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judeswhore · 11 months

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breaking up with jude and having to take all his things back to him

omg wait i actually wrote something abt this for a fic i was gna write and then scrapped so u can have it here, it’s not the best but

"y'know you could've just asked me to drop these off for you. then you wouldn't have to see him." katie riffled around in the bottom of her bag in search for something, her tone light despite her words and she only glanced at you briefly while waiting for a reply. tearing your gaze from the house across the road you shook your head, wiped your sweaty palms across the material of your trousers.

"i want to see him."

"you want to see him?"

"yeah. no. i don't know, kinda? i don't want him to think i've taken the break up badly."

him being jude. after almost three years of dating he'd brought the relationship to an end, a decision he promised you he hadn't made lightly. for you it was out of the blue, you hadn't been fighting and there'd been no signs, sure you hadn't seen each other much with uni and his career but that was something you'd grown used to. for him it had been building. he said he couldn't handle the distance anymore, that it was getting too much to love someone who was never around. you got it, sort of, but that didn't make it hurt less. this conversation had happened two weeks ago, you'd only just found the motivation to peel yourself out of bed to return a bunch of his things.

from across the car, katie threw you skeptical look.

"you've cried every day since and consumed like half of england's ice cream supply. you have taken it badly." you huffed and leaned into the back seat to grab the box, careful not to let anything tumble out when you pulled it into your lap.

"he doesn't need to know that." you best friends mouth opened, a disapproving retort on her tongue but you beat her to it, pushing the car door open. "i'm okay now. i want to do this in person." you stumbled out with the box, turning to close the door behind you but katie had leant across, her face soft, eyes just a little sad.

"hey, he doesn't deserve you, remember? this was his loss."

at his front door you simply stared for a few moments, unable to lift to your hand and knock. returning the things he'd left at your place made the break up seem much more real, like giving him his hoodies back meant it was a done deal. you were handing over a piece of your heart with the box of his belongings, because no matter what, that would always belong to him too. a dog barked a few houses down and forced you into action, your fist coming down three times on the white door.

there was a few seconds of silence, the click of the lock and then the door swung open, revealing a freshly showered jude. the first glimpse of him in two weeks tugged at your chest, made your tummy dip and it was difficult pushing back the overwhelming urge to press against him. your body told you to kiss him, habits didn't die easily, your mind trying to catch up with the slight difference in his appearance. he'd grown his beard a little longer and his hair hadn't been cut in the time you'd been apart. his bottom lip was cut.

"hi." his voice cracked and he made a face, sent you a half sheepish smile before clearing his throat. "hey."

"i brought your stuff." straight to it. you weren't sure you could stand here and exchange small talk with him without breaking down. there was the smallest bit of comfort in the fact that he looked as bad as you felt. there were dark circles under his eyes, he obviously hadn't been sleeping, and the grey joggers he was wearing had a multitude of different stains down them. something tugged again at your chest and you swallowed thickly, thrust the box not so gracefully towards him. "i think i packed everything, i can- if i forgot anything i'll get katie to drop it off."

like you should have gotten katie to do today because looking at him hurt so much you felt like your heart was breaking all over again. the air around you was tense and awkward, jude kept shuffling from one foot to the other and you couldn't stop your palms from sweating. it was strange how someone who used to make you feel so safe and loved suddenly made you want to disappear inside yourself. jude took the box with careful hands, palms flat against the bottom to avoid brushing your fingers. the second he had hold of it you tucked your hands into the pocket of your hoodie. you didn't want him to see them shaking.

"you didn't have to drop them off, i could've come by." he could have but you knew deep down he wouldn't have. something told you he would've avoided you at all costs until he went back to germany. "but thanks. d'you wanna come in?" your gaze snapped up to his from where you'd previously been focused on his shoulder. "to get your things. i packed them up when you text earlier."

"oh. yeah, sure." you nodded and followed him into the familiar living room, the pain in your chest doubling when the scent of his aftershave washed over you. there was a box of your things on his sofa, your clothes and make up, small things you'd left behind, things you never thought you'd have to take back. placed at the very top of the box was one of jude's england shirts, one of the first ones he'd warn for the senior team, the one you always wore around his house. nausea rolled over you at the fact he was giving you it.

"i don't need that." jude followed your gaze and you watched his throat bob on a swallow as he dropped his own box down beside yours. his fingers brushed the material.

"it's basically yours, it doesn't fit me anymore so i don't need to keep it. i thought you'd want it." you only shook your head, you couldn't wear that shirt knowing that it was connected to a part of your life that didn't exist anymore. jude always made comments about how he liked seeing his girl in his shirt, he'd always pull you close and smother you in kisses and tell you how pretty you looked. you couldn't wear the shirt knowing you weren't his girl anymore, knowing one day someone else would wear that shirt. that he'd find another girl. you tried to talk around the lump that had settled in your throat.

"i don't want it, jude."

"right. no, of course not." again he cleared his throat and you needed to leave, needed air before the tears started and you collapsed in his living room. jude took the shirt and held it between both hands. for a few moments you were both quiet, watching each other, unsure what to say and before you could blurt something you'd regret, you reached for the box.

"i should-"

"i am sorry, y'know. i didn't- i never wanted to hurt you."

"but you did."

"i know and it's killing me. i should've told you how i was feeling instead of letting it drag out and leaving you in the dark. you didn't deserve that." his words were rough and you'd known him long enough to know he was fighting back tears. you also knew if you watched him cry, you'd also cry and you'd promised yourself you wouldn't do that in front of him. you wouldn't let him see you vulnerable like that again.

"no, i didn't."

"baby-" the endearment slipped from his lips from habit and you froze on your turn to the door, stomach dropping and that ache building even more in your chest. jude shook his head a little and rubbed the back of his neck, his bicep straining against the soft cotton of his shirt. "i'm sorry."

"i know you are but that doesn't make me feel any better. i don't- i can't have this conversation again, i can't hear you say you don't love me anymore, jude." pain and regret twisted his features and he shook his head. he made to reach for you but thought better of it, pressed his hands to his sides.

"i didn't stop loving you."

"stop it." your bottom lip wobbled and you had to stare straight at his chest to avoid the look in his eyes. "you can't- i don't want you to lie to me. you broke up with me, you don't do that if you love someone."

"that's not fair."

"life isn't really fair, is it?" without thinking, your fingers raised to tug at the necklace around your throat, a nervous habit you'd picked up years ago. it was only then that you even realised you were still wearing it, the silver "j" suddenly feeling hot and heavy against your skin. "oh, i forgot.."

setting the box down again, you fiddled with the clasp, awkwardly unclipped it before letting the piece of jewellery drop into jude's palm. he stared at it for a few seconds before shaking his head, trying to push it back towards you but you'd already picked the box back up.

"no, this is yours, you don't need to give me it back."

"i'm not gonna keep wearing it, jude. why would i?"

"because-"

"i'm not yours anymore, remember? i'm not gonna wear a necklace that says i am. i don't want it." your tone was harsh, harsher than necessary and it made him flinch, his brows drawing in. "wearing that let me pretend that this wasn't real, that it wasn't actually happening but it is and i can't keep lying to myself. everything reminds me of you and it hurts. i don't want it to keep hurting."

jude dropped his gaze, let his eyes instead focus on your hands. you were both quiet for a few seconds, neither knowing what to say. you'd gotten everything out of your systems the day of the break up, there was nothing else to say other than goodbye. you cleared your throat and nodded a little awkwardly towards the door.

"katie's waiting for me."

for the second time in as many weeks, jude let you walk away without another word.

#hey jude :)#jude bellingham #leigh’s baby blurbs #sinclaiirs baby blurbs #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb

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azsazz · 1 year

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Winter Winds

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Anon req: ik you probably won’t get to this in a while but i just read “in ribbons” and absolutely loved it!! got me so hot and bothered. anyway, thinking abt az, reader, and the kids got me thinking…what if the entire ic and their kids are all at wind haven for some trip or something. the oldest kids are pre teens, a bit older maybe. while at the camps, someone attacks the reader and she’s like seriously hurt. like seriously seriously hurt. az goes ballistic, and all the kids get so worried. but especially the older ones, maybe wren baz and zuzu, they get super angry and want to help az get revenge for their mother?

Warnings: Injury, mentions of blood and gore. Traumatized children but they are otherwise unharmed.

Word Count: 4,921

Notes: You didn’t think I forgot about posting today, did you? Silly. I didn’t make them pre-teens, they’re I guess a bit younger than that but close, but I think I’ve got most of the idea in here, except the revenge part. Sorry about that and sorry in advance this one’s kinda sad.

_________________________________________

“Daddy?!”

His son’s frantic voice slices up his spine like an icy blade, plunging deep and cleaving him in half.

At the sound, Azriel’s body flashes hot with adrenaline and everything else slows to a crawling pace.

He spins on his heel instantly, ignoring the grumbling of the camp warlord who’d been reporting to him, now muttering under his breath about letting his savage brood run wild in the camps, that he doesn’t know how to raise them.

His family means more to him than anything, and that terrified shout from his son to grab his attention isn’t one he’s heard in years.

Something is very very wrong.

Azriel’s heart stammers in his chest like the frantic beat of wings in war when he locks eyes with his second oldest son, Baz.

