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florencemtrash · 3 months

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Sixteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Lucien Vanserra could kill me and I would be honored. Cannon typical violence. Some angst. Lots of fun

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Lucien stood in disbelief, mouth opening and closing. Words stuck in his throat.

You knew as his eyes roamed over your features that he was hunting for some mark of Helion’s that you’d inherited, whether it be the set of your eyes, the curve of your jaw, the slope of your nose, or even the tilt of your sharp ears. But he came up empty. Whatever features you did share with Helion could have easily been shared by two strangers. It was how you’d gotten away with working with him at the Day Court and attending balls by his side.

But there were some things that went deeper than skin and bones. He could barely make it out in the hum of your power and the faint, charming glow in your eyes. It was something that spoke of warmth and sparkling intellect. A sliver of the sun given form.

You were Helion’s daughter.

You were… you were his sister.

You cleared your throat and looked away. “I understand this must be a surprise. Perhaps not the kind of surprise you were hoping for.”

“You’re my sister,” Lucien finally breathed out, and the wind, so harsh and biting before, ceased.

“Half-sister… technically.”

“I don’t go by halves.”

The sharp, sudden rush of cold air into your lungs had you shivering. Lucien noticed and without thinking he reached out with his power, wrapping heat around your body until you may as well have been perched in front of a roaring fire. His magic smelled like woodsmoke and balsam.

“You’re my sister.” He repeated the phrase a few more times, finding it more believable with each swirl of the words around his tongue.

Elain had known this was coming and had given him a cryptic warning, but that did nothing to lessen the excitement spreading in his chest with each passing second.

You watched him wearily, hands clasped over your body and eyes furrowed, like you couldn’t tell if he was upset. Which was ridiculous. How could Lucien ever be upset by this?

“You’re my sister!”

A sharp laugh exited his body that grew and grew until you felt like you were floating on the waves of his happiness. He rushed forward, hoisting you in the air and spinning you around like you weighed nothing. Wind rushed past your ears as the world blurred.

He gently deposited you back on solid ground.

“How old are you? How long have you known about Helion? Where have you been all this time?” He asked the questions in rapid succession, heart hammering away in his chest.

He had a sister. A sister.

“I’m three hundred and forty-three.”

He smiled. He’d always wanted a younger sibling. A younger sister to be exact that he could teach to fight and hunt and ride with more support than he’d ever been afforded.

“I’ve known about Helion since I was little.” Lucien’s smile slipped at that revelation. “And I’ve been in the Day Court in one of the athenaeums. It was my home up until the point where Koschei burned down my house and I got saddled with Beth’s book. I’ve been here ever since. Although I never expected for any of this—” You gestured vaguely at the House, the sky, at Lucien, “to happen. Not that I’m upset!” You added quickly.

“What was it like? Growing up in the Day Court?” He looked you up and down again, searching for scars or broken bones that had never healed right. But from what he could tell, you were whole.

He clenched his fists tightly until you answered.

“It was safe. Lonely, but safe.”

“Good.” He breathed out in relief. “Good.”

Azriel watched everything from the deck that wrapped around the back of the house. The wind carried the tang of salt, opening his lungs and easing the pain in his chest that wrapped around him like a vice. He kept his wings pulled in tight and hands clasped behind his back. He was a slice in the fabric of the universe, unmoving and still.

And he missed you. Gods did he miss you.

“We shouldn’t stand so close,” Azriel murmured.

His voice was ragged, filled with more gravel than the walkway that snaked through Elain’s garden. Weighed down with secrets that felt more like anvils.

Elain dropped the empty bucket onto the deck followed by the clang of her spade. The shovel lay discarded in the field, the ground marked by neat lines of overturned earth. She cupped her hands and blew into them, breathing life back into her stiff fingers.

Twenty minutes ago he’d seen you run beneath his window, racing towards the Sidra with your robes hiked up to your knees so you could try and keep up with Lucien’s long strides as he pulled you along by your hand, red hair streaming behind him like a bundle of ribbons.

You’d been calling out for him to slow down, your voice loud and breathless.

And after everything that had happened, the things he’d seen, he couldn’t stop himself from walking down to the deck to watch you.

Now you stood at the water’s edge with your hands outstretched, dutifully holding onto every stone that Lucien plucked from the river. Your head tipped to the side in curiosity.

His childhood in Autumn had not been kind, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been happy moments sprinkled in amongst the sorrow. There in the woods with bejeweled treetops and diamond glass rivers he’d learned how to swim and fish and hunt. He’d wrestled with his brothers, fallen in love, and gained the confidence and freedom to eventually travel the Courts and make his own way in the world.

But you’d been lonely your whole life. Trapped indoors with nothing but your books for company. You’d never learned how to swim. You’d never dug through the soil for slimy worms to go fishing. You’d never fallen asleep beneath a glittering sky, fire smoke curling in the air and the taste of chestnuts lingering on your tongue and filling your belly.

It had been a different kind of sorrow, but no less real.

Lucien aimed to change some of that. Your mere presence beside him, as hesitant as it was, filled him with a happiness he couldn’t name.

He had his trousers rolled up to his thighs revealing powerful legs and freckled, caramel-brown skin. He didn’t mind the cold waters rolling over his hands as he tracked the riverbed for the smoothest, flattest stones. Every time he looked back you were either watching him or examining each stone with narrowed eyes like you’d find some algorithm carved into their edges that would tell you what made them so special for the task at hand.

Azriel couldn’t hear what you two were saying, and he didn’t send his shadows out to investigate, but soon you were tugging off your boots, then your socks, and tying the long length of your robes around your waist. You gingerly dipped your toes into the river and immediately leapt back.

Lucien’s laugh rolled over the earth, full of warmth and joy. He was grinning so wide Azriel could see the whites of his teeth and his shaking shoulders.

Inch by inch you walked into the river up to your calves and Lucien dunked his cupped hands into the cold water.

“Don’t you dare! Lucien!”

Then you were shaking your head, slapping Lucien’s hands away with a shout when he tossed the water at your face, and threatening to launch the black stones back into the river for him to fetch. Your toes were already starting to go numb.

Azriel’s heart gave a painful lurch, even as he smiled softly at the sight of you.

“I don’t… I don’t want to give them the wrong idea.” Azriel swallowed and turned his gaze down to where a plump sparrow was digging around in the grasses.

Elain ignored him, dropping her arms onto the wooden railing and staring out. She let out a lovely, longing sigh and Azriel just knew she was strumming the bond within her chest to feel Lucien on the other side.

The red-haired male looked up to meet her gaze and smiled softly. You also looked up, and then immediately looked away with rosy cheeks.

“Lucien knows where I stand. He… he’s finally beginning to trust me again.”

He’d been so eager to give her his heart the first time around, and she’d crushed it beneath her dainty shoes, too angry at the life that had been torn away to look at the one she’d been given. This time around she was determined to earn Lucien’s love, no matter how easy he made it for her. No matter how many times he told her it wasn’t something that had ever needed to be earned.

“It took some time to gain that back.” She shifted. “But then again, we were lucky. We knew what we were to each other. You still haven’t told Y/n you’re mates.”

“You know about that?”

Elain rolled her eyes as if the answer were obvious, because it was.

“I don’t think I can tell her, Elain.”

“And why not?”

Azriel hesitated.

Here was a truth he hadn’t been able to express to his brothers — the truth they didn’t understand: They were good, decent males, and when it had come to their mating bonds they’d treated them with the respect they deserved. They’d been patient. They’d never tried to force a hand that wasn’t theirs.

But Azriel was… wrong. In so many ways he was wrong.

He either waited too long or he moved without thinking. He fell into obsession like a starling with clipped wings. He scrounged for scraps of affection where he wasn’t supposed to and brooded when it inevitably blew up in his face. He’d been trying to take his time with you. He’d been trying to do it right. He was…

He was already in love with you.

He’d been in love with you for some time now.

Elain smiled, still staring towards the river.

She had loved Azriel once. Not in the way she loved Lucien and not in a way that had been good for them, but still it had been love of some kind. She could feel the waves rolling off his body as he came to his quiet realization, and it felt very different from the way he’d felt about her and very similar to the way she felt about Lucien.

“I love her, Elain.” He whispered the words like they were fragile as spun sugar, ready to dissolve the moment they left his lips.

“She’ll say yes to the bond. I’ve seen it.”

Azriel let out a broken, strangled noise and looked at Elain, begging for more. “Even after—”

“Yes. Even after what that boy made you do. Even after what she learned when she touched your hand.” She looked down at Azriel’s hands, leather gloves worn and supple. She gave them a squeeze. “A year ago I had a vision of a white bird flying out of the sun with a golden ribbon tied to one of its feathers. Its wings were dipped in ink so she could leave a trail along the ground for a beast of shadow to follow.”

Azriel went still as death. “And then what happened?”

Elain looked up at him, eyes glittering. “She flew to the base of a mountain, laid down, and has been waiting ever since. She’s been waiting for you. For someone who understands what it means to be lonely and what it’s like to hope for more.”

And Azriel did exactly that. He hoped for more.

More time with you. More unrestrained touches. More midnight conversations until your eyes were threatening to shut.

Something changed then. Elain’s brown, doe eyes turned misty and flat. Her voice dropped and the hand she reached out to grab hold of his arm was cold as ice.

“You need to be careful, Az,” she warned. “Don’t let her go into the mirror. She may not come out.” She clawed at his arms. “Az, you need to be careful. The mirror…”

He gripped her shoulders, stabilizing her as she swayed on her feet.

“Elain, what—” But her vision was already gone. No matter how hard she tried to hold on it was like trying to keep water in a cracked cup.

Lucien kept his arm perfectly parallel with the earth, drew back, and snapped his wrist at the last second. The stone flew out over the glassy river and kept kissing the surface in weakening arches before it was eventually swallowed up in a dollop of salt.

“Eight.”

Lucien looked at you incredulously. “I counted nine.”

“Eight skips,” you argued. “Males always overestimate.”

“And what experience do you have with males?”

None. Except for that one glorious day you’d clung to Azriel like the world was finally peaceful. It was nowhere near the level of experience you suspected Lucien must have after centuries spent bouncing around from Court to Court. Nowhere near the level of experience Azriel or the others had when it came to touch.

You bristled. “Enough.”

Lucien smirked like he knew you were lying and held out his hand for another stone. Soon it too was lost to the river.

“How many this time?”

You twisted your lips to the side, but had to admit, “Nine.”

He was grinning.

“Come on.” He held out his hand for you, beckoning you deeper into the river. “Your turn. Just like I showed you.”

“This is a terrible idea.”

“Come on!”

“I will kill a fish, Lucien.”

There was a playful roll of his eyes. “Y/n—”

“I’ll end up throwing a rock so hard into the water I’ll give an innocent, unsuspecting fish brain damage.” So what if you were being melodramatic. That did nothing to counter the fact that your hand-eye coordination was shit.

“Y/n, you’ll be fine. I promise.”

Wrong.

You were gods awful at this.

You tried your best to mimic the bend of Lucien’s spine as he let go of his stone, tried to mimic the way he curled his fingers against its rounded edges. But every single one of your throws was either too strong or too weak. Too high or too low.

You chucked the last rock in your hand but the spin on it — or rather lack thereof — was abysmal. It plopped into the river three yards away with a splash.

Lucien chuckled, shaking his head as you stomped back onto the beach, swearing with every step as your robes dragged through the water behind you.

You whirled around and kicked up river water in his direction.

“Stop laughing!” A smile tugged at your lips even as you said that.

“You’re doing very well!”

“Don’t be condescending.”

“I’m not!”

“I didn’t grow up in the backwoods of Autumn. I’ve never done this before,” you grumbled, your words tinged with embarrassment.

And thank the Mother you hadn’t. Yes, Lucien had always wanted a sister, but he flinched just to think of the horrors you would have faced if you’d both shared a mother instead of a father. The ways Beron would have bent you until you broke, especially as a female. Sold to the highest bidder and forced to have as many children as possible. A high-end, noble-blooded breeder.

Suddenly he wasn’t laughing anymore. The smile slipped off his bright face.

You stiffened. Some of the scars on Lucien’s body took on new meaning.

“I’m sorry, Lucien,” you said. The fun of the afternoon, as embarrassing as it had been for you, fell away. “I wasn’t thinking.”

You’d only heard whispers of the way Beron treated his children. Which could only mean that they’d endured infinitely worse.

Lucien shook his head and more of his scarlet hair came tumbling out of his braid. He looked so much like Helion in the sun that you were surprised more people didn’t know. They had the same strong noses, the same build with their tapered waists and strong legs. They even had the same dimple on their left cheeks.

But maybe Beron and his brothers had known, or at least suspected that he was different, and that had added to Lucien’s torment.

“Maybe one day you could show me though,” you asked hopefully when the silence was on the verge of becoming too loud, “I’ve never been to Autumn — I’ve not been to most places, actually — but I’d like to see it. I could show you the Day Court too.”

He shook his head slowly, rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think that would be a good idea — visiting the Day Court.”

That was the issue you’d been tiptoeing around the last two hours. You both knew about Helion, but he was only aware of your existence, not Lucien’s. And it was one thing for you to be revealed as Helion’s daughter — there’d be gossip, attempts on your life, and countless marriage proposals.

But for Lucien? He’d suddenly find himself face to face with the weight of a crown and an entire Court on his shoulders. You wouldn’t blame him for trying to avoid that fate.

Still, you couldn’t help but ask, “Lucien… Why haven’t you told Helion yet? Beron’s been dead for years now, and I’ve heard only good things about Eris. That he’s honest and fair. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d punish you if you claimed your right to Helion’s Court.”

His bright eyes turned bitter, all laughter disappearing. He dipped his hand into the river, picked up a rock, and chucked it back in. Its edges were too ragged anyway.

“What makes you think he doesn’t already know?”

You straightened up as if the answer were obvious. “Trust me, he doesn’t know. If he knew you were his son, he would have found ways to see you grow up. We might have even grown up together.”

It was a pathetic daydream, but one you’d been thinking about.

“You’re wrong!”

The outburst was so sudden, so unlike the Lucien everyone else spoke of that you had to take a few steps back. Smoke rose from his clenched fists and his skin pulsed, glowing with an inner light like he was more ember than fae.

He blinked rapidly then swore, brushing his salt-stiffened hair back.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, but…” He shook his head. “He wouldn’t have come. He didn’t come. He just left me and my mother there with that monster. He must have known what it was like — the things he did to her and the rest of us — but he never showed up. Not for my mother. Not for me.”

“He didn’t know.”

You repeated those words with the same conviction you had for everything else you knew to be true. You stepped closer and with the slope of the beach you could face him eye-to-eye.

“Do you want to know how I know? My mother wanted nothing to do with him when she found out she was pregnant. He had to hear it from one of the healers. And when I was born she forbade him from visiting, forbade him from even laying eyes on me, but he couldn’t stay away. He found ways to be in my life and protected me as best he could, and when Mom died and I was left on my own, he gave me projects with purpose so I wouldn’t crumble into nothing.” You stabbed your finger against your chest. “He did that for me. Is he a great father? Absolutely not. Is he a decent father? Maybe? Probably not, he wasn’t there most of the time. But he’s trying. I know it’s not the same and we’re still strangers and I understand if you don’t forgive him for abandoning your mother — I wouldn’t — but he would have gone for you.”

You were breathing hard now. Lucien just stared with shiny eyes and unclenched fists.

“And I think after everything you’ve been through, you deserve to know what it’s like to have a father who at least tries.”

The world was too small right now. It was too big. The Sidra had soaked through your skin and your robes were growing heavier and heavier by the second, weighed down by salt water and time.

“Would you at least consider telling him? Please?”

Because another pathetic daydream you’d been thinking of recently was that one day it might be you and Helion and Lucien. An imperfect family, but a family nevertheless. That you might not feel so alone anymore.

Lucien’s throat bobbed and he turned away from you long enough for the crisp wind to dry his tears.

“Take off your robes. They must be soaked by now. I’ll make sure you don’t go cold.'” His voice was strangled. He cleared his throat. “And I’ll look for more stones. No sister of mine is going to go through life without learning how to skip stones.”

He threw that word around so casually — sister — like saying it over and over again would somehow make the hundreds of years you’d both spent on your own disappear.

Clouds gathered steadily overhead painting the world with a wash of grey. But that did nothing to diminish the faint light that emanated from you and Lucien as you waded through the shallows and finally learned to skip stones. Lucien whooped, red hair streaming behind him, and you smiled as your last stone skipped twice over the river before disappearing beneath the surface.

You leaned back in the tall, dying grasses and sipped on the cardamom tea Elain brought down from the House, listening to the many stories Lucien had gathered over centuries spent traversing Prythian and the Human Lands. You told him about The Alcove, Cherp, your mother, and the books you read, and he listened like it was the most epic tale he’d heard in his entire life.

Sometimes you both went quiet. It was sobering to think about what you’d both endured alone without your true family. But still… it was good to have one another now.

When you walked into the packed dining room — barefoot, salt-stained, and rosy from the cold — Lucien pulled out the seat next to him for you, surprising the grey Ione.

Elain dropped gracefully into the chair across from her mate, a knowing smile on her face.

“Good day?”

You and Lucien glanced at one another. His golden eye whirred and his russet eye gleamed mischievously.

You folded your arms over your chest, forcing down the smile that threatened to make its appearance. “The worst.”

