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luveline · 5 days

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JADEEEE i'd love to see an interaction between hotch and teacher!reader outside of school? maybe jack sees her first and step away from hotch for a moment to say hi, hotch gets scared when he realizes jack left but reader comes with him just a moment later because she's panicking too like 'why are you alone? where's your dad?' and jack takes her to him. is that ok??? i hope so! love you <3333

I love you ty for your request! —Hotch flirts with Jack’s favourite teacher, because he’s never as subtle as he should be. fem, 2k

Jack reads a couple of books a week now his dad is home more often. His mom used to read to him some because he loves them, but she preferred to tell her own on the fly. His dad isn’t as good a story teller, and when he does try the stories don’t end up very happy, so they read. Sometimes two or three books a night if they're short ones.

With Jack’s library card they can borrow ten books. With his dad’s, another ten. Twenty altogether, enough to last the month if they’re careful or if dad gets called away a lot, which he usually does.

“Can I look for Super Pup?” Jack asks his dad.

Aaron sits on a chair a little too small for him in the kids section. “What?” he asks, looking up from the back of the large picture book Jack’s just handed him.

“Super Pup?”

“I’ll help, buddy.” Hotch looks like he’s going to stand, then hesitates. “In a second. Don’t go where I can’t see you, Jackers.”

Hotch is tired. He didn’t come home until very late, but he’d woken Aunt Jess anyway and, when Jack woke, there his dad was sleeping in the beanbag by his bed. He’s sore all over now and exhausted from a restless night. Jack feels sorry, as much as he can for being six nearly seven, but he also knows that his dad doesn’t mind the hurting. It was nice to wake up together after a few days apart.

And now he’s brought him to the library, and after that they’ll go for groceries. Jack should be quick. If they get home before dinner time his dad will ask him if he wants to nap together, which is the best. They just lay there in the big bed with the fan on and snooze until it’s too late to cook, so his dad breaks out the takeout menus, and promises he won’t do it again with a quick hug from behind.

As though it makes him a terrible parent for feeding his kid. Jack can’t know how guilty it makes Hotch feel to do it, and Hotch doesn’t seem to notice how much Jack loves these days where his dad is exhausted and totally his.

Jack runs around looking for Super Pup. Hotch’s phone beeps in his pocket, and he fights to keep his eyes open.

A ways away, you browse the fiction section in a crouch, knees somehow totally under your skirt, flicking aside spines of skinny books for something you can read at lunch time. Something that doesn’t require much attention, and could be read in short intervals. You used to demand a half hour to yourself when you first started teaching, but that was before the lonely kids started cropping up. Kids with no friends, or sad smiles, who want company and quiet alike.

You reach for a pink-spined Japanese translation as a little hand pats your elbow. You’re so used to kids you say, “What’s up?” before you remember you aren’t at work.

You turn in your crouch to look behind you. “Oh, hi, Jack! What are you doing here?”

“Me and dad are looking for books.”

You smile at him genuinely, happy to see your favourite student, even if you’re terrified on the inside at the prospect of his father. He’s the most gentlemanly man you’ve ever met. He’s arduous in how respectful he is, he’s understanding, and he’s tall, dark, and handsome. It is a chilling collection of traits. You stumble whenever you have to talk to him.

But Jack is easy. You and Jack talk every day. “What sorts of books? Just for fun?”

“I want to read Super Pup.”

The kids love Super Pup and his magic bark. You stand promptly, suddenly much taller than Jack as you brush down your skirt. “Wait,” you say. Mr. Hotchner gets called away for work all the time, but he wouldn’t leave Jack alone, would he? “Where’s your dad? You’re not by yourself, are you?”

Jack laughs. “No! I’m looking for Super Pup! Dad’s tired.”

You can’t decipher exactly what those two things have to do with each other, but you can guess how panicked his dad will be to find Jack so far from the kid’s section. Fiction is the other side of the library. “How did you end up over here?” You offer your hand. “Should we go back and find your dad?”

“I saw your skirt, Miss L/N. I like the flowers.”

He takes your hand, clumsy to your gentleness. “Thanks, honey. Let’s go find dad before he calls his scary friends and has your name on the news.”

You get to the kids section slowly. Endearingly so, but nerve-wracking, too, because Mr. Hotchner can be intimidating. Jack likes holding your hand, you think, clinging to your fingers as he guides you across the library, past the staircase down to the first floor, and back to the kids section.

“Jack?” Mr. Hotchner asks loudly, turned away from you both near the graphic novel selection. “Jack.”

“Mr. Hotchner,” you say.

“Dad!”

He spins on his heel. His shoulders relax noticeably, but the stress in his gaze remains.

“Jack, I said stay where I can see you,” he says, not half as scolding as he could be as Jack lets go of your hand and runs to his legs, where he stops. “Please, buddy. You gotta listen to me.”

Jack turns between you and his dad with a smile, “But look, it’s Miss L/N.”

“I can see,” he says softly.

Mr. Hotchner leans down, taking Jack up into his arms with impressive ease, and begins the walk to you where you’ve stayed.

“I hope he didn’t interrupt you,” he says.

“Please,” you say, “he’s my favourite. Just–” You wince. “Don’t tell anybody at school I said that, Jack. Please.”

“I think we can keep this secret,” Mr. Hotchner says.

“He was just telling me that you’re looking for Super Pup. If you don’t find it, we have copies at the school library. And we can always order you one.”

Mr. Hotchner gives you a small, and what you know to be rare, smile. “I don’t think he even looked.”

“I did look!” Jack disagrees, though his disagreement barely has any attitude to it, a credit to his upbringing.

“You clearly weren’t looking in the right place.”

“I was too. How would you know, you were sleeping!”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Mr. Hotchner says to you.

You tuck your hands behind your back. “It’s okay, Mr. Hotchner, I believe you. In my classroom we like to say we’re resting our eyes.”

“Aaron,” he says, as he says whenever you speak to each other, and as you always forget to call him. Not a demand but a suggestion you’d swear to be bordering affectionate.

You’ve been Jack’s teacher for two months this year, and almost the entire year previously. In the summer when they leave, you’ll find out if you’re moving up a grade with him, but until then, you’ve made the most of such a nice kid, and you aren’t shy to tell that to Aaron. You don’t mind that Jack spends his lunch time with you. He embodies all of the reasons that pushed you to become a teacher in the first place.

And his father is a good reason to stay. He’s one of the only nice (hot) dads.

You do worry often that he can read your expression. His lips have quirked into a bemused smile, what’s so funny? He’s terrifying.

“Aaron,” you rush to say, and fill the silence you’ve made, “It’s nice to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you, too. You’ll see me on Monday, so you’ll be sick of me by Tuesday.”

You rock ever so gently on your heels. “You aren’t working.”

“It’s Jack’s birthday.”

You nod, pleased. “I know! I know, we already talked about what cupcakes he wants, didn’t we? Everybody’s gonna have rainbow sprinkle, and for a treat we’re going to watch a movie before lunch.”

“Do you do that for every kid?”

“I do.”

“How do you afford it?” He lowers his gaze. “I just mean, it’s expensive to do that for every birthday.”

“Luckily for me and unluckily for the kids, quite a few of them have birthdays outside of term time. Thirty students is three trays of ten, and that doesn’t usually break the bank, even if things get tight. But… I don’t know, I guess I just have to make room when it does. It’s special to feel special, and,” —you smile, exuberant and a little shy at once, clutching your elbow in your hand— “Jack always makes everybody else feel special. ”

The boy in question turns into his fathers chest, pleased beyond words.

Aaron gives you a long, long look. “Thank you,” he says.

“Oh, you’re welcome.”

You say goodbye to Aaron and Jack and wish them both a good weekend, which you spend wondering what the pressure of Aaron’s hand would be like on your shoulder, and if you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking about it at all. He seems like he’d give a good hug. You catch yourself picturing him opening a door and ban yourself from thinking of him at all.

Monday morning, you stand at the door ushering your students inside, and you can’t help beaming when Jack and Aaron arrive.

“Aw, Jack, where’s your birthday badge?” you ask, fall air nipping your nose.

“He was feeling too shy,” Aaron says. He’s in casual dress again. Some men should be banned from half-zips, it’s inhumane.

“You were?” You bend just a bit, hand in your pocket. “Well, I thought you might be, so I brought my badge from home. It’s super shiny, bud. What do you think?”

You show Jack the badge, It’s My Birthday in silver against a rainbow backdrop.

Maybe it was silly to bring, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t want to wear one, and maybe he should. He deserves for all his friends to give him some attention, and to have them fight over who gets to sit with him at lunch.

“We have something for you,” Jack says.

You stand straight. “You do?”

Aaron hadn’t been expecting to be the one to give it to you, that much is obvious. He hesitates for a second before he passes you a small brown box, the top of which is made up of four leaves folded into a dome. You have an inkling of what it might me.

“Thank you… Can I open it now?” you ask.

“I think you should wait for lunch,” Aaron says.

You raise your eyebrows but abide by his suggestion, murmuring another thank you as Aaron bends to give Jack a hug. “Have a good day. I’ll be here to pick you up, I promise,” he says.

It’s a great day. The kids are excited for cupcakes and overjoyed to get them before lunch. Not a crumb goes uneaten, and as they all sing for Jack with his borrowed badge, he’s actually happy for the attention. He doesn’t eat with you at lunch, which is a great thing even if you love his company.

Alone, you fold back the leaves of your mysterious box and smile like an idiot when you confirm what’s inside. A cupcake slightly more sophisticated than rainbow sprinkle spreads icing across the brown carrier, and a business card leans against the other side.

The front of the card is as you’d expected it to be spelling out Aaron’s contact details from work, and you combust thinking he wants you to call him, but it’s the back that you’d been meant to see. You read it as you fold down the leaves of the cupcake carrier,

Thirty students, three trays of ten. What does that leave for you? —Aaron.

Flirt, you think firmly, happily. He’s such a flirt.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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dcxdpdabbles · 2 months

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DCxDP fanfic idea: In 30 minutes or less!

Danny is a delivery man.

He got the job after realizing his resume was severely lacking in terms of working experience.

Also when he needed more money for his own purchases. There is a big difference between begging his parents for an allowance and earning his own spending funds.

The thing is, no matter where Danny applied, he was not getting a call back. Jazz warned him that a majority of Amity Park didn't hire them - as she also attempted to get a part-time job when she was his age - because of the Fenton last name.

She swore and hissed, but she couldn't prove that it was the reason they weren't hired. She just heard the talk around the town. They all said they wouldn't want to hire from the lunatic family.

That whenever a Fenton went , something bad quickly followed.

It stung, that not even Nasty Burger wanted him. That placed hired people under sixteen for Pete's sake. But Danny was resourceful. If Amity Park hadn't hired him, then he would just try the other place he had civilianship in.

The Infinite Realms.

Danny figured that if societies existed with the Realms, then they had to have a form of currency. He just needed to find one that used the same one as his world did.

FrostBite was more than happy to point him in the right direction. Since his people were the ones to spend generations attempting to map out the Realms, he had found a part of the ghost zone that Danny could blend into easily.

It was only a thirty minute commute from Danny's family portal. He could easily make that after school.

Thus, Danny flew to the portal location FrostBite told him about and ended up in a place called Central City. He found employment very quickly at Joel's Pizza, and for sixteen dollars a hour he was racing across the city to give some sizzling pizza pies.

. He was given a company scooter, but Danny preferred to fly. No one saw him as he never turned off his invisibly until he arrived at the destination. He got great tips for his speed, and his boss was fun to work for.

His parents are proud that he has a job and is not causing trouble. His friends also have their own jobs so Sam and Tucker have to plan their meet ups now- buts that's just a part of growing up.

The only thing that made his part-time difficult was the ghosts. Not all of them bothered him now a days but a few still did.

Like Young Blood. The brat didn't seem to care that Danny was going to be late to a shift since he had no concept of the importance of adult responsibilities. He was able to text his boss an apology using school as an excuse, but he was still thirty minutes late and sporting a black eye.

Joel stared at him for a long moment, muttered something in Spanish, before handing him five pizza boxes, and told him to take it to the central city police department. Danny was supirse he didn't even lecture him.

When he got to the station, the person in front told him to wait a moment since it was the forensic department that ordered food. He waited a few minutes until a blond man came down the hall, with a cheerful smile.

That smile fell when Danny turned to look at him. There was a brief flash of something dark that crossed his expression before the smile was back ten fold

"Hello," Danny said, standing up. "Order for Barry?

"That's me!" The man grins, holding out a wad of cash "Keep the change."

Wow. A fifty dollar tip!

"Sure thanks!"

"Welcome kid!"

Danny practically skipped away, Barry Watching him climb onto his scooter and slowly blending back into the traffic.

He turned to look at Officer Dawn "Is it just me or was that kid covered in bruises?"

Officer Dawn's mustache twitches with displeasure. "He definitely was. Looked fresh, too. Not only that but he works for Joel Pizza"

"This Joel a trouble maker?"

"The opposite, he was a foster kid. Once he aged out and got his own business, he started hiring teenagers in similar situations. Usually, his staff are all kids who are having a rough time. If things are too bad, he makes reports, but we try to avoid it. Don't want to lose one of the few trustworthy safe spaces for those kids." Officer Dawn's hesitates for a second before he carefully asks."A cop poking around may spook them, but a forensic chemist won't. Do you mind finding out what the delivery kid's deal is for me?"

"I look into it." Barry promises already knowing the Flash is also going to be following the boy just to make sure he safe.

He hates it when kids get hurt. Remind him too much of Wally.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp #dcxdp crossover #30 minutes or less!#Danny deliveries pizza #when you broke you make things work #Is Amity Park discriminatory? yes but only towards the fentons #they cause a lot of property damage #Flash is on the case!#misunderstandings

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warnersister · 1 month

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Personal Space

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x reader

Summary: you love your personal space. Unfortunately, Bradley also loves your personal space.

You never understood why Bradley stuck around. Since the academy you’d preferred to stick to yourself; get your head down and get the job done. Especially with a surname like Mitchell. You didn’t want your father and grandfather’s reputation to negatively proceed you, and by the time people had put two and two together as to whom loins you came from: you’d made your own reputation so Maverick never made much of a difference to it.

But still, having dinner in the mess you’d sat down, when someone came and thudded down next to you and began eating themselves. “I’m Bradley” he said when you finally looked up at him. You raised a brow “Bradshaw?” You ask and he nods: you recognise him from the photos your dad pinned up in your two’s hanger. You hum “and you are?” He asks “not important.” You reply, deciding you’d lost your appetite and stood to clear your plate “good talk!” Bradley said, but you were already walking away.

He’d next encountered you when you were running around the academy, early morning; before any naval training would take place. He hummed and decided it was perfectly acceptable to interrupt your jaunt with his presence. “Hey! Up so early?” He asks as he tries to match your pace from a standstill “could ask you the same.” You reply bluntly “well I wanted to get a run in before-” “well there’s your answer.” You reply, cutting him off. “You run really quick.” He says as you try to keep your pace increasing to shake him off “goodbye, Bradshaw.” You say, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes and taking off at a pace he couldn’t sustain. He just stops and shakes his head smiling, you were funny.

Eventually, you’d both gotten up in the air and were quick to earn your callsigns “Rooster” and “Hen”. Bradley earned his because he was up before the chickens, you’d earned yours because the chicken kept fucking following you around like you were his mother. You were sat on the aircraft carrier, your trainee group learning how to land on a ship deck and you’d finally gotten a moment of peace that evening. You sat on the edge of the deck, feet dangling over the edge as you watched the sunset, not moving when you hear someone slip into the space between the barriers beside you.

“Oh look my chick is back.” You mumble sarcastically and Bradley laughs loudly at you. “You love me really” he says, looking at you as if he wanted to you agree with him “you seem to keep telling yourself that, don’t you?” You hum, turning to watch the sea lap against the grey metal. You can feel him fidgeting beside you, as if antsy to say something. “What?” You ask, finally turning to look at him. “What?” He repeats, looking at you with raised brows “you want to ask me something. You’re fidgeting.” You point out “so ask me or fuck off” you say, turning away again. “Your last name is Mitchell” he says and you roll your eyes “you can read and hear. Two things I’ve learnt today.” You huff, again, with sarcasm. “Are you related to Pete Mitchell?” He asks, looking at you and nearly holding his breath “you finally put two and two together?” You ask and he lets out the breath.

“Yeah, he’s my dad.” You say after a while “I was a whoopsie baby my mother didn’t want anything to do with” you tell him. “He used to fly with my dad.” Bradley almost whispers, voice just a few octaves above. “I know” you nod “he’s practically wallpapered all over our hanger.” You say “so are you” you eye him. “He pulled my papers” he says, again after a few moments of silence “I know” you say “do you know why?” He asks “yes.” You reply, and he could tell you weren’t going to elaborate. “Y’know I’m not a fan of your dad, but I really like you.” He says and you just look at him with a blank face. “Yup” you hum to yourself and he raises a brow “just as Mother Goose was described” you say, and Bradley’s face immediately lights up with a huge grin, stretching and arm around you and pulling you into his side.

“Get off me.” “Yup, yep, sorry.”

For your first deployment, the academy set it up that you’d at least be with one person from your training squadron, and today the list of names were coming out; they were scribbled on the back of a napkin and pinned to a notice board.

“1. Haywood & Solomons, 2. Hughes & Shelley & Omaha, 3. Cooper & Parker & Cromwell & Smith, 4. Bradshaw,” you crossed your fingers as someone read out the names, then yours was read alongside Bradley’s “oh for god’s sake” you grumble, turning to see Bradley practically jumping for joy. “This is great! Me and you, Hen!” Rooster cheers and you just stare at him “should’ve called you leech cause you’re acting like one. Calm down.” You instruct and he tries to chill out, but the cheeky smile on his face was indiminishagble.

He only became more unbearable then, with you every working hour, your wingman on the missions you’d fly, inseparable despite your complaints. “Where’s your boyfriend?” Hawk asked you, as he came to sit with you for lunch. You shush him loudly. “Woah woah I only asked where he was.” “Speak his name and he shows up. I’m trying to hide.” you say in a hushed voice “plus he isn’t my boyfriend” “sure” he scoffs but the daggers being shot into his head silenced him easily.

