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nereidprinc3ss · 4 days

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strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf.

Stupid scarf, you think.

Stupid door.

Stupid wind.

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient.

You look at the stack of papers and sigh.

Stupid Lord Byron.

Stupid cafe.

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly.

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable.

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust.

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance.

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once.

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café.

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk.

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor.

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here.

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up.

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you.

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that.

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing.

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out.

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles.

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go.

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone.

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot.

“How did you do that?”

His cheeks turn slightly pink.

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack.

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently.

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble.

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look.

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels.

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second.

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself.

He was totally in love with me.

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again.

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while.

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it.

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café.

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout.

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer.

Spencer. Spencer.

It feels important.

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away.

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you.

Spence.

Reality sets in.

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk.

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away.

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way.

“Who was that?”

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in.

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up.

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality.

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character.

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination.

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression.

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading.

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more.

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table.

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin.

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real.

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed.

Adorable? Get a grip.

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges.

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley.

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents.

So that’s cool.

You’re cool with that.

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer.

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers.

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet.

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again.

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it.

Nah. Boys are dumb.

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it.

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone.

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line.

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it.

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second.

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless.

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long.

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh.

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard.

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid.

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice.

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again.

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible.

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air.

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company.

But his job is important.

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present.

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer.

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits.

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly.

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm.

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now.

“I would.”

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted.

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair.

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles.

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way.

He says none of that.

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards.

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair.

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute.

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper.

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird.

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go.

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic

1K notes · View notes

mistiell · 7 months

Note

Ok so, maybe you knew this already or maybe not, but... In the game, if you hover over Astarion's original outfit it says that it looks rather old and mended over several times. The running theory is that he's been reparing his own clothes (explains the cheeky embroidery in his underwear) , since we damn well know that Cazador would not give two hoots about it, and that poor baby has been running around in a 200 year old shirt and probably doesn't have much clothes with him. I just want something fluffy... maybe the reader always let's him have first dibs on whatever they find or even gets him new clothes. I just imagine him finding a brand new shirt on his tent that is soft and comfortable and I just want to weep in a corner 🥺

Can you help a sister out?

Here you are <33 (also, I'm so sorry this took so long lol) WC: 1.3k Also CW for potential spoilers

---

Astarion is slow to wake this morning, fully intending to lay with you in his tent as long as you’ll allow. Rolling over with his eyes still closed, he reaches to hook his arm around your waist only to grasp at nothing but air.

He’s certainly awake now.

It’s unusual to find you missing given he’s usually the first to wake between the two of you; two hundred years of living in The Underdark and only ever surfacing at night having apparently made him a little sensitive to light.

Sitting up and shifting onto his knees, he reaches to pull the tent flap back and peer out at the campfire. A small gust of the cool morning air sweeps over his bare torso, raising goosebumps over the skin of his arms despite the fact that he’s not really bothered by the cold. That little spike of anxiety dulls when he finds you haven’t strayed far; standing maybe fifteen feet away in conversation with Karlach.

As if you can sense him, you glance over and light up when you spot him peeking out of the tent, excusing yourself from the tiefling. He expects you to come straight over, but instead, you turn to grab a basket he hadn’t seen first.

He shuffles back to let you come inside, flushing a bit when you brush a few rogue curls from his face and bend to peck his hairline, “Good morning, handsome.”

“I- Good morning.” Is all he manages, still tired and a little stunned. Shifting off of his knees to sit cross-legged, he peers into the basket as you set it down in front of him and cocks a brow, “What’s this?”

“Clothes.”

“Well yes, I can see that, darling.” He sasses and you chortle, “But why have you brought me a basket of clothes?”

“I found it the last time we left camp.” He remembers that. You’d gone out with Karlach, Gale and Lae’zel and came back bloodied and bruised. He’d been so focused on getting you patched up that he hadn’t even thought of asking about what you might have found.

You clear your throat and glance away, smiling sheepishly, “I picked out some things I thought you’d like, but then I thought you might prefer to have a look through yourself, so,” You shrug and jerk your nose at the basket, “I brought you all of it.”

His heart would be stuttering in his chest if it could. Reaching into the pile, he thumbs over a few of the garments, feeling the different fabrics and looking over all the different colours. It’s been centuries since he’s had a choice in what to wear. Sure, he’s picked up some things throughout your travels but never so much all at once. It’s a little overwhelming, having all this to pick through after so long.

Taking hold of the basket, he pushes it closer to you, “Show me what you picked out first.”

“Oh,” Your heart rate spikes, and he smiles as you stutter out, “Are- Are you sure? I’m not sure you’d actually like what I picked out. That’s one of the reasons I brought you the whole basket.”

He scoffs and waves off the thought, “Nonsense. You could hand me the most distasteful outfit in all of Faerûn and I’d at least try it on for you.”

