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kindredcandy · 2 years

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bloody cabin | AZRIEL X READER

A/N: why is it that every time i write fanfic its like sneezing... i have no idea whats gonna come out and im shocked by the experience GIRL IM THE ONE WRITING ITFDSJH yeah so this is messy im sorry but its kinda cute ig? shes chonky, i meant for the prompt requests to be short little headcanony things but... again i was not in control of my body lmao

ALSO this is quite adult content pls heed the warnings. I'd love to expand more into writing whumpy, gory adult stuff

request: “Azriel X reader, 8 and 10 please!!”

8.Patching up wounds, 10.Washing one's hair/helping them bathe after a long day.

WORD COUNT: 6K

warnings: uh i would probably call this 18+. Detailed description of injuries and violence. Trauma, PTSD, burns, fire, scars, anxiety, nudity, undressing, mentions of sex. bathing, fixing up, dealing with trauma, mission gone wrong.

You knew something was wrong before you actually found out. Something in your gut just wasn't right, a unnerving sense that fired the adrenaline in your body with no way to burn it off but to pace the cabin. Azriel should've been back by now. That was the agreement. You would meet at the tiny, unoccupied inbetween house, him and Cassian coming from another side of the mission miles away.

You peered out the window for what must've been the fiftieth time. The weather was biting, cold enough to chill the window panes and make it fog when you pressed a finger to it, but not enough that it should've presented a problem in their journey. Darkness had already fallen, the cover of night beginning to blanket the barren trees surrounding the cabin. The window provided answers to nothing, so you turned and made your way back to the small, crackling fire you managed. You grabbed the iron poke and stabbed at the logs, shifting them as tiny embers flared and sparked outwards.

You didn't know what would happen if something had befallen the two Illyrians. Partially because they were your ride home, and their part of the plan was crucial, but mostly because the very thought of your family being hurt made everything twist and ache within you. Especially the thought of Azriel— the spymaster who had claimed your heart. The male had been through so much already, you knew he was capable of enduring a lot but it didn't lessen the ache any. You needed to know he was okay before you ripped your hair out from the anxiety of waiting.

It was quiet in the cabin. Silent aside from the wind hitting against the walls, the crackling fire, and the occasional sound of fabric against fabric every time you shifted. It was so quiet. You had been paying the closest attention to every noise for the past several hours— on edge expecting an familiar face to turn up, or preparing yourself if something less friendly decided to show its face.

But even with the silence in the cabin, you didn't hear the footsteps outside. Only aware of a new presence when the cabin door burst open, creaking loudly and sending you shooting across the worn sofa with a hand clutched to your chest. You whirled the second the door opened, but it still took you several moments to compose yourself and process that the dark towering frame in the doorway was Azriel. You nearly gasp out of relief, but your brows draw together when he walks in. Something was wrong. The way he was walking, the way he was carrying himself, his wings... Something was wrong.

"Az," it sounded like a plea.

You rush up from the couch to where he's moved to the round dining table. The door is still open and wind blustering in when he sags against the table, weak and out of breath. In the warm, dim light of the fire and lanterns around the cabin, there's blood clearly smattered across Azriel. His face is smeared, his hair caked with it, his armor glistening and his wings dripping.

You grasp the door, preparing to shut it but waiting for the second Illyrian to appear. You didn't try to hide the concern in your voice. "Where's Cassian?"

"He's fine." Azriel rasped out like it was an effort, but one worth pushing through. He swallows and it almost seems like he's panting, the way he's so out of breath. "The orders changed, he's staying somewhere else."

With that, you shut the door, closing off the bitter winds that had poured into your solstice. That concern you felt at the possibility of Azriel being hurt was magnified ten fold at seeing it in front of you. You didn't even know what to do. It was so unlike him to be this weakened that your mind drew up blank. He'd been hurt before. Badly. But every time there'd been someone else there to help him or he'd been well enough to fix himself. This... You didn't know how to deal with this.

"What happened?" You whispered, closing in on his space. The coppery scent of blood flooded your nostrils as you moved closer and you ignored the way it made your throat tighten. Your hand hovered in his proximity, not sure where to go or what to do.

Azriel looked up at you, hazel eyes dulled with a weariness you hadn't seen him wear... Ever.

He swallowed hard and his eyelids shuttered, breaking contact with you in favor for an unfocused stare across the room. "It was bad. It went worse than we expected and they..."

You were waiting for him to finish the sentence, but something about it told you that he did. That was all he would share of it. Whatever had happened was enough to rattle him and close him off. He wasn't right and you needed to do something.

"Okay," You kept your voice soft. You look around, collecting a mental list of things you need to do, and things to help Azriel. You didn't even know how badly injured he was. "Sit down."

He moves to the couch wordlessly, though the way he limbers, careful and stiff, it was easy to tell there were several injuries for you to worry about. You grabbed him a glass of water from the poor, makeshift kitchen that was part of the main room, and once he was fixed with that, you filled a large pot of water and set it over the fire to heat.

The old feeble couch squeaked when you sat down on it beside Azriel. Your eyes met his for a long second. A weighted second of everything and nothing passing between you two. You two were in the beginning stages of you relationship... Or whatever it was. A fact that shouldn’t have made anything different, but for some reason it did. The nerves you still had around him, the way you might not have been so invested and concerned if you didn’t love him the way you did.

"Where are you hurt?" It takes an absurd amount of willpower to give you the push of confidence to lean forward and begin undoing the straps of his leathers and armors.

Azriel looks down at your hands, his own scarred one still holding the half glass of water. He watches as you unsteadily work the clasps. "I took a hit..." His voice is hoarse and gravely and you try not to think that it's likely from screaming. "I think I cracked a few ribs"

You pause and sigh through your nostrils in displeasure. Not at him, but at the fact that he'd been hurt. He was so distant, so clinical and absent. You’ve been working at undoing his holsters and straps for a few minutes, setting them on the short wooden coffee table in front of you, before you give his face another scan, searching it. Azriel’s eyes are glazed and distant, fixed on the crackling fire in front of him, unmoving aside from the slight rise and fall of his breaths. You’d seen him get that look before around fire and it made your insides twist to think why. It made them twist to see him in this state, so raw and hurt.

You pause your work on removing his armor and weapons to bring a hand up to cup his cheek, a gentle comfort. “We’re gonna get you fixed up.” You push back his caked and dirty black hair, “Okay?”

His eyelids shutter with a soft nod and you click your tongue, running your hand over his cheek once more before you continue unfastening everything. You could tell his thoughts would drift and swallow him if you didn’t at least attempt a distraction, so you talked to him. Gave him something to focus on besides the last few hours he’d endured.

“Are you hungry?”

Most of his clasps and buckles had been undone, but you knew at some point he would stop you. Azriel was sensitive about who touched his weapons, Truth Teller in particular. You waited for him to stop you in your ministrations but more and more belts and sheaths slid off and he didn’t stop you.

He shook his head once, his jaw still tense, the muscles in it sharp.

You were desperate to ask more details of what went wrong but you knew it would only make things worse. Details could wait until Azriel was stable and cared for.