He shouldn’t be out here alone, even if he has been in the training camps for nearly two years now and knows his way around. If any of the warriors had grabbed him and thought to teach the Azriel a lesson through his child…the spymaster shivers at the thought.

The more pressing concern, the one that makes his brows twitch into confusion and fuels his feet forward and nearly halts his heart in his chest, is that young Baz isn’t dressed for the cold. The Illyrian mountains in the peak of Winter could give even the most attuned warrior frostbite in mere minutes, and Baz isn’t even wearing a coat.

Worse yet, there’s tears streaming down his ruddy cheeks, cherry red from his journey.

He must’ve run the entire way to meet him in boots that are untied and tripping him in his haste to find his father. If someone’s stolen his jacket Azriel will be the last thing they see as he–

Azriel’s slipping out of his own coat, uncaring that the snaps rip open by the base of his wings. He needs to get his son bundled up, and quickly, before he comes down with something worse than the cold Azriel already knows is in his future. He scoops Baz into his arms, wrapping him carefully and hugging him close to his chest. His shadows swirl around both of them, already preparing to winnow them away.

“What’s wrong buddy?” he’s whispering, wiping the tears from his son's bruning face. Sometimes he and his older brother will get into arguments that have one of the boys running to Azriel in a fit full of tears but never something quite like this. Baz knows how to put his coat and tie up his boots and not to run across the camp alone–

The little boy in his arms releases a sob that nearly shatters the snowy peaks of the mountains surrounding them, “Mommy–”

He doesn’t need to continue. Azriel winnows them back to the house without a second thought, hugging Baz tightly to his chest, lips pressed to the crown of his sweaty black hair. He hopes that his son can’t feel him trembling, fisting his hands in his coat to stop the shaking. If something has happened to you he doesn’t know what he will do. How he will survive.

But he would’ve felt it, if there was something wrong, through the bond you share. He lets his shields slide down, reaching out for that golden thread, the one that feels like warm summer winds in the night sky, your hand caressing his soul.

There’s nothing.

Azriel gives a sharp tug but receives no response as he and his son arrive in a mass of black shadows on the front porch. The bond grows more taut with worry the more he tries, desperate pleas for you to respond that go unanswered as he shoves the door open with a heavy boot.

The house is in complete chaos.

His shadows scatter immediately, searching and returning with whispers of bloody fingerprints on the counter top, streaking across the wall in his bedroom, on the doorknob to the bathroom, while he frantically searches the room for the rest of his children.

Horror coils his gut at the scent of his mate’s blood, thick in the air. It makes him choke, hot and heavy in the back of his throat.

Azriel sets Baz down, nearly tearing the door off of its hinges when he shuts it and turns the lock. He allows himself a single drawn out breath while his mind reels for a plan of action.

Wren looks more worried than his little brother, though Azriel knows that his eldest is trying his best to keep his emotions together for his siblings.

He had a screaming Jax in his arms, the younger boy clearly distraught about the heightened feelings of anxiety and concern smothering him. He reaches up for Azriel as Wren carries the struggling babe closer, trying his best to keep hold of his brother.

“Dad,” Wren breathes a sob of relief, but Az notes the twins in their playpen, Malos’ cries are loud enough for the silent wailing babe beside her, four sets of tiny hands curled around the brim of the pen with white knuckled fingers.

“Wren, I need you to watch your siblings for a little bit longer, okay?” Azriel’s voice is strained with tension as he calls out to Rhysand in his head, his golden eyes a hair wider as he searches the room for Zuzu. He rubs a reassuring thumb across Wren’s cheek and over Jax’s hair, trying to calm the little boy down. “Uncle Rhys and Uncle Cass will be here any minute, alright bub? They’re going to take us all to the River House.”

Wren’s lip quivers but he’s squaring his shoulders as he looks up at his father, “Mommy’s hurt.”

“I know,” it pains him to say it, but by now he knows, “I’m going to get her, will you and Baz help the little ones put on their shoes please?”

Wren nods and sets to work helping his father while Azriel rushes towards the bathroom where his shadows have located both Zuzu and you.

He finds Zuzu is sitting in front of the bathroom door, banging on it as she wails for you. Her throat must be raw from the screaming because she sounds horse, tears dripping down her face and snot bubbling from her nose.

Azriel hears Rhys and Cassian appear in the living room, and he lifts Zuzu up from under her arms as Cassian appears, his first thought to help his brother.

“Az–” Cassian sounds nervous for his brother. When he’d gotten the call a short time ago telling him that he and Rhys needed to pick up the children because something had happened to you his heart dropped, terrified for his best friend.

“Just take her, please,” Azriel pleads, letting the worry he feels coat his words. His throat is tight with emotion and he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be able to keep himself from going berserk because he can see the red painted handprint on the brass knob and the smell of your blood is overpowering.

“I’ve got her,” Cassian nods, and the look in his hazel eyes gives Azriel brings forth that last shred of hope as his brother turns away and he twists the knob.

His knees nearly give out at the sight of you, unconscious and lying in a pool of your own blood. You look paler under the luminescent faelights, the hand holding together the gaping wound in your side now slack in the puddle of crimson.

Your name is a cry of helplessness on his lips as he dives forward, knees cracking against the tiles as he slides closer, pressing his fingers to the pulse point in your neck and caressing your face with the other, a shaky hand brushing the hair back from your face.

His shadows have alerted him that you’re breathing, but barely so, and he releases a shaky breath because he wasn’t able to feel the barely there beat of your pulse beneath his fingers with how badly they’re desensitized from his own burns and the pounding of his own heart.

But Gods–the gash in your side is something a warrior would receive in battle, like you have taken a long sword to the side, your flesh tearing open, muscles and blood and–

No, he doesn’t want to think about whether he sees an organ or not. No, he needs to focus on stopping the bleeding. Azriel can’t help but think, his beautiful mate…who has done this to you?

Rhys and Cass both appear within seconds, having called for the best healers in Velaris to the River House, where his children now are, under the care of the High Lady and Inner Circle themselves.

“Az,” Rhysand murmurs, hardly louder than a simple breath as he takes in the state of the room. His spymaster, on his knees in a pool of your blood as he tries his best to stop the bleeding. The towel you had grabbed is already sopping wet with blood and there’s no signs of it slowing.

His wings are drooped low behind him, the slippery warmth of the floor against the thin velvety skin is a reminder of exactly how much blood you have lost. Had he been any later, had you not sent Baz–

“Help me.”

It makes both brothers freeze, the utter helplessness, the devastation in Azriel’s voice, so small, so soft, unlike anything they’ve ever heard.

They jump into action.

“Az,” Cassian approaches him like he’s approaching a wild beast, unsure of how to approach this side of him, soft footing and hands raised in surrender. The spymaster lets his brother place a hand on his shoulder, turn him from his spot so that they’re looking at each other.

Cassian has never seen Azriel so panicked, not in the 500 years they’ve been best friends. Not through the wars, the nightmares, the births…not even through the mild complications you’d gone through when the twins were born. No, he was a solid wall, not an ounce of emotion had cracked through the barriers he had built, but this…

His chest heaves with every breath he takes, short and quick and filled with anxiety. Azriel’s hands are vibrating when Cassian takes them in his own. He doesn’t care that he’s kneeling in your blood, that Az’s hands are slippery with it, all he cares about are his friends.

“Az,” he tries again, and the usual honeyed gaze of the shadowsingers meets his own. He’d startled him. Can see the swirling emotions racing behind his eyes; the hatred, the scared, the utter fear, his mind unable to grasp onto one feeling long enough to put thought into it. “We’re going to take you to the River House, okay?”

He’d carry him if he had to, but Rhys can get the job done. There’s worry that Azriel might explode, break completely in his hands and let the beast within him finally take over. And if that happens, he’s glad the children are far away, because no one, not even Cassian nor Rhysand, will stop him from turning the Illyrian camps into nothing more than a tornado of black mist.

Azriel isn’t seeming to comprehend what he’s saying, head tilting down to look at where his hands rest in Cassian’s grip, thumb sliding through the cooling blood on his hands like it’s not the ichor of his mate, painting his hands the color of Cassian’s siphons.

Rhys comes around the both of them, crouching to place a hand on each of their shoulders. The wisps of darkness that carry them through the planes of the continent must strike something within Azriel because he’s tensing under his touch and wrenching away.

“Az,” Rhys commands softly, hands raised to show no sign of wanting to corral his brother’s anger, “The babes are right in there.”

The reaction from his statement is near instant, locking down his emotions little by little like the scales of his armor retracting into his leathers, until there is almost nothing left.

Azriel spins on his heel, already heading towards the shut door between him and the muffled cries of his children on the other side.

Cassian steps into his path, stopping him.

He watches the spymaster assess him with a trained eye but Cassian’s already weighed his brother's reactions in his head, being a true warlord himself. There is no way he will let the children see their father like this, worked up with their mother’s blood all over them.

Rhys draws the attention of the shadowsinger again, both Illyrians goading him like a tiger waiting to strike, “(Y/N) is this way. She’s with Madja and her best healers.”

The sound of your name strikes him low, chest caving and reaching down the bond for you again, knowing there will be no response, a wall of icy metal stopping him from entering.

Azriel glances at the door again, but makes his way towards the room you’ve been hauled off to, worried for your wellbeing.

