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obliviouscxnt · 4 months

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Nightmare Azriel x Reader

a/n: oh my god, I’m actually so shocked by the feedback from the last fic. It gave me the serotonin and motivation to write a part two :o I'm probably going to make this into a series, I have many ideas!! Maybe some smut if I'm feeling brave... thank you so much, I hope you enjoy! :))

can be read as a standalone, but without some context from pt.1 things might become confusing

synopsis: your need to help gets you into trouble

Warnings: strong(?) hints of sexual activities, minor angst, minor violence, fluff

pt. 1 | pt.3

In the corner of his eye, he can see you picking at your fingers. Your sharp nails do unnecessary damage to your fragile hands.

He knew you were worried for Feyre, ever since she’d been taken to the spring court you’d been on edge.

It went beyond a loyal subject worrying about her High Lady. You fretted for Feyre like you would Amren, or Rhys, or Mor, or Cassian.

Though it was endearing in a way, Azriel didn’t like the way that worry manifested. The way you unknowingly damaged yourself. Your bottom lip was split open from gnawing on it, the skin on your fingers was peeled back and inflamed, and dark circles found their place under your eyes from sleepless nights. Unable to really rest when your friend was in the jaws of the spring beast.

His shadows reach for you, demanding to be with you.

He let a few of them loose, watching as they traveled to you instantly. One settled at your hands, weaving between each of your fingers and curling around your wrist. Another rested on your shoulder, brushing your face. The others couldn’t decide where to settle, traveling over your body frantically as they tried to comfort you.

The shadowsinger was about to pull them back, but as soon as they felt his pull they settled in whichever place they could. Nuzzling against you. Desperate to stay with you, comfort you.

Azriel found it amusing, and so utterly relatable.

He forces his attention back to the papers on his desk. Which was more than a struggle.

It was an impossible task, staring at building diagrams and reading reports from his spies, when the most magnificent woman he’d ever known sat not three feet from him.

Then he felt your eyes on him, and he knew there was no point even trying. He wouldn’t be able to focus.

He meets your gaze and arches a perfect brow.

You wanted to ask him something. That much was obvious. But you hesitated, you didn’t know if he would say yes.

“What is it?”

You glanced down at your hands, then up at him, then back down at your hands. “May I go see Rhys?” Your voice is small as you ask.

When you heard the shadowsinger sigh you knew what the answer would be.

Azriel ran a hand through his hair as he watched you.

You had been asking that a lot recently, and at first he allowed it. He saw no harm in you sitting with his brother, helping him when he needed help, listening when he checked in on Feyre through their bond. He knew his brother didn’t mind, he understood your anxiety and shared it with you tenfold. But Rhysand had a lot to deal with, so for that reason, Azriel shook his head.

“Rhys is very busy.” He starts, extending an open hand toward you. Smile tugging at his lips when you walk around the desk and place your hand in his. “Feyre is strong, she can handle herself.” He assures you as he pulls you to stand between his legs, letting his hands soothe your body. Letting his shadows join him.

But he can tell by how tense you were that his assurance wasn’t helping.

His fingers thread through your hair. “You want to help Feyre, is that it?” His thumb brushed over your jaw as you nod. “Why don’t you pay her sisters a visit? I’m sure that would ease some of her stress, to know that you’re there for them like you were for her.”

He watched some light enter your eyes and almost smiled in victory. You were so enthralled with the idea, you tried to run out of his office to visit them right at that moment. He caught you, pulling you back against him until you sat in his lap. “Tomorrow.” He breathed.

You leaned into him, coaxed by his hands. Sighing as his mouth plants wet kisses down your neck, shivering when you feel his tongue come out to lick over your pulse.

Azriel let himself get lost in you. In feeling you against him. In bathing in your scent.

He doesn’t let himself second guess his suggestion, even though there was a very reasonable voice in his head that was kicking him. A voice that berated him for being so foolish. That screamed to just let you see Rhys. That begged to keep you far, far away from Nesta Acheron.

But that voice is drowned out by his need for you.

He groans when you turn around in his lap, straddling him, shimmering black dress riding up your thighs. His hands immediately find purchase on them, squeezing. While yours tangle in his hair.

You pant, lips parted as your eyes run over him. Stopping at his lips, his eyes, his mouth, his neck, the hands that squeezed your thighs when you looked at them. You were mesmerized by him.

You needed him. Gods, you needed him.

He kissed you like a starved beast. You moaned when his tongue brushed over the roof of your mouth, eliciting a hum from him. His hands slid up to your hips so he could grind you against him, hiking your dress up with them.

You feel him harden beneath you.

“What do you want?” He asks against your lips, kissing them again, then kissing along your jaw, and then kissing back down your neck. Latching on to the spot that had your hands gripping his hair, your thighs tightening around his hips.

“I…” You try, but words won’t form, only sounds.

He parts with your neck to lean his head against yours. Looking in your eyes. Pulling back a bit when you move to kiss him. Hands now holding your hips still against him, torturing you with the feeling of him pressed against you.

Your eyes plead with him, your sharp nails almost digging into his scalp as you lost yourself, and he can’t stop the smirk of pure satisfaction from spreading across his face. “Tell me what you want.”

You shudder when you feel him twitch underneath you. “Please.” His hands squeeze your hips. “Please. Use me.”

The groan that left his mouth had to be the most sinful thing you’d ever heard.

*****

Anxiety chews on your mind, spits it out, and chews it back up again. You wring your shaking hands.

Before you was the door that separated you from the Acheron sisters.

You knew of them, knew what they were like from what Feyre had told you. And now that you were thinking about it, you didn’t want to help them. Not for their sake.

But for Feyre… You’d started coming to terms with the fact that you’d do just about anything for her.

However, that didn’t stop your heart from beating so fast you were afraid it would fail.

Azriel’s hands rest on your upper arms and he leans down to your ear. “Breathe.” You absentmindedly lean into him, relishing in the feeling of his lips brushing your ear. His breath fanning across your cheek.

