and only you. Since you finally healed all the way through from being near close to death, you were simply trying to go back to a normal life. Though normalcy was not going to be in your life anytime soon because of recent events: Eris was still on the run with no leads as to where he was, Autumn Court's alliance with Night Court was shaky because of Eris.
With all of this happening, you were worried about Azriel. No one told you, but you caught onto the fact that Azriel had a personal target on Eris. He was too strung out, too tight in his backside and his stance, and there was no sign of him being relaxed anytime soon. You understood why, but you also didn't wish for him to be wound tight like a tot. Even feeling the bond and how he was not even relaxed for one moment. Stiff, a bit rigid, and you hoped you could find a way to get him to relax and unwind.
Maybe it was perfect timing that you two were alone at your home.
Azriel stood back up, looking at his handiwork in the fireplace and the roaring fire that was now active. You stayed in your spot on the loveseat, your head slightly cocked to the side as you were looking at your mate with adoration and love in your eyes. For the last week and a few days, Azriel nursed you back to health and made sure all of your needs were met. Applying the ointment to your wound, delivering your food to the bed you were resting in, traveling back and forth between the River House and your cottage to get you books and some of your cross stitching when he noticed you were getting bored. Mor joked that he was becoming more of a wet nurse than a Spymaster. Azriel never cared, he was more focused on helping you get back to health and making sure you were 100% better.
With a nasty sliver of a scare along your wing, you finally were able to leave River House behind and head home. But even when you did make it home and were given permission to be mobile, thanks to Madja, Azriel still was on edge. Rightfully so, you couldn't tell him to calm down because the threat that almost killed you was still out there somewhere in Prythian. You weren't simply wanting Azriel to go back to the leisurely being he was before, but you wanted that light back in him.
"You're quite good at that, my love," You teased, seeing that smile on his face and the reflection of the fire dancing along his cheeks and nose. He looked back at you, his silhouette against the orange tint of the fire would look daunting to others. But not to you, not when he was walking back over to you and lowered himself on the loveseat to be shoulder to shoulder with you. His wings touched yours, making him look over at your wigs that were tucked against your backside. Reachingup, he grazed his finger along the scar that was still fresh. You shivered from the touch, your wing was a pinch more sensitive thanks to the scar.
"It's healing well," Azriel stated, his voice calm as he was looking at the wing with intrigue. You weren't paying attention to your wing and its sensitivity, you were focusing on your mate. Watching his hazel eyes dancing along your wing, the smoothness of his cheeks after a recent shave, even the soft smile he had made you feel at peace.
"Thanks to Madja, and you," You replied, Azriel's fingers that were hovering over your scars moved away from your wing swiftly. He moved his hand over to rest in his lap, though you were faster, and took his hand in yours to cradle it. Azrielwatched, you simply lacing the fingers together and smiling at him. Maybe it moved him a bit, seeing how relaxed and calm you were with him since you both were alone. You had plenty of things to say to him but had no idea where to start. Azriel must have sensed your quietness, he looked at you in concern as he squeezed your fingers together.
"Sweetheart?" He asked tentatively, he was searching your face as you were looking down at your joined hands. You are overwhelmed in that moment, being able to be back home at your home, healthy, and able to share this moment with your husband and mate. It made you want to cry, but something was holding you back from bringing on tears. Azriel reached over with his spare hand, placing a finger under your chin to gently raise your gaze to him. All you could do was smile, Azriel was about to say something else when you finally spoke.
"I'm happy," You explained to him as he was searching your eyes. You might have sounded odd to say that since you were on the verge of crying, but Azriel said nothing and simply watched you as you kept talking, "I'm happy that I'm here, and I have you to thank,"
Your voice sounded broken, yet you were smiling as if nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong, you were in good health and you had your family with you. Maybe you were thinking back to that moment when you woke up in River House, in insane pain, and Azriel perched over you like a guardian angel of sorts.
Even with the pain, the near close to death, seeing Azriel gaze at you with so much devotion and love in his eyes was enough to bring you back again. You thought for a split second in the bed that you were in a dream, or that you died and were now in some kind of afterlife with Azriel waiting for you.
But he did more than that, he brought you back to reality.
Azriel gently grazed your cheek with a singular finger, catching the one tear that was about to spill over, and smiled lovingly at you, "You never have to thank me for loving you with all of me,"
He made it seem so light, so simple, even freeing. He rarely expressed his feelings to others, even with you though you two have been together for centuries. It was the very simple moments that were sprinkled with love and gentleness, youloved those moments since they showed an intimate side of Azriel that he rarely brought into light.
"There was nothing in all of Prythian that would stop me from having you in my life, sweetheart," He explained, thefinger that traced your cheek was now curling around your jaw, his palm against your jawline and the touch alone was a shocking sensation to you as he searched your eyes with his soft smile and his bright eyes, "I've told you this before and I mean it when I say it: You make my life so much better. I can't picture going on in this life without you in it,"
It moved you to hear that from him, even though you've heard it say many times from him during your long span of a relationship and courtship. Even back when you two met so long ago as teenagers, fresh in your adoration and love for one another, Azriel poured out his love for you and was willing to give you his heart. He did, to which you took it delicately in your own hands and swore to never break.
You haven't broken it yet, hundreds of years and a son later.
You leaned up and kissed him, starting it soft and sweet as he leaned into your touch. His fingers still against your jawwere delicate for you to feel while he kissed you back and snuggled a bit closer to him. Something about kissing Azriel in that moment, alone in your small living room away from the rest of the world, made you feel a like of fire in your belly.You knew this feeling, you've felt it so many times before in the throws of intimacy and passion.
But this time, it felt so slow and like a crawling passion. Nothing rushed the pair of you as the kisses continued, your fingers both digging into his hair and the soft shirt that he decided to wear that night. His own hands and fingers were moving as well, the hand along your jaw was still gentle but was holding you in a possessive manner. His other hand was slowly inching up along your arm, sending you shivers and chills that you felt all along your skin and even under it as well.