The saliva is thick in his mouth as he ascends the stairs, his brothers tight on his flanks. His hands are curled into tight fists and he can feel the cracking of your blood on his hands in a way that would normally be calming if it were anyone else's blood, but not yours.

Never yours.

He pushes into the room and doesn’t look at the wound or the few nursemaids that are crouching over you. He doesn’t look at the bowls of water stained crimson, the towels dripping or the clothes they’d cut you out of, he keeps his focus on your closed eyes.

He’s quick to find his place at your side, perching out of the way as he reaches for your hand but freezes when he catches sight of his own.

“Here,” Cassian’s soft voice has him looking up, the warlord holding a freshly damp rag for him to take, not even a touch of red on it.

His throat works against a swallow as Azriel takes it, scrubbing his hands like he’s the one who’d rubbed his skin down to the bone and left these scars.

He does the best that he can without spiraling. He’s had blood on his hands before, many times, but the fact that it’s your blood has him reeling, immediately stopping the work on cleaning his own hands in favor of helping you clean yours.

When he’s done he hands it back to Cassian who gives him a soft nod and a sad smile. Neither are the things he wants to see right now. All he wants to see is you opening your eyes and looking at him, smiling, laughing, unharmed.

There’s nothing else to do but wait, which he does so quietly, stroking his thumb across your forehead while his other keeps your limp hand firmly tucked in his grasp.

He doesn’t look at the wound they’re stitching up, but he can’t help himself from reaching down the bond every few minutes, silently praying to the Mother that you will respond.

His brothers wait by the door. Rhys lets Cassian get cleaned up and check on the children while he watches Azriel from across the room, his own heart aching for his brother in this situation, to be near his own mate at a time like this.

But he stays put because that’s what any of them would do for each other, even when Cassian comes back, hands clean and clothes new, no traces of your blood on him.

They know that there will be no moving Azriel from your side to clean up, so they don’t even try. When Feyre dips her head into the room, catching a glance at you and your mate on the lone bed, a handful of healers working frantically around, they share a look.

It’s Rhys who approaches him this time, making sure his footsteps are heard by the shadowsinger as he nears.

He watches Azriel’s shoulders pull up taut, his spine stiffening and shadows curling his rounded ear that the High Lord is approaching.

His golden gaze is a harsh glare, a warning to stay away, and although Rhys understands the look, it still hurts.

“Az, maybe you should get cleaned up,” he suggests softly, keeping a healthy distance away from the bed. The healers have started sewing up your wound, having been able to stop the blood and stabilize you, and their work will be done soon.

The shadowsinger’s face doesn’t change as he looks back down at you, dismissing Rhys with that single action.

“The kids,” he tries, “They’re worried. They want to see you.”

Azriel nearly startles at the mention of his children. They’d been half scared to death when he’d last seen them, frantic and worried about their mother just as much as he was. He can see them all clearly, Wren trying to be strong, Baz’s red face wet with tears, Zuzu and Jax and the twins all crying out for help, understanding that something was horribly wrong.

“The kids,” he murmurs, as if he’s not even there. Azriel pets your hair again, smoothing his fingers down your cheek, across your lips, finding their way to the juncture of your jaw and throat, where your pulse is.

Rhysand waits with a baited breath as Azriel counts, comes to whatever conclusion in his mind that he can, grasping for some sort of sign that you might be okay.

The beating of your heart is constant, evened out even though one of the nurses has already told him as much. He won’t leave you if he doesn’t think you’ll be okay.

But he knows you would want him to make sure the children are okay, so he places a kiss on your hand, ignoring how the warmth hasn’t quite returned to it completely, before settling it comfortably at your side and standing from the bed.

He follows his brothers from the room and as soon as the door snicks shut behind him and the wail of Zuzu is carried to him on the whisper of a shadow, he breaks.

He makes a break for his children, his flight sense kicking in but he’s hauled backwards into the arms of Cassian, holding him tightly across the chest as he struggles.

If he were in his right mind he’d be able to figure a way out of his hold.

“Az, you have blood all over you,” Cassian grits, his breath puffing with the struggle of keeping Azriel in his hold. He’s writhing like an animal, trying to tear his way through whomever he needs to to get to his family. “You can’t go in there like this. You’ll scare them.”

That makes him stop struggling, worming his way out of Cassian’s touch.

“But Baz didn’t have a jacket on–”

“He’s already been looked at by a healer,” Rhys supplies, trying to calm the skittish shadowsinger.

“And Zuzu’s been screaming her head off,” he retorts just as easily, mind reeling at how his children must be feeling.

“She’s been given a soothing tea for her throat,” Cassian adds, fiercely protective of them as he is his own children.

“And Jax–”

“Jax is an empath,” Rhys agrees, ushering Azriel towards the other end of the hallway, “And it’s normal for him to react like that with all of the emotions running rampant in the room at the time. You need to calm yourself down if you are to hold him, your reactions will harm him more than Wren’s. For now he’s fine. They’re all okay, Azriel. Here and in one piece, waiting for you.”

Azriel’s wide eyes are glossy as he looks between his brothers, back and forth as if he’s searching for anything other than the truth there.

He won’t.

“They’re okay?” he asks again, not quite sure he believes it.

Both of his brothers nod, “They’re okay Az. Promise.”

.·:·.☽ ✦ ☾.·:·.

You feel like utter shit.

Like you’ve been carved down to the bone with a blade. There’s a pounding in your head and when you open your eyes the room spins, bright with light. Your head goes with it, the whispers of words striking like a bell tower to your brain.

“(Y/N)?”

That voice silences everything.

You squeeze his hand, blinking against the faelights until the three Azriel’s you see finally become one, perfect, mate.

“Az,” you breathe.

He bites his lip, hardly able to contain the relief he feels in this moment. He knows you’ve just opened your eyes but he’s squeezing his shut tight and resting his forehead gently against your own.

And the bond floods with warmth, his breath catching in his throat.

“I’m here,” your free hand finds his hair, smoothing through it the best that you can in your weakened state, “I’m here, Love.”

He nearly whimpers, would have if his mind hadn’t gone immediately into spymaster mode, seeing you awake.

He pulls away from you all too quickly, sitting straight in his spot beside you, the golden glow of his iris’ swimming with dark shadows.

“Who.” he asks, and it’s not a question. It’s the only word he can get out, voice dipped in steel and as sharp as the blade he’s been filing for the days you’ve been under rest.

“Some old relative,” you cough, throat dry, and you hiss at the pull in your stitches. Azriel is quick to help you drink some water down, soothing the roughness in your voice and the pounding in your head. “Claimed to be so, at least.”

“Fucking bastards,” he spits, the shadows in his eyes sweeping into hot, angry flames, “I’ll kill every single fucking one of them.”

“Az,” you sigh. You love your mate dearly and this is about as normal a reaction as you would expect from him, but you’re so achingly tired. “Are the kids okay?”

He shudders at the thought of something happening to your children and kisses across your knuckles, your hand in his shaking ones.

“Yes, the babes are fine.”

You settle a bit more, knowing that truth. The fact that Azriel has referred to them as babes shows you just how terrified he truly is.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers, propping his chin where your hand is holding his.

“Tired,” you offer, because you’re afraid that a joke might push him over the edge. “Can I see my babies?”

Azriel looks like he might protest. You’ve been changed and brought to a different room once the painkillers and healing drinks the nurses had forced down your throat had begun to work, but he thinks of his rowdy children and your fresh injury, he worries for you.

But you’re pleading, “Please, Love. I need to see them.” And he gets it.

Because he finds himself needing to see them as well.

“Drink some more water, tell me what happened, and I’ll get Rhys to bring them in.”

You hold his gaze, nodding finally.

Azriel helps you drink some more water, nearly a whole glass before you begin.

“I was on my way back from the mercantile,” you start, swallowing harshly as you wrack your brain for what had happened. “Just a quick trip to get some treats for the little ones,” you laugh dryly, tears welling up in your eyes. Azriel’s quick to thumb them away, caressing your cheek with his warm hand.

“I didn’t see him coming until it had already happened,” you admit shamefully. Your mate had taught you better than that and you had failed him.

Your mate sends nothing but warmth down the bond because while you may have been taken by surprise, he knows you didn’t go down without a fight.

“I didn’t understand how bad it was until after he was laying in the snow next to me and I looked at my torn coat and saw all the blood.”

You remember crying out as his blade slashed across your body and took you to your knees. You’d been able to act through the pain, kicking a foot out behind you and sweeping your attackers feet from under him.

It was easier to pry the longsword from his hands when he was gasping for air and even easier to make sure he never took another breath again.

“I don’t remember getting home,” you exhale a shaky breath, “I was just holding my side and there was so much blood Az, so much blood.”

He shushes you softly, upset with himself that he’s asked you to share this story. If he had known your attacker was dead he wouldn’t have asked and before he can try and stop you you’re already continuing.

“I was afraid to go home,” you admit, and his hand clutches yours tighter, “I didn’t want the babes to see me like this.”

Your admission hangs over the both of you, loud in the otherwise silent room.

“I’m glad you did,” Azriel’s voice is thick with emotion, “If you hadn’t and I had lost you…”

“You didn’t,” you reassure, maybe for the both of you, “Let’s not think about that.”

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to think about anything else but he nods, agreeing.