“If you can’t handle this we’ll go back.” He says, making it very obvious that he wouldn’t mind curling back up in bed with you. You exhale a shaky breath as his hand slowly slides over your breast, your nipple hardens under the silky fabric of your dress and he traces it with his finger. You were seriously debating it.

But your need to help in some way, to do something useful wins.

“I can handle it.” You say, sounding not at all sure of yourself.

But he listens, moving his hands to rest back on your arms. Thumbs drawing calm circles.

You give yourself a moment to breathe. Leaning your head back against his chest. Feeling your stomach flip when his lips press against your head.

When you were finally ready he opened the door for you. You took one more futile deep breath, all the air in the world wouldn’t be able to tame your emotions, then walked in with a friendly smile plastered on your face.

You immediately wished you’d accepted his offer to go back to bed when the harsh eyes of the oldest Acheron sister settled on you. There was no mistaking who was who.

“What are you?”

Her words were like a physical blow. Her voice, colder than ice. You step back bumping into Azriel’s chest.

He rests a hand on your shoulder as if to say, we can still go back. But you’d made your choice, you were here to offer your help. If they didn’t want it, then fine, but you would still offer it.

“A friend,” You manage to say. Her cruel gaze felt like a physical weight on your being. So scrutinizing, so full of hate. It’d been a while since someone cast eyes like that your way. Azriel had been careful to make sure of that. “Of Feyre’s.”

Her stare narrows on you. Drinking you in. You watch her gaze snag on your pointed teeth. You close your mouth. Whatever you were about to say dying in your throat.

“Some friend.”

Azriel glared at Nesta, the warning clear on his face. Say no more. He puts a hand on your lower back, guiding you to where the other sister sat, on a chair in front of a window.

The weight of Nesta's stare never left you.

But when you see Elaine, all of it ceases to matter.

All thoughts left your brain. Not unlike how you got sometimes with Azriel—when all the pleasure became too much—but also completely different. It wasn’t Azriel guiding you now.

It was what lived inside you, the writhing magic that was always thrumming under your skin.

Your brain doesn’t register how the girl looks, hollow; as if someone scooped all the life out of her. Your brain doesn’t register a thing except the irresistible pull.

You could feel it, or her, calling to you. Beckoning you closer.

You couldn’t refuse.

When your mind came back to your body, you stood directly in front of Elaine. Your palm cupping her face.

Then you felt something awful slither into your head. It slipped through the crevices of your mental barriers and crawled into a dark corner of your mind. Hiding from you, even though you could feel it watching.

Nausea overcame you. You snatch your hand back like she burned you. Shuffling back toward Azriel who looked at you with concern.

Then Elaine's eyes closed. Nesta rushed to her sister as she went unconscious. Almost falling out of her chair. The older Acheron managed to catch her in time with help from Azriel’s shadows.

You turned to Azriel. “I want to go.” Your words barely a whisper.

His eyes widen when he sees the fear on your face. The horror. His shadows encompass you, providing your body with a cover, a shield.

“What did you do?!” Nesta shouted through pants of fatigue, having just lugged her sister to bed. You gripped Azriel’s shirt and he held you close to him as he led you out. Away from the screaming woman. “What did you do to my sister?!”

*****

“What happened?”

You swallowed at your High Lord, glancing at Azriel. For what? You didn’t know. Help? Comfort maybe? Whatever it may be you didn’t receive it. All you got was a nod in Rhysand’s direction.

So you turn back, struggling to find your words under his serious gaze. Not harsh, but very, very serious. “I don’t know. She looked so tired… I just—It felt like she was calling to me.” Trying not to think about that thing you could still feel hiding. Still, feel looking at you with eyes you couldn’t see.

He waved for you to continue.

“She’s fine.” You say, and somehow find yourself completely sure of those words. Though you had watched her pass out with your own eyes. Knew it was your doing.

“How do you know that? This is different. Even Azriel said he’s never seen you do something like that before.” You look down at your hands, picking at the already torn skin.

You don’t dare look up when you feel Rhys rise from his seat. Feel him walk around his desk until he’s in front of you. It's when he speaks that you feel the need to meet his stare.

He holds a hand over your head. “May I?”

Azriel steps forward. Looking as if he were about to protest. Rhys shoots him a look that makes him stop.

Rhys needed to know what happened, to make sure you didn't harm his mate's sister. The bond took control of his instincts. Your word wouldn't suffice.

You’d never deny your High Lord a request. Never deny any of your friends a request. You never had before, Azriel always had to step in and do it for you.

So when you stiffly shook your head no, well, to say they were shocked would be an understatement.

Your whole body was tense as if just the act of refusing took everything out of you. Required every bone, every muscle, and every bit of air in your body.

But you couldn’t risk that thing infecting Rhys. Not when you didn’t know what it was. Not when you could feel its hungry stare.

You held your breath until Rhysand’s hand dropped to his side.

Your felt physically ill. The weight of what you just did settling on you. You stiffly turned to Azriel.

“I want to go.” You said for the second time that day.

Azriel’s brows dipped as he looked at you, worry covering his features. His shadows were restless, flicking with agitation as they too struggled to see you so bothered.

He glances at Rhys but the High Lord gives him a look of sympathy. “I need to speak with you.”

The shadowsinger’s jaw clenched. Wanting nothing more than to refuse, to point out the state you were in even though it was as clear as day.

But he couldn’t say no to his brother, not after all he’d done for them.

He walks you to the office door, turning you to face him before you can leave. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your head. His words were nothing but breath against your ear. A whisper for only you to hear. “Go to bed. I’ll join you soon.” But you didn't walk away, looking unsure, nervous. “Go.”

Your only consolation, as you left, were the shadows that parted with him and linked with you.

Once you were far enough down the hall the High Lord spoke. “What was she thinking?” He paced in front of his desk. “She knows her magic is dangerous… did she even read those books Helion sent?” He swallowed as he remembered the limited information those three books had, the only books that made any mention of dreamwalkers.