It felt like you were young again, young and pent up with these losing feelings for one another as the kisses were slowly evolving and growing. Azriel never strayed in his affection towards you, his body curled over to you while you two were getting impossibly close and still kissing one another. Now it was passionate, that fire in your belly was only growing stronger as you felt Azriel trace your lower lip with his tongue. Barely a graze along your lip with the very tip of his tongue.
You whimpered, moving without realizing it and you were now straddling him.
Something inside the both of you clicked open, like a tight chest that was locked down for so long and now finally free. Azriel tilts his head up to kiss you soundly and wrap his arms around you softly. Your fingers were in his hair, tugging at him slightly as your head tilted to the side to feel him kiss you deeply. Nothing else was in your mind as Azriel was touching you, kissing you, making you feel so whole and alive again. Even after being with him for centuries and with a very healthy sex life, this time it felt different. It felt deep, It felt complete.
It felt alive.
His fingers were now under your shirt, pushing up your shirt to be under your armpits to give you a chill along your soft stomach and backside. You huffed, throwing it off within a second and diving back to kiss Azriel and framing his face in your hands. He smiled against your lips, you feeling his skin skim along your stomach and hips while your fingers were not moving down to the collar of his shirt to give it a gentle tug. Azriel laughed against your mouth as you tugged it again.
"Impatient little thing, are you?" He teased against your lips, though you silenced him with one massive kiss, your own tongue then licking into his mouth. He groaned, you having a small smirk as you were needing to lean back but Azriel was chasing after your lips. But you placed space between yourself and him, a hand on his chest and seeing his dilated eyes watching you like you were prey to him, His chest heaving, his lips plump and dark, and the flushness in his cheeks. He might have looked like a wreck to anyone else.
But to you, he was angelic.
"Who's impatient now?" You challenged back to him. He grinned, a predatory-like grin etched on his gorgeous face as he then grabbed the collar of his own shirt and yanked it off. You watched as it fell to the ground, Azriel seeing it too as he broke out into a laugh.
"Thank The Cauldron these shirts are Illyrian friendly," He said in a snort, you giggling as well as you saw your shirt crumbled next to his. Having this small moment to laugh, even when you both were shirtless and in a compromising position, was a sweet reminder of how you two were so in love with one another. The centuries of having one another,and learning from one another, all lead to a fulfilling life. Nothing felt bland or out of place, you still had those butterflies in your chest when you had these moments with him.
You both took in a breath together, looking at one another with big grins on your faces as Azriel finally dived back in to kiss you. The heat was still there, no throes of passion but still active enough to have Azriel place his hands along your backside to touch your bra and the latches behind it. You were feeling so good all over, the heat was getting bigger in your stomach as you nodded against his lips.
"Please," You said along his lips, Azriel groaning in approval as his fingers were skillfully taking off the bra straps and letting your bra slip to the ground. His hands immediately moved, cupped your breasts as you moaned against his lips and curled into him more. The feel of his calloused palms against your soft skin, you feeling your nipples hardening immediately from his touch, it was a weakness for you that your mate knew far too well.
You could even feel your core reacting to this, shockwaves under your skin were felt like Azriel moved his lips along your lips and then to your jawline and then your neck. You clung onto him with one hand, your other moving down to undo the buttons of his pants.
"Let's go to our bed…" You felt Azriel hum against your neck, making you shiver from his lips along your sensitive skin. But you shook your head rapidly, not wishing to lose this momentum or this drive that was building. You popped the one button open skillfully with your fingers, and the sound alone was heard by both of you.
"No," you said hotly, feeling him lean back and look up at you while his hands were still cupping your breasts delicately. You saw that fire in his eyes alone just in the way he was watching you with desire etched all over his face. You took in a long inhale, almost feeling powerful to have the Spymaster himself bend to your will.
So you leaned down, nuzzling his nose against your own and looking at him directly in the eyes.
"I want you, here and now, on this couch," You instructed him.
You've never seen him cave so fast and so willingly.
You both moved elegantly, knowing this dance far too well as you both helped strip each other's clothes off while remaining close to one another. Like magnets, unwilling to be too far apart as you both were now bare and holding onto each other. In this little home that was your safe space, a space you two built up and kept strong for years on end, your love was blossoming all over again. Feeling his lips descending to your breast, kissing one breast with delicacy and yet with fire while his other hand took care of the other breast with ease. You were too far gone in the lust and sensations of his mouth and hands on you to notice Azriel's own shadows licking along your skin, making the lust come out all the more. You had to give him credit, he knew how to use all his tools to his advantage.
Moans and sounds of passion filled your little home as Azriel sunk into you, you both holding onto each other so closely as he finally sunk into you. It always took your breath away, how he both stretched you to your limit and yet made it feel so perfect and so right. So many times in the past you thought how perfect he felt inside of you, snug against your walls and hitting the right spots within you that made you see and feel stars. You felt it again that moment, his cock fitting you so perfectly that you felt like you two were made for one another. It made you speechless for a moment, frozen in his lap as he was watching your reaction. No matter that you couldn't find the words or put together a sentence, you were feeling everything and everywhere.
You had no idea what Azriel was thinking at that moment, watching up be speechless as he was buried deep inside of you. He was feeling that sensation as well, pure lust and euphoria rolled into one. Nothing else could feel this amazing, this close to heaven or any kind of heaven, and it all came from you. Your shining eyes, your tender heart, and yourwillingness to love him for all he was and for all his flaws. But the physical love he felt for you heightened all the more.
But seeing you bare, eyes lusted over in bliss and love with your head tilted back and looking up at the ceiling, chest heaving, and your hair cascading down your back, Azriel was in love all over again.