“Hey Hen! Hawk” Bradley greets as he sits down. You grunt and point an accusatory finger at Hawk “this is your fault, jackass” you say and he laughs at you, him and Bradley engage in conversation as you just eat, having learnt the skill of drowning him out. “What about you, Hen?” Hawk asked, drawing your attention away from your plate and up to the two men alongside you, you raise an eyebrow - letting them know you were insinuating that you weren’t listening to their conversation.

“Do you want a family?” He ask and you just nod “really?” Hawk asks “that’s cute, didn’t take you for a family gal” he jokes and you harshly kick his leg under the table “kids and everything?” He asks after the pain subsides. “Yup.” You say and Bradley hums “I didn’t know that” he says and you just look at him “you never asked.” You reply simply, and that was true: he hadn’t. He was quite prepared to spend the rest of existence chasing after you, whether that meant giving you your first kiss on your deathbeds.

The two of you even went to Top Gun together, training to be the finest naval aviators of them all. And boy, you two fought to be the best; tongue and teeth, blood sweat and tears, everything. The decision came down to one final dogfight. “May the best aviator win” Rooster jokes, sticking out a hand to you. You eye it and internally question if you were insane, before leaning up to peck his cheek. “Prepare to loose, chicken.” You say, leaving him frozen in his place while you head to your plane. That day, Bradley was seriously off his A-game, and you came out on top.

A Mitchell finally Top Gun.

“Congratulations!” Bradley says excitedly on graduation day when you victoriously lifted the trophy above your head. You turned to him and he leant down slightly - you weren’t stupid, you knew what he was intending to do. “Thank you, Brad.” You say, turning to walk over to where your father was stood - knowing that was probably the only time Bradley wouldn’t follow you. That was the first time you’d ever called him anything short of Bradley Bradshaw.

“I’m so proud of you honey” your dad says, hugging you tightly and you embrace him back, smiling widely “thank you, dad” you respond and he looks behind you where Bradley was stood a while back, watching the ordeal. “Is that-” “yes” you tell him and your dad just looks at you “I wouldn’t get all teary he follows me like a lost puppy” you grumble but he just grins “he’s a good kid, hon.” He says and you shake your head “he’s definitely something”

“So how does their relationship work?” Bob asks Hangman, watching Bradley talk your ear off and you just staring ahead into space, blankly. “You see Bobby my boy,” Jake begins “Hen loves her personal space” Bob nods “Rooster also loves Hen’s personal space.” Bob nods again, now understanding. “Haven’t they done everything together though?” He asks “I think it’s more the fact that Hen does something and Rooster just kinda goes with it” Phoenix said and Bob hums, as Bradley continues to converse one-sidedly with you.

“He means well” you hear from beside you as you stare out from the hanger, turning to see your honorary uncle Tom walking towards you, you run towards him as he embraces you tightly “hey Ice” you smile, sweetly. “Hey sweetheart” he croaks. “I mean what I said.” He states and you raise a brow “he means well” he nods towards the man doing his required push ups on the ground with Hondo. “I know, Ice.” You tell him. “No, I don’t think you do” he hums and you raise your eyebrows at him. “The kids in love with you. You’ve either got to let him in or tell him to get out.” He says, “you’re living together for goodness sake”. “It was cheaper” you argue “we both know the accommodation is subsidised.” He states, matter-of-factly, patting your shoulder as he turns to go talk to your dad when he walks into the room.

It was true, you and Bradley were sharing accommodation. “Hey Hen, they’ve offered us shared accommodation back in Miramar” Bradley says, coming over with a pamphlet. “Why?” You ask, taking it out of his hands. ‘Married couple accommodation’ it states and you raise your brows “you getting ahead of yourself, Bradshaw?” You ask and he shakes his head “the guy assumed our callsigns were cause we’re a couple” he tells you and you just hum. “Well I’d rather stay there than in an apartment.” You say simply, giving him back the leaflet and refocusing on the plane you were working on repairing. “Seriously?” He asks, voice overly hopeful. You look at him and shrug “just go get the damn house, Bradshaw. Before I change my mind!” You say and he grins, turning and breaking out into almost a jog to head to confirm your living situation.

You take a moment of hesitation, before loudly groaning and heading out onto the tarmac, getting down and doing push ups alongside Rooster. He turns his head and looks at you and you just raise your brows at him. “Hey honey” he grins “hello Bradley” he nudges your hip with his own. “I’ll drive us home.” You tell him, and he raises his eyebrows “Home?” He asks and you huff “okay, Bradley I will drive the two of us back to our shared accommodation that we accidentally got given.” You say and he laughs loudly “home sounded better.”

Then after the mission, the whole Dagger squad got permanently stationed in San Diego, other than deployment, so they urged the new additions to the base to buy their own properties closer to base rather than on it. You and Bradley were sat in the Hard Deck, a long time before it was open, the rest of the Daggers spending time on the beach while the two of you were scouring Bradley’s laptop for a property. Well, Bradley was.

How about this one? He turns his screen to you. You shake your head “I want grass in the garden. I want to plant flowers” you say as you point at the paved back of the house, explaining that it’s a waste of money to have it ripped out. Bradley nods “Mkay, garden” he says, moving back to look again.

“How about this one? Beach front, close to the running track for you. Only a walk from the Hard Deck. White picket fence, really” he hums, turning the laptop again “garden?” You ask and he nods “garden.” He nods with a grin. “Shall we go look?” You ask and he raises a brow at you. “You said it’s a walk from the hard deck. Let’s go.” You say, putting the address into your phone and immediately recognising the street name, Bradley quickly falling into step with you as you walk towards the property.

You look at it and place your hands on your hips. Bradley was right. Pretty damn perfect. “Can I help you?” A lady asks, walking outside of the house, clipboard in hand. “Oh no, we’d just seen this property online and wanted to take a look.” Bradley tells her. “Well I’ve had a no-show on a viewing. How’d you like to take a look?” She suggests, motioning to the open door. “Okay” you nod, following her into the house.

“Obviously the kitchen, living room, even a deck out back with a huge garden and high fences” she says nodding out the window and you hum. “Out the side there’s an entrance straight to the beach” she motions, then starts heading up the stairs “three bedrooms, attic space, bathroom” she says “I’m guessing it’s just you two at the moment?” She asks “oh we’re not-” Bradley begins “yes, just us.” You confirm, shutting him up. “Okay, so there’s a large room for your bed and then if any new additions are to join, you have the space for them” she smiles and leads you back out front.

“It’s not cheap, it’s California. So I understand if you’re not prepared to pay that much money, do you mind me asking what you do?” She asks “we’re naval aviators.” Bradley says “stationed here?” She asks and you both nod “ah! I get why you’re looking for a property here!” She says and Bradley looks at you. “I really like it, Roo.” You say, and Bradley has to stop his jaw hitting the floor at your nickname. “It’s your call, honey” he says and you look at the lady and smile as she offers her hand “we’ll take it.”

“How shall we split the payment?” You ask Bradley as you walk back to the Hard Deck after organising a meeting with the realtor to actually finalise all the kinks and bumps. “I don’t mind doing the down payment then we’ll take it in turn paying the loan” he suggests “we can get a joint bank account and do it that way” you say and he agrees as you settle back into your seats at the Hard Deck. “Where’ve you two been?” Hangman asks “we bought a house.”

One evening, after you were all moved in and were hanging out at the Hard Deck after a long day or routine flying, you were sat outside with Rooster; watching the sunset. “When are we getting married then?” You ask and he spits out his beer “what?” He asks, eyes wide and getting progressively more giddy. “Well we live together, we have a joint bank account, and Jake keeps telling me we’re practically married. So when are we getting married?” You ask as he hugs you tightly “whenever you want, baby” he says, kissing the top of your head and pulling a ring out of his pocket to get on his knee. “Will you marry me?” He asks and you raise a brow “didn’t I just say that?” You ask bluntly “just say yes, please” he begs and you nod “yes. Yes I will marry you, Bradley Bradshaw.” You confirm as he kisses your lips gently.

“Okay get off of me now.”

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azurefanfics · 3 months

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Incoming call from Lover Boy <3

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: A late night call from your lover Wonwoo after successfully wrapping up his second Tokyo concert.

Note: To celebrate Nana Tour coming to an end I decided to FINALLY write the fic idea I’ve had since episode 1. Please forgive my rusting writing skills - it’s the first fic I’ve actually written in years!

“Incoming call from Lover Boy <3”

The familiar nickname flashed up on your screen, causing you to pause in your reading, smiling slightly at the phone. It was just a joke at first - changing your boyfriend’s nickname in your phone to see how he would react, but the sheepish pink blush that painted his cheeks whenever he caught a glimpse of it drove you to keep it that way ever since.

Your phone continued to buzz angrily, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“What’s up?” you questioned, picking up the phone right away. It wasn’t unusual for Wonwoo to call you when he was away, but you knew he’d just wrapped up a concert that night and usually he’d prefer to either celebrate with the boys or just sleep, especially this late.

“Sorry baby, were you asleep?” a familiar face came into view, picking up on the slightly sleepy tone of your voice and voicing out his concerns.

“No, I was just finishing up this chapter, don’t worry. Is everything ok? What happened to drinking with the guys?” you asked, turning your camera on in turn.

“I had a drink already, but I thought I’d turn in early or else I’d be up all night with those idiots. We do fly out at 6 am after all.” The rosy flush that dusted over his features revealed the truth in his statement, as he shook his head fondly at the questionable sleeping habits of his members. “Besides I couldn’t miss out on speaking with you, it’s the highlight of my day.”

This made you smile a little to yourself. Although you’ve never doubted your boyfriend’s love for you, it still felt good to hear that your presence lights up his day in the same way his does to yours.

As you continued chatting about anything and everything - mostly the boys’ antics during the concert - Wonwoo began to remove the remnants of his stage makeup and get ready for bed. You did the same, basking in the moment of shared domesticity despite the ocean between you both. Despite all of the moments you’ve shared together, perhaps watching him sleepily rub his eyes with makeup remover is the most romantic of them all.

Before long, Wonwoo was done cleaning his face and headed back into the hotel bedroom as the two of you chatted. The lights went out with a click and you heard faint shuffling noises as Wonwoo struggled with his clothes. Eventually, he turned on the bedside lamp to reveal himself lying down, shirtless with his glasses on and his head on the pillow.

“You should take your glasses off hun, that’s got to be uncomfortable”, you chastised him, “and that can’t be good for the frames either”.

“No, I want to see you properly”, came the petulant response, “I won’t be able to actually hold you until tomorrow so this is the best I can get”.

“I can’t wait until you’re home.” you sighed. Although it had only been a few days, the pandemic and the fact that you were able to go with them on the last tour meant that times where you’d been away from Wonwoo were few and far between. Although the two of you had been very lucky in that regard, it did make time apart more of a struggle.

“Me neither, it’s not the same sleeping in these hotel rooms without you…”, he sighed. “I’ll be home tomorrow though! Do you have any plans? I know you’re working but maybe we could have a night in? We can watch a movie and order food? Oh! We should try out that new pizza place near ours, you know, the one Mingyu was talking about?”

“Oh yes! He made it sound so good - I’ve been wanting to check it out for a while! We should get extra and then we can have some leftovers for breakfast the next day!”

“…Babe… What are you talking about…. Pizza isn’t breakfast, you monster.” he deadpanned. At this, your cheeks puffed out a little in frustration.

“Breakfast can be whatever you want it to be! You can’t convince me that you had a healthy breakfast every day when you were living with Mingyu!”

As you continued to bicker back and forth about the validity of various breakfast(?) foods, you took a second to admire your breathtaking boyfriend. Even with his face smooshed into the pillow and his glasses askew, his handsome features and plush lips pulled into a subtle smile never failed to make you swoon.

Eventually the conversation turned to your days, catching up on everything that had happened since you last spoke. Although yours was quite uneventful - “just my manager being an idiot, as always” - Wonwoo was full of stories of shopping with the boys earlier that day.

“And then Hoshi just ran away with Coups’ crutches! He was just sat there on the floor pouting!”

As you giggled at his latest story, Wonwoo couldn’t help but join in as well. Your laughter never failed to give him the deepest joy - he would share stories until his throat ran dry, just to see you smile. He’d even endure the endless teasing from his members to buy magazines with his own face on to bring back to you. He didn’t understand why you needed them when you had the real thing - “They’re good to make collages out of, ok? Don’t judge me!” - but he’d dutifully bring them home to you to catch a glimpse of that bashful blush and shy smile of yours.

As your giggles died down, a wave of exhaustion washed over you and you couldn’t hold back your yawn. Despite doing your best to stifle it off camera, your ever attentive boyfriend still caught on.

“Are you tired baby? Sorry for keeping you up, we can always catch up tomorrow instead”, he said apologetically.

“No, no, if anyone should be tired it’s you. You’re the one that just finished a whole concert! Besides, I like hearing you talk. Tell me more about your day”.

At your gentle prompting, Wonwoo launched into another story about Dino’s latest antics. Despite his animated retelling of the members bullying their maknae, you felt calmed by his voice and felt yourself slowly being lulled to sleep. As your eyes drooped further, a gentle “sleep well baby” was the last thing you heard before your eyes shut completely.

—

The next morning you wake up to a text received at 4 am:

‘Sorry honey, we’ll have to take a rain check on our plans today. I’ve been kidnapped’

‘We’re going to Italy. I’ll bring you back some limoncello to make it up to you x’

You wracked your sleep-addled brain trying to make sense of his message before you remembered - Youth Over Flowers! You felt a slight twinge in your chest at having to cancel your date night, but that was quickly overtaken by excitement for your boyfriend, whom you know has never been to Italy before. You had considered visiting together in the past, but you’d never been able to make it work with your boyfriend’s packed schedule. Your boyfriend had rarely been able to go abroad for leisure at all in the past, let alone with almost all his members. The fact that Na PD somehow managed to surprise the boys, despite them losing all hope of the trip actually happening, just made it that much more sweet.

As you set to work looking up restaurant recommendations in Italy to make sure that your boyfriend was able to enjoy his trip to the fullest, a knock sounded on your door. Jumping out of bed and pulling on a dressing gown, you quickly made your way to the door.

“Pizza for Y/N?” It was the pizza place you’ve been wanting to try.

“I don’t think I ordered this? Do you have the wrong place?” you responded, bewildered.

“It was ordered to this address under the name of Jeon Wonwoo. There was a note left on the receipt.” At that your heart swelled, and you accepted the box gratefully from the delivery driver.

As you settled down at the kitchen table with the still hot box, you unfolded the receipt and took in the message your lover left for you.

“Sorry I can’t be there today baby. Please take this as my peace offering while I’m off expanding my pizza horizons in Italy. I hope you have a good day at work, can’t wait to see you soon! 10 days can’t go by fast enough. Please wait for me a little longer love <3”

You smiled softly at the thought of him, bleary eyed, having to pack all of his belongings in a rush, but still taking the time to think of you.

You took a bite of the piping hot pizza covered in your favourite toppings - delicious. Who ever said pizza wasn’t a breakfast food anyway?

#jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen #wonwoo #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #seventeen imagines #seventeen kpop #kpop #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #svt #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfiction

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yowlthinks · 7 months

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The Final 15: Aziraphale's decision matrix in a no-choice situation

I have been thinking and reading about what happened since season 2 came out, and I think I have finally been able to put it all down into a logical sequence. This meta is the result of both countless posts I have read on tumblr and my own thoughts.

But let us start from the beginning, which is essentially Metatron's offer:

Notice how Aziraphale consistently declines the honour, as Metatron keeps pressing. When he says that Aziraphale is the perfect choice he also mentions that Aziraphale "is a leader, is honest and doesn't just tell people what they want to hear", which is of course a lie and they both know it. Initially, Aziraphale can't deny it because he can't just go "well, actually, I have been doing exactly that, stretching the truth in my reports and on a few notable occasions outright lying to my superiors and even God Herself". So he deflects to "where will I get my coffee?", preferring to highlight his attachment to Earth. In response to that Metatron makes his final move: he knows about Aziraphale's partnership with Crowley, and that means he knows about the lies.

This threat to Crowley gets Aziraphale to the following decision matrix:

Telling Crowley about the threat is useless. Aziraphale knows he will suggest running away together, and that puts them both in danger. Similarly, running away alone / hiding Aziraphale will not be a good move either because Metatron will not hesitate to harm Crowley and use him as a bait for Aziraphale.

So this means that Aziraphale's best option is not telling Crowley about the threat and persuading him to come with Aziraphale, his second best being going alone. Both of these offer best safety guarantees for Crowley, and this is something Aziraphale would not compromise on.

So our angel launches into this entire speech about making a difference. These are the only arguments he can come up with on the fly regarding why he took the position (the position he does not want! At a place he does not want to go back to!). And he is terrified that Metatron will come back and he won't be able to finish this conversation, won't be able to persuade Crowley. Add to this the fact that Crowley is clearly trying to have an important conversation with him too. A conversation they would like to have in private, but which Aziraphale knows can be interrupted at any moment. That's why he tries to stop Crowley, that's why he is constantly glancing out of the window.

Aziraphale is angry and frustrated, but this is mostly anger at Metatron who put him into this position, at the unfairness of it all, at himself for not being able to get Crowley to agree. It is the despair that just when Crowley confesses his love, instead of being able to say "I love you" back, he has to swallow it down again. Aziraphale's "I forgive you" is "I forgive you for not trusting me to make the best choice for us both", "I forgive you for not agreeing to go with me, I understand why you declined". And this aligns neatly with the theory about the Nightingale song in the car being a message from Aziraphale: it is his way of saying "I love you, I chose you, I chose our side, and that’s why I had to go".

And you know what? Crowley is a clever noodle and he knows Aziraphale well, so he will figure it out, he will spot this out of character, under-duress-only style of decision-making and start untangling that mystery.

We all know how it ends, and I can't wait to see it!

UPD: to put the above in perspective, see this meta with graphs!

#good omens #gos2 #crowley #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #good omens 2 #gos2 spoilers #justice for crowley #gos2 meta #good omens meta #gos2 ending #final 15 #gos3 theories

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fanwarriorfictions · 2 months

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Not Again- Part Three

Azriel x Rowaelin daughter reader

Summary: The inner court has many questions about Y/n and her world. Missing home even more, all she wants is to fly and clear her head, luckily, her babysitter indulges her

Series Masterlist

-Part Three-

Azriel knew this was going to be a long day from the moment he woke up. Surrounded by his shadows who would not shut up for three gods damned seconds. She’s awake, awake, awake, upset, won’t eat, upset. The little busybodies had snuck off while he slept, and apparently they were very concerned about the state of the female next door for whatever reason.