“I hid it the best I could, but you know Wren,” the thought of your oldest brings a smile to your face, “He’s so smart, that one. I told him to watch the babes for me while I went to clean up and he tried to talk to me, tried to ask me what was wrong but I just kept going, telling him that I was fine and would be out in a minute…” you trail off because you weren’t out in a minute. On the floor unconscious in a minute more like.

Azriel kisses your knuckles, lingering on your fourth finger before he answers, “He told Baz to come get me. I was talking to a commander and he came running up screaming and crying out for me. Scared me shitless I tell ya. Didn’t even have a coat on.”

Your eyes bulge and you try to sit up, distressed over your son out in the mountains without a coat, “Is he–'' your question is cut off by a hiss and Azriel’s on his feet guiding you back down onto the bed, gentle hands on your shoulders.

“He’s alright, Love. They all are. Got them all checked on while they were helping you. Not even a sniffle,” Azriel soothes. He relaxes when your shoulders droop and you settle back into the pillows.

“Thank you,” you whisper, thumb brushing across his knuckles, “I love you.”

“I love you too, (Y/N). So fucking much,” he breathes, shuddering when you caress his cheek.

You tug on him weakly, puckering your lips for a kiss that he easily ducks down for, the tension melting away from his body now that you’re awake in his arms.

“Can I see them now?” you ask as soon as you pull away. Your mate huffs playfully, already calling out to Rhys in his mind.

The door slams open, Wren and Baz racing into the room with the Inner Circle hot on their heels. Rhys is holding Zuzu, Feyre’s hugging Jax close to his chest while Cassian and Nesta each hold a babe, their own boys trailing in behind them.

Azriel shoots to his feet, catching his two oldest sons around their waists before they can launch themselves at you.

“Mommy,” Wren cries from his father’s grasp and Baz bursts out into tears at the sight, reaching over Azriel’s shoulder for you.

“Az, let them go,” you scold lightly, but caress the bond, thankful for stopping them before another injury could happen.

“Boys, you need to be gentle with mommy, okay?” Az holds each of their arms, making sure that his order has been received by each son before slowly letting them go.

They’re both on your uninjured side, Baz tumbling into your arms. He climbs up onto the bed and you hold him close, letting him cry into the crook of your shoulder, reaching out for Wren with tears in your own eyes.

“Hi baby,” you whisper, voice thick.

“Mom,” he breaks, tears spilling as he climbs up next to Baz, letting you run your fingers through his hair.

You bite your lip, holding your boys as close as you can, before looking around the room at the rest of your children, your family.

Each one is looking at you with smiles, some pained, some relieved, some teary, and you know that if something had gone wrong, that your children would be in the best of hands.

Your teary gaze slides back to your mate. He hadn’t looked away from you while you were taking everyone in, seeming to know exactly where your mind had just been. But he doesn’t want to think about that right now, all he wants is to hold you and his children as close as he can, forever and always.

Cassian hands Knox off to Azriel as he rounds the bed to your injured side, taking the spot next to you to block your injury as he gestures to his brothers and their mates to bring forward the rest of your children.

Let us know if you need any help, Rhys speaks to Azriel and the shadowsinger nods, looking at you with the babes all curled in close, hugging each other tight.

He knows they won’t leave you now, but he doesn’t care because everyone is here together, in one piece.

One big family.

#Azriel #azriel x reader #dad!azriel #daddy!azriel #azriel/reader #azriel x you #azriel/you #azsazz #azsazz next gen #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acotarxreader #acosf #acofas

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aromanticautiesworld · 2 months

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I CAME BACK FOR MORE 😭

Finn and Fern x GN!Reader headcanons where the reader is a thief/robber and eventually they learn more about them and develop a crush on them (Could it be separate for each, same scenario but different brother if you get what im saying)

Finn could be like an enemies to lovers type of eal with finn thinking the reader is a little cute from the get go and feeling conflicted with hair feelings due to the reader's being a thief, eventually becoming friends and seeing different side of the reader (yk?? i feel like im yapping and not making sense 💀)

While for fern, the reader just feels bad for him because he can't do as well as being a hero and becomes friends with him, farm keeps it a secret from finn and they eventually become friends and see a different side (yappayapayappa) :)

Give em a cute hobby like a baking or crochet

SORRY IF THIS DOENST MAKE SENSE

AWH this feels like the plot of an ep of adventure time ……

////

finn + fern/thief gn reader hcs

FINN

at firstyou guys do not like each other at all (ofc)

he gets in your way all the time. he gets calls about you from people across Ooo complaining about their missing stuff

(even ice king )

Finn is a good hero though. so he ignores that you’re kinda pretty

(he thinks he might have a type of crush at this point (people who could probably kill him if they wanted to))

so one day (abt a month into your spree)

you decide to steal from Finn’s house (not knowing that it was the fucking Guy who’d been stopping you this whole time)

and you almost get away with it (stealing his hat. it was his hat you chose to steal). almost

“YOU!! YOU’RE the one that’s been stealing from all those peeps!!”

you run escape him (again) but he stops you in front of the door.

“Put it back.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Put it back.”

“Nuh uh.”

you reach an impasse.

now at YOUR end, you reeeeally dont want to admit it but this guy is a little cute (a little. you refuse to go further) with the hair he has happening.

you do eventually put it back, faced with the prospect of staying in here any longer. glob

against any of your better judgement, you decide to stay

and investigate this weird guy

and against his better judgement, he lets you stay

now you’re both at this weird little hangout

(with your enemy)

and you tell him about you

for one, you steal for the rush. and out of habit

and for two, you crochet (this is probably why you steal so much yarn)

Finn traces his finger in circles on the ground.

“d’you think you could teach me how to crochet?”

“Pshh. You’re telling me you believed all that?”

“You were lying?”

“Nono, that was the truth. im jus’ messing with you.”

“Ok…”

“Seriously!”

“Ok!”

you smile at him.

“y’wanna meet tomorrow?”

he brushes a piece of his hair out of his face. “yeah.”

as for general hcs, i think you would start stealing things just to meet up with him

like you would think in all your time thieving you would have at least one phone

but no

you don’t enter through the door either

you will just break in. sometimes in the dead of night

Finn would dedicate himself to learning how to crochet (I wonder why. it couldn’t possibly be to impress someone)

FERN

so you first meet fern when he decides to answer the banana guard’s call and oh boy

this guy

he is not doing well at Heroing

like imagine a baby kitten. now imagine it sad

And you realize, wait a minute

This thing might not be worth it

so you check in on this poor guy. in the middle of your getaway

“dude, are you okay?”

his leg was stuck in a crack in the ground

“don’t pity me!!”

“I’m not! Just let me help you—”

“Well I’m supposed to be a hero. I shouldn’t get help from thieves.”

(he’s more telling that to himself than to you.)

You help him out anyways, of course.

He brings out his sword to your neck, you sigh and roll your eyes.

“Fine..”

You give him back what you stole

The sword is still there

You dump out all of the other objects you stole out of your bag

The sword is still there

You sigh again, taking off your shoes and gloves and shaking out the other other objects you stole.

He begins to collect them into his own bag, before asking you,

“Did I do good?”

“What?”

“Was I a good hero?”

“Oh, um. Well, anyone else (because I am extremely brave and unafraid) would probably be squealing out of fear so, yeah.”

He crosses his arms, looking down to the side.

“I don’t want people to be afraid of me…”

You step back, observing him.

“Why d’you even want to be a hero so badly?”

“Because—because….because I’m supposed to be.”

Your expression softens.

“How about I be a bad influence on you, and you take a break from heroing for a bit?”

“How?”

“Y’ever learn how to crochet?”

#sorry if this is more like story bullet points than head canons…i like writing them thws way #mariner talks #adventure time x reader #finn the human #finn x reader #adventure time #mariner writes #IT MAKES SENSE ITSOK ..#fern the human #fern x reader

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trinketbug · 8 months

Text

Thinking abt how the winter king is the way he is because he rejected the grief of mourning betty entirely. Now that he’s not part of a madness; part of a sadness. Candy Queen is the one who has to deal with that guilt now, that mind-destroying grief and heartache. You can take the pain out of the man, but you can’t make him look and act less like Betty enough that even the candy queen doesn’t see bettys personality shine through in everything Winter does. Like. Even in that state, he’s just as unsympathetic and single minded as betty ever was.

There was a point where I thought the reason he forgot betty was because he never had that moment of real clarity in being Simon again like our Simon did. But I don’t know that that’s true anymore. For whatever reason, I think it was that this version of Simon didn’t have Marcy, and by extension Finn and Jake to call for help when it happened. He was alone. So he went to princess bubblegum for help, begged her to help contact Betty so he could apologize and rid himself of this fucking agonizing guilt. But the crown started eating away at him again. And being who she is, and undoubtedly having the same experiences with Ice King she does in our timeline, Bubblegum refused to help him. Probably assuming it was some scheme of Ice King’s. And in the last moments of lucidity he had before the crown took him again…

what I’m doing thinking happened is:

[Winter king voice.] You know, princess bubblegum, getting my mind back for a moment taught me a valuable lesson. I *thought* you were my greatest enemy, when all along you were my best friend. The surge of emotion that shot through me when I saved your life taught me an even more valuable lesson - where my love for Betty lives in my brain. Goodbye, Betty!

