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indecisivemuch · 2 months

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Apples

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You tossed an apple to Luke without knowing the meaning of it in Greek Mythology (fluff, friends to lovers, happy ending)

Note: Just wanted to write something lighthearted and funny. Since I saw somewhere that apparently throwing an apple at someone means something in Greek Mythology, thought I should use it as a prompt.

Word count: 3.1k

You have been at Camp Half-Blood for a year. Within that time, you’ve been claimed by your Godly parent, learned so many things about Greek mythology, and, best of all, made friends who understood exactly what you were going through and all whom you loved dearly.

One of them was Luke Castellan. You two were relatively close friends, though you swore he treated you differently than he would with others at camp. But you didn’t want to be foolish and assumed it was something. That didn’t mean you don’t treat him differently than you would with other campers though. You have always had a soft spot for Luke in your heart. You weren’t exactly sure when it happened, but you found yourself thinking about him too often.

“Anyway, Percy. Don’t worry too much, honestly. We all have been through what you’re currently going through. You’ll fit right in, yeah?” the younger boy offered you a lope-sided smile as you patted his back and stood up.

“Alright, boys, I have to go now, but I’ll see you later,” you said before grabbing your plate, which would have been empty if it wasn’t for the apple you hadn’t eaten. The rest of the table - which included Chris, Luke, and Percy - said their goodbyes before chattering again as you walked away. However, you halted as you changed your mind about wasting the apple.

You turned back to look at the group before calling out, “Hey, Castellan.” However, you were slightly caught off guard to see Luke already having his eyes on you.

Luke swore that you have always had him mesmerized. If he even heard a whisper of your voice, his head would immediately try to locate you. To make matters worse, Chris even started calling Luke a “lost puppy” when he realized how your departure would always leave Luke like one.

“Catch,” you tossed your apple at Luke.

Multiple heads turned in your direction as the red apple hurled through the air before landing neatly in Luke’s hands. The Hermes cabin counselor had his eyes glued onto the fruit that was in his palms. You almost halted in your steps from his and other camper’s reactions. Some started whispering to their friends, pointing at you. You even heard one gasp. But you ignored them, finding it strange that people cared so much about such a small interaction.

“You can have it. I don’t think I’ll have time to eat it,” with that, you vanished from the scene, leaving at least half of the camp agape, including Luke and your friends.

Then, the strangest of things happened for the next few days. It started with Luke already stationed outside when you exited your cabin the morning after. He cheekily presented you with one singular flower in his hand, and you took it with playful words, “Ooh, what did I do to deserve this special treatment today?”

“Nothing, just thought I should show how much I appreciate you,” Luke put his arm over your shoulder as the two of you made your way to the dining pavilion. You could feel your cheeks flushing at his action. He has never done this before. With his arms around you, the sides of your bodies brushed as the two of you walked. You noticed almost immediately how every other person would have their eyes on the two of you. But you ignored the attention and focused on Luke instead.

The sweet actions didn’t stop at flowers or more physical touches. For the next three days, Luke was stuck to your hip. So it was quite strange that you have not spotted the Hermes cabin counselor in the last two hours. Hence why you were spending some time with Clarisse, another close friend of yours. However, you felt an arm swinging around your shoulders, and you instantly recognized who it was from the familiar touch.

“Hey, Clarisse, can I borrow Y/N real quick?” Luke asked, quickly muttering a “thank you” when your friend nodded. “So, I have something to give you…” your face must have shown how surprised you were because he chuckled at your reaction. However, when the boy pulled his gift out from his cargo pocket, your mouth fell slightly agape at the reveal.

Luke must have misinterpreted your reaction because he started nervously rambling, his voice a few octaves higher, “It’s not much, but honestly, this is all I can do with my arts and crafts skills. I’m just not really good with that y-”

“It’s perfect, Luke. Thank you so much!” you gave him a brief hug, but it was enough to stun him for a second. Luke felt this urgent sense of craving from how your bodies fit for a second. It’s as if he was made to hold you. He almost pulled you back into another hug but had to force himself to regain composure. Nevertheless, that didn’t last long because his eyes softened again at the sight of you trying on the bracelet he made. The beads in your favorite color, crafted with care, wrapped around your wrist perfectly, and you wonder how he knew just the right size to make it.

The truth was Luke had to ask Clarisse to steal one of your bracelets just so he could make a bracelet of the correct size. But you didn't need to know that, though - according to him.

The next night, there was a social gathering near the campfire. Luke reapproached the location with a hoodie in hand. Earlier, Luke excused himself to fetch the clothing item that was now in his hand that was meant for you. However, his brows scrunched as he spotted another figure next to you, sitting in the spot that he previously occupied. You were laughing at something they said. The way your laugh echoed in his head usually sounded like a lullaby or the enchanting voice of a siren. But right now, the idea that someone else elicited the same laugh made him want to hurl behind the bush he was standing next to.

Little did he know you were zoning out from whatever the other boy was speaking about, thus the fake laugh to not blow your cover. You were distracted just thinking about Luke and everything he has done so far - offering his portion of dessert to you because he knew it was your favorite; him winning Capture the Flag and ignoring everybody else to go hug you first, then having his eyes on you and only you afterwards; sneaking out of camp to go buy the items you mentioned once that you wish you had at camp and so on.

Your mind quickly reminded you that the boy sitting next to you was still talking to you. However, when you snapped out of your thoughts again, you realized now he was looking at you expectantly and you scrambled your mind for a reply.

Thank Gods Luke plopped down on your other side, saving you from having to admit to the other boy that you were not listening to him. “Hey, you’re back,” you commented. Luke’s arm automatically threw itself around your shoulder and tugged you to him slightly. Your body leaned on the Hermes cabin counselor ever so naturally at this before you turned to him. Luke quickly set his clothing on your lap, and you stared at it questioningly.

“You’re cold, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” your cheeks flushed again at how he knew without you telling him. You shivered maybe once or twice earlier due to the night air lowering the temperature, but it was so brief you were sure nobody had noticed. As you put on the hoodie, Luke averted his gaze from you to the guy on your other side.

The Hermes cabin counselor arched one of his eyebrows in a challenging manner. Almost immediately, his ‘opponent’ slightly raised both of his hands. Luke internally snickered at the quick motion of surrender.

“My bad, man,” you heard the other boy say as you managed to put your head through the clothing item and pull it down. Luke was physically preening at the other boy’s words and departure. Meanwhile, you were distracted by how you were engulfed by the smell of Luke from his hoodie. Your height difference also meant you were swimming in it, but it felt so comfortable.

“What was that?” you asked once the other boy was gone.

“Nothing…” even the most oblivious person could see that Luke was lying. But, once again, you did not question his actions and carried on with the gathering. You could also feel other campers staring at the two of you, but you ignored that as well.

That night - like every other night since four days ago - he walked you back to your cabin. You were honestly completely smitten by the attention he has given you, not that you would admit that to him. You were still not sure what caused the change, but you were still elated about it. Maybe he did return your feelings? Either way, everything felt perfect lately, and you went to sleep that night feeling like the stars aligned for you.

“I guess congratulations are in order?” Percy spoke up as you lined up for food the following day.

“What do you mean?” you asked, taking the plate of food. Today’s meal consisted of mac n’ cheese, steak, and an apple.

“You’re engaged?” you almost dropped your plate at that and gave the son of Poseidon a questioning look. “You proposed to Luke like a week ago?”

“What? When?”

“When you threw him the apple? That is considered a marriage proposal.”

“Since when?”

“Uh, in Ancient Greek culture, it’s considered a marriage proposal if a man throws an apple at a lady. But, I mean, it’s the 21st century, so I guess it can work both ways.” Percy finally took a plate of food for himself. “And if the recipient catches it, it’s considered an acceptance.”

“You saw this and knew this whole time without telling me?!?”

“I thought you knew! And you two seem so smitten already, so I thought you did it on purpose.”

“Percy, no! Is this a well-known thing? Do you think other people who saw it too thought I proposed to Luke as well?” Seeing Percy’s look and how he was fumbling with his words, you quickly requested, “Actually, no, don’t answer that.”

The two of you walked over to Luke and Chris with plates in hand. You picked up the apple on your plate and placed it on the table.

“Luke, we need to talk,” You deliberately placed the fruit there, hoping the boy would get a hint about the topic you wanted to discuss. Luke’s eyes flicked from the fruit to you. Though the hint of amusement in his eyes and a sheepish grin made you realize he knew all along. Luke stood up and followed you out of sight and hearing distance from other campers whose eyes were trailing after the two of you.

“You knew what it meant, and you didn’t tell me?” You broke the silence as soon as you two were far away enough.

“Listen, I appreciate your proposal. But, it’s a little bit fast, don’t you think?” Luke teased, and you instantly hit his arm at that, causing the boy to flinch slightly, but the smile on his face told you he was anything but mad at your action.

“But you caught it. So, technically, you said yes,” you rebutted, sighing as you rubbed your face, “My Gods, does everybody at camp think we’re engaged? Wait, is this a substitute for an engagement ring? Did you give this to me because of that?” you pointed to the bracelet Luke gave you, your mind now understanding Clarisse’s teasing and her implications. You could see the way Luke was stifling a laugh. He settled with saying something else when he saw the pure panic on your face.

“Sweetheart, calm down.” the nickname successfully silenced you. You hated how it made you feel, but you would not mind hearing that daily. “No, it’s not an engagement ring.”

“Oh, so were you doing all of these romantic gestures and gifts on purpose to make fun of me and the situation?” you asked, though it was more with a lighthearted tone than one of temper. However, something shifted because the expression on Luke’s face changed from one of humor to earnestness.

“No, I didn’t do all this to make fun of the situation or you…” Luke’s voice fell off as tried to find the right words to say next. In that split second, Luke took a deep breath, and you could see how nervous he suddenly became, though he still kept a light tone. “I did it because I took it as a chance to maybe…win you over, and it also gives me an advantage because it fended off many other guys.”

Undoubtedly, you were frozen in place, unable to register the words he was saying and the implications they bear. Neither did the boy in front of you act like the Luke you usually know - somebody who was usually confident, outgoing, always having his way with words. No, the person in front of you could not even hold eye contact, the pink hue on his cheeks now spreading to the tip of his ears as he shifted left and right. Luke broke the silence first, giving away the nerves that were gnawing him away from your lack of response.

“How about this? I’ll say ‘no’ to your mind-blowing marriage proposal for now,” you lightheartedly hit him again, rolling your eyes playfully. Seeing a positive reaction from you, Luke let out a small breath of relief, but the nerves quickly overtook again as he mustered up all the courage to utter his counter proposal: “But maybe we could start with something slower like going on a date? — Or I’ll even settle with you allowing me to try and ‘woo’ you.” Luke added the last bit as insurance, in case you didn’t want to take up on the date. Part of his mind wanted to scowl at himself for seeming so desperate - but Gods, he has always been a desperate man when it comes to you.

“You’re such a dork.”

“Yet you still proposed to me.”

“You’ll never let me live that down, will you?” Luke only shook his head in response. Once again, you haven’t responded to his offer. Luke could see that you were in deep thought, the cogs turning in your head as you digested what he just said.

“You mean it? That you wanna go on a date? That you wanna “woo” me and sweep me off my feet?” you questioned. Despite the humor in your voice, there was also a hint of vulnerability and cautiousness. “Does this mean what you’ve been doing for the past few days…they are all genuine?”

“Is it that hard to believe that I like you? I don’t think you even fully understand the feelings I have for you. I’ve had my eyes on you for a year now, which is the entire time I know you, and I’m afraid I can’t see that changing any time soon.” Luke had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from saying more because he was sure he would never stop talking about you if he could. Maybe those unspoken words ought to be things Luke would disclose in the future. If you give him the chance, he will ensure you hear everything he adored about you.

“Well, that’s good then, ‘cause I happen to like you too,” your words made Luke’s eyes snap to yours, almost in disbelief.

Luke felt as if his heart was blocking his airway by the way it was thumping so hard in his chest to the point he could feel the vibration in his neck. He held his breath over your confession and the way you were looking at him. Oh, Luke was convinced he was utterly doomed because how could he be so affected by one single look. He was suddenly unsure whether he would be able to handle your affections or ever live without it if it was taken from him. He’d spend the rest of eternity like a deprived man.

“Aw, look who is nervous now,” you teased, deciding to somewhat torture him and get him back for teasing you earlier. “I did not think I had this kind of effect on you, Castellan,” you approached him slowly, keeping eye contact with his now dilated pupils.

“I mean…all I did was say a couple of words and you’re all tongue tied. What would happen to you if I do this?” you swiftly grabbed Luke’s camp beads and pulled him down, eliminating a significant amount of space between your faces, though not completely. To steady himself during your action, Luke’s hands steadied on your hips and stumbled slightly, though you did not mind the touch.

You never knew it was possible for his face to flush even more, but it did. Luke gulped and your eyes casted down on the way his Adam’s apple moved when he did so. The way he reacted to you only intoxicated you with power even more. You glanced upwards a bit, eyes observing his lips for a split second before looking back up at his eyes. You smirked when you caught his eyes flickering back to yours from your lips as well.

Just as you were about to close the distance, Luke pulled back just a bit, finally able to speak, though his words were heavy warnings, “If this happens—” Luke stopped, unsure he should let you know. Luke shook his head lightly as his eyes traced over your features before continuing, “If we kiss, there is no going back for me. I don’t think I could just…forget about it. So, please, just be sure before you do it.” Your eyes softened at his words.

“I promise, Luke. I am sure,” you muttered, though Luke knew you meant the words by heart from the way you were looking at him.

You finally pulled the boy down again using his camp necklace.

As your lips touched Luke’s, he let out a content sigh. His hands clung onto your hips, pulling you flush against his own body while you caressed both sides of his face in your hands. Luke felt like the world was swallowing him whole. The boy now knew what your lips tasted like, and it felt like an addiction. He could feel his heart waving white flags at that moment, completely surrendering to you. He was right before. There was no going back from this.

But oh, if Luke knew an apple was all it took, he would have tossed one to you himself.