“You’re just upset because you lost,” Lucien teased, casually draping his arm over your shoulder.

“It was hardly a fair competition. You must have — what? — five-hundred years of experience against me?”

He clasped a hand over his chest. “You wound me, sister. Although, if you must know, I’m four hundred and seventeen.”

“I’m surprised you’re not a sack of bones on the floor.”

“I’m not that old.”

“I think I see a few grey hairs here and there.”

Lucien scoffed, but everyone noticed when he absentmindedly touched his long red locks as the last of the dinner plates materialized on the table. Feyre reached over from beside Lucien and squeezed his hand tightly under the table.

It wasn’t the drop of Helion’s magic that caused The High Lady’s eyes to glow so brightly. She was just happy. Lucien squeezed her hand back even tighter.

Azriel was the last to arrive, appearing in the hallway in a swath of shadows like he was stepping out of one of your dreams. He must have flown home today. Mist gathered into droplets that clung to his skin and hair and eyelashes like a thousand diamonds. Not even the faint shadows beneath his eyes could distract from his beauty, and you felt that familiar wash of comfort flow over your body when you caught his scent.

There was only one available seat left at the table. The one directly across from you and Lucien… and right next to Elain.

Your stomach dropped.

The seating arrangement was truly a horrible coincidence. One that no one seemed to recognize until it was too late and Azriel’s chair was screeching over the wooden floor. Both he and Elain shifted in their seats, quietly pulling them further apart. It should have made you feel better that Azriel was trying so hard to distance himself from Elain, but the only thing it emphasized was that they’d used to be so close.

Cassian looked over nervously at his brother, but Azriel was as impassive as always. The room fell into uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by the sounds of chewing and the clinking of silverware. If the House was a person, they would be sweating buckets.

Cassian coughed and sipped his wine. “So… lovely weather we’re having.”

Lightning cracked across the darkened sky, followed by rain that began plummeting to the earth in heavy sheets.

Rhysand leaned over and smacked his brother on the back of his head and Cassian couldn’t even feign annoyance at that.

“You never fail to have incredible timing, Cassian.” Lucien drank his wine deeply and some of the tension seemed to lift from the table when everyone noticed how happy he still was. The terrible things in the world had not lessened, but Lucien felt lighter than he had in decades.

In proper Helion fashion, he kept the pleasant conversation spinning over the table, ensnaring you with the stories he tossed back and forth with Feyre.

“How was I supposed to know you’d be crazy enough to try and capture a Suriel?”

“What? Like it was meant to be difficult?”

Lucien smirked and crossed his arms. “Beginner’s luck.”

“What were the second and third times then?”

“The Suriel being a terrible busybody who was bored and wanted to spill gossip.”

Feyre flipped him off and he winked in return.

Azriel did what he always did and sat still and quiet as a mouse, eyes tracing over the flow of conversation like he knew who would speak before they’d even opened their mouths. But his eyes kept lingering on you, a smile tugging at his lips whenever one grew on yours.

Lucien noticed it the third time it happened. Then the fourth. Then the fifth. Until he found himself watching the Shadowsinger almost as intensely as Azriel was watching you.

His grip tightened around his silverware.

“I am not nearly as uptight as Gwyn says I am,” you muttered, pushing around the potatoes on your plate.

You’d sunk into your seat when, to your embarrassment, the conversation had steered in your direction. Azriel had been the one to do it, casually dropping a comment about how much time you spent in Cagniv Library and the ways in which you’d already influenced the priestesses who operated there. It was the first thing he’d said all day.

“You made a fifth year apprentice cry.”

“That’s a lie, Nesta, and you know it.”

Nesta did know it, but you’d been so quiet the past few weeks. She wanted to poke fun if only to make you smile.

“Fine, that was an exaggeration. But you interrogated Farrah like she was a war criminal. Azriel would have been impressed.”

“She’s the only expert on Cyerion Age Bauldish folklore and she was missing half the citations for her thesis! It took me ages to track down some of her sources.”

“She can’t cite a book that’s over 2,000 years old with no identifiable author. Or title. Or publishing date.”

You grumbled under your breath. Something about, “Your library gives me anxiety” and “You’re making me look bad in front of Lucien.”

“Hmmm? Sorry?” Lucien tore his eyes away from where one of Azriel’s shadows had slid under the table and was now wrapping around the leg of your chair in an effort to gain your attention.

You shook your head. “Nesta’s just trying to make me look bad.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Azriel said softly, so softly he probably hadn’t even meant to say the words aloud. He looked up from his plate, shocked to hear his own voice continue on. “Maybe after this is all done, you could take on the task of reorganizing Cagniv. I’m sure you’d be saving the next Librarian more than a few headaches.”

Your wide eyes met his across the table and for a brief moment it was like you two were alone and teasing each other over tea in the middle of the night like you used to. Two shadows illuminated by candlelight in a Court that never slept.

You sat up a little straighter. “Is that a challenge?”

Azriel smiled faintly, “Maybe. Although I’m sure Bryaxis would give you a run for your money.”

You furrowed your brows. “Bryaxis?”

Rhys smirked, “He’s the resident shadow demon that lives on the bottom floor of Cagniv. He flew down once on a dare and he high-tailed it out of the abyss white as a sheet. He still doesn’t talk about it.”

“Fuck you for bringing that up, Rhys.” Cassian’s hand trembled as he brought his fork up to his lips, “You’ll never let me live that down will you?”

“You… you have a shadow demon living in your library?” Your face twisted in horror and you slammed your knife down on the table, “Is that why a third of the catalogue is missing from the shelves? I’ve been searching for ages!”

And there it was — that faint twitch of irritation in your eyes that told Azriel you were already contemplating going down to confront Bryaxis yourself. He could imagine how you’d stand there with a hand tucked into your robes, swinging a lantern from the other as you bullied the monster into letting you move the volumes someplace else. How you’d lecture him on the importance of controlling humidity when it comes to parchment preservation, and perhaps how you’d begrudgingly agree that the creature’s darkness had protected the fragile books from light exposure.

“I knew that’s what you’d focus on,” Azriel said. His voice was deeper than an ocean, and just as full of hidden meaning. He shook his head in disbelief, a small smile gracing his lips. “You just learned you spent months studying with a monster lurking nearby — a monster that has Cassian trembling in the corner—”

“I am not trembling—”

“And you’re not afraid at all. You’re… you’re incredible, Y/n.”

You pursed your lips, tamping down the delight that threatened to spill over inside of you like champagne bubbles — light and airy and lovestruck. With only a handful of sentences, Azriel had you wishing that everyone else would just leave. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks as Azriel kept looking at you. It was a quiet, intimate undressing without an inch of skin needing to be revealed.

A tendril of shadow creeped up your arm and tugged your hair. The rest hovered shyly over a bag you recognized as Azriel’s, as if they knew they’d done wrong by ferrying it over from their master’s bedroom. But the timing was so perfect, how could they not?

With you watching, they tugged open the strings and spilled the contents on the floor.

To Lucien’s surprise, Azriel’s notorious stone-face went flush with color when he heard the thud of books and realized what his shadows had done.

“Wait—Y/n—” His chair groaned in protest when he shot to his feet.

But you were already holding them in your hands.

The Natural Trials and Tribulations of Leonora Bedroot, Three Knocks for A Kiss, and A Touch of Cinnamon. Your favorite books in the entire world. Two copies each. One brand new, and one whose pages were already flared, leather spines lovingly wrinkled.

Your breath caught in your throat when you flipped through Three Knocks for a Kiss and saw Azriel’s delicate scrawl on every page. Passages had been circled and underlined with his comments left in the margins. Small tabs of paper poked out with more handwritten notes.

Azriel’s been reading these over and over again for months now. He bought them a week after you came to Velaris because he remembered you liked books that are well loved and full of memory. The nights he couldn’t sleep and dream of you, he’d perch on his windowsill and read until morning came. You’ve given him a peace he’s never known before.

A kind of peace you thought you’d been alone in feeling.

The scent of night-chilled mountains and parchment paper filled your nose.

Azriel bowed his head ever so slightly, eyes focused on your hands now clutching the books like they were gold.

“I remembered seeing them in your apartment. I was going to give them to you at some point but…” Azriel trailed off, then whispered. “I remember what you told me about your mother reading them to you.” I remember everything you’ve told me.

“I can keep them?” Your voice was a hush over the room.

You cradled them protectively against your chest, as if at any moment they’d be torn away from you. You’d been hesitant to buy new copies after the original ones had been burned down in the Alcove. Part of their charm had always been the memories of your mother reading them aloud like they were flowers growing from her lips instead of words, buzzing and honey-laden. The books felt different now, but they still felt like something. They weren’t sterile and blank. They were filled with Azriel and all the good memories he carried with him. Few and far between as they were.

“They’re yours,” Azriel breathed, “All yours.”

Lucien looked back and forth between you two, focusing on the blush of your cheeks and the wetness in your eyes and the thinly veiled adoration in Azriel’s face now that you were looking back at him. A sick, knowing feeling had been building inside of him throughout dinner, but he’d repressed it. He couldn’t repress it any longer.

No. Absolutely not. There’s no way. There’s no fucking way.

He let his shock flow through the bond and looked to Elain for confirmation.

Please tell me I’m wrong. He begged silently. Anyone but him. Literally anyone but him.

They’d yet to accept the bond, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t read each other like an open book. And right now Lucien was doing nothing to hide his seething temper.

Elain bit her pale, pink lips and nodded, confirming what he already suspected. Then, in a move of silent permission, she slid her chair six inches away from Azriel’s until she was practically sharing a seat with Nesta.

“Here we go again,” Nesta groaned and looked at Cassian. You want to get her?

Yeah I got her.

You straightened up, pressing the books to your chest in confusion. What had started off as a graciously uneventful dinner had turned into a moment of beauty that you wanted to preserve for a little while longer.

But everyone around you parted, leaning back in their chairs and pulling glasses of wine off the table before draining them in one long chug. Even Ione held her plate in her hands, popping a tomato in her mouth with interest. Mor looked nervous clutching a sweaty bottle of wine against her chest. Feyre and Rhys looked resigned and Lucien… Lucien looked livid. After all, he owed Azriel for the Blood Duel.

Cassian hoisted you out of your seat with his arms wrapped firmly around your middle and stepped back and out of the way.

Your eyes widened when Lucien stood up, skin rippling with light and power. He calmly rolled back his sleeves revealing muscular, scarred forearms, then took off his rings one by one and dropped them on the table.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

He wanted to feel it when he beat the Shadowsinger to a pulp.

Oh… Oh shit.

“Wait—Lucien!”

Lucien gritted his teeth and launched himself over the table.

Azriel didn’t flinch. His hazel eyes didn’t even flicker in surprise. In fact, you swore you saw them flutter closed in acceptance.

In another fight, Azriel might have had the advantage of wings and height, but Lucien had the wider build and the fucking motive. He slammed into the Shadowsinger’s chest and together they disappeared beneath the lip of the table before landing in a sprawl on the floor that knocked the air out of Azriel’s lungs.

Cassian winced when he heard the first of Lucien’s blows land.

“Let me go!” You kicked and squirmed in his grip, but you would have had more luck fighting a mountain. “Cassian, what the fuck?!”

“I’m really sorry, Y/n. But even I have to admit he had this coming.” There was another bloody crack. “Oh damn that sounds like it hurt.”

“Honestly, I didn't know he had it in him,” was Nesta’s only comment. Ione moved to stand beside the eldest Archeron sister so she could get a better view, a faintly amused smile on her face.

“I did,” Elain said simply. That was one of the many things she and Lucien had in common. Their general patience and understanding could only stretch so far before snapping. “Ione, perhaps you should go upstairs.”

The older woman looked offended. “Why? This is the most fun I’ve had in ages. Such drama.”

When Helion had fought Azriel, there’d been an elegance to it — something altogether noble about the event as the two stared each other down as equals.

This was nothing like that.

Lucien was pissed and even Azriel had to admit that he really, really deserved this one.

Lucien’s chest heaved, every blow of his fists against Azriel’s face punctuated by snarling words.

“First you go after my mate—” Punch. “Then my sister—” Punch. Punch. “Are you—” Punch. “Fucking—” Punch. “Kidding me?!”

The last blow sent Azriel’s head snapping back hard enough to crack the floor tiles. Blood splattered from his nose like a spray of paint lobed at a canvas and Azriel knew from his sudden inability to breath that it was broken.

“Lucien! Stop it!”

“We just redid the tiles,” Rhysand groaned, rubbing his temples.

Lucien growled and grabbed Azriel by the front of his leathers, throwing him over and onto the table. The long mahogany table, shiny and expensive as hell, snapped in two with a deafening bang. Silverware flew into the air, catching the light like holiday tinsel. Porcelain plates shattered and Azriel finally groaned in pain from the harsh twisting of his wings. The fearsome Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court could only lay there as green peas rolled down on top of him, gravy sinking into his hair.

“Not the table too,” Rhys whined. He’d had it specially commissioned for the River House.

Lucien dragged Azriel off the glorified heap of wood chips before tossing him back onto the floor, fist raised in the air.

“Alright! That’s enough,” Feyre said with a loud clap of her hands. “If you two want to fight, do it outside. I don’t want anyone breaking my house. Again.”

The River House sighed in relief.

Lucien paused just long enough for Rhysand to haul the redhead off his brother with little regard for anyone’s pride.

“Get off me,” Lucien snapped, shoving Rhys away. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

When Cassian finally let you down, you rushed over to Azriel’s side, swiping the handkerchief Rhys held out for you as you passed.

Azriel sat on the floor, face impassive despite the brutal angle of his nose and the blood sprayed over his face and neck. You cradled his face, gently nudging it this way and that as you surveyed the damage.

“Oh Azriel,” you breathed.

Bruises bloomed over his cheekbones, muddy as paint water. His right eye was almost swollen shut, and his split lips bled anew when he gave you a tentative smile.

“Hi,” he murmured reverently, leaning against the palm you cupped beneath his jaw.

Lucien gagged. “Can someone rip my eye out again? Both this time, please?”

“Damnit, Lucien!” You held the handkerchief up to Azriel’s nose, trying to stem the flow of blood before it could continue dripping from his chin. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Really, Y/n?! You’re defending him?!”

Azriel wrapped one arm protectively around your waist, eyes narrowed in a glare. With the blood coating his face he looked positively murderous. Like he’d done the beating and not Lucien.

“Don’t yell at her,” he growled, his voice dangerously low.

“For fuck’s sake.”

It had been a momentary outburst — a rare occurrence with Lucien that held no anger towards you. But you still felt the flare of Azriel’s power as shadows wrapped around you in a layer so thick you couldn’t see past your waist.

“Azriel—” You didn’t want another fight. “It's ok.”

“No. It’s not.”

Lucien was a mixed bag of emotions and he felt a dozen of them go off at the same time like fireworks. There was rage at the male who had the audacity to lay a hand on you, who’d hurt you if the rumours in Velaris were true. A bitter desire for revenge that still lay heavy on his hands after the utter hell he’d gone through watching Azriel and Elain for years. Protectiveness over you — his sister. And a tiny sliver of shame that grew every time you prodded the Shadowsinger’s bent nose and winced.

“Do you know?” Lucien’s voice shook.

“Do I know what, Lucien?”

He swore and looked at everyone in turn. The members of the Inner Circle were trying their damned hardest not to meet his eyes, nervously angling their gaze towards the ground or out the windows like the evening fog was the most interesting thing they’d ever seen.

Fucking hell. You didn’t know.

Lucien reached down over your shoulder, grabbed Azriel’s nose and shoved it back into place with a loud pop.

You cringed at the sound, but Azriel didn’t react. He was well acquainted with pain and knew how to hide it.

He breathed through his reset nose, touching the swore flesh gingerly. “Thank you.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Lucien!”

He clenched his teeth so hard he thought they might crack. Elain chose that moment to quietly slide her hand into his from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder so he was surrounded by the smell of wildflowers. She tapped the center of his chest, right where he’d told her he felt anchored by the bond, and then looked pointedly to where you kneeled on the ground in between Azriel’s legs.

And Azriel… Azriel looked lost to the world. Centuries spent relegated to the shadows as a Spymaster had wiped away his feelings, at least outwardly. But everyone could plainly see the way he kept his hand on your arm, thumb brushing circles over your warm skin and the settling of his breathing the longer you held onto his jaw with careful fingers.

Of all the people. It had to be him.

“The Mother works in mysterious ways,” Elain whispered so only her mate could hear.

“Unfortunately for me.”

Lucien took in a ragged breath and clenched his fists, waiting for the worst of his anger to fade away before he collected the books back into the discarded bag and held it out for you.

A peace offering.

You pulled Azriel back onto his feet, keeping one hand firmly clasped in his, and glared at your brother. “That was completely unnecessary.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” And he meant it.

Your lips flattened. “Shouldn’t you be apologizing to Azriel?”

His mismatched eyes flared with irritation when they flickered to the Shadowsinger.

Azriel stood quietly at your side, his face a motley of red, purple, and blue. Still handsome though, much to Lucien’s annoyance.

“I’m not going to apologize for that. He deserved it. I’m just sorry you had to witness it.” Lucien hesitated, then said, “Y/n, I’m not usually like this. I don’t want you to think poorly of me just because of… him.” It was taking everything within him not to use more colorful language to describe the Shadowsinger. “It won’t happen again… unless you ask me to… which I hope you do.”

