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too-much-tma-stuff · 1 month

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Finally getting help (prt 9)

Masterpost

“So where’s the brother?” Jason asked as he followed Bruce down the hall.

“He’s in Tim’s lab. It seems like they’ll be able to share it, which is good even with as big as this place is I don’t think we have room for two mad science labs,” Bruce said with dry humour, making Jason laugh in spite of himself.

“Tim must be thrilled to have a buddy huh?” He asked, still chuckling. No one in this family was stupid by any means, he often felt like the dumb one and objectively he knew he was still a fucking genius. But even with all of them being That smart no one could keep up with Tim’s innovative and scientific mind.

“I think he might even learn a few things, which is a frightening concept. Danny asked for microwaves and toasters this morning so he could cannibalize them into anti-possession tech. The way that boy combines science and magic is going to give both me and Constantine ulcers.”

Jason snorted, both at the joke and maybe a bit out of pleasure that someone was going to be giving Bruce a hard time. “Well if you need a babysitter don’t call me. I don’t want to deal with any of that,” he chuckled.

“Oh absolutely not, you would only feed into the chaos,” Bruce said quickly making Jason cackle, because he was right.

“Alright,” Bruce murmured to himself when they reached the closed door to the lab, it was almost lost in the banging inside but Jason heard it. Heard Bruce bracing himself for whatever was going to happen when Jason and Danny met.

He opened the door and across the room Jason saw who must be Danny. He was prime adoption bait with his black hair and blue eyes, but he was… absolutely beautiful, slight and elven, gently curved and wired with muscle. Jason froze, and it seemed so did Danny, staring at each other from across the room. Butterflies fluttered in Jason’s stomach, building till they didn’t feel like butterflies but something buzzing, trying to get out. He could hear the growl coming from his chest, not his throat.

Danny’s eyes swirled with green and he vaulted over the work table, abandoning the half finished tech he was working on to lunge at Jason. He collided with Jason with a snarl of his own, Jason growled and flipped Danny over his shoulder, the hall was a closed space so Danny twisted, running into the wall feet first and landing in a crouch. Jason twisted so he didn’t have his back to a wall anymore as Danny lunged at him again and Jason dodged, pushing off the wall to give himself momentum as he threw himself after Danny.

Danny grabbed Jason’s arm and used his momentum to throw him over his hip, following him down to the ground, barely missing as Jason rolled away. He didn’t even think to draw a weapon, that wasn’t what this fight was about, they weren’t actually trying to hurt each other. Even as Jason punched down so hard he cracked the floor he somehow knew Danny would dodge, and wouldn’t get hurt. And Danny did, he got out of the way and lashed out in return, kicking Jason in the chest and sending him flying a few feet back giving Danny time to scramble back to his feet and chase after him.

This give and take carried them down the hall and to the landing by the stairs. Somewhere in the background Jason knew that someone was shouting at them to stop, and to be careful, but he wasn’t listening. He was too focussed on the growl emanating from Danny, and from himself which were starting to smooth out again, to feel less like desperate insects trying to escape and more like a cat’s purr, or some sort of song. They were reaching equilibrium, some sort of harmony.

He didn’t realize how close they were to the stairs until Danny knocked him back again and this time when he stepped back he didn’t land on solid ground. The two of them tumbled down the stairs, rapidly switching who was on top as they fell. Jason could feel himself collecting bruises but he didn’t fucking care.

They came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs with Jason on top, his forearm pressed against Danny’s chest just below his throat. They were both breathing hard, staring at each other with wide blue-green eyes. The growling died down, lowering down into purrs harmonizing with each other as they caught their breath. Jason’s was lower and Danny’s a little higher, it was a hypnotic sound that made Jason feel… peaceful.

Danny moved first, reaching up slowly to touch Jason’s face, but before he could Jason realized what they had done and the position he was in. He had fought with Danny, and he was now pinning an abused teenager to the floor straddling his waist. This looked bad and now that he realized what was happening it Felt worse! He practically shot up off of Danny and was about to bolt before Danny grabbed his hand.

“Wait! Don’t go yet! Let me just, let me get you a specter-deflector so no one can possess you first okay?” Danny asked, sounding oddly desperate and even though Jason wanted to run he nodded.

Danny looked relieved and let go of Jason before suddenly flying up and through the floor above them. Jason blinked at the ceiling above him before looking around him.

Oh dear, Bruce, Tim, Damian, and Jazz were all watching from the landing above. Damian looked like he wanted to kill Jason himself, Bruce looked disappointed, Tim impassive and Jazz looked… Excited? Why did she look happy?

Danny flew back down through the floor before anyone could think of what to say. “Okay! Here’s the specter-deflector,” He said, clicking something that looked like a watch into place around Jason’s wrist. “That’ll protect you, this is a blaster,” he said, handing Jason an odd sci-fi looking gun. “It’ll reload automatically from ambient ectoplasm, it works best against dead and undead but it can hurt humans too. And.. um, this is my number,” He said, blushing furiously as he handed Jason a slip of paper. “Please text me?”

When had Jason’s mouth gotten so dry?! He had to lick his lips before he answered, painfully aware of how hot his cheeks were and that he must be blushing too. He didn’t blush much, not since his death and resurrection, but he was absolutely blushing now, and he was still purring too if more softly now. He didn’t even know that he could purr, not really. “Ya, Yes, I’ll text you,” he promised before he fled the house. He would have to have some of Alfred’s lasagna later, just then he desperately needed to calm down and clear his head.

-----

Jazz was practically vibrating with excitement and as soon as the door had closed behind Jason she couldn’t contain it anymore. She squealed as she vaulted over the railing of the landing and landed in the foyer and sprinting over to Danny. “Danny what the heck! You have a crush?! I haven’t seen you that passionate in ages!” She enthused scooping Danny up under his arms and twirling him around.

“Jaaazz,” Danny complained even as he went kitten limp in her arms letting her hold him at arms length nearly a foot off the floor.

“I didn’t even know you liked boys! Why didn’t you tell me you like boys!?” Jazz demanded, shaking him a little.

“I didn’t really, I mean I always preferred girls. The only guy I ever really had a crush on was Dash and-” He cut off when Jazz made a disgusted face. “Exactly! That was never going to happen and he was an asshole so I didn’t want to talk about it!”

“Okay ya I understand- Wait you were making fun of me for having a thing for bad boys when your type is asshole meathead jocks!? Ohhh you’re never going to hear the end of this baby brother!”

“Oh my god No!” Danny groaned, finally squirming out of Jazz’s hold and dropping back to the ground stepping back.

He turned towards the Wayne’s who had made their way down the stairs while the siblings were talking. “Is Jason an asshole?” He demands of Tim, he’s probably the fairest judge in Danny’s estimation.

“Absolutely,” Tim said promptly before realizing what he said and backtracking a little. “But I’m his brother, I'm supposed to say that. Jason’s heart is in the right place, he's a good guy, just kinda violent and a complete jerk,” Tim said.

“Perfect,” Danny said his expression a little dreamy.

“Why on earth would you have a crush on Todd?! You could do so much better!” Damian squawked indignantly, breaking the tension and making everyone besides Bruce laugh, and even he smiled just a little.

“I want to say you did well Bruce, I know it was hard not to break up the fight but so? It was good for them, I hope it won’t be too hard on you if they do end up dating,” Jazz said, patting Bruce’s arm.

He shifted from one foot to the other a little awkwardly but then shook his head. “No it won’t be, I mean it won’t be the first time, Barbra was as good as my daughter and she dated Dick, and Steph and Tim dated. It’s always a little awkward but I’d rather that than a Super,” He said, shooting Tim a look, he cleared his throat and looked away.

“Well good, we’ll see how this works out but really,” she turned back towards Danny. “This could be good! You’ve always been attracted to violent people but I don’t think that your ghost instincts realized that when Val was shooting at you it wasn’t bonding for her the same way it was for you,” she told him, her tone borderline accusatory.

Danny looked down and shifted from side to side, giving a little shrug. “I know, but she was a good girlfriend, when she wasn’t being Red Huntress and I wasn’t being Phantom. When we were just Danny and Val, it was good.”

“Oh Danny,” She sighed and pulled him into a hug. “I know, but he has the same instincts as you, I’m rooting for you Danny.”

“Thanks Jazz,” Danny said softly, hugging her back.

“Welp, I’m heading back to the lab,” Tim said, obviously uncomfortable with the genuine emotions he made a break for it before he could get roped into any hugs.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #fanfiction #dead on main #jason todd #finally getting help au #Danny is pregnant #trans!Danny #vlad is a creep #bruce wayne #jazz fenton #damian wayne #tim drake #multi part fic #long post #unedited #let me know if you find any mistakes

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tadpolesonalgae · 5 months

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Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 12

Pairing: Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sister!Reader

A/N: Welp, it’s taken like seven chapters to lead up to this, but we’re here now

Word Count: 6,038

-Part 11- -Part 13-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

The flight up to the House of Wind is quiet, but your ears had been ringing before take-off, and you can’t even hear the pulse of your own heart or the puffs of your own breath.

For a few minutes, you allow yourself to cave in. Like a cake that’s sunken in the middle, soft and gooey from too much butter and not enough flour. Your head dips, pressing against his shoulder, able to feel the strokes of chill wind across your cheek, eyes slid shut with fatigue. Wishing the night away, pushing it far below your conscious, burying alongside everything else you don’t want to touch. Pushing into rough but fresh palms, handing it off for someone else to deal with.

His scent presses into your clothes, and you let it, pulse gradually slowing from its war-drum beat in your throat, the sounds beginning to rise to the surface. The leathery rasp of his wings as they fly higher to the House, the steady in and out of his breath, the wind whispering as you cut through it.

The warmth of the wards passes in your ears, and then he’s landing, arms shifting to set you down on the floor carefully. The muscles in your legs are like custard, and you take a moment to steady yourself, raising your gaze to the House before you. He opens the door, guiding you inside silently, taking you to the kitchen and seating you at the table.

You stare down at the grains in the wood, picking out the slight dampness across from you, table clean and empty.

Azriel slides a mug of tea into your vision, still steaming, and your sinuses start to ache. Cold hands wrap around the burning ceramic, feeling the sting begin to seep through the velvet.

Vaguely, you’re aware of him silently moving around the table, taking a seat, but you’re staring into the swirling darkness of the tea, wondering if your tongue will somehow swell and warp like your hands if you drink the mug down as it is.

“You should take your gloves off,” he says quietly, hands around his own mug. “The heat will warm you up faster.”

You silently stare down into the depthless well below you, wishing to plunge inside. Bathe yourself in hot, searing water that’ll purge those prints from your skin. Remould you like the cauldron did, removing the past roughness of your fingertips and constant grit beneath your nails.

Shadows roll up onto the table in thin streaks, dancing deftly atop the surface, as if trapped in water. They flicker and swell in places, thrumming with magic as they reach out. You stiffen as they dip beneath your fingers, prying them gently from the mug. Slipping beneath the fabric at your wrists, pinching lightly at your fingertips, and pulling.

At first your digits curl, but the velvet slides a little more, and you allow it to fall away.

The sickeningly sweet smell of gardenias fills the room, and you draw your hands back, staring at the crumbling skin as you wrap them around the mug, not minding the surface level burn.

“You don’t have to wear those, you know,” he says quietly, watching from across the table. “Nobody would mind.”

Hands tighten around the thick ceramic, raising it to your mouth as you take a sip. It’s boiling. Lower it back to the table, scalding liquid washing down your insides, not enough to thaw the numbness that’s settled over your skin.

“Is it from your magic?” He asks quietly, sliding his fingers through the handle of his mug. Moments tick by, then you dip your head. “It itches sometimes,” you murmur, then seal your lips tight. “Is it itching now?” He asks, keeping your attention.

Below you, the tea swirls, steam wafting from the lip, warm but wet. You shake your head, “I don’t think so. Not yet.” Hazel weighs upon you, and you take another scalding sip, allowing the burn to sear into you. “Not yet?” He echoes, taking a drink from his own mug, watching you steadily over the rim. You remain quiet, not offering up anything else, keeping to yourself.

“How long has this been happening?” He asks instead, once it becomes clear you aren’t going to be coerced by silence. Your eyes don’t leave the mug, fingers tightening around the pale orange ceramic, the low gleam of faelights warming it. “Do you know what it is?”

“I know it hurts,” you say softly, raising your cup, but not drinking. “But you’re going to make me train it regardless, so why don’t we leave out the messy details?”

He pauses, observing you quietly from across the table. You don’t meet his gaze, and it feels like running away. Letting him put himself above you.

Your eyes blink shut, easing in a breath. That’s not what he’s doing at all.

“You likely aren’t doing it right,” he says at last, sipping from his tea, your eyes finally meeting his over the glazed lip. “How would you do it?” You ask quietly—reluctantly—again peering into the swirling blackness of your drink. “I’d have to know what I’m working with first,” he says pointedly, inviting you to tell him more about what’s been going on with your magic.

“Funny,” you murmur, eyes flicking to his, “I’d come to the same conclusion.”

His brow twitches almost imperceptibly, the edges of his mouth souring, and your gaze dips back down to the tea. How nice it would be to burn those handprints from your skin, for once finding yourself craving the searing itch of your magic.

Azriel shifts in his seat, great wings refolding themselves at his back, narrowed hazel piercing into you. “You might’ve hurt a lot of people back there,” he says, setting his mug on the table, one hand wrapped around its base, middle and forefinger curled through the handle.

Your throat rolls, but you choose not to respond, staring deeper into your tea.

He sighs, and you can feel his attention on you. “Tell them tomorrow,” he orders, voice deceptively soft for what he’s asking. Nails press into the ceramic, tension coiling in your shoulders. “I have one more day left. That’s what we agreed,” you mumble, the real world beginning to sink back into your bones. The weight of grief and the strain of anxiety coupling in your body. Having gone from a night of quiet mourning to one of icy violence in under and three hours.

“You put people in danger with that move,” he replies smoothly, appearing relaxed though you can guess he’s anything but. “So you’ll be telling them—at least Feyre—tomorrow. Unless there’s something you’ve discovered this past fortnight?” Even you know your mouth has pressed into a sullen line. Sulking like a child who’s lost a bet.

“I don’t want to figure it out,” you mumble, pulse thrumming in your throat as you stare into the hot tea. “It’s already hurting me. I don’t want anymore.”

“You don’t have a choice,” he counters from across the table.

“Rhysand would disagree,” you argue numbly. You always have a choice.

“Rhys isn’t here right now.”

Hazel collides with your gaze, the green-brown colder than usual. Is this what he’s like without affection numbing your judgement? Have you been seeing what you want to see? You dismiss the thought—things would have worked out better if that was true.

“It’s hurting me, Azriel.” You reiterate, trying to emphasise the pain that lacerates through your bones, without doing exactly that. “Because you’re doing it wrong.”

“And how am I supposed to do it?” You reply, more bitterly than you’ve ever dared speak to him before. He sits back in his chair idly, taking a deep drink from his mug, watching you pointedly over the lip.

“Fine,” you say quietly, but not weakly, staring at him from across the table. “Where would you start?”

“Tell me what you’ve been doing this past week,” he says calmly, “tell me what you’ve found.”

So he was being serious about that, not just trying to prove a point. You look down into your mug, lightly running your finger over the lip. “I’ve been trying to get it to spark,” you reply softly, not meeting his gaze.

“And?”

“That’s it.”

Azriel blinks, watching you silently. Thinking over his words before he speaks. “What have you been doing, exactly. Aside from reading.”

“I told you,” you reply, humiliation grating and twisting in your stomach. “I tried to get to it, but nothing… It didn’t work.”

“Nothing happened, or it didn’t work?” He asks, and you feel the smallest bit of resentment for his acute attention to the things he’s interested in. “It didn’t work,” you relent.

“So what happened?” He pushes, drinking from his mug—an action you’re certain he does to encourage a sense of ease.

Tension buzzes beneath your skin, ringing in your ears then flashing to deafening silence as you think back over the past fortnight. The steady decline of your skin. “I already told you,” you say quietly, noise fading to numbness again. “It began hurting.”

“Tell me what it feels like.”

“Itching,” you reply.

He waits sternly, practically ordering you to give more than a one word answer. Your jaw works, head dipping as brows tighten. “It burns. Usually only in my hands, but when…” —you swallow, remembering how it had spread so rapidly across your skin, only halting at the line of the pendant— “when you… What you saw, that one time…I felt feverish for hours after. My hands hurt the most, and they…” You trail off, not wanting to speak that single night into existence.

“They what?” He prompts quietly, shadows flickering mildly along the grain of the table. Your tongue unsticks from the roof of your mouth, swallowing around a lump in your throat. “They bled a little. I still have sores on my knuckles.” Palms splay as still as possible upon the surface, allowing his eyes to trace the scaly, flaky skin—lumpy in parts.

He gives no visible reaction, but you can’t help to imagine silent disgust. They aren’t a pleasant sight.

“That shouldn’t be happening,” he says, hazel weighing into you, and you hastily bring your hands back to the mug. “You shouldn’t be experiencing pain from accessing your magic.”

A heavy weight forms in your stomach, having sat there for a while now.

“Why not?” You ask hoarsely, meeting his gaze. His brow narrows, watching you silently for a moment. “Because that’s not how magic works,” he replies quietly. “It isn’t in itself good or bad, and so it follows it should not have an impact upon its user. Magic is a tool for the wielder, something to be moulded.”

“But cauldron-given magic isn’t the same,” you mumble, eyes dipping to your hands, knuckles popping from your skin as you hold the mug tighter. “Nesta stole from the cauldron. She wasn’t supposed to have anything. And if she wasn’t supposed to have something, why would I?”

The words hang in the air, only now being allowed to fully take shape in the world, finally spoken aloud. “Elain’s the only one who was given something freely,” you murmur, tea steadily cooling, no longer steaming. “So it makes sense mine…that mine has a catch.”

“No it doesn’t,” he says, and a muscle feathers in your jaw.

“Yes, it does,” you grit out.

“No,” he repeats, shadows flickering closer to you, imploring you to meet his gaze; you refuse. “Even with Nesta’s magic being taken, it never hurt her. Magic doesn’t have sentience.”

This time you meet his gaze, pointedly flicking your eyes to his shadows. “They seem pretty aware.”

Azriel stiffens.

It’s by no means an obvious change, and it may well have been enhanced by your mind, but you felt the air shift. On a subatomic level, something changed.

“You said yourself that magic is something to be moulded,” you force out quietly, gaze dipping away from his, regretting the brief snappiness. “So it becomes a reflection of the user.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re no torturer,” he says dryly.

“Neither are your shadows,” you murmur, watching the blackness of your tea. Humour leeches from the air.

A heavy silence follows, taut and loaded, like a bow pulled tight.

“Elain and I spoke the other day,” you whisper, hands tightening around the mug, practically able to hear your skin rustle with the small movement.