“Of course, she read them, you asked her too.” Azriel said, bite in his tone. Making Rhys sigh and stop his pacing. The High Lord sends an apologetic look to his brother as he sits on the front of his desk. “She wasn’t thinking,” Azriel says after a few moments of silence.

Rhys raised a brow, silently telling him to elaborate.

The shadowsinger leans back, remembering that look on your face. A look he’d seen many times, but never in a public setting, and you never moved on your own. “She was in a trance.”

“Elaine could’ve done something to her.” Rhys thinks aloud, making Azriel straighten.

Did she curse you? They still had no idea what gifts the cauldron bestowed upon the Acheron sisters. The last thing he wanted was for you to be on the receiving end of those gifts.

Both Illyrian men sat in worry.

“I’m sorry, I suggested she visit them. I thought maybe she’d click with them like she did Feyre.” Azriel says, running a hand down his face.

Rhys shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. I know she wants to help. And not everyone can be as charming as Feyre.” At that, the brothers shared a strained smile.

“How is she?”

Rhys let out a deep breath as he picked imaginary lint off his clothes. “Alive.”

Azriel couldn’t imagine how he’d act if you were in enemy territory, the thought making him tense, body itching to be near you. He’d die before he’d let that happen.

“She’ll be home soon.” Azriel offers Rhys the words of comfort, even though they wouldn't do much.

Before Rhys could reply shadows scurried under the door rushing to Azriel.

The shadowsinger’s face went pale at their whispers. He shot up from his seat. “[name].”

Then a loud bang was heard followed by a scream of bloody murder.

The two males were rushing out of the room and running through the halls of the house within a split second. Somewhere along the way Cassian had joined them, shirtless and sweaty. Having rushed out of the training room the moment he heard the bang.

More bangs sound, but none as loud as the first one. And no more screams follow.

Azriel found himself wishing for you to scream. If you were screaming you were breathing.

He burst through the door of your shared chambers, almost knocking it down. He didn't stop to stare at the sight before him like his brothers did. There was no time to pause, not when you were being shoved into the tub by Hybern soldiers, their jagged nails gashing your beautiful skin. Their faces were unnatural and barely formed. Some were faceless, just flat skin and dark empty holes where their eyes and mouths should've been.

Stood behind you was the disfigured form of the King of Hybern himself. His body was reconstructed by the nightmare, making his fae features more monstrous. More fitting for his character.

The evil king's smile stretched from ear to ear as you thrashed under the cold water.

Azriel shoved his way through, ripping you from their arms and dragging you out of the tub. But the soldiers didn’t stop. Still reaching for you with their long slender fingers.

Tears flowed from your closed eyes, your body twitching and shaking as you were tortured both in your mind and outside it.

“Rhys!” Azriel shouted springing the High Lord into action. He rushed over, dodging the grabbing arms before setting both hands on either side of your head and forcing you to wake.

Your eyes snapped open, gulping in as much air as possible. The figures dissipated into thin air. Like a flame being snuffed out.

You squirmed away from the hands of your High Lord. Pushing against the firm body you adored so much.

You grabbed Azriel, holding him tight. So tight he wouldn’t be able to leave you again. Too afraid to worry about your bare body and the fact that both Cassian and Rhysand could see. Too afraid to notice the other person who stood at the doorway with wide eyes. Too afraid to do anything but hold him.

“Shhh. I’m here now. I’m here.” He held you tighter as your body shook with silent sobs. “I’m here. I’m here.”

You know what happened now. What that thing was. Gripping Azriel tighter as the knowledge weighed on your brain.

You tensed when he lifted your shivering body into the outstretched towel Cassian held. Azriel pulls you close to him when you recoil away from his brother's gentle touch.

Cassian watched Azriel wrap the towel around you. Heart heavy as you clung to his brother. A look of pure dread etched on your face, accompanied by a stream of never-ending tears.

You’re vaguely aware of Rhys rummaging through your drawers in the background. Vaguely aware of Azriel lifting you once more. Cradling you against him as he carried you to the bed.

He took the medical supplies from Rhys and then asked his brothers to leave. They hesitantly obliged, taking the shocked Nesta Acheron with them and closing the slightly damaged door.

He lays you down on the bed, backing up a bit to open the first aid kit but you lurch for him. Arms tightening around his neck.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He says, wishing he never had to say such words to you. “I’m right here with you.” Feeling his chest split in half when you reluctantly let him go. Bottom lip quivering.

His hands are softer than usual as they patch you up. Frown deepening at every single scratch, and bruise he saw. His fingers brush over an already forming bruise on your waist. Bile rose in his throat as the image of those horrid hands grabbing and piercing your smooth skin filled his mind.

“I took it from her.”

Your broken confession drew his attention away from the bruise and to your scared eyes. He felt helpless as he stared into them, he should've never left you. He cradled your face, thumbing away your tears only for more to take their place. He brushed those away too.

“That nightmare. I took it from her.”

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #rhys acotar #nesta archeron #azriel x you #cassian acotar

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starsforselene · 2 months

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Pairing: Kim Mingyu x Afab reader

Rating: explicit MDNI

Contains: masturbation (m), mentions of recorded sex acts, mentions of vaginal penetration

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: Mingyu misses you during a sleepless night while he’s away. Thankfully, he has a special folder full of memories you two have been working on.

Note: This is a little different than things I’ve written before. Would love to know if it’s a hit or miss? Haha.

—/

Mingyu tossed and turned, trying to find comfort in yet another hotel bed. While there’s nothing wrong with this undoubtedly expensive mattress and the high thread count sheets, it wasn’t home. He knows the traveling is part of what he signed up for, but tonight the bed is too big; it’s too empty.

He reaches for his phone and squints at the brightness until he can adjust, thinking maybe he can send you a text or maybe even call, anything to feel connected to you. Of course, it’s 3:45 AM and you’re asleep by now, and no matter how lonely he feels it’s not lonely enough to wake you up.

Scrolling through social media does nothing to ease the heavy feeling that’s settled in his chest, the ache of missing someone. He pulls up the photos app and scrolls through the album you made for him; photos he’s taken either of you or of the two of you that bring back memories. So you can have it handy when you miss me, you said when he’d asked about it.