"Mother Above," He said in a breath, almost sounding winded himself from the sight of you. If he were to die in that moment, he would die a happy being and have no shame in it. You opened your eyes, hearing him and looking at you with your breath barely on your lips. He smiled the rare smile that made you think he hung the moon. He uttered one word, a word that he would use to always describe you and his love for you:
"Divine"
From that moment on, you both moved so softly and carefully yet filled with passion and possession simultaneously. Youwere inwardly thankful that your home was tucked away from anyone else, giving you all the privacy to fully enjoy this moment with your mate as he rolled his hips deeply and almost in a feral manner. You were letting him, having the experience know that this wasn't going to be anything typical. Your sex life with Azriel was never typical: it was always driven to ecstasy. Somehow, this time seemed deeper. Being on the couch in front of a roaring fire, the sounds of bothyourself and Azriel enjoying one another as you rode him carefully with his arms around you, it all felt like an out-of-body experience.
As you were getting close and closer to your peak, you were closing your eyes and leaning against Azriel as you were feeling every sensation: his cock hitting your sweet spot inside of you with every roll of his hips, his hands roaming along your sweaty skin, his lips brushing along your neck. Even hearing him moan and grunt, the pure love and lust he was feeling too while he pleasing you, was making you get closer to the edge as well. You both were feeding off each other, a tactic you both have done for years and years.
I love you, Cauldron I love you so much. I can feel you….mph….everywhere! You hear in your mind through the bond,that his voice was sounding raw and emotional as you were moving hotly in his ear. You felt wrecked, emotionally and lustfully as you were attempting to connect words to make a thought or two. But he was fucking you so good, drilling into you to the point that you were losing your breath once or twice.
Right there Az….fuck…right there! Please…please fill me up. You moaned through the bond to him, the rational side was slipping away and something else was taking over. Something that you could only show to your mate when you were in the throws of pleasure. Perhaps you weren't thinking about it too much, but Azriel let out a gutted moan. Something you never heard in a long time, such a long time. It made you open your eyes briefly, looking down at your mate and seeing the wrecked look on his face. So disheveled, and yet beyond gorgeous to you as he kept rolling his hips over and over to not stop the momentum.
You knew then that a new side of Azriel took over.
Say that again! He pleaded in the bond, his eyes slammed shut as you heard his pleading tone in your mind. You were confused at first, not knowing what he was talking about while you were petting his hair and still staying so close to him. He said nothing at first, just grunting with every thrust he was giving, but you were moving your fingers then from your face over to the top of his wings, being dangerously close to running your fingers along the membrane to throw him off.
Say what, baby? You asked him, almost sounding a bit smug about it while you tried to hold back from touching his wing. Just seeing his face alone was enough to make you want to crumble and fall to pieces, your pleasure getting at an all-time high and about to tumble over. But you still had the one last piece of resistance, of control, to hold back until you knew Azriel was going to tumble over with you.
To…oh fuck….to fill….fill you up. He confessed, having you smile widely in pleasure flowing through you so quickly to take over your entire body. Hearing that from your mate, from a Shadowsinger and feared Illyrian throughout all of Prythian and even beyond, stunned you. He was putty in your hands, and the way he was shaking and whimpering against your skin, you knew he was close. Beyond close, and all he needed was a push.
With a brush of your fingers along his wing, you whispered against his ear, "Make me fucking full,"
He roared, orgasming and emptying himself into you in such a force that it made you cry out and orgasm as well.
The orgasm alone was enough to make your head swim and your skin crawl in the best way possible. The pleasure alone, mixed in with the lust and love that you had for one another was now filling the room as your body was riding through each moment that felt like a lifetime. Azriel clung onto you as he was shaking, still riding his own high as you felt like you were going through it in slow motion. From the top of your head to the tip of your toes, it was all there. You felt out of your body for a split second, floating in the air right above your home and embracing the air.
You were floating back down to the ground again, back onto that couch where you felt boneless in the arms of your mate, who was still shaking himself and feeling just as exhausted as you were. Both of your shared labored breaths, you blinking slowly as the white-hot pleasure that once soared through you was now a Luke warm, a soothing warm. Azriel'sscarred but beautiful fingers were dancing along your bare back, his face dug into your neck and sounding breathless and exhausted. Yet you felt a smile along your skin, you grinning as your face was against his head.
"That's….that's a first," You commented in a gasp. Azriel laughed, sounding so light after giving you an earth-shattering orgasm, "Never took you to like something like that, sweetheart,"
"You bring out the side of me that I never knew I had," Azriel confessed, having you giggle in a shy manner as you finally pulled back a bit to look at a blissed-out Azriel. You loved this look, the look of bliss and pure happiness that could only come from something like this. You were feeling it too, the sense of being the only two beings in the world and everything else ceasing to exist. And having Azriel cradle you close in his embrace, almost shielding you from the outside world and keeping this small bubble of bliss intact.
"You know, the last time we were in a position like this….I got pregnant with Alec," You explained to him as you reached down and ruffled his sweaty hair. He lit up a bit from the memory, you thinking about it too that fateful night when you two were in the deep throws of pleasure together in your bed. It was in the same manner too, you being in his lap and cock buried so deep side of it that you felt every moment and the insane pleasure that he experienced. That memory alone was vibrant in your mind, Azriel leaning up and perhaps reading your mind through the bond, you feeling his flicker of joy over and over as he spoke up again.
"Are you suggesting that we have had a repeat of that fateful night?" He asked, almost in a tease as he saw you blush. Youwere about to hide your face from him, moving your eyes away from him. However, he was faster in catching your jaw with his fingers and making sure you were facing him again. You felt the butterflies in your stomach as he kissed you sweetly. This kind of intimacy, this kind of love, it was something others around dream to at least experience once. Youhad it for centuries, years of building it up together and making it as strong as it was.
As Azriel pulled away from your lips, he still kept his smile and his loving gaze on you as he searched your eyes.
"If we did, then I am all the more happy for It," You whispered, your heart beating out of your chest. You were thinking in the back of your mind that maybe down the road, sooner or later, another little one would be in your family. It was never a topic you or Azriel spoke about, but then again it wasn't closed either. Life with Alec was beyond a blessing, unlocking a part of your heart and soul you never thought you would have in this lifetime. A child that was the perfect mix of you and your mate, was all you've ever wanted and more. And thinking of another child, another perfect child that you and Azriel would guide in the world.