Lucien wasn’t sure what to expect. He didn’t know what anger looked like painted on your features, or sadness, and he didn’t want to. So, it was a pleasant surprise when you only rolled your eyes and muttered, “First Helion and now you. Fucking males,” before slinging the bag over your shoulder and tugging Azriel towards your room.

The Shadowsinger trailed after you without a second thought, heart hammering away in his chest.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

LET'S GO BIG BROTHER LUCIEEEEENNNNNNNNN

Y'all I had so much fucking fun writing the Lucien/Azriel fight scene. And to think that for a hot second I considered not writing it because I was worried it would be too repetitive to have Azriel get his ass beaten by both Helion and Lucien. Azriel, you poor, poor man, I'm sorry to have put you through all this. But also I'm not sorry at all.

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! As always, please feel free to send me your thoughts!

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel x reader angst #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #y/n x inner circle #reader x inner circle #reader x lucien #lucien x reader #lucien x y/n #lucien vanserra has my whole heart #i will fight anyone who says anything bad about him #ugh but writing the sibling dynamic between Y/n and Lucien where he's so excited and she's so worried the whole time #SADJF BCALSIGEHRJFKJANDSBHGUFI #just Lucien vanserra

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luvs4matt · 7 days

Note

Can you do sleepy!reader x bf!matt headcannons

bf!matt x sleepy reader head cannons

warnings - fluff, nsfw content, nicknames (baby, angel), no use of y/n, slight somnophilia

SFW ⭐️

- almost every time he gets home from filming he finds you sleeping. sometimes its on the couch, sometimes its on his bed, he has even found you asleep on the floor before

“baby i’m back!” he gets worried when you don’t respond “baby?” he walks into his room to find you curled up in a ball on the floor, a unfinished puzzle in front of you

matt smiles to himself before he picks you up bridal style placing you in bed covering you up “good night angel” he whispers leaving a kiss on your temple before heading out to the living room

- when you and matt had movie dates not even 10 minutes in you would be yawning denying that your tired just for matt to find you sleeping half an hour into the movie

“i told you i’m not tired, i would never fall asleep during tangled” you had already yawned twice 15 minutes into the movie “okay whatever you say” matt already knew you would be asleep soon

you guys had planned a movie date at your place so you were currently cuddling on your couch, a few minutes later matt hears soft snores coming from below him

he looks down to see your sleeping figure “i knew it” he mutters

- you would constantly be complaining that you were tired and matt would bully you every time

“i’m so tired” you yawn “per usual” you look up at him giving a judgmental stare “am i wrong?” you giggle in response know he was right

- when going on a road trip together he already knew to grab a pillow and blanket for you even if it was only an hour

you lock the door to you and matts shared apartment walking to the passenger side door

when you open the door to find a pillow and blanket already in the floor board waiting for you “you really do know the way to a girls heart matthew” giving him a peck on the lips “only yours”

NSFW ⭐️

- when you and matt took a nap together you would most likely end up having sleepy sex

“please matt” you grind your ass against his clothed half hard member “fuck, thought you wanted to take a nap” he groans, even though he intended to sleep he liked this idea much better

“i need your cock inside me, please, a nap can wait” next thing you know his cock is inside of you making slow sensual thrust, the only noises heard was both of your low moans

- some nights would end up with you lazily bouncing up and down on him, even though you were so tired you needed him more

“there you go baby” matt praises as you lower yourself down on him, a string of moans leaving your mouth, you started off slow but eventually worked up your speed wanting nothing more than to feel him

“m’so close” you moan “fuck, cum on my cock baby”

- you didn’t always want sex sometimes you just wanted his cock inside of you while sleeping

“are you sure?” you nod your head “yes, please matt” he pulls his cock out of his boxers sliding your panties to the side before sliding himself inside of you

you sigh in contentment no longer feeling empty before drifting off to sleep together

- matt would sometimes purposely wake you up when he got back from filming after he had seen the dark patch on your panties, the position your in giving him full view

you wake up to matts hand cupping your pussy, his lips making contact with your neck “i missed you” he whispers “i see that” you giggle “i missed you too, a’lot”

“i see that” he mocks as his thumb rubs on the dark patch in your panties, you let out a whimper at his actions “i need you”

“you’ll get me baby, you’ll get me”

@sturnpooks

#smut #luvs4matt #matt sturniolo #smutty smut smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #headcanon #sleepy #requested

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teapartyprincess4two · 2 months

Text

Parenthood- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Mom!reader x Dad!Matt

classification: SFW & NSFW headcannons

inspiration: request

warnings: some 18+ content, use of Y/n, established relationship, I didn’t name the children but Matt has a son and a daughter in this 👍🏻

summary: head cannons of dad!Matt.

Parenthood- C. Sturniolo (Chris’s Version)

—

☆SFW

From the moment Matt met you, he knew he wanted you to be the mother of his children. Both of your children were received with so much love and joy, but Matt still had to learn how to navigate being a boy dad and a girl dad.

☆ Your firstborn is a boy and Matt can’t contain the excitement he feels when he first finds out.

☆ He’s overprotective of you throughout the entire pregnancy, ready to take care of your every need.

☆ Your son is hyper, rambunctious, curious and a force to be reckoned with. He barges into the room with so much energy balled up into his small figure that he’s bouncing off the walls.

☆ When your daughter is born, she’s the complete opposite of your son. She’s calm, quiet, and docile.

☆ It takes Matt some time to adjust to having a baby girl, but as soon as he gets in the groove of it he can’t remember what life was like before having a daughter.

☆ Matt’s playing soccer outside with your son, playing pirates, boxing, and building elaborate Lego sets with him.

☆ “No dad! We’re pirates! We have to steal all the gold!” your son explains, adjusting his make-shift eyepatch.

☆ “I thought we were ninjas?!” Matt’s out of breath, running after a fast toddler was extremely tiring.

☆ “No! We just beat the ninjas! They tried sneaking onto the ship, remember?” Your son’s imagination was too fast for Matt to keep up with.

☆ “Argh matey,” Matt replies, ready to continue with the game.

☆ But when your daughter wants attention he’s playing dress up, attending a tea party, getting his nails and makeup done, and talking to all her stuffed animals.

☆ “Daddy Miss Twinkle is mad at you for eating her cookies!” your daughter whispers, almost like she’s gossiping.

☆ Matt has lost track over which stuffed animal is which, but he’s assuming Miss Twinkle is the unicorn across from him.

☆ “I’m sorry Miss Twinkle,” he apologizes, shaking the toy’s hand.

☆ “Dad that was Lady Unicorn. Miss Twinkle is the teddy bear in the pink dress,” your daughter slaps her forehead. “Oops,” he laughs, taking a fake sip of tea.

☆ Matt has learned to be silly, fatherhood softening him and allowing him to abandon all embarrassment.

☆ “What are you wearing?” you laugh, Matt’s serious face adding to the comedy of the situation.

☆ He’s fully decked out in a pizza costume, trying to make your children laugh. “I’m a piece of pizza,” he replies goofily, putting on his best Italian accent.

☆ “You’re so silly daddy,” your son giggles. In his eyes, Matt is the funniest person on the planet.

☆ Your daughter is not as amused, but she smiles nonetheless.

☆ Matt loves doing domestic things with his little family. He’ll randomly pull out a baking sheet, all the ingredients to make cookies, and throw on an apron.

☆ “You’re doing so good, baby,” he coos, watching as your daughter throws an entire, uncracked egg into the mixing bowl. He wasn’t going to use that batch, but the words of encouragement have her smiling.

☆ Children fight all the time, especially when they’re siblings, and your kids are no exception. The year age gap doesn’t help either, so you’ll often find your kids bickering over the smallest things.

☆ “It’s not your turn to play, though!” your son attempts to reason, yanking the controller out of his sisters hands.

☆ “You played all day bozo!” she replies, sticking her tongue out at him.

☆ Matt hears the fight from his room, reluctantly getting up from his comfortable spot on his bed and walking over to where his children are.

☆ “What’s going on?” he asks, arms crossed and a displeased look etched on his face.

☆ “She’s being so annoying, dad!” your son exclaims, and before Matt knows it his kids are pushing, slapping, and punching each other.

☆ “HEY! BEHAVE!” Matt pulls them off of each other, scolding them both without favoritism. He goes on to lecture them about the importance of siblings and doesn’t leave until they hug and make up.

☆ Matt’s entire camera roll is filled with videos and pictures of his kids. Kindergarten ceremonies, family vacations, first haircuts, candid photos; all of it is being documented by Matt at all times.

☆ If he’s ever away from home for a long time, he’s scrolling through his gallery and reminiscing on all his memories with his babies.

☆ Your son is obsessed with video games, something that he and Matt bond over. And although your daughter isn’t as invested, she’s still really good at them.

☆ Mortal Kombat is a game they all play and enjoy together.

☆ “Move over and watch the queen play,” your daughter jokes, taking the controller from Matt after watching him lose time and time again to her brother.

☆ “Yeah, you wish you could beat me,” your son scoffs, readying up for another round.

☆ Your daughter chooses a girly character, which has your son rolling his eyes, but as soon as the round begins he can’t get a single hit in.

☆ Matt is in shock at her level of expertise, she was using combos he didn’t even know about.

☆ “Okay my turn against you, babygirl,” Matt takes the controller from his son, ready to play all night long if he has to.

☆ Having teenagers is hard and tiring, Matt feels like he ages 10 years in just one day with the amount of stress his kids cause him.

☆ Your daughter’s brain is suddenly occupied with nothing but boys and your son is starting to take girls on dates.

☆ “That skirt is too short,” you warn your daughter.

☆ “It is not,” she fights back, genuinely finding nothing wrong with her provocative outfit.

☆ Matt doesn’t have to say anything, one stern look has her trudging back upstairs to change.

☆ “Dad can I borrow the car?” your son asks nervously, avoiding Matt’s eyes at all costs.

☆ “For?” Matt’s not stupid, he knows what teenagers do.

☆ “Nothing, just hanging with some friends,” your son replies, but it doesn’t take long for Matt to get the truth out of him.

☆ Overall, fatherhood has been extremely rewarding for Matt. He sees it in the way his children love and look out for each other and what a great mom you are.

☆ “I love you guys so much,” Matt gushes, pulling the three of you in for a group hug.

☆ “Dad stop being weird,” your son groans, your daughter seconds his statement, but they don’t pull away from the hug.

☆NSFW

Having two children can take up a lot of personal time, especially when your daughter needs you and your son needs Matt. There’s never really any time for you and Matt to just exist as a couple, but he works hard to make sure you feel special everyday.

☆ You’re cooking lunch, the pure domesticity of your actions being enough to turn Matt on.

☆ The kids are still at school and if he’s convincing enough, you’ll abandon whatever’s on the stove and let him please you.

☆ Sneaky arms are wrapping around your waist, rocking you back and forth to the beat of the music that plays lowly in the background.

☆ Matt’s lips find your neck, your head falling back onto his shoulder in pleasure.

☆ Before you know it, you’re bent over the kitchen counter and Matt’s balls deep in you. “Take it,” he grunts, his hands gripping your waist so tight there were sure to be bruises.

☆ The food on the stove burns and you end up ordering pizza.

☆ When the kids are old enough, you and Matt leave them at home alone while you run errands.

☆ Something as simple as a quick trip to the grocery store turns into heated, passionate car sex.

☆ The windows are foggy and the car rocks with each thrust, Matt’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you ride him in the front seat.

☆ “You’re so fucking sexy,” he grunts, falling more in love with you as you whimper out his name. It doesn’t take long for him to finish, a string of curse words falling from his lips.

☆ Most times you two just do it in the shower. It’s sweet and full of so much love.

☆ He’ll fuck you against the cold tile wall before scrubbing your back and washing your hair you.

☆ It’s the sweet moments like this that both of you cherish. “I love you so much,” he whispers, the warm water running down both your faces. “I love you too,” you reply with a smile, going in for a passionate kiss.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: can I hear some commotion for dad Matt🎤

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

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mutedstarss · 5 months

Text

2 Years Too Long

Summary: Luffy and the crew reunites and he's happy to see you

tw: none, all fuff

———

As soon as Luffy’s feet hit the deck, he was bombarded with millions of questions and tons of hugs. He laughed and stretched his arms, making sure he was hugging every last one of his crew members. “Did you guys miss me?” He smiled, waiting for their responses. Of course everyone missed their captain, especially after not being there with him at the ‘Greatest War Of All Time.’ Their captain needed them and they couldn’t do anything about it, so the only thing they could do was love on him and get stronger for him.

Luffy pulled away and his eyes wandered the ship, looking for you. He tried his best to answer the questions his crew had asked, but he couldn’t help but look for you. Something that was never said but was evident, he had taken a special liking towards you. Though he didn’t know it, everyone else did. Just something about the way you made his heart race, the way thoughts of you filled his head, the way he would only share his food with you with a smile on his face. He thought of you as a regular crewmate, just felt something different with you, that’s all. Or at least that’s what he thought.

Not being able to hold his confusion in any longer, he backed away from the crew with furrowed brows and looked around the ship. “Where’s Y/n?” He walked to the front of the ship, hands on the railings, eyes squinted as he looked in the distance of the forest to see if you’re anywhere in sight. When you were nowhere to be found, he turned around with a huff and folded his arms.

“I don’t know. Maybe she’s got caught up in something?” Nami said, trying to reassure her captain, placing a hand on his shoulder and rubbing it gently.

“Maybe she’s not coming.” Brook muttered, his fingers gently tugging at the strings on his guitar.

Luffy felt a pit in his stomach at the possibility of you not showing up, of you leaving the crew, leaving him. He swallowed the lump that was clogged in his throat and turned around, trying his best to ignore Brook’s comment. “She’s coming. I’m sure of it.” He said with certainty in his voice. He was sure you wouldn’t leave.

Just as the crew started to doubt whether you were coming or not, Luffy jumped up, a huge grin plastered across his face and a light rosy color coating his cheeks. His heart was beating against his ribcage, it was beating so loudly, he heard it in his ears. He knew you were here, he felt you, your presence through his observation haki. “Y/n!” He yelled, his smile broadening when you came into view.

You placed a hand on top of your white sun hat, holding it down as you looked back and kept running, the marines hot on your tail. A huge smile spread across your face as you looked back at the Sunny and saw that your crew was waiting for you. Reaching the ship, Luffy already had his hand stretched out towards you, ready to grab you away from the marines. You reached for his hand, only to be met with them wrapping around your waist. Warmth spread throughout your cheeks when you felt his hands squeeze your waist. You landed on the ship, releasing a deep breath as Luffy steadied you when you were about to tip over.

“Sorry, guys. I got held up by the marines.” You laughed out, looking around at your friends. You felt tears well up in your eyes from how much you missed them.

“Oh, come here!” Nami smiled, tears sticking to her low eyelids as she held out open arms for you. You immediately ran into her arms, engulfing her in a tight hug. Not too long after, the rest of the crew joined, finally having everyone on board.

Just as you’re all basking in each other’s presence, a cannon ball hits the boat, making everyone topple over from the force. Usopp pulls his slingshot out and aims it towards the marine ship. Letting the rubber go, it snaps back just as fast and the ball of plants hits the boat, making it crumble apart. Your eyes sparkle in amazement and you run over to Usopp, opening your arms and pulling him into a hug. “That was so awesome!” He rubs his nose and lets out a proud scoff, chuckling as he starts to flex.

Luffy sees how excited you are with Usopp and his newly found skills and he wants to join in on the fun, too, so you’ll notice him as well. Luffy holds onto his bicep, ready to launch his arm for his attack, that is, until Nami grabs onto him to stop him.

“Luffy, we don’t have time. Let’s go!” Nami yells before running up to the helm, turning it all the way to the right. Luffy pouts as he looks over to you and Usopp, a weird feeling erupting like a volcano in his chest. He wants a hug, too!

The boat shakes and rocks in the water as the Sunny turns away from the marines. You guys get far enough away from them, finally getting to relax and talk about your training.

You’re resting your arms on the railing of the Sunny, staring out at the sea with a smile on your face.

“We really haven’t gotten the chance to talk.” Luffy pulls you from your trance. You turn around and your smile grows bigger, staring at the change of your captain. He’s gotten taller and his voice has also gotten deep. Blush coated your cheeks as you stared up at him.

“We really haven’t.” You gave him a soft smile before turning around and looking back at the sea. Hands are on your shoulders and you’re turned back around and engulfed in a hug. You gasp and your eyes widen in surprise. “Luffy?”

He sighs and his hold on you tightens. “I missed you. A whole lot.” He mumbles in your neck. The blush made its way back to your face as you took his words in. The only thoughts that filled your head was Luffy, and you didn’t try to stop it. You’ve had a crush on him for the longest time and now he's holding you and telling you that he missed you? That’s a bonus. You reciprocate the hug and bury your head in his shoulder. Luffy felt on cloud 9, no, cloud 10,000 when he felt your arms around him. He had felt like he won the One Piece, especially after he got the hug you gave to Usopp just moments before. “I missed you, too.” You replied truthfully.

Luffy’s heart speeds up hearing you say that and an uncontrolled smile makes its way to his face. He pulls away and lets out a giggle, “Come on! I have so much to tell you.” Luffy’s hand interlock with yours and he leads you away from the rest of the crew.