Azriel waits quietly, steadily cataloguing the small inconstancies in your behaviour that have been cropping up throughout the night. He’d put them down to shock from being at such close proximity to violence, but it appears there’s something more.

It’s lucky he’d been feeling so restless earlier, allowing his shadows on a looser leash than usual, able to explore and patrol the city streets, cataloguing details to busy them while he worked. Then a commotion had kicked up, and they’d naturally snuck forward. It was only when they’d caught the balmy floral scent tinged with fear they’d scuttled back to return to him, having split the two males apart once he had you away.

“She’d been off the past few days, and I thought it was because of… I thought I knew what it was.” He watches as your pulse deepens, noting the slight but frequent disturbances between scaly knuckles. He thinks back to the way your spine had shuddered with lonely despair, grief etched into the hunched knots of your shoulders as tears splashed into a small pool where he’s now sitting.

“She had a vision,” you manage thickly, and this time there’s nothing subtle about the way he stiffens. Even his shadows skitter back at the mention of those vivid dreams that had stolen words from her mouth for so many months. Trapped in a state half between reality and fantasy.

“You…you die,” you whisper, hardly a breath. “There’s a flash of light, and then you’re on the ground, and you’re— you’re bleeding out.”

“The light?” He asks hoarsely, features tight.

“Green. Like Starfall, she said.”

Azriel stares at you, the top of your head, spine bowed before him in such a meagre, inoffensive stance. Somehow, you’ll be the death of him.

Questions fall from his lips, about the vision: where was it set? What events led up to it? Was there anyone else? What happened after?

In a forest, bargain rings formed with a fox, no one else present, the steep grassy slope with the bone-grey gate and dripping blue web.

He stares at you for a long time, and you keep silent. Wondering if he’ll get to you before you get to him.

“All the more reason for you to train,” he says at last, still staring at the dipped top of your head. Teeth bite the inside of your lip, brows narrowing as heat warms behind your eyes.

“When did you find out?” He asks, refusing to do as much as consider leaving the trail. Who knows where his might might wonder, with the freedom to finally ponder his end.

“The day before yesterday. When I came out of her room.”

No wonder you’d looked so shaken. No wonder Elain hadn’t wanted to speak with him. No wonder you’d been acting so strangely this evening, with everything coiled tight.

“All the more reason to have the others involved,” he says finally. Cassian and Nesta aren’t to return for another week yet, but their plates are full. There’s no way to ask them to take on a task like this, it would be too much to handle. A familiar ache blossoms through the bones of his hands, the signs of restlessness setting in. He still has so many reports to get through, then to manage the topic of your strange magic as well as the vision…to find himself a replacement, too.

Before him, you nod, still clutching the now-cold cup of tea.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Okay.”

————

The parchment lays tauntingly upon the volume, stretched out lazily, practically grinning at you with that razor-sharp smile.

Write again when you’re ready to show your claws.

Well, if there’s ever going to be a time for you to step outside of your circle, it’s now. Taking the first step over the rickety old threshold, moving from mildew smelling wood, toward the crisp freshness of cold wintry air.

You remember what Elain had told you—about the twin bands that forged an alliance. Under no circumstance will you allow even the first step of the prophecy to be fulfilled. So long as you don’t actually enter into a bargain with him, you can stave off the inevitable. Keep it at bay until a solution is found.

The pen trembles in your hand, and dark droplets stain the parchment, having forgotten to clean the nib on the lip of the pot. The words are carved into the paper, looking more permanent than etchings on a grave stone.

How do you feel about a bargain?

The paper vanishes, and your heart pounds in your throat. It’s been a while since you last wrote to one another. What if he’s become bored?

To your surprise, his response is prompt, but you waste no time on considering why he’s up so late in the night, already blending into early morning. Your heart pounds harder when you read his message, pen trembling lightly in your hand.

What trouble have you gotten yourself into, cygnet?

Even through the paper, you find yourself able to hear the condescending lilt of his voice. You can’t help but feel you’ve walked right into whatever trap he’s set for you, but you’re left with no choice but to continue.

I’m serious, Eris.

The parchment vanishes, and you wonder if you should have continued with the first point to keep his attention, but— You can’t let him know how badly you need this. He might not be as bad as the others have made him out to be, but you’d be foolish to trust him entirely. You need to keep your cool.

But then the paper reappears.

I can tell from your wobbly handwriting.

You scribble on the page.

Incredibly articulate, as always.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach, and you sit back in the chair, glaring at the parchment. Teeth chew on your lower lip, pen dipping into the ink pot, hovering over the page, but hesitating. It’s so insane to be doing this—even you can see that. But it’s insane you’re having to be confronted with your own source of magic as well as a vision predicting Azriel’s death.

If you remain idle, he’ll be the one to pay.

They haven’t snatched you up already, have they?

Something cold and slimy ices down your spine, staring at the words, lips twisting down at the sinister question.

What do you mean? You write back, this time keeping your hand as steady as possible.

The parchment vanishes, and you’re left with a sour feeling in your stomach. You’d forgotten about the edge that weighs at the back of your mind whenever writing to him, like he has a dagger idly tracing the knots of your spine. You raise your hand, fingers lightly tracing the nape of your neck, clearing the area.

Paper reappears, and you hesitate, sucking in a light breath before leaning forward to read.

I was under the impression your oldest sister had to undergo some unpleasant rehabilitation. I wouldn’t put it pass Rhysand to do the same to you.

You give him no time to sense your doubt, setting pen to parchment thoughtlessly.

You’re lying. You have nothing to base that on.

You clearly haven’t been filled in on our meetings if you think things are well enough that you have the luxury of inaction.

What the hell does that mean?

You glare at the paper, pulse bumping against your rib cage.

Are you interested or not?

The page vanishes, and you fall back into the habit of counting. One…two…three… Hands fumble with the volume, unread since you last wrote to him. The book isn’t even fully opened before his response is delivered.

I wouldn’t have bothered talking with you if you were entirely bland.

Your expression sours, apprehension draining as you glare at the parchment.

Is that supposed to a compliment?

Paper vanishes, the reappears seconds later.

I don’t give them out often.

The edges of your mouth quirk, familiar discomfort settling over your skin.

I can tell. You need some practice.

The paper again disappears, and you again return to the book, scanning the short title—one you’ve already read. You flip forward, scanning the text to see if it’s something you haven’t yet reached or not.

Parchment settles over the page, returned to you.

Is that any way to be writing to me? I’m under the distinct impression you want something.

Curious, Eris?

Fascinated.

You lean back in your chair, breathing steadily. Reaching habitually for the emptying pot of hand cream. Taking a moment to pause, regulating your heartbeat. This has to happen one way or another, and as it is, it’s the best you can do to keep the prophecy at bay.

I want to learn more about what I can do.

Go on.

Good gods. This is mad. What are you doing?

I know I have something. You write, easing in deep breaths, stretching your feet, body stiffening over the parchment. You know I have something. I want to know more. And I think you do, too.

There it is, written down on paper. Your offer.

The parchment vanishes, a cool sweat sliding down your spine, thumbs rubbing the remaining cream into your skin, rubbing over the dry scaliness, gliding over the stray lumps in your knuckles, the area around your nails dead and hardened.

I��m sure your High Lord would be intrigued by your offer. He’s written. What’s in this for me? If Rhysand finds out what you’re planning, I’ll be the one to take the brunt of his fury, and that’s not what our alliance needs.

He won’t find out. You write.

Forgive me if I doubt that.

A frustrated sigh leaves your chest, pulse beginning to spike.

What do you want?

Tell me what you’re seeking first. Then I’ll decide my price.

You swallow. Unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

I need to hide for a bit.

The parchment vanishes, and a split second of doubt ripples through your fingers, crushing weight pulling on your shoulders.

You’re in trouble.

A little.

To do with your magic.

Maybe.

Moments tick by, but you’re unable to read, vision slanting at the edges as you stare at the blank space, chewing on your tongue until copper spills, coating your mouth. Stress peels down your skin.

You’re asking for refuge.

I didn’t say that.

The paper vanishes and reappears in seconds, and you briefly shoot a glare at the letter.

Lost interest?

For how long?

You blink, thinking. You hadn’t gotten this far. How long would you need? If you tried to bring it out…even through the pain…

How long is possible?

Another silence. He’s probably guessing how serious this is. Probably already knows. Calculating away at your expense.

A month. Take it or leave it.

Eris I need more than a month.

There’s no way you could master it in a month. Both Feyre and Nesta took much longer, it’s unachievable.

The paper reappears, nothing added since, anxiety being sprinkled upon your mind. Your fingertips prickle, and you wring your hands together before relenting, putting pen to paper.

How soon can the month start?

How badly do you need it?

(How badly do you need me?)

Promptly, you respond, dodging the question. You’ve got to be careful around him, the last thing you need is him knowing about Elain’s vision before it’s even been spoken about with the rest of them. You can only imagine what he’d do with that sort of information to hold over you, however briefly.

Tomorrow?

Within the hour would be appreciated.

Very badly.

You scowl at the page, able to hear his mocking tone through the letters.

This isn’t funny, Eris.

I didn’t say it was.

I can hear your mirth through the paper.

The parchment vanishes, taking a while to reappear. You can imagine his lips pressing together—the same way he had when you’d fallen into the river.

You have unbelievably acute hearing.

You glare hard at the paper. Wishing it would burst into flames.

Is it plausible? To be away within the hour?

I suppose.

Yes or no?

Time ticks away, sitting still as you wait, muscles tense as you absently peer down at the flaky skin. You begin running through a list of things to do should he agree: you’ll need to pack, to find a reason to disappear for a month, to… That’s it. Clothes, and an alibi. But how in the world are you going to find something to keep you away from them for a month. You don’t like the idea of breaking from the agreement with Azriel, but you suppose technically he broke it first…

Teeth worry your lower lip, head resting in your hands, breathing heavily as you peer through cool fingertips. This whole night has been a blur.

If you aren’t there to tell them, it’s a safe bet that Azriel will go ahead with it anyway, regardless if you’re present or not.

All you need is a reason to vanish.

Flashing images of sawtoothed ice crackle through your mind, vacant gold filled with sparks.

Your stomach sinks, seeing a way through.

It’s wrong. Wrong and hurtful to him, being used for your own needs. But if it’s for a greater good…

The paper reappears, and you’re out of time to figure out a cover plan.

Eyes scan the single word, written in a neat, elegant script.

Yes.

————

He’d be furious with you.

He wouldn’t show it, but you know what you’re doing isn’t right. And what you’re about to do is much worse.

Hands grip the straps of your bags tighter, two strung over your shoulder, ready to leave. As many clothes as you could fit, as well as the volume Eris had given you. The small, deep blue box burns against your thigh, searing through the fabric of your pocket.

“Bas?” You call, wary of making a disturbance.

Minutes feel like hours as they drip by, the door eventually cracking open.

His lip is split, and his nose looks soft and broken, no blood in sight save for the bruising across his cheek. Gold gutters as he sees you, making to turn away but you stick your foot over the threshold, hand landing atop his, having him flinch.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, voice rough and raw, thyme and rosemary tinged with copper. “I wanted to check on you,” you say, quietly, heart pounding. “I don’t have a lot of time. There’s a lot I want to say to you right now and more I wish I could explain, but I want to know how you are.”

His throat rolls, and he relents on the door, allowing it open a little more. He’s changed clothes, having cleaned himself up since you last saw him. Mere hours ago.

Wordlessly, you extend your arm, returning the warm over-piece he’d lent to you. He takes it silently, hanging it over the hook beside the door, deeper in his house.

“Are you… Have you taken care of yourself?” You ask quietly. He stiffens, but nods numbly, and you can tell he’s being truthful. “What did you want to say?” He asks, diverting the topic, causing your pulse to spike erratically. “I need your help with something,” you admit hoarsely, gold latching with your gaze, a spark of awareness returning, telling you to continue.

You shift beneath his attention, gripping the straps tighter. “I can’t tell you what it is, or where I’m going,” —Bas startles at that, straightening— “But I need to leave for a bit.” Anxiety rolls across your chest as you feel him staring at you. But remaining silent. “I just need a week to figure things out, but until then I need you to help,” you whisper.

He scans your features, searching for clues, dropping repeatedly to your bags as if they might hold the answer.

“What do you need me to do?” He asks quietly, warily.

“If anyone comes asking for me, I need you to tell them I’m with you,” you say, meeting his gaze. “It’ll only end badly for me otherwise. Nobody can know where I’m going or why. I need that privacy, Bas.”

He stares down at you, lips parted, eyes slightly wider than usual. “You— what?” He hisses at last, grip tightening on the door, and you consciously take a subtle step back, watching as he marks the action, features shifting from shock to guilt in the blink of an eye. His posture stiffens, and he straightens, getting a hold of himself, pulling back into his home.

“I can’t— I’m not lying to your family,” he murmurs, unable to look at you, gaze cast down. “You’ve been so insistent on me asking for help when I need it Bas,” you remind quietly, guilt soaking into the chambers of your heart. “Well, I need it,” you whisper, hardly able to get the words out. “I need you.”

The dilemma rolls behind his eyes, scenarios flashing through and playing out in his head. “What would I even say?” He asks softly, voice raw. There’s no time for embarrassment, you have to meet Eris in under an hour, so you push it aside. “Just say I’m on my cycle, and I wanted to be some place safe,” you say quietly, dipping your head in a show of vulnerability. Allowing warmth to heat your skin, fingers tightening around your bags. “It should keep them away for a little, if they think that I’m…” you trail off purposefully.

“Yeah,” he whispers to himself, nodding. “I get it.”

Seconds pass and you shift on your feet, displaying your distress. “Can you— I mean, will you do that for me?” You ask hoarsely, forcing your gaze to meet with worn out gold, tired and weak from the long night. He appears indecisive, torn between you and his rulers.

“Just a week,” you remind softly. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t…” You guiltily shift on your feet, and at last he nods.

“Okay,” he whispers, hands shifting on the door. “Okay. But one week. And you’re not doing anything dumb.”

“One week,” you agree nodding. “And nothing dumb.”

“I’m serious,” he emphasises, moving to reach for you, but hesitating, then pulling back into himself. Guilt bubbles up your throat, wriggling beneath your flesh. You want to apologise, to cry and tell him you’re sorry for putting him in this position. After all he’s done for you.

“Tell me you’re going to be okay,” he says quietly, watching you.

“I’m going to be okay,” you reassure, tongue flicking out over your lips.

If he can tell you’re lying, he doesn’t show it.

Bas nods stiffly and silence stretches between you, a rope slowly going taut.

“Okay,” he murmurs, releasing the door, pushing upright. “Be safe, yeah?”

Your throat rolls, but you nod. “Yeah. I will.”

————

The entrance to the tunnel looms before you, right where Eris said it would be.

You walk down into this, and it will take you straight to him, no going back.

You shift the bags on your shoulders, the weight nudging against the little blue box at your thigh.

With a heavy breath, you turn, scanning the trees before you, barely able to make out the speckled lights of Velaris in your wake. A strange sense of melancholy nostalgia settles across your skin, except it’s thick and lined with heaviness. Like you’re leaving behind something you never quite got to enjoy, leaving before you’re ready, suddenly extracted from your life. Lifted and replaced.

You hadn’t expected to fear being away from them. You hadn’t expected to miss them so soon—not even out of the Night Court yet. But the prophecy haunts your steps, driving you apart in order to keep them together. Azriel will tell them about your powers, the vision will come to light, and they’ll understand why you went away. It’s safer like this.

Exhaling steadily, you turn back to the open tunnel, and begin the descent.

The darkness wraps around you quickly, and a sense of confusion prickles at your skin, like your brain has been turned around, direction wobbling. All you can do is continue on forward, putting one foot in front of the other, wandering deeper into the pitch blackness.

A crisp breeze plays with the sleeves of your dress, wrapped in the thickest scarf you could find. The chill of autumn washes over you, sweeping into your lungs, soothing the anxious heat of your skin, cooling down your spine. You pause, the early dawn colours of grey-blue glowing faintly in the distance, nearing the end of the tunnel. Taking in a deep breath, you allow the tension to roll from your muscles, soothed and softened by the freshness of it all. The newness.

When you reach the tunnel’s exit, you’re greeted by an unrecognisable figure, but that possesses autumn court uniform, taking you securely by the arms, before a flash of icy air shocks your skin, dropping through the dizziness of winnowing until you’re within the confines of a castle, great braziers lighting the walls either side a small door. The male instructs you to wait inside, then leaves, disappearing silently off down the hallway without another word.

You quietly open the door, finding that it leads to a windowless room the size of your old bedroom from the hut, lit by three candles. To the left is a neat, single bed with a small closet at its foot, a thin rug over the cold floor, and a writing desk pushed against the other side of the room. A door leads away into what you hope is a washroom.

Overall, it’s sparse and bare, but the air is warm and dry, smelling faintly of pastry, and you wonder where it’s coming from. From the looks of the area, it’s a place usually assigned to servants or handmaids, likely given to you to draw less attention—it would be odd if a Lady suddenly took up temporary home in the Autumn Palace without having to greet any of the Members of Court, so you suppose a place like this is ideal. Which must mean you’re near the kitchen, hence the warmth and smell of pastry.

Fatigue weighs on your bones, lids sliding shut before you’ve even made it to the bed.

You hardly manage to keep your eyes open long enough to remove your gloves and rub cream into the skin, the sickening smell of gardenias permeating the previously pleasant aroma of jams and tarts and other breakfast pieces. It has your stomach rumbling but you’re far too tired to do much, save for setting your bags down and putting the volume on the desk.

Shoes are lethargically toed away, scarf unfolding and put beside the volume before padding over to the bed, rummaging through your bags in search of a night gown. Discarding your clothes and paying a brief visit to the door in the corner—which is indeed a tiny washroom—before pulling on the ankle length gown, slipping into a thick pair of socks, blowing out the candles.

The bed is soft despite the thin mattress, and you settle beneath the covers, muscles the most relaxed they’ve been in a long time, exhausted from a day of emotional turbulence.

Breaths sigh in and out, settling into a peaceful rhythm, deepening as you begin to finally sink into the shallow waters of sleep.

Comfort sweeps over you like a fresh blanket, warm and clean after a long day, finally ready to rest.

“You’ve been here for the lesser part of an hour,” a voice calls from the door, dripping with displeasure. “Get up. It’s morning.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel x you #azriel x yn #cbmthy #multi part fic

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readychilledwine · 7 months

Note

helloooo! had a super random idea that I thought I’d throw your way but if you don’t want to write it, no worries! i know there’s not really dragons in acotar but what if one of the bat boys (whoever you want to write this for) encounters a group of dragons and find an illyrian with them who was raised by dragons. (The dragons think she’s one of them bc she has wings lol) a female who was abandoned by their parents because they wanted a son or something like that. (but now I’m thinking what if she was cassian’s long lost sister or something but in that case obviously she wouldn’t be paired with cassian lol) and she’s basically like half feral and whoever you pair her with is her mate and cannot convince her to go with them to velaris but they figure it out somehow 🥹 and when they finally do she’s just like baffled by simple things like dresses and kitchen utensils and how soft their beds are 😂 and now the night court has a small army of dragons because they listen to her 🤷🏽‍♀️ you can make her an OC if you want!