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sttoru · 7 months

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𝐈𝐓’𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 .

⟣ sypnosis. a nightmare of your lover’s disappearance wakes you from your sleep.

⟣ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. angst, comfort, fluff. takes place after gojo’s unsealed but before dec 24th, bits of spoilers jjk leaks 236 at the end. mentions of death, blood.

⟣ note. based on it’s happening again by agnes obel. coping rn dhmu . . . not proofread bcs i cant read through my tears anyways hope u enjoy im gonna cry myself to sleep now

everyone has to die at one point — not even the strongest of all could avoid that tragical fate. not even the strongest sorcerer you call your lover.

no, not even him. the universe couldn’t spare him. you thought that maybe, it would. maybe fate wouldn’t apply to him. oh, how wrong you were.

blood splatter—a stream of red liquid. right at your feet. right in front of your eyes. a man in half. and not just any regular man;

“satoru !”

your dark surroundings become blurry with tears, your body jolts out of its current dreaming state. you could feel your heart in your chest—in your throat. your brain shut itself off for a few seconds as your eyes try to make out shapes and figures in the room you’re in. your bedroom.

you only then realises that it was all just a gruesome nightmare. a hyperrealistic one at that; one that will haunt you for years.

“hmmh.. ‘m right here, baby.” a groggy voice next to you replies to your yell in agony. the yell that was the shape of your lover’s name leaving your lips—

you instantly turn your head to the right and there he was; the man whom just met death in your dreams. gojo satoru, all alive and well. in your bed, in your presence, in your life.

satoru’s hand aimlessly pats the space next to him in search of your body whilst he rubbed his eyes with the other, trying to adjust his sight to the dark so he could find you. you seemed to be in complete distress. which he does not like.

“it’s okay, shh, shh,” your lover hums, hand finally finding your arm. he doesn’t hesitate to pull you on top of him—your head laying on his chest.

his body was warm. his heartbeat was there. loud and clear in your right ear.

“satoru. . .” a river of tears flows down your cheeks like a dam that has been broken into. your body trembles, lungs feeling like they couldn’t get any air in them from how hard you were sobbing. the pain of losing your loved one; it all came flowing back to you.

satoru frowns, “hey, hey. look at me — sweetheart, c’mon.”

he instantly sits up and pulls you along with him. his hands find your cheeks, tilting your head up. this time it was his turn to feel his heart break in pieces. you looked absolutely distraught. as if you just went through a traumatic experience of some kind. he hated it.

“shit,” satoru mutters under his breath before pulling you into his embrace again, arms circling your waist with his head buried in the crook of your neck, “it’s okay, i’m here now. you’re safe.”

it wasn’t the first time you had nightmares when he was with you. you had them regularly after satoru had gotten sealed in the prison realm for nineteen days—nineteen days of dread for you. of an empty bed, an empty house and an empty life.

when satoru had finally been released from the prison realm it was like a dream come true. a happy dream, that is. not those repetitive, bad ones you have every now and then. you still get those nightmares of your lover being either taken away from you by force or by death itself. your brain couldn’t give you a break — even after his return.

“take a deep breath in,” satoru instructs and sets an example by doing the breathing exercise with you, “hold it for three seconds . . . breathe out for six. mhmm, good—jus’ like that.”

you repeat it a couple more times, sobbing and shaking throughout the entirety of the exercise, but eventually manage to calm down a little. satoru sighs in relief at this;

“you okay, baby?”

you nod weakly and sniff, wanting nothing more than to be held by the man you thought had vanished from your life forever. you had that scare once, when he was sealed, and you never want to go back to those dark times. ever.

“it’s— i, just—“ you hiccup once, unable to complete entire sentences, “i thought you w-were gone. i thought you had died.”

it was silent after that (except for the sound your silent sobs and sniffles). satoru had guessed by now that you saw him die in your dream — that much was pretty obvious. but, the thought that you were this distressed because of it makes him. . . happy in a way.

happy that someone would mourn over him at least.

“well,” satoru pensively replies, hands rubbing your back up and down soothingly, “everyone has to meet their end one day, you know?”

that sentence was one that was meant to lighten up the grim mood somehow. one of his many lighthearted remarks that were supposed distract you from your tears. it would work during other moments like these — were you’d be too baffled by the things satoru says to care about what you were crying for — yet today it only worsens your misery.

“shut up.” you weakly punch his chest to which the white haired male chuckles softly, his slender fingers instantly interlocking with yours. satoru’s thumb brushes against your wrist before pulling it up to his lips, placing ticklish kisses among your skin.

another silence hangs in the air.

“seriously though. . . if i were to somehow die, i’d want you to live and move on, yeah?” your lover whispers in such a quiet tone that it was almost inaudible. satoru had looked death right in the eye before — he didn’t care back then if it were actually his end.

he does now. he has the world to lose — his world — his everything. you.

satoru wants to live a happy life with you. he doesn’t want to die now that he has you. the love of his life which he wants to grow old with. maybe have kids with. start an own family away from the busy streets, away from the swarming curses in the city and away from all that sorcerer stuff. it was a nice dream.

“shut it!” you huff and satoru takes another weak punch to the chest. his gaze lands upon your tear struck face and he instantly drops the serious ‘act’.

the sorcerer laughs, his usual boyish laugh that makes you feel better, and he flips you both over so that he has you pinned underneath him. satoru grins before kissing your tummy all over, making you giggle from the ticklish feeling;

“i’m playin’, baby! i’m not going anywhereeee!” he promises through wet pecks against your skin, the smile on his evident even if you couldn’t see it — you could hear it in his voice.

satoru leaves your tummy and moves on to your neck and face. he was smothering you in affection in hopes you’d cheer up some way. he just wants you to forget about anything bad happening to him. you didn’t deserve to think about all that stuff — you deserve to be happy and full of joy.

even without him one day.

“i’d never leave my princess all alone.” satoru shakes his head and pouts dramatically, “who else is gonna spoil you? or kiss and cuddle you to bed, huh?”

you finally show an ounce of joy. a tiny smile. that was all satoru had needed to see. he wasn’t going to stop there, however. his goal was to turn that small smile into a full blown fit of laughter.

“i’m one of a kind, baby. you’re never gonna meet a man like me.” he continues with a proud grin, putting all of his body weight on top of you which causes you to groan and grumble a lighthearted complain.

satoru knows you like it whenever he clings to you and thus he uses that piece of knowledge to help you feel better. his head was buried into your shoulder, limbs enveloping your body like a koala.

“whatever.” you roll your eyes and snuggle up to your lover, closing your eyes as the tiredness hits your body after all that crying.

“whatever !” satoru mocks you in a high-pitched tone, followed by a pair of giggles from the two of you. a third and final punch to the chest finally shuts him up for the rest of the night.

the sorcerer made sure you had fallen asleep first before he whispered the next words in your ear, hoping they’d calm your mind and body so that no nightmares would ever bother you again;

“don’t you worry, sweets. i’m not leaving you. ever.”

. . .

those were the same exact words satoru wished he could utter to you one last time before the current date — 24th of december.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk fic #jjk fluff #jjk angst #gojo x you #jjk x you #gojo angst #jjk comfort #jjk spoilers

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feyascorner · 2 months

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“I love you.” The first time he says those simple three words, he doesn't mean it. Not really. And he knows you're aware of it too, with the stern glare you give him in response to his smug grin. He's teasing you—or, it looks that way anyway. In reality, he hopes that there's a glimmer, a sliver of your heart that welcomes his enticing and open arms. It’s routine. A habit. It feels more natural to lure you in with songs of promises than to simply tell you what he needs. He hopes you take his hand and ignore the sharp nails digging into your skin. He hopes you fall.

“I love you.” The second time is months later. He thinks he might genuinely mean it this time, considering how heavy his heart feels in his chest as the words leave his lips. But it’s hesitant. You can tell. And ever so patient, you only smile at him, taking his hand this time to squeeze it gently. Ah, that feels nice. Does he love you? Have you grown on his cold, dead heart? The fact that he doesn't want to recoil from your touch is enough if an answer..

“I love you.” The third time is at his grave. He’s confident now. Feeling. Wanting. He wishes he could hold your fingers against his skin forever. He doesn't want to even let go, because he fears you might vanish into thin air, like every other caring thing in his life. You're good. Understanding. Nothing like him. You deserve better than him. But he's always been a selfish man, and even though your presence urges him to be better, he remains selfish when it comes to you. He doesn't--no, he won’t lose you.

“I love you.” He’d feared he would never get to say the words again. He had faith in you of course, but an Elder Brain is no easy feat to defeat. But as he watches the brain sink into the darkest depths of the sea, the others cheering behind him, he feels the sun begin to prick at his skin again. It stings. Gods, does it sting. For a moment, he wonders if he should even run. He's had a taste for the sun kissed glow and he's not sure if he wants to part ways with it if it means he’ll rot away in the shadows forever. But when he feels you hurriedly toss a cloak over his shoulder, covering his face with the hood just enough for him to meet your eyes, you offer him something he doesn't want to ever imagine himself without again. Something he’s still in disbelief he has. Someone to worry for him.

I love you, I love you, I love you. As years pass, the words become more frequent, yet they never lose their weight, no matter how they're said or when. It’s funny, really, how he'd almost feared saying the same exact words just a few decades ago. To Astarion, they remind him that you're still here, allowing him the privilege to let him love you as much as he does.

“I love you.” The last time he says it, whether it be after an untimely death or simply from old age, he’s holding your hand again. He hates that instead of the adoration it’s supposed to convey, he hears more of the wobble in his voice as he realizes his time with you is up. Even though he's said it so many times, he finds that it still wasn't nearly enough. Open your eyes, he pleads to nobody in particular. He breathes. Why is he breathing? He doesn't need to. But the breaths become faster, and he realizes he’s crying too. Curses, how immature. Ah, your hand is so cold, almost like his own. He hates it. Don't be like him. And when he begs, he begs. Squeeze his hand again. Touch him again. Smile at him again. Live again.

Let him love you again.

#is this too corny..#idk I love him #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #astarion fanfic #astarion x oc #astarion x you

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wlntrsldler · 8 days

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THE PROPHECY | LUKE CASTELLAN

synopsis: series of events between zeus!reader and luke that started the prophecy. not canon-compliant; inspired by the prophecy by taylor swift.

series masterlist | previous | next

Hand on the throttle, thought I caught lightning in a bottle, but it's gone again.

"Do you think Thalia knew I loved her?"

There was a bite in the air, as there always was when the summer began to fade and fall began to creep up at Camp Half-Blood. It happened every year, at least for the past three years you've called Camp Half-Blood your home.

Luke sat beside you on the hard, dirt floor, looking up at the green of Thalia's pine tree. The summer campers knew of her legend, but it was the year-rounders like you and Luke who understood her sacrifice best. There was a feeling of guilt and gratitude that engulfed all of you, like the protection Thalia blanketed over the campgrounds. You were thankful that demigods had a place to feel safe, but it came at the cost of a life. Thalia should be here.

"Of course she knew," Luke replied, unconsciously yanking out the blades of grass that flourished between the cracks in the floor. "She's your sister."

"Yeah, but do you think she knew I chose to love her?" You clarified, turning your head to face him. You did this every year, you and Luke at the foot of Thalia's tree once the summer campers all left for the year. “I mean yeah, I had to love her because she’s my sister, but do you think she knows that I would’ve chosen to love her even if she wasn’t? I feel like I never told her that. We always fought.”

Each year you studied Luke and noted the things that were different. He's older now. His arms were more defined, muscles beginning to form on his otherwise lanky frame. He'd grown taller in the last few months and his body was adjusting to his new height. The pants he wore all of last summer were discarded a few months ago. They stopped short on his ankles and Luke decided that it was time to let them go.

Another bead was added to his necklace, three wooden beads clanking against each other, just like yours, when he moved his body too quickly. A new bracelet adorned his wrist given to him by a young girl in the Hermes cabin before she left to go back to Virginia for the year. Luke had a collection of bracelets stashed in his bedside drawer. It was a reminder of all the demigods he wanted to protect. Some became painful reminders of the ones he couldn't.

Luke pursed his lips, "Sisters fight. I don't think she took it personally."

Each year you studied Luke and treasured the things that stayed the same. He still had the same smile as he always did, bringing you back to when you and Thalia first met him all those years ago– just three kids fighting for your lives all on your own. You and Luke were the same age, him only your senior by a few weeks, but he took the protector role seriously. Luke was your safe place before Camp Half-Blood.

His curls were the same, especially in the mornings when he first gets out of bed; all wild and unruly, just like how he is when he wasn't carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Some people say it's because he's the son of Hermes so mischief ran through his veins, but there was nothing about Luke that mirrored his father. He was too good to be like the gods.

"I just wish my last words to her weren't that," You uttered, a bitter taste in your mouth as you replayed your last conversation with Thalia. In the final stretch of your journey to Camp Half-Blood, you and Thalia got into an argument. In hindsight, it was petty, a disagreement that any older and younger sister would have, but it felt big at the moment. You didn't speak to her for two days. And then, in the blink of an eye, there was a blinding light, and suddenly, your little sister vanished.

You don't even remember what the fight was about anymore.

"You need to forgive yourself," He said, flicking away the blades of grass he had in between his fingertips, "This wasn’t on you."

He said this every year, yet it never felt rehearsed. It always felt genuine when Luke said it. You wondered if he got annoyed at how you brought this up each year, this never-ending feeling of guilt that you didn't turn around to see if Thalia was behind you, that you couldn't protect your little sister, but Luke was patient with you. If it bothered him that you thought about it often, he didn't show it.

"Sometimes it feels like it is," You whispered, watching a singular pine fall from a branch. You like to think that Thalia did these things to let you know that she's listening. "Our dad hasn't talked to me since."

Luke clenched his jaw, wiping his hand on the fabric of his cargo pants. His warm palm took your hand, giving it a soft squeeze, "You're better off."

"Maybe."

"You are," He said, clearing his throat. His chest felt heavy as he spoke. "I have to tell you something."