He found himself dressed and in the hallway waiting for any sign of her, when he didn’t receive one in the ten minutes he’d stood there he’d finally crossed the hall and knocked three times on the door.

She was still in there, he knew that from the way his shadows kept trying to slip through the cracks towards her. And he could feel the shield of air she’d placed around the room, hiding the sounds of her approaching footsteps.

The door swung open and Azriel couldn’t explain why his breath caught in his chest. The house had gifted her new clothes, the traditional night court style that Amren preferred to wear, in the deepest darkest night court black. The silk cropped shirt hugged her curves, and the flowing high waisted pants left a small sliver of skin on display. Beautiful, pretty, black suits her. His shadows whispered again and again and again, he was about ready to lock them away for a moment of peace.

“Here to take me to the dungeons yet?” She asks, lifting her arms towards him as if expecting cuffs, amusement glittering in her eyes as she watches his eyes lift from her waist, “what’s on the table today? Just some light interrogation? Maybe a bit of torture?”

“Breakfast actually,” he replies dryly, “the others will be here shortly.”

“Well that’s no fun,” she pouts, dropping her arms to her sides, “lead the way then, shadowsinger.”

The title rolls off her tongue, that accent swirling and dripping with charm. A small smirk on her lips as she notices his hesitation, turning his back on her still felt like a bad idea, even though he didn’t glimpse a single dagger on her, he’s sure she wouldn’t need it.

She seems fine, less tense than the night before, a mask of cool amusement and charm, yet his shadows seem concerned, upset, they’d whispered all morning. As they walk he keeps one eye on her, taking in the way she examines every surface, every turn, every nook and cranny. She was mapping out the halls in her head, memorizing the ways out, smart. If she wanted to she could shift into that magnificent hawk form and fly through the halls and off the balcony before he could even try to catch her.

They turn into the dining room, Rhys and Feyre already sat at the table. The table set for several people, Azriel assumed the rest of the court would be here soon, Cassian flying them up from the River House. Elain would stay back with little Nyx, her mate there to protect them both.

“Good morning,” Feyre says, voice reserved yet kind, “I’m Feyre.”

Y/n grants her a small smile, bowing her head slightly in greeting. She doesn’t say anything, opting to examine the room around them like she’d done in the halls, nervous. She didn’t let it show on her face, but Azriel could tell, could see the tension in her shoulders.

“Please, sit,” Rhys says, gesturing to the seats across from them, “the rest will be here shortly.”

“Should I be worried about that?” Y/n asks, her tone is light, that cool amusement hiding the faint look of panic that flashes through her eyes.

Azriel’s shadows writhe at his sides when he sees that look, something about it settles wrongly. She had nothing to fear from them, but how would she know that? Strangers who had found her vulnerable, who had tried to look into her mind, who she knew next to nothing about.

Feyre laughs lightly, “no, no, of being talked to death perhaps, but I swear, no harm will come to you.”

That seems just good enough to Y/n to coax her to sit across from Feyre, her eyes glance warily at the foods laid out between them and instead of filling her plate like the High Lord and Lady across from her she simply leans back in her seat and watches. Azriel takes the seat beside her, pointedly filling his plate with mounds of eggs and bacon and bread with jams.

She won’t eat, eat, eat, eat, she needs to eat. Shadows angrily whisper in Azriel’s ears but he forces them away as he hears the sounds of his family grow closer down the hall, Cassian’s booming laugh echoing into the room. He can see the moment Y/n tenses, her body readying for a fight that would not come.

“A rambunctious lot you’ve got here,” she says coolly, that mask of indifference slid into place.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Rhys sighs.

Cassian is the first to come through the door, followed by Nesta who rolls her eyes at her mates back.

“Is this the female who handed Azriel’s ass to him?”

The tension in Y/n’s shoulders slip every so slightly and Azriel feels himself relax too. He was prepared to leap inbetween his family and her, to protect which one he wasn’t sure.

“You say that like it’s such an impossibility,” Mor says as she and Amren step through the doorway, “I’ve seen plenty of females hand you your ass, Cassian.”

“But it’s Az,” Cass laughs, “Mister dark and broody spymaster caught off guard by the second female falling on his lap.”

“She did not fall into my lap,” Azriel sighs, “she was in the-“

“Whatever,” Cassian interrupts, waving his hand, “close enough.”

Azriel rolls his eyes at his brother’s antics, recognizing them for what they were, a way to break any tension, to make this seem like a simple breakfast instead of the interrogation it was sure to become. One glance at Y/n told him she wasn’t buying it for one second.

Her eyes travel over them all, stopping briefly on Nesta as their eyes lock. Both females had that cold stare that could freeze oceans. Though she’d given back a majority of the cauldrons power, it still lurked behind Nesta’s steely eyes, that silver fire rolling in warning. Y/n looked just as lethal, those cold eyes almost glowing with the power lurking below her skin, wether it was ice or fire, Azriel wasn’t sure he wanted to find out which she’d use first.

Nesta seemed satisfied with whatever she saw in Y/n’s eyes, grabbing her mates hand to drag him to their seats beside Feyre. Mor slipped into the seat beside Azriel, Amren taking the seat beside her.

“Well,” Rhys says with that charming grin, “now that everyone is here I’d like to introduce our lovely guest, Crown Princess of Terrasen, Y/n Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius.”

“Now that’s a mouth full.” Mor whistles as she piles her plate full of sweet pastries and fruits, “lovely to meet you, Princess.”

“Y/n will do.”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about the fangs,” Cassian says when her sharp canines peak through her lips.

Azriel keeps one eye on the female next to him as he pretended to be interested in the food on his plate. Her arms were crossed over her stomach, her mask not slipping despite the eyes weighing her down.

“What is this place?”

Rhys raises a brow at her, “would you like to eat first before we get to the nitty gritty?”

Y/n nods towards the food, “I’d like to know exactly who and what I’m dealing with before I accept food from fae I don’t know. Didn’t anyone ever teach you stranger danger?”

Eat, eat, tell her to eat. Azriel tries to quiet the shadows, getting annoyed with how insistent they were. As if she heard them, Y/n glances at him, frowning at the little wisps that stray to close to her.

Rhys looks ready to give her a sarcastic response but Feyre rolls her eyes and butts in, “you are in Velaris, the heart and soul of our territory, the Night Court.”

“You’re the leaders of this place,” Y/n states more than asks.

“High Lord and Lady, few of many on this continent,” Feyre nods, “how’d you know.”

“I’ve dealt with plenty of royals,” Y/n shrugs, “Queens and Kings, Lords and Ladies, Emperors and Empresses.”

That peaks everyone’s interest, Azriel can feel the curiosity in the air. When Quinlann had arrived, she’d been at war with the Asteri, the ruling power of her world, despite having kings and queens, they all answered to the immortal, intergalactic parasites, as Quinlann had put it. She and her mate had succeeded in ridding their planet of the monsters, but who knew where else these creatures lived.

“What is your home like?” Mor asks, the question seemingly harmless, but depending on the answer could bring a whole world of consequences.

Y/n examines her, not missing the hidden question beneath is your world a threat to our own, “much like your own it would seem. We’ve been at peace for the last 25 years. Until a gate opened up and ripped me away from my family.”

There’s the briefest change in her then, that mask slipping just enough that Azriel recognizes it, grief. She’s upset, homesick, won’t eat. It made sense now, she’d said she’d been with her father when the gate had taken her, when she’d been dumped onto a foreign land surrounded by strangers she couldn’t understand. She must have been terrified.

“Before you ask, I have no idea how or why the gate opened, or why it took me,” she continues, “it shouldn’t have been possible. None have been opened since the lock was forged during the war.”

“War?” Cassian’s brow raises in question, “what lock?”

It seems to set her back into a memory, her eyes not entirely focused on the male who’d asked, “the war against the Valg. Demons from another world who liked the taste of ours. The fight against them spanned over centuries, over multiple wars, my ancestor was able to lock the King away with a stolen object not meant for her to use, but for that there was a price demanded from the gods who’d made the lock in the first place, an heir of her blood to forge a new lock, to open a gate and send them to their true home, my mother. Queen Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, she almost died paying their price, and in the end they betrayed her anyway.”

Anger simmered in her eyes, Azriel could feel heat radiating off of her, that fire under her skin wanting to come out.

“What became of them?” Rhys asks.

She takes a moment to rein that fire in and then she meets the High Lord’s eyes, “she killed them all.”

A silence ripples through the room, her mother had killed her world’s gods. Were they like Midgard’s asteri, Prythian’s daglan, or maybe their own kind of nightmare.

“She locked the gates, fell through time and space, through hundreds of worlds, guided back by my father who would not let that mating bond slip through his fingers. When she’d come back, she had a fraction of her power left, the power that could end the valg Queen and King and save them all.”

“How did they win?” Nesta asks in the quiet that follows.

A smile, not a smirk finds Y/n’s lips and Azriel’s shadows dance towards her. He barely keeps them in check, one resting on the edge of her chair before it was reined back in. He catches the curious look sent his way by Rhys. He’d surely hear more of that later.

“My Aunt Yrene,” she says, “a healer, the valg were vulnerable to their touch, she took the evil shriveled soul of the valg King and turned him to nothing but a black stain on the floor. We put a rug over it.”

A surprised laugh slips out of Mor, “please tell me it’s hideous.”

“The tackiest thing I’ve ever seen, they let me paint on it as a child. It’s covered in bad stick figures of my uncles.”

They’d asked her questions until it was nearing lunch time. Cassian had about fallen out of his chair when she’d told them of the witches and their wyverns. From the look in Amren’s eye, Y/n knew that if she’d ever met Manon, the world would tremble in fear.

Rhys had been particularly interested in her mother’s journey through worlds, he had an uncanny feeling about it that he couldn’t quite explain. Feyre and Nesta had been shocked to learn that her mother was half human. Mor had asked her millions of questions that she could barely keep up with.

During it all, Azriel had been silent at her side. No questions on his lips but she could see the wheels turning in his head, could almost hear the whispering shadows that danced closer and closer to her every chance they got. She’d felt one drifting over her elbow for a moment before Azriel had glared right at the curious little shadow and it flew back to his side.

They’d slowly stopped their questioning and then they left one by one, Amren had left to look into this worlds knowledge on Wyrd markings and gates, Cassian and Nesta had said something about a training session, Rhys and Feyre needed to go relieve the third Acheron sister from babysitting duty and Mor had desperately wanted to see her nephew.

And just like that, it was down to Y/n and Azriel. She assumed he was still on babysitting duty, despite their apparent trust in her. She didn’t blame them for being cautious, Wyrd knows she’d not let a single one of them out of her sight if the roles were reversed.

Y/n stood stretching out her sore muscles, an involuntary groan slipping past her lips as she lifted her arms above her head. They’d been sitting there for hours and her body still aches from the events of yesterday.

“You didn’t eat anything,” his cool voice startles her, deep and slightly gravely.

She glances down at him, noting the way his eyes drag up from that small sliver of skin at her waist. The clothes we’re comfortable, yet much more revealing than anything she’d been used to. She can’t help the smirk that rests on her lips as she looks down at the handsome male, she could get used to clothes like this.

“I’m not hungry,” she shrugs, moving through the room, glancing towards the huge windows that showed the vast city far beneath them.

“You haven’t eaten since you’ve been here,” he says, eyes tracking each of her movements.

“Oh? And how would you know that,” she looks pointedly at the shadows, “I thought I told you to keep wandering eyes to yourself.”

He simply shrugs, “they do what they want.”

“Clearly.” She turns towards the door, “are you to play babysitter all day? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

She’s out the door before he’s has the chance to reply. The place was massive, she’d memorized the walk from her room to the dining hall, but the amount of halls that laid around told her she’d only seen a small portion of what the place had to offer.

“Would you care for a tour?” Azriel’s suddenly standing to her side.

“Babysitter and tour guide,” she snarks, exploring down the hall, “A double threat.”

“I’ve been told to keep any eye on you.” He looks down at her, “and that’s what I plan to do.”

“Oh I have no doubt about that.” She turns into a large living space littered with comfortable looking couches and chairs, a doorway leading to a balcony against the far wall. “I’m sure you’re a male who takes his duties very seriously.”

She moves towards that door, towards the open air beyond, Azriel following close behind. She could feel the wind beyond, begging to caress her wings, she’d shift and fly for hours and hours, maybe she could fly home.

“You could make this easy for both of us,” he says, letting a shadow block her path, “and quit trying to run away from me.”

“Now who said I was trying to run away,” she flashes an overly sweet smile over her shoulder, one that she can tell gets under his skin.

“You’re not a prisoner,” he almost growls, “but if you choose to make this harder than necessary, I have no problem tying you to a chair.”

She snorts, “Kinky, but no thank you, I’m not interested.”

He doesn’t respond, that carefully crafted expression not shifting an inch, though his shadows give him away. They writhe around him, reaching for her and pulling back over and over, like he was trying not to strangle her.

“Tell you what,” she says, “I’ll stick around you like glue if you let me go for a quick flight.”

She doesn’t hide the longing glance she gives the balcony, whenever she was stressed or upset her and her father would go flying, they would fly until she was ready to talk about what was eating at her, or until she tired herself out and he would take her home and tuck her into bed just to go fly the next morning. Y/n couldn’t think of a time she’d been more stressed than now, stuck in a foreign world with no way home, surrounded by powerful fae who she didn’t trust not to bury a dagger between her shoulders the second she turned around, depsite how kind they had been.

“Fine.”

Her eyes meet with warm hazel, surprise not hidden on her face. She would’ve thought he’d fight back harder, keeping her here, where she couldn’t fly away was safer, easier. But he’d agreed, and she gives him the first genuine smile she’d had since she’d arrived and says, “Thank you.”

He nods once, “after you.”

She’s out the door in seconds, shifting with a flash of white light, and diving over the edge of the balcony towards the city far far below.

Azriel was regretting his choice to let her fly, simply due to the fact that she was so damn fast. Despite the chill in the air, she flew over Velaris with such speed, the air biting his wings as he tried to keep up. She zigzaged over the city, following streets up and down, from the cliffs of the house all the way to the open mouth of the Sidra. They flew over the bridge into the Rainbow, the artists quarter and almost like an invisible string tugged her towards it, they ended up at one of the many amphitheaters.

Music of practicing artists flowed out, preparing for a concert later that evening, there was no single melody, a mesh of different tunes that somehow melded together into a new song of its own.

Y/n landed on a high wall of the amphitheater, that flash of light, and then she was sitting precariously on the edge, as if there wasn’t a steep drop directly behind her to the streets below. Azriel landed next to her, carefully sitting down with a comfortable distance between them. It felt wonderful to rest for a few seconds, letting the sun warm his wind chilled wings.

He watches her, the way she leans towards that music as if she couldn’t help but be drawn to it. There’s a longing look in her eyes, a sadness that cracks that carefully constructed mask to pieces. Azriel wants to comfort her, he’s overcome by the sudden need to fix whatever is wrong, but he was never good at that, so he just sits beside her, mouth firmly shut.

“One of the first things my mother did after the war was rebuild the theaters,” she says quietly after several minutes, “my earliest memory is sitting in the Queen’s box, they’d written a symphony about the final battle, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I can still hear the horn that signaled my mothers arrival.”

Azriel listened carefully, “Your mother seems to be a brave warrior.”

“She didn’t have a choice but to be,” Y/n whispers, “Most of my family didn’t.”

“You seem to be a warrior yourself,” he says, “were you given a choice.”

Her eyes don’t stray from the players below, “Yes and no, my parents insisted I train, they wanted me to be prepared for anything, I wanted to anyway, mostly because I wanted to grow up to be just like them. My father is one of the strongest fae warriors in the world, Rowan Whitethorn, soldiers talk about him around camp fires like he’s a myth. He and my uncles, his cadre, oversaw my training. My mother too, she’d once been a renowned assassin, I’d begged and fought with her to teach me everything she knew until she got sick of me and relented.”

He could see that, the way she struck fast and quietly during their first encounter, she moved with the grace of a dancer, struck with the strength of a warrior.

“Quite the family,” he says, searching for anything to lighten the mood, something Rhys or Cassian would say, “I’m sure bringing home boys was interesting.”

She laughs, and he can’t help but enjoy the sound, “you have no idea, not only do you have to impress my parents, but also the kings and queens of several nations. I made the mistake of bringing a boy home when Manon was visiting from the witch lands. She tried to introduce him to Abraxos, I don’t think I ever saw him again.”

From what they’d heard of the witch Queen, Azriel hoped the boy had just fled the kingdom, instead of becoming dinner.

She goes silent, and a shadow whispers in Azriel’s ear, she wants to go home, sad, very sad.

“Would you care to eat now?” Azriel asks, raising to his feet, “I know flying works up my appetite.”

She flashes him a saccharine smile, one that does its best to hide the pain but it can’t hide her eyes, “are you asking for a date? I thought I told you I’m not interested.”

He rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the slight twitch of his lips, “Trust me, Princess, you’re not my type either.”

She climbs to her feet, and Azriel finds that stretch of exposed skin at her waist as she turns to him, the scent of pine, snow, and embers drifting towards him on the wind.

“I’m everybody’s type.” Her tone lowers, dripping with charm, the kind that could make men and women crawl on their hands and knees. “Think you can keep up this time?”

Without warning she jumps off the back of the tall amphitheater. Azriel has a brief moment of panic, shadows whipping out to try and catch her, wings flaring as he goes to dive after her. Then, brilliant white light blinds him for a second, and that red tinged hawk shoots past him, letting out a cry that sounds suspiciously like laughter.

He swears, jumping off that ledge and shoots into the sky behind her.

#the shadows are my favorite characters by far #I like the term busybody to much #Azriel doesn’t know how to deal with feelings properly #I need them to banter more because it gives me life #acotar x reader #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #rowaelin daughter #rowaelin

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sarahs-library · 7 months

Text

Forgotten: Part Three

Azriel resolves to find answers; you try to keep from falling apart.