It helps tonight, the images of times spent together from those shy first dates to the familiarity of having someone he can know is his, someone he counts on and loves that he can confidently know loves him for who he is. Your smiling face looking back at him from your spot on a beach towel after a day trip to the coast, your back shining in the sun, your hair whipping wildly around you from the ocean breeze…the way your waist curves perfectly and the swimsuit bottoms that barely covered your ass.

Something stirs inside him, a pull deep in his belly that he’s well acquainted with. Flashes of you running through the waves that day, the way you laughed and splashed at him, your body dripping wet from the saltwater. How he laid you down on a beach towel as the sun set and worshiped every inch of you; how you squirmed as he tasted the salt on your skin, your sweet moans and whimpers as he buried himself inside you—fuck. He groans as his now hard cock strains against his boxers.

Mingyu backs out of the photo and makes his way towards another album, one that’s locked behind a password only the two of you know. There’s this small thrill that tickles his stomach as he puts in the passcode and the album opens up, the previews from the various photos and videos enough to make his cock twitch and arousal buzz through his limbs.

He caresses his fingers down his chest, breath faltering as he pictures your hands there instead. His fingers hover on the waistband of his underwear as he scrolls for the one video that never fails to make his blood rush. He finally finds it, the preview image alone has him palming his throbbing cock over the thin material of his underwear even though that’s not going to cut it and he knows this.

The video starts playing, your voice playing over the phone speakers, transporting him back to that night, how you were just as giddy as him when he had decided to pull his phone out and record you both—for the memories—you had said.

Mingyu groans to himself as the camera finally settles on a shot of you on top of him, hand on his cock as you run the head between your glistening folds. There’s a moment where you giggle and ask him if the flash needs to be on and he smirks through the haze of his arousal at your playfulness. The mood quickly shifts as you finally align him with your entrance and slowly sink yourself on his cock, a combined gasp from you both making him throb and leak pre cum.

Unable to tease himself any longer, he pulls down his underwear just enough to be able to stroke himself fully, his eyes rolling back momentarily as he finally gives in to his need. He runs the slick that’s gathered at the tip down his shaft, a low moan rising from his throat at how fucking good it feels as he watches you swivel your hips onto his cock on screen, your sweet moans filling the otherwise quiet hotel room.

“Fuck, Gyu, your cock feels so good baby. So full—shit.”

Your words make him pump himself faster, desperately wishing he was feeling your tight walls clenching around him instead; the memory of your tight heat spurring him on. He watches you ride him, the way you eagerly take all of him with every rise and fall of your hips, the lewd smacking sounds making his belly tighten.

“That’s it, gorgeous, fuck yourself on my cock. Just like that.” He listens to the way you whine and groan to his praise, his balls tightening as he watches your hand appear on screen to rub tight circles on your clit.

His breathing is uneven from trying to hold back just long enough to get to his favorite part, thigh muscles straining as his hips lift into his hand to match the pace you're keeping in the video. You’re moaning louder now and he knows from memory that you’re about to come, his own release fast approaching as he watches your hips falter and his own pick up the slack to get you there. The way you’re chanting his name, begging him to keep fucking you like that makes the room spin. He stops holding back; fisting himself harder, twisting at the head just the right way, his limbs burning with need.

Mingyu watches you come on his cock with a breathless cry, his name on your lips, the way you quiver on top of him with each pulse of your orgasm—that’s what does it. He whimpers, your name moaned out into the empty room as he works himself through his release, spilling come on his stomach with every pump of his hand. With every throb of his cock he wishes more than anything it was you he was coming inside of, you praising him for doing so well, you kissing his face as he comes down from the heaven you bring him to.

It’s not, but it’ll have to do, he thinks with a sigh as he finally settles. The heaviness feels delightful; he’s no longer a ball of anxiety and the loneliness has dulled in his chest. Sleep tries to claim him as he fumbles for a tissue to clean himself off, suddenly more tired than he’s ever been.

He takes care of the mess as best he can, ready to pass out until he’s needed again when he hears his phone buzz on the nightstand. His brows knit together as he reaches for it, his heart flopping in his chest when he sees it’s you.

“Baby, are you okay? It’s so late.”

“Yeah I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m okay I just…I missed you. I had a dream about you and now I can’t sleep,” you say quietly.

He knows that tone, though, and he smirks as he lays back against the pillows again.

“Tell me all about it, gorgeous.”

#mingyu smut #mingyu imagines #svt smut #svt imagines #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #fic

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bunnyreaper · 3 months

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you and john debate your baby's team allegience. (18+/mdni, suggestive themes, liverpool fan john price. written for/inspired by @a-very-bored-blogger)

your face lights up with excitement as soon as the webpage on your phone loads, yet immediately, you hear a groan from behind you--john's grip on your waist tightening.

"absolutely not, love."

"c'mon, it's adorable." you coo, zooming in on the football team's baby kit and practically shoving it in your husband's face over your shoulder.

you don't even need to turn to see the way his nose wrinkles in disgust, his brows furrow with disdain. despite his clear objections, he presses a quick kiss to your cheek and then your neck, as if trying to dissuade you. "if she's getting any kit it's a liverpool one, end of story."

his hands begin to roam, up to your shoulders, massaging at the stress that's accumulated there after all the time spent looking after your 6-month-old.

you hum, trying to imagine your little girl in john's teams colours. "i'm not sure if red would suit her as much as black and white." you tease, knowing full well such insistence is going to wind john up. little gets him worked up as much as his football and his loyalty to his team.

"darling." he says sincerely, before spinning your stool around to face him. he presses himself in between the space of your legs, a serious, solemn look in his eyes. "been thinking about this since i was a boy myself. i had a liverpool shirt, she's having a liverpool shirt."

you hold his gaze, deciding on whether to push or let him have this one. you knew deep down that if you wanted to, you could pull the "I just carried your child for 9 months, and have been sleepless for the last 6 while you spent 3 of them on the other side of the world" card, but you also knew that this was something important to john, more important than it was to you.