You turned your hand over, lacing your fingers together. Holding Luke's hand always felt right, even when you were fourteen and he had to drag you away to safety from the monsters who were out to get you; even when you were fifteen being woken up by the nightmares caused by the empty Zeus cabin, a chilling reminder that your sister was supposed to be there; even when you were sixteen and began to take on more responsibilities at camp despite your protests. "What is it, Luke?"

"I have a quest," He admitted. He'd been keeping this from you for days. He was meant to embark on this journey today, but he pleaded with his father to give him until tomorrow to begin. He knew the day the summer campers left was hard on you.

Your stomach dropped. Luke had been waiting for a quest from his father for years. You watched him fall into a pit of despair every time a camper who'd been at camp for a shorter period of time got a quest and returned with the glory of the strongest and bravest champions. You knew Luke wanted the opportunity to prove himself to his father. This quest was it, but it didn't mean that you were enthusiastic about the idea. "When do you leave?"

"In a few hours."

"Oh."

"Are you upset?"

"No," You said, then paused. You thought about it. Luke let you think in silence, rubbing his thumb along your skin. "Yes, but I can't do anything about it. I can't stop it."

"Say the word and I will, you know that," Luke rebutted, staring at you now. "I won't go if you don't want me to."

"Luke," You sighed, "You can't deny the gods."

"For you, I'd try to." Sometimes Luke said things that worried you. You'd always been told that your allegiance should be to the gods, your parents. Sometimes you felt differently, but you never said it out loud, but Luke had no problem doing it. He made it clear that his allegiance was to the people he loved, to you.

"You should go," You said, ignoring the shake in your voice. It was tempting to tell him to stay; Tell him to be content to live a quiet life in the safety of these grounds, to be content with the glory he received from being the head counselor of the Hermes cabin, as the best swordsman at camp. But Luke craved more to life than this, you knew that. He needed more than another notch on his belt from Capture the Flag. He deserved more. He deserved a father who cared about him. Maybe this quest is the key to giving him exactly what he needed. You couldn’t in good conscience keep him from that.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." The lie burned your tongue. While some demigods returned victorious, some never returned at all. The thought of it made a chill run down your spine. It made Luke flinch.

He wrapped his arms around you. The position was awkward, but neither of you cared. When you were younger, his curls tickled the side of your cheek when you hugged him. You used to be able to look him in the eye back when you were the same height. You used to be able to memorize the features on his face; the crinkles by the side of his eyes that would appear when he'd smile, eyelashes brushing against the stray hairs of his eyebrows; full cheeks dusted with the faintest shade of pink from the beating sun or the wind chills; a crease under his lips that cast a shadow on his chin.

Now that you're older, his curls fell against your temple when he held you like this. His face was thinner, jaw more defined and cheeks hollow, like his youth was being drained from him each year. But his heart remained the same. A steady thump against your own, a beat that became synonymous with home.

“I feel like this is a test,” He murmured, shaking as he spoke. He’ll blame it on the wind if you asked, but he knows that his words would fall flat. You always did know when things felt wrong with him. Sometimes he thought that you knew him better than he knew himself. Luke licked his lips, “Like he’s expecting me to fail and prove what he’s known all along.”

“You always tell me that I’m more than what the gods think of me,” You said, looking up at him. Luke was staring at the sky, jaw rigid as he fought back the tears. There were only a handful of things that made Luke emotional– talking about his father was one of them. He used to cry when he talked about May, too, but now when someone asks about his mother, his tone turns robotic. He recited her fate like a broken record, waiting for the inevitable looks of pity from the onlookers. You brushed your thumb along his jaw, “Luke?”

“Hm?” His eyes darted to yours, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips as he studied your features. Luke always knew you were beautiful, but sometimes when he was this close to you, it knocked the breath out of his lungs for a moment, like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“You always tell me that I’m more than what they make me out to be,” You repeated, holding his face in the palm of your hand, “And yet you never believe it for yourself.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. You’d called him out on his hypocrisy more times than he could count. You were right, though. He did always tell you that the opinions of the gods didn’t matter, not when they didn’t know you like he knew you, not when they were too preoccupied in their own world to realize that you were the greatest thing they created.

“You are more than what your father thinks.”

He wanted to believe you, he really did, but all his life he’d been told that he was destined for something great. And yet the things he’d been able to accomplish so far seem so miniscule, irrelevant, in the context of the gods. He craved more.

When Luke was a child, May Castellan used to mumble the same phrase over and over again. He didn’t think much of it then, nothing that his mother said usually made any sense to his nine-year-old self anyway, but the more time he spent at Camp Half-Blood, the clearer her words became. Luke was destined for something, it’s in the cards, it’s in the hands of fate. This quest might be it, the first step to reaching eternal glory.

There are times though, during moments like this, with you beside him, when he thinks that he’ll be fine not reaching eternal glory. He can live out his life happily with just this; you and him at the foot of Thalia’s tree, with you telling him he’s more than what the gods want him to be. After all, he’d give up eternal glory if it meant being with you.

“You’re gonna be okay without me around?” He teased. For years, it had always been you and Luke. It was a type of co-dependence that made Chiron and Mr. D's eyebrows raise. They found it dangerous. You overheard them talking in the Big House about it once, how unnatural it was for two demigods to choose each other despite the dangers of it. You joked that it was a trauma bond of sorts, but you and Luke both knew that it was more than that. Neither of you said it out loud, though, both too scared to ruin whatever this was.

“No, probably not,” You confessed. Your words took him by surprise. He was expecting you to join his teasing, but he found no trace of banter in your tone. You bit your bottom lip, “But you’re gonna come back, so I’ll be okay. I need to be okay with you being gone. I can’t expect things to always stay the same.”

Luke couldn’t help but frown at your words. He knew you were right like you always were, but he didn’t like the idea of things changing. So much in his life moved with the tides, and up until he met you, he was fine with it. But the idea of the two of you changing, the idea of one day not having this, not having you, well, Luke didn’t think he could stomach the idea. His lips hovered over the crown of your head, almost touching you but not quite, “Not us, though. It will always be us.”

Luke didn’t know what he was destined to do, what prophecy the gods and the Fates had in store for him, but the only thing he was sure of was you. And that was never going to change if he could help it.

#frances writes #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke fic #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan series #percy jackson fanfic #luke pjo #pjo series #pjo fanfic

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ellecdc · 2 months

Note

i love ur writing sm!! <3 can i request a poly!marauders x reader who has the personality of kat stratford from 10 things i hate about you? reader speaks her (or their!) mind and known as a "bitch" but shes really a softie for the people she cares about. much love♡

Thank you so much, lovie!!! Hope this is what you were looking for 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

poly!marauders x feisty fem!reader

CW: burn/injury (nothing grave), use of Y/N, jokes at the expense of Hufflepuff House (no hate to the house, I too am a Hufflepuff)

By some brilliant stroke of luck, Professor Slughorn was away at some kind of Potioneer's convention in Sweden which left the Gryffindor and Slytherin's 6th and 7th year potion’s classes hosted by a substitute. That substitute happened to be none other than Professor Binns - the horrifyingly boring History of Magic professor. Normally, the presence of the ancient ghostly professor would be mind-numbing, but seeing as he’d just barely gotten today’s instructions up on the board before promptly falling asleep (and James threw a muffliato spell around him to keep it that way), the class was actually quite lively.

“How was I supposed to know we were only meant to add a pinch and not the whole jar?!” Barty Crouch Jr asked you incredulously.

“Uhm, perhaps by reading the sodding instructions!? Circe’s tits; is it Evan’s turn with your shared braincell today?” You spat as you vanished your soiled potion. The sound of an explosion, followed by Evan’s laughing, followed by Regulus hissing “Rosier!” proved you wrong.

“Ah, the braincell eluded both of you today; my mistake.” You muttered as you began your potion from scratch.

“Reggie! Y/N’s being mean to me!” He tattled from across the room.

“It’s not mean if it’s true, babe.” Regulus responded without lifting his head from his own worktable.

“How rude.” Barty whined.

“You’re starting to sound like a Hufflepuff, Junior.” You taunted as you swatted at his hands that were vying for your potions ingredients.

“How dare you. I have never been so insulted.” He seethed from his place on his stool.

You smirked. “You don’t listen much, do you?”

“Now, maybe that was a little harsh, L/N, comparing him to a Hufflepuff.” Dorcas called over to you from her worktable.

“You’re just as soft as he is, Meadows.”

“Nobody is safe…” Marlene murmured with a smirk.

Sirius and James’ potion station made a startling pop sound before James hissed in pain. “Fuck!” He gritted through his teeth.

You looked over to find James holding his arm against his chest protectively, Sirius grimacing at the sight, and Remus rolling his eyes because he told those sods to be careful. You immediately abandoned your worktable and a petulant Barty and made your way to the Gryffindor side of the room.

“What happened!?” You cooed as you gently encouraged James’ arm away from his body so you could inspect it.

“I added too much billywig sting. The potion overflowed and got Prongs.” Sirius offered guiltily. You cooed again and gently kissed the space beside the angry looking burn on James’ arm.

“Barty! Grab me the medikit from the supply cupboard!” You called over your shoulder.

Your request was met with a scoff. “I’m not one of your trained dogs, L/N. You’ll have to show me at least one tit before I’m at your beck and call.”

He barely had time to duck as you hurled a beaker at him.

“Okay, okay. Salazar’s saggy balls, you’re wicked.” He muttered as he made his way to fetch the medikit.

Remus was planning to let those bell-ends clean this up on their own, but he relented at how sweet you looked as you fussed over James; unable to hide his fond smile as he made his way over to his three lovers from his own workbench he shared with Peter.

“What did I say at the beginning of class?” Remus asked impishly. Sirius seemed to gulp a little before he murmured “to read twice, add once”.

“Mhm, and what did you do?” Remus continued.

Sirius, now growing tired of feeling shamefaced, muttered “obviously not that…” which earned him a pat on the arse from the werewolf.

Barty returned with the medikit and leaned his cheek forward as if waiting for you to press a kiss to it for his assistance. You whacked him in the head with said kit before opening it to find the burn paste and poison neutralizer.

All contempt melted away from your face as you turned your sights from your potions partner to one of your three boyfriends. “It might sting, but I’ll try to be gentle.” You murmured to James as you began to work on his wound.

As Remus peered at the burn, it really didn’t look all that bad – but the way you were treating James made it seem like you thought he was going to lose his arm. Suddenly, Remus saw a small wet mark land on James’ arm from where you were hovering over him.

“Dovey, you don’t have to cry! He’s okay.” He cooed at you as he began rubbing soothing circles onto your back, pressing a conciliatory kiss to your temple.

“M’not crying.” You muttered somewhat petulantly. “The smell of flesh burning off of Jamie’s arm is assaulting my sinuses.”

Sirius officially seemed more distraught that he upset you than he did about burning James.

“Oh, my poor, sweet girl.” Sirius murmured at you as he pulled you away from James’ arm.

“I’m not done, Sirius!” You argued, though you never tried to pull away from Sirius’ grasp.

“Remus will finish up angel, give Sirius hell for me.” James winked at you. You flushed at the attention and hid your face in Sirius’ chest.

“Poor lovey, so worried about her boys, hm?” Sirius cooed into the crown of your head where his lips were pressed. You hummed in the affirmative.

“What the actual fuck?” Barty interrupted the moment as you all turned to take in his astounded face. “You’re holding a Chinese Chomping Cabbage that close to your jugular, Black? Do you have a death wish?”

“No need to be jealous, Junior. Your boyfriend is right over there.” James goaded from his place as Remus finished wrapping up his wound.

Not needing to be told twice, Barty all but skipped across the room to Regulus before he threw himself onto the quiet boy’s lap. Regulus, hardly sparing his boyfriend a glance, stood and dumped the boy off his lap before returning to his stool and carrying on with his potion.

You could no longer see Barty from your place in Sirius’ chest but based on the vibrations from his torso and the chuckles of your other boyfriends, you were sure he was flat on his ass.

“I hate it here.” He cried.

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orphicrose · 2 months

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Are you still doing requests? Can I request Alastor x Wife reader who were married together alive an reunited in hell and while Alastor hates modern tech the reader grew on it and even started a life hack channel on voxtube of tricks from the 1920s and it becomes really popular and she gets sponsors and fan mail meanwhile Alastor needs Angel's help just to video chat her and one day she gets a 5 million subscriber mileage congratulations gift box (that all creators get bit hes still mad) from Vox himself

Old man and an Iphone

Requests are still open indeed.

I can definitely do my best! I’ve changed the dates around a little to better fit the technology advancements in the universe. This is set in the early 2000s

This is somewhat small, but i hope you like it.

----------------------

Years passed like turning pages since your husband had departed from you, in the cruelest ways that anyone could imagine. A fate that wasn’t even inevitable. That singular fragile piece of metal, shot from an unknown hunter, took him away from you.

You knew who he was, you knew what he was. Knowing that you’d end up in the same temple of horror one day that he has. His sins being your sins. That brought you some peace. Knowing you’d be reunited one day. Even if it was in the worst place imaginable. Hell. That day came sooner than you’d like to admit. Leaving behind your clueless grandchildren and your own hellish spawn.

The ground below you hit rather hard, not even knowing you were falling down the rabbit hole till the bottom came right to your face. You let off a grunt in response. Your body feeling light, all of a sudden. As if the age and wrinkles had just vanished, and you were young again. Legs feeling like they could run miles, and skin, well. Your new hellish form wasn’t much of an improvement from leather skin.

Knowing for years you’d end up here, it wasn’t too difficult to take in. Accepting your sins and your fate as a part of your journey. It wasn’t so bad. There was society, and structure down here. Immortality being the only true torture.

The other torture, you had no idea where your dearest Alastor had ended up. It had been almost 70 years since you’d seen him, god knows what he looks like now. Your reunion was sudden, after all, he was a well known overlord. Yet, it was still something out of a textbook romance novel.