I can respond to this now that Bound by Fate Part 3 is up and has some traction 🤣 I was going to ask if you got into my Google drive somehow. Kaylee is going to have a similar journey to this only Kaylee's is going to be based on the concept that magic has a price, and the more magic she uses, the bigger the price, where as this journey will be about finding her humanity.

I'm pretty excited about this. Not gonna lie. 💜

Flight Patterns Part 1

Summary - After years of hushed whispers and leads, Azriel has finally found Cassian's lost sister, Aerilyn. What he found with her was unexpected, though.

Warnings - violence

A/n - Aerilyn is going to be fairly feral for these first few parts. Also, she speaks sindarian (like Lord of the Rings elves sindarian, so translations will be at the end of the chapters)

Part Two Part Three

Aerilyn stared at the male wrapped in shadows as if she'd never seen another illyrian before. As if she'd never seen another fae before, Azriel thought to himself.

She was beautiful, exactly as he had expected her to be, with her long dark hair cascading into waves behind her, her tanned unmarked skin, the bright burning hazel eyes. She was a softer, smaller, and delicate version of Cassian.

Azriel approached her slowly, his hands raised in front of him. " I do not want to hurt you. I have been looking for you for a very, very long time." Over 319 years to be exact. With you right under our noses this whole time, he thought bitterly to himself.

She had been left to die after her wings were taken. Thrown into the Illyrian woods beaten and bloodied before Cassian eventually burnt that Camp to the ground. She was three at the time. How she survived was a mystery, one Azriel knew they'd need to figure out.

She eyed him cautiously, her head tilted to the side before taking a step back and away from him. "I won't hurt you, Aerilyn." Her eyes narrowed, but then she suddenly relaxed. A small smile forming on her face as Azriel felt the ground shaking behind him.

He felt the warm breath of whatever it was before the deep growl came. His eyes shut slowly at the scent of ember and rot that lingered in the air. He turned slowly, feeling shock set into his system as he sat face to face with a fire Drake. He felt the ground rumble again, then again, and once more. Rhys. I'm going to need help. Now. Drop whatever the fuck you're doing.

Cassian and Rhys appeared beside him instantly. A grumbled, "Cauldron fucking drown me," leaving the generals mouth as they all stood back to back. "Azriel, what the fuck?"

Azriel looked to where Aerilyn stood, her eyes locked on Cassian and her head tilted to the side. "She knows you, Cass. And they're protecting her." He could tell his brother was avoiding looking at her. Avoiding the pain that'd come from how much she truly looked like their mother.

Rhysand grabbed their hands. "You have 30 seconds, Cassian or I'm getting us the fuck out of here."

Cassian glanced at his little sister, his heart tightening in his chest at how small she was. They held eye contact for a moment and he lowered his weapons and held his hands up to her. He took one step and an immediate growl and shift came from the winged beast closest to him. A deep warning not to approach her. "Would she have memories of anything specific? Something special between the two of you?" Rhys asked softly. "I can't get into her head. It's.. it's a mess, Cassian."

Cassian didn't notice the feather light touch in Rhysand's jaw, the way his eyes kept flickering to the female in concern. Azriel had, though. He noted the immediate change in Rhysand's body language. The calm and composed High Lord was struggling to maintain himself.

Azriel would have laughed if there wasn't a black scaled beast staring him down as if he was nothing more than a delicious snack.

Cassian spoke to her softly. "When you were little, you had a little stuffed bunny. His name was Sir Hop." A flicker of recognition went across her face. Cassian took a small step forward. The beast growled softer this time. "I still have him," the soft confession hung in the air. "Rhysand's mom enchanted it. She made sure he'd never stop smelling like you. You could not sleep without him or me. Mom said you just tossed and turned crying constantly if he went missing or I was gone. I always worried about if you were sleeping when our father ripped me from the house." Another tentative step, but no growl chilling the three of them to the core.

She studied Cassian hard. Stepping close to him until they were but an arms length away. Her brain knew him. It screamed for her to remember him. She didn't understand all of his words, but she knew his voice. His scent. "Come with me," Cassian offered. "Come home with me."

"Cassian, 5 seconds. If she does not take your hand in 5 seconds, we are done here." Rhys warned as one of the beasts, a lighter Grey monster that seemed to blend into its surroundings leaned closer to the High Lord and growled.

For whatever reason, this beast wanted him dead.

"Duar," a feminine voice that reminded Rhysand of finely aged wine, spoke softly. The beast coiled away from him with one last growl. She was so close to Cassian, breathing in the scent of a warm fire and winter winds.

"You have a freckle on your ribs," Cassian whispered, his hand reaching out to touch right above her heart. "Right here." She allowed him to bring her into him. He held her close as her arms stayed at her side.

Rhys took the chance, his hands shooting for Cassian and Azriel and winnowing them back to the townhouse with heavy breaths.

The hug was no longer gentle, not as her fight began. Aerilyn kicked, screamed, and fought as Cassian pulled her into the warded house. Madja was there and ready, knowing the girl would need medical attention and an evaluation.

After watching her land a harsh closed fist onto Rhysand's cheek as he spoke to her, Madja immediately switched what she had planned, grabbing a needle filled with a sedative and shoving it into the illyrian female's arm.

"I'm sorry," Cassian cried as he lowered her to the floor. "I'm so fucking sorry. Shhhh it's okay. It's okay, you're safe."

His sister fell asleep in his arms, wrapped tight against his body as he rocked her back and forth against his chest.

Rhysand held his jaw, "She knows s few words and the alphabet. We will need to work on that to communicate with her," he ground out. "She can speak an ancient language I do not even know, but Amren might. Also, she's my fucking mate."

Cassian watched in silence as Rhysand left the room, went upstairs, and slammed another door shut with a soft click to indicate he had locked it.

Madja inclined her head to the bed they had ready for her, "Lay her down. I don't need her awake to know how healthy she is or what she needs."

Duar - "stop/hault"

#acotar #rhys acotar #rhysand x oc #batboys #rhysand acotar #multi part fic

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britany1997 · 19 days

Text

Fate Yields For No One

Chapter Five

Well y’all, it’s been a month so you know what that means:):) Hope you enjoy the next installment in the series! I can’t wait to show y’all how this fic is going to develop even further!

Poly Lost Boys x Max’s Daughter Reader

Comment to be added to my Taglist for this fic or for all my Lost Boys fics!

FYFNO Masterlist

California, 1986

The boys were too stunned to speak.

Until Paul abruptly broke the silence with a resounding “what the fuck.”

You pulled away from Maria’s embrace when a familiar voice shattered your moment. You sighed, pushing your frustration down and turning to glare at the blond menace.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone.

The same feeling you’d had when you’d met Paul a couple weeks ago surged through you once more as you met eyes with each of his friends.

The bleach blond one looked disgusted, almost angry, with his eyes narrowed and his mouth fixed into a sneer.

The curly haired one bit his gloved thumb, his eyes skittered back and forth between you, Maria, and his friends. He bounced, shifting his weight back and forth from one foot to the other, practically vibrating.

The dark haired one was unreadable. Your eyes narrowed as you took in his expression. You searched for nervousness, anger, sadness, anything. But his face revealed nothing, it was almost intriguing.

Paul looked broken. His mouth slightly agape and his eyes resembling those of a kicked puppy. Despite his pitiful appearance, you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel any remorse.

You reminded yourself that you’d always been entitled to make your own damn choices.

The little utterances of “mine” that broke through their lips meant nothing to you. You had never belonged to anyone but yourself. And you had always been your own to give.

You crossed your arms and scowled, daring them to intrude any further on your time with Maria.

You felt a hand slide along your cheek, turning your head slowly until you were faced with your lover.

“Hey,” she soothed, staring into your eyes with a slightly nervous gaze. You softened immediately.

“It’s getting late, we’re already closed, and it seems like you need to talk this out,” she said gently.

You took her soft hands in your own. “No, please don’t go,” you pleaded, “it’s them who should leave.”

When she smiled, it didn’t reach her eyes.

“We’re working the night shift together tomorrow,” she reminded you, “figure this out ok? I’ll be here.”

She leaned in to kiss your cheek, “I’ll always be here for you ok?”

“Ok,” you whispered back as you stroked her face softly, causing a blush to rise on her cheeks.

Paul cleared his throat loudly and you shot him a glare that would have peeled paint.

Maria’s hand over yours calmed you down just a bit. She reassured you with a smile before she slipped out the front door.

With Maria gone, you were free to feel the depth of your frustration at the four men before you.

“What do you want?” You grit out through clenched teeth.

Paul threw up his hands, “what is wrong with you?”

Your face flushed red, half with embarrassment, and half with anger. You clenched your fists. Nothing was wrong with you. Something was clearly wrong with him because he couldn’t. take. a hint.

The dark haired vampire shot Paul a look that seemed to reign him in. Then he stepped forward to put himself between you and the three other men.

“I’m Dwayne,” he introduced himself gently, his face still devoid of any emotion.

“Ok,” you spat, “congratulations.”

His mask broke a bit, looking slightly taken aback by your hostility, but he quickly composed himself.

“We just want to talk,” he said, his hands up in a sort of surrender, “let us explain some things to you.”

Your eyes narrowed, and without Maria there to diffuse the situation, your arms crossed again.

“Explain things to me?” You felt rage bubbling up inside you, “what could you possibly have to explain to me?”

Dwayne, to his credit, maintained his calm, collected demeanor. The bleach blond however seemed to be seething behind him.

“It’s hard to know where to start…we’re your-”

“I know.” You cut him off.

“You know?”

“I know what you are, and I know what we are,” you flashed him your fangs.

The four boys couldn’t hide their shock. The bleach blond one pushed past Dwayne to stare you down. “You’re not a human,” he mused.

Dwayne placed a hand on his shoulder, “David…” he warned.

David rolled his shoulder to shove off Dwayne’s hand.

“Listen sweetheart,”

You scowled at the pointed nickname.

“You’re ours,” Paul cringed at David’s words.

“The sooner you get it through your thick head,” David tapped your forehead, causing you to bare your teeth, “the better.”

“Oh fuck,” Paul whispered.

You stared David down, your body shaking slightly in anger. “If you ever fucking touch me again I will rip your head from your shoulders and burn your decapitated body you arrogant asshole,” You hissed.

He hissed back, his fangs on full display.

“David please,” the curly hair vampire begged.

“Marko,” David turned to growl, “I won’t tolerate this kind of insubordination.”

You gripped the edge of the video store desk so hard you thought it might break off.

Dwayne yanked David back by his arm. With the way the bleach blond man glared at the him you thought they might come to blows.

“Do you think you’re helping right now?” Dwayne asked.

David rolled his eyes, “she’s disrespecting me, she’s disrespecting us.” he glared at you.

You scowled back, trying to seem unfazed by his egotistical display.

“Is that what she’s doing?” Dwayne asked, “or is she setting boundaries and making choices you don’t like?”

Your hostile face dissolved to shock. You weren’t expecting that kind of support.

“Love can’t be forced,” Dwayne continued, “you know that, I know you know that.”

David stared at Dwayne before sighing deeply.

You tensed when he moved towards you. “This isn’t over,” he hissed.

You scoffed, “yeah that’s what he said,” you hooked your thumb towards Paul, “I’ll tell you what I told him. It sure seems like it is.”

David’s eyes narrowed but he kept his mouth shut.

“C’mon boys,” he gestured for the men to follow him out of the store.

Dwayne didn’t even glance back as he left.

Marko shot you a longing look, but when you looked away, he sighed before following Dwayne out the door.

Paul lingered. He opened his mouth, only to close it, time after time.

“What do you want?” you scowled.

“We could make you happy,” he said in the softest voice you’d ever heard. “I could make you happy.”

You stared at him, his eyes full of hope and desire.

“If you really want me to be happy…”

He moved closer, hanging on every word you said. His fists clenched at his side, desperate to touch you but holding back.

“Then I need you to leave me alone.”

His face fell, any hope in his eyes had shattered and dissolved.

He turned away, dead heart breaking in his chest.

“Ok,” was all he could muster as he too disappeared from the store.

As soon as he’d slipped from sight, you rushed to the front door to flip the sign from open to closed.

Grateful for the solace that an empty store provided, you slunk to the back room to mull over the events of the night.

You slid down the door until you were seated, head in hands. Part of you wondered if it would be so bad to give in. The Dwayne guy seemed respectful and kind enough, and if you were honest with yourself, you weren’t unattracted to him either.

If you were really honest, you weren’t unattracted to any of them. Except that David asshole.

It wasn’t his face that bothered you, but his abismal attitude. He might as well have been Max Jr.

He didn’t own you. No one fucking did.

Then there was Maria.

Her beautiful face flashed through your mind. She was kind, she was brilliant, she was caring, and you could see yourself falling for her one day.

God you’d had your first kiss with Maria tonight and you were thinking about those possessive vamps?

How could you ever consider trading her in for these four strangers with nothing but some kind of empty ‘claim’ on you.

You sighed.

You couldn’t deny that you’d felt the pull. You blamed your stupid, uncontrollable vampire instincts.

But what was lust, passion, and desire when compared with connection, comfort, and love?

Maria was the one you wanted. You chose her, and you’d do what you had to to keep her.

Whatever it took.

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cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

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Make You Wish Chapter Six -- Stolas

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Previous Part: Chapter Five -- The Conversation

Warnings: None for this chapter I don't think but please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,568

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Make You Wish Master List

A/N I promise I am working on getting requests out as quick as I can. Apologies for them taking a while, things have been super hectic recently and I am also massively depressed.

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

Y/n thanked the imp guard who let her into the office gracefully as she entered the space. It was dark, all the curtains drawn to cover the windows. The small speck of light that escaped their grasps traversed the floor frantically, bringing Stolas into high relief. He was sitting at his desk, bent over it with his hands tangled in the feathers of his hair. He looked stressed and appeared not to have noticed Y/n's presence. She cleared her throat.

"You asked to see me?"

Stolas raised his head, turning to face her with wide, nearly unseeing eyes. Long ago such a look from such a demon would have sent a shiver down Y/n's spine. Now, she simply watched him. Things had changed, she had changed. The afterlife had finally hardened her.

"Yes." he got to his feet, walking over to her, "I wanted to- what are you wearing?"

Y/n rolled her eyes. The judgment and scrutiny thick on his tongue wasn't helped by his posh accent.

"Clothes?" she indignantly responded.

There wasn't a way for her to exist around the man who owned her soul that wasn't guarded, inside and out. She crossed her arms, tapping her foot slightly.

"My dear, you look lik-"

"Don't call me that." Y/n interrupted, "I've asked you before. I don't like it."

The name was an infringement of boundaries. It simulated closeness and before today drove the nails of loss further into the muscle of her heart. In a way, it still did. Alastor was back but, he had still gone and things were still different. Y/n couldn't quite get a read on him yet, his plans and ambitions, his purpose in returning and in finding her.

She felt like what he wanted was for things to go back to normal, to the way they had been. Y/n knew that was an impossible future for her and had the slight idea that it might be for him as well. To be perfectly honest, Y/n wasn't sure she even really wanted things to go back.

The dress had been nice and she had wished for Alastor to return many times over the years but she had also worked hard for her life. She had tried, put all her effort in, and she liked the person that had come out the other side. There was a fear in Alastor's return, a fear that with him back, all her hard work would be undone. That she would comfortably let herself slip back into the familiar, becoming nothing but his guest star once again. Still, she knew Alastor, knew he would always do what it took to get what he wanted regardless of how anyone else felt about it. It was the one truly consistent thing about him.

"My apologies." Stolas sighed, "I was simply taken aback by your appearance. You look like a human."

"I know." she hummed, unable to keep the slight smile, the slight hint of warmth from her voice.

Y/n was conflicted about Alastor but she was still happy he was back, overjoyed even. The conflict didn't stop those feelings from bubbling to the surface.

"It was a gift."

"A gift?" Stolas repeated, intrigued, "From whom?"

"It doesn't matter." Y/n shook her head, all semblance of a smile falling from her features, "Why did you ask me to come?"

"Always straight to business with you." he mused, "It wasn't Blitzo, was it? I know you two are close..."

There was an unvoiced fear in his question. Y/n couldn't quite trace it's origin. Stolas was always odd when it came to the imp in question however and so, she payed it no mind. There was enough going on without any added pressure or confusion concerning the man who owned her soul and her dear friend.

"No, it wasn't Blitzo. It was an old friend of mine."

"An old friend... it wouldn't happen to be the Radio Demon, would it?" Stolas asked in mild disgust at the thought, "I saw that little show he put on, treating poor Vox so distastefully, so no use trying to hide the fact that he has returned."

Stolas knew Y/n had been close with Alastor before his disappearance. At the beginning of their arrangement, he had been so set on them being friends and had quizzed Y/n about her life at every opportunity. Eventually, Y/n's lack of equal enthusiasm beat him into submission but Stolas still drew on what he did know when necessary.

"Stolas, it doesn't concern you." Y/n sighed, "You own my soul, not my social life."

There was a tense moment, a sharp, shared gaze. Stolas relented.

"You are correct. I just know how hurt you were the last time and men like him... Y/n, they don't change."

Unbidden anxiety snuck momentarily into Y/n's mind and she beat it back with a baseball bat. These were thoughts for later, to run her hands over when she was alone in her room. It didn't matter that he was giving voice to her deepest concerns and confusions, this was neither the time nor the place to address them.

"I figured things out, learned to fend for myself." she replied, working hard to keep her voice even and respectful, "I'll do it again need be."

Stolas was not a man of violence but he was one who had a great capacity for it. Y/n knew this, Y/n was always careful around him because of this. It wasn't like Alastor where camaraderie flowed easily between them, creating an even ground in place of a power imbalance. While Stolas could on occasion be kind, pleasant, even endearing in Y/n's gaze, she always knew exactly where they both stood when she was in his presence.

"I'm just worried about you."

"Why?"

She hadn't meant to ask it. All the pressure, the changes of the day had been building up inside her and begun to trickle over the edges. She needed to be alone.

Stolas seemed equally as taken aback by her question as Y/n had been in asking it. He struggled to speak, his mouth opening and shutting several times before he finally spoke. It was as if even he didn't know the answer.

"You work for me, I don't want you ending up useless."

It was out of character and inane, they both knew it. Y/n didn't press the matter any further, ready to leave and get on with her life. Ready to sleep and see if things were real when she woke up.