"fine." you smile sweetly, locking the phone and reaching behind you to set it on the counter, before you reach up to thread your fingers round the back of john's neck. "ill make you a deal."

"what's that?" his eyebrow quirks, a smirk tugging at his lips--he loved his ingenious wife and her deals.

"she gets the liverpool shirt, and this weekend when she's at your mums, we get started on our little newcastle fan."

john is on you in an instant, dick pressed against your core as hungry lips attack your neck. "no reason we have to wait til the weekend, love. might as well get started now."

#john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain price #captain john price #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfiction #bunny writes #reader is a newcastle fan bcs ofc #deal with it

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twogyuu · 3 months

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[959]

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader

genre: fluff(?), mutual pining, unestablished relationship, medical!au

warnings: mentions of blood/cutting self on accident, vague mentions of "going out"

a/n: yes, i think about doctor!wonwoo a lot actually -

. . . .

This is so embarrassing.

On your last full weekend off this month, you find yourself back at work - and worse! Not as a provider, but a patient!

So much for living your best life this weekend.

"And," Seungkwan drags out the single word as he fans the betadine to dry, "We're done."

He looks up at you and smiles sheepishly. There's a spark in his eye - one that you reminded you of yourself what seemed like many years ago. You peer down at your finger: three simple sutures neatly threaded through your wound and knotted just tight enough.

"How'd I do, Y/N?" Seungkwan asks excitedly, he's almost bouncing on the balls of his feet.

You shoot him a soft smile, flexing your finger at him.

"Oh!" a look of panic flashes over his eyes.

"Not bad, Boo, not bad at all," you compliment, "I'll be good as new by next week."

"Tsk," Seungkwan scolds briskly. He puts the sharp in the red bin and swipes the wrappers off the metal tray. "Take it easy - you know the rules: stitches come out in about a week. I'll put some bacitracin on it and bandage it up for the night, but open and dry while it heals."

"Yes, yes, Dr. Boo," you tease playfully.

"I'm not yet, Y/N!" he chuckles.

"You'll take them out, right?" you point at your finger, ignoring his protests.

"I won't be here next week," Seungkwan replies sadly, "New rotation."

"Ah," you nod.

"I'm sure Soonyoung will though," Seungkwan adds hopefully.

"Yeah, um, I don't know if I trust him."

"What?! Y/N, he's an EM resident."

"Yes, but-"

The glass door to your small room slides open, interrupting your banter. The both of you turn to look who it is and you feel your heart constrict the moment you notice the way the bright light reflects against his round, wire-framed glasses. Wonwoo closes the door behind him and leans on the door handle, looking back and forth between you and Seungkwan before he turns his attention all to you.

Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you tear your gaze away, cheeks and tips of your ears burning. You feel yourself suddenly growing self-conscious in Wonwoo's presence: your eyeliner a little too dark, your lashes coated in too dark of mascara, foundation caked on a little too heavily to hide your dark circles from sleepless nights, your shoulders suddenly feeling the hidden breeze in the ED, and your skirt seems too short.

"Did I interrupt something?" Wonwoo finally asks, his words calm and slow.

Seungkwan's breath hitches in your stead and he shakes his head furiously. You can feel Wonwoo's eyes burning holes through your scalp, but you refuse to look at him in this state.

"I should, um," Seungkwan scratches the back of his head. He grumbles awkwardly, "I'm going to go get the ointment and the bandage."

Wonwoo nods and moves to let him leave, though this causes him to step closer towards you. You scoot on your cot as if it would create a substantial space between you enough to breathe.

The silence only ensues, you quietly willing him away, not ready to face him. Wonwoo seems to get the message, deciding to intervene instead.

"Soonyoung told me what happened," Wonwoo explains. There's a stuffy tone in his voice - like he felt awkward being there. "I . . . just thought I'd come down to check," he inhales sharply, "You know, because . . . I, um, care about you and stuff."

You still don't answer, but, oh, were you cursing Kwon Soonyoung right now.

You can't help but notice, though, out of the corner of your eye, you notice how he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose, proceeding to brush his bangs out of his eyes. He's been growing out his hair, and though you're typically not a big fan of long hair, he didn't look half bad.

Heck, he didn't look half bad - he looks good.

Wonwoo huffs, the black fringes fluffing up in the process. "Are you going to just ignore me like that? I have all night - I'm on call."

Yeah, right, you want to shoot back, like he isn't busy as a cardiology fellow on-call.

You reach for the sheets on the cot and wrapping them around your shoulder, squeezing your eyes and sighing heavily. Instead you tell him, "You didn't need to come down."

"I wanted to," Wonwoo replies sharply.

"I didn't . . . I don't want you to see me like this," you grumble.

You hear him shifting from foot to foot behind you. "Like what?"

You shrug. "Like this."

"And what would that be?" he presses. The clack of his leather shoes on the white tile nears you. You can make out his figure in the spotless reflection.

Oh did he know how to press your buttons and make you squeamish.

Unable to bear it much longer, you threw off your sheets and spin around to face him. You dare to look up at him, pressing your tinted lips into a tight line. Unlike what you were expecting, his eyes only remain trained on yours. He doesn't scan your body up and down, his usual knitted brows and scowl in judgement.

"I'm embarrassed," you whisper, frowning.

This makes him chortle and you let out a small whine.

"Why?" he finally asks when his laughter settles a little.

"I dunno," you fumble with your words like you were a middle schooler in trouble and unsure of your feelings. "I-I . . . we just haven't . . . you haven't seen me like this."

"Like I don't know outside being a resident, you're also a normal young adult who likes to go out?" he states more than he asks.

"Something like that," you mutter. Hopeful to change the topic, you add, "So much for some apple slices before then."

Thankfully, whether you like it or not, Wonwoo knows you a little too well. This is one of the moments he decides not to push you further. He only hums, reaching for your injured finger. Gently, he weaves his own fingers in, lifting them at the knuckles to look at the repaired wound. It sets your body aflame again and you silently slap yourself.