Over the next decade or two, you two spent every second together. Refusing to be apart again. You sharing stories about your children, grandchildren. Melting Alastor's heart like he never thought you could. There was so much catching up to do. After time, you became infatuated with the media, creating your own channel. it was called "Hellish crafts", which started with a bunch of silly tips and tricks when it comes to house work. Alastor didn't understand, but it came with a hefty income.

After becoming tenants at the misguided daughters of hells hotel, you soon began helping with advertisements. Which grew the channel even more. From random life hacks, to advertisements, to smaller channels asking you for your help to grow theirs.

"Must you film me, dear?" his hand covers his face as the camera fizzes out of focus.

"Yes! Its for Charlie. Lighten up old man" You teased him, filming the hotel lobby. He smiled at your expression, resting a hand on the small of your back as you did your craft.

"Y/n! Y/n! Another letter for you!" Niffty ran over

Alastors hand dropped, snatching the letter from the little goblin.. Eyebrows furrowed. "This is the third letter in the passed three days, sweetheart"

"What can i say, my channel is a hit" One eye was closed as the other was pressed to the run down camera that Alastor insisted you used. Still walking slowly around the hotel, trying to get a good shot. Alastor stood in his place, reading the letter. "Another delusional fan" He mumbled.

"Don't worry! i wont let the fame go to my head" You swung around with the camera, getting him in frame. The static of his aura interfered with the lens and gave your brow a small electric shock. Jolting you backwards.

"I've warned you about that" He chuckled, hand returning to your waist and pulling you closer. His other hand with the letter, raising, and a fit of flames emitted. Turning the letter into ash on the floor, which nifty didn't wait to clean up.

Life was like this for a while, constant letters. Some weird, some genuine. But you never got to read most of them, as Alastor made it his duty to send them to another realm before you could. was he jealous? maybe, he'd never care to admit it though. That was until a rather glamorous piece of paper fell through the letter box on this particular day. Stamped with Vox's logo. You got to this letter first.

"What the fuck?" Your almost angry tone alerted Alastor, whose body materialized next to yours in seconds. "What's the matter, my dear?" his eyes briefly scanned over the letter before snatching it from you.

"What is a 5 million subscriber?"

"Its the amount of people who support my channel, i honestly didn't even know it was that big." you stared up at him, waiting for some sort of outburst on his face.

"That's... " he thought for a second "Wonderful dear! Absolutely wonderful!" his arms wrapped around you in an embrace, spinning you around. When you first started the channel, with his knowledge, it was more of a way to pass the time. So, for it to be as big as it is now was quite the accomplishment. What kind of husband would he be not to support his perfect wife, he thought. Whether she was practically paying vox or not. His quarrels weren't hers.

"I believe you have some type of reward, y/n" He spoke again, putting you down and giving the letter back. His sharp nail pointed at a fine print at the bottom. 'Visit the Vee headquarters to redeem your reward'.

You both looked at each other, brows raised and a concerned look in your eyes. "I'm sure it's not important. I don't need a reward"

He looked as if he was in deep thought. Contemplating everything for a second. "You should go" "But vox is your-"

"Hush, little woman" His finger covered your lips "This is important to you darling. I trust you"

The smile on your face made his bigger, making you deserving of the little peck he placed on your lips before adjusting his posture. "On the condition that my shadow follows your every move"

"Done"

A few hours had passed since your departure, Charlie offering razzle and dazzle to escort you to the large mansion on the other side of the pentagram. It was quite the journey, considering the traffic. And it wasn't long before Alastor began to miss you, wondering if you were okay.

"Ahem" static gave Angel a brief episode of tinnitus before he swung his body on the lobby sofa, met with the lanky deer.

"Waddya want, pimp?" his attention didn't last long, his phone having far more interesting contents than the demon lurking behind him.

"I need a favor" his smile made the question seem a lot more sadistic than intended. His body swiftly moved around the sofa, standing in front of the spider now.

"If you want my soul, I got bad news for ya."

"Your soul?" He was almost confused for a second "No, i need help with this" he lifted his hand, angels phone disappearing and reappearing in the deer's grip.

"Wh- hey! Give that back" Angel leapt to his feet, reaching up and snatching it back. "Why do you want help with a phone? Aren't you like, from the dark ages?"

It took Alastor a moment to be able to admit to it. "I'd like... to call my wife"

"Awww, is someone clingy" angels teasing didn't last long before radio dials appeared in the demons eyes, radio interference filling the air as quickly as it had disappeared earlier. "Okay, okay" Angels hands flew up in surrender, Alastor returning to normal instantly. "Splended!"

It took a moment for Angel to flick through the thousands of contacts he had, before he finally reached you. Pressing the call button and handing the phone to Al. Who held it like an old grampa looking at a meme. "What do i do now?" he squinted his eyes at the device in his hand. "Just hold it" Angels voice became frustrated as he readjusted the phone in Als hand.

You had picked up the call a minute ago now, on your way back to the hotel. Being greeted to the two boys bickering. "Helloooo?" you sung out, attempting to get their attention.

"Oh. Hello my dear!" Alastor noticed to and bared his teeth in an awkward smile. "I just wanted to see how my love was doing, is all"

"How sweet. I will be back soon." You had many questions to ask when you were back with the comfort of your person.

"Do hurry"

#fanfiction #x reader #request #reqs open #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin angel dust #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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itsjunear · 3 months

Text

"Hidden feelings"

Az x reader

Warnings: None, mention of loneliness, death and a little anger.

Note: Hello again! Thank you for taking the time to read me. I'm sorry if this is a disaster again, English is not my first language but I do what I can. Maybe I'll do a second part, I don't know yet. Again, thanks for reading even though I may not be very good at this.

I was listening to this song while writing this and I really loved it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Was it a good idea to come today?"

I shrunk a little in my seat and swallowed hard. Of course, it had been a good idea; I was with my family. With mine, I reminded myself.

However, I couldn't help but feel a little... alone.

Rhys was in front of me, laughing at the story Feyre was telling him about one of the children attending painting classes in her studio, and Amren watched her amusedly with a glass of wine in her hand.

Cassian was at one end of the room, engrossed in listening to Nesta's account of how the Valkyries' training had gone while she adjusted a lock of his hair.

And Az... the shadow singer was chatting with Elain, who smiled sweetly at him, and she talked to him about the new flowers she was planting in the front part of the house, in her lovely garden.

My heart squeezed a little, and I approached the window.

I gazed at the view; the lights twinkled cheerfully across the city, quite contrary to my mood. I sighed and took a sip of wine. Mor was visiting the Winter Court, so I had no one to get drunk with, even though I was very sure that anyone would have agreed to the request. They wouldn't have asked questions; they wouldn't have asked why I desperately needed to drown myself in drunkenness; they would have simply accompanied me.

But I didn't want to interrupt; I didn't want to ruin their states of... happiness.

They deserved it after all; each one deserved whatever moments of happiness they had, and I didn't want to take that away from them.

I discreetly turned my gaze back to the shadow singer, and a deep pain invaded my heart. There was no trace of Az's shadows, who was smiling at Elain in a way that felt very genuine. And she returned the gesture. Part of me could understand it, the sweet Elain, who could resist her? She was so delicate, so kind, and she had won everyone's heart.

She wasn't to blame for any of my feelings; she wasn't to blame for my secretly being in love with the shadow singer for over three hundred years and never having told him. That was my fault.

"Maybe you should stop looking at the window as if it were your enemy, or it will think you really hate it" Cassian joked beside me.

I turned my gaze to him and smiled slightly.

"I didn't see you at training today," said as he gently squeezed my arm as a show of affection. I shrugged, feigning indifference. "I wasn't feeling well."

Lie. I hadn't gone because it hurt to look at Az; I knew he would be there, and I... well, maybe it wasn't entirely a lie; I did feel a little unwell. Not physically, of course.

Cassian put an arm around my shoulder and looked at me with concern. "Is everything okay?"

No. Yes.

I forced a smile on my face, convincing enough not to ruin his evening. "Yes, Cass. It's nothing," I downplayed it. "A little food will cheer me up." Cassian smiled slightly, but the concern didn't vanish from his eyes.

I had never told anyone about my crush on Az. No one. And I supposed I had hidden it enough not to raise suspicions.

"Well, I'll tell them it's time to eat, or you'll get grumpy," he said. I laughed a little as I nudged Cassian lightly. Minutes later, we were all seated in the dining room.

Rhys had sat next to me, followed by Feyre. "May I know why you've become so lazy that we now need to schedule an appointment to see you?" a voice spoke in my mind. I smiled without looking at Rhys as I served myself some salad. "I have a very busy schedule, High Lord," I replied aloud. Rhys raised an eyebrow, but he didn't press further.

Grateful that he didn't ask more questions, I looked up only to meet Az's eyes staring at me intently. I smiled slightly as I watched his shadows swirl behind him and coil around one of his round ears.

Okay, maybe I had been avoiding everyone a little, it's just that I didn't want to infect them with my bad mood. And I didn't want to hurt myself more by seeing Az with Elain.

The shadow singer continued to look at me, and I furrowed my brow. "Do I have something?" I asked. "Aside from a bad mood, nothing," Cassian teased as I kicked him under the table before hissing. Nesta chuckled softly.

The conversation flowed slowly; everyone conversed with everyone, and I simply listened. I enjoyed the naturalness with which Feyre laughed at a bad joke from Cassian and the way Rhys howled when Amren teased him afterward. I even enjoyed the dessert Elain had prepared, complimenting her on how delicious it had been. But I never looked at the shadow singer. I didn't want to torture myself anymore; I didn't want to hurt my heart anymore when I thought about how much I longed to be close to him. So, for my own sake, I resisted sneaking glances at him.

Then something Rhys said caught my attention. "... happened on the outskirts of an Illyrian camp. It ended in the death of four females." Horrified, I looked at him. "I didn't get any coherent or hole-free answers about what might have actually happened," anger emanated from him, from the rage that tinged his voice, I could assume he was quite frustrated with the situation. Feyre put her hand on his, trying to reassure him.

My friends deserved peace; they deserved these moments of peace. So, I didn't think twice before offering myself. "I'll go, Rhys."

"No," Az said quickly, his voice firm.

Cassian looked at him but didn't say anything, apparently in agreement.

Maybe it was anger that surged through my spine and made me act like an idiot. "I wasn't asking for permission," I spat out each word slowly. The shadow singer tensed as he frowned, the shadows behind him stirring. "It's very dangerous."

This time it was definitely anger boiling under my skin; I wanted to go on this mission so they could continue to be at peace, but also to get away from him. I needed a break from thinking about his eyes, from thinking that every part of him seemed beautiful to me. Even the hands he hated. "I'm old enough to make that decision," I simply said.

"I'll go with you."

I felt my whole-body tense.

"No" Az gave me a hurt look, and I regretted behaving like this, but I needed to get away. To distance him. "I can do this alone; the others need you here," I added quickly.

"Rhys," I called. He looked at me a little indecisive, debating whether to side with his brother or mine. He looked at Feyre, and I guessed they had a conversation mind to mind as they usually did when they had to make a decision.

"Alright. But you'll report in every day," Feyre concluded. I smiled gratefully, and she returned the gesture, although concern also shone in her eyes.

The room filled with tension.

"She's not a spy," Az declared with a frosty look.

"Enough, Azriel," I said irritably.

Why did he insist so much on this? I was perfectly capable of doing it. I had gone on more dangerous missions and come out unscathed. This shouldn't be so complicated, and I felt that justice needed to be served for those four dead females. Cassian cleared his throat, bringing me back to reality in my seat, and I looked at Rhys with a polite smile. "I'll leave at dawn tomorrow. You'll get a report in the evening,"

Rhys nodded, and dinner ended without any further incident. However, I felt the intense gaze of the shadow singer on me for the rest of the night, until I fell asleep on the couch while some continued to drink.

In the midst of unconsciousness, I felt warm hands lift me up and a hard chest brush against my body. Drowsily, I buried my head in the crook of the neck of the one carrying me and relaxed when a familiar pine scent enveloped me. He gently laid me down on the large bed and took off my shoes almost reverently.

I might have imagined it, but I clearly felt how before leaving, he placed a kiss on my hair and closed the door, leaving me engulfed in darkness.

#acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #bat boys #i dont know what im doing #Spotify

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frostbitebakery · 5 months

Text

A Disturbed State Of The Natural Environment, Gods-Fucking-Dammit

A Pada-Wan Story

for @lttrsfrmlnrrgby

“Obi— Commander Kenobi-“

“You can call me Obi-Wan, Cody,” the kid huffs. “Neither you nor I will suddenly combust into a ball of fire if you do.”

You don’t know that, Cody thinks, not liking how his voice sounds in his mind.

Four days since the incident - or, “The Incident,” how Boil and Waxer like to say in unison with the bucket lights under their chins -, two since the 104th of all Battalions received their signal and towed the 212th fleet to the nearest station within the Republic that would allow them to overhaul the ships’ electronics.

It has been exactly two point five hours since Wolffe stopped wheezing at Cody over comms. Nearly as much time as the kid had vanished from under Cody’s paranoid nose.

“Councilor Kenobi is safe and sound,” General Koon had assured him while Wolffe stood at perfect parade rest a step behind, shriek-laughing his armor off.

The kid sighs. “You have come here for a reason?” he asks, stubborn and prim. “Or is Wooley babysitting me not enough?” He points a thumb over his shoulder to Wooley popping up several yards away, waving.

“If you haven’t noticed Hook, Line, and Sinker also keeping an eye on you, my trepidations are justified.”

The kid rolls his eyes, gesturing to three empty looking spots in the distance. “I am well aware Master Koon is in league with you.”

Cody will not explain safety precautions again. He’s saving that for when the kid really sets out to stomp on any and all walls Cody had to hastily and thoroughly built when his General, his partner, suddenly turned into a child at the worst possible development stage for Cody’s sanity.

The kid studies him while Cody is trying to come up with a legitimate reason for looking for him. Direct admittance to personal concern would backfire on Cody in multiple, entertaining ways, and he frankly doesn’t want to deal with that. From the kid being smug that Cody cares about him very much so keeping his distance must mean something more. To accusations of not trusting Obi-Wan (which, correct, Cody doesn’t know him after all), seeing him as a kid (also true) when he’s sixteen and basically a stone’s throw away from becoming a geezer.