"So, what did you need me to do?"

Stolas cleared his throat, comfort and authority seeping back into his being. He was such a strange man, so powerful yet so unsure. Y/n never quite knew what to do with him.

"I need the book, my grimoire."

"It's not the full moon already, is it?"

That was the deal: IMP got to use the book except for when it was the full moon. Stolas shook his head.

"No, it isn't but there is a festival in the Wrath Ring I need to conduct a ceremony at. It is a yearly event."

"And you don't have it all memorized already?"

Stolas glared lightly at her.

"I am a busy man."

Y/n was on the verge of asking if moping in his office, alone in the dark was a part of this alleged busyness but stopped herself. It was a good impulse, the one in her that avoided conflict. She crossed her arms.

"Fine, I'll bring it to you. When do you need it by?"

"Tomorrow." as if struck by a sudden inspiration, Stolas' eyes lit up, "Why don't you all come with?"

"You mean IMP?"

"Yes! It could be a wonderful time. The festival is always so quaint and joyful, I think you would like it."

"Millie would probably be happy at that." Y/n mused, a finger to her chin in thought, "And Mox. They're from Wrath after all but... I can't travel between rings, Stolas, and our deal means you stay away from Blitzo."

Stolas shook his head, laughing slightly.

"That first issue is easy enough to fix."

"Is it?" Y/n looked up at him, her brow furrowed.

It was times like this he wished his life had panned out differently. Stolas saw a friend in the demon, a companion. Instead, she was essentially his slave. Stolas had never been good at people and Y/n was no different. The line between them was wobbly at best under his command.

"I am a Goetia." he reminded her, "There is not a lot that I can't do."

"Okay then, I just never... never thought the scope of your power would include something like that. I thought it all had to do with the human realm."

"And you are a human soul."

"I guess that makes sense." Y/n shrugged after a moment's thought, "But that still leaves Blitzo."

"I wont bother him, you have my word."

Y/n could see the flash of strife beneath his cool complexion as Stolas raised a hand in oath. He was obsessed with physical representations of the immaterial, Y/n knew. It was nearly charming.

"Fine."

"Fantastic, it really will be a wonderful time. Why don't you bring that old friend of yours along too!"

----

TAGS:

@luzzbuzz @fudosl @mfnqueen1

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the-swift-escape · 6 months

Text

A Fine Team

Part 1 of (N/A)

Summary: The reader and Loki are sent on a mission at an art gallery, their objective is to pose as husband and wife to gain entry into a hydra auction. The reader has been falling for their friend for some time now and doesn’t think that he could ever feel the same.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Author’s Note: I’m thinking of making this a multi-part fanfic, not sure how long but I have a few ideas for the plot. I’ve never written any fan fictions like this before and I’m mostly trying to get back into the groove of writing again.

Word Count: 3,422

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The art gallery is filled with a warm glow of light. The walls are paneled with a dark wood and the floor is a shining marble that echoes with each step of heeled feet. There’s low classical music playing but no one is dancing. The guests are either too occupied by the exhibition or conversation with their peers. If you didn’t know better you wouldn’t even suspect anything abnormal about this event. Just a bunch of old money socialites viewing art they’re hoping to bid for in the auction later tonight.

Unfortunately for you, this is a mission, not a social event. Loki is not your date, holding you close against him as you view a landscape piece. He’s not whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He’s observing the people around you, and he’s playing a part. He is your mission partner, not a lovesick newlywed. He is your friend, nothing more. When you think about the press of his hand against your lower back and his lips close to your ear, your heart clenches. It feels like the most exhilarating torture for him to be so close yet so far. He has no idea how hard it is to suppress the blush rising to your cheeks and you want to keep it that way so instead you watch an older man in a dark red suit jacket look at his watch.

“There he is, it’s almost time for the auction. Don’t lose sights,” you whisper, pulling your lips into a smile as you turn toward Loki.

“He couldn’t be more obvious if he tried,” Loki says while pushing a strand of hair behind your ear and your breath hitches and you pray he doesn’t notice.

“You guys are disgusting, I can’t believe I have to watch this,” Tony’s voice comes through your ear pieces.

Loki rolls his eyes, scoffing, “Would you rather me hold a knife to her throat, Stark? Would that be more in character?”

“For you? Absolutely,” Tony says pointedly.

You clear your throat.

“If you two are done having your dick measuring contest, the target’s moving,” You whisper harshly.

The man in the red suit goes to the back of the gallery and flashes his watch to a young bouncer. He looks at him with an over polite smile. He’s nervous, this must be the new kid that Hydra set to work this event. Fury was right, they didn’t see the avengers as a threat. To be fair, the intel was fresh and the event was just arranged a few days ago. They just hadn’t checked the museum staff for any spies yet.

Nat looks at you subtly from the bar as she abandons her spot behind the counter and heads toward the back room. Her hair is dyed a dark black and is swept into a braid. She has a completely different face, courtesy of stark industries, but she moves with the same practiced ease of Natasha. She touches the bouncer’s arm and lean towards him. His eyes go wide and he hastily steps aside and follows her past the velvet rope. When they turn the corner you hear a door close through her mic and then you hear a few grunts and you swear you hear a sharp cracking sound.

“You’re all good, auction is about to start,” Nat says her tone calm.

“You’re brillant, Nat,” You shake your head in awe and hold onto Loki’s arm.

His suit is a dark green. The material cool to touch and fitting across his arms. His dark hair is swept back into an elegant loose bun. His face is at ease and you feel your heart stutter as his green eyes sparkle with the chandelier light overhead. You’re wearing a long gown the same color as his suit, the neckline is revealing but not too revealing to warrant any unnecessary glances. The thin straps on your shoulders are beaded with gold and the details on your bodice are dripped in gold, to match his cufflinks. He insisted on your outfits matching perfectly. ‘To sell the illusion’, he said.

“You look lovely, my dear wife,” He says as you pass a small group of lower hydra operatives.

“I’d hope so, I picked it out just for you. Now that we’re married it doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying to impress you,” You laugh airily as the two of you approach the now clear hallway.

You make a show of batting your eyes at the man beside you as a few of the operatives turn to look at the two of you. Loki wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close, giving you a featherlight kiss on your forehead. When you turn the corner down a darker hall you both stop and press your backs against the wall, waiting to hear footsteps. None follow and you relax against the wall and look over to see Loki looking at you with a wolfish grin.

“You play this part beautifully, darling.”

You roll your eyes at him, trying to hide the start of a smile on your lips.

“You can turn it down a notch, Loki, all these rooms are sound proof according to the blueprints we got from Fury. No one is here to hear your flirting-“

“Except for us, Reindeer Games, you’re making me sick over here,” Tony complains and you can’t help but laugh.

“Careful, Loki, y/n may have to kick your ass if you get too frisky. This is a mission after all, what would Fury say?”

Nat’s smirk is evident in her words. You wish you could stop the hope from rising in your chest when Loki doesn’t seem too interested in defending himself. But then it’s crushed just as fast and you see his smile drop and he raises one eyebrow.

“I’m not flirting, I’m staying in character. There’s a difference. I suppose that’s why I was chosen for this mission over you, Stark. I’m simply more professional.”

“Yeah that’s the reason, definitely not the fact that I’m an extremely famous billionaire, philanthropist and the owner of one of the tallest buildings in New York. Which just so happens to have my name on it. But you’re right, Rock of Ages-“

You hear a door open down the hall.

“Will you two shut up,” you hiss.

You look at your diamond encrusted watch. They must have just got done appraising the piece you’re here for. You see a supply closet out of the corner of your eye and grab Loki’s wrist and pull him silently into it, turning your ear piece on mute. The room is cramped, the space taken up by cleaning products and a rack of boxes and towels. You can’t help but press Loki against the door as you hold your hand over his mouth. Your heart is racing. It sounds like there’s about five men in the hall. Stopped right in front of the closet door. In the small glimpse of light peaking through the door from the hallway you see Loki’s eyes shut tightly, his eyebrows furrowed.

You listen in on their conversation but it’s mostly small talk. All they say that rouses any suspicion is that they’re meeting at a hotel a few months from now. As their steps echo down the hall they say their goodbyes. Hail Hydra.

You let your head fall against Loki’s chest and take your hand from his mouth. He reaches up to his ear as he breathes heavily.

“Darling, if you wanted to get me alone, I could’ve arranged that much earlier.”

His voice is as smooth as silk, if a little breathless. You try to chuckle but you feel like floating. Your skin pricks as you look up and realize how close the two of you are.

“If I wanted you alone, Laufeyson, it would have already happened,” You counter, trying to slip into your usual banter.

It’s harder when it’s like this. When it’s so close to the truth but it just isn’t. You want him, but you know there’s no way he’d have you.

Loki opens his mouth to reply, smirking, but he stops short. You’re close enough to hear the muffled noise from his ear piece and Loki clears his throat when you pull away to turn the volume up. You nod at him and he opens the door to the closet.

“Hello? Am I just talking to myself here?”

“No, Tony, sorry. Had to focus, heading to the auction room now,” You respond.

Loki offers his arm and you take it, avoiding his eyes in hopes of just appearing focused. The two of you reach the auction room and slip in unnoticed. You find the place marker with your aliases and your paddle number and take your seat in the back.

The auctioneer hasn’t gotten to your item yet but you pretend to be interested and whisper to each other when it’s time for Loki to put his paddle up. You bid low enough to lose but high enough to where you drive the price up on some of the smaller items. An hour or so passes with you and Loki waiting to see the painting you came here for. Every time he raised the paddle he’d steal a glance at you, pleased with how frustrated some of the older attendees sounded when they had to place a higher bid.

You couldn’t help but marvel at how far he’s come since the battle of New York. You were one of the only people that was able to connect the fact that Loki’s eyes were the same color as Clint’s when he was being mind controlled. Before Loki ever joined you’d brought it up multiple times but no one ever really took it seriously. After he arrived at the tower, and he opened up more, in his own ways he confirmed that your theory was correct. He hasn’t told anyone what happened that lead him to that point, though. Luckily, he’s adjusted pretty well and if some of the avengers still don’t like them- they have a begrudging respect for him. Loki and Bucky bonded and formed an interesting friendship, with what Loki has told you it seems that they’ve helped each other readjust to freedom in a way. Wanda has also helped Loki open up more, they tend to spend some time every few weeks training with their magic. Clint still keeps his distance but that’s not a scar that’s going to heal quickly, you don’t think.

Loki tears you from your thoughts, tapping the inside of your right wrist. He’s staring straight at the painting you’re here for. It’s a 1940s battlefield landscape. But you’re not here because of the art itself, you’re here for what’s sewn into the canvas. You know that Tony is listening in as the auctioneer announces the piece.

“Showtime, newly weds,” Tony comments.

According to Fury’s intel there’s a note with coordinates to a hidden hydra base that has been thought to be inactive since just after the war. There’s been whispers of a resurgence of the winter soldier program in a top secret location. This might be the key to finding the headquarters.

Loki waits for a few people to bid before placing his first one in. If you can get your hands on this painting it could completely destroy the last of the winter soldier program, if you don’t win then this mission will be a hell of a lot more difficult. He puts his paddle up again and rests his hand on your thigh, his fingers dipping just inside of the dress’ side slit. He keeps his face straight and you assume someone’s looking but you can’t take your eyes off his hand. Your breath is shallow but you try to focus, giving his hand a pat when you think he should bid.

The general protocol is that the highest bidders are given directions to a safe house where they can make the exchange. Hydra transports the item there in heavily guarded vehicles. Which the team will be tracking via the Quinjet. You feel your knives strapped to your thigh, all night you’ve been itching for a fight. Maybe it’s the pent up frustration from your ruse or just the fact that you’ve been surrounded by hydra agents all night. It feels like torture to blend in with them but it’s honestly not even close to being one of the most difficult missions you’ve gone on. It’s tame in comparison to most, little combat and little interaction with the enemy. The hardest part is keeping your heart in check when Loki’s touching you like that. You’re starting to realize how incredibly distracting it can be.

“Sold to number twenty-five!”

The auctioneer announces the winner and you realize it’s not you.

“Shit.”

“What’s up, (y/n)? Did you get it or not?” Tony pries.

“They cut the bidding short. Two men came in and delivered a note to the auctioneer,” Loki explains.

You didn’t even notice. How did that happen?

“It must’ve been rigged, get out of there, we’ll see you at the jet.”

You slip your hand into Loki’s, the cold of his fake wedding band nipping at your skin.

“Let’s go, honey. I have a little surprise for you back at home,” You tease seductively.

His green eyes cut to yours, you swear that for a moment there’s a flash of something there. You just can’t quite put a name to it. Loki’s tongue brushes over his lower lip, bringing your hand up. He leaves a lingering kiss on your matching ring. The look in his eye paired with the graze of his mouth on your skin sends a strike of electricity through your veins. He gets up, leading you to the door.

“Shall we?” He makes a show of letting you exit first after you exchange the customary hail hydras with the organizer and his bodyguards.

When you get into the hall the two of you pick up your pace.

“Now, what?” You hiss at Loki.

He grins mischievously.

“Now, darling, we have some fun.”

You can tell he’s thinking what you’ve been feeling, this has been too easy. Now, at least, it’s getting interesting. You really wish you had a body suit under this dress but maybe if you’re lucky you’ll be able to make it to the jet before you have to do any real damage. You get instruction from Tony to take a few turns down the hall to a back exit that leads to an alley closer to the meeting point.

The night air is breezy and goosebumps form on your arms. The stars are bright and the moon is little more than a sliver. Your heels echo softly on the pavement as you walk. Loki is close enough to where your hands brush once in a while as you walk. Each time it happens you feel yourself being pulled further into his orbit. There’s something magnetic about Loki, and most might say it’s because he’s a god or because he’s like a predator. Coaxing his prey into a false security, but you don’t see him that way. You see a man, a god, that has been through awful things. Like anyone else, he has struggled. He is hard to crack but when you’re able to see what’s underneath the calculating front he puts up, he’s not that different from the rest of the team.

“You did good in there, Laufeyson, I think you’re getting the hang of this whole avenger thing,” you bump his shoulder with yours, “who knows, maybe you’ve found your glorious purpose.”

He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck.

“I don’t think that the other avengers share that sentiment.”

Your chest pangs, because it’s true.

Then his face hardens, glancing back the way you came. You hear some low voices cutting through the night and before you can react, Loki is grabbing you by the waist. He’s spinning you around and the world is tilting on its axis. You close your eyes thinking something bad is about to happen.

Your back hits the wall and one of his hands is on your waist, the other supporting your head, guiding it to back gently. When you open your eyes he’s looking at you and he silently shushes you. Loki leans in close to you and his nose is brushing yours and his gaze drops to your lips. Your heart is pounding in your chest and your skin is tingling. He’s so close and his breath smells like whiskey. His cologne is coating the air between you and it smells like the forest and it’s warm and welcoming and it’s so hard to pretend like you’re not in love with him when he’s so close.

“You look truly divine,” He breathes.

“You don’t mean that,” You whisper back, shaking your head.

The footsteps are getting closer and closer and you screw your eyes shut. You have no idea what to do now that you’ve lost contact with the others and you can’t think straight. Loki always leaves your mind cloudy and usually it doesn’t effect your mission but you’ve never been in such a compromising position. He’s intoxicating and it takes all your willpower not to lean into him further. Not to press your lips to his or wrap your arms around his neck.

“Yes,” he leans a fraction closer, “I do.”

Then he’s pressing you further into the bricks and his fingers are brushing against your cheekbone. You open your eyes and he looks at you and his pupils are blown wide. Then he kisses you and it’s so soft. He’s kissing you like you’re going to disappear, like you’re made of glass. It’s fragile and you can tell he’s braced for rejection and even though you’re terrified that this is all for the mission somehow you melt into the kiss. A low noise is pulled from him as you slide your hands through his hair, it falls from its slicked back bun and the strands are falling against your cheek. The moment is everything you’ve ever dreamed it would be and still it’s so much better.

The whole world is slipping away and you ears are buzzing and you realize you need to breathe. You pull back, leaning your head back toward the cool night air and then his lips are on your neck and you feel weightless.

“Believe me, (y/n),” he whispers against your skin, his breath cool, “I could never lie to you.”

The sound of your name makes you whimper as his lips move further and further down. The footsteps are long gone, you realize. You should go, both of you should go meet the others at the rendezvous point. But you can’t move, it’s like you’re stuck to the spot and all you can focus on is this, this mischievous god against you and how his hands are chilling your skin and setting it on fire all at once. The way his tie has come slightly loose and how his cheeks are reddened. He’s disheveled and you never thought it would be for you, because of you.

“Loki-“ You choke out.

“(Y/n), come in. Can you hear us? Where are you, agent?” Steve’s voice breaks through the static in your ear piece.

Loki pulls back abruptly, the voice of your captain breaking through the moment. His eyes are wide as he looks at you and your heart sinks. He regrets it. You just lost your best friend. You sober up quickly and slip from Loki’s grasp and maneuver around him, looking down the alleyway.

“I hear you, Cap. We’re not too far from the museum, had to take a detour. On our way now.”

“We got eyes on the truck, good work you two, you make a fine team.”

You look at Loki for a second. You can’t read his expression as he straightens his tie and fixes his hair. He wipes his lips, erasing all the evidence of what happened just like that. As if it never happened, couldn’t happen. Not with you, at least. You sigh.

“Yeah, I guess we do.”

In silence you head to the rendezvous point. The tension thick between you. Maybe all he’ll ever be is your partner. Maybe you were naive to think that it could seriously be more. It was just the heat of the moment and it should have never gotten that far. Maybe you could learn to live with that.

#Loki #loki x reader #loki reader insert #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #the avengers #fake dating #friends to lovers #fluff #pining #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #avenger loki #loki fanfic #light angst #insecurity #multi part fic

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pedroshotwifey · 6 months

Text

Favorite Bounty Masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin x afab!bounty!reader

Series summary: All it takes is a beskar-covered bounty hunter and his little green child to transform your life completely. Settling into life on the Razor Crest is easy enough, but what happens once the tension between you and the Mandalorian gets to be too much? Will you be able to handle the conflict that keeps getting thrown your way?