It was so tempting.
"I think a shower is in order," Azriel hummed, carefully slipping out of you and you shifting a bit uncomfortably. But he moved swiftly, he picked you up bridal style, you laughing as your arms were around his neck and he stood up. You both were naked and yet ecstatic, Azriel carrying you over to the bathroom that was attached to the bedroom as you leaned your head on his shoulder.
The flickering dream of perhaps another child in your family was still in the back of your mind.
The End.
Tagged - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams @prettylittlewrites @fxckmiup @alwayshave-faith
#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x reader#azriel x you#Azriel#acotar fanfiction#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#a court of mist and fury#a court of silver flames#azriel spymaster#azriel x oc#azriel fanfic#azriel acotar#fanfiction#writing#daddyazriel#daddyazrielandalec#azriel x female reader#acomar#acowar
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The Beast Blade - Feyd Rautha x Fem! Reader
Hello lovelies, I am back and i have brought to you the product of my many nights spent reading Feyd Rautha smut. I thought i would have a go at it myself. This is part one of a 4 part series. So please enjoy xoxo
Synopsis - There are enemies in every territory. At the request of the emperor, the House Harkonnen and Atreides have been asked to discuss the conditions of a peace treaty, that could subside years of futile conflict. Poised at the centre of this conflict are the young heirs of each house. Na-Baron Rautha and the young Duke Paul Atreides. Under the machinations of their guardians, they must navigate their own claims to leadership and the claims of their newfound allies. Although Rautha is developing a taste for the young Duke’s sister, and he will stop at nothing to claim what he covets. Regardless of the outcome of his desires.
18+ MINORS DNI. Sexual contact warnings
This part is short, sorry xo
Part 1 - A dove and a dog
He was Harkonnen, the perversities of his nature knew no human bounds and yet his composure was impeccable. The lone blade, they called him, hushed in opulent halls and whispered around feasting tables too grand for proper representation. Better translated to ‘Beast Blade’ in the native tongue. His character was primal, unfiltered, raw, and those who were favoured enough to appear in his presence frequently, knew of his interests.
A select few suffered them recurrently.
Na-Baron Feyd Rautha was a petulant man. Yet desirable in the traditions of the House Harkonnen. His body an expanse of heavily built muscle tissue and sheer skin, with a hue of spectre white. The rotated assortment of precious things that followed, nipping at his heels and fawning over his body were ever lingering in his presence. Although not today.
Feyd found himself, today, in an unfamiliar setting, an uncomfortable one at that. Traipsing soft footed around the halls of the Arrakeen castle, now under the jurisdiction of House Atreides. Thieving bastards he thought, and imagined his blade studying the soft pale skin of the eldest atreides child. Weak as a crib bound babe was Paul. His rumination’s shifted to the youngest atreides daughter, a girl of 18 and whether it would be pleasant to ruin her in the short time he would spend here.
The ruining of the princess was far from possibility, considering the minute truth that was she despised his bloodline, along with him. The complexities of this sand wrought cavernous abode was not lost on him, seeing as his former years as a youth had been spent causing deviltry about these halls. His hand slid over the walls; it reminded him of the past.
A servant girl began to cross his path, hurriedly skipping on tapping feet to an unknown destination. It was decided.
The Na-Baron expressed his internal sentiments ‘A dove has entered the dog’s pit’ Her chin rotated in his direction and she replied ‘And does the dove not have wings?’ Her overt defiance to a superior amused him ‘The dove has wings and the dog has teeth’ He gave in to her rebuttal. Her smile stretched small against her pretty face ‘The dove is slight’ Feyd studied the girl with intense curiosity.
‘Dogs eat birds’ The words dripped from his poison lips; he did not indulge in their recreation of the folk tale. His boredom grew within him.
She stepped closer, bringing forth the beauty of a youthful face into a light which did not shadow the most adored features. What a strange specimen, he noted, allowing her momentary pauses from his scrutiny. His eyed lowered to the tunic she wore, draped lazily over her skin and the perfect tits that hung on her chest underneath it. She noticed Rautha’s eyes darting from peak to peak across her chest. His tongue subsequently sliding over his bottom lip. He spoke ‘Do all caladan women have such perky tits? Or is it primarily you?’ Rautha smirked
The girl was not accustomed to such a word and she imagined it held its own brutality for this man. Her mother had always referred to them as breasts. The Na-Baron suppressed the urge to reach out, to skim them with his fingers. The pretty little servants on his home-world would have welcomed his hands to their chest but little did he care for those white mounds of flesh. These things were delicate, flush from exertion and begging to be touched. She, taken aback by his statement, breathed a gasp and stumbled back a pace. Was he truly so bold?
The girl stood in puzzlement of the living statue positioned before her. Slithers of yellow light filtering through the windows, washing over him as though a wave of ocean cascading. It illuminated his form for brief bursts of remark “I asked you a question” he repeated simply “And by what means do you expect me to provide an answer” She clipped her tone, speaking candidly. Feyd stilled himself, the initial spouts of rage fighting their way to heat the skin of his arms. He presented his smile, blackened teeth, gums writhing over them like tar and pressed her further “Are all caladan women blessed with perky tits? Or and i repeat, is it primarily you?”
She would not play pawn in this righteous amusement of power and lust. Her mouth kept in a hard line, to the Na-Baron’s annoyance. He reached his fingers to her in an untamed prediction of violence. The thumb and forefinger of this looming figure came to rest on her neck, pressuring the area. His other hand grasping the flesh of her ass in it claws, he craned his neck, and stretched downwards to whisper against the shell of her ear ‘I will take these tits in my mouth until they ache with pleasure and the distortions of lust cloud your feeble mind. There is no one you can run to that will affirm this ever happened. Do you understand?”
The girl nodded slowly, heaving breaths racking her lungs. Hips bucking in a childish display of discomposure, into where his pelvic bone struck against hers.