#one piece #one piece x reader #fluff #cute #luffy x reader #reader insert #y/n #monkey d. luffy #luffy #pirate king #op #nami #usopp #soul king brook

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realtalkswithfinn · 5 months

Text

Christmas at the Compound

Avengers x reader

Summary: Avengers x reader Christmas head cannons because I am a sucker for the found family trope.

a/n: I tried to get this up before christmas but totally spaced it, so… tale it as a christmas morning gift! I tried to make it as age neutral as possible, so it could totally be teen!reader or not.

The holidays are a tough time for the Avengers.

Most of them have lost family members or friends, and the idea of celebrating anything is extremely difficult.

Tony especially - he always gets gloomy around the Holidays.

He always says something along the lines of, "I don't actually care about this, but its social convention."

But secretly he cares a lot.

He overcompensates for his lack of affection throughout the year by buying everyone the expensive gifts he knows they want but could never justify spending on themselves.

At surface level, it just seems like “oh rich guy is spending rich guy money”

But they’re actually really thoughtful gifts

Like last year, he got Peter a new laptop for school.

He bought Bucky new and thick clothes since all of his were old and worn.

He upgraded Clints cellular data so he could talk to his family anywhere.

Things like that.

Sam and Rhodey take one for the team and string the christmas lights on the tower

“It’s too cold for this.” Sam would complain, the sharp wind nipping at his cheeks as he flew from one end of the building to the other, lights in tow.

“Come one man, where’s your christmas spirit?” Rhodey would laugh

“I’m just doing this so stark’s power bill goes up.”

it really was worth it seeing the tower lit up top to bottom though

Wanda LIVES for commercialized American Christmas

"We have to make gingerbread houses and go to Rockefeller to see the Christmas tree and we have to go out to the snow and go sledding-"

She demands family Christmas photos be taken, even though you don't really have anyone to send them to.

This years theme was christmas pjs

Which lead to a few very interesting viral videos of the avengers in an Old Navy

“Tony come on the reindeer ones are cute!”

“Bruce. A man can not hold onto his masculinity while wearing pjs with dancing reindeer.”

Natasha gets tired of the bellyaching and bickering and makes the final decision

She grabs everyone’s size in the Reindeer pjs and marches to the front of the store

After snagging Tony’s credit card, of course.

Actually taking the picture is a whole other ball game, but that’s a story for another day

Thor has a hard time with the idea of Santa

You try to explain it to him, but it doesn’t seem to help

“So a fat man breaks into the safety of your home late into the night… and you let it happen because he comes baring gifts?”

“Well… yeah.”

“But only to nice children. That he stalks throughout the year.”

“He doesn’t stalk the children he just…”

“Hm.” He squints. “what about the naughty children?”

“They don’t get any presents.”

“OR,” Wanda interjects, “Krampus comes to get them.”

“Is that another fat man in a red disguise?”

“No. He’s a demon sent from hell to eat them.”

Thor nods in approval. “Ah. That’s much more asgardian. A fair reward system for the youth!”

You stare at him. “So… you’re okay with Krampus but not Santa?”

“Well I think they work together well, like a team. Like us!”

“I… I guess…”

Decorating the tree was an all night event

You would help happy bring up what felt like hundreds of boxes of christmas decorations

The tree itself was about 15 feet tall, because it wouldn’t be a holiday at the compound if you guys weren’t extra

It was placed in the living space, right next to a huge wall of windows so all of New York could see your festivity

it had to be decorated to the nines to pass Wanda’s inspection

Not a bare branch

Theres tinsel, ribbons, colorful lights, and hundreds of ornaments

But of course, ladders were a no go

You guys liked a challenge

To reach the higher branches, you and Natasha would stand on Steve and Buckys shoulders

And I mean stand

Not sit

It was a thrilling balancing game

You trusted them to catch you if you fell, but you still had to try to avoid it at all costs to save the tree from certain destruction

Peter would dangle from the ceiling, crawling around to hang ornaments toward the very top

Both of these acts nearly gave Bruce and Vision a heart attack

“CAP, you’re moving to fast shes gunna lose balance-“

“Bruce, please take a breath.”

Meanwhile Thor is getting distracted by all the ornaments and forgetting to actually hang them up

“This one’s a little man of snow! How silly!”

Speaking of ornaments

You all have an ornament of yourself on the tree

Or, your super hero alias at least

There’s a tiny black widow, a little iron man, a bity baby hulk, so on and so forth

Tony always demands his be the highest up on the tree to fuel his god complex

Drawing names out of a hat to see who got to put the star on top of the tree

(except you guys would always rig it behind Wanda’s back, only putting her name in the hat)

She would always protest, insisting to let someone else do it this year, but you guys never relented

So with a big cheesy grin on her face, she would use her magic to delicately place the star on the tippy top

You would think Natasha wouldn’t want to see the Nutcracker Ballet after her time in the red room

But it makes her so happy to see dancing as an art form instead of a way to brainwash young girls

She drags you, Clint, Wanda, and whoever else wants to tag along every year

She even splurges on front row seats

You look over and see her eyes glittering while she watches every turn, leap, and stunt intently

Leaving the theater, she’ll walk on her toes and do a few turns, encouraging you to try as well.

She ends up cackling watching you trip and stumble

“We’ll work on it.”

Can you IMAGINE the ginger bread making contest???

You’re all huddled around the long dining room table with christmas music playing

Theres Clint and Natasha, who just make the classic gingerbread house, no fancy bells or whistles.

Then there’s Bruce,Tony, and Peter who are going absolutely wild building gingerbread sky scrapers and gingerbread hotels.

“Mr. Stark look, I made a working elevator!”

Bruce puts an electric system (fairy lights) through his

Steve and Bucky rebuild their childhood homes

Wanda is going all out, delicately hand placing every candy and covering the whole thing in edible glitter

Visions is pretty similar, but more sleek and modern than Wanda’s

And then there’s Thor, who’s totally missing the point and just DUMPING everything on top

“Hey Peter, I think yours is missing something.”

You string a long thread of white rope candy from his structure to yours.

“Webs!”

“You know… we can probably make a web-like consistency with some starch and frosting…”

That becomes a whole sticky project, but you eventually get it to work, connecting everyone’s gingerbread houses with icing webs

Steve and Bucky are TOTALLY participating in the classic christmas traditions they grew up on.

They sit quietly together in the living room, making paper chains and stringing popcorn

“Do you mind if I join you guys?”

they smile gently. “Of course not.”

You sit crisscross in front of the couch while they teach you

They tell you stories of christmases long, long ago, which feels kinda silly considering they’re talking like grandpas while not appearing much older than you

On Christmas eve, you’re all there except for Clint, who went home to his family

Youre all dressed in your pajamas from the christmas card

You make hot coco and cider

Wanda pops in some old vhs tapes and you watch the classics late into the night

“Alright you nutcrackers,” tony would say around midnight. “I know you want to stay up and catch Santa, but he’s not coming if you all stay awake.”

he really just wanted to go to bed

He sauntered off, calling for lights out.

Most of the boys wandered away to their rooms, leaving you, Wanda, Nat and Thor not quite ready for sleep.

“So,” you ask, taking a sip of coco, “Do you guys think we’re on the naughty list?”

Natasha Chuckled. “I’m not sure. Does beating people up count as naughty if you’re taking down the bad guys?”

Thor set his mug down on the coffee table, the bells on his sweater jingling. “Do not fear ladies, I will catch that nasty Krampus if he comes in to devour your soul. I believe you were doing the right thing.”

You all laughed, thinking he was joking. But he just stared at you.

“Thor… you realize Krampus and Santa aren’t… real?” Wanda asked.

He had a hard time swallowing that.

He ended up sleeping on the couch “just in case”

you woke up at 3 am to a loud clattering coming from the living room

You decided to check it out against your better judgement

There was Thor. Hammer in one hand, cookie in another.

Down the hall toward the elevator was a completely destroyed life-size nutcracker.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I thought I heard something by the elevator.”

“Congratulations. You murdered the Nutcracker.”

“I feared he was an accomplice of the holiday demon.”

“He’s been there for weeks!”

“He could have been a spy. Or possessed.”

“Goodnight Thor.”

Christmas Morning finally arrived

Everyone was sleeping soundly in their beds

Until Sam decided to be a little shit and wake everyone up at 7 am

He pounded on every. single. bedroom door.

“Y/NNNN. SANTA CAME TO TOWNNNNN.” he sing-songed

“No he didn’t.” You grumbled. “Thor killed him.”

“… I don’t know what that means.”

You all stumble out into the living room

Natasha took the time to actually run a brush through her hair and do her morning skincare

You and wanda were far too excited and skipped over that completely, barely remembering to brush your teeth

Tony looked the roughest - he had a silk robe draped over his pjs and looked like he was just awakened from a coma

Essentially, everyone was a little disheveled

Vision made everyone coffee before you started the gift exchange

You all sat around the coffee table in a circle so everyone could see each other

Bruce and Steve passed out the gifts from under the tree

it took a solid few minutes, there was a MOUNTAIN of presents

You went one at a time opening gifts

Some people think this is awkward, but you felt it was more genuine

this way, everyone can see the gift and the joy on the receivers face

as well as a million “thank you”s

It also gave time for the giver to explain why they chose the gift they did, whether it be something they remembered you said you wanted, something they knew you needed, or even just a simple “this made me think of you”

In the end, you loved all your gifts

And everyone loved what you got for them

But mostly, you were just happy to spend the holiday with your family

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blues824 · 6 months

Note

Hello again bestie coming back with the yandere pic request but for sebek feel free to do what you want to go feral bestie❤️.

The things I would let this man do to and for me…

Warning: This is a Yandere fic. I do not condone this behavior in real life.

Sebek Zigvolt

There was little time until he got in.

You were panting, out of breath from running back to your dormitory, and you immediately started barricading your front door. You knew it wouldn’t be enough, however, so you used whatever energy you have left to sprint to your room, where you further barricaded yourself into it.

“Y/N WHERE ARE YOU?!” A shout came from outside, scaring you out of your wits and making more tears fall from your eyes.

Why couldn’t he just LEAVE YOU ALONE?!

He already hurt your friends, you remember seeing Ace coughing up blood because of what he had done. Deuce had a blackened eye. Epel and Jack didn’t look much better. Of course, this was not without struggle. They did manage to deal some damage, but not enough to get him to stop chasing after you.

“Darling, there you are!”

Shit, you forgot about the window!

He was standing on a broom to float, and even though you sat on the opposite side of the room, you could see the figurative delusional hearts in his eyes. Quickly, he used his fist to punch out the glass pane of the window, and he quickly got into your room.

However, what he saw only made him angrier. He saw the armchair, the table, and the nightstand pressed against the door, and he immediately knew what you were trying to do.

“Y/N, were you trying to hide from me? Trying to keep me from you?! Well, you should’ve known that it wasn’t going to work!” He got closer and closer, shouting, making you curl up further and further into yourself.

You knew this wasn’t the Sebek that you had grown to care for. He was under the influence of a potion. A few students thought it would be a funny idea to prank the knight and get him to follow you around like a puppy. However, he went total psycho and possessive.

Earlier today, you sought out your friends to ask for their help in getting you away from him until the potion wore off. However, he managed to find you in Heartslabyul, where you were hiding out, and he lashed out and beat your friends to a pulp.

Jack fought bravely, managing to scratch him and punch Sebek in the nose, which broke something, as blood dripped from his nostrils. However, he lost in the end, but you ran while the fight was going on. You jumped into a random mirror and it just so happened to be yours.

And that’s kind of where you are now. You would have to personally murder those students later, but right now you have to deal with a yandere and angry Sebek.

“Darling, why are you cowering before me? I would never hurt you. I’m supposed to be your knight in shining armor…” He kneeled before, taking your wrists into his hands and making you reveal your face to him.

You were praying to whatever being resided in the heavens that Lilia had a club meeting and could hear what was going on in your room. You peered into the half-fae’s eyes, and his lips were closing in on yours.

“Remember that you will always belong to me, and only me, Y/N,” You tried to push him away, but he kissed you with the force of a cannon ball, even as you wiggled and squirmed beneath him.

Once he pulled away, his eyes were glowing a bright green, and he had a smirk on his face.

“Why are you doing this?!” You screamed at him.

“Because you somehow managed to make me fall in love with you: a human who won’t live for very long. I need to be there for every moment… to savor it until I join you in the stars. Then, I’ll still be obsessed with you because you are a mystery to me.”

Usually, something like this would make your heart flutter and you flustered, but right now it just filled you with a sense of dread. You had the entire confession planned out, and it would have been simple and normal, and he probably would have shouted his feelings for you.

But now, with him whispering, it felt wrong.

Really wrong.

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #twst sebek #sebek x reader #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek zigvolt x reader #twst sebek x reader #sebek #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst

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artcalledcinema · 29 days

Text

It’s All Daft In F Notes It’s all a draft in footnotes Hear tha bells It’s all daft in f notes Repeat again It’s all a vent in my head scape Clear my head It’s all death in sounds of f Play first It’s all a draft in footnotes Hear tha bells It’s all daft in f notes New now It’s everything and nothing in a life My heart stops Failure of blood fed oxygen Add two It’s all a vent in my head scape Clear my head It’s all death in sounds of f You need to feel it throughout music But feel it on screen death in tha cinema The sinema Rolling in that sound of f now On TV on the media Dear sinema! Stand up clap loud and cheer The itch upon me Hearing the f in you Bells The shooed away In walls me and you Deafening blinding-strapped in a wheel Dog and cats see cd’s The F’s around us all Just listen Oh hey there The toy out up Look at you D C’s Dogs & cats Policy of the stardard few Take a leak Please take a piss it’s just so damn cold out here my dear dc cd just pee oh leak fast it’s dying breath and you are the one wanting to go out side This bell rings The f notes run As like in baseball It’s slower paced For action It’s the Season Thank Mac’ For the last verse run Drink water and sing again Then? I need to piss Smoke a cigarette A drink another beer And guess what fucking what All in different Fucking rooms Ah yeah Different Fucking Rooms Well close to F above In texted picture Does screaming fall with death dying Notes If I could do it all from within one room hey I’m fucking crazy He’s daft Nah Sal, this is importance Barns the barns Intro to heads Said the Living All daft without heat I I I I - I I I I I I I I I I I I I I - I I I said through teeth, too top anyways All daft gnawing and softly scratching Unfixed bleeds against

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cecilysobsessions · 1 year

Text

DESTINY (m.) | zuko

↬ fem!reader, protector!reader & protected!zuko

↬ genre: fluff / smut

↬ one bed trope, reader & zuko are adults (i am not writing no minors), fake dating for like one second, suggestive language, mild swearing, awkward cannon zuko, submissive zuko, typos but pretend you didn’t see them

↬ word count: 6k

↬ summary: you are hired as fire lord zuko’s personal bodyguard. being the stubborn man he is, he doubts that you can protect him. you’re going to prove him wrong.

↬ a/n: i was upset i couldn’t find any sub!zuko fics so i said screw it and wrote one myself.

m.list

Destiny is a funny thing. And, of course, Fire Lord Zuko knows all about it. After firmly believing for so long that his destiny was to kill the Avatar, the world threw him a curve ball and he ended up joining the Avatar’s team to defeat his own father.

So when his palace staff appoints you, an experienced assassin, as his personal bodyguard, he rolls his eyes at your stupid destiny that just so happened to intertwine with his.

When he became the Fire Lord, Azula almost immediately tried to get rid of him so that she could steal the throne by hiring you to kill him. Of course, she would have done it herself if she weren’t thrown into an asylum after their Agni Kai. However, after one of his staff overheard the conversation between you and his sister, they offered you twice as much payment as Azula did, and you couldn’t refuse the offer. Besides, what was Azula going to do? At this point she had already been taken away.

Although it seems shallow and a low blow to betray Azula because of money, you had to do what you had to do to get by. Growing up an orphan on the streets wasn’t always so good on you financially. You discovered you had a talent for stealing things for money, and even though you weren’t proud of it, it was the only way to survive. After running into some gang members who had heard about your talent, you began to work for them. Eventually you went from stealing for money to killing for it. Although it was not the life you wanted, it was the life you lived.

So how did you end up coming to the royal palace as Zuko’s personal bodyguard with questionable work experience and blood on your hands? Simply put, you were skilled. As one of the few fire benders known to use lighting, you were pretty good at it. Being able to both generate and redirect it impressed those around you, and word went around with some saying you were even better at it than Azula.

•••

“A bodyguard? I’m not a child; I don’t need protection.” Zuko rolled his eyes, his voice echoing through the large meeting room.

“Nobody said you were a child,” his advisor clarified, his voice filled with anxiety. Zuko always had a short temper.

“I can protect myself just fine. Besides, what will people think if they see the new Fire Lord with a body guard stuck to my side all the time? They’ll think I can’t handle myself.” Zuko was offended that his staff thought he needed a personal bodyguard to be near him 24/7. Sure, he was young, but he is capable. He rolled back his shoulders in an attempt to calm himself as he tried to explain his thought process. He has never been good with words, and he was already losing his patience.

“No, the people will know that you are taking your job seriously. And besides, we found an excellent fire bender that is able to both generate and redirect lighting! She’s excellent, and—”

“You already hired one without asking me first?!” Zuko cut off his advisor abruptly, his loud and stern voice rising along with the wall of fire in the room. He was already fired up and upset at the thought of having a personal guard, but the fact that his staff had already hired one without telling him first set him off.