He leaned forward, helping you discard his belts onto the coffee table and clutching his ribs from the movement. You gently pushed back on his shoulder and he sat back onto the couch, getting the message that you didn’t want him to try to help and worsen his injuries. Azriel hands you the half drained glass of water and you place it on the table as well,

“What do you need?” You asked, your words quieter than the wind against the side of the cabin. With all his armor and weapons shed, you’d begun to work on his leathers, but you paused, your hand resting on his chest until he answered.

“I just need to get cleaned up and rest.” He finally looks at you, his eyes softer than you’d seen them tonight. You could see it in them--- that emotion that often reflected in his eyes when he looked at you. Something gentle, almost loving, When he looked at you like that, it felt like he was taking you apart, piece by piece with only his gaze. Seeing every part of you, vulnerable and thrumming beneath him.

A scarred hand lifts to touch some of your hair that had fallen loose, almost as if he was mesmerized by it. His hands didn’t shake, though you knew they should after everything. If not from the sheer adrenaline then from the pain. But it didn’t, not as it whispered over your hair and then lowered down into his lap. You’re not sure why the attention made your throat swell with the threat of tears while your cheeks burned under his gaze, but it did.

You set back to work on his leathers, the clothing coming off easily once all the straps and holsters inhibiting it had been removed. You tugged it off, revealing tanned muscles and swirling black tattoos. You’d seen Azriel shirtless more times than you could count. Most often after training, when he’d show up with marks and bruises across his perfect body and face. Even after having him in your bed a few times, you weren’t used to it yet. He still made you nervous, his body still didn’t feel like it was yours to touch and gawk at, even if he had no problem with you doing so. The sight of him still made your heartbeat pick up so fast you knew he could hear it.

And when the corner of his lip curled up ever so slightly with amusement, you knew you’d been caught.

“Shut up.” You mumbled through a smile.

The corners of his mouth deepened at your response but you were thankful for the it, even if it was at the expense of your pride. He was distracted. Your cheeks heat under his knowing stare, watching you like a hawk, seeing every part of you.

“Didn’t know I had that kind of effect on you,” He mused simply and looked back to the fire.

“Yes, you did.” You glance up to his eyes before pulling off the rest of his leathers. His pants would be another effort, the numerous holsters and plates complicating things enough that you didn’t think they were worth removing until everything else was treated. He didn’t complain of any injuries below his waist, so it’s likely your effort would only result in flushing your cheeks and making it hard to look at him if you set about removing them.

You’re about to pull down the top of his leather and reveal any injuries, when Azriel stops you with a hand.

“I’m not badly hurt.”

Your brows furrow in confusion. Aside from the cracked ribs and dripping blood, even the way he was carrying himself and staring into nothing was enough to tell you he was in pain.

He must see the questions in your face because he adds “It was a hard mission--- I’m tired, but I’m not badly hurt.” Azriel breaks eye contact to look at his lap, pressing a hand over where his ribs must be hurt. “I just wanted to let you know.”

Yours brows are still furrowed when you look back down to his chest, peeling off the layers of leather as you go. If he wasn’t badly hurt like he claimed, then whatever was weighing on him wasn’t physical.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Your tone is careful, eyes flicking up to his and then back down. There’s blood smeared nearly everywhere on the inside of his leathers.

He’s guarded. Sharp, cold walls shifting into place behind his eyes. Not against you, you note, but against whatever had happened. What had he witnessed?

With the top portion of his leathers gone, though, there was nothing to hide the trauma to his body. Purple and black bruises forming across the surface of his skin, That, in addition to the blood. It was everywhere, seeping from a large scrape across his ribs. With the confines of the leather and the way his skin had been ripped off from some kind of harsh impact, blood had pooled in his armor and smeared around, leaking through any crevices it could.

“Az, this looks...” You trail, not wanting to tell him it looked bad, as that was probably poor bedside manner, but it did look bad. “You would appear to be badly hurt.” The technicality in your words a poor attempt at a joke. He smiles.

“I’m not. I’m just sore and feel really gross.” His voice is still raspy but the way it was lighter brought you some peace.

“I have a bath running now. The water’s not heated, so that’s what that’s for,” You nod to the pot of now-boiling water over the fire.

With the reminder of its existence, you pause your work on Azriel and haul the scalding pot to the washroom. With your back turned to him, you missed the way he flinched and lunged at your careless proximity to the fire. The tub in the washroom wasn’t the luxury you were used to at any of Rhy’s houses, but it would suffice for tonight. You turned off the faucet, deeming it sufficiently filled and then proceeded to dump the large pot of hot water into it. The sudden addition of boiling water into the cold hissed and steamed, the sound of the splashes echoing in the quiet room

When you returned to Az, he was standing from the couch, undoing what he could of his thigh holsters and buckles without bending over and straining his injury. It was a vain effort, more blood spreading and his ribs visibly paining him.

“Stop that,” You warned from your place at the washroom doorway, the large pot still in your hand. You walked it into the kitchen and filled it up at the sink. “I’ll do it, just let me do this first.”

He watched you, your eyes meeting as the pot quickly filled with cold water that hissed when it made contact with the hot metal.

“I can do it myself.” Azriel reassures and you have a suspicion that it’s his pride speaking more than anything else.

You turn the faucet off, pot full. “But you’re not going to.” You heft it out of the sink and carry it over to the fire, careful to not bump yourself on the metal as you do so.

As you set it on the fire, a hand lightly grasps your bicep. Az wasn’t one for casual touches, so you immediately turned to him, still trying to get the pot set up on the fire rack.

“Be careful.”

You’re even more confused now, almost pausing your effort.

“Just... be careful with that.” He forces the words out and releases your arm, turning away but not completely so.

A few more heartbeats of confusion follow before it finally clicks and you heart seems to stop with the ache that consumes it. You secure the pot and straighten up, brows curved upward. “Az,” You whisper, reaching out a hand to his arm.

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t flinch away, or lean into the touch. He’s just... Still.

Your throat constricts with emotions you can’t put names to. “Az. What happened?”

You knew about his past. You knew he was never fond of fire after that, but he’d never been like this around it. Fires warming the townhouse and the House of Wind were a constant in the cooler months and the shadowsinger had never had an issue with sitting in front of them with a drink or a book. Something must’ve happened on the mission to make him react this way. Something so sensitive to him that he refuses to speak, or acknowledge it.

Azriel’s jaw is tensed to iron and his throat bobs before he speaks. “It was n-” He stops himself before he can say what you knew was going to be nothing. It wasn’t nothing. “It was just too much to tell tonight.”

An answer you hadn’t been expecting. You nod and look down, focusing on getting off his lower buckles and straps instead of the vulnerability he’d just expressed. You’ll care for him physically now, and when he’s ready for you help him through the mental scars then you’ll do that too.