Sixteen. Cody shudders. He remembers very well that half year when he was that developmental age. He shudders again. Gods, the mood swings alone.

“I am reasonably paranoid about your welfare,” he says at last. Wooden which makes him cringe but he’s never lied to Obi-Wan and he’s not starting now.

The kid stares at him for a while. One corner of his mouth quirks up with a shrug and a shuttered look in his eyes Cody desperately wants to make better. “It’s different when they really are out to get you, isn’t it.” The Council had explained how precarious his older self’s safety was at the best of times. Cody had only seen the aftermath and the accompanying ranting about life choices with the occasional visibly happy understanding that Obi-Wan could, actually, grow a non-patchy beard when he’s got a few more years on him.

“May I sit with you?” Cody asks. Shoveling his own metaphorical grave is so much easier with mixed signals after all. But he misses the older Obi-Wan. It’s not fair of him but he needs this.

The expected blush blooms on freckled cheeks. “Yes, of course!” is the eager reply, followed by more blushing.

It’s endearingly cute and Cody would like to chew on his bucket now.

The kid scoots over, wide eyed and expectant.

Gingerly, Cody lowers himself, ignoring the armor digging into his ass and thighs. And lets the silence stretch.

This, really, is what he came here for. A self-indulgent little break to catch his breath. The High General of a Systems Army is compromised and that fact has to remain eyes only to an exclusive handful of people. Only the Jedi Council knows out of obvious necessity. So it’s up to Cody to keep everything else running, keeping the admiralty in the dark because even teenaged Obi-Wan had said he’s got a bad feeling if they were to tell the brass. So they haven’t.

Usually, when flimsiwork and war horrors keep stacking up and expand into an avalanche, Obi-Wan and Cody sit together in silence, sharing a precious cup of real tea, being together and lending support and strength they can’t find for themselves but can always, always find for each other.

Selfishly he wants that strength from Obi-Wan now, the warmth of his body nearby. He’s already breathing easier.

The kid is looking at him curiously, but Cody chooses not to say anything. Instead he turns forward once more, watching the busy night markets of the station and the stars behind it. After a moment the kid does the same.

Shoulders slowly relax and the silence becomes comfortable.

#obi wan kenobi #commander cody #codywan #star wars #star wars fanart #frostbitebakery art #padawan obi wan #what are you going to do when Jedi robes are too big #you go to a storage closet and cry #poor cody #ahhh it’s been so long since I promised to draw this!#de aged!obi wan

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bluecollarmcandtf · 3 months

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My Found Family

I never grew up with the luxury of family. As an orphan, my childhood was lacking to say the least, and it left me jealous of any kid with caring fathers and siblings. That's why I had to find my family. Nobody's perfect, but with a little reconditioning, I've trained them to be exactly what I was looking for.

This guy is now my father...

"Breakfast is ready, boys!" I call, using my lower register like I'm supposed to, "Whoops! I mean bacon-fest!"

Guttural laughter comes from my stomach even though I don't find my joke that funny. Bad jokes like this have sort of become my personality lately. In fact, my whole life has transformed over the last couple days. A week ago, I would've never imagined myself strolling around my house in nothing but underwear and a robe! My standards for style seem to have vanished along with pretty much every other part of my old way of being.

It happened three days ago at a grocery store, when I ran into this guy in the produce section. He caught me examining avocados for ripeness and walked right up, beginning to talk like we'd known each other for years.

It was all a bit bizarre, but I found myself unable to turn away. He was explaining my life to myself. Well, not my life, but the one he wanted me to live, the one I was meant to live, and I hung on his every word. He was maybe six years younger than myself, but I was to be his new daddy. It was a role I was proud to fill.

"Here you are, son," I grin widely, unable to contain the feelings of pride I have as he walks into the room.

"Thanks, old man," he answers and grabs the plate gratefully.

For a moment, I stand there and stare. My heart beats for my boy as he tears apart the food I made for him. My paternal instincts have been working overtime lately. I can't help but love that boy with every fatherly fiber of my being.

It doesn't matter that I never wanted kids before. Previously, I'd wanted to remain a bachelor forever, but I have them now, and it couldn't feel more perfect.

With a content grin, I turn back to the sizzling bacon and think about my day. Things I used to hate were now what I looked forward to; mowing the lawn, washing the car, cleaning the gutters. I have a full day of work ahead of me to keep this house in tip top shape. Of course, I'll do it all with an ice cold beer in my hand. I never had a taste for the stuff, but my boy thinks I should grow a bit more of a gut.

I know what I say goes around here, but I could never say no to my favorite son...

I obviously have dad wrapped around my finger, but he's not the only member of this family. This next dude is my new big bro...

"Fuck yeah," I grunt and sniff up the ripe stench under my arm, "Smells like a real fuckin' man!"

I toss the barbell down, finishing a new personal record on the bench press and I couldn't feel more pumped. My tank top and sweat pants are drenched with sweat, but I love bein' a nasty gym rat: at least, I do now.

A week ago I was waiting tables at this fancy restaurant, when one of the customers got to talking with me. He was sitting alone and looked kinda sad, so I tried to be friendly and I'm sure glad I did! I got a whole new family out of it. He made me quit my job and move into this sweet place. Now I'm his big brother!

Of course, like all big bro's, I'm supposed to work out in the garage all day. I was never one for weights, but I couldn't imagine my life without them anymore. I like to push my limits and get all hot and sweaty. Then I march around the house flexing and farting all over the place. It's not the most refined thing in the world, but my bro explained to me how much I don't care about hygiene and all that crap.

"Wassup, little man," I call as he saunters in.

"Nothing much," he answers, staring at my arms while I show off my biceps.

"Alright, get out of my space. I'm tryin' to work out," I snarl, acting as tough as possible, "Do I need to wrestle you again to prove my point?"

I definitely didn't used to be like this. I used to be the most polite and approachable guy in the world, always chatting random people up, but that guy's gone. My bro got rid of him and his old family. This new family is the only one I'm interested in now, even if I'm not supposed to show it. I'm supposed to be muscular, rude, and gross. It's who I am now.

"Alright, I'll leave you to it," he replies, "You can wrestle me though."

"I will," I frown, flexing even harder, "And this time, I'll win!"

Whenever we wrestle, I always end up with the urge to let him win. It sucks because I could easily beat him, and I should put him in his place, but for some reason, I just know I have to let him win. He just deserves it I guess.

I give him an intense glare and then return to my weights. These arms aren't going to pump themselves...

My big bro always makes my legs quiver, but I love seeing how cocky he can get. Of course, he'll never out wrestle me no matter how big he gets. I programmed him to let me win. Just like I programmed the breadwinner of the bunch...

A short groan rumbles from my lips. For some reason, everything has been disappointing me lately: my sons, my husband, my job has all been leaving me grumpy and frustrated. Even the channels on the TV aggravate the living hell out of me. I have to fight the urge to chuck the remote across the room.

"How was your day, honey," my husband asks, walking into the room and handing me a beer.

"Great," I moan without any emotion.

Everything's been changing so fast lately, and I couldn't be more over it. I was married to my work, busting ass for years to get promotion after promotion, and I had a job I loved that paid extremely well. I couldn't be more happy, even if I was the only unmarried guy in the office. I didn't mind. I loved my bowling league and my solo trips to Vegas too much to settle down.

Then I met him, my son. Well, he wasn't my son at the time, but after talking, I quickly realized who he was and who I was to him. I'm the head of the household, the disciplinarian, the breadwinner. At least, that's who I've become.

"What's for dinner?" I grunt, peeling my eyes away from the TV.

Looking at my husband, odd feelings bubble up. I used to know him as my neighbor, a nice enough guy, but now I'm married to him. It all happened so fast. He's changed too recently, I think. The guy I knew a week ago would've never walked around all day in a robe and underwear.

His hand reaches out and holds my own, "Steak and potatoes if that's alright with you."

I grunt in agreement, turning back to the TV. My husband's presence stirs my cock to life, straining my member against my work slacks.

This is another new development.

Until now, I'd never had a gay bone in my body. In some ways, I still don't, but my son explained how I should feel about my husband. I should love him, I should be turned on by him, and I should get it on with him. He's right, I suppose.

"Hey, I could use a blow job before you get cooking," I gesture to the thick tent in my pants.

My husband pauses for a moment like he's unsure of what to do, but then it comes to him, "Of course, babe, but we need to be quiet. Both of our boys are home right now."

"Don't worry about it. If they walk in without knocking they'll get the belt," I snort as my husband gets on his knees in front of me.

"You shouldn't be so hard on-" before he can finish, I've shoved his face into my crotch.

Somehow, I know I can be rough with him, just like I can be rough with our sons. I'm the man of the house after all. Within seconds I'm grunting in pleasure while staring at the evening news broadcast. For some reason, I always find myself watching it and complaining about current events. It's just who I am now..

I grin, sneaking a peak at my two dad's going at it in the living room like the good little couple they are. My new family couldn't be more perfect, but no family is complete without the dog...

"Ruff!" I bark, gleefully scampering over to the bowl of food that was just placed on the floor.

Without hesitating, I shove my face into the bowl, sending the little pellets flying everywhere. They taste like cardboard, but for some reason, I can't get enough of them! I've done nothing but drool and whine for the last hour while the real humans eat their dinner at the table.

"That's a good boy," a voice coos, and I feel fingers running through the hair on my head.

I can barely acknowledge being petted. I know I'm supposed to act like a hungry animal right now, so that's what I do.

I would've never thought I'd find myself as a house pet, but a couple days ago, this guy just walked up to me and talked me into it. It'd just been a normal day for me, working at the car garage when he became my master. I knew right there and then that I had to drop to my hands and knees and follow him home with my tongue out.

My new life has been great ever since. My masters play ball with me outside, they hose me down when I get muddy, and they snuggle with me on the couch at night. I barely even miss my old work and fiance!

"Alright, boy," one of my master's commands, "That's enough. Get in here!"

It's the mean one. The one who used to own this house, but is now just a working dad. He's always the one who hits me with a newspaper when I drink from the toilet. I don't know why, but I just feel compelled to do it!

Licking the bowl clean, I abandon it and crawl into the living room. There, the entire family is gathered around the television.

I stop by the smelly one and sneak in a few licks. I love licking him because he's always salty with sweat and smells funny. After licking his feet for too long, he kicks me away, "Leave me alone, mutt!"

"Oh don't talk to him that way," the nice one adds.

I climb on the couch and curl up beside him. His belly is always the perfect cushion for my head to rest on, and he always lets me lick his beer bottle when he's done. Within a couple minutes, I'm drifting off as his hands absently play with my hair...

...sitting with my family at night is always my favorite part. Watching TV with my two dads, brother, and dog heals the child in me that had always yearned for this. Sure, it might be easier to just go to therapy, but this is sure as hell a lot more fun!

#gay hypnosis #gay mind control #mind control #hypnotized #hypno story #gay ai art #male transformation

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samthestrangerthingsfan · 4 months

Text

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: established relationship, Eddie is an emotionally constipated lil guy who's scared of his own feelings, adorable nervous energy, so much fluff its gross

AN: BRUV i wrote this in about a half hour ago and now its up and i BARELY edited this so please be gentle! I love you guys, have the best weekend!

I can’t fucking say it.

Eddie has been pacing back and forth in his room for the past 45 fucking minutes.

He’s tried saying it looking in the mirror, looking at his feet, hell, he even tried staring out the fucking window.

Nothing.

He can think it—that’s the easy part. Those three little words play in his head like a god damned broken record.

When he’s not around you, he’s thinking it. When he’s just left you, or on his way to you, he can feel it on the tip of his tongue.

Oh, but when he’s with you? It’s like a big flashing neon fucking sign buzzing in his brain:

EDDIE MUNSON LOVES HIS GIRL.

It should be easy, no? To look you into your dreamy eyes and tell you.

Let’s try this again.

Eddie bounced back and forth on each foot, shaking the nerves from his hands. “C’mon, Munson. Don’t be a chicken shit…”

He let out a few quick breaths. “Okay, okay…”

Eddie’s brain is screaming at him. Telling him to say the fucking words he’s been thinking and feeling for the past 4 months.

Really the past 3 years he’s knowns you, but that’s neither here nor there.

He feels out of breath just sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands.

“I can’t fucking say it, holy hell.” Eddie scrubs his face, feeling like a complete coward.

Always running from what scares him.

He heard the door of the trailer open, and the familiar chime of your keychain follow.

“Eds? I’m back! and I got you a surprise!”

Whatever nerves he was feeling vanished. You’re the most calming presence Eddie’s ever met. Like…a warm blanket. A cup of tea on a rainy day. Lover's lake, right as the sun was starting to rise.

Magical. Healing. Golden.

You were everything to him, and he couldn’t even fucking tell you.

“Babe?” You called again, looking for him.

“Y-Yeah! Yeah, in here, sweetheart.” He stands quickly. Drying his sweaty palms on his pants.

You round the corner into his room, and Eddie swears you get more beautiful every time he sees you. You smile at him, “Hey, handsome.”

“There’s my pretty girl.” He says without a second thought. “You and Buckley have fun at the mall?”

Eddie pulls you into him completely, and you melt. He’s so sturdy and strong but so, so gentle with you. You inhale him, he inhales you.

Home.

“I did, Robin keeps me from flying too close to the sun,” you laugh. “I did, however, get you a little something.”

Eddie pulls back, looking at you. “What? Why?”

You’re beaming up at him, “‘Cause I love you, ya silly goose.” You bend down, and grab the bag at your feet. “Here, opening it!”

Eddie doesn’t even have time to process how easily you’d say it.

You’ve never once pressured him—never made a big thing about saying it. It came with no strings when you said it the first time.

You’d spent the day with him, doing nothing particularly important. These were Eddie’s favorite. It’s just him and his girl, no sharing you with Robin or Dustin or any of those other gremlins.