“Please, think about this.” his advisor’s calm and collected voice soothed his rising anger a bit. “As your staff, we are dedicated to protecting you and making sure you are safe at all times. The girl is a strong and smart bender and might even be able to teach you some things. Please, give her a chance and reconsider.” his advisor lowered his head in obedience and hoped for an answer.

After a moment of silence, with the only sound being the low flames in the room, Zuko took a deep breath and spoke. “Fine, but let me test her first. If I am able to knock her down, she leaves and you’re not allowed to hire a new one.”

•••

“He wants to fight me? Zuko?” you let out a fake laugh filled with arrogance as you stared down at his advisor.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” he corrected you. “And well, yes. He is against the idea of having a personal bodyguard and the only way he will accept it is if you are able to fight him and not be knocked down.” the man explained, gesturing to the training courtyard outside the hallway window in the palace.

You followed his eyes and focused in on the former prince in the courtyard, eyeing his grown out hair. While you understood that Zuko wanted to make sure you were as good as his advisor said you were, you found it ridiculous. As far as you knew, he was constantly being bested by his younger sister. Although you weren’t as good a bender as his sister, you knew for sure you were better than him.

“Alright,” you shrugged as you began to make your way to the courtyard, his advisor following your steps. “Whatever makes him feel better. Wanna bet I can knock him down in sixty seconds?” a smirk grew on your face. You were not cocky in your ability, but confident. If you were being honest, you could probably knock him down in thirty seconds.

“I’m sure you can, but I’m not betting with you on whether or not you can knock the Fire Lord down in a minute. That’s inappropriate!” his advisor shushed you.

•••

Although you had seen the man from afar, you never realized how short Zuko was. You were almost taller than him (not that it mattered, it just made you feel superior when you were taller than men).

“Your royal majesty,” you sarcastically greeted, your deep and exaggerated bow earned you a scowl from the Fire Lord. You were unsure of why you had chosen your first words to Zuko to be sarcastic and cocky, but you knew you wanted to show that you were a capable bender and not some little girl who knew how to throw a fireball.

“Your bending better not be as horrible as your attitude,” he stared into your eyes, unamused at what you thought would be taken as a joke. “Let’s get this over with. Try and knock me down, if you can, and I’ll reconsider having you protect me.” you might have imagined it, but it seemed like Zuko didn’t believe you could beat him. You smirked, excited to prove to the royal that he was wrong and you are in fact the better bender.

“Aw, you think I can’t knock you down. That’s cute.” you winked, distancing yourself from him and taking a fighting stance, readying yourself. “Well your majesty, I’m ready when you are. Take the first move too, I’ll let you have that.”

Zuko clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Only because I want to get this over with,” he widened his feet and took a stance, his arm coming down to shoot fire at the ground, coming towards your feet.

As he shot his first move, you took a deep breath, rolling your eyes to show him what you thought of his predictable and easy to avoid move. Avoiding it simply, you punched the air, sending red flames towards him. But what he didn’t know was what you were going to do next. Distracted by your punch of fire, you quickly generated lighting through your fingertips, taking a deep breath before you aggressively pointed your hand towards where he was standing, making sure to miss him on purpose. As quickly as you sent the first shot of fire, Zuko saw a large lighting strike heading his way. Too slow to react and try to redirect it, your strike burned the spot on the ground next to him, the blackened spot on the ground inches from where he stood.

“How,” he started in disbelief. “How did you generate lighting so fast?” his eyes widened as he looked at you. Still in shock from how quickly you created lighting and nearly killed him, you moved quickly, running towards him and jumping in the air and sending multiple strikes of fire at him through your hands. Still focused on how you created lighting through your fingertips with such speed, he held his arms up to block you. His attempt was sloppy and weak, and you knocked him down to the ground and stood over him.

Zuko grunted, sitting up quickly and looking through the bright rays of sun blocking his view of you. “No way,” his hand came up to shield his eyes from the sun rays.

“How long did that take me? Definitely less than a minute, right, Mr. Advisor?” you hollered over at the staff who was standing off to the side. You crossed your arms and stared down at the royal man below you.

“You lasted less than a minute in this fight and I barely tried. Hopefully you’re not like that in the bedroom, Fire Lord Zuko.” you smiled down at him crookedly, a laugh escaping your lips as you started to walk off. “I’ll see you when I officially begin tomorrow, sir.” you bowed once again exaggeratedly. You couldn’t help but beam, you already knew you were going to win, but you didn’t expect to feel this good. Zuko was a handsome and talented fire bender, so something about beating him at something he is good at made you smile.

•••

It has been three years since you began to work for Zuko and he has learned three things in those three years.

One. You never refer to him using his title as you should be doing because you apparently hate all “royal blooded bitches” as you say. But if Zuko was being honest with himself, he was pretty sure it was just because you simply didn’t want to. The staff around you always shot you looks when you yelled out his first name to grab his attention, but you never cared. He admired that about you. You didn’t care what other people thought of you, something Zuko himself always struggled with.

Two. You were an absolute thug. What did he expect? You’re an orphan with a criminal background and a couple bodies on your list of people you’ve killed. Past Zuko would’ve thought you were some low life peasant, but that’s not what he thought of you at all. With a questionable past himself, he knew not to judge you for your past actions and choices. After all, some of his own past choices were questionable.

Three. You wear your heart on your sleeve and have a massive crush on him. So naturally, you make it known. As someone who doesn’t have a lot of relationship experience, or experience with women in general, Zuko never knew how to respond to anything you ever said to him that was even the tiniest bit flirtatious. After the breakup with his ex Mai, he had told himself to focus on his people and to stay out of relationships. When you first made it known to him that you fancied him, he thought you were joking.

“So, Zuko,” you had begun while escorting him to a meeting. “People are asking if you’re courting anyone. You’ll need a Queen soon.”

“I’m not interested in that right now,” he sternly told you. “And besides, nobody’s interested in me at the moment.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong. I am.”

Zuko shook his head, pushing away the past conversation that confused him because did you actually like him and were you just casually confessing your feelings out of nowhere? Or did you only say all that because you pitied him?

She flirts with every guy here, he told himself (not true, but telling himself that helped convince him that you did not in fact like him even though you did and expressed that on multiple occasions). There was just no way you could ever like someone like him. He was easily upset, always busy with his royal duties, and only had one eyebrow. Literally. The scar his father gave him convinced him that he wasn’t handsome or in any way attractive. Who would ever want to love someone with a scarred face?

“Zuko,” you barged into his quarters, shutting the door behind you as you interrupted his inner thoughts. “Are you ready?” you stood there, feet firmly planted on the ground like you didn’t intend on going anywhere.

“Do you not know how to knock?” he stood and looked at you, gesturing to his small luggage sitting on his bed. “I’m ready.”

The two of you were going on a secret mission (actually it was just him and technically you were just coming along to protect him) to spy on an unknown enemy of Zuko’s, most likely someone who did not want him on the throne. He had wanted to do it himself, saying that he needed to get a good look at the person who wanted to dethrone him.

“Just because I’m your bodyguard, that doesn’t mean I’m also your servant,” you eyed his belongings. “Carry your own shit.”

•••

You and Zuko quietly arrived near the location in a close forest of the unknown person who was apparently planning to rebel and dethrone Zuko. Tightening your hood, you created a small flame in your hand and searched around for any sign of danger. It was midnight and the two of you were planning to camp here for the night before resuming the mission in the morning to search for the unknown person.

“Stay close to me,” you instructed in a whisper.

“I know that.”

“Then come closer to me, idiot.” you aggressively grabbed onto his sleeve, yanking him closer to you as you quietly stepped around the area of trees.

“Ow, can you please be gentle?!” he complained, attempting to pull away from your gorilla grip but failing.

“Zuko, shut the fuck up.” you warned.

“I don’t take orders from you.”

“One more word and I’ll burn the shit out of you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh yeah? Then—” in the middle of your banter with the Fire Lord, you saw a flame heading towards the two of you. Reacting quickly, you pushed Zuko behind your back and pushed away the flame with your hands before throwing a punch and firebending towards the threat.

“Who’s there? One step and I’ll burn you,” you threatened, eyes frantically searching the dark for a sign of life.

You felt Zuko behind you, chest pressed up against your back and heart rapidly beating against your body. He was nervous and scared and if you didn’t feel his panicked heartbeat, you wouldn’t know. You had to get out of there.

“Relax little girl, I only want what’s in that satchel.” you heard a gruff voice that came from a few feet in front of you. Zuko gripped the satchel around his body, debating if he wanted to just give it up to the intruder or help you fight him.

“You want it? Come and get it,” Zuko taunted, standing in front of you and kicking a flame towards the mysterious man.

“Zuko!” you warned. “Get behind me!”

“You might be my bodyguard, but I don’t always need your protection.” He spoke with determination in his voice as he stood firmly, his hands in the air and ready to firebend at any second.

“Your bodyguard is a woman?” the mysterious man cackled, jumping out of the dark and attacking Zuko with fire.

“Yeah, and what about it?” he shot back, easily defending himself against the wannabe thief. You stepped back, wanting to see how Zuko would protect himself. They began to fight close up, engaging in hand to hand combat, which you knew Zuko was good at. You had seen him at times training and were impressed. He easily overpowers the man, knocking him out with a swift kick and turns back to you, the unconscious man laying on the ground.

“If that were me, I would’ve beat you.” you commented.

“I know,” he responded, searching the man for any weapons. After patting him down, he takes a knife from the man’s pockets.

“That was hot,” you said, winking at him in the dark and hoping he’d see it. You grabbed the knife from him and started walking.

Apparently he didn’t see the wink. Wonder why. “Well yeah, fire is hot.” Zuko responded.

You did a mental facepalm. “I know fire is hot, you dumbass. I was talking about you being able to defend yourself. That was hot.” you repeated. How many times would you have to hit on this guy for him to understand you liked him?

“Oh…” he trailed off, unable to form his confusion into words. Why would you find that hot?

You sensed he didn’t know what to say, so you spoke first. “Let’s go to a nearby village and hope that we can find a place to stay there. It’s too dangerous to be out in the woods.

•••

Luckily the two of you wandered into a village not too far from the forest, and were able to find an elderly couple kind enough to house the two of you for the night.

“It’s so late, a young couple like the two of you shouldn’t be out and about at this hour.” the woman lectured after seeing the two of you walking down the street and hurrying you in her home.

Zuko wanted to correct the woman. “We’re not a cou—”

“Thank you for your kind hospitality. We really appreciate it. We were a little lost on our way and are traveling.” you cut him off abruptly and offered a kind smile to the lady. You grabbed his arm, squeezing it aggressively as a warning to shut up.

After showing you to their guest room, Zuko lit the only candle in the room, the low lighting barely bouncing off his porcelain skin.

“Why did you let her think that we’re a couple?” Zuko questioned, shutting the door behind him.

“Are you stupid? It’ll be suspicious if we tell her we’re just two people traveling together. It’s easier to just pretend we’re a couple so no one questions us.” you explained, but secretly you were happy the lady called you guys a couple.

You set your bag down by the door, taking in the small bedroom. There was an open window across from the door, the bright moonlight shining into the room. Other than a dresser and a chair, a small mat that was big enough to fit two people laid in the center of the room. Eyeing the singular mattress, the silence turned into an awkward moment of hesitation between the two of you. While Zuko probably felt awkward, you were happy. The thought of snuggling up to him claiming you’re cold as an excuse to be close to him crossed your mind. You were secretly excited.

“So I guess we have no choice but to sleep next to each other,” you started, trying to hide how happy you were feeling.

“What? I’m not going to sleep next to you!” he complained.

“Then where are you sleeping?” you questioned, gesturing to the singular mat. “There’s only one.”

“I’m sleeping on that mat. You can sleep on the chair.” he motioned to the uncomfortable looking chair in the corner.

“What?” there was no way you were going to let him take the mat for himself. “But I’m the woman! You should let me have it.”

He was already pulling out his sleeping bag. “You’re my bodyguard, so sleep on the chair and protect me. A man needs his beauty sleep.”

“Beauty sleep my ass,” you were beginning to grow tired and cranky and laid on the mat next to him. “It’ll be easier to protect you if I’m physically closer to you, don’t you think?”

Zuko’s eyes widened, his eyebrow furrowing in annoyance. “Whatever. Just don’t touch me.” he sighed in defeat, turning his back against you and pulling his blanket up and laying on his side his scar is on.

Your eyes trace the lines of his back muscles that are showing through his thinly made shirt. His shoulders are broad, hair covering his nape. Combing his hair behind him, you get a whiff of his shampoo. You can’t help but stare, even though he isn’t facing you. And suddenly you feel nervous. Too nervous to say anything, too nervous to do anything, too nervous to even breathe. The room is filled with silence, the only faint noise being the single candle in the corner of the room burning. What if you’re breathing too loudly? What if he can hear it? What if he thinks you’re a loud breather?

“No weird pickup line?” Zuko’s voice suddenly breaks the silence and your inner thoughts, his voice soft and low in a careful attempt to not wake the elderly couple.

Has his voice always been laced with such sultry and sexiness? Why was he suddenly making conversation? You thought he wanted to sleep, so why is he asking why you’re not flirting with him? Does he know you’re nervous?

“I thought you wanted to sleep,” a lame excuse, but some part of it was true.

Zuko’s body shifts and he turns on to his other side to face you, laying on his arm as his golden eyes search for yours in the dark. When he finally looks at you, you unintentionally hold your breath. The way he is looking at you makes you nervous. His eyes are staring into yours as if he’s all yours and you’re all his. As if you two are lovers and are sharing an intimate moment of eye contact before a kiss.

“The mattress is a little uncomfortable.” he whispers, his voice small and soft.

Was he already laying this close to you?

A beat of silence passes between the two of you, and his eyes refuse to break contact with yours. “What a spoiled royal,” was the only thing you said, you were feeling a little awkward and unsure of what to say. Normally you felt confident flirting with him, but something about tonight made it feel different.

“Of course you’d say that,” he lets out a small chuckle at your comment, his eyes moving down your body as if he is checking you out.

“You smell nice.” you say after a beat. You don’t know what came over you. Only that you thought it and wanted to say it.

“You’ve always been so straightforward,” he says and you’re not sure if he means that as an insult or compliment. “I admire that about you.”

Zuko admires you? You always thought he didn’t think much of you, but maybe you just thought that way because he never actually voiced his opinion of you.

“These last three years have been different,” he continued. “Good different. Ever since I took the throne I’ve been busy with my duties and haven’t had much time to relax. But spending time with you and getting to know you has been really… great.” Zuko has always been a little awkward, understandable since he often does not speak about his feelings.

“That’s it?” you laugh at his awkwardness. “Just great?”

“I think you’re amazing. Getting to know you has been so fun for me. And I’m starting to feel really comfortable around you. You make me feel safe.”

You make Zuko feel safe? Your heart swells at that compliment. “Well, I would hope so. I’m supposed to keep you safe, too.” you joke, and his eyes light up as he smiles. Or maybe it’s just the candle.

“I’m sorry I doubted your ability to protect me. You are a talented bender and an amazing bodyguard. But I want you to know, I will always be there to protect you, too.” he whispers, voice sweet like honey as he leans closer to you, his eyes moving down to your lips for just a moment before meeting your eyes again.

Zuko is even closer to you now, his face lit up by the moonlight. His tongue peeks out and he licks his bottom lip for a second, wandering eyes flickering down to your lips once again.

“You look beautiful in this light,” you comment, your eyes scanning his features.

“Are you saying I don’t look beautiful in any other light?” he asks, a teasing smile plastered on his face.

“Yeah, you only look this good when it’s almost completely dark and the only source of light is the moon.” he laughs at your response, a low chuckle escaping his lips.

“Can you see my scar?” he asks, insecurity in his voice.

“Yes, and it looks good. Scars build character.” As someone who’s received scars from living out on the streets and constantly getting into fights to rob people, you have a couple scars yourself. Although they may be an imperfection on the skin, all your scars tell a story and are unique to you.

Zuko wonders if you knew that he was feeling insecure about it. He has always been insecure about it since it’s a reminder of what his father did to him, and it’s never helped that he hears people always whispering about it in the palace.

“Do you have any scars?” he asks, unsure if the question is crossing a boundary.

“A couple.”

“Can I… Can I see them?” he anxiously asks you, his voice softer and more submissive. He is afraid you’re going to say no and afraid if you do that it will be awkward.

“Do you just want to see me naked, Zuko? You could’ve just asked.” you tease.

His eyes practically jump out of their sockets. His face flushes and his embarrassment travels down to his neck, red and and feeling even more awkward and nervous than before.

“W-What? That’s not what I meant! I was just—I didn’t mean for it to come off like that! I was only asking that because I’m insecure about my scar and—” Zuko keeps speaking, faster than before and more panicked. You chuckle, amused by how he tries to back himself up. He continues to rant and stutter a bit before you hold up your hand to shush him.

“You know, Zuko, for someone who doesn’t say much, you’re saying an awful lot right now. And you’re not even saying much. You're just rambling on and on.” you lecture, raising an eyebrow to prove your point.

“I’m just a little nervous,” he confesses.

“Why’s that?”

“Because. I can't tell if you’re joking with me when you say the stuff you say.”

“What do I say?”

“You know.”

“No, I don’t. What kind of stuff do I say to you?”

He sighs in frustration. He doesn’t want to say it. “Like, like when you called me hot… earlier.”