Duncan idaho rounded the corner, spotting the pair immediately and his eyed betrayed cause for concern. She sensed his presence to her side although Feyd Rautha did not conclude his oppression of her even under the eyes of the Duke Leto’s most trusted adviser. “My lady” The firm query of Idaho concealed layers only known to the girl and her family. Feyd released her at the realisation of the name Idaho gave to her. Lady, he pondered, interesting. The Na-Baron watched keenly as the little creature before him wandered off, tailed by Idaho.
The Na-Baron revelled in the accusing glance Duncan speared him with upon departure.
#dune fanfiction#feyd rautha#feyd rautha x reader#feyd smut#feyd x you#feyd imagine#feyd fanfiction#dune smut
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Blood for Ruin
Part One
Masterlist
Thank you all so much for the love and support for Part One, it is always so scary sharing brain children. You are all amazing.
Part Two
(Or, Alastor Proves he Makes a Shit Hotel Host by Bullying a Murder Victim)
By the time you opened your eyes, you had been moved to a bed, a comfy bed, in a warm lit room that was modestly decorated. And you were alone, thank god. Sitting up on the edge of the bed and kicking the sheets off as you straightened up. You stretched in a vain attempt to bring yourself some comfort, at least in body if not the mind. Doing this however, resulted in an immediate eye opening panic, because the sides of your arms brushing against either side of your head caught onto nothing.
Y’no, nothing. Nothing where ears should be. Looking around frantically, there was a cracked door heading into what was possibly a bathroom- please god, please be a bathroom. You body checked the frame as you ran in, muttering a whiny ‘ow’ before flicking a switch that turned on the overhead lights by the sink. Door open, lights on aaaand yep. Yep, yep yep. Ears missing. Hyperventilating now, you stumbled to the vanity and braced yourself on the ledge, staring into your own reflection as the panic began to set in.
Hell took your ears!? This was fucking ridiculous. Could one bitch to the devil? But also…how…how were you hearing? Because you definitely could hear. In fact you could hear better than before, like the wind outside rattling against something and a creak from the walls possibly 2 rooms over. Your brain might have been empty of explanation but your ears more than made up for it in what you heard. You leaned towards the mirror, turning your head back and forth trying to figure out what had happened to you. Then you felt it, a twitch, a little itch, at the very top of your head. Eyes drifted upwards to the pair of soft brown ears (?) That didn't quite point straight up, instead pointing more in a 45 degree angle. The left one was flicking of its own accord. The scream that left your mouth was instinctual, and loud.
Almost immediately you heard a knocking at the door and Charlie waltzed in, breathing hard, indicating the speed in which she came to your need. You spun around to meet her eyes, hands whipping to the very soft - so soft - ears utop your crown, breath shaking as you tried to get control over yourself.
“Ooohhh, yes, yes you’ve discovered your adorable new features! Thank goodness, I was so worried!” Charlie said, hands waving in front of her before clasping them together on her chest. “Everyone who comes to hell as a sinner takes on a delightful new appearance that reflects the way they lived and died! It’s a great way for you to meet new people and uh…learn to live a better life in spite of them! Many people take on animal appearances, my dad thinks it’s because every soul transcends the image of a human body.”
Still taking large breaths to keep yourself from screaming, your stuttering proof of your inability to form basic words, Charlie continued.
“Angel Dust is a spider, we think because he was involved in a ‘web of crime’ with his exciting mafia family - Husk…well okay Husk is interesting because I’m pretty sure cats in the overworld don’t have wings but he was a gambler before death so maybe he was just lucky to get wings too! You know, cards fell in his favour ha-haaa…” She trailed off awkwardly, face scrunching in a manner that you understood as her realising maybe she wasn’t explaining any part of this new discovery very well. She rubbed the back of her head with one hand, the other one placing itself on her hip. “Alastor is a deer demon, and it looks like you could be one too! I mean, you’ve got similar ears, although yours are much cuter because they are kind of floppy. And your nose is so cute! Like a baby doe! You’re pretty adorable honestly.”
You glanced at the mirror again, hands finally falling to your face to rest on your chin with your fingers covering your mouth lightly, spaced apart to allow your haggard breathing to come in and out. She was right, you did have a cute nose, it was similar to Charlie’s in appearance, and your ears did closely resemble the ears of a hooved forest animal. They reminded you of a mule deer's ears, the only deers you ever saw in Oregon (where your home was). Looking closer at yourself without the same level of panic your eyes moved back and forth rapidly taking in the new details of your person. Your skin all around was a sort of fawn colour, if fawn the colour could look dead. It was as if Bambi had died and his fur turned an ashier colour devoid of the warmth of active blood. That was you! Your ears were a dark blonde peppered with black, complimenting the soft blondish brown of your hair. Fingertips and nails were black, the black creeping up your arms before ending below the sleeve of your short sleeved pyjama top. You looked down and poked your foot out a bit to see if your lower limbs matched and hooray…they did.
In another world, maybe one where this was a costume, you would admit that you were cute out loud. However denial was still the leading emotion so you just slightly nodded at yourself before slowly turning around to face your gracious host once more.
“So. I’m a deer, so that’s a fun new fact…will I stay this way while I’m…here?” You winced at your admission of hell being your new place of residency.
“Yup!” Charlie replied in a chipper voice.
”And if I manage to get to heaven…will I change into something new?”
Charlie paused, the hand that was on her head had shifted to her chin, finger now tapping in pensive thought. “Hmm, I’m not sure? But from what my dad has said, humans who go up to heaven also take on forms that reflect their earthly life. Soooo you would probably stay a deer.”
”How would your dad know? Can we talk to the people in heaven?” This casual conversation was helping hasten the subsiding panic.
“Uh no. Heaven and Hell are pretty much separated all the time, except for the extermination BUT we’re working on that…My dad is Lucifer. Like the archangel!”
Your face was in obvious shock. Jaw dropped lightly and your hands came to your sternum, and you gaped at Charlie with wide eyes. “Lucifer? Like…the Devil? Satan himself?” What the actual fuck, why was your luck so cursed?