Your hands drop to his upper thigh, ignoring how close the buckles were to his center. Azriel’s eyes didn’t move from you as you tried to steady yourself and focusing only on getting the buckles off and nothing else. You didn’t know if your fingers brushing against him through his leathers had him half-hard and you didn’t look to find out. The holsters and straps come off easily enough, though it feels like they took years longer than his upper body ones had, your lingering proximity to a place you couldn’t think about right then. The knives strapped to his lower calves gave you no choice but to lower yourself to your knees to get them off. You look up to his face for a split second, the curiosity of his reaction outweighing your business mode. His brows were raised and you knew from the angle it probably looked more inappropriate than you had initially thought it would. If your eyes looked like fuck-me eyes from that angle, you rolled them at his reaction, turning them into oh-fuck-me eyes.

He snorted. “Is this why you wanted to do this? All an elaborate attempt to bed me?” You stand up, meeting him face to face. He adds in a low voice, “again.”

Your cheeks instantly flush at the reference to your previous affairs with him, your stomach flipping with the effect his voice had on you.

“If I wanted to bed you again, I wouldn’t need an elaborate plan.” You smirk and undo the laces of his pants with one swift tug, ignoring his shock at your comeback. “These come off, then get in the tub.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to do this.” Azriel says, a reminder of sorts. One that you can’t help but feel is either self-deprecating or part of his guarded pride once again.

“I’m taking care of you.” Your voice is commanding, in a low, gentle way.

When the second pot of hot water is added, heating it to comfortable temperature, and Azriel is effectively disrobed, it doesn’t take long for the clean water to turn coppery orange at his presence. He winces when his wound makes contact with the water at first, but once seated in the tub, he sighs and sags against it in exhaustion, his eyes falling closed. You wonder how long he was flying in the cold. Illyrians were pretty resiliant against the cold, but it didn’t make long winter flights soaked in blood and injuries any more enjoyable.

You found a cup, an old stained washrag in the kitchen and a bar of soap that looked like it could’ve been older than you, but all things considered you were grateful for the resources. And then you set to work cleaning your Illyrian. He put up little protest in the state that he was in. He scooted forward and you tilted his head back, cradling it in your palm and he simply relaxed into your touch. When you poured a cupful of warm water over his hair, a breath loosed from his chest. Azriel was deflating, decompressing at last. The tension still wore heavy in his shoulders and his wings were... You could tell by the way he moved them and the way he held the muscles in his back that he was still on edge. Even if just a little. His movements were twitchier than usual. Less of the smooth, practiced way he normally moved.

The water around him grew filthier as Azriel grew cleaner. Another cup of water gently poured over his head has his hair looser from the blood and dirt that had it stiff at the ends. You ran your fingers through it and he hummed, low in his throat. You couldn’t help the soft smile that danced across your features. You worked your fingers in deeper, rubbing them along his scalp and scraping your nails against him. Azriel sighed now, all tension melting off like butter.

There wasn’t a need for words to fill the steamed air between you. You knew Azriel. You knew when he was exhausted that talking was the last thing he wanted to do. He wasn’t very talkative on a good day, but it took something extra from him to communicate when he didn’t have the energy. You knew he appreciated solitude, silence, shadows, peace. But sometimes the silence would be the wrong kind of silence for him and it grated, triggering something within him. The recessed memories of being locked up, alone and surrounded by silence.

When silence fell, it was still hard for you to tell what kind of silence it was.

You lathered the bar of soap in your hands, taking an unusually long amount of time to do so due to the shriveled and neglected nature of the bar. Once there were in fact suds, you ran them through his hair, still catching on some tangles and messy spots. The wind always gave his hair the cutest mussed style that made you want to jump him where he stood, but long journeys often resulted more knots and messes than anything else.

Azriel melted beneath your hands, color slowly returning to his complexion as he healed up and relaxed. The scent of him filled the air more than that of the blood. Purely Azriel. You wondered if he could smell you too, if he was paying enough attention. You wondered what he was thinking of, glancing down to his furrowed dark brows. He was a mystery. An enigma, but gods, he was a beautiful one at that. The angle and the lighting made his jaw a sharp cut and his cheekbones... He was truly a specimen to behold. You didn’t know how you got so lucky. A thought followed by you giving him extra attention, rubbing his scalp and running a soapy hand to rub at his sore neck.

Meanwhile, Azriel was thinking the same, dissolving into the only safe place he had. The only place he’d want to be. You were all he thought of through his entire flight. Images of you, glimpses of daydreams and memories flashed in his head at any moment in which action stalled, even during the mission. You consumed his thoughts with a pure, white hot and holy burning desire to just be near you and feel the presence you bring. You were comfort, safety, patience, and something more. Perhaps it was love, but there was something that Azriel chose to not put name to, that made him crave being near you like an addict.

And so hurt and naked in a dingy bath in a busted old cabin, Azriel breathed your presence. He sighed at the feel of your fingers on his scalp, working the muscles in his neck too. He was so irreparably in love with you it made his chest hurt to even be receiving such treatment. The gash on his side, the broken ribs and innumerable bruises were dulled to a small thought in the back of his mind when you touched him with such tenderness. The cabin was silent, aside from the crackling of the fire in the other room and the tinkling and splashing of water rinsing him off. It was the kind of silence that should’ve been peaceful, especially after such a chaotic night, but it was half the chaos of the night that made the silence unbearable. Every time his fae hearing picked up the crackle and pops of the logs in the fire, Azriel stifled a flinch or attempted to keep himself level, though it felt like it might’ve been fresh sweat appearing in the place of the sweat he just rinsed. The silence was too much tonight.

He kept his voice from shaking barely. “Talk to me, my love.”

Your brows furrowed for a split second before you understood the implication behind his words. He’d never explicitly explained to you, but somehow, he had a feeling you understood.

Your hands stilled in his hair as you thought. “What about?”

Azriel made a noise between a hum and a grunt and settled down lower in the tub, leaning against the side. “I don’t care. I just want to hear your voice.”

You’re pretty sure it was part of your broken heart that was what made it so difficult to swallow. His confession, a simple one that tore out a piece of you. A raw presentation of how much he relied on you to get him through this.

“Is it okay if I sing?” You fill up the cup, glancing to meet his fogged hazel eyes. He was looking at you and despite the way he wasn’t totally clear headed, his presence was so intense on average that under these circumstances it still made you squirm to be looked at like that.

“I’d like that.” He whispered, leaning so you could rinse his hair. You did rinse it and were immediately pleased by how much cleaner and softer it was. You couldn’t wait until all of his was cleaned and patched up and you could just rest together in the small rickety double bed.

So you offered your voice, mindlessly humming whatever popped into your head and supplying lyrics when a full song would present itself. It was quiet, a lullaby in the mellow atmosphere of the bathroom. The tile was pressing roughly into your knees by the time you realized Azriel might not even have the energy to finish the rest of his bath on his own. You ran the washcloth down his back, between two dirty bat wings and along the muscles that stood out impressively on the male. You ran it along his front, along his tattooed shoulders and over his collarbone. His eyes were burning into yours now, aware of every movement of yours on his body, but with his attention entirely on you instead of himself. On a better day you might’ve taken the time to slowly feel across the surface of his body as you knew he would give you the opportunity to, but tonight you were strictly business. You’re careful around his injury and when he winced and reached for the cloth to do it himself, you offered it away with no complaint. After he was done with the area, though, he handed it back to you.