Series tags/warnings: smut, fluff, angst, miscommunication, threats of rape (not from our boy Mando), canon-typical violence, slow burn, rough sex, breeding kink, oral sex, mutual masturbation, idiots in love, pov alternating (like one chapter), stuff im forgetting

A/N: Hey, y'all! Please keep in mind that this was one of my first fics, so please be gentle with me. Some of this writing/grammar may not be the best, but the later chapters should get better. Thank you, babes! <3

Chapter 1 (8.3k)

Chapter 2 (6.7k)

Chapter 3 (9k)

Chapter 4 (7.1k)

Chapter 5 (7.3k)

Chapter 6 (6k)

Chapter 7

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cyberkitty1 · 26 days

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𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒

Eren Yaeger x black!fem!reader

The love story of your relationship with Eren. Including your high’s and low’s, the beginning, the middle and maybe even the end.

you sped walked to your next class, with your tote on your shoulder. it was confusing being in a place so big and unfamiliar. you stood in front of the door talking a deep deep breath before exhaling and pushing said door open.

all eyes landed on you as you looked for a seat seeing one right next to the windows going from floor to ceiling.

you sat silently gracing your laptop ready to take notes listening intently when the guy sitting to your right caught your eye, his tattoos especially. spanning from his hands to his neck. you couldn’t help but stare until he tilted his head towards you, startling you.

you cough as you switch your attention back to the lesson.

as it came to a close you started packing your bag. “hey” you heard a deep, raspy voice say. confused you turn and look in his direction. you look around for a second before muttering a simple “hello” “you new? i dont recognize your face” he says simply “ yea todays my first day actually” you scratch your neck.

“makes sense, im Eren Yeager nice to meet you.”

——

it was already winning so idc, prt 2 is already being made 😛

banner from @fawndollie !

NEW TAGLIST

#eren x black fem!reader #eren x you #eren x reader #eren aot #eren yeager #eren jeager x reader #eren jaeger #eren #college au #collage #au #aot au #student #˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆 #cyberkitty1 #series #multi part fic #part 1

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creative-caramel-coffee · 9 months

Text

The Bear || Chapter 1

Pairings: Wanda x R || avengers (platonic) x R

Word count: 3.3K

TW: alcohol, underaged drinking (mentioned)

Summary: You join your uncle tony in the avengers, it wasn’t your original plan but you never planned for your powers either so here you are. Now your at the avengers tower and falling for the girl of your dreams. With a haunting past and interesting abilities can you navigate your way through the challenges of being a hero? After a mission gone wrong and a cruel twist of fate the team starts digging for answers. Can tony keep them from finding out the truth?

A/n Whats this a series??? Insane right??? Also this is my longest posted fic yet :)

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7

“Uncle Tony do we have to do this? I mean I’m not even that special.” You grumbled from the backseat.

“Yeah sure L/n because everyone can shapeshift and teleport”

“Yeah but that doesn’t mean I can fight.” You shot back

“You can turn into a literal bear if you want of we both know you can fight. With the right training.” He rolled his eyes.

“Are you sure. I mean I can take myself back right now.”

“No we’re five minutes away now just sit tight and look out the window or something.”

“Whatever” you grumbled pulling out your phone and mindlessly scrolling through instagram. After what felt more like five seconds happy pulled up and stopped the car opening the door for tony as you opened your own door and got out muttering something about being too rich for door handles. You stretched and popped your back making tony wince at the sound he hated.

“Let’s go glow stick enough trying to light up by breaking your back. I’ll take you to your room before I have you meet the team.” You dragged your feet as you followed him into the foyer of the avengers tower and watched as he pressed the button for the right floor.

“You Wanda and Natasha will be sharing a floor.”

“That’s the black widow and scarlet witch right?” You asked not being one to follow the news much.

“Yep. The redheads.” He winked knowing you were gay. You hid a blush and shoved him.

“Shut up uncle tones” you grinned. The lift pinged and tony began walking you down the hall. “This rooms Natasha this one’s Wanda’s” he said gesturing loosely at the closed doors. “And this one’s yours. I trust you can-“

“Get my own bags? sure pops.” You winked and with a small pop you vanished. Tony groaned hating when you did that.

He slumped slightly in the hall. “Jarvis please keep me updated on her position in the tower and alert me if she goes anywhere near the lab.” He grumbled. Nat’s door opened and she poked her head out frowning at tony.

“Tony what are you doing? Who are you talking to?”

“I was- never-mind I’ll explain at the meeting.” He said waving a hand and going back to the lift. Nat shrugged retreating back into her room.

With a pop you arrived back at the car and opened the boot pulling out your backpack and two suitcases before holding them all and teleporting you and your things back to your new room.

With a sigh you began unpacking knowing no matter how much you may avoid to you had to go back across the country to get the rest of your things. You stood, taking a deep breath and preparing for the long jump before disappearing with a pop.

Your head spun as you reappeared in your bedroom back home, hundred of miles away from the tower. You stumbled grabbing your box of art supplies you didn’t want to risk damaging on the long car trip. Sucking in another deep breath you teleported back. The dizziness was much worse now. Two big jumps without rest in close succession wasn’t good for you. Before you could fall over you set down the box on the floor and passed out onto the bed with a loud crash.

A few moments later Natasha entered the room looking at your unconscious form and bags around the room and frowning.

“What the hell” she muttered “Jarvis?”

“Yes Ms Romanoff.”

“Who is this?”

” Ms Y/n l/n is the niece of Tony stark.”

“Alright and what is she doing here?”

“Ms l/n’s uses to the avengers will be great thanks to her-“

“alright Jarvis that’s enough” tony said walking in the door after receiving an alert that his niece had passed out.

“Yes yes she’s my niece.”

“Tony she can’t-“

“Can’t be here. Sure she can, she’s here isn’t she? Pass me that backpack Romanoff”

He said gesturing to your small backpack by the desk. Natasha frowned and picked it up shoving it into Tony’s chest.

“Less attitude Romanoff” he grumbled.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “What did Jarvis mean she has great value to the avengers?”

“Ask her yourself” he said pulling a small vile and a pack of gum from the front pocket. He broke the vial open and waved it under your nose. Your eyes screwed shut.

“Tony what the hell is going on?” Nat asked

You screwed up your face. “Tony” you whined “why couldn’t you let me sleep it off like normal” you whined eyes still shut.

“Sleep what off tony? what’s going on?” nat asked again.

Tony pulled a strip of gum from the pack and unwrapped it shoving it in your mouth.

“Chew. And I woke you up because you can’t meet the team if you’re unconscious idiot” he grumbled.

“Whatever. And those are for emergencies only.”

“Whatever i live with you now I’ll just make you more. Or make Bruce make you more.” He grumbled.

You cracked an eye open finally noticing nat who was stood watching unamused.

“Oh hi.” You said

“Hi?” Nat said sounding unsure.

“I’ll leave you two to it then.” Tony said winking at you and leaving before you could protest.

“Let’s try that again shall we?” You said standing up and brushing invisible dust from your clothes and extending a hand. “Pleasure to meet you, I’m Y/n, Y/n L/n” you said. Nat took your hand raising an eyebrow at your last name being different to Stark’s.

“Natasha but you can call me Nat.” She said her grip was firm and you could feel the callus’s of long days spent training on her palms.

“Well not the best first impression.” You chuckled putting the vile and pack of gum back into your backpack.

“What is that stuff?” Nat said raising a brow.

“Oh uncle tony makes it. Its energy gum a special type he made for me so i can recharge the battery after long jumps.” You said and Nat had about a thousand more questions.

“Long jumps?” She asked.

“Oh he didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“This.” You said disappearing with a pop and appearing behind her tapping her shoulder. Nat spun around.

“Super speed?” She asked.

“Nope.” You said popping the p. “Teleportation. And..” nat blinked and suddenly a bunny was sat by her feet.

“Shapeshifitng?” She said sounding impressed. With a pop you stood before her again.

“Yep” you smiled.

“Alright ill admit that’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah. Well I’m sure you have important things to do before the meeting this afternoon. Tony wants to introduce me to the team and i need to unpack.” You said wiping your hands on your paint stained jeans one of your nervous habits.

“Yeah. Well I’ll see you around L/n” she smiled and patted your shoulder before leaving and closing the door softly.

The day went quickly as you unpacked. The meeting was smooth with the team impressed and curious about your powers. You must have answered a hundred questions before tony stepped in. You shifted to about six different animals and teleported to get them all ice-cream from downtown as proof and just like that they all loved you. Apparently ice cream was a weak point for the group of earths mightiest hero’s. After the meeting was over you couldn’t help the fact your eyes lingered after the goddess you had come to know as Wanda. She was just so perfect. Her hips swished slightly as she walked away and you had to stop yourself from drooling. A crush was forming just like that. But you knew you had to pace yourself. You had plenty of people end things with you for being “too much” and you didn’t want another heartbreak.

As you walked back to your room you smiled to yourself. You grabbed your backpack and sketchbook and walked down to the grounds. Picking a tree and sitting under it. You opened your back and buried your nose in your sketchbook. So for the next few hours you sat trying to capture every last detail your brain could remember about Wanda’s face. After a few hours you had a beautiful drawing of the redhead and you smiled shutting. Putting on the finishing details you were so wrapped up in it you didn’t hear the footsteps approach until the person spoke to you.

“I was wondering where you had run off to.” Nat said sitting beside you. You quickly slammed the book shut but not before nat saw the picture. She grinned and raised a brow.

“Your an amazing artist.” She said and you flushed.

“Please don’t tell anyone.” You said.

“What that your a good artist?” She said grinning coyly

“No. About the drawing. You weren’t suppose to see that.” You said still bright red you slipped the sketchbook back into your backpack.

“My lips are sealed.” She said. “But before i say anything else. She single.” Nat winked before getting up and turning to leave.

“Nat?” You said and she turned around again.

“Yes?”

“Did you come to tell me something or just tease me?”

“Oh lunch is ready Wanda made a bit of a fancy meal for your arrival. Something tells me she likes you.” Nat winked and started to walk off. You hid your face in your hands. Grabbing your backpack before teleporting back to your room and dropping your bag on the bed before teleporting to the hall by the kitchen and strolling in.

“Something smells good.” You said and Wanda looked up and smiled.

“I just sent nat to get you.” She smiled. And you grinned as Nat walked in.

“Looks who’s here.” Wanda said pointing the spatula at you and smiling. Nat frowned at your cheeky grin.

“Must be a sixth sense” you said and winked at nat.

“Or you just teleported.” Tony said walking in and Wanda burst out laughing.

“Your no fun tones.” You fake glared at him.

“Bite me bear.” He said. Using your playful nickname for you. He loved bears and you often turned into one for him when he was drunk and sad so it became a name for you. Of course nobody would ever know that the great tony stark was cheered up by riding a big fluffy brown bear around his backyard in his late twenties. He couldn’t count the number of times he fell asleep running his hands through the fur of a sleeping bear cub in his lap. You brought him a comfort only family did. One he had failed to receive for years after his parent, your grandparents died. One you had also lost when your mother and father died also.

Wandas calls for lunch broke you from your thoughts as the boys all tumbled into the kitchen. You were introduce to the two girls you hadn’t seen before. Just getting back from their mission you learnt the blonde was Yelena, Natasha’s sister and Kate was Clint’s protege. You sat down feeling that maybe your family had grown a bit bigger. And maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Just a reminder your party is tonight to welcome you to the avengers.” Tony said slapping your back as he walked past to get his morning coffee.

“I heard the great tony Stark’s parties aren’t the same as they used to be. Hope I’m not disappointed.” You grinned taking another swig of your coffee.

Tony grumbled something about being domestic and you chuckled before going to your room to get ready for training.

It was about five when you finally decided on an outfit. The party starts at 7 so you had plenty of time. You had decided on a small sleek black dress that hugged all the right places. Sure you would have preferred a suit but you didn’t feel much like making a stir at your first party. After laying out the outfit you yawned not used to being awake so early in the mornings. Deciding you could take a quick nap you curled up and shut your eyes.

Incessant knocking woke you up with a start.

“Y/N the party started twenty minutes ago get your butt downstairs. Come on your making me look bad” Tony yelled with an almost whine in his voice and you jumped up. Fixing your hair into a fancy up-do and throwing on the dress and some makeup.

As you stepped into the room you realised it was one of Tony’s more calm parties. The avengers were sat around a table drinking and you grabbed yourself a martini before going to sit beside Natasha.

“Your going soft tones.” You grinned and he shot you a glare.

“Am not.”

“Its alright i kinda like domestic you.” You took a long swig from your drink feeling the alcohol go straight to your head.

“So y/n why do you call tony tones?” Wanda asked and you grinned lopsidedly as tony groaned knowing what was to come.

“Well witchy.” You grinned as you watched Wanda fight down a blush. “When my parents so kindly died.” Maybe the alcohol was doing a bit more than you thought. You missed the look of shock on the avengers faces as you continued. “Mr stark here.” You gestured loosely to him “adopted me. I was about sixteen and tones being the fun uncle let me go to his parties. When i was seventeen we were all hanging out, me and Tony’s street scum friends were drinking.”

“You let her drink at 17!!” Nat yelled and you shrugged.

“No point being rich if you don’t break a few laws I guess.” You grinned as tony covered his face with his fingers. “Tonys parties were a lot more wild back then and we had a little family legend me and the street scum.” You said affectionately. “They were my family. Anyways the legend was that if you got tony drunk enough his tone deafness goes away and his awful catawalling turns into the most angelic singing ever. So one night we tested it out and secured some strong liquor. I wont say if it was true or not but tony woke up in Mississippi with a hangover and no clothes.” You grinned and the avengers all started laughing.

“And where did you wake up y/n?” Nat said narrowing her eyes jokingly.

you blushed “w-well thats not important.” Tony seeing his chance to get back at you took it with a grin. “She woke up in Massachusetts with a hangover and a piercing.” You groaned.

“Where?” Wanda asked her curiosity peaking.

“Right here.” You said tapping the helix piercing you always loved but never had the confidence to get without the help of alcohol. “And before tony can convince you otherwise i alway wanted one so its not like i woke up with a piercing elsewhere.” You said pointing tony a sharp look. Tony choked on his drink. “Alright” tony said clapping his hands “change of subject.” And you burst out laughing knowing his piercing was rather … intimate.

“Oh i have plenty more stories of party animal tones over there.” You said tilting your drink in his direction “but I’m not nearly drunk enough yet for that.” You grinned taking a long sip.

“And you wont be tonight.” Nat said taking your drink from you carefully and setting it on the table “this isn’t that kind of party.” She smiled seeing you frown.

“Boring.” You yawned and slumped down the couch.

“So how did you get your powers if you don’t mind me asking?” Clint said eyeing your reaction closely.

“Oh you know, the usual.” You waved your hand dismissively dodging the question and changing topics. Nat and Clint exchanged looks not missing the way your shoulders hand tensed at the topic. Tony shot Clint a dark look telling him to drop it.

The night went well as you and the avengers chatted and shared stories. Nat was careful not to let you drink too much to keep you from embarrassing yourself on your first night. Taking it off you ever twenty minutes for a break. You let her for the most part. After about three hours the team was getting tired and you were mildly drunk despite Nat’s best efforts.

“Come on hot stuff i think its time i take you to bed.” Nat said playfully and your eyes widened. “Not like that.” She scoffed slapping your arm lightly.

“Goodnight everyone I’m taking this one to bed now.” Nat said jabbing a thumb at you and helping you to your feet as you swayed. Nat grumbled not ready for you to get a head injury walking back to your room she scooped you up with little effort. You squeaked slightly and threw you arms around her neck as she carried you bridal style into the elevator. Nat helped you back to your room handing you some of you pyjamas she found in a drawer she smiled at the matching snoopy pj shirt and fluffy pants. Handing them to you she turned her back as you changed. After the shuffling stopped she asked if you were done turning to find your shirt on backwards and a dopy grin on your face. Nat sighed. Turning your T-shirt around by guiding your arms back inside before helping you into bed. You looked adorable in your pjs and she helped take out your hair pins and used a wipe to clean off your makeup. After you were ready she placed a motherly kiss on your forehead and tucked you in. She sat with you until your soft snores filled the room and before she slipped out she put a bottle of pain meds and a glass of water on your bedside. She padded quietly down the hall to her room and slipped out of her fancy clothes changing quickly before getting into her own bed.

You were a puzzle, one she was determined to figure out. When she had heard you had lost your parents she felt almost a primal protection spark in her heart for you. It was almost maternal in nature as despite being almost 22 nat wanted nothing more than to mother you like a child. And it scared her. Yet she couldn’t seem to resist the urge to care for you. She thought you were sweet and she wanted to protect you.

Wanda however had different feelings. Since she had first laid eyes on you she was wrapped around your finger. You were perfect in her eyes. And the night of the party she was awake until the early hours thinking of every moment in great depth all over from the way the dress held you tight in all the right places to the way your grin became lopsided when you drank. All down to how nat had left with you in her arms and a feeling of jealousy sparked in her heart. She knew she had nothing to worry about. Nat was like a mother to all the younger avengers. Peter, Yelena and Kate were basically babied by her all the time. And she saw the love in her eyes for you the moment she met you. She knew you held a special place in Nat’s heart already but she couldn’t help but feel it should have been her who helped you to bed and cared for you. But she didn’t want to scare you away. She couldn’t live with herself if she blew her chance before it really even began.

MASTERLIST

200 notes · View notes

firerose18991 · 5 months

Text

Prince! Yuji Itadori x Black fem reader

A/N: Written in the dead of night while watching early 2000’s era fantasy movies(ella enchanted, twitches, shrek lol 0

Fluff, adventure, JJK AU, multipart fic

Written with black curvy/chubby readers in mind but all can enjoy

Honestly this is too cute to be on my page of filth but here we are🤷🏿

Wrd cnt: 2k

Prt 2

Prince Yuji rode across the battlefield on his jet black steed sukuna. His clan had been dominating the war waged by a neighboring kingdom, in a fierce effort to maintain their country’s border. He had been eager to strike up negotiations with them regarding the land dispute but when they had attacked he had no choice but to fight against them.

“Soldiers, we fight to subdue our neighbors, not kill them, remember this! Today will be the last ride!” Yuji shouted over the hoards of men lined in front of him.

He wanted to settle the matter quickly by breaking the spirit of his enemies, not their bodies. But the enemy was relentless even with their lesser numbers. The charge commenced and he flanked one side of the enemies while the commander Kugisaki led the other to surround them and push them out. But the battle was a fierce one. As Yuji charged he displayed incredible feats on the battlefield. They hadn’t been as successful as they had hoped to be but the enemy called a short retreat and fell further back, almost to the border. He turned back to his men looking over the gained land and beaming with pride.

And as he took in the sight his vision faded. His grip was lost on Sukuna and he fell to the ground.

He woke up to the muffled voice around his body.

“He sustained many lacerations, not to mention falling from that tall steed of his. His head is in bad shape.” He opened his eyes to a woman waving an enchanted hand over his body.

She spoke to an empty room (apart from himself), he couldn’t speak to respond to her. The waves of pain from exertion swept over his body as he gained consciousness.

A loud voice from outside the door caught his attention.

“Let me through!” they shouted.

Yuji could never forget the shout of his comrade, Nobara burst through the wooden door.

“Commander I’m sorry but you can’t burst in here.” Another younger nurse cut her off before she could stomp deeper into the room.