A/N - Finally! This week was really busy for me and all I wanted to do was get this finished. I hope you enjoy it, despite the angst. Cassian is the real star here, I absolutely loved writing his little part in this one. Any feedback is greatly appreciated!

Word count: 5,982

Part One ☪ Part Two

Forgotten Universe: Pretty Eyes

Azriel

“We really can’t put it off any longer, you know how unruly they get if left to their own devices for too long.” Azriel nodded absent-mindedly, his attention still mostly on the papers in front of him. Several months’ worth of reports had been piled on his desk by Rhys, an olive branch, something to occupy him whilst he waited out Madja’s orders of rest and recuperation. No training and no flying, not until the lingering effects of the concussion that still left him feeling weak had subsided.

After the disastrous intervention his family had staged yesterday culminated in him storming away from the table feigning a headache, he’d locked himself away in his room, preferring his solitude whilst he’d sorted through the mess of emotions. Finding sleep that night had been impossible. After hours spent tossing within the sheets and wrestling with an empty sense of wrongness he couldn’t explain, he resolved to sneak into the training room in the early hours and get through his regime before the rest of the house was stirring. His shadows alerted him to Cassian’s presence, moments before he found him only partway through his warm-up. His disappointment made Azriel feel like a chastised child, and he preferred to flee rather than confront his family’s meddling concern for his welfare.

He’d been holed up in his study ever since. Though well maintained by the House, the bound reports were old and mostly pertained to his early years as the Night Court’s spymaster. Now his preferred place of storage rather than the quiet sanctuary for work he remembered.

“You don’t have to explain it to me, Rhys, I understand.” Azriel continued to avoid his brother as he lounged in a chair opposite. He couldn’t stand to look at him, at any of his family. A constant reminder of everything he’d lost after waking. But the perfect opportunity was presenting itself, he just had to bide his time.

“I would understand if you didn’t want to come, with everything that’s happened.” Azriel still knew his brother. Knew that Rhys would rather disadvantage himself by not having him attend the Court of Nightmares than cause him distress. He also knew that Rhys would expect him to protest, to martyr himself and come anyway, for his family, his court, as he had done so many times before.

The shadows he’d sent out earlier, reluctant but reliable, began to slink back in under the closed door. They dispersed into the room, melding into their siblings hanging off the bookcase and in the archways of the windows. They heeded his silent plea to stay out of Rhys’ eyeline. Azriel touched the pads of his two scarred fingers to his forehead and closed his eyes, feigning discomfort.

The headache powder Elain had thoughtfully gifted him sat on the desk. Sweet, beautiful Elain who had paid attention to him, noticed the mannerisms he shielded with shadows and made him feel seen in a way his family never had. Who the male he’d become had seemed to snub. After tearing his room apart, he found the powder that he remembered so recently staring at as he tried to find sleep. In a drawer with broken-handled daggers and scraps of patching leather, gathering dust. Azriel met Rhys’ gaze and hoped that he wouldn’t be able to read the insincerity. He paused as if considering, before nodding in agreement.

“I think that would be best.” The slight widening of his brother’s eyes was the only sign of his surprise. “I’m sorry.” The apology was real, the guilt of manipulating Rhys lay heavy on his conscious.

“No, don’t be sorry. We understand Az. We just…We just want you to take care of yourself right now, brother.” Azriel swallowed heavily but managed to keep his face masked in unease. Rhys deserved better than this. His shadows thickened around him, sensing his emotional turmoil and desire to hide away. Rhys rose and leaned over the desk before clasping Azriel on the shoulder. He could feel the warmth of his brother’s hand through the dark dress shirt he wore. The affection on his face, so open and expressive now that Feyre had entered their lives, only served to make Azriel fall deeper into the pit of his self-loathing.

“We’ll be back this evening, Nesta will stay behind at the House with you in case you need anything.” His shadows affirmed that she was in the library a few floors below, engrossed in her latest smutty romance novel. It would be hours before she deigned to come back to reality, more than enough time for him to accomplish his task.

“I’ll finish reading these reports.” A tried-and-true tactic, Rhys had always understood Azriel’s need to use his work to buffer and evade situations that made him feel uncomfortable. He couldn’t let it go though, not completely. Not when Azriel was a shell of the male he’d been just a week before. The change had been gradual, Rhys couldn’t pinpoint when his brother had become happier in life, and more open in displaying his affection. Or at least less inclined to shroud himself in shadows. “Join us for dinner tonight?” The silence that followed was heavy.

Maybe it was the guilt, but Azriel found himself angling his head in acquiescence. Amethyst eyes brightened and Rhys nodded, accepting that Azriel was at least trying at some semblance of normalcy. Stepping away, Rhys resolved to dedicate himself to bringing his brother back to them, back to you, to the babe whose birth was fast approaching. The surge of power as he winnowed back to the River House left a lingering essence in the room. Azriel exhaled slowly, excitement and nervousness building in tandem as he realised the plan he set in motion was coming to fruition.

The shadows descended now, curling up to wait to relay the information. You found her? He asked; a chorus of voices relaying their affirmation. Where?

Rising from the chair behind the desk, straightening the papers into neat piles before glancing one last time at the small pot of powder, he returned to his bedroom. The door to the balcony hung ajar, letting in a cool morning breeze. He slipped through and climbed onto the edge overlooking Velaris. Stretching out the stiff muscles of his wings he gave a few precursory beats before launching himself off the balcony into a free fall over the city. His wings caught him in a gentle glide as he neared the rockface below and leveled out, carefully he prolonged riding the updraft as much as he could before he started to fly. The beats were slow, just enough to keep him a respectful distance from the city skyline but not enough to draw attention should Nesta decide to look out the window.

He followed the winding path of the Sidra through the city and reached the house nestled in the outskirts in a matter of minutes. There were no signs of activity, but his shadows had confirmed she was there. Circling the structure he tipped into his descent, heavy boots hitting cobbled stone as he landed in the lush gardens.

Your POV

You gripped the mug tightly between your hands, savouring the warmth seeping through the porcelain as you blew gently causing craters in the hot tea. As exhausted and emotional as you had been last night, sleep had eluded you long into the early morning. You’d managed a few fitful hours, but the gnawing emptiness Azriel’s absence left could not be abated. Separated only by the city of Velaris, you felt as though you may have been on separate worlds.

The babe you carried, so active now in the last stages of your pregnancy, had greeted the morning with a symphony of limbs played against your ribs. But it seemed that even they had stopped for the beauty of the sunrise over the skyline. You rubbed fondly against your abdomen, trailing a thumb over a small rounded bony prominence. The heel of a foot or the curved apex of a wing.

Your eyes moved from the window to take in the nursery in the dawning light. A Pegasus, poised to take flight hovered on the wall by the small planet in one of the corners of the galaxy mobile. Home. You hadn’t thought seriously about your world in centuries, the one left behind as fire and brimstone destroyed everything you once had. You considered how your life would be different if you had never been forced to flee, to lead a nomadic existence through the stars.

You started as you heard the flapping wing beats that circled the house, descending lower before a pair of boots thudded against the stone. Abandoning the mug, you braced your arms to haul yourself out of the rocking chair in the nursery’s corner, cursing the sheer size your abdomen had grown to and how it restricted even the most basic of movements. Your feet were quick against the floor of the hall and as you began your descent of the stairs, leaning back to accommodate the additional weight that threw off your centre of gravity.

A heavy knock on the door made you more breathless than the sudden burst of activity. Your heart swelled.

“I’m coming!” Smiling as you called out. You faltered slightly when you heard the response.

“Hurry up! It’s freezing out here.” Cassian. The excitement that had bubbled in your chest died, hitting your stomach and leaving a leaden feeling in its wake. You were still on the stairs, taking a moment to collect yourself before you continued the down, moving much slower this time.

You made it to the bottom slightly out of breath, making sure to school your features before reaching out to open the front door. Cassian stood, a solid mass of muscle and a wide grin, grasping a crinkled paper bag in one of his mammoth hands. You couldn’t help returning him a small smile which soon died as you considered his unscheduled appearance.

“Is everything okay? Is it..Is it Az?” You knew Feyre and the others had spoken to him, tried to explain to him this new world he’d woken up to. She had confided in you last night that it hadn’t gone according to plan, that there hadn’t been the opportunity to convey more than basic information before he’d fled. She’d been apologetic, promising to try to see if she could get through to him, asking if there was anything you needed before returning to the River House.

“Oh. No, no, he’s fine. Well, I caught him trying to train this morning against Madja’s orders but that’s just Az being predictable.” Cassian shifted his weight and looked down at the bag he cradled like it held something precious. “The bakery across from the Sidra, the one that sells the hazelnut croissants. Az said that he was picking them up for you every morning after training. That you’d been cravin’ ‘em, so here.” He held the bag, heavy with sweet-smelling pastries, out across the threshold to you. Tears pricked the back of your eyes as you reached for them, meeting Cassian sheepish grin as he took in the emotion displayed clearly on your face.

“Thank you.” It was a near whisper, but you managed to get the words around the lump that had formed in your throat. The hulking male shrugged it off as if to say it was nothing. You swallowed before speaking again. “You hungry?” His grin widened, taking on a lupine quality as he scoffed and stepped over the threshold at the invitation.

“Like you need to ask."

Azriel

The cloying, sweet smell rising from the uniform beds of roses tickled his nose. Morning dew clinging to the blades of grass left trails of shining wetness on the leather of his shoes. The wrought iron garden table held a pot of steaming tea, a clear glass sticky with the remnants of juice, and two plates dusted with crumbs. Shadows directed him towards the bottom of the garden and Azriel's heart raced with anticipation as he thought about seeing her again.

She knelt on a towel with her back to him, gloveless hands digging into damp soil. Azriel took a moment to admire how the cut of the lavender dress exposed the gentle curve of her shoulders. An errant lock of hair hung forward, swinging with her movements and he longed to pull it back behind her ear and trace his fingers against the soft skin of her neck, feeling her warmth beneath his fingertips.

“Elain.” She started, pulling her hands from the dirt and turning to face him. Her eyes widened in surprise and her lips parted slightly.

“Azriel, what are you doing here? Madja said you needed to rest.” He drew closer to where she still knelt frozen in the grass.

“I couldn’t stay away, I had to see you.” She shifted her weight, rising to her feet quickly. The hem of her dress brushed against the grass as she took several steps away from his advance, the lavender darkening from the wetness. “Please.” Elain stopped her retreat at his plea.

“Azriel…” She was beautiful, even as her brows furrowed in concern. Azriel wanted to take her face between his hands, wanted to bare his soul and promise to do anything, be anything that she needed.

“You can’t deny this Elain, what’s here between us. You feel it, I know you do. And the Solstice, I know what I said but…It’s not what I meant. It was Rhys, he was concerned about the bond you share with Lucian, about the repercussions of me courting you.”

Elain sighed, “I know that Azriel. You may not remember, but I do.”

"I remember the Solstice,” she continued. “I remember what you said. But I also remember the way you looked at me, the way you touched me. I remember the way you made me feel."

Elain paused, her eyes meeting Azriel's. “And I remember being happy in those months after, happy with you.” Azriel's heart swelled with hope. “But it...We didn’t work Azriel, not like that.”

“What do you mean?” Azriel asked, seeming to deflate under Elain’s gaze. “If we were happy…”

“We were. Initially at least. But being mated to Lucien, even though I hadn’t accepted the bond, strained us. You’ve always struggled with feelings of inadequacy, no matter what I did it wasn’t enough, not to help you get past that.” He’d realised, when he spoke with Rhys on the Solstice, that he hadn’t considered a life with Elain outside the moments he stole before sleep. After he had, the life he’d built in his mind hadn’t factored in her continued bond with Lucien.

“We both wanted each other for the wrong reasons.” She continued, Azriel’s hope morphed into a sick sense of dread. “I wanted control, to be able to dictate something in my life that wasn’t because of the Cauldron. And you were chasing what Rhys and Cassian have.” Elain’s words gave free rein to all the thoughts of inadequacy, an open invitation for the dark whispers of self-deprecation to taunt and tease and belittle him for expecting anything else, for expecting more. Of course, he couldn’t have what his brothers had; he didn’t deserve it.

Elain’s eyes were knowing, as if she could follow the train of insecurities his thoughts had taken. She closed the distance between them, her features radiant and softened with compassion. She reached out and took his hand, hidden by his side in a whirlpool of shadows, gently clasping it between her own. She had never shied away from his hands; it was one of the things that enamoured Azriel to her.

“The decision to end our relationship was a mutual one. I think we both recognised that we couldn’t make our relationship what either of us truly needed.” Azriel no longer looked at her face, but where their hands touched. His skin was imperfect from the path the flames left, hers was torn and dirty from the garden. All he had wanted since the Solstice was to feel her touch. Now, as her palms cradled his own, an unexpected wave of instinct that screamed it was the wrong pair of hands made itself known. Azriel forced it back.

“I know that I need you, Elain. You and I understand each other. We could make this work; I know that too.” Elain smiled at him. Not in relief or joy, but the kind of smile that is given when you indulge someone.

“There are no second chances for us. This is all temporary, what you feel for me. Once you remember you will-“Azriel couldn’t stop himself from interrupting her, addressing the memory that had burned under his skin since their lips had touched.

“You kissed me back.”

“You surprised me. It wasn’t…Azriel I understand that you’re scared but…” Trailing off, she sucked a deep breath in between her teeth. He tore his gaze away from their hands to fix on her face and was surprised to see anger waiting for him there.

“It was a mistake, Azriel.” And there Elain was, throwing back the words he’d said to her at the Solstice. “If you could see the way you’re acting right now, you’d be horrified.” She ripped her hands from his and took a step back. The sudden loss of contact had the warmth her skin had left on his cooling in the morning breeze. Azriel felt mournful at the loss, but any emotion seemed to pale in comparison to the gaping chasm of emptiness that still sat behind his sternum.

A shriek of joy broke the tension between them. Azriel tensed, taken off-guard. His shadows had been unusually quiet, they often disappeared completely in Elain’s presence, but since he woke up he was finding them to be downright uncooperative. They hadn’t alerted him of anyone else’s presence in the gardens. Instinct drove his hand to his thigh as he turned towards the sound. A boy with a mop of dark unruly hair barrelled towards him, wings flapping in excitement. In an outstretched hand spearheading his charge was a battered wooden sword.

Azriel reacted on instinct, shifting his weight to remain standing as the boy threw his arms around his thighs. Hazel eyes met blue-grey, a perfect replica of his High Lady’s. The boy's cheeks were flush from activity, and a wide toothy smile shone from his face as he looked up at Azriel.

Nyx.

Rhys had said he was perfect. Looking at the small joy-filled child a distant part of Azriel agreed. But seeing him, this obvious reminder of the time he had lost was so much worse than looking at the expectant faces of his family.

“You’re back!” His face was still pressed against the soft leather covering Azriel’s thighs. Azriel returned the child’s embrace by placing a hand on his small shoulder, moving slowly and half-expecting the child to flinch away. Nyx didn’t. Instead, his grin seemed to grow impossibly wider, such open displays of affection nurtured in an upbringing that he and his brothers had only dreamed of. Nyx released Azriel’s legs, toy sword still gripped in one hand as he announced without preamble that they were going to play together.

Your POV

You followed the cobblestone path next to the Sidra deeper into the heart of the city. The light coat you wore protected you from the chill in the air as you buried your hands deeper into your pockets. The sun offered little warmth to your face but you basked in the feeling. As beautiful as the seasons were in Velaris, the bleakness winter promised often had you yearning for warmer climes.

It was still early but the city was beginning to bustle with activity, you watched as vendors began opening stalls to display their wares. Observed the groups of people clustered around tables tucked near the rails shielding them from the steep drop of the river’s bank, enjoying steaming drinks and warm food. The breakfast you’d shared with Cassian, all wide grins, bad jokes, and dancing around the elephant in the room, had left you in better spirits than you had expected. Still, seeing all the residents of the city going about their business coursed envy through your veins.

You hadn’t realised you’d stopped and were staring, paying particular attention to a couple at one of the tables. The male, dark-haired with tan skin and high cheekbones, leaned closer to whisper into the female's ear, delicately moving loose hair aside for easier access. She tipped her head to the sky as she laughed, carefree. This couple, these strangers, so open in their happiness and displays of affection loosened the careful hold you’d been maintaining on your emotions, and for a moment you felt as if you’d be washed away. Anger, guilt, and sadness all warred within you. It had been waging since you’d found Azriel and Elain together only yesterday. And underneath it all, a despair that would cripple you if given the chance.

A lone shadow, the one that had been racing ahead cleaving an inquisitive path through the street, danced into your eyeline. There once was a time when one straying so close to your face would cause you to instinctively flinch away in surprise. In the early days of your friendship, Azriel had kept them on a tight leash that had been exhausting to maintain out of fear of scaring you away. Now, after years of cohabitation, you’d grown used to their proclivities and peculiarities. Their cool brush was almost as familiar and comforting as the feeling of Azriel’s warm, scarred hands. It swirled in front of your face now, its movements jerky, verging on agitated, and though they couldn’t speak to you it was clear what they were trying to convey. You were going to be late.

Closing your eyes and taking a few deep, calming breaths you tried to force the emotion back. A hand moved on autopilot out of the depth of your pocket to slip between the buttons of your coat, fingertips resting on the swell of your midriff over warm wool. You could control this, you decided.

One summer night, childfree and enjoyed under the stars whilst sharing a bottle of wine, Feyre had shared the circumstances of her own pregnancy with you. How she’d made a seemingly impossible decision to you at the time, to carry on because she did not want her son to experience anything other than love whilst sequestered in her womb. Now you found yourself vowing the same, that your emotional turmoil would not impact the life growing inside of you.

Resolved, you turned away to continue your journey through the streets, guided by the shadow that weaved in between other pedestrians, just skirting their notice. After a few minutes, you came to a stop outside the warm and brightly lit shop. The medicinal smell of herbs leaked under the door and into the street. The shadow had already disappeared under the frame, scouting ahead for any sign of danger. It returned to you almost lazily, coiling up dark wood towards the handle of the door in invitation.

You clasped a hand over the knob, shadow dancing over your fingers as you pushed open the door. A bell tinkled above your head announcing the arrival of a customer. Dark-stained wood lined the floor of the shop, and a counter full of books and candles sat before massive shelves full of various jars and decanters.