You paused your humming, holding the cloth out to him “Did you want to do your wings?”

The automatic assumption that he didn’t want anyone touching them but himself was not just a probable guess, but an obvious assumption. If not based on Illyrian tendencies, then based on Azriel tendencies. And they needed to be washed. Blood, dirt, scratches--- and something else that you’re pretty certain is cobwebs--- cover them in a way that you knew must feel icky.

His wet, scarred hand comes up from the water to push the cloth back towards you, wordlessly.

You gape back at him, unable to process the implications of his action. “Az, don’t you... Are you sure?” Convinced there must be some way you were misunderstanding.

There were so many things about the situation that made it more than just a brief, casual touch of his wing. He was trusting you with the whole surface area of both of them. You had never even been acquainted with the methods and rules of touching them casually. Like, how sensitive were they? If you rubbed the washcloth on them would that be too much? If they were so sensitive, then how could they use them with such brutal wing beats, supporting their bodyweight against winds? You were lost but your concern and all other thoughts melted away when Azriel leaned forward and spread his wings for you, erasing any doubts to whether you misunderstood.

“Tell me if I’m doing something wrong. Or if you’d like it a different way.” You mumbled, dipping the rag into the bath water and slowly bringing it up to his left wing.

Azriel hummed softly, nerves bouncing around at the idea of what he’d just given you permission to do. You were the only person he wanted to do that.

You lower the rag, squeezing it so the warm water trickles on the membranous skin first, testing how he reacted to just the feeling of water. He twitched at the first drops hit the sensitive area, but quickly became accustomed to it and then it didn’t seem to bother him much. You had stopped your gentle lullabies in exchange for focusing all your attention on the task at hand. When he didn’t react to the water, you carefully pressed the washcloth down. Azriel didn’t move, so you did, taking it as a good sign. As you cautiously swiped and dabbed across his wing, you didn’t miss the way he reacted to certain areas. Some of them were notably more sensitive than others and you weren’t entirely sure how to interpret the reactions they elicited. Soft sighs, sucking in his breath, tensing and flickering the muscles in his back despite his wings remaining still. You observed them and noted them for later, for a better time.

When you moved to wash the other wing, Azriel didn’t spread it out for you as much as he had the other. You gently took the task into your own hands, but even with your hand guiding it, he didn’t take the hint and stretch it like you expected he would. A curious observation that had you peering around to scan his face. Only to discover that your gentle ministrations and soft touches had put him to sleep. Your chest nearly caved at the trust in you Azriel had displayed in the past 30 minutes, but you continued washing him, ever so careful to not wake him until the very end when there was nothing left for you to do.

He rubbed at his eyes, a little dazed as he refocused on the world again and remembered where he was and what had happened. You turned to grab his towels and when you turned back around he had stood up, water pouring and dripping off the entirety of his body and back into the bloody bath. You bring the towel forward, only noticing up close with a quick glance that he was half hard. You didn’t know what to make of it, surprised that even in spite of his exhaustion and injuries and despite the way you hadn’t noticed his scent change.

Azriel noticed that you noticed, taking the towel to begin drying himself. “Sorry, I can’t...” He trailed, his voice groggy and gravely.

You weren’t even sure what he was going to say or what excuse he had but you dismissed it quickly regardless. “It’s okay, love.”

◈𝅒 𝅓 𝅒 𝅒 𝅓 𝅒 𝅓 𝅒 𝅓 ◈

Azriel dressed halfway with some old moth eaten pajamas you found in the wardrobe in the bedroom, leaving his top half bare for you to bandage him up. He promised you it wasn’t necessary and that the wound would be closed by the time you two woke in the morning. Despite that being the most words he’d said to you the entire night, it didn’t comfort you much. You knew he just wanted to sleep, but with cracked ribs and a weeping wound on top of them, you would rather stay up for an extra half hour than try to let him sleep with that unbound. The cabin fortunately came stocked with basic medical supplies, a result of Rhys’ priorities.

So you carefully, and as gently as you could, bound his injuries and fastened it so he wouldn’t strain his ribs. All guided by vague, yet helpful instructions from your patient. There was nothing that required stitches and though you wanted to fret over Azriel and his injuries for longer, it was late at night and both of you were exhausted, his own weariness taking precedence over your desperation to patch him up any further. So, at his request, you grabbed his knives from the coffee table and brought them to bedroom, sliding under the thick quilt and watching as Azriel slid Truth Teller beneath his stiff down pillow. You smiled faintly, watching his careful movements as to not aggravate his injuries. His right hand was still pressed over his ribs, making you wonder just how much pain he was hiding from you, though your thoughts dissolved when his eyes met your yours.

Azriel scans your face, taking in your features with a slowness--- a peace that you knew meant that you had done your job well.

“Thank you... for all this.” He whispered in the quiet of your room. His shadows swirled in the darkness. You couldn’t tell where they stopped and where the unlit bedroom began, the light from the the fireplace in the living room being the only source light.

You brought a hand up to his almost dried hair, running your hand through it lovingly. “Of course, Az.” You leaned forward and pecked his lips in a moment of boldness spurred by blind exhaustion and love. He reciprocated and leaned into your touch.

You two stayed like that for longer than you realized, just soaking in each others presence. Coming down from the anxiety and stress of the last several hours and just being with one another.

“That’s what I’m here for.” You muttered, bumping your nose against his before pulling back to settle down in bed.

Azriel does the same, scooting down and situating the pillows comfortably. “And here I thought you just wanted me for my body,” He mumbled and you were grateful for the reappearance of his sarcasm. He lifts an arm, inviting you to cuddle up against him and you immediately do so, appreciative of his warmth in the small cabin.

“I do. That’s why I gotta fix it.” With your head resting on his chest, you look up at him and find him looking down at you with the same lovesick look you know you wore. He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of your head and you shut your eyes at the contact, basking in the warmth of him, the feeling of his skin against yours, the safety in his arms. One of his hands comes up to bury in your hair and you sigh contentedly against him, drifting into sleep like the snow outside that had just begun to float down.

#acotar x reader #acotar #acotar fanfic #a court of thorns and roses fanfic #azriel #a court of mist and fury #acotar one shot #a court of wings and ruin #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar

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sewi-li-suwi · 4 months

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link to the wizard union/phonebook <|:)

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spicyspencerreid · 4 years

Text

Making A Move

A Spencer Reid Imagine

Female!Reader, BAU!Reader// This might be the cutest thing I’ve ever written. Short and sweet at 1300 words.

Warnings// Very unproofread; partial nudity ig; cuteness, this is so fluffy, adorable Spencer.

From a friendly anon: I'm so happy you're writing for Spencer! I've had this idea where the reader works for the BAU and is a hypochondriac (scared of getting sick) and has a lump or something on their body in a weird spot (if you know what I mean) and is freaking out about it, so even though Spencer isn't a medical doctor they still ask him. Spencer and the reader both like each other but neither realize it, so they're both really flustered, but like the reader is freaking out over nothing. I love your writing!!!