You weren't even holding hands! Why were you so flustered?

"Seungkwan did a nice job," Wonwoo notes.

"He did," you squeak.

"Much better than I could," Wonwoo adds.

"He's still a medical student eager to learn and Soonyoung's grading him - not burnt out farts like us," you joke.

"I meant it as," Wonwoo chuckles, "I specialize the heart - not wounds."

You're not sure why you aren't careful with your words tonight. Maybe you are too comfortable with him too soon, maybe it's the betadine seeping into your wound and into your veins.

But you let it slip accidently.

"Yet, you're blind as a bat when it comes to matters of the heart."

Wonwoo's eyes widen, flickering up to look at you.

"W-what?"

"Um-"

"Okay," the glass door slides open and Seungkwan waddles in, with his arms full of supplies. Soonyoung is not too far behind him - he needs to check the laceration repair before the student patches it up. "We didn't have any two-by-two's so I got some four-by-fours to cut up and . . ."

Seungkwan's voice trails off as he feels Soonyoung's hand on his shoulder, holding him back from proceeding further as the older man sees it before he does.

Seungkwan holds the supplies close to his chest and points at himself, innocently, "Did I interrupt something this time?"

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #ksjdfdkjfsdf #**runs and hides**#omg wtf did i just write #help this is so self-indulgent #i wanna vomit #ngl out of all fics this idea is probably my roman empire #like had this whole series planned out for the past 3(?) years #but alas #this is all i can amount to for now

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itsvelyria · 4 months

Text

"sleepless nights w the f1 boys"

Charles Leclerc

his fingertips, rough and dry, are warm as they sketch circles into the back of your hands. you're uncertain of whether he's even aware of it — gaze lingers on your lover, distracted by his gentle charting of constellations in the midnight sky. his voice, a steady murmur, narrates the story of cygnus' lost love and delphinus' persuasion. the chilled air is held at bay as you remain nestled at his side. soon the night softens, inky blue yielding to pinks and oranges as you trade dreams and stories, your heart filling as fatigue settles into your bones.

Carlos Sainz

late-night drives through deserted city streets unfold like a poetic journey. the hum of the engine blends seamlessly with the laughter that fills the car. childhood stories are shared, echoing through the serene space beyond. with each turn, memories are etched into the fabric of the night, becoming invisible threads that linger in the quiet hours that follow. carlos’ handprint on your upper thigh tingles long after parking, sending sparks up your spine as you two head back up to your shared bed.

Danny Ricciardo

the moonlight casts a soft, clandestine glow, accentuated by the fairy light someone had left hanging. rusty bulbs flicker as danny pulls you up by the hands, the out-of-bounds rooftop transforming into an impromptu private dance floor. below, the city is sleepless and alive with its pulsating energy, serving as your silent witness. the faint notes of your paramour’s cologne, a blend of skin and soap, envelops your waltz as you rest your heavy head against his chest. he hums an all-too-familiar melody and in this suspended moment, time seemed to stretch.

George Russell

on cozy nights in, you both find yourselves entwined in a nest of blankets, a sanctuary of warmth. the orange glow from your nightstand delicately paints the walls, creating a cocoon that shields you from the chill outside. amidst the quietude, secrets and dreams are exchanged like cherished treasures. a small flame is kindled in the tranquil space you've carved out for each other — a haven where the moments hover, suspended in the the warmth of your shared breaths, as sleepless nights turn into timeless memories.

Lando Norris

in the realm of virtual gaming marathons, the hours extend into early mornings, a landscape illuminated by the lights of your screen. shouts of triumph and screams of anguish punctuate the air, interweaving with playful banter that colours the room. oceans away from the love of your life, his laughter still resonates through your headphones as he achieves a triple-kill. you cherish every digital heart he sends through your private chat, a reminder of the connection you share despite the physical distance.

Lewis Hamilton

in the tranquillity of midnight, a serene park becomes your canvas for shared introspection. the world transforms into a tapestry of silver and shadows as you two embark on a quiet stroll, hands entwined. conversations unfurl like the delicate petals of snow-white lilies, their fragility mirrored in the hushed murmurs. the night air carries whispers of dreams and aspirations that mingle with the rustle of leaves underfoot. in the hallowed stillness, your footsteps fall into cadence on the gravel path, heartbeats synchronizing like a ballet telling the story of forging connections.

Max Verstappen

beneath the vast expanse of twinkling stars, you both pitch your tents on damp grass. the crackle of a campfire and the rustle of pine trees create the soundtrack to this new chapter in your relationship. flickering flames cast dancing shadows on max’s face as he concentrates on roasting marshmallows. the stars above interrupt every shared gaze and every brush of your hands. the magic sparkling in the inches between your frames settles deep into your bones, destined to be a memory never forgotten.

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highladyandromeda · 1 month

Text

Shadows of the Heart

Part 1

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After years apart, Y/n returns to Velaris, bearing the weight of sacrifice and secrets from her past. Reunited with Rhysand and his Inner Circle, she navigates the complexities of rekindled friendships and unresolved tensions.

Warnings: mentions of blood, but nothing particularly graphic

WC: 1k

[Prologue]

Three days drifted by before Mor finally stirred from her deep slumber, her body frail and still reeling from the mutated faebane she had ingested. Though she nearly fainted again once she saw Y/n across from her, surrounded by an amalgamation of healing salves and blood-soaked bandages. Rhys, looking haggard from days of ceaseless worry, was by her side in an instant, having anchored himself to the room, steadfast in his refusal to leave them.

The inner circle, their family, had rallied around, taking turns to keep Rhys company, with Azriel stepping up more than anyone. He told himself it was because of his duty as the spymaster, accustomed to the long, sleepless nights. Yet, in the quiet moments, it was Y/n who captured his thoughts, her name a whisper in the back of his mind. Rhys had introduced her simply as "a dear old friend," but the weight of those words suggested so much more.