“I would have come to you, child.” Madja’s form appeared in the doorframe to her examination room at the back of the shop.

“I know.” You bristled a little at her referring to you as such. “I had to get out of the house.” You eyed her warily, still not entirely comfortable around the high-fae female. Though you knew Feyre held no ill feelings towards her, you had been incredibly reluctant to allow her to be involved in the care of your pregnancy, citing her blatant disregard for Feyre’s body autonomy. It was only her experience with Illyrian babes that made you acquiesce.

“You’re alone.” It wasn’t a question. There was a marked note of disapproval in Madja’s tone. You had considered briefly asking Cassian to accompany you during breakfast. He’d shared Rhy’s plans for their visit to the Hewn City but had stressed that he would stay behind with you if necessary. But the idea of bringing anyone other than your mate here made you feel worse than the prospect of attending alone. So you’d lied to Cassian, told him you planned on relaxing and organising a few things in the baby’s room and that you didn’t want to bore him with that. He’d been quick to reassure you, but you’d pushed him to go, knowing that Rhys and Feyre relied on him for their games in court posturing.

Azriel had never missed an appointment. For every progress check, every measurement, every sweet cooling sweep of Madja’s magic across your abdomen he’d sat dutifully by your side, tracing gently patterns on the back of the hand he’d gripped in his own. Remembering the way his face lit up, the tears of joy that lined his hazel eyes as Madja informed you that the babe was healthy and your pregnancy was progressing well made the empty chasm in your chest ache.

“Not completely.” You gestured vaguely to the rogue shadow that had accosted you when you’d tried to leave the house this morning, now snaking between jars of brightly coloured poultices and dried ingredients lining the shelves.

She gestured for you to follow her into the room at the back, shutting the door behind you and your shadow companion. You began to shrug off your coat, hanging it on the hook by the door. The examination table creaked under your weight as you hoisted one leg on, wiggling yourself back until your back was flush against the rest. Madja’s wrinkled face was impassive as she watched you struggle. She lowered herself into the chair next to you, lifting the jumper to expose your abdomen. The room was heated with her magic, for which you were thankful.

“How are you feeling?” You kept your eyes on her hands as they moved over the swell of your stomach, skimming over the darker map of marks left by your skin stretching to accommodate. You loved and hated those lines.

“Just fatigued more than anything else.” Madja made a noise of agreement at the back of her throat. She didn’t ask a follow-up question, in the silence you found yourself offering up more information. “I’m hungry all the time. And my feet are so swollen it’s difficult to put on shoes.” The shadow had made its way onto the examination table next to you, it watched Madja’s hands as you did. It strayed closer to where your hands lay clasped, resting on the edge of your stomach just under your breasts. It perched there, half weaving between your fingers and half observing.

“And?” The feel of her magic wasn’t unpleasant, but the longer you stayed under her touch the more uncomfortable you became. Instinct urged you to get away from under her hands, as harmless as they seemed, to put more distance between her and the babe than just the thin layer of skin and organs. You clenched your teeth, on edge as the examination continued.

“And what?” You knew what she was probing for, to discuss Azriel.

“Your mate, girl. Don’t play stupid. I want to know how you’re handling the stress of this situation. I don’t need to tell you that it isn’t good for the babe.” Your eyes strayed from her hands for a moment, meeting brown before averting them again. You wanted to be anywhere but here. And you certainly didn’t want to be discussing this with the spindrift-haired fae.

“I’m fine.” She scoffed at that. Her hands finally stilled, pulling away from you. Tugging the jumper back down, you swung your legs around perching on the edge of the examination table. You picked at the nail of your thumb, anxiety starting to build.

“There are no medals for a brave face.”

“How are things?” She allowed the diversion. Her pause prompted you to finally look at her. Madja’s face remained impassive. Panic started to set in, its tight grip made it difficult for you to suck in your next breath. You and Azriel had known this pregnancy wouldn’t be without risk, but you’d thought the similarities of physique and bone density you shared with the Illyrians would shield you against major complications.

“You’re progressing well,” Madja said. “Only a few more weeks, I expect.” You released the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, relief flooding through you. It was short-lived as Madja opened her mouth to speak again.

“I am however concerned about you.”

“I’m fine.” Perhaps if you said it aloud enough you could make yourself believe it. It seemed that Madja wasn’t going to allow that though, incredulity written on her face.

“If that’s all you’re going to say girl, we’ll get nowhere.” You held your tongue against informing her to mind her own business, knowing that Rhys held a particular soft spot for the ancient fae and wouldn’t take kindly to you insulting her. “You’re…situation,” she paused briefly, feeling the fire developing in your gaze as she pushed. “The stress increases the risk of preterm labour.” You nodded, continuing to pick at your fingernail. “I know of healers, ones that specialise in the mind. I could-“

You cut her off before she could finish. “I don’t need a healer, I just need my mate,” voice breaking on the last word as traitorous tears brewed at the line of your lashes. Madja reached out a wrinkled hand to clasp your own, her skin warm above yours, her face sympathetic.

“It could help, acknowledging our emotions gives them less power over us.” The idea of explaining to a stranger the events of the past few days filled you with dread. The agony of watching Azriel collapse bleeding on the steps of the River House, of tugging on the bond only to find strands that led to nowhere as you had pleaded for him to wake up. Your mate, usually so strong and unyielding, seemed almost fragile as Rhys and Cassian had manhandled him into the House. Sitting at his bedside after, watching each breath he took as he slumbered, every shift of the babe inside you filled you with fresh grief. You’d told him everything, every mundane thought that passed through your head as you tried to distract yourself from the thought that Azriel may never wake up and meet his child.

And you’d been so tired, with the pregnancy and sitting dutifully at Azriel’s bedside, that when Elain had offered to relieve you to get some rest you’d felt grateful. You couldn’t have predicted what happened when he woke. The likelihood of him reacting favourably to someone he considered to be a stranger at his sick bed was absurd. Still the guilt gnawed at you; if you’d stayed perhaps things wouldn’t have turned out as disastrously as they had.

“No.” You considered for a moment, before adding a thank you as an afterthought. Madja sighed, exasperated.

“Well, if you’re unwilling to do that then you must promise to take it easy. Bed rest, no magic.” The thought of languishing your time away in the house alone irked you, but it was more agreeable than the alternative. You inclined your head in agreement.

Azriel

The tension in the room was palpable, and Azriel couldn't decide which was worse: the fury etched across Rhys' face or the wounded hurt concealed beneath. A dark power coiled behind Rhys's desk, while Feyre's portrait watched from above, her eyes twinkling with mischief. In the hallowed confines of Rhys's study, Azriel couldn't help but be reminded of a similar, scolding conversation, one where Rhys had warned him to stay away from Elain.

"And if I catch you panting after her again," Rhys had said, "I'll make sure you regret it."

Now, once more, his brother was fuming over Azriel's dalliance with her. And as in the past, when faced with his brother's wrath, Azriel donned his well-practiced mask of ice, a facade carefully crafted in the darkness and shadows of his childhood.

Rhys' voice, as sharp as a blade, pierced the stillness of the room. "What in the world are you thinking?" Azriel felt a surge of cold rage in response, but Rhys remained unyielding. He had always understood the volatile undercurrent beneath Azriel's surface and was adept at meeting it with his own resolute strength.

"Madja ordered you to rest.” Rhys continued. “Not only did you defy her orders, but you also lied to me.” Azriel broke the eye contact he’d been holding, loathing himself for the deception. “I find you here, pestering Elain when she made it abundantly clear she wants nothing to do with you.”

"I had to," Azriel protested, his voice tinged with stubbornness.

Rhys sighed, gesturing around the room. "This," he said, encompassing Azriel, "all of it is temporary. We will find a way to heal you and restore your memories. In the meantime, if you could refrain from setting your life ablaze, it would be greatly appreciated."

Azriel's gaze hardened, his reluctance evident. "I can't just forget her, Rhys. You know I can't.”

Rhys paused for a moment; his eyes filled with compassion. Then, he played his last card. " Az, I understand how hard this is for you, but you also have responsibilities. You have a mate, one who carries your child. I can't stand by and watch you ruin things now, only to hate yourself later when you regain your memories.”

A whirlwind of conflicting emotions churned within Azriel. The burden of his forgotten memories weighed heavily on his shoulders, and it was a struggle to reconcile his past self with the man he had become. He couldn't help but feel a profound sense of loss for the memories that had been stolen from him. Loss of Elain, of the history they’d shared together. But the thought of having a mate he couldn’t recall, someone whom he so obviously shared a life with, was both a source of guilt and deep frustration. It was as though he had been robbed of a part of himself.

His thoughts swirled with questions and doubts about the nature of their relationship, about Elain. These questions gnawed at him, a relentless reminder he was living a life that he couldn’t recognise as his own, despite being surrounded by his family.

Azriel clenched his jaw, his reluctance growing stronger. “You're just going to leave your child without a father?" Rhys' voice was firm, and Azriel felt the weight of the responsibility.

"Of course not," Azriel replied, his tone strained.

"So you'll what, meet her during the birth? After the babe's born?" Rhys pressed.

Azriel hesitated before saying, "She's a stranger, Rhys. I can't just pretend everything is normal when I don't even know who she is."

The room remained shrouded in an oppressive silence, the unspoken weight of their conversation bearing down on them. Azriel's reluctance and frustration grappled with Rhys' unwavering insistence, and the seconds ticked by in limbo. It was then, amidst the heavy tension, that Rhys's voice broke the impasse.

"So meet her," Rhys said, his words soft yet unwavering.

Azriel blinked, taken aback by the simplicity of Rhys' suggestion. His eyes locked onto his brother's. "What?"

"Meet her," Rhys repeated with quiet determination. "And she won't be a stranger."

The clarity of Rhys' statement struck Azriel like a revelation. He had been so consumed by the paralyzing fear of the unknown and the torment of his stolen memories that he hadn't contemplated the possibility of forging new connections.

Thank you for reading, to everyone who asked to be added to the tag-list I think I've included everyone I can but some blogs I couldn't tag so apologies if that's yours.

Tag list: @kalulakunundrum @impossibelle @we-were-beautiful @going-through-shit @mulansaucey @sv0430 @naturakaashi @amygdtjhddzvb @airstrip-0 @acourtofsmutandstarlight @myheartfollower @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @valencia-rou @amysangel @furiousbooklover @phoenixgurl030 @imnotsiriusyouare @i-am-infinite @cat-or-kitten @marvelouslovely-barnes @gretavanbobatea @tothestarsandwhateverend @furiousbooklover @esposadomd @meritxellao @kemillyfreitas @juneangel21 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @luvmoo @originalcrusadetrash @mandowhatnow @bangtanbecks @bookslut420 @goldenmagnolias @inkedaztec @opheliaas-stuff @spongehappy @oingo233 @unstablefemme

#azriel x reader #acotar x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x female!reader #azriel x oc #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster

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lovemomhatepolice · 13 days

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lando norris nswf alphabet (part 2!) (minors DNI!)

navigation taglist requests

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) There is no chance that Lando will ever in his life ask you for anal sex or agree to it. NO CHANCE. Ever since he first heard about it in his life, it has disgusted and disturbed him so much at the same time that he stands away.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Well, don't tell me Lando doesn't look like a munch. Totally do. Okay, he's also a big fan of you on your knees in front of him, until it takes his breath away as he looks at you all smeared with his cum with a wide smile and trained lips. But oh boy! Sam sometimes begs you to lie down in front of him and let him give you pleasure. The biggest plus is that Lando is well trained in this. Damn knows where he acquired such skills, but they are unearthly.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Fast, but not violent. It's already in Lando's nature to speed everything up, but it's not painful in the process. With the rest, slow sex is not for you. Well, I beg you, where would all the fun be? The whole process is a little slower when Lando finally pushes you to the wall and your relationship is not in any comfortable place, but he continues to try to keep his cool.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) You love quickies. What more can be said here? You can't keep your hands off each other, so every possible opportunity to get even closer is even advisable. You definitely prefer it more, of course, when you have more time (and, most importantly, space), but when there is no such chance, quick fun together is fine for you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Norris has it in him that he likes to take risks - he doesn't spare himself from hot kisses with you in public or even light pinches or pats on your buttocks. But if the matter comes down to sex, I don't think he's taking too many risks. Lando respects his privacy after all, so sexual matters remain between you. Possibly in front of the whole club when you come out of the restroom quite smudged and giggly. Or in front of his family, well. What goes in the family doesn't die, right?

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) As much as you want. Really. Lando I think is pretty darn sturdy and can fly several rounds at a time, which is no surprise to you. More than once, with light breaks, you spent the whole night like that. Sometimes it would even start to dawn and you would be in each other's naked embrace, the hot temperature of the room and a mass of giggles.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) No, he doesn't own any toys. He just doesn't have any - he's not a contrarian, he himself even bought his friend an inflatable doll for his birthday. In your relationship he would sooner use some on you, so 100%, if you own a vibrator, Lando will reach for it at some point and see how it works on you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Lando is so damn teasing! Once he will rub up against you, once he will "accidentally" touch you somewhere, once he will whisper such ungodly things to you, and then he will leave without a word. And during sex? I beg to differ. If only he has the strength to do so, he will interrupt until the last moment before your climax, just to hear your voice admonishing him in the midst of your moans.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Ay Lando is loud. In every possible aspect of his life, so in bed too. If he doesn't talk during sex, you definitely won't have it quietly anyway. Norris often giggles, and when he's not giggling, he's pretty darn vocal. Oj this boy is definitely not afraid to moan and show that he feels like heaven thanks to you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) He loves, well he so much loves to brand you. He gets the same way when you bestow a hickey on his neck. Raspberries on your breasts? That's the standard. In summer it's hard to hide the signs of love from Lando under dresses and short tops. But that's what he loves. He proudly shows off whether it's his neck or his chest.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Well I think above average. Although Lando is not some particularly tall and massive, that's what his advantage is. I'm telling you that there's something about his pants that you don't expect ;P

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) God. Huge. As I mentioned before - you can't take your hands off each other. If you could, you would fuck each other every day. No matter what way - any way would be good. That's why yes, the sex drive Lando threw up when he first met you. And no matter what you do or what you're wearing! Remember

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Ay, it depends on the moment. Anyone who knows Lando knows well that he happens to fall asleep in the least expected places and circumstances. This is also the case after your sex, but by the fact that there are a lot of emotions in between, he has to talk them out first, and only then can he go to sleep. After proper after care on your part and his, you both fall asleep in each other's embrace (Lando on your breasts)

A/N: part one if you miss it, english is my second language i will be very pleased if you leave something behind - orders are open, and I am very close to 200 followers! maybe I can get in by the end of the week?

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

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bountycancelled · 5 months

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how bada would handle being in public with her s/o

requested: yep!

genre + content: headcanons, gn!reader, me being delusional, lower case intended (I'm annoying, I know and im sorry), unedited because I can't be bothered

warnings: none i believe, just fluff!

I still don't really understand the term, but I think I could describe a romantic relationship with bada as 'private but not a secret.'

she wouldn't want to keep you a secret, but she's also aware of the strife being in the public eye can cause, so how much/how little she reveals about the relationship is completely up to you.

and believe me, she tries so hard to keep her mouth shut about you, but sometimes it proves a bit too difficult.

hell, your relationship being revealed to the public was a complete and utter accident. bada was on instagram live as usual, and one of the comments had asked her for a tmi. she thought for a moment, before remembering that you had gifted her the very hoodie that she was wearing.

bada didn't even notice the comments going absolutely batshit at the mention of her having a partner, too focused on how much the hoodie smelled like you.

cue a now wide eyed bada watching a myriad of comments shocked at her statement fly in at lighting speed, as she slowly realises what she just said.

you bet your ass that she ended the live at that moment, entering to your shared apartment and flopping onto you immediately, squeezing any part of you that her hands could reach, she needed the comfort right now. when you ask her what happened, she begs you to promise to not get upset (which can't be promised but you do it anyway to ease her mind)

she realises a statement of sorts on her instagram, asking for the respect of her fans for your relationship and turns off her phone after posting it, cuddling with you and trying to sleep the day away.

from then on, you and bada start going out together more frequently, since you're no longer so well hidden anymore, you might as well enjoy this new found freedom. fans and paparazzi being outside of any location that bada is in is a given, but its still alot for you to take in.

bada always has a hand on you when you're out together, she just needs to know that you're close and that you're okay. whether it be a hand a hand on your waist or shoulders, a hand around your wrist or holding yours, it eases her. but she prefers you walking in front of her so she can have you in her vision also so she can check you out, two birds, one stone

call her a bit possessive (and you'd be correct) but she also likes when you wear something of hers over your outfit when you're in public, like a hoodie or a jacket.

as for interviews, she mentions you passively, usually by accident once again. but she will never take the bait if an interviewer tries to pry into the deeper parts of your relationship. she values intimacy with you far too much.

overall, your relationship is sacred to bada, and she earnestly tries to keep it under wraps as much as possible, although she may not be the best at that, since she also desperately wants to show you off. so basically, you get the best of both worlds.