To anon: Thank you so much!!! This is my first Spencer imagine and I’m very excited about this!!! Want to apologize in advance if I portrayed hypochondria in a bad way or was disrespectful in any way!

Not my gif: enjoy!!

“Spence,” you reached for his hand and grabbed it, leading him into the small file closet. You and Spencer were about as close as you could possibly get as friends without dating. You were almost like Morgan and Garcia, but you were both more awkward about flirting with each other and flustered each other way easier than they did. You and Spencer just work. You just do. You might not have an IQ of 187, but you do have a photographic memory, slightly different than Spencer’s eidetic memory, but still very useful. You weren’t a genius, but you worked your ass off to get into the FBI the same age as Spencer. Oh, and, you weren’t a profiler, which had its perks. You were the communications liaison, and you were incredible at your job, so you got to show off your best assets. You were great at public speaking, and you still got to help the team figure things out. If you put you and Spencer in a room together, there was nothing you couldn’t figure out.

Your one flaw? You were a huge hypochondriac. It wasn’t even really a flaw, you just went the extra mile to stay healthy. It wasn’t delusional or anything, but it wasn’t exactly helpful in your line of work, since you had to introduce yourself to so many people. You washed your hands every time you shook a new Detective’s hand when introducing yourself at a new police stated, you washed your hands before touching things, etc. And when you got sick, it was a nightmare. It was basically like you were Spencer, but on steroids. Actually, it’s how you first connected.

Agent Hotchner smiled at you and reached out to shake your hand, “It’s great to meet you Agent Y/l/n, this is the team, and everyone this is Y/f/n Y/l/n,” he went through all the members and you shook their hands up until Spencer.

“Oh I don’t shake hands, it actually spreads more germs than-” he definitely wasn’t used to being cut off.

“Kissing, yeah I know. Trust me. I really, really detest shaking hands, I just can’t avoid it in this job. Hand sanitizer’s my best friend. Nice to meet you Dr. Reid.” You smiled, locking eyes with him. He stood there with glazed eyes for a second.

“Spencer...you can call me Spencer.” You walked away but Spencer stayed in his spot, speechless for once.

“Looks like you’ve met your match pretty boy,” Derek tapped Spencer’s back before walking over. Just like that, you guys became super close.

“Y/n...why are we in the file closet?”

“I need help...”

“Are you okay, I noticed you started spinning your bracelet again,” his voice was laced with genuine concern.

“Yeah, I have a medical question, or problem, I have a thing.”

“I’m not that kind of doctor, Y/n. Why couldn’t you ask me in the bullpen?”

“You’re the closest thing I’ve got to a doctor in here, you know the human body better than anyone, and...well,” you sighed, “It’s in a...spot,” you were suddenly super aware of how close Spencer was to you, only a couple of inches away.

“A spot?” You waited for it to click in his mind, “...oh! Wh-where, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I...have a lump.”

“Y/n, you don’t have breast cancer. It’s possible, but doctors most often diagnose breast cancer in females aged 55 to 64 years, the rates your age are unbelievably low. If you feel pain, you’re probably just feeling soreness from an upcoming or passing menstrual cycl-”

“No, no, please stop” you didn’t feel like talking to Spencer about your vagina right now, even though this was an issue in the same ballpark, “it’s not a breast lump, it’s like...in between...my...breasts.”

“What about it exactly did you need my help with? It’s most likely nothing.”

“Spencer. I am going insane, I’ve been doing research, and I can’t focus. I need to know what it is, but if I go to a hospital, I’ll go insane, or they’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Okay, okay, how can I help?”

“I want to know what it is...” you reached at the bottoms of your shirt, “can you...close your eyes?”

“Okay.” You watched his eyes flutter shut. You reached with a shaky hand for his hand and grabbed his thumb. You took his thumb and put it on the lining of your bra, so it wasn’t under the material, but on top of it. You swallowed and let go of his hand, “do you know what it is?”

“I think I do. D-d-does that...um...does that hurt?” He applied a little bit of pressure, but was still gentle in his touch.

“No, it doesn’t hurt, it’s just...there.”

“Um...can I?” you took a sharp breath as his cold finger went under the fabric, “Sorry, does that hurt?”

“No your finger’s just cold.” You choked out.

“I’m almost positive it’s just your sternum, also known as the breastbone. It’s the bone that connects your ribcage. Usually in women it rests in this spot. It’s only a problem if you experience sharp pains when you breathe in and out. You’re...um not breathing. Uh...can you take a deep breath for me?” Your heart fluttered at the way he said “for me”. He was right, you hadn’t breathed since before his hand was right in between your breasts. You took a deep breath, “Any pain.”

“Nope, no pain,” you breathed out, truly just relieved you weren’t dying.

“Then you’re all good.”

“Thanks Spence,” he removed his hand from under your bra.

“No problem,” he opened his eyes and made eye contact with you.

“Spencer I’m still...” he clasped his hand over his eyes.

“I am so sorry, I completely forgot you were still-”

“Yep, no, don’t worry about it, innocent mistake,” your face was on fire as you reached for your shirt as fast as you could.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah Spence?”

“You’re really pretty, and more people should tell you that,” your face heat up even more, and you didn’t think that was possible.

“You think I’m pretty?” He didn’t say anything, just nodded, his hand still over his face. You stuttered over your words, “you’ve never said anything like that before,” he didn’t respond, “You can open your eyes I have my shirt on now.” He moved his hand away from his eyes and smiled at you.

“I did research and statistically, complimenting your best friend that you really like kind of gives it way 70% of the time, but since I’m really close to you and you had your shirt off 48 seconds ago, I’m kind of nervous, which made me start rambling, and now I’m gonna stop.” You smiled at him. He was way too cute for your own good.

“You like me?” You were already nervous being so close to him, you couldn’t process his words.

“Derek said you liked me back, so I thought I’d just go for it,” he was inching closer and closer to you, “Is that okay?” You nodded and his lips touched yours, his hands finding their way to your back. He was hesitant, but still firm. He pulled away from you and removed his hands from your back.

“We should do something tomorrow night,” you said once you caught your breath.

“We could go to a movie...or something?” He shifted his tie.

“Yeah that’d be really great,” you kissed his cheek before leaving the file room, your heart still beating way too fast. You went to your desk, and Spencer came out a second later. Your smile never faded as you continued to type at your computer, glancing over at Spencer every once in a while. You watched as Derek approached Spencer’s desk.

“What the hell am I watching go down.” You don’t think you’d ever seen Derek happier.

“I made, as you would say, a move.”

eee i hope you guys like this!!!

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer fic #criminal minds spencer

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fandomlife-giver · 7 years

Text

His Maid, Escaping

Summary: If your intent is to torture me, you must try must harder than that. The only pain I truly feel is when I have to instruct my master on the concept of dancing. I'm fairly certain the phrase 'two left feet' was invented precisely for him. So a beating or two compared to that... Hmph, all I can do is smirk at your attempts.

Next time on Black Maid, "His maid, Escaping" You see, I am simply one hell of a maid.