#txt #fionna and cake spoilers #simon petrikov #winter king #what I’m saying is that grief makes us human and he rejected that part of himself and that’s why he isn’t human anymore.#he’s dissociating so hard he gave someone else DID #power move if I’m honest! can’t say I wouldn’t do the same if it were possible!

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jascurka · 7 months

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HI it's been a month but i still think abt ur "Toichiro get nightmares" comic it literally lives in my head rent free i cannot stress this enough thank u for giving me all the suzuki fam feels ever in such beautiful illustrations, Toichiro is such an interesting character like there are so many aspects of him that makes him very different & unique between all the "terrible abusive supervillain biological father" trope, he's so sentimental and silly in his motivations while being so ruthless & logical with his methods??? & it's just so obvious how he loves & cares abt Shou in his own absurd ways, it's not everyday that u get a supervillain dad checking where the heck is his son right after announcing world domination plan

Ahh thank you so much, this really makes me so happy that you enjoyed it! The Touichirou enjoyers may be few but the support and tags I get under my art make me so happy <3 I absolutely love finding fellow Toui likers that want to dig into his character more than just using him as a punching bag and for laughs (although I also enjoy that type of content sometimes as well even if I don't get half of it).

About that panel - I can't really say much about manga Touichirou because I... uuuuhhhh haven't gotten to this arc yet. I first started watching the anime and only months after it finished I picked up the manga and am slowly working my way through it. But without the context I think he might be expecitng some sort of betrayal coming from Shou at that moment, since he's not there to follow his father. And we see how things unfold later when Shou confronts him. So I think he wants Shou to admire him, to follow him and to be the one who takes his place some day as the ruler of the world. But it is what gets me in the confession arc, when he shows that he does care about his son when he shields him from the attack - even Shou is shocked to see him be this selfless.

The very reason that I like Touichirou so much is his ability to grow from his past mistakes. And we see that also happen with Teru, Minori, Koyama and Sakurai and the fellow scars and even some ultimate five members.

And don't get me started on the headcanons for this man about guilt and sadness and regret and ohh I love his character so much cause there's so many situations you could put him in! And I like to to thing that some day he reunites with his family and continues to live as just some guy and tries to be better than he used to be and in some way he's experiencing life anew and learning about the wonders of the world once his vision is no longer warped by his past delusions. But even in the past Touichirou there is so much interesting things, like the fact that he misses his wife, that he's stubborn, that he's proud and ruthless and that he's lying to himself all the time about how perfect he is and how he never once felt any inferior emotion. But he's also super silly and likes vanilla ice cream and married his wife because of her big heart and he picked the cultural tower because they served the best omurice in seasoning city and I think he's a dilf!!!!!!!!!!!

#ah it happened again #received an ask about Touichi and I turned it into an essay on why I love Touichi #toichiro tag #i cant decide how to write his name...#mp100 #answered #oh that reminds me I have toui scribbles to share!

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fxreflyes · 4 months

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ahhh I just saw you already answered, damn these time zones!! can u please tell me about the fic your most excited to write in that case???

hi bel!!!!! <333333 (i am so sorry for the v late reply, the brain fog today has been v real) the time zones are truly horrid, im so sad to be 8 hrs behind u :'(

i think i have talked abt all of my fics so far, which is making me feel like I need more wips HAHA (I do not need more) so i will talk once more abt the one i currently have my word doc open to!! (i think you already saw a post abt it im sorry!!) (summary ask here) (snippet ask here) but it's called hand in hand with the living dead and it is basically all angst. it is sirius suicide fic & he becomes a ghost & meets remus who is also a ghost!

a snippet for u!!

After a few minutes of fevered hacking, his hair lay around him in clumps. The razor clattered to the tile and Sirius was left shivering.

It was a long moment before he got to his feet.

When he met his gaze in the mirror of the motel bathroom, the hollows of his eyes carved two large shadows where his eyes should be, blood trickling from the nicks on his skull. He wiped away the blood on his cheek, and it smeared. He tried a smile, but it was all teeth, like a dog with his fangs bared.

If James could see him now.

im honestly hyperfixating on this one rn, but probably the 2 im ACTUALLY most excited about in general are my marauders clue au poor boy youre bound to die set in 1954 which i have rambled to u abt sorry 🙈 (summary ask here) and then the spinoff bloodlands which takes place in 1944 on the eastern front w reg, remus, evan & barty!! (summary ask here)

so here is a snippet from the next ch of poor boy you're bound to die under the cut!!

He would have been dead too, if not for a former Soviet guard by the name of Ivan Rosanov. Or, as he later became known, after absconding to France and assuming a new name and identity, Evan Rosier.

With a jaw that could take a punch and hair that could have rivalled the snow for pallor, Evan Rosier had had a comportment as icy as the tundra itself. It was only by the grace of some unfathomable higher entity, that Regulus happened to have fostered an odd friendship of sorts with the one man and one man alone who appeared able to crack that façade like a stick of dynamite colliding with a lake in midwinter.

It was for this reason that Regulus supposed he owed just as much credit to the incessant and unabashed flirting that his cell mate had engaged in as to the guard himself. If it hadn’t been for Barty Crouch Jr.’s dirty mouth and unflinching ability to suffer a beating, Regulus would have long since been a feast for the worms. That was if worms could survive the frigid conditions they had been in. He might have simply slowly decomposed on the ice without even serving the worthwhile purpose of being some critters tea-time snack. He supposed he was lucky that Evan had taken a shine to the way the blood looked smeared on Barty’s lips as he panted, in what even Regulus had to admit was an obscene way, as he was restrained in a chair as he was disciplined for some petty quip. The whole affair was rather sensual, and Regulus was amused and only a little surprised at Evan’s face coloring the faintest bit of red as Barty had turned to him and cooed “Do you like what you see, pretty boy?” right before getting smashed in the face by one of the Death Eaters for mouthing off, his blood and spit splattering through air.

#thank u for asking !!!!#💖💖💖💖#honestly I’m excited abt all or else I wldnt be doing this haha #bel tag #<33333 #fic asks

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makigorogoro · 8 months

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disorganized thoughts on fionna and cake eps 5 and 6

(Spoilers!!)

ok ive only seen the eps once each and im going off of memory so a lot of this is probably gonna be paraphrased and mixed up but whatever . also this post is really fucking long lol sorry

-OK FIRST OFF THESE WERE SO GOOD RAAAAAH

-obviously we are in the farmworld, not surprised but very happy!!!

-also not very surprised fionna and cake immediately went along with simon’s plan

-the whole time they were talking about where to find a crown i was like lol. simon don’t look behind you

-cake bringing fionna a dead rat was really funny

-the versucci gag or whatever was also really good

-but what made me die was fionna talking abt how she’s played a lot of post apocalyptic rpgs and then it pans over to “man who has actually lived through the apocalypse”

-was really cool to see how the farmworld has developed after what happened with ice finn, i think it’s interesting how they’re more technologically advanced since the first time an ice age happened in this world they pretty much reverted to medieval times (does that make sense. you know what i mean)

-i was SO convinced jay was farmworld finn’s little sibling so when he said dad my heart stopped

-the name jay didn’t immediately click until bonnie was revealed to be one of his other kid’s name and i was like HOLY SHIT PUHOY???

-veeeery interesting since assumingely golb destroyed/erased the pillow world

-i guess you could just chalk it up to finn would have named his kids the same thing in any universe?

-but i mean speaking of his kids GOD he got busy with huntress wizard

-i mean it has to be huntress wizard. one of them looks just like human hunter wizard

-sucks that she died though

-simon’s ship of theseus thing was so fucking funny oh my god he’s just like me fr (i started talking about the ship of theseus in one of my assignments a few days ago and i was like. is this too nerdy.)

-i haven’t really talked about farmworld finn yet. a little sad he turned out so cold (pun not intended oops 😭) because of what happened to him when he was younger

-good on him for saying simon was a damn fool or whatever for wanting to put the crown on lol

-i wish they actually had a talk though

-cake saying fionna should kiss him while knowing he’s just an alternate version of her??????? girl

-also farmworld jake still being alive was crazy

-so it did turn out the crown was destroyed in this world, i honestly wasn’t sure since the crown from the main world survived direct contact with a comet lol

-the romeo and juliet style romance going on between finn’s kid and big destiny’s kid was really good

-finn showing up with bartram lmao!!!!!

-dude i love bartram, the bit in finn the human where finn’s mom says that they have to sell the mule and then bartram’s head peaks out from the bed in the corner is unironically one of my favorite jokes in adventure time

-i kinda forgot what happens between here and the end

-so did farmworld finn fucking die????

-idk what happened there i sure hope not

-i really don’t know if we’re going to revisit these worlds in any capacity considering the amount of time left but i hope we do now!! i feel like we need to see what happens lmao

-now for ep 6

-wasn’t really expecting it to open on “fionna world” as they started calling it

-i was wondering how they were gonna balance gumball and marshall yaoi with what’s going on with the main trio

-they did it really well though i think

-i also wasn’t really expecting to be introduced to winter king right away once we got back to the main plot

-he definitely gave me weird vibes right from the start im gonna be honest lol

-blaah i don’t really remember what happens between that and the winter wonder world sequence

-so ill just talk about that. holy fuck

-every review i read before the show came out was really hyping this scene up and i get why now

-was really cool to see the beyond the grotto animation again and the song was so good it’s still stuck in my head

-but the moment the winter king said he overcame the crown with sheer will i was like. um. im calling bs

-i was just thinking however it did happen though i have a bad feeling about! felt really bad for simon and when he said that he sucked i was like. oh no ☹️ dude

-the moment i saw little ice marcy pretty much cemented it for me i was like oh no something fucked up is happening here. tbh i still can’t really figure out what happened with that but given what the winter king said about making an ice betty. uhhhhhhhhhh

-OH YEAH cake once again saying simon and the winter king should kiss . GIRL WHAT ARE YOU ON

-i looooved crazy pb

-i remember when people were saying she was a marcy pb child lmao.