You had an early shift the next day, so you kissed him goodbye, and grabbed your bag. Eddie kissed you once for every step you took toward the door.

“Baby, nooooo,” he whined. “I’ll let you sleep, sweetheart. No funny business, scouts honor.”

You laughed, “Oh, you were Boy Scout?”

Eddie shifted his feet, “I could’ve been.”

You kissed him deeply at the front door, “I’ll be back before you know it."

“Fine, fine,” he said dramatically. “I’ll just be here…alone…wallowing in my sorrows.” Eddie flopped back and fell backwards over the couch.

Your giggle echoed off the walls of the trailer. “I love you! I’ll see you in the morning!”

The door shut behind you, and Eddie shot up like a rocket, and stiff as a board.

You love him.

You said you loved him.

And he didn’t say it back.

It’s haunted him since.

Eddie took the bag from your hands, and pulled you gently to follow him. You sat down together on the edge of his bed.

You spoke to him as he opened it, “Okay, if you don’t like them, just be nice because it took me 40 minutes to decide between two sets and this one spoke to me and I wanted—“

“Honey, honey.” Eddie chuckled. “Take a breath. Whatever it is, it’s perfect." He tapped your nose gently, "‘Cause it’s from you.”

Eddie unwrapped the tissue paper, revealing a black acrylic case. He removed the lid, and his jaw nearly hit the floor.

“Holy shit, baby.”

Inside the case, was a brand new set of black onyx and ruby red DND dice.

“You like ‘em? Robin almost left me in the store because I just couldn’t decide—“

Eddie put the dice down quickly, grabbed your cheek, and kissed you tenderly.

He brought his other hand to your face as well, cupping it gently as his mouth moved over yours

When he was done with your mouth, Eddie kissed your nose, your cheeks, your eyes, your chin, any part of you he deemed not smothered in affection enough.

His lips had barely left your skin before he spoke, “I love you. God, I love you so much, sweetheart.”

Your smile—it could light up the whole town.

“Y-Yeah?” You asked hopefully, “You do?”

Eddie nodded, his hair tickling you cheeks. “I really, really do, baby. I love you. Thank you for thinking of me. For taking the time to do something that I never woulda done for myself. Thank you for just…” Eddie sighed, kissing your forehead. “Just for being mine. Christ, I’m so lucky.”

It wasn't about the gift.

Eddie had it all when he had you, and now he's going to make sure you know it.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #stranger things

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sarahs-library · 5 months

Text

Forgotten: Pretty Eyes

A/N - Forgotten is giving me serious writer's block right now, so here's a little smutty snippet from the same universe before the story begins. You aren't together yet, the bond has snapped for Azriel but you remain blissfully unaware. Also I love the idea of meddling Nesta. This is also my first time publishing any smut, so hopefully it doesn't seem as cringey to you as it did to me re-reading it.

Word count: 4704

Warnings: Smut

Forgotten Part One ☪ Part Two ☪ Part Three

Your POV

Settled into the plush leather couch, you pulled the blanket up to your chin, creating a cozy nest for yourself. You balanced the book Nesta had given you on your lap, the worn cover a familiar weight against your skin. The floral sundress you wore fluttered around your legs, exposing the delicate skin of your knees, which you instinctively tucked beneath the warm embrace of the blanket. Once comfortable, you flipped open the hardcover to read the synopsis inlaid on the first page and snorted. Gratuitous smut, that much was predictable. But the story revolved around fated mates who couldn’t stay away from each other, despite every glaringly obvious reason to. Her recent recommendations had all centered on this theme, which you found puzzling. You couldn’t understand the Fae’s obsession with them, or Nesta’s for that matter.

Sure, you understood the religious aspect, most cultures had deities or worshipped magic in some form. Prythian’s Mother was no different in your eyes from the innumerable nameless gods you’d encountered in your travels over the years. But even so, the Fae's sanctification of basic biology was unique. You cleared your throat and looked up.

“Excuse me? House?” It felt strange, to address an inanimate object. You hadn’t quite believed Nesta when she first told you the House was sentient, a byproduct of her cauldron-made power. But it had seen to your needs enough over the last few months, often without prompting, that you’d found yourself creating a tentative relationship with it. “Do you have another book for me? Nesta’s been recommending so many of these, I’d rather read something different.” A moment later, a small pile of books dropped onto the table next to you. You thanked the House as you reached for the top book on the pile.

A God cursed to remain locked in his mountain hold until his soulmate frees him…You stopped reading with a frown, setting the book aside with the other before taking the next one. And then the next. You reached the end of the pile, all books about soulmates or fated mates or love pairs. Maybe the House had misunderstood you. You gathered the books up again, this time placing the one Nesta had lent you at the top of the pile and addressed the House again.

“Sorry, I meant do you have anything different than a romance? Maybe something with a bit of action and adventure?” The pile didn’t vanish, no other books appeared either. You waited for a few seconds. “House?” You knew it was close with Nesta, perhaps you’d offended it by inadvertently insulting her reading tastes.

You considered getting up from the comfy nest you’d created in the sitting room to go to the library and pick something off the shelves yourself. You eyed the book at the top of the pile again and sighed. Grabbing it you cracked open to the first page. Only then did the pile vanish, you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. In its place stood a glass filled with fruity, fizzing pink wine from the Summer Court. It knew that you preferred it to the heartier reds more commonly found in the Night Court. You thanked the House and took a sip from the wine glass before turning your attention to the book propped open against your knees.

A dull pain in your neck drew you from sleep. Your dry eyes adjusted to the low lighting as you began to sit up. You groaned and massaged the sore muscles in your neck and shoulder, cursing yourself for falling asleep in such an awkward position. The book, still open at the last page you were reading, slipped from your lap and hit the floor with a dull thud. Fae light housed in a dark glass shade flickered to life on the table next to your empty wine glass. Freeing the blanket from where it was tangled between your legs, you bent to retrieve the book from the floor. The hand you reached out stopped shy of the cover, the tips of your fingers brushing against the shadows that teeming it, burrowing under the pages.

They didn’t shy away from your touch. Instead, they pushed the book across the floor into your open hand. You grasped at the leather-bound spine, cool shadows curling between your fingers and sliding up the back of your hand.

“Thank you.” You inclined your head and righted yourself on the sofa, expecting them to disperse in search of their master.

“Don’t tell me you’ve joined Nesta’s smutty book club too.” Reflectively you gripped the book tighter as the voice came from behind you. After months of living together at the House, you were beginning to be able to decipher Azriel’s moods. Smooth, dark, and low his tone of voice rarely gave away what he was feeling. But the slight elongation of some vowels and the emphasis on the word smutty told you he was amused. A delicate flush rose on your cheeks, and you resolved not to look at him.

“I mostly go for the wine. But Nesta said this was one of her favourites, though I’m not sure why.” The shadows that had helped you retrieve the book began to climb up over the edge of the sofa, to investigate further as you held it in your lap. You could feel him inching closer behind you, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Satisfied with their investigation, or at whatever silent command Azriel gave them, the shadows began to return to his side. You were unsure of how cognizant they were. As one of them brushed against the soft skin of your thigh, exposed from where your dress had ridden up, you wondered if it was intentional. You were glad to not see his face. Not while his shadows snitched to him about the colour dusting your cheeks and the very long, very explicit description of the mating frenzy between the main characters you’d been reading before you fell asleep.

“Too tame for you, sweetheart?” You’d been playing this game for weeks now. Glances that lingered a hair too long to be appropriate. Comments that bordered on suggestive but still gave plausible deniability. Any excuse to touch, to feel the other’s skin as you passed a dish at family dinner or assisted Azriel with demonstrations for the priestesses.

And you hated it, the effect he had on you. You knew, somewhere deep inside in a place you didn’t want to acknowledge, that he was part of the reason you’d taken advantage of Rhys’ hospitality. Why you hadn’t been itching to leave, to find another place after you landed unceremoniously, bleeding and half-conscious, in the Night Court all those months ago.

You sighed. “No, it’s not that.” Azriel was standing directly behind you now. When you took your next breath his scent, night-chilled mist and cedar, filled your nose. “I know she and Cassian are disgustingly in love, but I’d prefer her to give me at least one recommendation that doesn’t revolve and two people finding out they are mates, and then fucking for the next 100 pages.”

Azriel made a low, humming sound. Not in agreement, but in consideration of what you said. You thought he was going to speak, grace you with a sarcastic remark. Instead, he leaned over the back of the sofa. His face was so perilously close to your neck that you could feel the hot breath he exhaled, as he plucked the open book from your lap. He retreated as quickly as he’d come; you instinctively turned, reaching one hand up to stabilise yourself against the plush leather.

His hazel eyes met yours, and the triumphant smirk he gave you ignited both irritation and something primal. Held aloft in one hand, he lifted the book to his eyeline as the shadows flicked swiftly through the pages. Landing on the passage he wanted, he began to read aloud.

“His manhood was hot and hard and thick with lust. He pounded into her rough and ready, their gasps puffing in the air, steam rising off their skin.” Your cheeks flushed deeper. You hauled yourself up the back of the sofa, resting on your knees, attempting to use the leverage to lessen the advantage his greater height gave him. Reaching out, you tried to snatch the book from his grasp only for him to move it away just as your fingers brushed against the cover. He took a half-step back, still within arm’s length but not close enough for you to reach without losing your balance.

Azriel arched a brow, eyes alight with thinly veiled amusement as he took in your flushed face. You noticed the way they strayed, just for a moment, following the path of your exposed neck down towards your chest. A traitorous part of you preened under the attention of his gaze. Instinct prompted you to press the advantage he’d unwittingly given you, using the moment of his distraction to vault over the back of the sofa and close the distance between you. Azriel’s wings flared behind him, but he didn’t retreat from the sudden proximity, even as your hand reached up to grasp the book over his own.

Dragging his eyes away from you, he feigned nonchalance as he continued to skim the pages of the book. You realised your mistake then, calf muscles straining to keep your weight steady as you stood frozen on arched feet. His eyes didn’t leave the page even as his other hand came up to rest on your hip. The fabric of your dress felt dangerously thin as the warmth from his palm and slightly splayed fingers seeped through. Thin enough to feel the callouses on the finger that skimmed tantalisingly close to the edge of your underwear.

“The male says such filthy things.” He allowed you to pull the book down but didn’t relinquish his grip. Hazel eyes met yours, darkened even in the fae light. Slowly lowering your weight back onto the balls of your feet, you held his gaze. You were acutely aware of how little space was left between the two of you. Cool shadows brushed against the bare skin of your legs, catching on the hem of your dress and skirting at your waist. The breath you inhaled, made ragged by the proximity, filled your lungs with Azriel’s scent. Lust fogged your thoughts, quietening the voice in your mind that warned you of the precipice you teetered on. Even through the haze, you recognised there would be no going back, not once you acted on this.

“Do you like it when your lovers speak to you like this, sweetheart?” His voice, guttural and slow, seemed to speak directly to the embers now burning within you. He edged closer, enough that the fabric of your dress brushed against the scaled leather on his chest. You backed away, even as you felt your body react, but kept your eyes trained on Azriel’s face. His shadows returned to him, agitating a breeze that carried the unmistakable scent of your arousal. Azriel inhaled deeply, savouring it like a man half-drowned. His gaze became predatory as he prowled closer to you.

You felt the brush of cool leather against the heated skin of your back and the curve of your buttocks. He stepped closer, muscular arms brushing your waist on either side as he rested his hands on the sofa, caging you in. You held his gaze, even as he lowered his face close enough that your breath mingled. You tried to grasp at something, formulate a scathing remark that would disseminate the tension, that would allow you to step out of this room with your friendship still intact. All you could focus on was how easy it would be to reach up, tangle your fingers into Azriel’s hair, and bring his face down to close the distance between your lips. The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk and he feigned closing the distance, tilting his head before passing over your mouth and whispering in your ear.

“You haven’t answered my question.” His breath danced over the shell of your ear, and you fought against the urge to arch your back and press yourself into his chest. His lips ghosted over the skin of your neck as he traced the curve down to where it met your collarbone.

“My preferences regarding lovers are of no concern to you.” He stilled against you.

“Is that so?” The words caressed your skin, drawled and meant to provoke as he made the return journey back towards your lips. You managed a breathy affirmation, even as he trailed fire in his wake. The barest of touches, feeding your desire for more of them, more of him. You didn’t notice the hand until his palm slid up to rest on the side of your neck, gripping your jaw between scarred fingers and thumb. His grip was firm as he pulled back to look at you.

“Such lies from such a sweet, little mouth.” His thumb stroked a path up, sweeping across your plump lower lip. You parted them on instinct. Lust-darkened eyes met your own, and a moment of clarity passed between you both. One that spoke of more than just base needs or primal instincts. Hiding in his eyes was a promise of more. Something that neither of you were ready to address just yet.

"You have such pretty eyes," Azriel's thumb dragged your lower lip down, his husky baritone stoked the fire of arousal coursing in your veins. "I can't wait to see you looking up at me, with my cock in your mouth." His other hand moved to your hip as he trailed his thumb down, palm splayed as he traced your jaw; your neck to where the cut of your dress lay at the valley between your breasts. He toyed with the edge before moving his hand to trace down your other side, thumb brushing the underside of the swell of flesh you desperately wanted him to pay more attention to.

His grip tightened for a moment at your waist before he hoisted you into the air. You gasped in surprise at the sudden movement before he perched you precariously on the edge of the back of the sofa. The increased height made your face almost level with his, something that Azriel took full advantage of as he captured your lips with his own. Your hands moved to steady yourself on his broad shoulders, fingernails digging into the leather as you swept your tongue against his bottom lip. You opened your thighs in invitation, Azriel stepped closer so that your chest was flush with his. His hips settled between your legs; your thighs clenched on either side as he deepened the kiss. His skilled tongue stroked against your own as you moaned, breathing heavily through your nose.