Charlie rocked back and forth on her heels, slightly grimacing from your comments before answering. “Yes, my dad is the Devil - but Satan is his own person, lots of people get them confused, much to dad’s chagrin. Lucifer Morningstar is my dad, the Devil, the King of Hell, fallen angel, and Satan is just the Lord of Wrath. It’s all very simple once you’ve been here a while.” Charlie had come to your side and wrapped her arm around your shoulders to walk you out of the bathroom. ”You should really join us downstairs for a proper tour, breakfast was over a while ago but we might be able to find some lunch in case you’re hungry.”
Your stomach rumbled at the thought of food. Was Hell just like Earth, but scarier? And redder? Would you need to get a job? Pay taxes? Oh good god, was Hell was just the worst part of living on monotonous repeat? Brutal. And certainly great punishment.
“We can work on getting you some more personal clothing later, but you are Vaggie look to be around the same size so she’s dropped off a few pieces just to get you in gear for redemption! I should probably go tell the others that you’re fine. I can’t wait for you to join us!” Charlie was so sickly sweet it was crazy to think she was the daughter of the Devil. She was too cheerful for a normal person, never mind a demon. She waved to you and said bye before closing the door as she exited.
Picking up the first couple of pieces in the donated pile, you dressed yourself in a shorter dress with a billowing skirt oh my god you have a tail ignore it ignore it ignore it and thicker grey socks that went all the way up to the middle of your thighs, covering up your black skin meeting up with the length of the dress. The dress was a softer white colour, not as bright as a crisp, new piece, this was a well loved item. No complaints, it was broken in and you were grateful for the gift. The only questionable features were the X’s that were placed directly over the nipples of the top. That was…quite the fashion statement. No time to be picky, something would be better than the pyjamas you died in. No shoes were provided so you simply walked out of the room into the hallway without.
The hallway appeared neverending from both sides, the detailed wallpaper and carpet going for visual miles. Which way was the right way? Good thing you were unconscious when you were brought up here, makes it much easier to retrace your steps. You were grateful for your giant new ears because it seemed like you could follow the sound of chatter down a hall.
Frowning, you let instinct take over and you went to the right. You were passing a door on your left and you felt the hair on your body begin to rise, a staticky sensation passing over your skin. It was a similar feeling to when you would take a giant fleece blanket out of the dryer when it was still warm. You shuddered and made an audible noise of discomfort. Thankfully it appeared that you chose the right path however, since you found yourself at a set of stairs that appeared to curve to the lower floor. You could hear the chatter clearer- “She screamed at the mirror? She’s adorable! She coulda been a worm or a giant slug or-” You shook your head, attempting to ignore the conversation you were accidentally eavesdropping on. A click was heard behind you and you whipped around to face the creature that resulted in your uncomfortable welcome to the hotel in the first place.
Alastor.
Now that he wasn’t talking and simply staring at you, analysing your being, you could really take in his face. Large, red eyes with a frightening depth to them were framed by darker red skin on his lids, his nose somehow sharp but similar to your own, his was more nose-like however. His smile was the worst part though. You were unsure of what could possibly make him smile so wide. His teeth were very large, and clean despite their colour. Strange for a person framed after a prey animal to have such sharp teeth, and you instinctively ran your tongue over your own behind your lips to discover sharper canines only, nothing comparable to the man in front of you.
In the silence his eyes narrowed and focused on you, making his face far more intimidating. Again, an unintentional shiver ran down your back and you shuddered under his gaze. You were a startled deer, caught in his frightening gaze. You were so unsure and uncomfortable with the situation that you had completely missed that he said something to you. You closed your eyes and shook your head to get out of your thoughts.
”Pardon? I’m sorry, I missed what you said there.” You admitted with crossed fingers that he would accept the apology.
”Yes, clearly. I merely asked you if you slept well! You took quite a nasty fall to the floor! Generally people know my history before I can make them faint from fear so I will accept the compliment. It appears as if my sabbatical has had very little effect on my presence.” He bowed slightly in a polite manner, arm crossing over his stomach as he did so, the other arm holding a microphone that was promptly used as a cane once he came up from his polite gesture. You had done a small curtsy in return, awkwardly grabbing the side of the small skirt to fulfil the action. He appeared to nod in acknowledgment, hopefully appreciating the polite return.
Your arms dropped back to your side as you processed what the man had said. Things were only going to continue to confuse you. This was all a nightmare, honestly.
“Now, on to a more serious matter,” He snapped his fingers, and the both of you were in a different room. Two chairs to your left were angled around a small table, the little radio featured on top of it. God damn it that fucking thing again. Farther behind one of the chairs however, the room opened into a bayou swamp environment - dark, marshy and foggy, the eerie sounds coming from it promised danger of an unknown kind. What kind of place was this? You could feel your ears flick from the ambient sounds coming from the strange forest as Alastor continued his interrogation. Walking to the antique, he asked “What were you doing with my radio, my dear?” Gesturing with his free hand to the little machine.
You essentially vomited out the story behind it, where you found it, why you were there, the reason you took it home with you. He listened intently, glancing at it once you finished your very brief history with the item. It truly wasn't a scandalous thing that you pilfered from some ritzy location, you salvaged it from a hoarder's house after it was put there by a woman with an obsession with Antiques Roadshow.
“If it is yours, why did it come here with me? Charlie said that possessions don’t follow souls into hell, but this did?” You inquired, hoping perhaps he held the answer.
Alastor became pensive “Hmmm. It is quite peculiar that it came with you. What were you doing with it? Please do not miss a single detail my dear, I am curious about our situation.
You frowned. What else other than grabbing the cord as you fell back? You listed out your actions on your fingers, reciting out loud the steps you took before your death. When you landed on the finger you paired with ‘took the back panel off-‘ he shouted a sharp ha-Hah! Confused and with a frown you continued, ending with cutting your hand on it before putting everything back together and heading to bed. Well, then dying. The actual ending.