-simon saying that he wanted to “fix her” while the winter king just wanted to kill her was really interesting. im trying to figure out what it means lol. like we know that simon wants to be the ice king again but also now knowing he would want to fix and save someone from that madness…idk

-her song was really good

-her playing those ominous notes on her keyboard made me laugh

-i haven’t really talked about gumball (im not calling him gary im sorry) and marshall. i thought they were really cute!!! could definitely see marcy and pb meeting in a similar way

-the juxtaposition between gumball talking about his creations to fionna fighting the fucked up versions of them was really cool

-i hope gumball doesn’t take what the lemoncarbs said to heart . they’re just like that

-ok so. I was honestly more shocked that fionna kissed (a version of) simon than him disintegrating seconds after lmaooooo

-i have to wonder why he immediately died here when in betty (the episode) he was dying relatively slowly without the crown’s magic

-ive been writing down a bunch of crack theories and the first thing ive gotten right was the winter king transferring his craziness to pb lol lets goooo

-i was thinking that simon might’ve transferred it himself but then i was like nooo he wouldn’t do that….apparently he would do that

-idk despite how he seemed i think the winter king was still a little insane in the membrane.

-maybe the crown was still influencing him in some way? and that’s the message here? idk

-i can’t believe bi fionna is real

-back to gumball and marshall. gumball describing slumber party panic……oh my jod 🥺🥺🥺

-the baby world was so cute

-“and i’ll be cursed the right way” simon do you fucking hear yourself

Ok that’s definitely not all i have to say but this post is long enough lmao ,, god this show is SO GOOD i can’t believe it’s real. ok that’s all

#adventure time #fionna and cake #Fionna and cake spoilers

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brokendave · 2 years

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Concept based off Daylight by Maroon 5: David and reader r childhood friends nd high school sweethearts. As time goes by David gains fame nd the reader has to go to college. So David has to go to LA the next day nd the reader to campus, but they spend tht last night together reminiscing abt everything nd crying nd being emotional. “nd when the daylight comes ill have to go, but tonight im gonna hold you so close. Cause in the daylight we’ll be on our own. But tonight i need to hold you so close

David was laying in the sand, his feet buried so deep he hoped that they’d cement there and he could never leave. When YN approached, he turned his head to look at her. “Finally, you showed.”

“Of course I showed,” she said, plopping down next to him. She tried to sound cheerful, but really, she was sad. “You think I’d blow off our last date?”

“Last date?” David sounded offended. As if you truly thought he’d never take you on a date again. “You know I will always take you on dates.”

“Not when you’re in California and I’m in Boston,” she sheepishly remind him. David’s eye went dark as he looked over at the lake. They grew up on this lake. Boat parties with friends they barely knew. Bonfires for the Fourth of July. It was where David kissed her for the first time. A few miles down, where the pier meets the water.

She had only ever seen him as her friend David. Nothing more and certainly nothing less but David always knew there was more. From the time they were pre-teens, making tie dye t-shirts in the backyard, he knew she was the one.

“I’ll buy you tickets to come see me,” he offered. She didn’t know when he got famous. It seemed to happen overnight. One day, he was just David and the next he was David Dobrik and moving to LA and everyone wanted him. He wanted no one but her. “And then I’ll take you on a huge date. One so big and grand, you can’t help but fall back in love with me.”

“You think I’m gonna fall out of love with you?” She asked. Her knees were wrapped in her arms, pulling too tight against her chest like maybe she was going to float away with the waves. David grabbed one of her hands and kissed the back of her palm, almost as if he was saying yes. “I will never fall out of love with you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Even when you’ve made a million friends, better friends, and no longer care for my nonsense jokes and idiotic behavior?” He was baiting her now. Waiting for her to say something wrong but she just shook her head. “Even when you forget my name?”

“I’d never forget you.”

His face would forever be etched in her mind. His laugh would forever be in her ear drums and his fingertips would forever be plastered to her skin. She could never forget him. She could never not love him.

He was the first boy she ever loved and she was certain he would be the last. Who else would know her favorite ice cream and leave a pint outside of her door for when she got home from work? Who else would know exactly what her facial expressions meant when she was reading a book? Who else would love her even when she was at her worst? It was 15 years in the making. Their love. And it had only lasted 15 months.

“You can come to school in California, you know,” he had suggested for the millionth time this month alone. It was too late. Yn had already turned in her payments and made her schedule. Frankly, she barely considered it. She and David decided a while ago that this was going to be your last good night. And in the morning, she’d leave for the airport and never look back. Maybe she’d visit him. Maybe she wouldn’t. Either way, they owed it to each other.

Instead of talking, they sat in the sand and watched the waves crash on the shore. They watched the sun set and the stars come out and when it got too chilly, David gave her his jacket. “Wanna get ice cream?” He asked as she shivered.

“Are you crazy?” She laughed but David nodded and stood up, letting the sand release him. He brought her to her favorite ice cream shop and got her her favorite flavor. Triple scoop. He tried to steal licks off her cone but she kept it away from him, laughing hysterically as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer to him. When she was finished, she pushed it into his nose.

“Not fair!” He exclaimed. “You wasted the ice cream!” Yn laughed and David let the ice cream fall into the trash as he pulled her into his chest and kissed her. The ice cream spread on her face but she didn’t care because she wanted to kiss her boyfriend. She wanted to kiss him until she couldn’t breathe.

They rented bikes and rode around town, weaving in and out of traffic and barely stopping at red lights. He picked her a flower out of someone’s garden and she smelled it, smiling behind their petals so he wouldn’t see. “Remember the first I got you flowers?”

She did remember. He couldn’t figure out what kind she wanted so he ended up getting her a bouquet of all of them. She had flowers all over the house. “After knowing you my whole life, I didn’t know what your favorite flowers were.”

“You know now,” she said. She didn’t care that he didn’t know her favorite flowers. That was the beauty of their relationship. They were never done learning about each other.

She didn’t want to cry. She told herself she would not cry tonight. She didn’t want her last memories to be of them crying and being sad but how could she not cry when he was looking at her that way and the sky had too many stars in them and the grass tickled the back of her legs.

“What are you thinking?” David asked. He was laying on his back, his hands folded on his stomach and he looked over at her. She was too busy counting the stars to know what she was thinking.

“That I never want these stars to turn into clouds.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” he tried to joke. She didn’t laugh. “I get what you mean.”

“Everything is perfect when the sun goes down. Everything is perfect now. We can pretend that I’m not going away and you’re not moving and that we’re gonna be together forever.” She spewed. That’s what she was thinking as she counted the stars. That he was her forever and she was leaving it behind.

“We are gonna be together forever. Just not right now,” he told her. Maybe that was true. Maybe she needed to go off on her own to find out who she really was and he needed to do his own thing and hopefully he was huge and successful, he wouldn’t forget about her. Maybe, they’d end up in the same city again.

“Can we just sit here until the sun comes up?” She asked. David nodded, wrapped his arms around her and that’s when she cried. She cried and cried and he smoothed down her hair and shushed her and she couldn’t tell but he was crying, too. But they did. They sat there until the sun came up.

#reader insert #David dobrik #David dobrik one shot #David dobrik imagine #David dobrik blurb #David dobrik x reader

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melis-writes · 2 years

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we need a continuation to the afermath of Victoria finding out about Apollonia's pregnancy. She gets really sad and heartbroken after what Michael told her, with the postpartum homones only spiking it. She's falling asleep in the twins nursery and barely eating anything. After being questioned abt it, she lets it all out in a heartfelt conversation with her mother-in-law, that is heard by Michael.

"I love him so much...and it hurts, Mama. Why did he need to keep that from me? What if I had gotten married and pregnant before and kept it from him?"

"Maybe I feel jealous that she was his first love. She knew a Michael that I'll never know"

Oh my God, this prompt!! 😭💔 And we already know it’s canon too based on what happened in the main chapters of the fic. Honestly, my heart feels for Victoria. Michael needs to be more honest and transparent with her, all she wants to do is know her husband better, have him open up to her, etc. 🥺 She’s very understanding, but in this prompt/scenario, Michael definitely isn’t… Maybe a part 3 with Carmela confronting her son about breaking her daughter-in-law’s heart soon…?! 👀

“You know how serious it would be if it impacted Miss Ferrari, you know that, right? She doesn’t know you’re a widower.”

Words of what would otherwise be wisdom from Vito to his youngest son Michael on the day you were engagement to him had Michael actually listened to prevent the endless tears streaming down your face right this moment.

“And she doesn’t have to know.”

You slam the door shut to the bathroom down the hallway of the second floor just outside you and Michael’s bedroom—making sure the door is locked behind you.

Hiccupping through your sobs, you’re quick to lean over the sink—feeling the weakness in your knees growing as you turn on the tap for cold water at full blast, mostly to muffle out your crying to anyone who may be in the hallway.