His fingers tangled into your hair, pulling it aside as his other hand moved down from your waist to trace a path under your dress against the smooth skin of your inner thigh. His mouth left yours, moving to capture the soft skin of your neck, lathing his tongue against it in between delicate bites as his fingers slid higher on your thigh. You rolled your hips, trying to coax him as his fingertips grazed lace. You slid your hands over his shoulders, finding purchase as you pulled him closer. You felt him smile against your neck as he trailed kisses lower, freeing his hand from your hair, as he pulled the delicate fabric of your dress down roughly to expose your chest. You barely registered the sound of it tearing as one hand came up to clasp your breast, thumb running over the peaked nipple as he bent further to capture the other between his lips.

You groaned as he continued to nip and suckle and bite at the pert bud, hazel eyes observed your through dark lashes as you arched into him, bringing one hand up to tangle into his dark locks. He groaned against your skin as you pulled at it, moaning his name in between panted breaths.

“Fuck, Az. Please…” he sucked hard on the nipple caught between his lips, releasing it with an obscene pop and a parting flick of his tongue against the tip.

“Please what, sweetheart?” His mouth moved to capture the nipple under the ministrations of his thumb, the callouses rubbing deliciously against the sensitive skin. Words died on the tip of your tongue as the fingers dancing beneath your skirt finally brushed against sodden fabric, rubbing against the slick folds of your pussy. He grunted in approval as he continued to probe, pushing a finger into your aching hole as much as the lace would allow. You moved your hand from his shoulder, taking advantage of his bent position to trace two knuckles against the dark membrane of a wing.

Azriel’s growl was feral as he bucked his hips. His mouth left your breast to kiss up your neck, teeth scratching against the pulse thrumming at your jugular.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a wicked, wicked tease?” His lips once again met your own in a rough, opened-mouthed kiss. You purposely dragged your knuckles back over his wing, it flared out under your touch as he caught your bottom lip between his teeth. You pulled back, your lip catching before he released you. He stared at you, panting and pupils blown wide. You smirked as you put your hand back on his shoulder, resolving to explore the sensitive expanse of his wings further another time. You trailed your fingers down, feeling the hard expanse of muscles on his chest and abdomen before settling on the strings of his leather breeches.

“I may have heard something like that before.” You pulled at the knot, struggling to undo it with just one hand. Azriel’s hand left your breast, placing it over your own to still the movements. You furrowed your brow, questioning him with a gaze as he made no move to help.

“There’s something I need to do first.” He stepped back, moving out of your reach as you planted your hands on either side of the sofa to steady yourself. His wings flared for balance as he slowly lowered himself to one knee, then the other, maintaining eye contact with you as his hands slid under your dress. Tracing up to your hips he caught hold of the lace of your panties, slowly pulling them over your thighs and past your knees to drop over your bare feet onto the floor. His eyes never left yours as he rucked the thin skirt up to your waist, leaving you panting and exposed under his gaze. His eyes trailed down slowly as if committing the sight of you to memory, taking special note of the flush on your neck and chest, littered with a constellation of bruises he had sucked onto your skin. Lower still, until his gaze came to rest between your legs, fixated on the way your cunt glistened in the fae light.

“I can’t tell you how often I’ve dreamed of this.” He ran the back of his hand down the side of your thigh as you opened your legs wider for him to nestle his shoulders between your knees. “Of how you taste, what you’d look like underneath me, the sounds you’d make when you cum for me.” He made sure to catch your gaze again as he lowered his mouth towards your slick folds. The hand that wasn't tracing your thigh moved to part your lips as his tongue delves between them. He moaned against you at that first taste. Dragging his tongue in a long sensual stroke up, barely brushing the edge of your clit before returning to tease at your entrance. Biting your lip your hands found his hair, wrenching him closer as you slid your knees over his shoulders. He cupped your arse, rough fingers digging into supple flesh as he fucked you with his tongue. Languid strokes that brushed his nose against your clit every time he pushed in deeper.

You moaned, grinding against his face, the hand not tangled in his hair circled at your nipple still coated in his saliva. His tongue slid up through the wetness to toy with your clit, circling dangerously around the edges before he caught it between his lips, suckling on it hard. You cried out his name at the delicious pressure, bordering on pain, his eyes watching you through dark lashes as you writhe and grind against him. He releases your clit, pulling back after a small gentle parting lick.

“Look at you.” His thumb moves up to trace your clit. He looked debauched, lips swollen and pink, chin soaked with your pleasure. “Such a pretty little cunt.” His thumb slides down through your wetness as he teases it through your puffy folds. “So wet for me, just begging to be fucked.” You felt your pussy clench as he traced past the hole, dipping further down in between your cheeks to toy with the wetness around the puckered ring of muscle there. He returned torturously slowly to where you needed him most, before plunging one finger deep inside of you. You moaned at the intrusion as he curled his finger up, rubbing purposely against the sensitive wall before pulling out. He added another finger to the first, inserting them at the same glacial pace, finally looking away from your face as he watched your walls stretch to accommodate his thick fingers. It wasn’t enough, you needed more of him.

“Please,” you begged, tugging at his hair. “Please Az, I need more. I need…” You trailed off as another finger slid into your tight hole, the pace still slow as he watched you grind your hips against his hand, trying to fuck his fingers deeper and faster into you.

“Whatever my beautiful-“He stopped himself, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, eyes on your face again. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” And with that promise, he lowered his mouth to your cunt again. The speed of his fingers increased, fucking into you with abandon as he caught your clit between his lips once more, licking and sucking, dragging his teeth gently over the sensitive nerves. He skilfully brought you to the precipice of your release, alternating between curling his fingers and lathing his tongue against your clit before slowing down. You keened, undulating your hips against his face and hand. Shadows bled out the sofa, fixing your hips down as he continued to tease.

“I need to see you cum for me.” He growled against you before pressing himself deeper into your folds. Your legs shook as his fingers fucked you harder, as his mouth latched onto your clit with a hard suck. His hazel eyes were fixed on your face, watching as you climbed towards your peak. Your grip tightened on his hair as your release built. Until finally, it snapped. Sending you careening toward the most exquisite bliss you had experienced in your immortal life.

“Azriel! Oh Gods…” Your legs shifted on his shoulders as your muscles clenched under your release, trapping his head between your thighs. He continued to lick and suck you gently as you came down from your pleasure, fingers moving at a more leisurely pace now as he watched you, eyes filled with lust and awe. You relaxed slowly under his ministrations, enough to begin to bring you towards pleasure again despite how oversensitive your nerves felt. You unhooked your legs from his shoulders as you moved your hands towards them, pulling as his leathers. He released you from his mouth, pulling his fingers out and admiring the wetness left on his hand rolling down towards his wrist. He rose, allowing you to capture his face between your hands in a searing kiss. You groaned at the taste of it, both of you mingled together on the tongue he stroked slowly against yours.

Moving your hands down you broke the kiss, nestling into his neck and tracing the dark marks of his tattoos with your tongue. Under both your hands the knot holding his leathers closed came away easily. You pushed your fingers under the tight band, grazing the head of his cock with your thumb. Azriel panted into your shoulder, his grip on your waist tight as you continued to tease the head, rubbing circles slick with pre-cum into the sensitive skin.

Azriel became rigid under your touch. You pulled away from his neck, from marking him with bruises similar to the ones on your own, to look at his face. A dark tendril curled around his ear, whispering to the shadowsinger. His face darkened and he let out a vicious curse, pulling away from you and turning his attention towards the foyer.

You could hear footsteps now, heading in your direction. Azriel was a picture, rock hard against his leathers, hair a mess from where you’d carted your fingers through it, full lips swollen and red. You looked down at yourself, bare breasts peeking through the ripped fabric of your dress, skirt rucked up still baring your cunt to the room.

“Y/N! I know you’re here. You’re keeping us all waiting.” Nesta was in the hallway now, heading towards the only way in or out of the sitting room. You slipped off the back of the sofa, righting your dress and trying to pull the ripped fabric of the bodice closed with little success. Azriel’s eyes had turned calculating, all trace of lingering lust gone as he ran through possible ways to get you both out of this situation. If you were anywhere else, he could have winnowed you away. You cursed whichever of Rhys predecessors put such stringent security measures on the House to a painful eternity in Hel.

Shadows moved to open the large windows next to the fireplace to let in a breeze, biting cold and pushed through the room as Azriel’s siphons glowed. A fire started to burn, smoking more than normal, its acrid smell filling your nose. Azriel gestured to the sofa, the blanket still coiled on the seats.

“Get under.” You moved quickly, throwing yourself down as you used the blanket to cover up your ruined dress and bruises. Azriel strode toward the window, taking one glance back as you tried to settle yourself before he slipped out into the sky and the fading light. You rested your head against the cool arm of the leather, bringing your legs under the blanket as you feigned sleep.

Nesta’s footsteps stopped at the threshold of the open door.

“Y/N.”

You let out a low groan, stretching as you pretended to drag yourself from sleep. You rose so only your face was visible over the back of the sofa, blanket clutched to your chest as you took in Nesta standing in the doorway. Her silver eyes scanned your face as her nose wrinkled at the smell of the poorly burning fire.

“You’re late.” Silver burned in the eyes she fixed on you, angered at the perceived social slight.

“I’m sorry, I was reading. Must have fallen asleep.” Your heart pounded as she assessed you. You hoped she’d put it down to the shock of being rudely woken rather than your anxiety at being almost caught.

“Everyone’s waiting in the library, let’s go.” You nodded in agreement, mind whirring as you tried to figure out a way out of the room, out of your ruined clothes with the reek of arousal still clinging to your skin, without raising any suspicions.

“I’ll um, meet you there. I just want to quickly freshen up and grab the book from my room.” Nesta’s eyes scanned you, before inclining her head and turning to leave.

“Five minutes,” she ordered as she left, “or we’ll start without you.” You collapsed back into the sofa, relief flooding your veins as you tried to calm your breathing. You hadn’t noticed the way her eyes had fixed on the dark lace half-hidden underneath the sofa before she left.

Thank you for reading, to everyone who asked to be added to the tag-list I think I've included everyone I can but some blogs I couldn't tag so apologies if that's yours.

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 7 months

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Pretty like the wind

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a/n Part three! we return once more to this little tiny Azriel's book like story. ✨ thank for everyone who reads✨

warnings: lots of past trauma, Illyrian camp kind of trauma, anxiety, kids because some of you said it was a warning, I guess that's all...

Not yet proofread

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Azriel just couldn't seem to sleep. No matter what he did, no matter how much he tried to tell himself that he didn't care or that it wasn't in any way directly related to any of his doings, the spymaster still struggled to find his peace. And if it wasn't in the sleep, then his thoughts would just occasionally wander to that night you touched him. He wanted to remember how your fingers felt against his skin. Was your hand warm? Or cold? He was sure your skin was soft. Had to be.

But all Azriel was met with were your terrified eyes. The tears streaming down your cheeks. The choked-out sob you held inside. The way you turned away from him and ran. He called for you. Tried to, at least. But you vanished. Blended seamlessly into the dark and stayed like that ever since. And here he was feeling guilty once more. Proven once more that he wasn't indeed a good man. His desires made him blind. He chose himself. Time after time, put his needs first. He stepped on others' boundaries just so he could gain something.

Azriel ran a hand through his hair. He's been coming to the communal ever since. Frankly, it's only been a couple of days. But Azriel was growing restless because you weren't here. You weren't singing with the kids. Weren't smiling at them. Every time he looked at the bright smiles that flooded the room, Azriel had flashes of horror piercing through them. The camps. The cries. The blood. Suddenly, this place made so much more sense. It was a place for Illyrian females and their children. A haven. A sanctuary to heal. To let the wounds scab over. Every smile Azriel saw now held a bigger meaning. It wasn't just a smile. It was the smile of a survivor. Someone who was beaten down. Walked over. Made into nothing more than a punching bag. But now. Underneath, this roof was slowly flourishing because of the loving hearts that surrounded it.

One of the shadows moved to whisper into Azriel's ear, making the male turn his head to the side quickly. "Axel", the spymaster breathed out. The little boy instantly let go of the priestess's hand. "Soldier", he breathed happily. "That's my friend; I'll be okay", Axel nodded his head at the lady, who frowned slightly but still chose to walk on with the rest of the children.

Azriel suddenly felt a wave of panic rush through him. Axel was left with him. A kid was left in Azriel's care. He had never truly taken care of one. Sure, Nyx was his nephew, but Azriel had never even held the boy. A tug on his pants made Azriel look down, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Have you seen...", Azriel started, but was quick to realize that he had never asked for your name. "Zofie is in a dancing class and Y/N... I'm not quite sure", Y/N, the name, ran through Azriel's bloodstream faster than lightning. Arranging and changing chemicals in his body. "She walked us to class this morning and...", but Axel halted, his face changing as he crossed his tiny arms over his chest. "Did you upset her? Because that would be rude".

A breath hitched in Azriel's throat. When had kids gotten so smart? And why was a five-year-old making him sweat more than a camp leader? "There was a misunderstanding", Azriel said calmly, "Hence, why I'm looking for her". Axel watched him for a moment, then nodded his head. "She's been crying a lot, but she said we shouldn't worry about it", the boy shrugged his shoulders. A pang ripped through Azriel's chest. Crying. You've been crying. Was he the reason for it? Had he awakened an unknown memory? Had he already made you give up on him? Had he already made you not want to deal with him? In a matter of weeks. He had once again become a problem.

"Don't be sad", Azriel felt a smaller hand reach up to grasp his palm just like the very first time. He flinched slightly, not used to that part of him being touched so effortlessly. "We usually have tea and biscuits after class", Axel smiled at Azriel fondly, his messy black hair reminding him so much of how Cassian used to look when he was just a boy himself. "Lead the way, champ", Azriel said, urging Axel. The boy lit up, walking with his head high now that Azriel was walking beside him.

They never really tell you how badly the triggers of the past can jab you. But then, maybe they don't know. Or maybe the pain one endures is so great that it leaves them speechless, barely breathing, just about managing to patch the reopening scars. It's been months since you've been brought back to that place. Back to that night. The pinching coldness of the snow beneath your bare feet. The never-ending screeching. The hands...