“Get out of my way! This is the prince of the kingdom, he's not going to be treated in some scruffy war shack!” She berated the nurse and attempted to push her aside.

“He cannot be moved.” She fought to keep her spot in front of the commander. Impressive considering the commander's strength. “He needs to rest and heal first.” She insisted.

“You will obey my orders as commander of the kingdom.” Nobara barked.

“We are not of your kingdom, we travel treating those stupid enough to start a war!” The nurse yelled back. “Get out, you're disturbing my patients.” The commander relented and the young nurse pushed her out of the room.

“Ahem, my apologies my lady. You requested me?” The young nurse turned to the woman at Yuji’s bedside.

“Hello (Y/N)” She smiled. “Thankyou for dealing with our company. Though maybe next time a bit more tact would be in order.” She rose from her place at Yuji’s bedside.

“This young man is a special task. One I am entrusting to my finest student, see to it he is fully healed and on his way back to his kingdom. So his dreadful guards will leave my encampment.” She sighed and exited the room

“Yes ma’am” You spoke as the door closed behind the head nurse.

After a pause you slowly turned toward the patient in question. His torso was black and blue and his head was already bandaged up. You moved closer to examine and finally noticed the open eyes slightly obscured by the bandaging.

“Oh my.” you gasped and hopped back a bit from the bed. “um I’m sorry I wasn’t aware you were awake. You must be in a lot of pain, this should help.” You pulled a balm from your robe pocket and a spatula to apply to the swollen bumps of skin.

Your touch was like a whisper to the skin and Yuji hardly noticed the application but felt the relief of his muscles as the balm took effect.

“Thank..You.” he struggled out, finally being able to communicate without suffering.

“Don’t speak just yet.” You said softly.

You ran the balm along his neck next to allow him to rest comfortably for the day.

“Now all you need is some rest.” Your words fell on deaf ears as he had already passed out,having exhausted himself.

The next day Yuji had woken up to you buzzing around his room moving around soiled bandaging from his bedside.

“He-Hello.” He stuttered abit taking due to his dehydration.

“Hello.” You turned around with a bright smile.

The sun flooded the room around you, bouncing off your brown skin like a blanket of light. Had he seen it yesterday he wouldve mistaken you for a angel. He stared for a bit, forgetting his pain and absentmindedly moving to leave the bed.

“Oh no please...Don’t move yet. You must take the time to heal.” You rushed over and moved his arm back into bed. Taking into account how defined his muscles were.

“Heh, can I trouble you for some water.” He smiled slightly then wincing at the pain.

“Yes, of course.” You swayed out of the room and returned with a pitcher.

You sat on the side of his bed.

“I’m going to use some more healing ointment on you before I give you the water. It’ll make it easier to drink” You said to Yuji.

Again your feather light touches graced his skin. This time his nerves were not overcome by pain and he felt the true skill through your application. You then reacched for the pitcher and held it to his mouth slowly tipping water for him to drink. You focused on making sure the water didn't spill onto his bandaged body.

“Is that enough?” you said pulling the pitcher from his lips.

“Yes.” Yuji said, the ghost of a smile could be seen on his face.

“Now bare with me, I need to make sure your airway is clear at all times.” You said

Your fingers pressed to his neck with more pressure than before earning a flinch from the prince.

“I’m sorry.” you pulled your fingers back a bit. “I’ll put less pressure.”

“No, I’m just not used to feeling this weak. I’ve never been this heavily wounded.”

“Well I heard you fought off 100 soldiers at once, all by yourself. Surely you’d expect some injury.” You jest.

“It was more like 80 men.” Yuji played off your compliments.

Your shared eye contact lingered until you reminded yourself to check his airway. His pulse was strong and breathing with no obstructions.

“I bet you’ll get back to your fight in no time.” You began to get up from the bed.

"The stupid fight?" He questioned your earlier statements.

You turned around with a shocked and embarrassed look.

"I didn't mean-uh- there is nothing trivial about your fight." You stammered over your words hoping to not have offended the prince.

"It's alright. I agree it's a stupid war." Yuji's face fell serious. "I hope to end it as fast as possible."

You continued spending your time solely focusing on the prince and in two weeks time he had made remarkable progress.

Today you swished through the encampment to deliver food to him.

"Good morn- Yuji, you can't be out of bed!” You came into the room to see the prince standing by the back curtain looking over the bustling camp.

“Well obviously I can.” He flashed the devilish teeth you'd come to love. “And it's all thanks to you.”

You braced yourself for his charm, squaring your shoulders you ventured over to him. “I'm not a miracle worker, you still need rest.”

You guided him back to his bed, not daring to look up at the light brown pools fixed atop your head. Every morning since he could speak the two of you sat together and chatted as there wasn't much for either of you to do.

The two of you had gotten to know each other well. You learned that Yuji was born outside the palace and had only learned he was in the line of succession a few years prior. As such he wasn't used to people calling him prince and insisted on his friends not using his title of prince. He was interested in your travels as your clan had provided aid to many wars across the land and you had been to many different parts of the country. You informed him of your favorite stops and places that were now at peace and free to visit if he wished to.

"What else do you enjoy?" Yuji asked you.

His hands rested on your hips as they had found a familiar home there whenever the two of you had your talks. You laid right next to him and against your wishes he would always roll over to face you while you talked.

"I love music. You don't hear it a lot when you're always near wars but sometimes if you stay long enough, till the end of the conflict, you'll hear music from celebrations."

"Do you dance?" He perked up his head excitedly only to be met by your gentle hand placing him back down on the pillow.

"Of course,whenever I can." You laughed

"Then one day we'll dance together, yes?" He looked up at you

"I'd like that." You sighed.

After a month of caring for Yuji, the time was coming for him to travel back to his kingdom. His recovery time astonished all the nurses from your clan but he always played it off saying he just got the best nurse for the job. As the time grew closer for him to leave you began to feel less happy about him returning to his home, without you. It also filled you with a bit of shame as a healer, your job was to get people home safely from battle, but here you were wishing for a few more weeks spent with Yuji.

“(Y/N)?” Yuji called out to you. You had been checking up on the status of the wounds he received. All were almost completely healed and scarred or faded.

“Hm” You hummed in response.

“You seem distracted today. Are you tired?” Yuji had a face of concern. He hoped that the constant care he required this past month hadn’t caught up to you.

“No, no. I am distracted but not tired.” You continued to place the light bandages around nim.

“What are you thinking about?” He pulled your hands from his bandages and let them pool around his torso.

“It seems the conflict between your clan and the other has calmed down a lot. We see less soldiers being hurt each day. It means we’ll be moving on soon.” You looked away from Yuji as you informed him of your inevitable departure.

You didn’t see the expression on Yuji's face as you told him the news. He wasn't sad or even overly worried but he was determined to stay with you. It felt like a battle almost, the same determination that saved his clan’s land would keep you in his life for as long as the two of you wished.

"Would you also like to move on to the next land's war?"

"Well if I'm quite honest I've had my fill of wars witnessed. But there will be people who need us" The reason you had left your clan's home lands to help in these wars was to be able to help people with the medical abilities you inherited.

"Your clan's work is truly miraculous. We haven't known a decent healer in years on this half of the continent. It's selfish of me but I would have asked you to become the royal physician." His gaze held focus on you.

"I would have to earn status before I could accept an offer like that."

"How would you do that?"

"My teacher, the head nurse…she would have to approve a promotion for me. I don't know if I've impressed her enough to get that."

"Well maybe I should steal you away" he gathered you up I'm his strong arms and pulled you to his chest.

You sighed, if you weren't so prideful you'd let him. But you had your own goal of being a healer and you couldn't abandon that, not even for your favorite patient

Next>>>

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too-much-tma-stuff · 2 months

Text

Finally Getting Help (prt 8)

Masterpost

The next day was less chaotic but not by much. They had to go through everything they’d taken from the Fenton’s lab, and reluctantly accepted Danny and Jazz’s help with the task because they were familiar with the tech. That was surprisingly needed since all of their gadgets were extremely obtuse and looked like household appliances. It was honestly surprising how good Danny was with all of this stuff, he knew what everything was, how to take it apart and how to put it back together to show the heroes how it worked.

“They don’t all work for humans. Some have to be fueled with ectoplasm so they need to be constantly refueled. Dad used to wear a backpack full of the stuff ghost busters style but that’s really not practical so this one isn’t very useful to you. I can use it though,” Danny said as he screwed the last part back on the.. Whatever it was.

“Okay, but why does it look like a blender?” Tim asked, baffled and impressed.

“Oh that’s because that’s what it was built out of,” Danny said with a crooked smile. “We repurposed a lot of household items into tech. Give me a couple toasters and a microwave and I’ll have three specter deflectors ready for you before dinner time.” He said as he pressed his hand against one of the gins and it started glowing intently green.

“Here don’t drop it,” He said tossing it to Batman, who did manage to catch it. “I fueled it with three shots, just in case Vlad shows up or another ghosts threatens you. And actually even with your charms I would feel a lot better if you all had specter deflectors since you’re all involved with me now,” He sighed and rubbed his face.

“Well… we can get you toasters and a microwave but we can also get you more advanced parts if those will work better,” Bruce told Danny, gingerly holding the odd gun away from himself. It wasn’t a traditional gun so it wasn’t upsetting but he still didn’t like it.

Danny looked very tempted but he shook his head. “No I’d better do it with what I know, I can get it done faster that way and they work. I’d love to play with some of those more advanced parts though. I’m sure I can come with some fun stuff.”

Uh oh, Bruce didn’t like that look on Tim’s face, the last thing he needed was more encouragement! But Danny was the child of mad scientists, he would get along perfectly with Tim, Bruce was going to have to keep a close eye on them to make sure they didn’t accidentally make a death ray.

“You can join me in my lab later,” Tim offered hopefully and Danny glanced up at him with a borderline feral grin.

“That sounds great, I’m sure you have much better lab safety than my parents. Love engineering, would hate to die a second time.” He said it like a joke, just the way Jason tended to. Jazz laughed, but only to encourage her brother’s coping method, no one else did.

“Alright, we’ll go to the nearest home appliance store and get you some toasters and microwaves,” Bruce said.

“Hell ya, I should have been adopted by a rich family years ago,” Danny cackled. Oh dear, he’d been so traumatized yesterday Bruce hadn’t realized he was Feral. Why did this keep happening.

He informed Alfred of Danny’s request and by the time they finished going over the more confusing inventions and left for lunch the appliances were waiting for Danny in the lab that he and Tim would apparently now be sharing. Danny immediately dove on the machinery starting to take them apart with practiced hands. He seemed calm and in his element but Tim stayed to supervise, both just in case something went wrong, and because it was His lab and they hadn’t talked about rules of cohabitation yet.

Bruce left them to it. Alfred had informed him that Jason had arrived and headed straight to the kitchen without saying hello to anyone else. It wasn’t a surprise, he was closest to Alfred, he’s want to help with making dinner, and get the basic scoop from his most trusted family member before having to face anyone else. Bruce knew better than to intrude on that, but God did he want to.

Regardless of what his children thought Bruce cared deeply for all of them, and he hated that sometimes they doubted it. He wished he was better at telling and showing them, but he’d managed to convince himself it was too late for him to change so he didn’t have to face the years of mistakes and trauma he had endured and inflicted. No matter what what image he tried to project, he was still only human.

He went to his office, but he couldn’t settle to anything, he did a little bit of this, and little bit of that, and just ended up pacing the carpeted floor. He left them alone as long as he could before he gave in and went down to the kitchen.

“Sorry to interrupt, I just needed a cup of coffee,” He said as casually as he could. The looks Alfred and Jason gave him said neither of them actually believed his excuse, which was fair. “It’s good to see you Jaylad, thanks for coming.”

“Well I’m not going to miss out on a new brother am I? You gonna have this one running around in spandex too B?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, it made Bruce wince but it Was progress because he was acknowledging their familial ties.

“I’m almost two years too late to stop him,” Bruce said regretfully. “It’s been… a lot has happened. I’m sure Alfred caught you up on most of it, but I’d like to talk to you before you meet either of the siblings.”

“Trying to make sure I won’t be a bad influence?” Jason asked and Bruce couldn’t tell if he was joking or accusing.

“No, nothing like that,” Bruce said, holding up his hands. “I just want to talk.”

Jason hummed skeptically, scrutinizing Bruce before turning back towards Alfred. “What do you think Alfie, can you spare me?”

“I always appreciate your help master Jason, but I can manage on my own,” Alfred assured, sounding amused.

“Alright, to your office then?” Jason asked, turning back towards Bruce.

“Or the sitting room, whichever would be more comfortable.”

“Office,” Jason said firmly, this was the distance that he was keeping between them. They worked together now, and Jason cared for his siblings, but he kept them all at arms length. For everyone’s safety really, if they set him off he didn’t want to hurt them, and he didn’t want to be set off either. It always felt like shit. Jason followed Bruce to the office and sprawled in the soft chair across the desk from Bruce’s. He remembered being a kid, sitting properly and nervously in this chair across from Bruce hoping desperately for his approval. How times change.

“I just wanted to talk to you about the new kids” Bruce started and Jason waved him away.

“I’m really not going to corrupt them or anything, I Probably won’t be around enough to make a difference anyway.” Jason said dismissively.

Bruce took a deep breath, controlling his expression and folding his hands on the table. “That’s not it Jaylad, Alfred must have told you that the boy died and came back?”

Jason tensed and green swirled in his vision, it was the same thing that Bruce had seen in Danny when Zatana asked about Phantom. “Ya he did.” Defensive and insecure.

“It seems like he, and his sister who was sort of a caretaker to him, know a lot more than we do about the effect that that has on a person. To help us take care of Danny she gave us a presentation about it, it… makes a lot of sense. You should probably talk to her and Danny about it really but I just wanted to apologize.

“I’ve been trying to fix this, fix… you for a long time and I know I’ve been going about it wrong and I’ve been hurting you.”

“You got a new treatment plan in mind, old man?” Jason asked, his arms crossed and Bruce wished that mistrust wasn’t earned.

“No,” Bruce sighed looking down. “Really Jason I don’t, I know I was wrong. This is something I just didn’t know I didn’t know about,” He hated his own ignorance, he hated to admit it! He was Batman! The way he kept up with other superheroes was always being prepared for everything and knowing more than everyone around him, but he hadn’t even known there was something there to know!

“This isn’t about that, and it’s not about you staying away from the new kids. Exactly the opposite actually, since they know more about this, and Danny might be one of the few people who really understands what it’s like to die and come back like that, I was hoping you’d spend more time here, around them. I think it might help you both.”

“Huh,” Jason sounded, blinking rapidly because that was the most sincere apology he’d gotten from Bruce and he didn’t quite know how to react to it. “Maybe… maybe.” He hadn’t met the new siblings yet after all, maybe they’d hate each other.

“Can I meet them now?” He asked looking back up at Bruce curiously.

“Of course, the girl's name is Jasmine Fenton, called Jazz, the boy goes by Danny. Jazz is turning 18 soon, Danny is 16.”

Right Tim had mentioned that, so Danny was about 3 years younger than him then. That shouldn’t matter too much, and maybe Tim will be right about the sister and can tease Jason about it. He’d been single for a while and wouldn’t mind changing that.

“Of course, I think you should meet Jazz first, she’s protective of Danny and she hasn’t been very involved in all of this. I think she’d feel better being allowed to… vet you first for lack of a better word. Are you okay with that?” Bruce asked Jason politely.

“Sure, I don’t really care what order I meet them in and… Look Bruce I know I’m mad at you, and I was really hard on Timmy when everything was still raw. But I’m never going to knowingly hurt a kid, or make life harder for them. If I can help them I will,” Jason said sincerely.

“Jason, the girl is less than a year younger than you. You’re a kid too,” Bruce said sadly. Jason froze for a moment, Yes he was 19, his mind wasn’t fully developed yet or whatever the hell, but he hadn’t felt like a kid since his death. Even before that, the responsibility for his mother, and then the work as a hero. Bruce wanted soldiers, Jason had never gotten a chance to be a kid really.

“Whatever,” Jason scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets and standing up, closing himself off from that sincerity. “Do you know where she is?”

“She’s in the library,” Bruce said, his lips twitching up in a smile. “She loves books almost as much as you did, though she seems to be more drawn to non-fiction.”

Jason hummed and nodded, heading towards the door since he knew his own damn way to the library, Bruce didn’t have to lead! He did follow through, he was clearly protective of these kids so of course he would want to be there when Jason met them.

When he entered the library he saw a young woman sitting at one of the tables with some sort of text book. Her back was straight and her legs tucked under the chair with her ankles crossed. It looked like she was self consciously trying to look put together. She looked up at them, blue green eyes looking him over critically, he could practically see her picking him apart in her mind and he tried not to fidget.

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Jason Todd,” He said, walking over and offering her his hand to shake. She was very pretty, but he was surprised by his own complete lack of attraction, she just didn’t register that way, she seemed more… maternal almost.

“Ah, the dead son,” She chuckled, getting up from the table and reaching out to shake his hand, her grip was strong and her hands were soft and cool. “It’s nice to meet you, they mentioned you. Nothing bad,” She added when she saw her face. “And I don’t mean to be rude, I know some people are sensitive about their deaths being mentioned. Danny jokes about it all the time so… I just wanted to let you know that I know, and I accept you.” Jazz said with a warm smile.

Her easy acceptance caught him off guard and before he could help it he was baring his teeth at her in a snarl, defensive and probing, did she mean it? She grinned sharper bearing sharp fangs at him in a matching sign of… friendly aggression, something inside him settled. He chuckled and took a step back. “Well thanks, nice to meet someone who doesn’t look like they bit a lemon every time I make a death joke.”

“It’s your death, as long as it’s healthy you can own that however comes naturally to you,” Jazz promised, sitting back down at the desk. “I’d love to talk more and get to know you, but we can do that later. You really should meet Danny.”

“You don’t want to come with us,” Bruce broke in, sounding worried. Jason had almost forgotten he was there, he hadn’t realized how… all encompassing the short interaction had been.

“I’ll probably follow,” Jazz said with a shrug, her gaze turning stern as she looked at Bruce. “Remember what I said about never breaking up a fight,” She told him firmly.

Well if that didn’t make Jason nervous he didn’t know what did. Why would he fight with Danny? Would Danny fight with him? Why? “You really think it’s a good idea for us to meet? Why would we fight?” Jason asked her sharply.

“Of course,” she agreed, her eyes softening as she looked back at him, though her expression remained a little mischievous. “It’ll be good for both of you.”

#danny phantom #dc x dp #fanfiction #dc stands for disregard cannon #bruce wayne #jason todd #jazz fenton #alfred pennyworth #eventual dead on main #finally getting help au #trans!danny #Danny is pregnant #tim drake #Danny is feral #unedited #if you find errors let me know #comments welcome #long post #multi part fic

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tadpolesonalgae · 6 months

Text

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 9

Pairing: Azriel x third-oldest-Archeron-sister!reader

A/N: Giving something new a try here, absolutely terrifying

Warnings: different povs, (Smidge of angst…I think…?)