Pairings: Sebastian x Demon!Reader

@wintersdoll

Warnings: Torture, death, partial nudity

Word Count: 4628

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The sizzling of the hot poker and the man's excited laughter grew closer as he pointed the sharp, red hot poker to the tip of your eye.

You looked at him from the corner of your eye as he placed the burning metal against the flesh of your cheek. The hot stinging reached beyond the barrier of your flesh and went straight to your bones. But not your soul.

He stood, frowning because he didn't have a satisfying scream of pain. "Oh, we have a tough one, eh?" He pulled it away and some of the flesh stuck to the poker as he did.

"This is good. Now I can try out my new method on you." He snorted and scurried away to somewhere behind you.

You looked over at the door. The pain was nothing. All you could think about was Sebastian, and how he was probably hanging off a wall, chained to it without a care in the world. He must have been having a grand time.

The man stepped closer to you with a sheet covering something. He grinned. "I have been wanting to try this for so long. But there was no one truly worthy of this pain, but you, sweetie, you will definitely be an exception."

He removed the sheet to reveal a cage of rats. The rats themselves were dirty, scrounging for anything they could find. They were hungry. He reached a finger out to pet one, but it shrieked and instead tried to bite his finger off. He caressed the cage with pride and walked closer to you.

"They haven't eaten in days and they're starving." He placed the cage on your bare stomach. Yes, bare. He had removed your corset over an hour ago. Now, you knew why. He grabbed the bottom of the cage and looked at you eagerly. "They've been trapped for longer. They want to get out now. And the only way to freedom is quite literally through you, lovely."

You glanced down as he removed the bottom and the rats fell onto your stomach's skin. You narrowed your eyes at them. "Rats..." One screeched at you and your jaw clenched when your eyes turned demonic and you hissed back. It cowered and they all sat down obediently.

Hm, rodents. Always inferior to cats.

"Huh? What is this?" He banged on the cage, which made it wobble on your stomach. "My, you've managed to tame my rats...interesting..." He reached over and picked up the hot poker. He placed it back in the open fire for a few seconds, then grinned and held it right by the cage. "But what if it gets a little too hot to handle, hm?" He touched the bars of the cage with the poker and the rats screeched. They began clawing and digging at your flesh, in a desperate attempt to leave and travel through your innards to freedom.

However, your angered annoyance had overpowered their determination.

Whether it's human or not, these small minded creatures, they will always look for every way to escape their fate. Even if it is inevitable.

Your eyes glowed demonic again and you lifted your body an inch up. The poker unexpectedly bursted into flames, lighting both the cage and it's occupants on fire. The tiny squealing of their screams filled the room and it made you smirk in amusement.

He backed away, staring in surprise and horror. "Why...how could this happen?" He stared at your amusement, and after a few seconds, began to laugh. He was laughing uncontrollably, like a mad man. "Oh...such a shame. I guess I'll have to come up for something special to truly make you beg."

He snorted in laughter. "But for now, I'll just take my time elsewhere. On the nice, pretty boy. I bet he'll be more fun." He gravely laughed and scurried off out of the room. Once the door shut, you lifted your stomach up again with more force and the cage, along with the roasted corpses, fell off.

You sighed in boredom and closed your eyes. Your gloved hands tapped the chains around your wrists as you hummed.

"I can't even begin to tell you how much this position of yours pleases me, Abigail."

Your eyes opened as the handle cranked and the table moved upwards and stopped. You looked up at the woman wearing white. You smiled at her, especially at the very revealing outfit she was wearing.

"My, did you dress up just for me? I feel very special now."

She smiled and walked closer. "Just look at you. Your mother would simply die if she saw you in such a vulnerable state. Half naked, chained to a table, and your stomach torn to pieces."

"Oh, it's just a few scratches and bite marks. Small wounds from small minded creatures. The pain is meaningless and it will mean even less, now that you're here."

"Really?" She reached inside of her corset and walked closer to you to where she was mere centimeters from your face. She smirked and pulled out two large viles. "Well, lets put that to the test."

Your smiled dropped at the red liquid that filled the viles. "I picked it off this human. I believe his name was "John Stanley"? Then again, they all look the same to me. I made sure it was fresh and I kept it special for this moment. For us."

You frowned as she grabbed your chin and tilted it up. She stared at your throat. "I hear you don't like souls anymore. That this is all you feed on. I wonder. It has pieces of the soul within it, yes, but it could never compare to the sweet taste of a fresh, ripe human soul."

She looked up at your eyes. "It must be true torture. I'm curious as to why you starve yourself like this?"

You stayed silent and she smiled. "Ah... could it be because you want to forget about what you are? In hell, you accepted the corruption. It makes your blood boil just by being called by your god given name, and you are easily amused by the minds of humans."

She let go of your chin. "So, tell me, did you say to your master or his son what would happen if you did consume a soul after all these years? No? How about your mate? Surely, you must've." She laughed. "I bet you haven't even told your precious king."

"What is your goal here?" She was taken back as you leaned your face down to hers. "It isn't just to enjoy the site of me being tortured. No. You came here for a different reason."

Her lips curled. "You always were a clever one." She sighed. "But I don't want to see that little smirk on your perfect face when I tell you. So..." She grabbed your face again and forced your mouth open. You could only make strangled noises as she opened a vile and poured the entire tube of dead man's blood down your throat.

You screamed in pain and agony as it stung, as if it was acid being forced down you. You were choking when she released you, but the effects were just starting. Angela watched in amusement, before walking around you.

"I want to give you another chance to redeem yourself."

Your eyes stung as you blinked back tears and you felt the blood building back up, climbing the walls of your throat.

"You aren't a demon, you are just playing the ideal role of one. There will always be a chance for the human part of you to take over. All you need is to feed."

Your chest began to burn and your face turned red with heat as the blood began spilling from your mouth, and you coughed it out, because it was difficult to breathe.

"Unlike before, all those years ago, you have weaknesses now. Two, you serve as a slave. And one, well, you gladly become a slave to him as long as he rewards you for it."

The remaining blood was dripping from your lips now, and you glanced up at her. "You haven't answered me."

She stopped walking in circles and chuckled to herself. She turned around and pulled out a whip that she smacked against the ground. "I want you to give your self to me."

She stepped closer. "You have more power than you could possibly imagine. You just have to give in to it. I can give you as much souls as you want, you will become a being of great power. And then, we could make them bow to us and you will never be a slave again. All I ask is that you cease your attempts of stopping me, let go of the Phantomhive Earls, forget your mate, abandon your name, and let me take you."

She wrapped her arms around your waist and smiled into your naked flesh. She looked up at you and rested her chin between your breasts. "Just let me have you, and I will be your slave."

Silence filled the room. Your head was down, your hair falling in your face as the blood continued to fall to the floor. You smirked.

"You're intimidated by me."

She gasped as you opened your eyes. "You know how easy and how close I am to defeating you. That is why you want to take me, and use me for your own selfish reasons." She tried to back away, but you pushed her with your bare leg and she was slammed against the brick wall. You kept your restricted foot on her chest and rose it up to her lips.