"Find the light without it. Search for it", Padme's voice made you draw a sharp inhale. Rapidly blinking, you wrapped your hands around your torso. "Did the nightmares retune?", the high priestess asked you, looking down at the paper in front of her. "No", you said firmly. A lie. One you had mastered delivering - a wolf beneath a lamb's coat. "Well, then we are done here for today", she smiled at you. If Padme hadn't found you in that corridor, all shaking and tense, you would have been able to escape these mind-curing sessions.

"Are you fit enough to continue with field work?", her words were colder, but then they always were when the topic of assignments arose. "I can go right now if you insist", you said, throwing her a look that challenged her stare. Padme held it till she was satisfied, then nodded. "Return to your duties, sweetheart; I'll get you the papers tomorrow". You bowed your head just like you always did. You were so thankful for the dimly lit corridor and the way they hid your trembling hands.

Hands... You had felt Azriel's fingerprints on your skin. You had felt his warmth. An odd song it sang. But then, as if out of nowhere, all the walls came trembling down. Dragging you down. Pulling you back to the night you wished to forget. Wipe it out of your mind. Never return to it. Even if it made you, even if it had shaped the very soul that flicked within you. You still wished a night so dark would never fall upon you again.

With a deep breath, you welcomed the air into your lungs. Slowly dragging your feet down the stairs. Down and down. Clawing at the last bits of strength for the kids. For the females that might want to bask in the warmth you always carried, your feet halted the moment you were about to cover the last handful of stone steps leading to the kitchen.

"You're mixing it wrong", the voice growled slightly. Specks of child-like frustration laced it. And you knew that voice. That voice was well ingrained in your brain. "I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to eat the raw batter", your heart skipped a beat at the sound of the reply. You quickly rushed down the last steps that separated you from the clear view of the place. It couldn't be. There was no way, you told yourself. Just as your eyes fell on the scene in front of you.

"And I'm pretty sure you had never made cookies before", Axel shook his head, reaching for his spoon as he shoved, or more like, tried to move Azriel's hand away from the bowl. They were both covered in flour. You doubted that you wanted to know why an egg stain ran down the wall. Or why was one of the trays burned to a crisp? Something within your chest stretched. Bent and stirred deep within you.

You were sure you would have watched the two of them till the last piece of dough was molded into an odd shape if not for the black, tiny blobs that curled your way. Tiny creatures of the dark yet so full of life. They rubbed against your palms, twirled in the ends of your hair, and brushed the sides of your cheeks. A silent: Are you okay? The unease that left them the moment you nodded slowly.

That's when you met Azriel's eyes across the kitchen. A piece of dough now forgotten in his hand. One that Axel was more than happy to snatch as he formed and misshaped a circle. Neither of you spoke. But the gaze you held was stronger than any conversation could ever be. Words often failed. Or led to unnecessary assumptions. Eyes, on the other hand, were the mirror of one's soul. Eyes could never lie. Forever doomed to give away the truth that lay beneath.

"You should put your cookie here", Axel said, pointing to the tray until his own golden eyes followed Azriel's gaze, a big smile spreading across the boy's face as he hopped off the stool Azriel had pushed closer to the counter for him. Leaping into your hands, his dirty hands and clothes smearing against the white you wore. "I see you have gotten yourself quite a company", your fingers lingered beneath the boy's chin, carefully guiding his face up so he would meet your gaze. "I told Azriel about the cookies we make after class. Can you believe he eats cookies?", the excitement in his voice made you crack up a smile. "That seems like it's secret information", you muttered, and Axel's face grew wide as you pressed your finger to your lips. From the back of your eyes, you could see Azriel slowly shaking his head, but a light smile still lingered.

"Why don't you wash up, huh?", you crouched down, cupping the boy's face, before one of your hands brushed against one of his lip wings, threading golden threads there. Azriel's face went ashen. How did he miss that? The off-balanced leather. The twisted boning. His hand clenched the end of the counter, and he was almost sure he would snap the marble just from the sheer clench his fingers had on it. How many more horrors were unknown to him? What else had these people endured?

"You mean a whole deal to him", your voice sliced through Azriel's fading vision. Making him blink a couple of times. Slowly pulling the world around him to focus. "He already has drawings of you. A mighty worrier...", you let out a low chuckle as you reached for the dirty bowl submerging it beneath the water. "But then maybe I have myself to blame", Azriel felt the cold pain that lashed with your words. In all honesty, Azriel was desperate to say something. Make this better. Somehow make the pain that now drowned you back away.

"I told him stories of a foreign soldier. Who wasn't like the males in...", and you didn't have to finish. Azriel knew. Knew what you were referring to. The sadistic manners some of them bore even if Rhys had banned any wing clipping. "I'm sorry", was all Azriel managed to say. His voice faded to nothing almost immediately. He knew those words had little meaning for pain like that.

"Our minds clashed that night in the attic", the spymaster's words sent a shiver down your spine. You stared ahead of yourself. Not allowing yourself to look at him. You had worn that mask of strength before. This male now standing to the side of you. This man had watched you crumble way too many times already. "I'm sorry that I disrespected this place. I disrespected you", an ache in Azriel's chest eased as he spoke, "I want to learn more about the sanctuary. I want to make my time here meaningful". The bowl in your hands nearly slipped out of your hands. Your body - still the statue. "I can't do any of that if you and I are fighting this silent battle, can't I?", the question twisted something deep within you, but you still blurted in a cold tone, "There are many more people who can guide you". And Azriel didn't doubt it, but at least he still said, "But no one quite like you". Your eyes darted to look at him like that. Your eyes meet his. And then and there, it felt as if you two had seen each other for the first time. Looked and saw.

With a silent agreement settled, Azriel followed you up the stairs toward the room the kids shared. A plate full of cookies in one hand, his shadows holding four glasses full of milk. He questioned your choice to go up the moment you presented it. For Zofie. The hunting gaze of the fear she carried still followed Azriel's mind. But he knew that Axel was waiting. For some reason, the thought of letting him down now felt worse than losing a battle.

"I'm considered their guardian", your voice bounced off the empty corridor. "All orphans have one for the transitioning period", Azriel felt the way you cringed at the words transitional. Even to him, it felt off-putting. Jabbing straight at the wound that bled the most. You told him about Padme. The laws of the sanctuary followed the priestess who ran it. For the most part, at least. Azriel knew that was only the crumbs. But he was glad to learn at least that. To understand at least a small portion.

"Are they still in that period?", Azriel finally asked. He had fallen into a comfortable pace next to you. "Technically, no, but... we bonded too much. I couldn't bring myself to separate from them", you said quietly. As if you were in a way ashamed of the world that left your mouth. He wondered how many kids had been in their place before them. After? His shadows hadn't sensed the presence of anyone new, but he was sure that the mass of faces was growing still, especially knowing the situation in the mountain camps.

Azriel wanted to say just how much it amazed him. The way this place radiated happiness even with the trauma everyone bore. How wonderful was the work you did here. But you had leaned closer to the door. Ear placed on the wooden door as you listened in. Azriel stilled at that; his Illyrian hearing offered him a chance to peer in as well, yet he doubted it was needed. The shrieks and cackling could be heard from where he stood.

He knew it was Axel and Zofie. His mind was engraved with the sound of their laughter from the communal. Yet Azriel couldn't help the dread that pooled in his stomach as you opened the door. The voices halted, but only until the kids were met with your presence. Azriel tried to fold his wings behind him tighter in hopes of appearing smaller. He had never imagined himself doing any of that before, but here he was. The spymaster's eyes instantly landed on the drawing of a winged male standing on top of the mountain with a raised sword. There was more than one too. All plastered on the walls. The blue dots no doubt resemble his sapphires. But... Azriel's heart skipped a beat for a moment. He hadn't worn his Illyrian leather here, so how would he have been able to...

But that familiar force launched at his feet. Azriel's hand instantly reached to mess with the head of black hair. "You came", Axel breathed. "Wouldn't you agree that I earned a cookie as well?", The spymaster teased the youngling slightly, earning a laugh that warmed the deepest parts of his bones. Yet Azriel's eyes scanned the room till he saw a tiny hand gripping your skirt, her body hidden behind your frame, only a tiny side of Zofie's face visible to him.

As Azriel kneeled, he wondered what horrors she had to endure beside him to fear a male so much. He knew this skittishness towards him was the grave he had dug himself, but she—that tiny girl—was a survivor too. Too young to bear a burden so deep. But hadn't Azriel bet too little too? Azriel found Zofie's eyes, and as frightened as she was, she held an unfalteringly tight gaze. Azriel handed a cookie to one of his shadows. The tiny creature slowly lured towards the girl. Zofie hid further behind you, yet her curiosity was too strong, and she peaked almost immediately.

"I can't promise that I haven't mixed up salt with sugar, but... well, you'll have to tell me if they are edible", Azriel said gently. He had a low, deep voice, but it still felt like velvet as it rolled down his tongue. Zofie spared him a look before her eyes fixed on the shadow right in front of her, tiny blobs holding the sugar cookie for her. And to Azriel's surprise, she took it. She took it and dove back to her hiding place. The shadow moved to glimpse over your side, but Azriel pulled it back. "Is it good?", you asked the girl softly. Azriel could hear the munching sound—a light tug pulled at the side of his lips. "Well, I didn't make them; Azriel and Axel did. You should tell them your thoughts", you said to the girl softly. Azriel hadn't hoped for anything in return from her. The fact that she had taken the cookie was more than enough for him. He was going to gain her trust slowly. He was willing to do so. Try. A tiny hand moved from behind you. And Azriel caught a glimpse of a tiny thumbs-up that greeted him. And something shifter within him, something that would stay with him for the rest of his life.

#azriel acotar #azriel acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel spymaster #azriel imagine #azriel acotar x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you

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lyomeii · 9 months

Text

a mother’s care

-> warnings: yandere themes, afab! reader, death mentions, lightly spoiler from the manga, reader’s a mother and a little tired from the sorcerer worlds, reader can be seeing either as the biological mother or adoptive.

-> request by @rouecentric lyo!! lyo!! i saw that your requests were open and that you write for jjk!! so i wanted to ask if you could write how the first years (and maybe gojo??) would react to a reader that is not only yuji's mom, but also one of the best sorcerers of all time that could be toe to toe in a fight with gojo, but retired to take care of and raise yuji, but returned to being one because of her son's predicament? feel free to remove any characters you don't want to write and have a nice morning/day/night!!!!!

-> a/n: a request from roue themselves? let me do it instead of my tasks. so this was really nice to write it and im happy for it turned out, so I’m hope you will enjoy it, roue. and don’t forget to take care of yourself too :)

❥ everyone in the sorcerer community knew about you, not only one of the most powerful sorcerer of the modern times, but also a beloved person known. a lovely woman that put herself in danger to protect others, the many time when you got hurt by doing it brought you a few scars in your skin, yet it was not enough to stop the many marriage offers from the many sorcerers family, in fact, it only made more and more offers come at you and yet, all of them ended rejected by you.

❥ there is no denying that you are an important figure and once you completely vanished from it once you graduate from jujutsu high, many wonder where did you go. could it be that you were killed? kidnapped? those were plausible theories of course, but actually you just want to become a better mother.

❥ you got into a relationship with a great man, who not only loved you a lot, but treated you like a goddess. and with the relationship between the two of you becoming stronger, a baby entered the family. living the three of you was a calm and sweet life, nothing wrong was going on and yuji was growing like any children, yet you could feel something off about it.

❥ maybe it was the fact he was stronger than most children, i mean, yuji kicked the ball and almost took down a tree once he was ten. another occasion was that time he lift the coach by himself one day prior his fourteen birthday. however, you to ignore it, though that he was just a stronger boy for his age. his father, (before you become a single mother) did said that yuji is just a special boy, do that’s must it, right?

❥ his father was right, yuji is a special boy. once you received a call from a familiar friend who immediately request your presence at jujutsu high in behalf of your son’s recently events. arriving at that place brought many memories and seeing your beloved son inside that room, hearing of his future execution once he swallow sukuna’s fingers from the higher up and make things worse, his grandfather died just a few days ago.

❥ things aren’t easier, that’s why you return to being a sorcerer. yuji, well, was really shocked and surprised by your reveal, include of the others experience sorcerers talked about your past actions during your high school years. “you are so powerful!” his words and sparkling eyes are more than enough to make things better. too be closer with him, you decided to move to a residence nearby the school, not wanting to lose a moment in his life.

❥ someone who was way happier with your return was gojo. he literally hugged you once you confirmed that you would be staying around to take care of yuji, gaining even more hugs from him. even after years and incidents, he still almost the same boy you helped train years ago. the only difference being he is tall as a door now. making you feel so small and young even though you are older than him.

❥ the others were also quite happy to see you around once again, nanami looked at you like a ghost from the past and took a while before he gained courage to talk with you. a smile in your face was so sweet as you two interact and when yuji enters the conversation, the three of you look so cute together.

❥ now the students are shocked with your presence. none of them knew expected to yuji has a mother or the fact you are special grade sorcerer like their teacher. nobara was the loudest one to introduce herself while the others glare at her for not giving any personal space. maki was intrigued by the rumors of how excellent are you with swords and daggers, asking if you are willingly to train her for a few times.

❥ it’s clear the students have a soft for you despite being way more powerful than them, even yuji, the same boy you raised since he was little has become quite protective of you. ignoring how soft they are with you, it’s nice to taught them during school hours. making them learning new way to protect themselves is a nice way to bond, slightly making you an unofficial teacher at tokyo high.

❥ as times goes on, it’s clear how things are becoming more dangerous than ever before. yuji sometimes loses control over sukuna and hurts people over it, making you even more concerned about his state. sometimes, you wonder if you just could grab him and run away from all this mess. yet, you fear the many consequences over it and can only dream about it on your own thoughts.

@lyomeii stuff || don’t repost

#yandere headcanon #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanon #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere yuji itadori #yandere gojo satoru #yandere platonic #yandere platonic x reader #afab reader #yandere x female reader #x female reader #female y/n

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