Word Count: 5,707

-Part 8- -Part 10-

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Silver eyes cut to cocoa. “Why not?”

Elain sighs, attention flicking away to the bookcases lining the walls of their home. Nesta had been the main designer, though bits and pieces are still missing—like the fireplace that will be put into the living room while they’re away, specially designed to contain the crackle and pop of logs as they burst upon the fire. Sure, she could have chosen to have a spell wrap it all up, but she enjoys having time away from magic. That small thread leading back to her old life.

“So many reasons,” she answers quietly, scanning the titles. Fatigue laces her shoulders, hands tucking into her lap, playing with the lilac fabric. “She’s just not… She’s not interested, Nesta.” The sharp eyed female sits in silence, staring blankly into the middle distance. Nails press into the arms of the cushioned chair, spine straightening. “She needs help. You heard her argument with Feyre— Has she at least spoken to you about it?”

Elain sighs again, shaking her head, leaning back into the seat. “No. And I’m not asking.”

Nesta studies Elain from across the room, the light half-circles beneath her eyes. She knows how Eris has been visiting the trio in the lower lands—how it strains on her mate, passing onto her. Part of her doesn’t want to push Elain further, noting the distance in her normally bright eyes, but she remembers her own silence. The pressure building in her head, on the cusp of shattering. What a mess she’d been.

“You’re the only one she talks to, Elain,” she says, hands lowering to her lap. “You saw how she shut us out over dinner. If anyone can revive her, it’s going to be you.”

“I know,” she snaps abruptly, eyes cracking open. Shifts in her seat, sitting upright, brining her feet up onto the cushions, tucking up neatly. Exhales heavily. “I know,” she repeats, softer this time, “but I’ve been trying, and she just doesn’t want to do anything. Pushing her won’t work, she’ll just retreat further.”

The two sit in silence, sun streaming in through the large windows, pooling in a golden square of heat upon the carpet. Outside, the roses sway in the breeze, climbing up the sides of the paprika-red bricks.

“And what about Bas?” Nesta asks, quietly.

“What about him?” She answers, still peering up at the bookcase. How many have already been read? “She’s close with him,” Nesta says, “maybe she’s said something to him.”

“How would you have felt if Amren spoke to us?” She asks pointedly, but quietly. “I’ve wanted to ask—either of them—but that’s not the right way to do this. She already keeps her distance from you. Trying to find an in through Bas would just push her further,” Elain argues. “Plus it’s an invasion of privacy,” she murmurs, an afterthought.

“Then what do you suggest,” Nesta asks, silver eyes piercing. “That we just let things continue? She already practically estranged from us.”

“She needs time,” Elain says quietly. “Just give her space. That’s all she wants at the moment.”

“That’s all we’ve been doing, and it’s not working. She hardly even comes to dinners anymore. The last time I saw her was over a months ago—a month,” Nesta mutters softly. Brows pull together, conflict marring her sharp features. “Az says she barely leaves her room up in the House.”

“But that’s where she wants to be, Nesta.”

The silver eyed female shakes her head. “I wanted to be left alone too,” she murmurs, hands tightening. “Maybe she likes being alone up there, but it’s not good. And don’t say she can manage on her own—I know you heard her argument with Feyre.” Nesta shifts in her seat, eyes lowering to the pool of sunshine on the carpet, splitting them apart. “That’s not dealing with anything. She’s just pushing it away.”

“You don’t know that for certain,” Elain says quietly, not meeting her eyes.

“I know what I heard, and I know how I felt. It’s the same thing, she’s just quieter,” Nesta responds. “She always has been.” Elain shifts again, eyes joining Nesta’s in peering at the dazzling pool of sunlight—reflecting off the carpet, illuminating the room with a warm-orange glow.

“You’re suggesting forcing her into a place of discomfort,” Elain says at last. Inhales deeply, then blows it out, raising her fingers to her brow, rubbing lightly. “I needed time and space, too,” she says, almost a whisper. “I needed to be on my own. To have my independence returned. I needed the quiet to recover from the Cauldron.” Hands drag over her face, cool tips of her digits cover her eyes, soothing the ache at the back of her mind—not enough sleep.

Shifts again, straightening, hands returning to her lap. “While you needed someone to reach out.”

“We’ve given her time, and space,” Nesta argues. “Most of the time she has the whole House to herself. None of us bother her up there; she can come and go as she wants. And nothing’s changing.” Elain remains quiet, peering distantly at the carpet, the colour of fox’s fur. Drags her attention away. “If she won’t change, something else needs to,” Nesta says, voice softening again. “It’s not right,” she breathes, “we’re sisters. We grew up together, slept in the same bed, went through the same sufferings. We shouldn’t fall apart now.” Her voice is heavy, tired and worried. Not how she wants to be the day of her departure.

“Why not now?” Elain asks quietly. Silver raises to cocoa, brow raised in question. “I think now makes sense,” she says softly. “There’s no longer a reason for us to stay together.”

“What are you talking about? We’re family, that’s reason enough,” Nesta mutters. Elain shakes her head. “Think about it,” she insists. “Growing up there was nowhere else to go. There was no choice—we’d do what had to be done to live. You were going to marry Tomas, I would marry Graysen, and Feyre would continue looking after father,” she says heavily. “Then Feyre was taken, and eventually so were we. Then came the Cauldron. Then the war hit. Then Briallyn messed things up.”

Elain sighs heavily, closing her eyes for a moment. “We were finally in a spot of peace, and now there’s” —she gestures to Nesta in her state of departure— “this to deal with.” The silver eyed female stiffens, hands shifting in her lap. “For her, there’s no reason to stick together anymore. It’s over, it’s behind us. We don’t need to keep it together.” She swallows, eyes locking with her sister’s, “she’s free to let go.”

Nesta shakes her head, gaze moving to the window. Cassian will be pestering her to get a move on soon—they were supposed to leave an hour ago, but she wanted to wait. “So you don’t want to speak with her, Bas is out of the question, and getting her away from the House is wrong,” she states flatly. “What about Az?”

Elain stiffens for a moment, inhales, then relaxes.

“That’s the worst idea yet,” she sighs, smiling despite herself. “She’s out with Mor today anyway. Let’s just see how that goes.” Nesta turns away, sharp eyes flitting to the clock atop the mantel piece. “Fine. But things need to change.”

————

She’s been leaving her room less and less, coiling tighter and tighter in recent days.

He’s certain that’s entirely to do with the agreement they had come to almost a week ago.

The scent of gardenias flourishes in her wake, touched to the handles of mugs and the hilts of cutlery. She’s even taken to wearing gloves when she deigns to seek food, scurrying through the hallways on what she must think are quiet feet. It seems even the House is reluctant to encourage her reclusive behaviour. Quiet pitter-pats softly padding down hallways, cotton socks tip-toeing along floorboards, fabric fluttering as she whispers between walls.

He’s begun noticing unusual crooks in cutlery—subtly misshapen around the necks of the metal. Often accompanied by a dull warmth, like soft skin fresh from the sun, steadily cooling in dappled shade. Plates are usually clean: washed, dried and returned to the cupboards after use. Very few things are ever out of place once she’s made her bi-daily trips to the kitchen, as if limiting her marks on the space. Keeping her distance, even in the background.

Her sleeping pattern is sufficient for the most part, only occasionally is there no light coming from beneath her door by the time midday strikes. With the days becoming shorter, candlelight frequently flickers in the hallway once night has descended, generally winking out before midnight, though that’s also subject to change.

Why does he always get tasked with chaperoning?

Azriel nods his silent thanks to the House, a hot meal delivered to his desk, pointedly placed atop the book he’s been meaning to read. A habit that had initially been formed three centuries ago—close enough, anyway. Sleep is a rare delight, a luxury he’s rightly denied, often allowing him time to complete more reports, file new orders, map out future movements.

The book had been purchased with these long nights in mind, intended to help relieve the immense stress of managing his work, now manifesting as strain across his wings and back, often finding the trapezius aching, on the verge of cramping up. Supposedly, he would find himself restless, then turn to the novel for comfort, yet it would do nothing to assuage the guilt of not working. He needs to work to protect. He doesn’t need rest as long as he eats well and keeps up with training, pushing himself to the limit in every aspect of his life.

However, despite the self-indulgent purchase, completing these tasks; writing up reports sets him at ease. So long as everything is kept in order and regularly maintained, the fewer cold nights he’ll put himself through. He works to prevent events from tipping into unstoppable motion, to prevent opposing players being caught, finding themselves at the wrong end of his blade.

Those nights are bottomless. Spirals that have no pit, that he doesn’t always manage to escape in time.

There’s one kept away from the light now, slowly dying in the darkness he was born from. A sickness creeping into bones, softening minds to outer incisions. Plying apart willpower with contemptible cruelty.

Stares across at the pile of reports, paper bowing beneath the accumulating weight. Reaches for the first one, pen in hand, poised to take note of any changes mentioned. Steadily working his way through the pile, day draining to dusk, draining to night. Shadows swish and swirl, aimlessly flickering, freely crawling and creeping across the floor in search of things to report on. Catch the faint thumps of soft feet upon floorboards, pouncing on the sound.

Skitter beneath the doorframe, lurking at the threshold as the female figure approaches on pointed toes, tip-tapping over wooden boards, gliding past. Darkness observes dutifully, grabbing at details: lidded eyes, stray hairs loose, rectangular bags hanging regretfully from her forearms—handles biting into soft flesh. Watch as she passes, skirts swishing against brown paper with each step. Not fully present.

She passes by, keeping to the other side of the hall, giving the door an unnecessarily wide berth. Shadowed gaze strains ahead, tilted down to place her steps correctly, heading for her own chambers. Continues along, darkness stalking her steps, making sure she passes before moving to return to their keeper. Observe as she comes to a stop before a chest of drawers, bathed in moonlight. Atop is a large mirror, the frame intricately detailed. The surface is littered with little things: blown-out candles, burnt down incense, stray jewellery, a few lone arrowheads—probably misplaced.

Eyes wonder between the bits and bobs, attention not fully there, forearms marginally lower with the weight of result of her gifts. He keeps them from sneaking inside, discovering the contents. Notes as her gaze lingers on the candles, picking out their reflection in her eyes, moonlight contained within clear glass. Flick up to the mirror, shoulders sloping with fatigue, lips pursing.

Nib scratches across paper as he copies a sentence down, setting the parchment to the side, shadows already having slid the next one to his desk. Still-full plate pushed closer to the centre of his desk, encouraging him to eat. Seven more, he thinks, eyeing the steep stack of reports. Seven more, then I can eat.

Arms shift, evening out the weight of the bags. Relieving pressure from indented flesh as her eyes dart away at last, finished analysing. Skate over the metalwork of the frame, flora sculpted to each corner, in bloom. Rise higher, tracing the pristine blade mounted atop the mirror. Looking how her younger sister does at scenes she likes, the urge to put them onto a canvas itching at her fingertips.

Muscle snaps tight, a flinch zapping against her skin as feet stutter in their stillness. A faint green light sparks from beneath the gloves, teeth sharply clamping together, like the clink of porcelain.

Silence settles, limbs held taut as moments pass. Counting down, plummeting. Arm shifts slightly, then handles snap, the edges of the paper singed. Heart kicks up, lips parting in a choked inhale, lids widening marginally. Bags hit the floor, thudding dully as she winces, cottoned foot stuck out to muffle the sound, teeth clasping her lower lip.

Breathing quickens, shallowing as she hastily fans off her hands, as if cooling the skin before dipping down. Carefully scoops the bags back up into her arms, shoes pulled to her chest as she scuttles away to her own room, not sparing a look back. The smell of sweetened gardenias wafts in her wake, mixing with something smokey—like singed paper.

Pen pauses its movement, nostrils flaring delicately, throat rolling.

Shadows recede from the hallway, coast now clear.

Seconds tick by, before ink is scratched into parchment, resuming his task. A few more, he promises. A few more, then I can eat.

But minutes later, a few having passed, and the next report lies upon his desk, hazel eyes scanning the concise letters. Food untouched.

————

Midday hits, and you’re fidgeting outside the door, hand raised for the handle.

It turns before you get a chance to twist it, harshly stepping back, making room as it swings open.

Silky, golden hair gleams beneath the sunshine, a dazzling smile already in place as warm eyes latch to your own. Something stabs across your chest, and you have to ease a deep breath into your lungs, feigning surprise. “Gosh,” you murmur, a little breathlessly, “you startled me.”

Soft, pillowy lips widen in an even brighter smile, cheeks rounding with laughter as apologies ring from her mouth. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here already,” she smiles, opening the door wider as she steps out. “Hardly anyone in this family is ready on time,” she mutters playfully, as if exchanging a secret. You flush at the murmured tone, the look of playfulness, as if part of an inside joke shared between the two of you. Lips part in a helpless smile, a little shaky around the edges as nervousness burns your throat.

The door clicks shut, and she’s briskly walking down the steps, arm already linked below your own. The pale yellow dress floats about her ankles, heels the colour of golden straw lacing up her feet, the tea-coloured shawl prettily wrapped over deceptively slim arms. She waltzes over the cobbles as if it’s flat ground, the points of her shoes moving as she wills, dodging the dips and cracks as she pulls your with her.

“Is there anywhere you want you visit first?” She asks, steering you down the street, taking a right at the bottom of the front lawn, the sidra peeking between earth-toned buildings. Swallow thickly, finding your voice. “Not really…” you answer—you should have planned this in advance. Why hadn’t that crossed your mind? Clear your throat as you walk together, side by side. “We’re doing this together, right?” You manage, feeling as though your feet are slamming into the cobbles, stumbling over your shoes.

Honey-warm eyes flit to you, sparking with life. “What do you mean by that?” Avert your gaze from her gleaming features, the smooth skin and the perfectly plump lips. “It’s not just… You’re going to be getting things too, right?”

Her smile doesn’t falter for a second. “If that’s what you want, then I’m sure I can find something to spend money on,” she laughs, squeezing your arm lightly in a surprisingly familiar gesture. You manage a tight smile, one you hope looks regular. You’d settle for believable. She laughs again, attention returning to swiftly scanning shop windows, flitting about each front, effortlessly making her way through the street. “We’ll tell Amren it took more convincing than that, won’t we?” She says, again in that intimately secret tone you’re having trouble understanding.

“Amren?” You ask, confused. There was no mention of Amren joining this trip over the dinner. Stomach plumes with anxiety. Would it be too obvious to feign a stomach ache? Mor doesn’t seem the least bit perturbed by your bewilderment. “We had a bet, of sorts. She bet that I’d end up coming home with at least three bags of clothing,” she elaborates. “Shouldn’t be too difficult, right?” Manage a stiff nod, scrambling to keep up with the conversation, thrown off by the brightness of the sky, how crisp the wind is, how noisy background chatter can be.

“Right,” you say in response.

“Wrong,” Mor corrects, making your skin flush with embarrassment. “I have never once managed. Any less than five and something’s gone wrong.” She smiles at you, then her attention flicks over your head. “What about that one?” She asks, nodding to a store. Turn to peer at the shop fronts—none of them containing books. Throat rolls, scanning again. “Which…one?”

Mor only laughs, already dragging you toward an open door. “Come on, it’ll be fun, I promise,” she smiles. “Besides, you said you wanted me to do some shopping too, right?” Reluctantly nod your head, because yes, you had said that.

Ease a heavy breath, stepping into the large store, filled with clothing, the aisles thankfully wide enough to accommodate multiple bodies without becoming packed.

Beginning the long day.

————

“What about this?” Mor asks pulling out pale yellow dress, a few shades darker than her own. Clear your throat, nodding, “looks nice.” Her eyes sparkle, pushing it onto your hands, “go try it on then!” You blink, peering down at the dress that’s been pushed into your gloved hands. Quickly shake your head, trying to push it back to her. “I thought you meant for yourself,” you hastily clarify.

Rosey lips lift into a charming smile, “I’ve got way too many in yellow and gold. Besides, you said it looks nice, right?”

“Well, yes…”

“Then try it on!” She encourages, nodding toward the changing rooms. But you shake your head, “it’s autumn already, I wouldn’t be able to wear something like this until next summer.”

“Perfect! We can look for a jumper— or cardigan,” she corrects, noting the cozy wooden piece you’ve wrapped yourself in. Already her eyes are scanning the racks for something complimentary.

Shake your head, “really, it’s fine. I have enough.”

Her hands still from sorting through the hangers, fingers pausing, before settling on the wooden pole. “You know you can get things that you want now, right?” She asks gently, gaze resting on the rack. Lick your lips as apprehension builds in your shoulders. “I know I can,” you reply slowly, “I just— I don’t— want anything.” She looks at you then, and you swear you catch something flicking through her gaze, but it’s gone too quickly for you to be sure.

A beat of silence passes, tension coiling your stomach, muscles contracting.

“Okay,” she says at last, softer than before. “It’s not for everyone, I suppose.” Warm-honey eyes flick down to the dress still clutched in your hands, “would you at least try it on? To see what it feels like?” Your lips purse, hesitant to do something so deeply indulgent, but… She’s compromising here. You should respect that. Throat rolls, nodding, “okay.”

The edges of her mouth soften into something that’s not quite a smile, but it’s reassuring. “You’ll look great,” she says, “I’m sure of it.”

————

A few hours have passed, food eaten, Mor trying on clothes here and there. At least ten different items from each shop, and you’re relieved. Relaxed enough that she’s managed to coax you into trying on a few other things here and there. Nothing that would even compare to some of the clothes you’ve seen the others in, but it’s a start. Nothing you would have cared even think about a few years ago. It still makes you a little sick to think of the steep gap in wealth.

What would have happened if Feyre hadn’t killed that wolf?

You’d probably still be there now, dreading the onset of icy winter, the early morning bite of cold that would seep beneath the thin blanket. The dirt and grime beneath nails, skin tacky with dried sweat, hair smelly and matted.

Swallow thickly, moving your gaze around the large shop—another clothing store. Locate Mor in the far corner, having wondered off of your own volition to peer at a pair of earrings, deep blue set in silver. Thumb the empty slots on your ear absently—it would be nice to have some jewellery. Something thin and elegant, not too chunky, but subtle and dainty. Run the pads of your fingers over the cool glass of the pendant at your neck, feeling the reassuring weight.

“See something you like?”

You nearly choke on your tongue, releasing a surprised sound as you snap your attention to the side, Mor having snuck up on silent feet to peer over your shoulder. Inhale deeply, pressing a hand over your chest, feeling the rapid flutter of your heart as you attempt to even out your breaths. Manage to shake you head, “just looking.” Her eyes catch on something, pointing through the glass case, “what about that?” Turn to see what she’s talking about. “The rings?” You ask.