“Are you sure that was all you did? Do not leave a single detail out, or you might regret it.” A sound attune with a record scratch sound from nowhere as you stared at the demon. Took radio home, took radio apart, bled on the radio, cleaned blood off the radio - your eyes went wide. And you silently checked off a step you missed in your story. You had cleaned blood off the symbols in the radio, the ones that looked like they themselves had been written in blood. Alastors gaze sharpened at your realisation.
“On the panel, inside the radio…” You started, “There were these symbols inside of it, I didn’t really get a good look at them before cutting my hand open,” You absentmindedly looked at your palm only to see a bright white scar where the long cut once was. Already? A Scar in hell? Alastor had stalked towards you and grabbed your hand to look at it. The air around the two of you was suffocating. It was difficult to think straight with him in front of you. And you were suddenly hyper aware of yourself, and him. Holding your hand was almost too much to handle and you tried to pull it back only for him to grip harder, nails pressing into your hand painfully. He raised his other hand palm up and held it beside yours. A matching scar was present. He frowned, though his smile was still prominent.
Dropping your hand he returned to the radio and black shadow tendrils rose from the floor and grabbed it, taking pieces off and placing the back panel of it in his hands. In silence he looked at the mess before entering into a low laugh, one that increased with each breath before he was near hysteria. His figure increased in size, antlers growing in size from his head, limbs lengthening - he swung his head to face yours as his figure started to loom over yours.
“Well my dear, we seem to have a problem” he said in a strange, distorted voice, his figure still looming. “You have compromised some old runes within my radio…it could possibly explain how you ended up here, with us, looking as you do.” Halfway through his terrifying statement he had returned to his ‘normal’ form and fluffed out the lapel of his coat as he did so. Eyes returning to yours the room became darker, and green symbols similar to the ones in the radio appeared on the floor, some appearing to raise up and float around the two of you.
“You will not mention any part of this radio or what you know of it, including where it was found or how you came into possession with it. You will not let others know of how your scar came on your person, and you certainly will not mention any of the runes you saw.” He wasn’t making a request, he was clearly demanding it. It felt as if wind was billowing his hair and coat as his eyes took on a much brighter look. ”If you do, I promise you will regret having ever come here and I will devour your soul only after a long and painful torture, am I clear?” You nodded in acknowledgement, knowing that the only reason you had not thrown up yet was the complete lack of food in your system, though the bile was resting at the back of your throat from fear.
He raised his hand to yours in a handshake motion, beckoning you with the outreached hand to join yours with his. You grabbed his hand with your own, both scars meeting in the middle, and they began to glow before he said only one word - “Deal?”
Well really, was there any other option? You nodded before he tsk-tsked your action, “I need vocal consent my dear, it is required.” The last word turning dark with static.
“Deal.” You barked out, and as soon as you responded, the room reverted back to its original state immediately. Alastor took his hand back and wiped it on the opposite sleeve. ”Excellent. You may leave now, the stairs will direct you right into the lobby. Please tell Ms. Morningstar that my afternoon has changed and I am unable to join her.” The door swung open on its own accord and black tangible tendrils of shadow had all but shoved you across the room and out the door before slamming the door shut so hard you swore the wood splintered slightly.
You paused to catch your breath, staring at the door, which you now knew led to Alastors Room. On the other side you could tell he must have been pacing back and forth, his heels clacking on the hard floors as he did so. Soon after however, it sounded as if a wild animal was throwing furniture and ripping fabric, loud screaming as it did so. Not about to stick around, you sprinted to the stairs and nearly slipped from the lack of shoes trying to place distance between you and the Demon upstairs. You kept up the pace on the main floor until you ran past an open door and caught sight of Charlie sitting on a sofa. You entered the room, out of breath and slightly sweaty from the encounter upstairs. She waved excitedly before patting the open seat beside her for you to sit as she held up an apple in her other hand. You sat, accepted the apple and took a bite before looking at the Television and promptly choking as you watched a news anchor discuss something called an ‘Extermination’, didn’t Charlie mention that upstairs?
Thankfully, once things had settled down in your head, you found yourself swept up in trust exercises, oh goody. Thankfully this spiralled into chaos and you were glad everyone had simply accepted your presence without hesitation, there were far more exciting things happening. It was especially comforting that Alastor would be keeping his promise and leaving on an outing for the day.
****
I will add here, this will be a semi-slow burn. Alastor is aroace pre-reader, but with time things change. Time, magic, and forced proximity.
#alastor smut#Alastor Hazbin#Alastor x reader#Alastor slow burn#Alastor Hazbin Hotel#Alastor x OFC#Hazbin Hotel#alastorxreader#alastor x you
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ℭ𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔞𝔩 𝔓𝔲𝔫𝔦𝔰𝔥𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱
Part 1:
Teaser< >Part 2
Walking down the streets of heaven, sipping on a cold drink through the straw as you held a folder filled with boring paperwork you had filled out only just this morning. For the past week you've been dealing with all types of bullshit from the humans that you're trying to repair since your absence from Earth. Ever since Lucifer decided to give mankind the “gift” of free will, your job has become a lot more difficult than before.
“Thanks for the Luci”
Sera requested a meeting with you which isn’t too surprising. As the high Seraphim she was your supervisor, and she always seemed to want to bitch about one thing or another to you with her new found authority. Taking a final sip from your drink before throwing it away in a near by bin, you moved the huge folder from one hand to the next as you walked into the huge, pearlescent building in front of you.
“It’s nice to see you’re not late for once Y/N.”
You looked up at the huge Seraphim before you as you simply replied with a hum. After the whole ‘Lucifer making Eve eat the apple incident,’ Sera made sure to keep her distain towards you evident. Obviously making it clear that she blames you for the whole ordeal.
“I called you up here today to review a certain case l’m having trouble with-”
As sera was Talking the office door behinds you slams shut, interrupting the Angel before you. You look behind to see Emily, cringing as she looks back at the source of the loud noise, then look back in your direction and she smiles and waves at you.