"Look at you. You've resulted to begging. While I am the one chained in place, you don't seem to understand who is truly the prisoner here." You leaned your head forward and smiled. "Don't you see? You are already my slave."

Her eyes narrowed as her wings spread out and she struck you through your stomach and on the side of your arm. Your leg dropped and she growled.

"We'll see who's smirking when your mate is begging for mercy."

. . .

The metal door slammed shut. Heels clicked against the floor as the person passed by the sleeping bald man and gazed up at the person chained to the wall.

"You paint quite a picture, Sebastian."

The male rose his head up and frowned once his name was said. It was covered with cuts, along with his exposed built abdomen and solid chest.

She hummed. "So this is how far you'll go. To be loyal to the master who put you here."

He smirked. "Between young lord and myself, such are the terms of our contract."

She frowned and swung her whip, which smacked against the floor. She laughed. "You don't look so good. But at least you look better compared to the foolish mate of yours across from you."

His smirk widened. "You mean I'm not the first to have been graced with your presence? How wounding."

She laughed again as she walked closer. "Don't put on a little act for me. I know you heard her screams."

"Yes, I cannot deny that." He frowned and closed his eyes. "I know those screams anywhere." He opened them and glared at her. "However, they are usually my doing."

She scoffed to herself. "Such impure actions. A real shame she actually gave in to your sinful sweet talking. Her body betrayed her mind. Though, the image of the blood she was choking on that followed after her screams was most satisfying."

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm having a little difficulty picturing that. Y/N isn't some weak human, she would never..."

He trailed off when she held up two large viles. And one was filled to the rim with red liquid while the other had been recently emptied. His eyes widened.

She chuckled. "I assume by the look on your face, you know what this is. It's interesting, why would this, out of all things, be her weakness? Someone with as much power as she, you would think this would be nothing."

His hands balled into fists as he kept his head down and the room grew darker. Angela sighed and walked closer to where she was directly in front of him.

"Enough about her. Let's focus on your master. The boy must be gnashing is teeth right now, don't you think?" She used the handle of the whip to tilt his chin up and he would look at her. "Having been shown his own powerlessness."

He forced a smile as he glared daggers at her. "Yes, I imagine that you're right." She moved the handle as he leaned forward. "However, that won't hold him back. Even if his pawns are taken away from him, forever."

"He will never pull out of the game. That is my master's nature." He smirked at her. "You should know that."

She smiled in curiosity. "Why not just admit your own nature and start acting on your own desires? This is harder on you than you're saying. How long has it been, Sebastian? Since you've last devoured the soul of a human? And now, you're injured as well. You must be beyond ravenous by now."

She turned her entire body to him and smirked. "Shall we make a deal, then?" She moved the whip up his abdomen to his chest. "The true doomsday will come in due time. And I can give you all the souls you like." She harshly pushed his chin up. "All you have to do is hand over that mate of yours. She won't listen to reason and won't give herself to me. I just need you to convince her. You are the only one she will listen to because you are the only one she trusts."

He closed his eyes. "I believe I will decline." She stepped back as his voice turned soft. "My hunger grows weary of simple, unclean souls. I hunger the taste of my young master, alone." He opened his eyes and she gasped at the darkness within them. "Still, my craving for the feel of my kitten when she is in my embrace, the soft noises and the purrs she makes. That feeling will always overpower my hunger. A soul is a soul, but my mate is mine. For all eternity."

She clenched her teeth and turned away. "Well, it seems our negotiations have been broken off. Neither of you will listen to reason. Such a shame!" She turned back and her whip slashed the side of his face.

A small noise of pain escaped, followed by more as she continuously whipped him.

"Ye unclean! Ye unnecessary! Ye unwanted!"

. . .

Blood was slowly oozing out of numerous wounds in your face, arm and stomach, a small but relentless flow of crimson, but however, you felt no pain. A part of you found the entire situation amusing. This entire case, it was a scheme to have Ciel arrested, to separate you from him and Sebastian just so she could have her fun.

"Ye unclean! Ye unnecessary! Ye unwanted!"

You felt your heart beat twice as faster as you heard Sebastian's muffled grunts of pain.

"Parish and be cleansed! The pain you feel is God's purifying fire!"

Every word stung only fueling the fire that burned inside of you. Though it wasn't you it was being said to, every violated phrase was like gasoline to it, your fists began to clench and your jaw rooted.

"Offer your blood for your sin!"

When the final mento had been added to the coke inside of you, you exploded with anger, with no control the chains that kept you bound had shattered and you dropped to the floor on your knees. You lifted your head up and your eyes flashed demonic.

"Someone is harming what is mine."

. . .

Angela was relentless in whipping him. Blood oozed out of every scratch that was seared into his flesh. He didn't show any reaction, he instead watched it happen as his body shook from the force of the pain.

That was when all the candles lighting the room blew out. Angela ceased her whipping and looked around. "What?!"

The door creaked open and bloody, scarred feet stepped inside the room. Sebastian looked up and his eyes had widened at your body. Despite the bloody scratches and scars, he saw the dried blood remaining on your chin and chest. Your exposed chest. He saw your mid-section that was torn by teeth marks, and he saw the large opened gash on your arm. By seeing this, his eyes had turned to his dark side.

Angela turned and laughed in surprise. "I'm glad you could join us. It's a miracle you can even walk after the dose I put inside of you. Did you come for more?"

Your eyes were still glowing fuischa. They were staring at the state of Sebastian. His shirt was ripped open and exposing his chest. There were scars and fresh whip marks covering every inch. There was even more on his emotionless face.

Angela chuckled in amusement and smacked her whip against the floor. "Look at you, disobeying your master. You really are a terrible servant. Well, what are you waiting for? Get angry, kill me, reunite with your mate and go off to bathe each other in impurity."

The room was filled with suspenseful silence as they both stared, waiting for you to attack. You stood still, not showing your true thoughts on your face. Angela gripped her whip, prepared to use it fully while Sebastian kept trying to make you reveal what you were going to do.

You closed your eyes and sank to your knees, before bending over, straightening your arms as you flattened your palms on the surface and bowed your head.

Angela gasped as Sebastian's eyes widened. "What-What are you doing?"

You stayed silent and turned your wrists around, then opened your palms. Neither of your contract marks were glowing and were barely visible.

"I am powerless. My master's soul is no longer with me. Ciel's contract is void as long as I do not have him in my possession." You barely lifted up your head and your eyes glowed through your hair. "I have no meaning, no purpose here." You looked back to the ground. "I am your slave."

She smacked the whip on the ground and glared at you. "Is this another one of your games? Don't make me out as a fool."

Your voice turned soft. "This is no game and I play no tricks. I am yours to have."

Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "Y/N, stop. This is no time to go rogue."

You closed your palms. "I offer myself. I only ask for one thing in return."

She frowned in suspicion. "What?"

You brought your hands to your chest. "Do not target Ciel again." Your teeth clenched. "Leave him be. And never touch what belongs to me ever again."

She looked back at Sebastian and smirked to herself, before kneeling down and lifting your chin up. She smiled.