“Really?” “Of course I would.” He realises the implications of what he’s just said and tries to play off the sentiment with a puckish grin, gesturing towards himself, “It’s hard to not look good in something when you’re this beautiful.”

You laugh, eyes squinting shut with the force of your smile. “Yes, you truly are dashing, my love.”

“Stating the obvious, but I can’t complain,” You roll your eyes at him as he taps the sides of the basket, “Now, are you going to show me what you picked out? Or are you just going to sit here sing my praises? Personally, I’d be fine either way.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll get on with it,” Reaching into the clothes, your laughter tapers off as you glance back up at him timidly one last time, “But if you don’t like something, tell me, okay?”

He lays his palm flat against his sternum, all dramatics as he grins, “Cross my heart and hope to,” He pauses, before chuckling, “Well, die again, I suppose.”

He laughs when you shoot him a glare with no real malice behind it and tut disapprovingly.

He watches in quiet curiosity as you pull out a few items, explaining why you thought he’d like them as you go. Your reasons range from colours and patterns to embroidery and necklines, all of which are shockingly on par with his tastes. It appears you know him better than he thought you did.

“That’s about it, I think.” Your brows furrow in a way that is entirely too cute – especially for someone he’s watched eviscerate hoards of goblins – before you perk up with an excited gasp, “Oh! I almost forgot!”

Turning to look this way and that, you make a little sound of satisfaction when your gaze lands on your pack. Your shirt rides up a bit when you twist onto your knees to reach for it, and he stifles the urge to run his hand over the sliver skin it exposes. You rummage through a few pockets before finding what you’re looking for, returning to kneel in front of him with something hidden in your hand.

“Close your eyes.” You urge, and he does as you’ve asked.

“Ooh, saved the best for last, have you?” He grins, holding out his hands before you even ask.

You chuckle, sounding a little nervous, “Hopefully.”

He hears the tinkling of metal and nearly jumps when your hand makes contact with his, one cradling the backs of his while the other presses something small and rough into his palm.

“Open.” He can hear the smile in your voice as you say it.

On your command, he opens his eyes to find you’ve given him a necklace. The pendent is a little piece of a raw, orange crystal encircled by dainty gold rods that are bent to resemble branches.

“This is... beautiful.” He breathes, turning it over in his hand to admire the jagged edges, “What kind of crystal is it?”

“Sunstone.” He looks up at you then, finding a shy smile hung on your lips, “I know it’s a little on the nose but...,” You worry your bottom lip for a moment, clearly a little hesitant to continue, “I know you’re worried about... what’ll happen once the tadpoles are removed. So, I wanted to get you something just in case. It’s not the same thing, obviously, but I thought this way you can still figuratively have a little piece of the sun if,” Cutting yourself off, you glance away for a moment, “Well, if things don’t go the way we hope.”

He stares at you for a long moment, entirely unsure of what to say. He doesn’t think there’s anything he could say to convey just how much the gesture means to him.

Setting the necklace on his pillow, he draws you into his arms and weaves them tight around your waist. He pulls you to him so suddenly that your knees bump his shins, but you don’t seem to mind as you hook your arms around the back of his neck. His eyes burn as he murmurs against the side of your neck, “I love you.”

You card your fingers through his hair and he shudders, leaning further into you as you dot a few sweet kisses along the length of his shoulder.

“I love you too.” Your words are muddled as they’re mumbled into his skin, “More than you know.”

Maybe he didn’t before, but he thinks he has an idea now. You love him enough that you gave him his own little chunk of the sun. Even if things don’t pan out they way he hopes they will, he doesn’t think he’ll need the necklace – however pretty it may be.

He’s already got his bit of the sun wrapped up tight in his arms.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion bg3 #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion x gn reader #bg3

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pit-and-the-pen · 4 days

Text

Unrequited Love

A/N: I had to get to the airport to return a rental car like 5 hours early so I’m so sorry for the pure amount that I’ve been posting today but as a socially awkward girly, if I’m on my own phone then for sure no one is going to talk to me.

Anywho here is some angsty angst about day court!reader and Azriel.

Part 2: Here Alt Ending: Here Part 3: Here

Forgive any typos I wrote this on my phone.

Warnings: none

WC-1.4K

————————————————————————

My blood was boiling beneath my skin. Azriel has been complaining for the better part of an hour about Rhys gag order regarding Elain. I was trying not to roll my eyes as I had reached my wits end with his lamenting.

“I just don’t understand why he needs to meddle in this. I get she’s Feyre's sister but he doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” he runs a hand through his hair and leans back in his chair. “I just can’t help but think that sometimes the cauldron gets it wrong.”

His words were spoken so plainly. Anger wanes for a second as I swear I could feel my heart break inside my chest. The words seemed to echo in my head Maybe the cauldron gets it wrong. I almost would have rather had him carve out my heart with truth teller.

“What do you think?” He asks me and I sit reeling over his words. I can’t think of anything to say to him. The comforting words I would normally have for him can’t get past the anger starting to cloud my vision. So I simply shrug, avoiding the question. Desperately trying to change the subject.