“Be honest and transparent with the woman of your life, Michael.”

You swallow down the lump in your throat, taking shaky breaths and attempting to calm yourself down as you begin to splash ice cold water over your splotchy, reddened face.

“She doesn’t deserve to be caught up in the strings of the past, if there are any. How do you feel about her?”

‘Apollonia Corleone. Before me, it wasn’t even her. It was Kay, and then it was her, wasn’t it?’ Just the mere thought of Apollonia carrying Michael’s last name sends sparks of jealousy through you—a jealousy that you think you shouldn’t be experiencing and one that makes you feel inadequate and even worse.

“I am being honest and forthcoming with you Victoria, just like I promised.”

‘Why does he lie to me?’ You hiccup again, this time clasping a hand over your mouth as you can’t stop yourself from sobbing even harder than you were before. ‘Why? I would never lie to him about anything—big or small. Never. Why does he keep things from me?’

“If I don’t tell you every miniscule piece of irrelevant information regarding anything, then I’m a ‘liar’, then I ‘keep things away from you’, right?”

‘I don’t know who Michael Corleone was before he met me.’ You force yourself to wash off your face quickly, no longer completely aware if what’s dripping down your face and cheeks is the water from the sink or your own tears anymore. ‘I can never know. That man is gone, I know, but I just wish… I wish I could reach out to him just a little bit—I wish I could understand what’s gone.’

You take deep breaths, attempting to calm yourself down as you close your eyes. You continue to let the cold water wash over you, relieving how hot your face has gotten from sobbing until you no longer feel tears escaping your eyes.

‘First it was a marriage kept from me—one I still can’t understand why I wasn’t told. Everyone else knew, but not me?’ You know when it comes to anything with Michael, the heartache inside of you will haunt you like none other unless you find closure, comfort or reassurance—something you know you’re not going to get out of Michael now.

‘Would he have ever told me if I didn’t find those photographs?’ You turn off the tap, staring at your wet face in the mirror; you appear distraught, heartbroken, but at least not as if you’ve been crying your eyes out anymore. ‘Would I ever have a chance to know one way or another?’

You clear your throat, leaning your head down towards the sink and practice taking in deep breaths again until you no longer feel your throat tightening or hear any shaky breaths.

‘I don’t understand. Why keep it from me? That’s why I’m upset—because I’ve been lied to when I know I would never do the same. If he had just told me before…’ Feeling yourself grow steady and calm, you back away from the sink and gently wipe off your face with the nearby towel, at least looking semi-presentable and feeling alright enough to step out of the bathroom.

‘I would have understood. I would have felt horrible Michael went through something like that.’ You run your hands through your hair, smoothening out any stray or frizzy strands before gazing at yourself glumly in the mirror. ‘If he just told me, I would be able to understand everything he went through… I would never judge Michael. I love him too much—so much.’

You close your eyes once again, listening intently to make out any sounds or footsteps in the hallway but hear nothing.

‘I wish you wouldn’t lie to me so much, Michael.’ All you want to do when you open your eyes again is feel Michael’s warm and loving embrace come up from behind you—give you a kiss on the cheek, apologize and hold you in his arms. ‘I wish you wouldn’t keep things from me.’

But when you open your eyes, he’s not there. You’re alone in the bathroom and the only sound you can faintly hear is a pair of footsteps already long gone down the spiral staircase.

‘I wish I didn’t have to find out everything in the form of literal blackmail.’ Pulling yourself together amidst the intense postpartum hormones only spiking up how emotional you’ve been since you gave birth to the twins, you glance at your watch to read the time; 7:12 PM.

‘Why does it hurt?’ You sniffle, forcing back any further tears as you unlock the bathroom door and take a step out into the hallway. ‘My heart hurts so much.’

As you walk closer towards the staircase, you can’t make out any sound of Michael but know at this hour you’d usually be spending dinner at the family estate altogether—something you know you won’t be attending tonight, not like this.

‘I just want to be alone right now with my babies…’ You move towards the nursery, knowing the nanny, Esther, was just here shortly before you had your fight with Michael putting the twins to sleep.

Judging on the fact you can’t hear the twins and that Esther isn’t in the nursery anymore, you already know the babies are fast asleep.

‘My babies.’ You feel your heart swell up in your chest as you push open the nursery door, seeing Niccolo and Verona across from each other in separate cribs, sleeping soundly. ‘My little babies.’

‘Mama’s going to stay with you two for a little while longer…’ Unbeknownst to you, you’ve kept the nursery door ajar as you take a seat on the beige, velvet chaise lounge in the corner of the room. ‘And if you awake, I’ll still be here.’

It’s where you’ve always comfortably sat and laid down on when the twins crawled around on the carpet to play with their toys or when you had back pain while breastfeeding—now practically serving as a place you can watch over the twins while you take some time to yourself.

‘I don’t want to be near or with anyone else, just my babies…’ You grab the neatly folded blanket off the chaise lounge and unravel it, snuggling it over yourself as you curl up on your seat.

With your head already pounding from sobbing, your eyes weak and little to no energy left inside of you or your voice from fighting with Michael, you give into the sense of restlessness that washes over you.

You let your eyes shut and your breathing grow soft, just wishing to rest and sleep for a while to block out the rest of the world around you and relax.

You don’t want to think about Michael, you don’t want to remember anything consisting of your fight—all you want to do is feel at peace near the twins for a little while longer even if your heart still aches like none other.

As you drift asleep, gaining a momentary peace of mind in the nursery, thirty minutes pass before Michael steps out of his office.

Straightening out his tie and knowing dinner will be served within the hour, Michael makes his way out to the living room—expecting to see you there or at least near the kitchen only to find a rather empty house.

Raising his brow, Michael neither hears any sound of you upstairs or downstairs, and the front door still locked signalling you haven’t left the house for dinner yet either.

Michael walks up the staircase—his curiosity beginning to grow at your whereabouts but at the same time he too knows with no apologies said or truly an ‘end’ to the fight you two had where you rushed off in tears, Michael doesn’t expect you to be too forgiving or approachable.

Instead when Michael gets upstairs, he also finds the bedroom empty. Just as he’s about to go towards the study, Michael stops when he notices the nursery door is ajar rather than fully open as it should be.

With the evening setting in, the nursery’s grown dark and from where Michael can stand, he can make out the sky from the window with the lights turned off—telling him that the twins are both asleep and someone else is inside too.

Taking a peek in, Michael notices you asleep on the chaise lounge inbetween both Niccolo and Verona’s cribs.

You sleep just as soundly as the twins do, utterly exhausted from not just the emotional toll your fight with Michael took out on you, but also your continuing recovery from birth and having to raise two newborn babies with a major lifestyle change.

Michael glances at the twins, hearing them and you breathing softy in sleep as he comes to quietly approach you.

Michael can hardly make out much of your figure from the chaise lounge being in what would be the darkest corner of the room at night, but stops right before you to lean down and tuck the blanket over your shoulders as you sleep on your side.

The rotating security light on the compound grounds spins to momentarily flash some light inside the nursery as the curtains aren’t pulled back.

Your face is illuminated to Michael for just a second, but enough to show you’ve been crying up until you came to nap up here—something Michael knows you don’t regularly do at all unless you’re utterly exhausted.

For a minute there as the light continues rotating and reflecting through, Michael admires his wife, still feeling nothing but absolute love and respect to you even if they were the last things he showed to you during your fight earlier.

Michael lets out a soft sigh, making sure the blanket covers you fully and keeps you warm.

He then turns the night light on by the twins’ dresser before pulling back the curtains—making sure to do everything quietly as not to wake or stir the three of you from sleep.

The twins don’t awaken and neither do you as Michael makes his way out now to get to the family estate—having not bothered to wake you to accompany him to dinner with the family.

“Hi, honey.” Mama Corleone’s voice chimes out as she notices Michael walking towards the dining room in the central family estate. “Dinner’s just about ready. Victoria must be starving.”

“Victoria?” Michael raises a brow, stopping by the kitchen.

“Mhmm.” Carmela lets out a sigh, “she didn’t eat a thing during lunch—I still have her full plate right here. I’m hoping she has more of an appetite tonight, right, Victoria?”

Carmela moves back to look outside the kitchen, expecting you to be by Michael’s side which only confuses her further to see just her son there with nobody else. “Oh. Where is she?”

“She’s with the twins.” Michael replies plainly, “she won’t be here for dinner.”

“She’s still not hungry? Maybe little Niccolo and Verona are really keeping her up these days.” Carmela frowns. “Connie tells me she hasn’t eaten all day—” but before Carmela can even finish her sentence, Michael’s gone into the dining room already.

Michael doesn’t want to give away in any shape or form that the two of you have fought—to him it’s between the two of you alone and the last thing he needs is his own mother questioning your absence by his side and Michael’s lack of answers.

In truth, Michael still has nothing to say to you, but he doesn’t know what you’ll have to say to him when you awaken.

“She’s in the nursery room with the twins,” from Michael is repeated once more at the dining table as dinner is served, and no further questions are asked about your absence.

Connie and Sandra remain especially quiet, knowing the true reason behind why you’re not at the dining table with everyone else, but the looks on their faces give it away to both Michael who knows the obvious, but also Mama Corleone.