Goodness, rings would be lovely. You’ve see the ones Feyre sometimes wears—silver with slices of gem encrusted along the surface. The ones Rhys sometimes wears—flat, thick bands of sterling, a single one carved into a feather, wrapped around his fifth finger. Then the ones Mor wears, shifting between different metals depending on her mood—todays she’s feeling golden.

“Look at that one,” she gushes, pointing at the band containing a small ruby, polished to perfection. A smile creeps onto your lips of its own accord. “That’s very you,” you say, a hint of a laugh surprising both of you. She nudges you playfully, “I’m more than just red and gold, you know.” Lips part in a more open smile, corners quirking as you hum back, “of course, my mistake. Too few jewels for your taste.”

Mor blinks for a moment, a beat passing, then a ringing laugh spills from her rosey lips, eyes closing for a second to conceal her surprise. Palm coming over her mouth in attempts to muffle the joyous sound. Dip your head in slight embarrassment, a shy smile playing on your mouth as she tries to recompose herself.

“What were you looking at?” She asks once she’s pulled herself back together, golden hair silkily cascading over her shawl as she runs her fingers through the soft mass, sending it spilling in new directions. You shrug, hastily averting your eyes again, head dipping away. “Nothing in particular.”

Mor hums, laughter still bright on her features. Her hand suddenly clasps your forearm, making you tense. “What about that?” She asks, sounding somewhat breathless. Raise your gaze to follow her direction, spotting the dress that’s hung at the end of a pole. “It’s perfect for you,” she says, excited, already pulling you gently toward it. Reluctantly, you follow.

You can tell why she thinks you’ll like it. In terms of practicality, it seems to be excellent, the dress made of a creamy-cocoa coloured wool, looking like it would be soft against your skin. The neckline itself is a gentle v, the curve not too steep, an elegant suggestion instead of blatant showcasing. Both the sleeves and the skirt of the dress are modest, looking like you’d be able to tuck your hands beneath the wool should you become too cold, the hem of the dress nearing the floor.

For the first time that day, you allow Mor to push the dress into your gloved hands, allow her to convince you to try it on, even to convince you it looks nice over your shape. The wool is as soft as it looks, almost sending you to sleep from the warm brush, soothing as it contains your heat, like being swaddled in feather-soft cotton. It’s a little close-fitting around your ribs and stomach, pressing comfortably but not tight—a little too revealing, but it can be hidden by a cardigan or cloak. Spin in a small circle, watching as the skirts flare at your ankles, then falling back against your legs, cosy and soft.

“You look lovely,” Mor says from your side, and you turn to face her, a helpless smile lifting the edges of your mouth. This is something you wouldn’t mind having. It’s warm and practical, comfortable without compromising appearance. There are no intricate details, no sequins or jewels to make it particularly astonishing, just simple and plain. Absolutely perfect.

“Do you want it?” She asks quietly, having moved closer. Throat rolls, gloved fingers running over the wool—how lovely it would be to feel it properly. You do want it, but… “Let me get it,” she says, hand lightly clasping your wrist, turning you toward her. Eyes flick down at the warm wool, taking in its soothing comfort. The redirection is on your tongue, prepared to deny yourself further. “That’s what this whole trip is for,” she reminds, tone quiet. “You like it, don’t you?” She asks, and discomfort squirms beneath your skin—you can’t lie to her.

Her lips part into a wide smile, hands pressing together. “That’s great,” she reassures, “let me get it for you. As a belated present.” Eyes dip lower, pressing into the floorboard, brows tightening ever so slightly. This isn’t something you need…

You can’t quite bring yourself to look at her as your head dips. “Okay…”

You feel more than see the air shift, brightening as she eases a breath out, smile widening into sunshine. “Perfect!” She signs, “I was beginning to doubt we’d find anything.” You manage a tight smile, still unable to go fully look at her, but—it’s going to be yours. How long has it been since you’d been in a situation where you were allowed to pick something you liked, instead of a hand-me-down?

Naturally almost an entire new wardrobe had been offered upon your initial transportation here, but those were plain in a different way. The idea of having a cupboard full of clothes explicitly for yourself seems wildly indulgent, bordering on selfish. What could one person possibly need so many clothes for? Yet the way the wool sits soft against your skin has you beginning to understand the want, why it’s so important to some people. Throat rolls, touching gloved hands to your waist, feeling the wrap of warmth around your skin. “Thank you.”

A weight settles in your chest, but you can’t quite bring yourself to regret the purchase.

————

After being taken from shop to shop, you’d finally reached one of the many bookstores in Velaris—the point your discipline had taken a heavy hit.

Peer down at the brown paper bag on your arm, one of three. The first containing the dress, the second containing a comfy pair of slippers Mor had managed to convince you to allow her to buy—there had been an ochre yellow jumper too, that you’d had to beg her not to buy because you’d caught sight of the price tag. And this third bag, containing two new books. You’d taken your time deciding on them—books don’t last you very long, generally being finished anywhere between a few hours and a week depending on your interest.

Darkness has fallen thanks to the days becoming shorter, a wave of fatigue washing through your mind as you glance out through the windows, peering down at Velaris, lit by dotted faelights—appearing as little, bright stars spotted amongst inky blackness.

Shoes are held in your arm, not wanting to tread dirt into the floors, the three bags weighing on your forearm as you behind quietly making your way to your room. You don’t know who else is about, and while the days hadn’t been as straining as you had anticipated, any more interaction threatens to send you spiralling.

Cotton socks tread lightly as you make your way through the halls, trying to keep from kneeing any of the bags in case it disturbs someone.

The corridors seems darker than usual, something ineffable about his presence affecting the surrounding area as you raise to the points of your toes, keeping volume to a minimum. Heart picks up as you keep to the left of the hallway, creeping at the edges like an unwanted creature, keeping to the darkness in fear of being caught and squashed. Keep your gaze on the floor as you try to move past as quietly as possible, peering along to the end of the corridor, a single wide window illuminating the floor. Moonlight spills through it, pooling on the wooden boards, reflecting onto the short set of drawers pushed against the wall.

You pass by his door as quietly as possible, hardly breathing until you reach the piece of furniture. Peer at the small trinkets scattered across its top, momentarily distracted. Some stray jewellery glints against the wood, little tea lights and incense sticks, a few arrowheads that have been discarded. It’s unnervingly simple to find various little weapons lying around, short daggers accidentally thrown in with cutlery, or things like arrowheads that have seemingly been forgotten this far into the House.

Eyes inadvertently lift to the large mirror, locking with your reflection. Something shifts just out of your vision, but you remain latched on. Stare at your hair, the set of your mouth in relation to your eyes, the corners aligning with your pupils. Look lower, shifting over collar bones and tense— You relax your shoulders, untighten your jaw, releasing the lines of tension that have been carved into your body.

Stare at your mouth again, tempted to raise the pads of your fingers to skate across the skin—test to see if they’re as pillowy as Mor’s appeared. Throat rolls, pressing down on the urge. Why bother comparing yourself like that.

Gaze breaks from the mirror, shoulders sloping further. The day was fun. Fun.

She’s enjoyable to be around. Almost enough for you to want another day. She knows how to speak to people, how to set them at ease. Brows tighten as you recall her smile, dazzling like sunshine, practically spelling you into response. Once again peer at the downward tilt of your mouth. Who would want to kiss such a sad looking mouth?

Look away before your thoughts go any further.

Lift up, settling on the mounted blade. Moonlight grins along its edge, hanging tauntingly overhead. Like a guillotine poised to snick down on your reflection. Throat rolls, the point of the steel twinkling like starlight, tongue flicks out to wet your lower lip.

Mindlessly wander how sharp it is, if there’s some tale behind it—maybe an heirloom. Either way, it must be special, to be put on display like that.

Again trace the smile of the curved blade, following the gleaming edge of steel.

(Would its slice would be faster than pain?)

Pain splinters up your knuckles, breath catching int your throat as fingertips burn. Jaw clamps, muscle locking as violent aches cramp your palms, lacing beneath the sleeves of your dress.

Keep still, eyes squeezing shut as you ease breaths into your lungs. The pain subsides to a dull itch, and you move to turn. Nostrils flare at the smell of smoke, eyes flicking down as the handles of the bags snap, singed and burnt away. Heart picks up at the books plummet to the floor, ready to thud intrusively on the boards, crack through the silence. Socked-foot sticks out before you can think, just needing to muffle the sound before it hits.

Teeth sink into your lower lip as one of the corners hits the bridge of your foot, undoubtedly going to bruise later, but you keep the noise of pain to a minimum. Heart pounds in the silence, and you’re swiftly ducking down to scoop the bags into your arms. Humiliation burns in your throat, shame twisting in your gut. If you had been less greedy…less hoggish… So stupid.

The gifts weigh in your arms like burning coals, clutched to tightly, desperately, as you scurry away down the hall. Crawling away into the distance.

————

Unscrew the pot of hand cream as soon as you’ve finished shoving the bags into the dust beneath your bed, pushed as far back as possible.

Peel back gloves, their tips singed open, already dipping your fingers into the cooling balm.

The sickening smell of gardenias floats up to you, skin burning as you rub the cream in, stinging from the aftermath. Fleetingly peer at the blank paper atop your desk, taunting but unadded to.

Feel control slipping out from under you, like the world is moving without you. Just a few steps behind. Heart picks up, a light, panicky feeling setting in. Fingertips crackle, glowing bright and tears slip out, teeth biting into the raw pain of your lip.

Swallowing down a single choked cry.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei @kemillyfreitas @chasing-autumns-chill @marvelpotter @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde @fall-myriad @historygeekqueen

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x yn #azriel acotar #azriel angst #CBMTHY #multi part fic

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readychilledwine · 8 months

Text

Bound by Fate - Part Two

Part 2 Summary - just a short little filler after Kaylee finally wakes up.

Warnings - slight self harm/rage fit, references to sexual assault, some sexual tension

Word Count - just over 2000

Part One Part Three Part Four Part Five

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

Deep voices caused Kaylee to stir. She was somewhere soft, warm, and there was something strong wrapped around her. "She's waking up," a smooth voice said. "Come on, Kaylee."

Another set of hands brushed her hair and sweat from her forehead. Soft, large, slightly calloused. Rhys, her mind whispered. "We are all right here, honey. You are safe."

Scarred hands ran up and down her back, her arms, her neck. They laced into her hair and scratched her head as if they knew a headache was starting. "She is overwhelmed." Kaylee snuggled further into the source of that voice, of those hands. "We have food downstairs, Kaylee. I know you're hungry. Just open your eyes and we will get you downstairs."

Kaylee finally stirred enough to peek one eye open slowly, keeping the other screwed shut to ensure that this wasn't another cruel joke. "You are safe," Rhys whispered again.

Kaylee opened both of her eyes before beginning to stretch and accidentally tapping a wing behind her. The hand in her hair tightened and Rhysand chuckled lightly. "Sorry."

Rhysand pulled Kaylee's hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "He's fine. There's dresses in the closet. I'm going to leave you two alone. Dinner will be served in 30 minutes."

Kaylee rolled into Azriel's chest, immediately noticing how she could now actually place his scent. Cedar and Night air. He held her silently. Allowing her to process being awake, allowing her to process where she was.

The silence between them was comfortable, despite the numerous questions he had. He remembered her at the King's feet. Pale, broken, lifeless. As if every ounce of joy and youth had been drained from her. He knew what had happened there, but he needed answers on how deeply that emotional scar ran.

He finally broke the silence between them, "When you're ready, I need you to show Rhysand what all happened. We do not have to talk about it, but we need to know who all was involved." Kaylee just nodded against him as a soft pull came from her ribcage. "I also need to know where boundaries are with us now."

She processed that sentence as if it was being drug through mud. "I don't think there can be an us right now, Azriel." The words stung him. The bond aching at the slight rejection. "I don't think I can just hand myself to you after-" he watched as her eyes squeezed shut again, as if blinking hard enough would erase those memories.

Azriel kissed her forehead gently. "I do not want you to hand yourself to me, Kaylee." The soft timber of his voice made her relax significantly. "I want you to heal. I want you to grow. I want to be by your side and in your corner as that happens."

Warm wet tears began to run down her face as she finally looked at Azriel. His hazel eyes were studying her as he wiped the tears from her cheekbones. "I can wait forever, Kaylee. But I can't stay away. All I ask is you do not push me away. If this is as close to intimacy as we ever come again, I can live with this. I can live knowing you are safe in my arms, happy, and healthy. Okay?"

She nodded again, love overfilling her heart. Pulling him closer to her, she just laid in his arms. "I'm sorry," her voice was broken. Her hands and body were beginning to tremble. The weight of what was between them hit her. This constant connection between the two of them hit her. She felt his anger, his sorrow, and his self-loathing. She felt his relief and joy. She felt that string of emotions running through him.

"You NEVER apologize for what that asshole did to you ever again. Do you hear me?" Azriel forced her to look at him. "Nothing that happened was your fault. You owe no one an apology."

"He-"

"Will pay for what he did to you. He will suffer for every second of it." Azriel pulled her in again. "Even if it takes me 900 years, Kaylee. He will suffer."

It was a promise that had Kaylee leaning impossibly further into his body. Silence fell between the two again as his wings wrapped around them and shielded her from the outside world.

Kaylee's stomach interrupted the silence this time. "I'm really hungry." Azriel hid his smile in her hair. "Really really hungry."

Azriel looked down at her again before holding his hand out and grabbing the dress his shadows brought to him. "I'll let you get dressed and then take you downstairs." Azriel pulled himself away from her, painfully slow, and Kaylee's eyed widened. "What?" Kaylee shook her head. "Does me being shirtless bother you, honeybee?"

It did. It bothered her a lot actually. Azriel was beautiful. Muscles sat under tanned skin, dark swirling tattoos covered his arms, chest, and shoulders. "I-" Azriel just smirked as her mouth shut. He approached her slowly and leaned down to her now sitting height. "Hi."

"Hello," he kissed her nose softly. "The bathroom is right there," she watched as his hand motioned towards the open doorway. Her eyes trailed the veins in his arms. He watched as she bit her lip. Studying her reaction to him as if he was someone he had locked in his dungeon. He knew he would have to tell Rhys what he was figuring out very quickly.

They all knew from their experience with the sexually assaulted priestess, and from Rhysand, that victims fell into a few different categories, and he was quickly figuring out Kaylee's. Shame and guilt flooded the bond from her end once the arousal hit. "It's perfectly fine and normal for you to still have wants and urges." Azriel kissed her forehead again before leaving the room to go change.

Cassian was leaned against his bedroom door and pushed off of it. "How is she?" They entered his room. Cassian immediately took a seat on Azriel's bed, wings stretching slightly and his face lightly wincing. "Fucking wings."

"Stop doing that before you hurt them again. She's numb outside. Terrified inside." Cassian nodded. The same feelings he was constantly experiencing from Nesta minus the anger. "She likes my arms," Azriel shrugged at Cassian.

Cassian laughed loudly. "You are attractive, Azzie." Azriel felt his face heating up, only furthering Cassian's laughter. "Is it okay if I go say hello to her?"

Azriel nodded and watched as Cassian left the room. It was then he allowed the absolute rage he felt to come forward. He was staring at himself in the mirror, buttoning the front of his shirt up, and without even knowing what was happening, his fist collided with the glass surface shattering it into thousands of tiny pieces.

He threw a few things to the ground, rage spiraling in him for longer than he was proud to admit. Hands found his shoulders and spun him into a tight hug. He breathed deeply, clinging to the soft jacket and scent of citrus and sea as Rhysand used that one spot in his shields to enter his mind and calm him.

"It's okay, Az." Rhys felt Azriel begin sobbing into his shirt. "Everything will be okay. She's in the dinning room with Cassian. It's just the four of us tonight. She's smiling, she's laughing at his shitty jokes. She's okay right now."

Azriel nodded, refusing to drop his hold on Rhys. "I want to kill him."

Rhysand understood. He wanted the King to suffer as well. He wanted him to suffer as payment for the years Rhys spent locked in Amarantha's bed, for the torture Feyre went through at his general's hands.

He wanted to kill him after he allowed his brothers to bleed and almost took them both from him. He wanted the king to suffer for every single moment or fear, pain, and devastation the Archeron sisters had been through.

He wanted to kill him for the nightmares that Rhys had watched plague Kaylee. The acts of cruelty forced upon a mortal girl barely entering her adulthood. He wanted his head on a spike, delivered to her by Azriel after the Spymaster had stripped the King of every shred of hope the way he had Rhysand's poor little sister.

"We will, Az. We will skin him alive if that's what you need. Right now, though, Kaylee is taking a big step her sisters have not yet, and she needs support. She needs you." Rhys paused to heal Azriel's hands, the House having already picked up and repaired the rest. "Let's go eat. There's brownies. The ones Cerridwen makes with the salted caramel swirled in it. Kaylee might eat all of them before you get there if you don't hurry." Azriel pulled away. His face fell as he took in Rhysand's serious features. "Her sweet tooth puts yours and Cassian's to shame, brother."

Azriel instantly moved out of the room, yelling down the stairs as he stalked towards them. "Kaylee, I swear on the Mother, if you eat all of those brownies we will fight."

Cassian's loud laughter filled the house immediately, mixing with one Rhysand and Azriel could only describe as soft. It felt like rain falling on the roof of the House. Like a gentle breeze on a hot day. Rhysand tapped his shoulder, and they looked toward the windows lining the room.

Countless animals scurried, birds flapped their wings happily, soaring carelessly in celebration. Rhys felt his jaw tighten and Azriel felt his stomach drop.

Her laughter was the final confirmation that the sudden increase in wildlife around the Night Court had to do with Kaylee. They took their seats calmly as Kaylee and Cassian continued to giggle.

Azriel watched as Rhysand looked over Kaylee. She looked beautiful in the pretty off the shoulder cotton dress, her hair braided by Cass. But power that continued to beat off of her, echoing through the halls that had Rhysand's interest and attention.

He finally said into Azriel's mind, She has powers over nature and animals. We need to be careful. If she can summon little things unknowingly with just her laughter, Gods know what she could bring with practice.

Azriel's jaw twitched. There were countless possible answers for what she could be. Amren had been searching for days now, only finding more questions. Questions they'd only be able to answer by using Kaylee's powers. He looked over at Kaylee. Her smile was beaming as she laughed at whatever Cassian just said as he pushed more food on her plate. Rhys, we have no clue what she actually-

I know. Rhys interrupted the thought. His own cut off as Kaylee reached for Azriel's hand and held it. It was a subtle movement caused by the bond. She had felt Azriel's need for comfort and offered it to him instantly. We just have to be careful.

Taglist:

@impossibelle

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel fic #multi part fic #azriel shadowsinger

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