#bada lee x reader #bada x reader #bada imagine #bada #bada lee fic #bada lee fanfiction #bada lee smut #bada lee x y/n #bada lee #bada lee swf #swf2 x reader #bada lee swf2 #swf2 #bada angst #bada fanfic #bada lee fluff

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banggyu0308 · 10 months

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genre: internet strangers to lovers, idol au, smut

warnings: nsfw under the cut, not very coherent, slutty yeonjun, dom!yeonjun, sexting, choking kink, pet names (baby), praise, drinking (they don't get THAT drunk, alright guys?), one night stand-ish, degradation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, handholding, cursing, dacryphilia, yeonjun lurks on social media TT, reader is bold ASF, not proofread

wc: 2.5k+

an: tysm for the username help @itgirlgyu TT + this is just for the delulus + @beomsl MEL YOU REMEMBER WHEN WE TALKED ABT PART OF THIS???? + i might title this later but who knows!!

taglist: @full-sunnies , @agustdiv1ne

yeonjun who likes to wear his tank tops to show off, loves heading onto moa twitter and tumblr after lives just to see the fandom having a meltdown... especially hard stan social media, watching all the comments and photos of himself show up. he likes being in control like this, having the power to make everyone else go crazy just by wearing something else that day.

he scrolls and scrolls and one specific post pops up, it's community labeled and when he clicks 'keep reading', he can see why; pretty tits on display from the original poster, comments in the tags all about how she's all his, and he's not very surprised to feel himself growing hard in his pants. yeonjun eyes the username, ready to click the blue-fonted 'follow' button, but it's already gone, and his eyes widen to see that it's an account he's been following and interacting with for a while. that fact only makes it better, and he's clicking to his chat with you before he can even think it through what he's about to do.

yawnchoi you look really pretty in that new post...

yn what can i say? yeonjun brings out a special part of me 😭

yawnchoi im very sure he feels the exact same

yn in my dreams 😭 don't fuel my deluluness

yawnchoi i'm being very serious right now

yn mhm mhm sureeee and how would YOU know? 😑

yawnchoi ajksdbwsjdhbw maybe this wasn't a good idea

yn WHAT wasn't a good idea, hm? 🤨

yawnchoi baby all i'm trying to do is figure out how to word that i'm yeonjun 😭

yn i do not believe you for one moment

yawnchoi i'll send a pic that i would never, ever post and you can even reverse image search it or whatever or i could send a video, im not messing around baby

yn go ahead then ;-;

yawnchoi [sent a photo]

yn alright so yeonjun would definitely never post a photo of him in his boxers in bed so imma need that video 🙏

yawnchoi [sent a video]

yn oh. oh holy shit choi yeonjun has seen my tits- NOT ONLY HAS HE SEEN MY TITS HE LIKES THEM- one sec imma need to process haha im totally not hyperventilating haha

yn alright im back hi haha

yawnchoi helloooo 👋

yn wow. alright. so. uh. how do i ask this- you wanna see more tit pics?

yawnchoi THAT WAS SO BOLD HELP ME- but yes pleaseeee

yn [sent a photo]

yawnchoi oh baby- holy shit you're so pretty 🥺

yn thanks jjunie kwsnbdwjkd im still like- going crazy rn yawnchoi thats cute baby :((

yn wjhbswhjdhj so- since you've seen my tits i wanna see you again :(( preferably your dick but haha

yawnchoi yeah? pretty baby wants to see my dick?

yn kjwbshwjdbhe yes please?

yawnchoi asking so nicely... alright baby~ [sent a photo]

yn oh 😳 oh fuck alright sjbdsewjh wanna touch :((

yawnchoi me or yourself, baby?

yn well, both, but only one can happen, right? so me-

yawnchoi go ahead, can i see? yn alright 😳 [sent a video]

yawnchoi baby's so pretty :(( wanna see you cum for me <3

yn [sent a video] would be better if you were here :( want you to touch me so bad wjbwjhdbe

yawnchoi can fly you into korea if you want...

yn YOU'RE KISSING *KIDDING

yawnchoi i'm notttttttt dekjbdekj pretty cunt's got me all horny :((

yn i don't even care if it's a one night stand choi fucking yeonjun's gonna fly me out to korea to fuck me heck yeah

---------------------------------

and he does. books a flight last minute for the next day, from your country to seoul, puts on a pair of sunglasses and his least conspicuous outfit, and drives to the airport. he isn't THAT nervous- it's not like he thinks you're gonna murder him.

and when you walk out of the airport building with nothing but a backpack with you, looking around and waving slightly when you see him, his heart quickens just a little. (and NOT just because he's seen you naked).

you decide to sit in the back of his car for no reason other than you want to, and maybe a little bit because you can't exactly handle looking at him straight on quite yet.

to your surprise, there's no awkward small talk, just him getting straight to the point and saying all the members are out of the dorm currently, but, ever the gentleman, he says since you flew a long way, you can sleep a little bit first and he won't bother you.

your whole body is on alert and you find yourself thinking that there's no way you'd be able to sleep now. it's one thing to sext someone knowing they're an idol- another to actually be in the car with them, on your way to where they live, and knowing you're going to actually fuck them.

yeonjun politely takes your bag when you get out of the car, and when his fingers wrap around the strap, his hand brushes yours slightly. you internally feel like you might faint- you hadn't actually prepared yourself for this, and now he was touching you and he feels real and you knew he was real but now it just feels extra.

holding your bag, he opens the door to the dorm, leading you in before following, taking you into his room and placing your bag down on the floor next to his bed. every single action that takes him closer to you makes your face grow hot, the bed dipping slightly under your weight when you sit down. the sheets are soft, but your mind barely registers it, focusing instead on the fact that you are in yeonjun's bed.

he opens his mouth to say something, and you panic, cutting him off quickly with a wry grin and a statement. "i might need some alcohol in my system before we do anything else."

yeonjun raises his eyebrows in the slightest, a little surprised, but he also gets it. he's pretty sure both his body and his mind want you way too much right now, but he's so nervous he might not do anything. his hands are twisted in his lap and he quickly realizes and sits on them instead before standing.

he leads you to the kitchen, getting himself a can of beer and letting you pour yourself a couple shots of vodka. you know your limits- it's just enough for you to get a little tipsy and stop overthinking everything.

knocking one back, you enjoy the burn in your throat before taking the second. the slight buzz under your skin makes you smile slightly, leaning against the counter while he takes long sips of his own drink. it's obvious he wants this to pick up, so you busy yourself messing with his shirt just a little while he drinks. you slip your fingers under his sleeve, mindlessly rubbing your fingertips back and forth over his skin. you can tell he remembered your comments the previous day about his arms, basing his outfit around that.

he has another tank top on today, arms flexing when he brings the can to his lips to take another sip, and you move your hands a little farther down to rest on his chest. this time, when he lowers the can, his lips are a little wet from the drink and you can't help but press a messy kiss to them, licking the liquid off. yeonjun lets out a slight hiss when your tongues meet, left hand reaching behind him to place the can on the counter.

the alcohol must really be working already because you're both stumbling to his room, messily tugging each other's clothes off, and yeonjun leaves a line of wet hickeys up your neck. each and every touch of his skin on yours makes you feel fire burn a trail across your body, but it's in a way that makes you almost absolutely sure that it's not just because he's one of your celebrity crushes, or because you're a little drunk.

yeonjun's movements are so rushed that in seconds he's on top of you, his own shirt off, pants quick to follow once you tug at them. your hands find way to his newly-lightened hair when his lips and tongue meet yours again, a different kind of intoxication weaving itself up and over each of your limbs, the kind of intoxication that makes you want to live and breathe this man.

"want you," he whispers, cheeks pink from the alcohol, his eyes slightly glazed when he looks into yours, and the way he says it makes your cheeks grow hot again.

"go ahead then, 'm all yours," you exhale in response, trying to ignore the way your heart twinges at your own words. this is just a one time thing, you have to remind yourself.

but yeonjun's eyes light up and he presses another kiss to your lower lip, one hand moving between your legs to part them. his eyes lower to your cunt, and you can feel the way your underwear are sticking to your pussy. you'd chosen to wear white underwear today and you're pretty sure they're see-through by now, drenched completely from all the feelings yeonjun's touch is sending through you.

"all mine?" yeonjun mumbles, eyes wide. and when you nod, he smirks slightly. "love your cunt so much, i might just take you right now." your own eyes widen and yeonjun can feel your breath hitch. "but you'd like that, wouldn't you? pretty slut would love her jjunie taking her raw, would love to have me cum inside..."

you suck in a breath through your teeth at his words, nodding quickly, spread out on the bed beneath him. your mouth tastes like alcohol and yeonjun, and your brain tries to forget how he so flippantly called himself your jjunie.

"jjun, just, just fuck me, please?" you whimper out when he rubs a fingertip over your clothed cunt.

"baby asked so nicely, might as well give her what she wants," he coos, tugging off his boxers only once he slides your underwear down your legs. "promise you'll let me taste you next time?"

you nod, too distracted by the fact that he's already planning a 'next time' in his head to realize that he wants to eat you out, but by the time you understand, he has the tip of his cock pressed to your entrance, other hand holding yours as he slowly pushes in. the gesture feels sweet, romantic even, and you let your eyes fall shut when he pauses his movements.

yeonjun's body is pressed flush to yours in a way that allows him to brush his fingers over your neck, skin smooth against you. his hand wraps loosely around your neck and his breath is hot on your cheek when he whispers, "is this okay?"

you nod once more, only because the combination of the alcohol and his body on you is making your brain so fuzzy you can't think clear enough to speak. yeonjun hums lightly and experiments with his grip, making you gasp a little when he also hits your g-spot. he lets out a hiss when your already-tight walls tighten further around him.

he'd had a feeling that you'd feel like heaven around him, just because of the fact you had stated you were only able to fit two fingers inside yourself, but he had obviously underestimated all the sensations that were going to overwhelm him like they are now. every movement of his hips towards yours makes him fight to control the tremble of his body. your hand is linked with the one he doesn't have around your neck and every time he buries himself completely inside you, your hand tightens just a little around his.

he's losing himself just a little, hand still laced with yours, pace quickening until jolty, broken, high pitched moans are the only sound leaving you. yeonjun can't help but smirk at that, hoisting one leg over his shoulder. "fucking pussy is so perfect, almost like it's made for me, taking me so well... might just keep you here, my personal little cumslut, could bring you on tour with us, fuck you every night in the hotel room, how'd you like that, hm?"

his rhythm is so brutal you're choking on your words by now, broken sobs slipping through your parted lips, tears filling your waterline and then slipping down your cheeks, mixing with the slight mascara you'd put on this morning and making your face a mess. yeonjun likes it too, the way he's so easily able to get you like this, just a few words from his lips and you're crying.

he can't help but tell you this with a mocking pout on his lips that turns into yet another smirk, chuckling when all you can do is whimper incoherently. yeonjun kisses you gentle enough to make up for his harsh words though, he's only trying to make you feel good, and he knows you like it when he talks down to you.

one hand still around your neck, the other moves from your hand to your waist, and he's only fucking into you harder when you whine out that you're close. his lips catch yours again when you gasp out his name, gummy walls fluttering around his dick as your whole body shakes from the force of your orgasm, yeonjun's fingertip rubbing at your clit making you convulse under him.

yeonjun bites back a little moan and lowers his lips to your ear again. "can i cum in you, baby? let me make you mine?"

you can't tell if he's just saying it in the heat of the moment, but you nod, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you.

he bites his lip slightly, only losing control completely when you lick up the side of his neck and bite a splotchy hickey onto his neck. his warm cum fills you as he mumbles out a string of curses mixed with your name against your neck.

yeonjun practically collapses on you once he pulls out but lets himself take a second to marvel at how pretty you look right now, mascara leaking down your cheeks and neck, his cum and yours leaking from your swollen, abused cunt.

you let him wrap his arms around your form, cheek against his chest, both your bodies hot and sweaty, his bangs plastered to his forehead. there's a question on the tip of your tongue but he answers it for you, mumbling in your ear, "will you stay? for longer than just today?" yeonjun pauses slightly, then continues. "i'm not sure if i want you to be just one time. i know that this part of our relationship is new but we've been talking for so long and yeah, i don't want you to go back home and for this never to happen again."

you purse your lips, alcohol fogging up your brain and making you a little too sleepy to respond. "we'll talk tomorrow, hm? it's late and i had a long flight and i'm tired, jjunie..."

he nods slightly, running a hand through his hair, and presses a kiss to your forehead. "goodnight, yn."

"night night, yeonjun," you exhale.

you're almost half asleep when you hear him whisper, "the others'll be home soon, if they see us like this, i'm blaming you..."

#ada speaks :)#adas hard hours #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #yeonjun smut #yeonjun hard thoughts #yeonjun hard hours #yeonjun fic #txt fic #txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #this yeonjun reminds me of yeonjun in one of my fics and i LOVE it #may add this to the list of things to write part 2's too #not my fav endings but i had to #its IMPORTANT

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xjustakay · 2 months

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✺ (3/10) ✺ @jegulus-microfic prompt: sugar — 1,146 words (jegulus dads ft. harry; when the five year old is on a sugar high)

Immediately upon getting home from his meeting, Regulus is aware that things have not gone to plan. James was meant to pick up Harry from his mums’, and the two of them were supposed to decide on dinner and their entertainment for the evening. They usually have a movie night together, the three of them, when Harry first comes back to theirs again, but it seems his husband and his son had other plans upon coming home.

Because they’re out in the backyard on the trampoline.

Regulus hears Harry’s loud laughter carrying from the back screen before he even has to check. Setting his keys aside, he makes his way to the door to the backyard. He stands there inside for a moment, helplessly fond as he watches where Harry sits cross-legged, looking up at James, waiting.

James bounces gently in place a short distance from where the five year old sits before launching himself to land on his feet closer beside him. It flings Harry a few inches off the trampoline’s surface, his little limbs flailing as he shrieks excitedly. He flops flat onto his back afterward, lost in a string of giggles that ends up turning into ‘again, again, again!’

Two peas in a pod, James laughs with him, then reaches with both hands to tow Harry back up in his previous position. Before James can properly send him bouncing as he had moments prior, both of their heads whip in the direction of the sliding screen door when Regulus opens it to step outside.

“Papa!” Harry smiles widely, waving over at him with both hands. “Papa, watch this! Daddy can make me fly.”

“Oh, he can, can he?” Regulus smirks, coming off the patio onto the grass near the trampoline.

Harry nods and looks up at James. “Show him, daddy.”

Despite the fact that he’d just witnessed it moments ago before joining them, Regulus plays along, pretending to be awed by the way James jumps and causes Harry to bounce up off the trampoline. Again, Harry giggles for several seconds, cheeks rosy and smile unrelenting as he rolls from being flopped on his back onto his belly.

“You gotta try it, papa,” Harry tells him. “Daddy’s been doing it for ages now and it’s so fun every time.”

Regulus chuckles with a slow shake of his head. “Where’s all this energy coming from, I wonder?”

“Cookies!” Harry answers immediately, squirming up onto his knees.

One dark brow arches, Regulus’ eyes shifting to James who has the decency to look momentarily sheepish under the questioning look.

“Cookies before dinner?” He asks pointedly.

“I can explain,” James starts.

“Mama was making a whole bunch of them and mum sent me here with a big plate to share with you and daddy,” Harry explains for him.

“So, really, that look should be reserved for Pandora and Lily, my love,” James chimes in.

Regulus smiles tightly, head cocking to the side. “I’m sure you’d prefer that.”

James grimaces faintly and clambers off the trampoline, out through the zip-up mesh opening that keeps the edges screened in, to come to Regulus’ side. A large hand falls at his waist, Regulus still managing to look sternly up at him even when James leans down to kiss his cheek. He clearly has been humoring their son for a while, because he’s flushed and a little sweaty, slightly out of breath and so warm at Regulus’ side.

“You know how hard it is to get him to settle down when he’s had too much sugar,” Regulus points out.

“I know, I’m sorry.” James smooths his hand along his lower back in a continuous motion.

Regulus hums, gaze drifting to where Harry half-runs, half-bounces around the full circle of the trampoline. “How many did you let him have?”

“Just one, I swear.” James follows his line of sight, stepping even nearer to him to curl his arm around his waist. “But he did mention that Pandora had been letting him help in the kitchen, and you know that means—”

“Licking all the spoons.”

“And handfuls of chocolate chips. Ah, and some of them are frosted, even, so uh… icing taste tests, too.”

“Great.” Regulus shakes his head. “This has to be some kind of payback for when we brought him and Luna back to theirs after all that cake and candy at Ron’s birthday party.”

James chuckles and squeezes gently at his side. “He’ll crash soon enough, surely.”

“I assumed that’s why you brought him out here in the first place,” Regulus says.

“It was either that, or his suggestion to build a pillow fort pirate ship in the living room. I felt this was less jarring for you to come home to.”

Regulus watches as Harry does a quick somersault only to spring back to his feet, bounce twice in place, and purposely land on his bum with another bounce. He laughs breathlessly, adjusting glasses knocked askew by the impact, and Regulus can’t help but huff a quiet laugh of his own. Hopped up on sugar as he may be, Harry’s joy is never a thing Regulus takes for granted. Even in the silliest of moments —if not especially then.

“You’re going to sleep like babies tonight,” Regulus comments.

“Probably true.”

“After a solid bath time because you’re both so gross right now.”

James snorts, giving a tilted nod of his head in agreement. “Fair.”

“Have to figure out dinner still, too.”

“We could order a pizza to make things easy?” James suggests. When Regulus nods in reply, he nods, too. “I can stay out here and help him run off some more of the sugar high if you want to go ring it in?”

“No, I’ll watch him. You go inside and get yourself some water before you pass out or something,” Regulus teases.

“I’m fine, thank you. I’m in excellent shape,” James scoffs. Lower, just for him, he murmurs, “A fact you’re very well aware of, my love.”

He punctuates the playful remark by nipping gently at the edge of Regulus’ jaw. Regulus bats him away, lips twitching upward in a smile that couldn’t be held back even if he tried.

“Heathen,” He mutters.

“That’s me. Your heathen husband.” James smacks an overdramatic kiss to Regulus’ cheek this time before separating.

Harry hops up closer to the trampoline’s edge, hands braced carefully on the outside net to ask, “What’s a heathen, papa?”

Regulus hears James laugh loudly behind him on his way inside.

He shakes his head, grinning fondly as he looks back at Harry. “Don’t worry about that, darling. Why don’t you show me how your cartwheels are coming, hm?”

Harry brightens immediately, nodding and leaping backward. “Okay! Make sure you’re watching the whole time!”

Nothing else in the world seems more worth Regulus’ time than watching their boy be so happy. Riled up on sugar or otherwise.

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #starchaser #sunseeker #jeggy dads feels never let me down #also brought to you by my 5 y/o niece being so easily amused/distracted by the simplest of things when she’s hyper #+ also how i joke about winding her up on sugar before taking her back to her mom lmao #anyway #love jeggy and baby harry sooo much #sweet little silly loving family<3 #kay’s microfics #kay’s writing #jeggy dads series

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wordsbyrian · 10 months

Text

Surgeries and Surprises - Alex Morgan x Reader

Summary: "Skater!R gets injured", "Skater!R skates in XGames", "IDK but more Skater!R"

A/n: Look, I finally wrote a thing you guys! From multiple request for more Skater!R

Despite popular belief, skateboarding is an incredibly multifaceted activity.

There are so many different disciplines: street, vert, park, freestyle, downhill (and its variation street luge), and cruising.