Azriel found himself drawn to her, ostensibly under the guise of safety. He watched—the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the delicate flutter of her eyelashes, and the gradual resurgence of color painting her cheeks as Mor's condition stabilized. Rhys's tenderness around her was palpable; he hovered constantly, his hands gently tending to her wounds, smoothing salves, replacing bandages, and even brushing her hair with a care that spoke volumes. The crimson magic that danced around her injuries seemed as lost as she was, at times spiraling along Rhys's arms, at others, drifting curiously towards Azriel's lurking shadows.

Once, her magic reached out, touching the darkness before swiftly retreating, but not before his shadows whispered to him

Beautiful. They said. But tired. Tired. Wants to sleep.

Driven by a mix of concern and curiosity, Azriel had just hastened back to the room, alerted by his shadows to Mor's awakening, only to witness her launching herself out of bed in a frantic bid to reach Y/n. His quick reflexes prevented another fall, catching Mor in a steady grasp, and sitting her down.

"How—what happened?" Mor's voice trembled, her eyes wide as she took in the blood-soaked scene. "Why is there so much blood—wait, is that all her blood? Rhysand!" Her voice climbed, a note of panic threading through her confusion.

Rhysand's face, a mask of exhaustion and worry, softened as he turned to Mor, his voice low and soothing, "It's okay, Mor. You're safe now, both of you are. Y/n... she saved you."

The room was thick with tension, the air heavy as if the very walls were holding their breath. Mor's eyes, wide with disbelief, moved from Rhys to Y/n and back again, as he recounted the ordeal.

Feyre and Cassian burst into the room then, their expressions a mix of relief and concern. "How is she?" Feyre asked, rushing to Mor's side, her gaze flitting between the two women laid out before them.

"Awake, finally," Rhys responded, his voice threaded with fatigue yet underscored by a tangible relief. He remained anchored by Y/n's side, his hand lightly resting on hers.

Cassian moved closer, his gaze lingering on Y/n with a newfound respect. "This is some serious magic she pulled off," he muttered, his voice a mixture of awe and concern, "to save Mor like that."

Mor, gathering the remnants of her strength, attempted to stay seated, her eyes locking onto Y/n's still form. "But... why? Why would she do this for me?" The question hung in the air, raw and laden with emotion.

Rhys's gaze softened, "It’s Y/n… Could she really just stand aside and do nothing, knowing you were in danger, Mor?"

"But she—" Mor's voice broke, looking the most forlorn Azriel had seen her in years.

"I know," Rhys cut in, his voice firm yet gentle. “And you know that it was complicated back then. Promises were made. That doesn’t mean she has changed, not really.”

"Centuries, Rhys. It's been centuries. I wasn't even sure if she was... still among us," Mor whispered, the weight of years echoed in her voice.

"Centuries? Hold on, how do both of you know her?" Cassian, ever the one to voice the burning questions, brought the room's focus sharply to the heart of the mystery.

The room's attention swiveled to Rhys and Mor, with even Amren and Nesta quietly joining the circle. A silent communication passed between Rhys and Mor, a shared history in a single glance before Rhys cleared his throat.

"Well," he started, the word hanging in the air as he gathered his thoughts. "Without diving too deep into her story—out of respect for her privacy—it's safe to say that Y/n and I share a past. We were raised together in Hewn City... She was, quite possibly, my very first friend."

A ripple of surprise and intrigue swept through the group, each member processing the revelation in their own way.

“Why did she leave.” Feyre broached.

"It's... complicated, darling," Rhys pondered the best way to explain.

"To simplify, her father held a position of significant influence under my father's command, privy to the secrets of Velaris. Given how I became High Lord, he and his family chose to leave, out of respect for my rule, given Keir’s proclivities for rebellion.”

“What he doesn’t say” Mor interjected, her voice laced with a mix of frustration and sadness. “Was that he offered Y/n a position, he–we requested she stay. Repeatedly.”

“It was more complicated than that, Mor”

“Was it, Rhys? Mor bristled. “She left you when you needed her most, Rhys. We all felt the void she left behind.”

"It wasn't just about politics or positions," Rhys's expression turned somber, his usual charm and ease giving way to a moment of vulnerability. "Y/n…had her reasons, tied to her family's legacy and their own secrets.”

Feyre, sensing the tension, reached for Rhys's hand, offering silent support.

“It was difficult for all of us. I know it hurt you, Mor. We all had regrets.”

Mor sighed, turning around to lay back down. It wasn't easy to concede that her initial shock had morphed into anger, rooted deeply in pain. After all these years, the thought of being reunited with her friend under such harrowing circumstances, indebted to her for her very life, was a reality she hadn't been prepared to face.

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A/N: I promise there'll be more interactions between Azriel and Y/n in the next parts, I just wanted to set the scene for her complicated history. I also just love platonic interactions between the inner circle and want build up how Y/n is/becomes a part of their family.

#azriel au #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar series #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel x oc #rhysand #morrigan #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar

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anthologyoflucas · 2 years

Text

Gen tag dump 2

I am growing sleepless // And you're out of lullabies. (Memes)

sweet melody // you'll be singing in your sleep // But this time you're not listening to a word I say. (Answered)

Trailing in the train rails // blowing where the wind blows // You're young // you are wild // you are free. (End of Thread)

Down in the forest // we’ll sing a chorus // one that everybody knows. (Dash Games)

Sick of all these people talking // Sick of all this noise. (Dash commentary)

#Sick of all these people talking // Sick of all this noise. (Dash commentary)#Let's play a game I'll show you how it's done. (dash / tag games)#Trailing in the train rails // blowing where the wind blows // You're young // you are wild // you are free. (End of Thread)#You're out of lullabies. (Answered)#I am growing sleepless. (Memes)#Puppets on string all dance and sing. (Dash commentary)

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thcmutcbard · 2 years

Note

Of course Lily would visit her friend! However, unlike a regular person would she actually chose to climb through the window instead of using the door. Definitely an unique way to visit someone at the hospital!

Vyn is startled by the window visitor, eyes wide and panic racing through them for a brief moment. Duo and Veggi jumped onto the bed, Duo growling protectively before they all realized it was Lily. Vyn let out their breath, wincing silently from their wounds.