“Sorry for interrupting, I just wanted to overlay the massage that everything’s ready”
She beats her wings to fly closer to her sister, quickly whispering something in her ear. Furrowing your eyebrows as you look back and forth between them. Sure, Sera has always has some sort is stigma towards you and always makes it a point to tell you things last minute, or hell never tell you things at all. But you could tell there was a lot more to this meeting as she was letting on, honestly making you a little more nervous than you’d like to admit.
Turning back to face you Sera gives Emily another glance before resuming to what she was saying.
“Y/N, as you may of heard. The princess of Hell was up here in heaven as Lucifer, her father demanded that she pitch a certain idea of hers”
Sera pauses as to see your possible reaction to her bringing up an old friend of yours, acting as though his name curses whoever’s tongue dare speaks his name. You raise your eyebrows in response, signalling that she should continue.
“She has some sort of idea that sinners down in hell can be redeemed through the means of this ‘Hazbin Hotel’ she’s been building. We discussed it in court but it was decided that sinners in fact, can’t be redeemed and with that she was sent back down to hell.”
“Hm, you mean the same heavenly court where it was revealed that Adam’s Exorcist go down to hell once a year to exterminate sinners? I’m also assuming you mean the same court I wasn’t invited to but yet, l’m possibly the best person who could of been there as I work with those human souls 24/7 and know the most about these kind of things more than anyone else in that court? Yes I think I know exactly which one you’re talking about.”
You keep making eye contact with the Seraphim in front of you even after finishing your rant. She glares back at you, looking down then back up to your face as you still keep that same glare towards her.
“I think we both know why you weren’t welcome to sit in that court session, who knows how you’d react. Especially when you allow your emotions to drive you so.”
Your wings ruffle behind you, signalling you were fed up with Sera’s constant condescension towards you. You slightly fidget in your seat as your glare doesn’t budge from her face.
“I would’ve loved to meet the daughter of an old friend of mine. I’m not surprised you think of me so low and pathetic that you think I’ll have a tantrum by every little thing associated with him.”
“I also think it’s pathetic that you still think of him as a friend of yours, after everything he’s still done you see him as a pure little angel who’s done nothing wrong”
Leaning further back on the chair you were sat on, you crossed your leg on top of the other as you grinned up at the unnecessarily tall woman in front of you.
“If anything Sera, that proves I’ve moved on. I don’t allow hatred to control my feelings anymore, I suggest you don’t either.”
You had to admit that you were slightly lying to the Angel as you spoke those words, as you’d be a hypocrite if you weren’t, but it was worth it for that look on her face. Finally humbling her from that high horse of hers.
“Hellooo, I am the great Ssir Pentious~ It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance~”
You looked down at the weird snake man before you as he bowed his head towards the ground, tilting your head to the side in confusion. This is what Sera was so worried about? Looking back to the Seraphim’s who lead you here to try and get a little bit more information.
“Sir Pentious here is a ‘former’ demon from hell, who has apparently been redeemed through Charlie’s Hotel and has now, been sent up here in heaven.”
Your demeanour completely changes from one of uninterested to one of astonishment. Looking between the two sisters however, the totally different attitudes upon their faces told two very different stories. Sera of course couldn’t have looked more unamused with the situation even if she tried, Emily however looked ecstatic about the evidence of redemption, her hands clasping together in front of her chest as her wide smile and bulging eyes take over her features.
“This is a great day for Heaven and for Hell! We finally have evidence that redemption is indeed possible and now reason to stop those brutal exterminations, right Sera?”
Sera looks at her sister with a completely different demeanour than before, making herself seem for hopeful about the situation at hand.
“Of course Emily! Me and Y/N here will deal with it immediately, but I suggest for now you handle matters that your assistance a lot more than this one.”
You frowned while looking at the younger Seraphim, though her smile never fading from her features. She must be too excited of the news that she couldn’t hear the dishonesty in her older sisters voice.
With Emily now out of the room, Sera went back to looking uninterested as she did before, her focus now landing back on you and the former sinner besides you.
“Watching you lie to your poor sister is honestly disheartening Sera, dear Emily has a point. If redemption is now indeed possible, there is no need for the exterminations to continue-”
“That absolutely is not an option in this situation. Yes we now have proof that redemption is possible but that doesn’t differ us from the fact that hell may be planning an uproar against us, against heaven.”
Taken aback by the interruption, you turn your focus over to the former sinner beside you, noticing the awkward feeling he’s emitting from himself.
“If I may I assure you-”
“No you may not”
Sera now all riled up and irritated, springs her wings out from behind her as her angelic form starts to poke through from her annoyance. In response the man yelps and he steps behind you for safety from that death piercing gaze of hers, which then travel over to you.
Her wings retract back in towards her but the eyes now littered across her body remain where they are.
“I except you to deal with this matter Y/N, you constantly complain I do not give you the benefit of the doubt, you can use this as an opportunity to prove me wrong and maybe make up for your wrong doings from the past.”
Now you knew you absolutely had no choice in the matter, saying no wasn’t an option at all. But knowing the fact that all she wanted to do was just push all her mistakes onto you to fix was absolutely aggravating. However, keeping yourself calm was best for right now.
Nodding back to the woman as your response, she took that as her cue to leave, not seeing anymore reason to stay in this helpless situation.
As the door closed shut, the serpent who had been holding onto your shoulder for safeguarding had finally found it appropriate to let go after muttering an apology.
At least he was well mannered.
You turned to him offering a comforting smile. He’s probably been so confused for the past hour he’s been in heaven, and by God could you say he hasn’t gotten the normal, outgoing introduction normal new residents are greeted with when spawning at heavens great golden gates. Though you can admit his situation is quite different than others, you can sense his soul is worthy than every other soul up here in heaven among him.
You extend your arms, motioning him to sit at the table near by. He follows your direction and sits as you sat along side him, summoning a pen and notebook with your magic.
“Now if you don’t mind, I have some questions.”
A/N: AAAA THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR THE LIKES AND FOLLOWS FROM THE LAST POST🫶🫶🫶 You don’t know how much it means to me knowing that even just 50 people liked this new idea I’m exploring and I am so very grateful 🙏 .
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