“You thought I was talking about the fire.”

“Yes, and then you said that you weren’t.” he says all confused; all you’re doing is trying to get him to stop beating around the bush and be straightforward, but it’s too nerve wracking for him.

“Because I wasn’t.”

“Right,”

“Right.” you agree.

“So, then you said—you said you were talking about me.”

“I did say that.”

“Yeah…” he trails off, unable to form a sentence.

“What’s your point? What are you trying to get at?” you’re teasing him. You know exactly what he wants to ask. You know he wants to ask if you have feelings for him, but he’s too afraid you’ll say no and he’s afraid to make it awkward.

Cute.

“I guess what I’m trying to ask is… if you, maybe, perhaps, possibly…”

“Like you?” you finish his question for him. Because if you don’t, he’ll take all night.

He stops himself from saying anything, face full of uncertainty and confusion. He stares at you, waiting—hoping that you will speak first. You have always led the conversations between the two of you, so now that he has to do it, he is lost and looking for help.

“What do you think?” you ask, turning the question on to him. You want to see what he will say.

“I…” Zuko trails off once more. “I would hope so.” His voice is hushed, low and subtle. If you weren’t listening so closely and weren’t so close to him physically, you wouldn’t have heard him. Through his whispering, he sounds hopeful, almost as if he is asking—begging you to feel something for him.

“You would hope so?” you repeat and he nods in response. “And why is that?”

“Because… I think I would feel upset if you didn’t like me.” he confesses, taking a deep breath. He looks as if he is trying to control his breathing. Is he nervous? Turned on? Or does he just have trouble breathing?

You smirk. “Why would you feel upset, Zuko?”

A faint pout forms on his pretty lips. His eyes droop and he looks like he is about to complain. “Are you really going to make me say it?”

You nod.

“I would feel upset because I like you. I like you more than just my bodyguard. I like you more than just a friend. I like you more than just a talented bender who can take my life with a single lightning bolt. I like you more than you can even imagine.” Zuko finally confesses, releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in.

“You like me? More than you like your honor?” you joke; you don’t want him feeling so tense around you.

“Yes. A lot more.”

“Good,” is your only response before you lean in. His lips are warm and soft and inviting. You feel your loud heartbeat through your ears and it feels as if the entire world has paused just for the two of you to kiss.

To him, your kiss is intoxicating yet sweet. Addicting, so addicting he wants more. Zuko has never felt aroused by a simple kiss until now. He tilts his head, hopeful to kiss more of you. He feels himself losing control, his thoughts are wandering yet he is still staying put, his hands to himself because even though he wants more, he doesn’t want to make the first move. You have always led the conversations, so he is hoping you will lead this kiss too. Trying to control his breathing through his nose, he can’t help but moan quietly into your mouth, heat reaching his cheeks in embarrassment. He feels you smirk against his lips, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. Your soft fingertips cup his cheek, gently caressing his scarred skin with a tender love he has never felt before.

His hands hesitantly make their way to your waist, gently wrapping around your middle as he pulls you in closer to him. Zuko presses himself against you, desperate to feel more than just your lips against him. You feel his heart beating hard against your chest, the right grip on your waist firm. He quietly moans against you, slight whimpers being held back as he pushes himself into you, desperate for more. Desperate for something, anything.

“Ah,” he quietly whimpers, his hand grabbing at yours and holding it to his chest. You flex your hand slightly, taking the opportunity to feel his pecs. Someone has been working out. “Please,” he begins. He sounds so desperate; you’ve never heard him like this before, but you like it. “More, I want more. Please, do something.”

Zuko wraps his legs around yours, pushing his hips forward to meet yours, his body desperate for more affection and more friction. He is starting to slip, becoming more and more desperate each passing second. You can feel him through the thin material of his pants, dick hard and pressed up against your body. You take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. Looking into Zuko’s eyes, you can see everything he is feeling in them. Aroused, in love, submissive, and breedable desperate.

“Would you like to see my scars?” you ask, earning a gentle smile from him.

“Only if you would like me to see.”

“I don’t mind.” you smile back, pulling away from him and lifting the blanket. Eyeing the wet spot on his crotch, Zuko quickly pulls part of the blanket onto his lap, embarrassed that you noticed.

“Sorry,” he says shyly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you grin, sitting up and lifting part of your shirt to expose your lower stomach. “See this?” you ask. Zuko sits up with you and leans in slightly to look at your lower stomach. He can’t tell if you have been stabbed or sliced, but whatever happened, the scar looks deep and painful. “Got it in an assisination mission.”

“It must’ve hurt,” he whispers, his fingertips reaching out towards it. He looks up at you, eyes asking for permission to touch your scar. When you nod, his fingers gently ghost over the imperfection, feeling it slowly.

“Well I killed him, so he was probably in more pain than I was.” you laugh, remembering the man you killed.

“Do you have any more?” His eyes are full of curiosity, eager to learn more about your past and about your body.

“I have one on my thigh,” you tell him.

Zuko eyes your pajama pants. “You don’t have to show me. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Oh, so you don’t want me to take off my pants?” you joke. “I see how it is…”

“No! Of course I would like to see. Please?” he smiles shyly, hoping you’ll say yes.

“Hmm, I don’t know… you don’t seem very desperate to see…”

Zuko shakes his head in defeat, giving into you as he leans in. He kisses your cheek sweetly, his lips slowly moving down towards your neck. “Please,” he whispers. He leaves slow and sweet kisses, his hand coming up to your thigh to caress it. His large hand glides upwards on your thigh, nearing where you want it the most. “Please, show me…” his hand stops, gripping your thigh.

“Since you wanna see that bad, I suppose I could show you.” you begin to unlace your pants.

“You just wanted to see me beg,”

“Well, yes. And it was nice. I quite enjoyed it.” you laugh, kicking off your pants so you’re wearing nothing but your underwear and your top. Zuko looks, stares, admires your beauty. He looks down at the scar, smaller than the one on your stomach, but it still looks painful.

“I got stabbed. Another assassination.”

“Did you end up killing them?”

“Yeah, so no biggie.”

Zuko is quiet, unsure of what he should do. Should he let you talk about it, or should he ask about it? You’re quiet and he doesn’t know if that’s because you want something else, or if you don’t want to talk about it. Unsure, he leans down, his lips leaving a gentle kiss on your scar. At the same time, he eyes your underwear, a wet spot forming where he wants to kiss the most. He looks up, feeling himself grow hard again.

“Even with your scars, you are still beautiful.” he whispers, leaning up to leave a kiss on your lips.

“I know that, Zuko. I never said I didn’t feel beautiful because of my scars.”

“Oh,” he feels so stupid. Why did he assume you felt ugly with all your scars? You were not like him. “Sorry.”

“If you’re so sorry, make it up to me.” you smirk and lift your shirt up, exposing your breasts to him.

His eyes begin to wander, trying to memorize the curve of your breasts and where your scar is on your stomach. Leaning down, he buries his face into your chest. He leaves a gentle kiss on one of your nipples, his hand coming up to massage the other. His entire hand wraps around your breast, squeezing and kneading as he opens his mouth around your nipple, sucking on the skin. He leaves wet kisses as his lips move down on your body, stopping to kiss your stomach scar. Laying you back down, he starts kissing your lower stomach as his fingertips tease the band of your underwear. Your hips jerk up, signaling to him that he needs to do something. Gently pulling your underwear down and off, he crawls between your legs, eager to please you.

You spread your legs, exposing your wetness to his lips. He leans in, tongue carefully licking at you. You let a breath out, tugging on his locks to where you need him the most. He moans, almost more excited than you are and sucks on your clit. When you pull his hair, desperate for him to be tougher, he moans again, his hips grinding against the mattress in an attempt to relieve himself. Zuko pulls away for a second, sitting up in front of you. He pulls at his pants, impatiently yanking them down as he frees himself. His cock springs upwards, and he moans in relief.

“Can I touch myself?” he begs, his voice a whimper as he leans back down, face in between your legs again.

You nod and he leans back into you again, his tongue working at your clit again and sucking on it. One of his hands grips your thigh, slowly making its way to your entrance. His other hand strokes himself, his hips bucking into his own hand as his other hand begins to tease your entrance. You’re practically dripping, hips bucking up into his face as he pushes himself into you. Zuko’s fingers rub at your entrance, a mix of his saliva and your arousal allowing him to push a finger into you. He moans into you, his finger curving as he strokes himself faster. His hips desperately fuck into his hand as his lips desperately suck on to your clit. He moans, excited to please you as he also pleases himself. Feeling him moan and whimper against you and seeing him so desperate for his release he touches himself has you gripping his roots and pulling him into you. Your grip on him is strong and hurts, but arouses him more and his moans begin to grow louder.

“Ngh, fuck,” he pants, his hand stroking his dick. “You taste so good.”

“You’re too loud, Zuko,” it’s late at night and the elderly couple housing the two of you might hear and that would be absolutely mortifying.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” he moans again, pulling away to bite down on his lip. His hair has been messed up and there is a blush on his cheeks, his lips wet with your arousal and his saliva.

He leans down again, inserting a second finger and curling them, making you let out a loud moan. You cover your mouth with your other hand as the other one continues to grip his hair. He licks at you in desperation, eager and determined to make you orgasm. His long and thick fingers move in and out of you as he continues sucking at your clit, licking and tasting it as you move your hips towards him faster.

“Ahh,” he whimpers again, moaning against you as you desperately buck your hips upwards, the vibrations of his moans and the sweet sound of his whimpers sending you over the edge. Your legs wrap around his neck and he continues to finger you, his own hips moving faster as he fucks himself. The moans you let out make him move faster, desperate to hear you as he pleasures himself. He shakes, thrusts staggered as he finishes off of your moans and your own orgasm. The only sounds in the room are your heavy breaths and Zuko’s kisses he leaves on your thigh and stomach again, making sure to kiss your scars as well.

“So…” he begins. “Do you like me? Or….”

“What?” you ask, out of breath.

“Well, you never said if you do or not.” he questions, sitting up and reaching for his bag to look for something to clean you up.

“Oh my god,” you laugh, leaning in to kiss him. “I thought it was obvious.”

“It’s not.”

“You’re so clueless,” you smack his head playfully. “Yes, I do. I wasn’t lying the previous times I hinted at it.”

“Good,” he breathes a sigh of relief before kissing you again.

•••

“I told you that you were too loud!” you nag Zuko, angrily shoving his shoulder as the two of of you walk down the road in the middle of the night after being kicked out of the elderly couple’s house.

“Me? You were the one who wouldn’t shut the fuck up!” he rubs his shoulder in an attempt to soothe it. You were much stronger than you looked.

“No stupid, that was you! You were louder than me and got us kicked out! See what you did!” you yelled.

“Oh, shut up! You liked it!” Zuko fires back, rolling his eyes.

••• a/n: bye i didn’t even mean to write smut it j happened 💀

m.list

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cozage · 1 year

Note

Hello!! I love your writing and would love to see a follow up of the captured by marines ask where they go and rescue the reader :)))

A/N: This is the last of the Captured by Marines/Rescued by Pirates short fics! Luffy’s and Law’s were posted earlier today, check them out :)

Characters: female reader x Ace

Cw: angst, torture, reader in peril

Total word count: 3k

Part 1

Rescued by Pirates - Ace

It wasn’t long before he saw the Navy ships, and he smirked to himself. How easy it had been to get to them. He wondered if the Marines even knew who they had, if they knew what kind of death sentence that had placed upon themselves by taking Whitebeard’s crew. By taking you.

He heard cannon balls splash around him and knew he had been spotted, but he wasn’t concerned. His Striker was too fast and too small to be caught by a stray firearm.

Watching the Navy scramble around like that on the ships made him laugh. Actually laugh out loud. So loud that he knew his crewmates could hear it. That you could hear it.

The navymen on the ships took aim and fired to no avail. He wondered if they knew it was a lost cause. Not that it mattered. They should’ve known he would come after them. They really should’ve prepared better.

He lept off his Striker and jumped up to the deck, smirking at all the wide-eyed marines. Everyone just stood there unmoving for a second, shocked by his sudden appearance.

“Hey there fellas, you wouldn’t happen to know where my crew mates are, wouldya?”

His question nudged them into action, and they all began firing. The bullets went right through him, and he stood there, letting them empty their rounds of ammo. Once they were done, he shrugged and ran past them down the stairs.

His division had taken a few ships like this hostage, and he was familiar with the layout. He didn’t worry himself with the Marines staring at him. They’d all be at the bottom of the ocean soon enough, but he couldn’t sink a ship with his crew on it.

“Ace!!” He heard a small group of about five men cry out, finding them locked behind a cell of sea prism stone. He cursed the substance, but smiled at the men regardless.

“Hey guys, howya been?” He looked around, but you weren’t there, and his heart sank a little bit. This would be a lot easier if he knew you were here fighting with him. “Any idea where the key is?”

“The vice admiral!” One of them shouted.

“Be back soon!” He tipped his hat and ran back up the ship to find the keys.

He found the Vice Admiral holding the keys out over the edge of the ship. The man looked very nervous, and Ace knew he was a coward without even speaking to him.

“Give me the keys, and I’ll spare your life. How’s that?”

“No way,” the man’s voice trembled as he spoke. “I don’t make deals with pirates.

Ace didn’t argue. He just held out his fingers to create crosshairs aimed at the man.

“Listen here,” Ace said, his voice deadly serious. “I don’t have time to play around. Either you give me those keys and I let you and your men go, or I send everyone on this ship to a watery grave. Your choice.”

It turned out that Ace had picked the right ship, because the vice admiral was nice enough to give him the keys for every jail cell on every ship. Ace ran back down the stairs with the keys in his hand, and the feeling of success on his shoulders.

He unlocked the cell and his crewmates rushed to hug him, but he waved them off. “Tie up all the marines and hold them hostage. Once we have everyone, we’ll put them on one ship and let them go.”

The pirates look at him like hes crazy, but he shrugs. “I got the keys without a fight. That was the trade off. I’m a man of my word.”

The second ship was as easy to take as the first, but you weren’t on that ship either, and Ace was starting to feel nervous. Three ships with Marines this weak shouldn’t have crushed the third division of the Whitebeard Pirates so badly.

The third ship was quickly taken over as well, and you were still nowhere to be found. His crew mates must have sensed his panic, because finally someone spoke up.

“They took her separately since she had devil fruit powers,” a crew mate said. “They said she was too dangerous to keep on these ships. She’d be..” the man trailed off, scared to finish.

“What? What’d they say?” Ace said, trying to rush him.

“They said she’d be good bait.”

“Bait…” Ace could feel his skin catch fire at the words, and his crewmates backed away from him. He wanted to destroy the small fleet of ships they had just captured, and he struggled to keep his cool in the moment.

“Get on the other ship. Now. Sail back to Whitebeard.” He handed Whitebeard’s Vivre card to a man and stood as they all scrambled away.

He weighed heavily what to do next, and forced himself to clear his head before he decided what to do. Once the Navy ship with Whitebeard’s pirates were out of sight, he stripped two of the Navy officers of their clothes and put one outfit on, saving the other for later. He burned their main sail, and made sure all of the men were tied up tight on one ship. He took the small transponder snail with him, and then as he left, he set the second, abandoned ship ablaze without looking back.

He moved fast, following your vivre card again. He hadn’t even thought to look at it while he was freeing the others on the ship, but it wouldn’t have mattered. He couldn’t have left his family there, in the hands of the marines and sentenced to Impel Down. Unlike with you, he would’ve had no way to find them again, and they’d be gone forever. He knew he had made the right choice, but it still hurt to know you had been moving further away from him rather than getting closer.

He sailed through the day and into the night before he saw lights of other ships. He quickly extinguished his own boat light and watched the ship closely. He wanted to go in as wild as the fire he created, but he was certain the members of this crew would be significantly stronger than the last ones he encountered, and he needed to get you out alive.

As his Striker crept up to the side of the ship, he was surprised by the lack of watchmen. He was expecting infiltration to be harder than this. And then his Striker tapped the side of the boat.

“Did you hear that?” Ace heard a voice from above, and he silently cursed himself.

“Hear what?” An older voice huffed.

“I dunno. Sounded like something hit the boat, I think.”

“I think you’re hearing things, Cadet.”

“We should probably check it out.” The voice moved closer, and Ace readied himself for a battle.

“I told you kid,” the older voice spoke. “The Captain said that the Whitebeard Pirates wouldn’t come until a public execution was set. They’re going to take this time to rally their forces, and they’ll attack when it’s a public event. It’s much less impressive to kidnap some girl from a Marine boat, but to fight the entire Navy while the world is watching? That's the spectacle the pirates will want.”

“How do you know?” the kid asked.

“I was around when Roger was executed-” Ace flinched at the name. “-and it was the same thing. Pirates everywhere, waiting for someone else to make the move. But nobody ever did, and he was executed because of it. That won’t happen again though. They’ll take a stand. They’ll make a show of it.”

“You were there for Roger’s execution?” Fascination filled the young man’s voice, and Ace rolled his eyes. “What was it like?”

“Ha! Let’s go grab a drink and I’ll tell you all about it.” The older man’s voice was paired with footsteps leading away from the railing, and Ace tied his Striker to the ladder and climbed up it.

He peeked his eyes over the railing and only saw two other men on deck, other officers who were probably on watch. They were facing away from him, and he silently jumped over the railing and landed on the deck.