For the first four, there are different competitions that skaters can compete in if they are so inclined. And in all honesty, you are usually not inclined to compete, preferring the unpredictable nature of actual street skating to the polished finish of comps like Street League, XGames, and Dew Tour.

But the chance to be one of the first skateboarders to compete in the Olympics.

Well, that’s not really something you can pass up on.

Which is why you’re skating in your 5th comp of the summer.

Not the worst schedule but you’re an idiot and made the choice to also try and get clips for your next video parts in your very limited free time.

Free time, that was only made more limited by the way you were constantly flying back and forth to France to support your wife in the World Cup.

All of this is to say that your body is currently going through it.

And, unluckily, it’ll keep going through it because XGames comps are not set up in a way that plays to your strengths, with only three 45 seconds runs to string together a line and show the judges what you can do.

Luckily, on the other hand, your flight out of Minneapolis is booked for immediately after the contest ends.

Your first two timed runs went pretty well but you know you can do better which is why you saved your best stuff for your final run.

And for the most part, your final run goes pretty well until you get to your last trick with 10 seconds remaining.

You had planned it out perfectly so that you had enough time to take a breath before giving it a go. A necessary precaution for a trick you're familiar with but not a master at, a frontside flip noseslide to fakie, especially since you’re trying it down the biggest obstacle, the 4-block rail.

A little homage to Reynolds, something you’ve been doing throughout the contest season.

Except there are a couple of problems.

The first is that, unlike Reynolds, you are not a master of the frontside flip.

The other is that after a long day of being skated by just about everyone, the rail had picked up the wax from everyone’s boards, making it slicker than you need it to be for your noseslide.

Which is why you aren’t very surprised when you hit the ground. The only surprising thing is how much it hurts.

You immediately roll over and begin to stand up and take a few steps, only to drop to one knee after barely making it anywhere.

As you try to gather the strength to stand again, you’re stopped by someone placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Stay down, Y/N/N.” It’s Reynolds. “You just used your head as a basketball and your arm is fucked. They’re bringing out a stretcher.”

“I’m fine,” you say, trying to get up again. “I don’t need a stretcher.”

His hand gets firmer and you feel him pushing you to sit down properly.

“I’m serious, Y/N, I’m serious,” he says. “I’m telling you this as your friend, not as your boss. You need to go to the hospital, your shit is fucked.”

It’s at this moment that you realize how quiet the arena is.

It’s almost as if you can hear the individualized breaths of everyone in the building and honestly, it's making your head pound in a way that you wish you weren’t familiar with.

Then you see the EmTs rolling the stretcher towards you.

“Fuck dude,” you groan, resigning yourself to your fate. “Just don’t call Alex, man, she’s gonna freak out.”

“It’s too late, she already texted me she’s trying to get on the next flight out.”

“Shit.”

The entire process of letting the EMTs do their jobs is a hassle because it’s painfully obvious that they don’t deal with skateboarders often. And it takes a lot of convincing for you to even let them strap you to the backboard.

Your memory blurs out a bit after that.

The only thing you really remember besides waking up in the hospital is telling Reynolds to make sure that they don’t give you anything stronger than a Tylenol (that didn’t happen).

When you regain consciousness it’s to the sound of voices, two you recognize and one you don’t.

“She should be coming out of the anesthesia soon,” the recognizable voice says, a doctor maybe. “In addition to her mild concussion, there were some moderate tears to her deltoid that were repaired in surgery. Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do about the fractures to the humeral head as we can’t cast the area.”

“She’s not going to like the sound of that,” you hear Alex say, “Not going to like that at all.”

“Unfortunately, whether she likes it or not doesn’t really matter. She needs to be in the sling for a few weeks at least,” the doctor says.

“Alright, thanks doc,” Reynolds' loud voice makes the headache you forgot you had worse. “Don’t worry Alex, she’s been through worse. Besides, the medal will make her feel better.”

“Not now Andrew.”

The door to your room opens a tiny bit and through squinted eyes, you watch as both your wife and mentor slip through the crack, closing the door behind them.

When they get close enough that you can make out the details on their faces, you stick your hand out to Alex and attempt to pull her into the hospital bed with you.

She doesn’t let you though and instead releases your hand to pull the only chair closer to the bed.

“Not so fast, hotshot,” she says, keeping her voice low.

“I told Andrew to tell you that you didn’t need to come all the way out here. You should be at home resting,” you tell her.

“And I told him that I was already on my way to the airport.”

“And I told you,” Reynolds says, frowning at you, “that I wasn’t going to risk having your wife mad at me.”

You roll your eyes at him.

“Now here’s your medal, silver’s not too bad considering you knocked yourself out,” he says, placing the item on the edge of the bed. “I’ll see you around bro.”

Both you and Alex watch as he quickly exits the room, moving sort of like his ass is on fire, and leaving the two of you alone.

The second the door fully shuts behind him you turn back to Alex and see more than her sigh deeply.

“How do you feel…”

“Why weren’t you…”

You both try to speak at the same time.

“No, you go ahead,” you tell her.

“Well, first of all, were you just about to ask how I’m feeling while you are literally laying in a hospital bed,” she asks.

You shrug somewhat sheepishly and say, “I mean you just flew halfway across the country and I know you haven’t been feeling the best lately.”

“Y/N/N, you’re ridiculous.”

“Anyway,” she says, rolling her eyes at you, “Why weren’t you wearing a helmet? You can only smash your head so many times before the damage is irreversible and I don’t like constantly being called to hospitals wondering if this time is the one.”

You take a second to let her words sink in.

She’s right.

Ever since the two of you reconnected and subsequently got together roughly 4 years ago, you’ve been injured quite a bit.

This is your 3rd concussion and 4th broken. You’ve also ruptured your achilles, cracked a few ribs, had one of your lungs collapse, and gotten over 50 stitches from various gashes gained from getting cut open skating some sketchy spots.

That’s not even counting the smaller ones that you haven’t told her about, like when you sprained your ankle visiting her during the Rio Olympics.

But admitting that Alex is right has never been something you’re great at.

So instead you just scoot over in the bed and ask her to lay down with you again.

It takes a bit of pleading but you do get her to join you and when she does, you’re quick to wiggle around into a position that's comfortable but still allows you to hold her.

With the knowledge that your current position makes it impossible for her to see your face, you can’t help but crack a joke.

“C'mon, babe, you know that helmets are for hills and hills only,” you say, finally answering her question, only to immediately recoil as she pinches you. “Okay, I’m sorry. I know I really freaked you out today and I hate that I keep forcing you to come see me in hospitals. And I…” she cuts you off.

“You’re not forcing me to do anything,” she protests, keeping her voice light. “I love you even though you seem dead set on destroying your body.”

“It’s not really on purpose,” you say, pulling her impossibly closer. “I don’t know how to explain it but sometimes when I skate it’s like an out-of-body experience. Nothing matters except how good it’s gonna feel when I roll away. I can barely even think straight when I’m on my board but that obviously means I don’t think about how my choices affect others and that’s not fair to you.”

When you finish speaking, the first thing you hear from your wife is a sigh that can only be described as annoyed.

“What,” you ask.

“You’re an idiot,” she says.”

“Babe,” your voice is indignant, and too loud even to your own ears.

“I’m sorry but you’re so dumb,” she says. “I’m not concerned because of how it affects me, I care about how it affects you. You’ve been acting strangely all summer and I don’t really want to see where this path takes you.”

Once again Alex is right.

And her pointing out your recent odd behavior, something you hadn’t noticed yourself, is like a bucket of ice water over your head.

Taking a deep breath, you nod even though she can’t see you and say, “I think I need to call my sponsor.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

Unfortunately, between your concussion and having to travel back to Orlando, the call to your sponsor had to wait a few days.

And in those few days, you begin to really notice the behaviors Alex had mentioned.

Even before your injury, you were stressed and anxious but you had ignored it, believing it was tied to the comps and upcoming deadlines.

But now with those things mostly out of the way, the intensity of these feelings is familiar and you aren’t very fond of the places you ended up the last few times you felt like this.

And the isolation of being trapped at home, unable to do much more than stare at the walls and wait for Alex to get back from training, only made those feelings stronger.

When you’re finally able to make that call and the first words finally come out of your mouth, it’s as though the weight of the world comes off your shoulders.

Recovery isn’t an instant process but you do instantly feel a little better as you explain your recent behaviors that you now recognize as somewhat erratic.

And when the call ends, you have a list of dates, times, and locations so you can go to a meeting whenever you need to.

The only thing that's really left for you to do is talk to your wife when she gets home but that might be the hardest part.

So you wait, completing as many boring household tasks as you can to make the time pass more quickly.

It doesn’t really work that well because you only have one arm to work with. And you're just unlucky enough that it's your dominant hand out of commission.

You’re in the middle of unloading the dishwasher when you hear the front door open and shut.

It doesn’t take long for Alex to find you and in the back of your mind, you know that the only reason she didn’t shout your name across the house like she normally does is because of your lingering headache.

“Hey babe,” you hear her greet as you bend over to place a pot in its designated cabinet.

“Hi,” you respond, standing back up and turning to face her, only to see that she’s already taken a seat at the island. “Oh, that’s the serious conversation chair,” you note, going to lean on the counter opposite her.

“I mean it is serious but it’s nothing bad.”

“If it’s nothing bad, do you mind if I go first,” you ask, “Mine isn’t bad either but I finally got around to giving Noah a call.”

When you say that it's almost as though you can feel the energy in the room shift.

“How did that go?”

“It definitely went.”

“Are you going to elaborate or…”

Sighing deeply, you shuffle your feet, focusing on the way your socks slip over the tile.

“Apparently, when you’re really stressed and overly tired your brain chemistry changes,” you tell her, now looking up at the ceiling. “Which makes people look for things to relieve the stress, which can be a bad thing for addicts. And between the video parts, qualifiers, and flying all over the place, I haven’t actually had a chance to sit down and think, much less attend a meeting. But now, when I would’ve had a chance to, I can barely be in a room with lights on for more than 15 minutes.”

There’s a moment of silence before Alex responds and as it passes, you can feel your heart sink further and further into your stomach. This is the moment that she finally decides that being with you is far more work than it's worth.

Your downward spiral is broken by the sound of her voice.

“I guess that means that we have to come up with ways for you to handle stress when you're busy,” Alex says, “because you’re only about to get busier.”

“What? No, I’m not, the next two competitions are at the end of the month and I literally can’t skate for the next month and a half.”

“3 months,” she shoots back, “and yes you will.”

“You’re not making any sense Alex.”

Alex gets up from her seat and makes her way toward you. Before you know it, she’s reaching out for your good hand, which to this point has had a death grip on the counter behind you, not that you’ve noticed.

With a confused look on your face, you watch as she pulls your hand to rest against her stomach before covering it with both of her own.

Still confused, it takes you longer than you’d like to admit to figure out why she would do that.

It’s only when you remember the seemingly never-ending nausea Alex has been dealing with that you connect the dots.

“Oh shit.”

#uswnt fanfic #uswnt imagine #uswnt x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #alex morgan x reader #alex morgan imagine #alex morgan

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fakescenariosbeforesleepblog · 3 months

Text

He's not unlovable.

König x Reader.

König is not in his best moment, you never expected to hear about his past, now that you know a little, you understand why he feels in the way he feels.

Remember every ♥️ is important, thanks for your support.

Warning: I think there's not a big warning, lol, but If you're not In a good moment maybe it's not a good idea to read it rn, I'm sure I wrote it for a neutral reader but I warn you perhaps I wrote or made allusion to a fem and I didn't notice it, if I did I apologize, spelling and grammar errors.

König doesn't have an easy life, you know that, he reminds you that you can leave whenever you want, not because he wants you to leave, he says it because he feels like he's not enough for you, the kind of relationship, the kind of life you share, he simply thinks you will leave one day, and he's fine with it «i prefer to see you fly away from here than keep you in a cage mein kleiner Vogel (my little bird)» «I don't have much to offer, but all I am and all my life belongs to you, Schatz», that's what he always says.

You feel a hole in your chest every time he says that, because you don't want to leave, he has been the best boyfriend you ever had, he's kind, he loves to give you little details, he's gentle with you, he sometimes acts like a little kid, and you love all those things about him, you're there when his anxiety is at the maximum level, you constantly remind him how handsome, special, smart, funny and charming he is.

You never question him about his job, you don't need to, you know the man under that mask is different to the man you have at home and still, you are sure you would love that version of him too.

You don't know much about his past, «I don't look at my past Meine Liebe, I only look at my present, my present is you and that's all I need» but lately the past has been calling to König, you know something is not okay, he has been stressed and anxious, you don't want to ask but you know he's having a hard time.

You walked to his little office at home and you could hear him on the phone, you waited outside to not interrupt him.

«I understand, but it's impossible for me to go right now (...) Ja! I know I have to make at least 2 visits per year but I can't (...) Because I can't be in the same room with her!» «Scheisse (shit)»

You knocked at the door softly and opened.

- König?

- Ja?

He was with his hands covering his face, sitting on his chair, you walked to him but without invading his personal space.

- I just... I just came to tell you that dinner is ready, do you want to eat right now or... Maybe Later?

You're trying to be gentle, he doesn't respond, he just only extended his arm, asking you to get close to him, you give him your hand, you can feel his hand sweating, once you're close enough he hugs you, his face is on your abdomen and his arms are around your waist, you Caresse his hair with your hands, you don't want to ask, you really don't want to but it seems like you need to, so in the most calmed and softest voice you try to ask him.

- What's wrong Kö? You can talk with me baby.

He sobs and you can feel hot tears on your shirt, you kneel down in front of him and hug him, his head now rests on your shoulder.

- König, my love, you're worrying me... Shhh, it's okay baby, I'm here, it's all alright, you're safe here.

Both stay like that for a moment, you let him cry, you hate to see him suffering you would burn the world just to see him smile. You managed to take him to bed, you ran to the kitchen for a cup of lavender tea, when you're back, he's laying in bed, looking at the window.

- I brought you a cup of tea...

- My mother... She's in a nursing home, they have been calling me, because I haven't visited her, last time was 2 and a half years ago.

You're still in silence, he never talked to you about his family, you don't know what to say, you sit at the end of the bed while he continues talking and looking at the window.

- I took her there a few years ago because she was diagnosed with dementia, a politic of the nursing home is to pay a visit to the patient at least a couple times every year, but I can't, it's very difficult to me, she's a reminder of how unlovable I am.

You only knew König left his home at a very young age, he never told you why and you never forced him to talk more about it.

- Why? What makes it difficult?

- I know I never tell you about my past schatz because you already have enough with all the mess I am already... When I left my house to join the army, my mother told me not to bother to come back, that's what I did, I never came back but sometimes I sent her some money and a note, I always waited to have a response, but never arrived, eventually I stopped to do it. One day the police called me, they found her in a park, she was lost, she forgot where she lived, she told the cops she was looking for his little son, they took her home and found a note with my telephone number, they said I needed to take her to a nursing home if I didn't have time to take care of her, that's what I did. I tried to visit her during her first months in that place but all those times I tried, she was yelling at me, reminding me that my father left her because of me, telling me how hard it was to have me around because all she could see in me was my dad's abandonment, that's why I stopped to try to visit her.

- Oh König...

Your tears are blinding you, but you just lay behind him, you try to spoon him and you kiss his shoulder.

- You don't need to go, don't force yourself to do something you don't want to, baby I'm so sorry all this happened to you.

- The nurse who has been calling me, says my mother has been asking for me, that my mother is 'stable' at the moment, and it would be good for her to see me... I don't know what to do schatz...

- König, look at me please...

He turned around and looked at you, you caresses his face softly and kissed his forehead, you have never seen him like this, your heart is breaking, his eyes reflect all the sadness and darkness inside him, it's a new version of him you never expected to know, but you're sure that what you're feeling is the necessity to give him all the love he deserves.

- You're not your mother's rage and you're not your father's abandonment, okay? You're better than that, you're the most amazing person I've ever met, I love every version of yourself, you're all I ever wanted and whatever you decide to do you have my support and love, I will not leave you alone, never, we will solve this together, alright?

There it is, the spark in his eyes is back, he nodded in silence and kissed you over and over again, whispering how much he loves you and how safe he feels with you at his side.

It doesn't matter how unlovable he feels sometimes, you know you will be there to show him how wrong he is.

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dyns33 · 4 months

Text

The way to communicate

Being a while since I did a Din Djarin x female reader.

It was rare for Din Djarin to get angry.

It's hard to say if it was because of his creed or if it was in his temperament, but he did his best to always keep his cool.

Becoming the father of a little green gremlin who had a hobby of getting into mischief probably forced him to be even more patient than he was before finding the kid, or meeting Y/N.

Even when the little one put himself in danger, Din didn't scream. Maybe he knew it wouldn't have any effect on Grogu, but he gently picked him up, using an equally gentle voice to scold him.

“I already told you not to do that.” he often sighed, patting the child's head. "You know you risk choking if you swallow a whole frog. Especially since you've already had two meals, you're not hungry."

“Gah !”

"No."

Y/N watched the scene with sparkling eyes and trying to hide her smile, because a great Mandalorian warrior, no matter how patient, probably wouldn't like to be thought of as adorable. He was supposed to be scary and awesome.

When he was with Grogu, Din Djarin wasn't scary at all. He didn't scream when the little one drew on the walls, or hid in a corner, or played with the buttons. Never.

Of course, it wasn't the same with enemies or bounties. He didn't like killing, he would avoid it if possible, but he had no problem accomplishing his mission without the slightest remorse. It was the Way.

Honor, strength, and protection of his clan were his priorities. As he was patient, Din was discreet. A man of few words, preferring actions.

Because of this, Y/N wasn’t sure where she stood in relation to his family. After she helped him find a former Empire general, while risking her life to protect his son, they had stayed together.

At first, Din had considered himself indebted to her. Then, he offered her a job, seeing that she took good care of Grogu when he was absent and that she had some knowledge of mechanics, very useful when the ship had some problems.

But could she consider herself a member of the clan ? Y/N wasn’t sure.

It would have been easy to ask the Mandalorian directly. He would then have clearly answered whether he saw her as a member, or as just a flying partner who took care of his child.

Asking the question directly meant taking the risk of having to face reality and accept the possibility that she wasn't as important to Din as he and Grogu were to her.