"Abigail... I never wanted your servitude."

You kept your head down as you looked up to her. "But I accept your offer."

She cracked her whip and in a moment, you felt it snap across your back. Then again, and again, and again. You winced each time, but kept your eyes on Sebastian, who desperately wanted to break off his chains.

'What the hell are you thinking? Don't let her control you, Y/N.'

You curled up into a ball to shield yourself.

This pain means nothing. Sebastian...when the young master calls, I need you to take my corset. You will need what's inside of it to defeat this enemy.

'I refuse to leave you in this state.'

It isn't a decision for you to make. Just do it.

Angela was finally satisfied and ceased her whipping. She was smiling to herself as she walked to the door and disappeared. "Let's go, Abigail."

You stood up. As you did, your legs felt like jell-o and your vision went momentarily fuzzy. You felt your legs give out and your head was thrown back as your body went weak and you felt it collide with the floor. The last thing you could make out was Sebastian screaming your name in your head, before everything went to your favorite color.

. . .

'Y/N, Sebastian, I order you. Come and save me now!"

You woke up to an ear splitting sound. Your eyes opened up and you found yourself laying up against the brick wall of a building and you knew you were in the town's center. You managed to stand up and you were met with the back of a person. A person wearing white.

He stood, watching like a hawk, down below at the black carriage that was surrounded by unconscious thugs and in the center was Ciel, yelling at Sebastian.

"Gone? What do you mean she's gone?! She wouldn't just leave like that! I ordered her not to resist!"

Sebastian kept his head down and his voice was cold. "She didn't. She instead, gave in."

Ciel went up on his toes to grab a hold of Sebastian's coat collar and shake him.

"What do mean she gave in? Gave in to what?!"

Sebastian's jaw clenched. "Master. She departed with the angel."

Ciel's breath hitched as he pulled away and stepped back. He paced around for a good minute, then stopped and glared at Sebastian. "What happened, exactly? Tell me. I want to know everything."

Ash chuckled and turned to you. "I'm glad you're awake to see this." He looked back to them. "Just look at him. He's chasing his own tail like a lost puppy. You were right to leave him."

You ignored Ash and watched Ciel's reaction to Sebastian's explanation. He stood there, wide eyes, unmoving. He was in shock.

"So, what you're saying is she left willingly. She...She just left me, went against our contract." He ran a hand through his hair. "She betrayed me."

Sebastian's lips pressed together. "No. I don't know her reasons for leaving, but I know she does have a plan." He reached into his breast pocket and held up your red ring. "She told me to take this and it would aid us in defeating our enemy."

Ciel took the ring from Sebastian and stared at it. "I know this... I've seen this before." He sighed and handed it back to Sebastian. "Keep it safe for now. That aside, we need to pursue Lau. What good is a pawn if they defy the one who rules?"

Sebastian lightly smirk. "And what of Y/N? Isn't she defying your rules, master?"

Ciel narrowed his eyes. "She isn't relevant to this. We need to find Lau and stop him."

Sebastian frowned. "Are you certain about this? You won't be able to take back this order."

You looked to the side when Abberline popped up from the driver's seat with surprise in his eyes.

"Ciel!"

Ciel looked over at him and frowned. "You should keep your distance from me. If you want to live. My place is in the shadow, yours in the light. We walk different paths, Abberline. It's best you remember that."

He then turned and began walking the opposite direction towards the docks. "Come on. First, we deal with Lau. Then, we find out what's so special about this ring. We find Y/N and we end this - once and for all."

As they walked away, Ash looked to you with a smirk. "Well? Would you like to see what happens next?"

. . .

You were glaring at Ash suspiciously. "I'm curious, Ash."

He hummed, but didn't look at you. "About what?

You glanced down at your clothes. "When I went unconscious, all I had on was my garter, stockings, a torn white shirt and a skirt. When I awoke, I was fully clothed in a corset and a freshly clean Phantomhive uniform."

"And your point?"

You sucked your teeth and looked back at the ship. "Oh, it's nothing." Huh. Such a gentleman.

You were both observing, watching the show of Ran Mao versus Sebastian. But the fight didn't last long. Thunder crackled as Ran Mao fell back on the boards of the deck with blood oozing from her mouth. Sebastian's shoes stomping towards her was drowned out by the pounding of the rain.

He pulled down his gloves and looked down at her. "Your small body houses magnificent reserves of power. However in the end, just a human. We could call an end to this now."

She struggled to sit up. "No. No end."

"Sebastian!"

Your vision shifted to Ciel as he ran out of the smoke that covered the deck. Lau walked out behind him, while noticeably holding a sword, and smiled. "I never thought I'd see Ran Mao's strength pushed this far. It just proves what I've always suspected." He looked to Sebastian. "You're not truly human, are you butler?"

Sebastian smirked. "You may believe what you like. I am simply one hell of a butler."

You felt yourself smile as Lau laughed. "Interesting...I never knew there was another one such as you around here. All this time, I believed Y/N was the only one."

Ciel's head whipped around to him. "What?"

Lau then went on about something with butterflies and you tuned him out. But that was before Ran Mao had charged at Ciel with her blade. Lau gasped and actually made the effort to try and stop her.

"Ran Mao, No! Remember our deal with Vincent Phan-"

He was cut off with splattered sounds of the blade running through a body. Ciel gasped. "You fool!"

Ran Mao frowned. "Your in my way, inspector." Abberline collapsed to the ground with the blade still through his stomach.

As Ran Mao went to swing again, Lau ran in front of her as Sebastian caught the blade. He pulled it from her hands and threw it to the side, before slicing his arm across Lau, due to him moving n front of Ran Mao.

He stepped back and collapsed into Ran Mao's arms. "Well done, my lord..."

Ciel stepped forward. "Why, Lau?!"

"The game is over...I never did have what it took to play the game." In the blink of an eye, they were gone.

Ciel focused back on Abberline, who was on the verge of dying and knelt down to him. "Hold on, Abberline!"

He weakly smiled and cupped Ciel's cheek. "I...I'm glad that you're safe, Ciel. I-I was wrong, Ciel. You...You can have your family."

Your teeth clenched. Ciel looked at him in confusion. "No, no I can't. What are you saying?"

"How foolish." You glanced at Ash, who was frowning. "He was a foolish man."

You looked back to see that Abberline was already gone. Ciel let out a scream and when Sebastian walked up behind him, he turned and stood up.

"Mas-" He was cut off by the sound of Ciel's hand colliding with his cheek and it honestly made you gasp.

"You didn't hold up your end of the bargain. I was in danger, you did nothing, Abberline is dead."

"Because you weren't in any danger. I knew in that moment that Abberline would use his body to shiel-"

He was cut off again, by Ciel slapping him. He looked at him with a frown as Ciel turned around.

"Y/N...Y/N would never let that happen." He looked back down at Abberline's body.

Sebastian looked up and your face went blank once he caught sight of you. And of the angel beside of you.

"Yes...Fool."

#sebastian michaelis x reader #black butler x reader #black butler fanfiction

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