After dinner with the family, Mama Corleone cleans up with Sandra, Connie and Theresa as usual, making normal conversation as always.

Mama Corleone hides her concern, noticing Michael’s the first to leave as he promptly makes his way to the courtyard of his and your estate to relax.

Once the kitchen and dining room are spotless and the chores for tonight are finished marking two hours past, Carmela no longer accepts the excuse that you’re “just in the nursery” and enters your estate.

Just as Mama Corleone expected it to be, the first floor of your estate is completely empty and left to the darkness of the night setting in.

As Carmela glances up to the top of the spiral staircase, she makes out a faint glowing light that comes only from the nursery—where she’s headed next.

Carmela’s aware Michael’s out in the courtyard smoking by himself now after dinner while you’re upstairs and alone with the twins.

Just as Mama Corleone reaches the door of the nursery, she hears the faint sounds of Verona and Niccolo cooing happily inside.

Carmela slowly pushes the door of the nursery open as not to barge in and surprise you, and finds you sitting at the very edge of the chaise lounge with a plush carpet set out for the babies who crawl on it under your supervision with their toys.

“Victoria.” Mama Corleone can’t help but smile at the sight of you spending time with the little babies. “There you are.”

“Hi, mama.” You speak softly, your voice feeling a little hoarse and weak. “How’d you know I was up here?”

“How did I know?” Carmela repeats, shaking her head as she closes the nursery door shut behind her. “More like—how did any of us know? Michael told me, but I would have expected it myself since you missed dinner.”

“Michael told you?” You murmur as if it stings to say his name.

“Mhmm.” Carmela notices the look of sadness crossing your face as she approaches the window just above the twins’ dresser—pulling back the curtains a bit and opening up the window for some fresh air.

“Honey,” Carmela sighs, facing you. “You hadn’t eaten a thing at lunch and you missed dinner. All I could think about was coming up to see you here as soon as I could.”

Even though the nursery looks down directly at the courtyard, it’s unbeknownst to you and Mama Corleone that Michael can hear your conversation with her very clearly.

“I’m not hungry, mama.” You admit, your voice cracking. “I’m just not. I have no appetite.”

“But you can’t tell me it’s because of these two.” Carmela gestures to the twins, sitting across from them on the carpet, cross-legged. “I know it’s something else that’s bothering you. Sandra and Connie had that guilty look on their faces but they’re not up here with you now.”

“It really has nothing to do with them,” you sniffle, raking a hand through your hair. “It would make no sense for them to get involved, mama.”

“So something did happen.” Carmela points out. “It’s very unlike you to miss dinner, let alone being holed up in here—with or without the twins. I know something’s upset you, Victoria. I can see it all over your face, darling.”

“I don’t know how to explain it.” You swallow hard. “Something happened then, something happened now. I’m upset over something that happened over three years ago that shouldn’t make me react like this—it shouldn’t hurt me, but it does. I hate myself for it—I don’t want to be this way, but I don’t want to be a burden for everyone looking at my face and thinking ‘something’s wrong with Victoria’ when we should all be enjoying dinner instead.”

“While you fall asleep alone in the nursery and eat nothing?” Carmela frowns. “It doesn’t matter to me what’s upset you or how long ago it happened—if it hurts, it hurts. You obviously didn’t want Sandra or Connie’s presence, so I can only imagine what’s been bothering you like this. Please, talk to me, honey. I want to help you.”

You gaze up at your mother-in-law for a moment, taking a deep breath before your expression twists and the tears start flowing all over again. “It’s Michael, mama. I fought with Michael.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Carmela pouts, handing Niccolò his toy that he accidentally threw out of his reach. “I could have guessed. He wasn’t exactly looking overjoyed himself tonight. What happened, honey? You can let it all out on me, I want to listen.”

You shrug your shoulders weakly, letting Verona hold your finger with her entire hand. “It didn’t even exactly start out as an argument, mama. I was having lunch with Connie, Sandra and Deanna like any other time and they began talking… You know, about motherhood, the twins, and Deanna if she would ever have children with Fredo—” you notice Carmela grimace which makes you smile a bit—“and then somehow the conversation went over to Michael. How he wanted to be a father, how we conceived the twins so soon. The girls assumed it was because Michael suddenly found himself in the family business after they took an attempt on Papa’s life, and then of course Sicily was mentioned.”

“Ah, I see.” Carmela nods, listening to you.

“I know Deanna doesn’t know much at all, but she was wondering if that girl really died the way she did—blown to bits in Michael’s car, and so we said ‘yes’ and answered her. Connie then spoke as if everyone had already known that at the time, Michael’s first wife—” You feel your bottom lip trembling, “was also pregnant with his child at the time of her death.”

Carmela’s eyes widen, not in shock of the revelation but rather you hadn’t known about the pregnancy to begin with. “Just how much has Michael told you about his previous marriage, Victoria?”

“You know, mama.” You speak throughout your tears, “when we fought about two weeks ago over it. Just that much. Nothing until I f-found those photographs Fredo put in my nursery bag of the two at their wedding and…”

You squeeze your eyes shut, sobbing, which attracts the attention of the twins. “A-and I had to yell at him, mama! I had to scream and fight and make a scene just to get answers out of my own husband who should have been forthcoming and honest with me from the start! It wasn’t even u-until the fight spiralled out of c-control that he answered me at all.”

“Oh, Victoria…” Mama Corleone scoots over to your side, placing a reassuring hand over your shoulder. “I know honey, I know. I know how much that took a toll on you—you remember you were just as heartbroken then as you are now telling me all about it.”

“Yeah.” You hiccup, looking up at Mama Corleone with tear-filled eyes. “I thought I was being cheated on, mama. I thought I was the other woman and somehow, somebody knew and they wanted me to see those photographs to show I was the ‘other woman’ in New York while Michael had a wife in Sicily.”

“But we know that wasn’t true, darling.” Mama Corleone speaks to you in a soothing tone. “I can completely understand how you came to that conclusion—I would have to.”

“He s-sat there—” anger begins to grow in your expression, “and told me he was going to be honest with me about everything. About this Apollonia girl, about what really happened and then he lied to me, mama. He lied to me again!”

You wail. “He kept the pregnancy from me after saying he told me the whole truth—he said he would never lie or hold things back from me again—that he wanted to be transparent and forthcoming always but he lied!”

Carmela pulls you into a warm hug, rubbing your back in lazy circles as you sob uncontrollably over her shoulder. “Oh, sweetheart. I see now. He purposefully didn’t tell you she was pregnant either. To him, it must not have mattered.”

“R-retracting things is lying too.” You hiccup throughout your sobs, “it’s not like I would have reacted any other way if he also told me. I thought that was the whole truth! Why am I finding out things about my husband from my sisters when I should know myself? How is that fair?”

“It’s not.” Carmela frowns, growing grievously disappointed in her youngest son. “There is no excuse and it’s simply not fair. I can’t understand why he wouldn’t tell you either.”

“Doesn’t he know me b-by now, mama?” You slowly pull back, feeling your hands shake as Niccolo begins to crawl over your thigh. “We’ve been together almost a year and…and he doesn’t trust me, does he?”

“Victoria, please.” Mama Corleone helps Niccolo up on you lap gently. “Don’t say these things. Michael loves you, he admires you and he trusts you. Yes, none of this makes sense as to why he would hold back such information from you and he’s definitely not in the right at all. I completely blame him for doing this to you—look at you. Oh, it pains me.”

Carmela glances down at the twins. “Two little babies, just gave birth not too long ago and you don’t need this kind of stress either.”

“I would have understood, mama.” You attempt to calm down your breathing to no avail. “Because I know what h-happened to Michael was horrible. I wouldn’t have reacted poorly if he told me e-everything before. So… Why did he keep that from me? I would never do that to him, mama. I’ve never lied to Michael, I wouldn’t dream of doing so because I love him! I-I love him, I love him so much and it…” You look down at your babies, snuggling them both up on your lap. “And it hurts, mama, it hurts.”

Your glassy eyes meet with Carmela’s. “What if it was the o-other way around? If I had gotten married before in the past and was pregnant, then kept it from him? Now he just tells me I’m jealous. Refuses to apologize for lying and that h-he’s in the wrong—says it doesn’t matter but it matters to me. It matters to me…”

“Jealous?” Mama Corleone raises her brow. “Even so, honey, that’s completely normal to feel. Wouldn’t any other woman feel that way if their husbands kept things about former lovers from them? It all seems a bit suspicious, doesn’t it?”

“I-it does.” You agree. “B-but I won’t deny what he said. I am jealous. There, I said it!” You hug the twins gently over your lap. “M-maybe I am jealous because she was his first love—not me.” Your voice wavers, giving out.

“I j-just wanted my husband to open up to me, to know I care so much about him and will never judge him for his past—no matter what. I do the same for him… I just expected it in return and it seems that was wrong for me to do because now I’ve just gone and upset him too. H-he’s so secretive about it that I know now to myself he’ll always love her more than he loves me. She knew the old Michael, the one in those photographs who smiled and was happy… She knew and was married to a Michael that I’ll never know—a Michael even he doesn’t want me to know. Never…”

#godfather au #prompts #Michael corleone #Michael corleone x reader #Michael corleone fanfic #moth to flame fic #moth to flame fanfic #michael corleone x oc #godfather x reader #canon

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