He smoothed out his Marine uniform and straightened his cap, trying his best to blend in.

This ship was similar to the last three he had taken over, and he had to resist running downstairs to find you. Instead, he walked around, trying to figure out where the keys were. He found a board with a schedule for watch duty on deck and watch duty for the prisoner.

As he was staring at the board, another man came up to him. He looked to be about his age.

“You wouldn’t want to take my shift watching the bitch, would you?”

Ace’s anger flared up, but he smothered it quickly to keep up the appearance.

“I don’t know, man. When do you have to watch her?” He said, eyeing the man next to him.

The man was about as tall as Ace, but extremely skinny. It looked like he was too tall for his own body, like he hadn’t filled out his own skin yet. He had bright orange hair and a crooked smile, and just looking at him made Ace want to punch him in the face. Though Ace wasn’t sure if that was because of the man’s comment about you or his appearance.

The man chuckled. “In thirty minutes, and I'd love to go back to bed. Had a bit too much to drink, if you know what I mean,” the man chuckled, and Ace joined along halfheartedly until the man continued. “Last thing I want to deal with in the middle of the night is that chick.”

Ace raised his eyebrow. Of course you were giving them hell. “She that bad, huh? Have you seen her?”

“Just when she got on the ship. She was kicking and screaming until they put a gag in her and knocked her around a few times.”

Ace gritted his teeth. “Sounds feisty.”

The man snorted. “You can go find out for yourself just how feisty she is in about thirty minutes if you want.”

“You’ve intrigued me,” Ace said, pretending to be casual. “I’ll take it if you switch for my shift tomorrow.”

“Deal.” The man held out his hand, and Ace took it. “I’m Rogan.”

Ace nodded. “Nice to meet you. Chance.”

“Well, you’re really doing me a solid, Chance. I’ll see you in the morning.” And with that, the orange-haired marine walked off to bed.

Thirty minutes. Ace had thirty minutes to keep a low profile and find the key to your cell, and then you would be free. He grabbed some coffee from the cafeteria to rejuvenate him, and got a small snack as well. He had been fighting and sailing for over a day, and the exhaustion was starting to catch up with him.

He must’ve dozed off at some point, because a loud speaker jolted him awake to alert a shift change. He cursed himself, now he wouldn’t have time to find the keys to your cell.

He walked down the stairs to the jail cell, and found another man waiting for him.

“Here,” he said, shoving a rod at Ace. The man’s eyes flicked nervously back to the cell behind him. “If she acts up any more just stick her with that.”

The man started up the staircase and then turned back to Ace. “Just some advice: Don’t taunt her. She’s…” he paused, and his eyes shifted back to the cell where Ace guessed you were. “Just don’t acknowledge her. The other guy should be here soon, and I know we’re supposed to only guard in doubles, but I can’t take it anymore.”

The guy disappeared from sight, and Ace heard your voice chirp up from behind him.

“If you think you can subdue me, you’re wrong.” He could hear the animalistic growl in your voice, and he shuddered to think about what you had been through while you were parted.

“Oh,” Ace laughed, turning to face you. “I think I can handle you just fine.”

He could see your eyes shift when you caught sight of his freckled face, hatred instantly turning into relief.

Your eyes flicked to the doorway to make sure nobody was there, and then you looked back at him and smiled. “That Marine outfit suits you,” you said, your voice returning to the sweet sound he was used to. “I get why Garp wanted you to live this life.”

Ace laughed loudly, and then clamped a hand over his mouth as you both looked towards the doorway.

“I don’t have the key to get you out,” he said disappointingly.

“The next guy who comes will,” you said. “He should be back in about 10 minutes I think.”

Ace raised an eyebrow at you, and you smiled wickedly in return.

“They think I’m weak because I’m a girl,” you scoffed, and you saw his lips tug upwards at the corners.

“It’s a dangerous thing to do, underestimate a pirate.” He winked at you, which made you erupt into a fit of giggles.

“Quiet down now, spitfire,” Ace chided back to you, and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m going to sleep,” you said, leaning your head back against the wall. “Wake me up when it’s time to move.”

Ace turned away from you, watching the door. He waited for someone to come, and finally the door opened a bit.

“She’s finally asleep, huh?” a hushed whisper came from the door.

Ace nodded, glancing back at you slumped against the wall.

The man smiled sinisterly, and Ace’s entire body tense watching his expression.

“Good,” the marine hissed. “Hand me that electro-rod. I need to teach her a lesson.” He grabbed the keyring around his belt loop and unhooked it as he walked towards your prison cell.

So that’s what Ace had in his hands. An electrified rod. He had seen them used before, but he had never been hit by one.

Ace frowned at the man. “I thought we weren’t supposed to-”

“Shut up, boy,” the man snapped. “She mocked my honor. I’ll be damned if I let a pirate laugh at me, and a female one at that.”

He unlocked the door, and held his hand out for the rod. “Give it here, and get over here if you want to see a show.”

“No,” Ace said, pressing the button to activate the rod. “I don’t think I will.”

The man looked at Ace with a baffled expression, and Ace jabbed at him with the rod quickly. It was such a swift and sudden movement, the man didn’t have time to react, and he fell backwards.

Your eyes snap open and your throw your hand around the man, using the chain on your cuffs to act as a clothesline around the man’s neck.

Ace stands over the both of you with a dark look in his eye. “You made a mistake, and it’ll cost you now.”

He jammed the prod into the man again, and you covered his mouth to muffle his screams.

“You underestimated her.” He prodded the man. “You underestimated me.” Another prod. “And you underestimated the Whitebeard Pirates.” This time, he smacked the man with the blunt rod, and you felt the marine go slack in your arms, unconscious.

He grabbed the key ring and unlocked your shackles quickly, his eyes watching the door.

“Ace!” You cry out, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a hug. “You’re so scary!” He can hear the smile on your lips, your voice full of pride.

You both wrap the Marine in the shackles and relock the door to the cell. Ace looked back at you, watching the man with hatred.

“What did you do to him?”

You smiled slightly. “He’s just sensitive about some things, that’s all.”

Ace gave an impressed whistle, but didn’t ask anymore questions. “You ready to do this?”

You look at him and raise an eyebrow. “You think this is gonna be hard?”

“Not with you by my side.” He gave you a quick kiss on the lips. “The hard part is over.”

He was right. The few marines that you encountered were quick to take down. It made you nervous. You kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it never did. You all dropped onto his Striker without anyone being alerted of your absence.

“The Marines I heard earlier said they weren’t expecting Whitebeard to make an appearance until an execution was set,” he explains, reading your thoughts. “Makes sense why this was so easy.”

“They only took me separately because I was a devil fruit user.”

“They had no idea who they captured,” he said, and he roared his Striker to life. “Stupid mistake on their part.”

You hum in agreement at that. “Still seemed too easy,” you said, frowning.

His arms wrapped around you, and he kissed your cheek. “You’re so used to fighting powerful foes, you don’t know what to do when we catch a break.”

He started to take his Marine outfit off, but you stop him. “Keep it on,” you say with a wink. “It suits you.”

He smirks, looking down at himself and then at you. “I’ve got an extra one if you want it.”

You scrunch your face. “No thanks.”

“Fine, but I’m taking off the hat.”

He took his Navy cap off and placed it on your head, and then he unbuttoned his shirt, but kept it on for you. For now. Ace opened a side compartment of his Striker and found his hat, placing it back on his head, feeling a lot more comfortable.

“Perfect!” You said, pulling him in again for another sweet, long kiss.

#one piece #one piece scenario #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #portgas d ace #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace x reader #✧˚ace✧˚

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uzurakis · 2 days

Note

HERE TO SEND YOU BLUELOCK HEAD CANNONS! >:D

Can you do headcannons of the guys and how they would be like if they were teaching us how to play soccer? Hope this is interesting for you ^^, if you're interested to make them thanks in advance!

TEACHING YOU SOCCER?!

featuring: michael kaiser. itoshi rin. oliver aiku. isagi yoichi. bachira meguru.

n. yees darling, i was invested to write this (it's a challenging one because i don't really play soccer myself). hope i nailed it though, thank you to u too <3

MICHAEL KAISER. "nice shot!" kaiser exclaimed, clapping you on the back. "but don't get too cocky, mein liebling."

"learned from the best, i guess," you teased, nodding toward kaiser. "after all, my boyfriend's the world's number one striker, hmm?"

kaiser's eyes widened in mock surprise, a beam spreading across his face. "well, when you put it that way," he said, puffing out his chest with pride and sliding back his golden locks. "i suppose i am pretty amazing."

"ah, but if i'm the world's number one striker," he continued, trying to tease you with words, "then that must mean you have to kneel before me, right?"

you lifted an eyebrow, unable to stop snickering at his exaggerated claim. "huh, is that so?" playing along with his joke. "i guess i'll have to remember to bow down to the soccer king himself."

the guy grinned, clearly enjoying the playful exchange. "that's more like it," now his voice filled with mock superiority, typical kaiser. "but don't worry, i'll be a generous king."

ITOSHI RIN. "fine, i'll try my best, but just so you know, i'm not really good at teaching," rin confessed, feeling apologetic because he’s not used to teaching others. and now, his girlfriend wants to learn how to play soccer.

rin took a deep breath, trying to muster up some confidence as he began to explain the basics of dribbling. "uh, alright, first, dribbling. just try to keep the ball close to your feet for now," he instructed, a bit hesitant.

"oi, dont look at me, look at the ball," he reminded you. "sorry," you chuckled, truly didn't realize you weren't paying attention. come on, just look at him. "if i’m being honest, you look really hot like this," you teased, but, it’s true though!

rin's cheeks flushed slightly at your comment, but he quickly regained his composure. "focus," he replied. though there was a hint of annoyance, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at rin's face as he continued to give you instructions, his cheeks flushed slightly from your earlier comment.

suddenly, rin's voice broke through your reverie, snapping you back to reality. "i said focus!"

OLIVER AIKU. "keep your eye on the ball and follow through with your kick," aiku instructed while you attempted to pass the ball to him.

even when you struggled or made mistakes, aiku remained patient and supportive, offering gentle guidance to help you improve. "try to angle your foot a bit more next time," he suggested, as you missed the mark with your pass. "you're doing great, sweetie. just keep practicing."

by the end of the session, you were exhausted but thankful for aiku's patience and support. he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, a proud smile on his lips.

"you're making progress, sweetie," he soothed, genuine and affectionate. "with a little more practice, you'll beat me out here."

BACHIRA MEGURU. "okaaay, let's start with some dribbling drills," he said, bachira was overjoyed since this meant he had another friend to play soccer with. "try to keep the ball under control as you move around me, kaay?"

you nodded, determined to give it your best shot. as you began to dribble the ball, you stumbled a bit, but bachira was quick to offer a push. "nice job, baby! you're getting the hang of it," he cheered, clapping his hands in support.

with each effort, you gained confidence and dribbled past bachira with greater ease. bachira congratulated you on your small wins every time you successfully escaped him. "woah, that was awesome! baby, i’m so happy!" he exclaimed, giving you a high-five.

"great effort, babes! keep it up, and you'll get it," he encouraged, his words filling you with determination. “lets keep playing together!”

ISAGI YOICHI. "hey, it's okay," isagi said gently, stepping closer to you. "here, let me show you."

he moved behind you and gently guided your legs into the correct position, his touch firm yet gentle. "see? keep your body low and your touches light," he explained, moving your legs in rhythm with the ball. "you've got this, angel.”

with isagi's guidance, you began to feel more confident, dribbling the ball with increasing control. whenever you made a mistake, your boyfriend always offered gentle correction and encouragement.

"nice try, but try to keep the ball closer to your feet," he would say, his tone encouraging. "like this," demonstrating the correct form before guiding your legs to mimic his movements.

@uzurakis

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florencemtrash · 4 months

Text

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Ten

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Warnings: Mentions of cannon-typical violence. Azriel and Y/n have a late night conversation. Fluff and other stuff.

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

“Gwyn says hi by the way.”

Azriel choked on his coffee, bitter flavor rising in his throat. Nesta sauntered into the kitchen, cool eyes glaring at the back of his head. Your familiar silhouette was nowhere to be found.

Not here. His shadows whispered. With Rhys.

“Calm down you idiot.” Nesta’s voice dripped with unrestrained contempt as she poured herself a cup and sat. His tan skin glistened with sweat after his morning training session, inky tattoos splashing across his bare chest and trailing over his shoulders, down his back, and up to his neck. In the cloudy afternoon light it was difficult to tell where his shadows ended and where his tattoos began.

“Y/n’s not here. You’ll have to walk around half-naked some other time.”

Azriel winced. “That isn’t what—”

Nesta brushed him off with a wave of her hand, eyes narrowing over her mug. Azriel felt like a bug pinned down under a microscope. A crushed butterfly about to hang.

“How is Gwyn doing?” he asked gingerly, casually.

“She’s fine. Believe it or not, the world did not end when you broke up with her.”

Again he flinched. “I’m sorry, Nes,” he whispered rather pathetically.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to. But you already know that.”

There seemed to be no shortage of people he needed to apologize to: Elain, Mor, Emerie, Gwyn, even Lucien — especially Lucien. His cheeks burned to think of the absolute mess of things he’d made. Feyre had been the quickest to forgive him for the debacle with Elain and Gwyn. But as Cassian had mentioned at dinner, there was a reason everyone was staying away from the River House, and the reason was him.

Two years ago he’d challenged Lucien Vanserra to a blood duel for Elain’s hand. It had felt so right at the time, so obvious: three sisters for three brothers. But it was only when their deaths had loomed over her head with shocking reality that Elain realized what a horrible mistake she’d made. The mistake they’d made together.

“Call it off,” she’d commanded him, blocking Lucien’s bloody, heaving body. The son of Autumn’s sword had been kicked away, scraping across the rock with an eerie scream and disappearing over the cliff edge. But Elain had stayed, soft brown eyes begging, “Do this and I will never forgive you. What we did… it wasn’t right. It was a mistake.”

A mistake, she’d called it. Years of silent longing and bare bone brushes of their hands in dark hallways. All a mistake. Those words had haunted him. They’d chased him into Gwyn’s kind arms where he once again mistook the friendship he felt towards her as love and broke her heart in the process. Add that to his lackluster response to Mor’s coming out and… well he had a lot of work ahead of him.

He hoped he would be forgiven in time, but that didn’t mean he’d twiddle his thumbs until that day came. He scoured Prythian’s publishers for new releases of adventure, mystery, and romance books — the raunchier the better — and they showed up every month at Cagniv Library like clockwork. The priestesses still thought it was part of a trade bargain with the Day Court. He’d sent Elain and Lucien plenty of letters and gifts, but either they weren’t being opened or they weren’t bothering to respond. He wouldn’t blame them either way. As for Mor and Emerie, they were gone with the wind, too busy infiltrating lands and enjoying an extended honeymoon on the continent to bother with him.

That cold stillness in Nesta’s eyes transformed into pity. It was hard not to be reminded of her own failures when she looked at him. Seeing him angry. Watching him crawl into the darkest corners of himself and burn every bridge he crossed had been a shock to Nesta’s system. A plunge into freezing waters that brought pain and clarity.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Just give them time, Az. They’ll come around. If they did it for me, they’ll do it for you.” “I think our situations are rather different.”

“I don’t.”

“You didn’t try to kill anyone.”

She grimaced. “I came close.”

He stayed silent for a long while. He washed his cup. He dried it. He put it in the cupboard.

“Can you—can you please not tell Y/n?” he begged. His voice was small and quiet. He’d been a fool in the past and made terrible decisions in the name of love. Mor, Elain, and Gwyn. They’d all lived more in his mind than in his heart — people he could never fully grasp, and therefore never lose. They’d been safe. Easy.

It didn’t feel that way with you. You felt solid and warm, even if he’d only touched you once. You felt more real to him than anyone else. You felt like someone he could actually have. Which meant he could lose you before you’d even become his to lose.

“You can’t keep her in the dark forever. Not about your history, not about the bond. If you’re going to learn anything from your brothers, learn that.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I just want to get it right this time.” He had to get it right this time. “I want her to fall in love with me because she wants me, not out of some sense of obligation. I want…” I want to be worthy of her.

Nesta shook her head, a laugh escaping despite her best attempts to stifle it. Azriel looked at her like she’d gone mad.

She giggled again. “It’s funny. For a male as handsome and desirable as you, you have the worst fucking luck with women. The Mother must have a twisted sense of humor.”

Maybe she did. But Azriel was still enough of a romantic to hope that he had learned from his mistakes, and that his bad luck would end with you.

You shoved the notebook off Rhysand’s desk, loose papers flying out like uncoordinated doves.

“I told you notetaking was a futile effort.” The High Lord didn’t even look at you, too busy searching for invisible dirt beneath his manicured fingernails.

You groaned and dropped your head against the book he’d handed you two hours before.

Rhysand had to smile at your frustration. It was a wholly different experience teaching you magic compared to teaching Feyre. With Feyre, her greatest barrier had been her lack of knowledge (and her hatred of him at the time). She’d been thrust into the world of fae without preparation, but it had left her malleable and adaptable. It was like teaching a newborn how to walk — a mind that could absorb more because it knew so little.