She therefore preferred to say nothing and take advantage of the time offered to her with them, experiencing many adventures, as well as wonderful moments.

Until the announcement.

"There are no new contracts at the moment and Grogu needs some rest, so we'll head back home to Nevarro."

"Oh. Okay. I'll probably go to Coruscant then. You can contact me if necessary." Y/N said without looking at him, continuing to play with the kid.

"… I'll drop you off."

The silence in the ship grew colder than calm as they headed toward Coruscant.

Rather than wait to get there, Din decreed that it was necessary to make several stops to buy supplies, check that they had enough energy, that the engine had no problems, and lots of small details that wasted their time unnecessarily.

"We could do all of this on Coruscant. It's not that far."

“I don’t want to take a risk.”

"But we checked everything before the last mission and…"

“I said we were stopping for water !” the Mandalorian then repeated with a loud voice and violently placing his hands on the dashboard.

This made Y/N jump, but also Grogu, who stared at his father with wide eyes, full of surprise and fear. Visibly ashamed of his reaction, Din sighed before muttering that he needed to cool off, leaving them alone in the cockpit.

Things didn't get better when they arrived in Mos Eisley. Not really wanting to stay idle, Y/N took advantage of the little one's nap to go for a walk in the market, while Din chatted with Peli.

She didn't want to go to Coruscant at all and all these stops might have been a blessing, but like with a bandage, she knew it would be better to leave right away rather than torture herself like this.

It was normal that the clan wanted to go home to rest. It was normal that she wasn't invited since she wasn't part of the clan.

What was less normal was Din's behavior, who seemed to avoid her as much as possible and be tense whenever they were in the same room. He had no reason to be angry with her, who continued to work normally despite her sadness.

The situation was also complicated for Grogu, who felt that something was wrong between the two adults. The poor kid ate less, sticking to Y/N every chance he got. It was almost impossible to get him off.

So Y/N wanted to take advantage of this little moment alone to get out of the ship and clear her head.

She didn't expect to be caught by bounty hunters who had spotted the Mandalorian's arrival. Despite Moff Gideon's death, there were still some people who wanted Din Djarin's head.

Since he was training Grogu to be a fighter, Din had also shown her some techniques, so she could defend herself if needed. Although he always added that it wouldn't be necessary, since he would be there to protect her.

Fighting a nice Mandalorian who held back his punches was one thing. Trying to do the same thing with three guys who didn't care about hurting her was something else.

Fortunately for Y/N, when she had just taken a blow to the nose which had made her fall to the ground and the leader of the gang approached to pick her up, Din arrived at that moment, quickly shooting the brigands without missing a target.

He then ran to pick Y/N up and take her back to the ship to tend to her injuries. Wanting to help when he saw her bleeding, the kid used his powers before his father had time to grab the first aid kit.

The panic subsided, a long silence returned, only broken by the little noises of Grogu asking to be carried by Y/N. But when she moved to lean towards him, the Mandalorian spoke.

"What possessed you to leave alone ? Without a word, without saying where you were going ? You were lucky that I noticed your absence and went looking for you."

"I didn't think I needed permission. And I didn't ask to be attacked."

"That's not what I said. But you could have gotten kidnapped ! You could have died ! Why didn't you tell me you were leaving ?! I thought… I thought that you left us. That you had gone to find another means of transportation to Coruscant."

“Why would I do that, since you’re taking me there ?”

“Don’t pretend to be stupid !” Din then shouted, pointing at her, almost scaring her.

The gesture probably scared Grogu more than her, who knew he was going to do nothing but scream like an idiot, but something happened that they would have thought impossible.

With his powers, the child pushed his father against the wall of the ship, as far away from Y/N as possible, then he jumped on her knees, clinging to her while moaning in fear.

The two adults remained frozen. Even though she couldn't see his face, Y/N could guess Din's shocked and hurt look, who understood that his son had thought he was capable of hurting the one he seemed to consider his mother. He saw fear in Grogu's eyes.

"No, I… I shouldn't have shouted." he whispered as he sat on the ground, lowering his head in shame. "Sorry."

"It's okay. I know you weren't going to do anything."

“Obviously he doesn’t know.”

“He doesn’t like shouting.” Y/N said, stroking Grogu’s head to comfort him. "He doesn't like arguments. We should go to Coruscant quickly, it would be better for everyone."

“You really want to leave us so quickly ?”

Din's voice almost broke at the end of his sentence. Y/n stared at him, but he didn't raise his head to look back at her, thus not seeing that she didn't understand his question.

"… You're the one who wants me to leave. So you can return to your home to Nevarro."

"… I meant our home. Grogu, you and me. I thought… I thought you understood, Cyare, but you rejected the invitation. I thought I misunderstood and that you didn't want to to be part of our clan."

“You mean… I’m part of the clan ?”

"Of course." the Mandalorian whispered, finally looking at her. "Mesh'la, we have traveled together for so long. We fight together. We raise Grogu together. I know our customs are different, and we haven't taken our vows yet, but…"

"Our vows ?!"

"… Yes. I've been courting you for a while. You accepted the gifts. You train with me. You let me kiss you. I didn't think it wasn't clear. Forgive me, cyare, I shouldn't have had any illusions."

Words were less important than actions to the Mandalorians, even if they had certain songs and rites. Y/N totally didn't understand that receiving a weapon and touching the helmet with your forehead had special meanings, and Din hadn't told her that.

In his corner, Grogu had only understood that his parents loved each other, because that was obvious, and they just needed to be together to be happy. The rest didn't matter.

All it would have taken was for Din to take them back to Nevarro without opening his mouth, and Y/N would have been surprised but delighted to be welcomed into their little home. Instead, he had tried to communicate, and it had been a disaster.

Now the son was afraid, trembling against Y/N who was processing the fact that Din had been thinking about marrying her for some time, until he realized that he had done everything wrong.

He had yelled at his clan, even if it was because he was afraid of losing Y/N. He hadn't known how to protect them properly. He was covered with shame.

"I don't want to go to Coruscant."

Since he didn't move, too busy determining if he had poked his head by being thrown by the Force, Y/N slowly got up, keeping Grogu close to her, to join him on the ground.

"I was disappointed that you didn't ask me to come. It wasn't clear to me that I was part of the clan, but it was my dearest wish. To stay with you and the little one. If you still want of me…"

“Cyare !” Din sighed, taking her hand. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“Bah ga ba !”

Grogu stirred then, patting his father's hand insistently so that he let go of Y/N's, his large eyes piercing the Mandalorian's berskar.

"... I have already apologized."

“Pato !”

"… I'm sorry for scaring you, and for yelling at Y/N. I won't do it again. I will never hurt any of you. And I'll make sure there are no misunderstandings before drawing conclusions."

“Aaaaaaaah.” was Grogu's response, who smiled again, holding out his arms to be picked up by Din, who complied without hesitation.

This made his parents laugh. They hadn't laughed in a long time.

The ship's coordinates were changed to go directly to Nevarro. No need to make any more unnecessary detours, since all the stops they had made so far were useless. Din was only trying to buy time, not knowing how to get Y/N to stay.

“So, you talked about vows ?” she said shyly as they landed, the kid sleeping on top of her.

"Later, Mesh'la. My request wasn't very romantic."

“Mandalorians worry about romance ?”

"No. But I imagine it will please you."

Y/N could have said she didn’t need all this. Knowing that he saw her as a member of his clan, as the mother of his son, was enough. But she didn't want another misunderstanding that might hurt Din, and she would be happy to be his wife, so she just nodded.

There was no more arguing, no more shouting. Not even when Grogu swallowed the ring that Din had the Armorer make. He simply sat down in a corner, grunting while tapping his helmet, while the little one hiccupped, regretting having eaten the little shiny circle.

“We can get it back in a few days.”

"No."

“We’ll clean it up.”

"Cyare, there's no way I'm giving you a gift that was eaten by the kid and which passed… Hmm !"

Luckily, the ring was spat out, but it took a while for Din to agree to take it back, and then officially offer it to Y/N. He insisted on going to Mandalore to purify it in the waters, while announcing to his peers that he would soon have a riduur.

He didn't bring Y/N and Grogu with him on this trip. The little one was too tired, and someone had to watch over him.

“Karga could have kept him.” Y/N remarked when Din had returned.

"He would have ended up losing his mind after Grogu destroyed everything in his office. I don't think the kid would have liked to be left alone either. Besides…"

"What ?"

"You are beautiful, Mesh'la. Some Mandalorians might have wanted to take you. I would have had to fight and kill them to prove that you are mine. I preferred to avoid that."

It sounded ridiculous, but he said it very seriously, his tone quickly becoming dry and somber.

Din Djarin did not often get angry, except when it concerned the protection of his clan, when someone tried to hurt them or take them from him. He hid his anger and jealousy beneath his armor, but it was there, ready to come out against those who had the audacity to confront him.

But never against Y/N and Grogu. Only for them.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin fanfiction

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azrielslightintheshadows · 6 months

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hello please could i request one where the reader was part of the inner circle for centuries and they were all very close. however, once the sisters come into the picture, they, without realising, neglect the reader and don’t realise until something happens to the reader, like her falling deathly sick or very badly injured etc. reader can be mated with any of the batboys, maybe with all three ;) very angsty with grovel and comfort 💗

ps love your writing 💗

My mate.

Bat boys x f!Reader (Mainly Azriel x f!Reader)

Warnings; mentions of abuse, trauma, scars and blood. Swearing.

Masterlist.

Sooo, the ending is not exactly what you asked me to write, but the story took me there. If you don't like it I can rewrite it :)

You were a toddler when your father found out that your mother had an affair with a lesser fae that resulted in you. He waited until your mother fell asleep and carried you into the Illyrian woods, he left you there with your blanket and returned home. You never found out what happened to your mother, and you didn’t care at all. Rhysand’s mother found you the next morning hiding under a tree’s root, she wiped your tears and carried you to her home. That was how you met Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel. You all grew up together, your friendship getting stronger as the years passed and a few months before Rhysand got trapped under the mountain the mating bond snapped.

You were training with Cassian when it happened. He kicked your legs making you fall on your back, your hands instantly grabbed his shoulders and you took him down with you. His face a few inches away from yours as you stared at each other, and it snapped. Both of you burst into laughter and immediately kissed. Rhysand and Azriel were ecstatic when they found out, congratulating both of you and talking about the mating ceremony.

Two days later you asked Azriel to take you to the city. You wanted to get the ingredients you would need to make Cassian’s favorite cake. You were flying back to the house of wind when you looked at Azriel’s face admiring his beauty as the sun fell on him, he glanced down at you and the bond snapped. You almost fell off the sky from the shock. When you landed you both ran to the library, trying to find a book that explained the situation. You didn’t find one. That night during dinner you announced it, both of you staring at Cassian and waiting for his reaction. He grinned and hugged Azriel shouting “We’re going to have so much fun”. Rhysand was smiling as he watched the scene, yet you didn’t miss the hurt that flashed in his eyes.

The next day Rhysand came into your room to ask you a few things about the mating ceremony, he wanted to know where you wanted it to happen and which priestess you preferred. You explained to him how you had imagined that moment, your eyes shining as you spoke and your cheeks heating up. He admired your face and pushed one strand of hair behind your ear making the bond snap into place. Both your faces paled as you stared at each other. He gulped and immediately called the others in his mind. You explained to them what happened, and their jaws dropped.

“Mother’s tits! Do we expect more mates to come?” Cassian exclaimed while Azriel shook his head.

You somehow managed to have a relationship without problems, the boys did everything in their power to keep you safe and happy and you managed to give everyone the same amount of attention. Then Feyre burst into your life, Rhysand became her friend under the mountain and when he found out that Tamlin was mistreating her, he sent Mor to take her. You didn’t mind that she took all your mate’s attention from you, you felt like you owed to her for saving him and Prythian. Afterall Cassian and Azriel were giving you enough attention, and you didn’t want to be greedy. But after a year her sisters were made, and Rhysand took them in to help them and everything changed. Cassian spent most of his time with Nesta and Azriel with Elain. They would cancel your dates, they wouldn’t show up for dinner leaving you alone with four cold plates and most importantly they would come to bed after you had fallen asleep and leave before you woke up.

When you confronted them about it, Cassian and Rhys called you selfish and greedy and stormed off. Azriel looked at you with guilt and quickly left when you screamed “get out”. You couldn’t believe what was happening and you stayed back and watched your mates slowly falling in love with other females.

It had been a month since the last time you shared your bed with them, your relationship was non-existent, and you were slowly healing your heart. You got ready to go to the Hewn city to handle some problems Keir had caused. As usual no one was home so with a sigh you winnowed away. You were walking down the main hall of the castle when two males pounced on you from behind. You grabbed your dagger, but you were too late, one of them had already caught your wrist while the other one stabbed you repeatedly on your back. Your screams shook the whole court and you instantly opened the bond sending every ounce of pain to your mates. Black dots clouded your vision slightly, and your body went numb. You could only feel the adamant walls Rhys and Cassian had built around the bond and suddenly a wave of fear and rage. “Az” you whispered.

Shadows came like a wave in the room, and Azriel emerged from them, Truth-Teller in hand, his wings stretched wide and a deadly expression. The males took a few steps back with wide eyes as they saw your mate walking slowly towards them like a predator ready to pounce. You now understood why they called him God of death and goosebumps filled your body. You only heard screams and cries and bones cracking before a bloodied hand grabbed your shoulder and turned you on your back making you cry out in pain.

“Shh its okay I’ve got you angel” Azriel whispered and picked you up.

“I love you” you whispered before the darkness engulfed you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A groan left your lips as you tried to open your eyes.

“I’m here angel” Azriel’s deep voice rang in your ears.

“Az?” you asked and forced your eyes to open. The light burned your vision and in a blink Azriel’s shadows blocked the sun. He was sitting on a chair next to you, still covered in blood the only difference was that it had dried now.

“You’re okay” he smiled.

“What happened to them?” you croaked.

“I wanted to let them for you, but I couldn’t, I felt so much rage… I’m sorry” he lowered his gaze.

“It’s okay my love. Thank you.” You said softly.

The door opened and Rhysand walked in with Cassian behind him.

“You’re awake” Rhys gasped, and you nodded.

“Thank the Cauldron its been two days” Cassian exclaimed and grabbed your hand. You flinched and pulled your hand back harshly.

“Don’t” you snapped, and he frowned.

“Where were you when I needed you?” you yelled, your eyes filling with tears. “Both of you! If it wasn’t for Azriel I would be dead now!”

“Sweetheart we didn’t feel you” Rhys said softly.

“I know! Because you blocked the fucking bond! Where were you?” you sat straighter and with a soft whine that made Azriel growl and move closer.

“Y/n…” Cassian tried to speak but you stopped him.

“Where. The. Fuck. Were. You?”

“I was training Nesta” he mumbled and stared at the ground. You glanced at Rhysand who had a guilty look on his face.

“I was helping Feyre write a letter to Helion” he said.

“Get out!” you screamed. “Now! Get the fuck out… get out… get out!”

Azriel jumped on his feet and glared at his brothers, daring them to not listen to you. They quickly left the room, their faces red and their eyes filled with tears. Azriel quickly fetched a glass of water and gave it to you.

“Calm down angel” he mumbled as he placed a soft kiss on your head. “Don’t act like the perfect mate, you were ignoring me too.” You growled.

“I know and it broke my heart” his voice was soft and filled with regret.

“Then why did you do it?” your voice was raising.

“Because you have two perfect mates, a High Lord and a General. You don’t need a scarred monster to defile you!” he snapped.

“What? Are you serious?” your hands shook with rage.

“Yes! I’m a broken beast… you deserve way better”. He was yelling now. “You’re not! What the hell are you talking about? You are the exact opposite. Az you’ve been protecting me since the day you met me, you are the only one who cares about my day and my feelings, the only one who comforts me when I’m sad. You’ve proved multiple times that you would give your life for me. I don’t give a fuck about your scars, I love them. Would you leave me because of the scars on my back? Because I’m sure that they will not heal completely, I can feel them.”

“I would never leave you” his voice was barely above a whisper now.

“Okay shut up then.” You said and he chuckled.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A few days later Madja announced that you are completely healed and offered to make a salve for your scars, but you denied. You wanted to show Azriel that its okay to have scars.

Cassian and Rhysand frequently checked on you, they would lurk around you with sad looks on their faces.

Azriel only left your side to get you whatever you needed. He even asked Elain to come to your room and he told her that he has a mate who he loves with all his heart and that he doesn’t want to spend time with her anymore. She nodded and left with her head bowed, a few days later she went on a date with Lucien.

You were currently getting ready for dinner, you had asked everyone to come because you had an announcement to make. Azriel was sitting on your bed behind you while you got dressed.

“Az can you help me with the zipper?” you asked as you checked your reflection on the mirror.

He got up with a smile and approached you. His hands traced your scars, his breath hitching as he leaned and pressed soft kisses on every scar making you shudder.

“So beautiful” he murmured on your back as he zipped your dress slowly. You smiled and leaned back into him.

“Let’s go handsome” you said softly, and he chuckled.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Everyone was sitting around the table waiting for you. Azriel pulled one chair for you, and you smiled thankfully. Cassian and Rhysand were staring at you with a guilty expression. You all ate in silence and after three glasses of wine you felt ready to speak so you stood up.

“I made a decision” you announced getting everyone’s attention. Nesta and Feyre nodded while Cassian and Rhys stared with panicked expressions.

“I know that Cassian fell in love with you Nesta and Rhysand with you Feyre.” You told them and they avoided your gaze.

Your mates opened their mouths but quickly shut them as you glared at them.

“Its okay, both females are wonderful, and I can see why you are pinning after them. So, I decided to let you go. I realized that I love you as friends and nothing more. I’m in love with Azriel though and it wouldn’t be fair to him if I allowed you to come back to me.” You smiled at Azriel who nodded. You had talked about it two days ago and he had told you that he doesn’t want to share you with anyone else.

“Are you sure about this?” Feyre asked you softly.

“Yes I’m sure.” You smiled.

Cassian and Rhys had tears in their eyes as they stared at you.

“Let’s go mate” you told Azriel and offered him your hand.

“My mate” he smiled, and you left the room with genuine smiles on your faces.

Because this ends with Azriel I will put it under him on the masterlist.

Princess chapter 7 coming later today!

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