“Hey Lily.. you know they let visitors in despite the guards right?” They cast trying to play it off like they didn’t almost have a panic attack.

They made a note not to tell Wasp that Lily broke in through a window, he was already worried enough about them.

#i am growing sleepless // and you’re out of lullabies. (answered)#can you hear us? (thread commentary)

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gay-dorito-dust · 4 months

Text

Another, another Drabble that might be longer than I originally planned…the ending was dogshit🦦

‘It’s cute.’ Sylvia Newbon of the Aphrodite cabin cooed as Luke flashed you a charming smile.

‘Then you can have him then,’ you began, plucking loose threads from your jeans, ‘he’s been nothing but an annoying pain in my ass as of late.’

Sylvia merely chucked as she playfully nudged you in the side. ‘I don’t think that’s possible at this pount, Luke seems dead set on you, and I honestly think you’re being dramatic about all this. You’ve got someone pinning after you and your response to that is to be rid of it?’ She said aghast. You shrugged, not really understanding what Luke saw in you, a child of Hades, a forbidden child other than that; a forbidden child whose existence shouldn’t have come to pass.

‘He’ll get bored of me once he realises I’m not who he thinks I am.’ You defended, now watching Luke as he took a small break from training, face still bearing that smile that only seemed to grow to the point his dimples and pearly whites were on full display. You didn’t want to be the one responsible in taking take away that shine. Ever. For it seemed that ever since your first arrival to camp, Luke had been the only one to stand by you without an ounce of trepidation for who your godly father was; He had been there during the sleepless nights despite the fact he didn’t need to, during your time at the Hermes cabin he would be beside you in the dinning pavilion or even save you a seat.

He did everything in his power to help you and be of aid, all without expecting a simple thank you in return…You genuinely hated how you felt towards him. You originally put it down to the fact that Luke Castellan was conventionally attractive, only to soon learn that it was much deeper than that, which had scared you to the point of becoming recluse.

‘Don’t say that.’ Sylvia said sternly. ‘Don’t do that to yourself, don’t sell yourself short. I hate it when you do that because that means missing out on something pure, something beautiful, something real.’ She then grasps onto your hands, holding them with a strength that was reflective of her passion. ‘I don’t want fear of rejection, for fear itself to control you any longer because if there’s anyone in camp who deserves to be happy, it’s you. You’re the child of hades for fuck sake, fear is beneath you and you know it but you still willingly give it power over you. Why? Why deny yourself true happiness when it’s served up to you on a silver platter-‘

‘Because I’m afraid!’ You exclaimed, cutting Sylvia off but find it difficult to stop. ‘I’m afraid that I won’t be enough for him, that I’ll take away his smile that shows off his perfect teeth and cute dimples! I’m afraid that he’ll never be satisfied being with me because even in a camp full of people like me, much like Nico, I still feel the outcast and I don’t want to burden Luke with that.’ You finished, slightly out of breath. ‘So it’d be better for the both of us if I just kept my distance.’ Neither of you spoke, you just stared at each other, letting nothing but the silence to take hold, but then you saw the sudden shift in Sylvia’s eyes as they looked to something just behind you.

You didn’t need to know who it was behind you, not when you could clearly see from where you sat that Luke was missing from his little group of friends that were heading off elsewhere; which was probably why you didn’t express surprise upon hearing his voice from behind saying. ‘I know I probably fucked up my chances by eavesdropping but I completely disagree with everything you said just now.’ You didn’t even react when Luke sat himself down, nor make any attempts to move away when he then shuffled closer to you as humanly possible. Sylvia -obviously knowing what was going to happen- smiled softly as she stood up and promptly left you and Luke to your much needed conversation.

‘And why’s that?’ You rhetorically asked, looking at him as though you weren’t having an internal breakdown as to what might come out of his mouth next. ‘Would me saying I like you be substantial enough evidence?’ He asks.

‘We’re not in a romcom movie Luke, a simple I like you is never going to be enough, especially for people like me who have never been given much of a reason for staying, never mind a good one at that.’ You replied and Luke hummed in acknowledgment before grabbing you hand in a similar fashion as Sylvia did prior; with a strength reflective of his passion. ‘Then let me try again by saying that the day you came to camp was probably the most important day of my life.’ Luke began. ‘From the moment Chiron brought you to the Hermes cabin I knew right then and there that I was a goner. I must’ve been obvious as even some of camp began to notice how I acted towards you and would come up and tell me to tell you and get it over with…but I didn’t because I’d thought I would have enough time to tell you eventually.’ He chuckles, squeezing your hand while you listened intently.

‘I was wrong on that front because it wouldn’t be long until you were claimed by Hades and soon after you had already packed your stuff to move into your new cabin. It wasn’t until then did I realise that I took our friendship for granted, I knew that sooner or later you’d be claimed but at least not for a while, I often asked myself why did I cling onto you so desperately and now I know why.’ Luke finished, looking at you deeply.

‘Why?’ You asked, already knowing the answer.

‘It’s because I didn’t want you to move on and forget about me when I was very much liked the thought of you being close to me, closer than a friend should. So while your cabin was being built I took that as a final attempt in getting closer to you before being forced to wake up in a cabin void entirely of your presence for good.’ Luke replied.

You licked your lips, suddenly overtly away of how dry they were. ‘and here I thought you were just being the friendly head of the Hermes cabin.’ You admitted humourlessly, resting your head against his shoulder without a care. ‘How oblivious was I?’

‘How oblivious we both were you mean.’ Luke corrected as he rested his head atop of yours, briefly closing his eyes. ‘I just hope that I’ve given you enough reason to stay at camp.’ At those words you squeezed his hand in reassurance and uttered softly for him to hear. ‘you gave me that and so much more.’

Luke pressed a kiss to your head. ‘Good because I would’ve followed you into Tartarus and back if I hadn’t.’

#pjo x reader #pjo imagines #pjo imagine #pjo fanfic #pjo series #pjo tv show #Percy Jackson #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan imagines

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