But you knew too much. You could spout off magical theory at the drop of a hat. You were a pedagogical master with a thousand mnemonics to your name. You were the first to wake in all of Velaris, making your way to the Library before bodies could fill the streets, and you only returned when the crowds had either turned in for the night or gone out to drink until daybreak. You swallowed every history book on the Night Court, Clairvoyants, daemati, and death gods until you felt untethered from the earth — until your mind began to float outside your body, buzzing with thoughts that never went away.

But none of that mattered. Your power was an immovable object that couldn’t be controlled by logic or studying.

You shoved against that power now.

“Good,” Rhysand nodded, leaning against the window, “You’re getting better at it.”

He lingered in your mind, hovering over the depths of your emotions and memories like a bird ready to break water. It had taken some time before you felt comfortable with the intrusion. Your first lesson together, Rhysand’s presence in your mind had made it impossible to focus. Panic had seized your mind and your body until you could do nothing more than brace your hands and feet against the chair’s leather upholstery. You could have sworn you saw a head of silver hair to your left. The gentle pitter patter of rain had sounded like dripping blood.

It wasn’t like that anymore. Henna had left you with a useful skill — you could wind your consciousness around Rhysand and keep him there, suspended in that indescribable space where your thoughts lay so he could do no more damage than you permitted him.

Through your mind he felt the narrowing of your power. You imagined it like a blanket wrapped around your body, suffocating but familiar. It was this power that laced your skin and made contact with others so hard. You imagined the fabric shortening, creeping up your arms and legs, curling around your torso and squeezing like a snake. Inch by inch you tightened it around you, burying it within your chest instead of carrying it openly like a wound.

You held a music book between your hands — Nyx’s to be exact. The little Lordling showcased a certain aptitude for the piano his father could only dream of, and being as young and protected as he was, the worst kind of emotion imbued within its pages was agitation. You could hear one of the ballads written within it as clearly as if Nyx was sitting beside you plucking out the melody.

Tighter. Tighter. Tighter. You swallowed your power. Pulled what was outside inwards. Slowly but surely the music faded away until the book was as all books should be — silent.

Sweat beaded your brow. This was the most difficult part — not tuning out the music, but keeping the volume at zero.

Rhysand checked his watch. Waited. Checked it again.

You lasted thirty minutes before your power burst out along your skin once more like a thousand prickling needles. You shuddered, half-disappointed, half-grateful that you could hear the melody again.

Rhysand clapped his hands, slow and proud. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room was dangerously close to five bells. Rhysand nodded.

“Perfect timing. We’re done for today.”

“I can go for longer,” you pleaded.

“I know you can.” Rhysand pushed off the wall, polished leather boots gleaming. He was wearing his Illyrian leathers this time, the scent of wind still clinging to his skin after a visit to the northern war camps.

Old Illyria lasted thousands of years. The clans used to flow up and down the Steppes, following the tundrabeast that lay claim to those mountainous regions and were said to speak for their god Ramiel — Starbreaker, Night Herder — after whom the mountain is named. They don’t move with the cold winds anymore, even if they’ve kept their names: Ironcrest, Bloodborn, Windhaven, Seawhip, Hawkseed, Timberbane, and a dozen others. And they don’t make sacrifices, although the Blood Rite might be a close—

Rhysand rapped his knuckles on the desk to grab your attention and splayed his fingers wide. “I also know that the moment I dismiss you, you’ll scamper off to the Library to work until you can’t see straight.”

You shifted in your seat. “I like it there.”

“That’s besides the point. If you keep going at this pace you’ll burn out. Then you won’t be able to help anyone. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly. You hadn’t thought he’d noticed. “I know what it feels like to burn out and it’s not going to happen anytime soon. I promise.”

Rhysand suppressed the urgent need to roll his eyes as you gathered your things and walked out the door. “And here I thought I worked too much,” he muttered beneath his breath.

You carried Henna’s journal tucked within your new Librarian robes — black with ivory detailing and wide sleeves that narrowed at the wrists. You kept a hand on it during late nights at the Library. You ate with it propped open, black splotches swimming across the page like worms. You slept with it beneath your pillow.

But alas, it would seem the book was going to make you work to wring meaning out of every odd symbol.

You were muttering to yourself as you walked back and forth in front of the fireplace. You’d effectively commandeered one of the reading rooms on the seventh floor, leaving the library only when required for Rhysand’s lessons. Helion’s most recent letter lay open on the table with Cherp’s resting just beneath it. A map hung crooked on the wall, four athenaeums circled in bleeding red ink alongside a list of books that had gone missing — the ones that people knew about at least.

The Alcove, Ares House, Folkmen’s Bard, and most recently, Argot’s.

Three Librarians dead. Their throats slit. Blood dribbling down their burgundy robes as they’d sat hunched over their desks. The week before it had been two from Ares House caught swaying from the third floor balcony.

No one has any idea how it happened. The wards were never set off. Nothing in the Library was disrupted. I tell you this only because you deserve to know what’s happened to your people. Continue your training. Continue your research. Do whatever you need to do. But leave the court business to me, dear. I’ll write to you again when I can.

~ Helion

“It doesn’t make sense,” you mumbled, drumming your fingers against your hip where the book remained silent. “None of this makes sense.”

You’d used every ounce of Rhysand’s training on the book. You’d imagined your power sliding over it like water, fire, needles shooting through cowhide, a hammerstrike, every metaphor imaginable. You’d glared at it with an intensity that would have disintegrated a lesser object.

When that failed, you had moved onto solving the murders and thefts at your father’s court. You couldn’t content yourself with sitting in one of the cushy, high-backed chairs in Rhysand’s office sipping imported tea in porcelain cups while athenaeums were on lockdown.

The pattern was shockingly simple — Koschei was going after books that could be traced back to him. Books that might give his enemies the upper hand: folktales alluding to him and his siblings, translated texts from old Bauldish that might have proved useful in deciphering Henna’s book, secondary accounts of the age before High Lords ruled.

If you were Koschei you’d go after Godswoods next — the collection of athenaeums dedicated to religion. Then on to The Gallows — the athenaeum on death and dying. The two were intricately tied to one another, but people tended to write books on dying before coming up with explanations for what comes after. You’d spent a great deal of time there following your mother’s death, and you could picture it now — solemn black bookshelves looping around a circular room that tapered up into a point like a blade pointed to the sky.

You finished writing your letter to Helion, along with the list of books you wanted pulled from the archives. Cagniv Library may have been a glowing beacon in the Night Court, and a place of sanctuary for the priestesses, but it was nothing like you were used to.

You held the paper out in front of you, Helion’s glimmering pen tucked behind your sharp ears, and blew. The black letters lifted off the page and faded away like a breath in cold air. The message was already writing itself back into existence in Helion’s office.

“It doesn’t make sense.”

You scribbled out another note, this one for yourself with another pen. You ripped it to pieces and fed it to the fire.

What was Koschei looking for now? Was he still looking for the book that now rested against your hip, or had he turned to some other prize? And why kill the Librarians and set all of Day Court on high alert?

Henna had been careful. She’d stayed hidden until she was forced to tear down the Alcove to get the book. Whoever was causing the killings now was either a showman or a fool. They left bodies hanging from rafters. They carved smiles into throats. They let the Librarians know what they were stealing whether they meant to or not. They left patterns scattered among wreckage for someone like you to figure out.

It all felt… juvenile for lack of a better word. Someone young. Someone who wanted to prove themselves in a loud way. Someone whose ego hadn’t been tested yet and wasn’t listening to Koschei’s commands in their entirety.

Azriel.

You couldn’t help but think of him.

Azriel was nothing like that.

He wasn’t loud. He didn’t vy for attention. He didn’t seek the light in a room. His confidence was quiet and true. His kindness took the shape of the shadows that lingered by your ankles. It took the shape of the robes you wore now. He was the only one who’d seen them at The Alcove. He was the only one who could have requested the court seamstress to make a copy and leave it hanging in your closet.

No. Azriel was nothing like that.

Azriel’s eyes lit up like embers when you slid through the front door, weary but bright-eyed and cradling your journals against your chest. The shadows he’d left behind with you slithered across the floor like mist.

She’s been in the Library all day. Working. The shadows whispered in his ear. She thought about you.

Azriel smiled. He’d thought about you as well. “I was wondering where you’d gone.”

You gasped, closing the door louder than you intended. You’d developed a talent for sneaking in and out of the River House unnoticed to the point where Cassian considered hiding bells in your pockets. Nyx had tried to do it as a joke, but you’d caught him giggling too loudly in your bedroom.

You brightened immediately, a broad smile appearing on your face. Azriel felt his heart leap, then quiet as he caught the scent of parchment paper.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow?” You whispered, tip-toeing through the dimly lit hallway to where Azriel was in the sitting room. You sank into the couch with a groan. The hardwood desks at the Library had not been kind to you.

He shrugged and brushed back his wind-thickened hair, shifting to face you better. A crumb-coated plate lay on the table and he still wore his leathers. He must have just arrived home.

“I flew as quick as I could. I wanted to be home.” With you.

He’d gotten so used to the feeling of you sleeping across the hallway that he’d flown the last three days without sleep. It was worth it to see you again. From the looks of it, you’d not fared well in his absence either. Your eyes had that glassy, half-there sheen: a perfect mixture of exhaustion and mind-crackling clarity.

“And how were the Mortal Lands?” You tucked your knees beneath you and leaned against your hand, fighting the sleep that seemed to grapple for you now that Azriel was home. His wings were spread wide and you resisted the urge to close the last few inches between you and the talon that glimmered in the faelight like obsidian glass.

You’d never been that far south. You’d never had reason to. But Azriel flew far and wide. The Continent was now Mor’s domain, but the secret goings of Prythian and the Mortal Lands belonged to him and him alone. The Spymaster of the Night Court. The Shadowsinger.

Azriel shook his head. “Quiet. Koschei hasn’t touched them yet as far as I can tell, and the Mortal Queens don’t care. They seem to think that they can handle Koschei because he’s agreed to bargains with them in the past.”

You made a noise of disapproval. “Like they handled Hybern? The only reason they’re still standing is because fae fought their war.”

The scattering of human armies that had arrived on that battlefield had belonged to no crown. They’d either fought for the bloodlust or the money. You could respect them for that.

Azriel tipped his head to the side, following the curling of his shadows around his shoulders. “But they are still standing. They don’t know what we sacrificed to keep them safe. That’s the problem with humans. They forget too quickly and get complacent”

“It would seem we have the opposite problem. We can’t help but remember everything,” you said, with no small amount of bitterness.

He wanted to keep you talking. He wanted your thoughts. Wanted to fall asleep to the sound of your voice after three weeks of silence. You weren’t aware of it, but the bond had felt thin the further he’d traveled away from you. Like a tightrope stretched to its snapping point. Now that he was back, and you were here, his heart didn’t feel like such a strenuous burden.

He smiled. “I think that’s just you. I know plenty of fae who are forgetful and empty-minded.” He leaned back, stretching his wings out to the side, and winced. They were whipped raw and tender from the flight.

Without thinking you got up and moved to the fireplace, feeding wood to the flames until it crackled happily. There was a reason Cassian and Azriel loved to bath their wings in sunlight every chance they got. The heat helped the soreness and eased the wind’s rough edge.

It also drove color into your cheeks and set your hair alight in a soft golden haze. You were a marvel. An angel with a halo to match and Azriel drank in the sight.

“Like who?”

“Cassian.”

You smirked and chucked the last of the wood into the flame’s gaping mouth.

Cass was far from empty-minded, but after decades of being feared as the Lord of Bloodshed he was grateful that people loved him enough to be just a little mean. He gave and received friendly blows like kisses on the cheek and smiled all the wider for it. To threaten his life was the same as saying I love you. It must be why the Mother had made Nesta his mate. She said I love you to him all hours of the day.

Azriel asked you what you were thinking, and when you told him he felt some of that pain slide off his shoulders like rain. He threw his head back and laughed until his chest started to hurt again and you thought about how rare that sound must be, and how much you loved it.

“How are the others? Rhysand told me Feyre’s sister is down there along with your friends.”

Azriel sobered up quickly and cleared his throat. “Yes. Elain, Lucien, Jurian, and Vassa.”

His voice caught on two names: Elain and Lucien, and it didn't escape your notice. He sounded... nervous.

“And? Are they alright?”

He rolled his shoulders and looked out the window to the inky black sky. Vassa would be sleeping now in her human form, and if she was lucky, she’d wake up in the morning still within the manor’s grey stone walls. Safe. Home.

He shook his head gravely. “They’re nothing short of terrified. Koschei has Vassa under a spell that would normally keep her tied to his lake. He let her go during the war against Hybern and he’s been allowing her to stay, but… everyone’s just holding their breath and trying to prepare for the day he’ll take her back.”

You shivered and wrapped one of the spare blankets around your shoulders. You couldn’t imagine a life where every waking moment held the risk of being torn away from everything you held dear. The anticipation would have broken you more than the act itself.

“I’ve heard of her. The firebird.” You murmured softly. You imagined a creature with glowing eyes, blue-red feathers streaking behind like ribbons set on fire. Azriel narrowed his eyes in confusion, and you explained, “Ares House records all wartime information. I read the reports. We’re very thorough.”

Azriel smiled. “I would expect nothing less.”

Silence passed in comfort, and you couldn’t stop thinking about Vassa.

“Do you think they’d be able to stop it if Koschei did make her go back?”

“I don’t know, Y/n.” And it was driving him mad to have Koschei hanging around like a forgotten word at the end of his tongue.

“I hate this,” you spat out, “The not knowing. I hate it.”

Azriel stared at you, hazel eyes silently begging you to continue. Shadows curled around your body, gently tugging you closer to him until your knees were a whisper away from touching.

You both sighed softly into the quiet air. Even the River House seemed to be at rest for the night. The usual background hum of cooking and cleaning were absent. It was just you and the Shadowsinger.

“How are things going? With the book?”

You slipped your hand through the slit in your robes and pulled it out. The gold chain rustled, glowing faintly from your touch.

“It’s going.” You shoved the book back out of sight. You couldn’t even stand to look at it after the hours you’d spent agonizing over its pages. “Rhysand’s been teaching me to contain my power better. I can actually touch some things now.”

But not him. Still not him. And it was killing you.

Azriel gave another one of his small smiles. The ones that never failed to make the world a smaller, more manageable place. “That’s good.”

“I just… this may sound silly but, I’m not used to things being this hard. With my powers a lot of things just sort of came naturally for me. But now people are dying and I’m just sitting here on this very expensive couch and I can’t do the thing I was brought here to do and I… I don’t like feeling this useless.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Azriel murmured. He closed the space between you even more, shadows hovering over your face in silent permission. When you didn’t pull away they brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen over your face with a cool, silky touch.

Azriel was all calm darkness and you imagined that if you reached out to touch his chest your hand might just slip through him like he wasn’t there at all. He seemed too good to be real.

But he was real, and he was sitting close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath fan your cheeks.

“You’re not useless. Never believe that. Not even for a second. And even if you were useless, it wouldn’t matter. You’re worth more than the things you can do, remember?”

“I remember.” Your voice was quiet and thick.

You rested your cheek in the crook of your arm as you gazed at him wearily.

Azriel kept his hands out in the open, one hand reaching across the couch cushions before stopping mere inches away from yours. His shadows closed the remaining distance, slipping in between your fingers to mimic Azriel’s touch.

“Did you uncover any more secrets of mine while I was gone?” Azriel asked as your eyelids began to droop.

“I confess I forgot to look. But maybe now that you’re here, I’ll start again,” you mumbled into the encroaching dark.

“I look forward to it,” were the last words that filtered through your ears before you fell asleep to the untranslatable whispers of shadows.

Nyx bounded down the stairs, leaping the last six steps before landing soundlessly on the floor with a soft bend of his knees — just like Azriel had taught him. Feyre gave a proud nod before ruffling his ebony hair and Rhysand beamed.

Let me. Feyre adjusted the wrappings around Rhys’s chest that kept Velaria’s plump body swaddled and comfortable. Her pink lips opened in a yawn that had both mates sighing.

“Uncle Az!” Nyx raced forward towards the sitting room and then froze, mouth opened in a surprised oh.

Azriel slept like the dead on the floor, chest rising and falling with the beat of his gentle breath. You lay stretched out on the couch, one arm propped beneath your head and the other dangling over your waist and off the cushions. Your fingers swayed an inch above Azriel’s chest, shadows swimming over his torso and creeping up your arms so that even in sleep you were connected to one another.

Feyre gasped softly at the picture. The sunlight blanketing the both of you in peach fuzz. The faint uptick of Azriel’s lips and the smoothness of his brow. The way you looked like you were bleeding into him. The black of his shadows and your robes.

Rhysand rubbed Nyx’s shoulder and kissed Feyre’s cheek.

Let them sleep, Nyx. We’ll get breakfast at Huth’s today.

Nyx let his parents lead him towards the door without protest. He’d never seen Uncle Az sleep so soundly in his life.

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Author's Note:

Yeah... this slow burn is burning... but I just love it so much and I love writing all the sweet little moments they have and their conversations with one another and I hope you're enjoying it as well.

#azriel x reader #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #everyone deserves a person who'll help them relax enough to fall asleep #late night conversations and barely there touches and longing and asdfbaefnaks #AZRIEL FREAKING MADE HER NEW ROBES SO SHE WOULD FEEL MORE COMFORTABLE #He's trying to grow and do right by his exes so he will feel more worthy of Y/n and I just ugh #i'm giving him Mr. Darcy energy I don't give a shit

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