“So this new book I’m reading…”

“Oh c’mon.” He interrupts me. “I know you have something to say. And I trust your advice more than anyone else. There isn’t anyone else I would rather talk to about this.” His eyes softened as he looked towards me. Instead of melting under his gaze like I normally do, red bites at the edge of my vision.

“I think you should leave her the hel alone.” My tone is not gentle. He freezes.

“What?”

“She has a mate already. And regardless of if you think the cauldron got it right. Lucien is the one mated to Elain,” I tried to keep my voice neutral. “And Lucien is a wonderful male who has been through a lot of shit. He deserves someone as sweet as Elain, if she ever comes around. You should stop meddling.”

His mouth opens, when no words come out, he closes it again. You see the muscles in his jaw tick as he clenches his teeth.

“What has gotten into you? When did you become Lucien’s spokesperson?” He spits at me. His face starts to get closer to mine as he leans over the table, slowly starting to rise to his feet.

The sane part of me is telling me to stand down. That one of the most powerful warriors in all of Prythian was starting to get angry at me. My mate was starting to get mad at me. But I would not cave under his intimidation.

“I became his spokesperson when you showed no respect for him. Or for Elain.” I noticed I was starting to get to my feet. “What about what she wants? She doesn’t owe you anything more than she owes Lucien. Rhys told you to stay away from a girl you feel entitled to and now you want to mope like a petulant teenager. Grow up Azriel.” He flinches before something stoney sets in his eyes.

“At least I’ve actually told her how I felt. What about you?” My stomach drops into my knees. “Sitting and pining over the same person for a century.”

“You knew?” My voice was nothing more than a whisper. This was not happening. I should have left when I had the chance.

“It’s not like you tried to hide it. I thought at some point you would get the hint that it wasn’t going to happen but yet there you always were trailing behind me like a sad little puppy.”

My hands on the table started to glow faintly. My anger was finally breaking through the surface.

“You asshole. You stupid Illyrian bastard.” The smirk that graced his face fell instantly. “After everything that I’ve done for you, you want to use my feelings for you as some fucking weapon against me.”

Even I was surprised at the venom in my words but I was on a roll. “I sat by for five hundred years. I sat by as you pined over Mor, someone I consider my sister. I felt that bond go unreturned.” He completely froze at my words. Words I have never spoken out loud to anyone.

“Wait-“

“No. You get to hear this shadowslinger.” I pressed my finger to his chest and he stepped back like I had hit him. A small part of me wishes I had. But this. This right here is why Rhys kept me around. I didn’t need to throw a punch to put someone on their knees.

“I followed you around like a lost puppy and you loved it. Every second of it. I was stupid enough at some point to believe that it was because you felt it too. And I couldn’t get away from those feelings,could get away from you. Every time I tried I would damn near drive myself crazy and then you would smile or say some funny joke and I was right back to where I started.” I willed the slight shake in my voice to disappear. “You just wanted to feel important because the one you truly loved wouldn’t have even entertained the thought. Took other males into her bed, but not you right? So why not go for the next available thing. Me. Who cares if I got hurt? Who cares that I still fucking loved you through all of it? Not you clearly. You played me like a fucking fiddle and I played my part well.”

When I finally looked back up at his face I saw nothing but a shell of the male that stood in front of me. Even his shadows had retreated from his side. Looking down I realized they were sitting at my feet. I pushed down the glimmer of something I didn’t have time to think about at the sight.

“Please. Just stop.” He pleaded.

“Why? Because it hurts to hear? Fuck you. “And you think that didn’t hurt me too?” I watched him pale. “You didn’t think it killed me to feel that empty weight in my chest every time I looked at you. Everyday that I waited and wished that you would feel that stupid bond I’ve had to live with for the last two centuries.”

He gasped at my words cutting me off

“You never told me about that. I just thought it was… I don’t know… I thought it was a crush like how I felt with Mor”

A muscle in my jaw ticked. “I shouldn’t have had to! The whole point is that you feel it too. Bonds aren’t supposed to be one sided but for some gods unknown reason, you didn’t,” I felt the anger really starting to boil over.

“Every time I heard you rambling on and on about how perfect Mor was, about the females you took into your bed. I sat by all of it, for what? Three sisters for three brothers?!” I was screaming now, my hands shaking by my side

“What happens when she’s all fixed up too Azriel? When she feels this same thing I feel when she looks at Lucien. Onto the next one for me to hear about I guess . Always on the sidelines. Always the sweet face to come back to at the end of the day but never the one you want to be with.” I took a deep breath for the words about to come out of my mouth, steeling my nerves.

“I’m done. With this. With you. Fuck this entire gods damned city. I will not sit by and play second to whoever you deem worthy enough for the rest of my life.”

He held up his hand like he was going to reach up for me but the light that was glowing off my skin was warning enough.

“Where will you go?” Was all he had the nerve to say.

I let out a cold, twisted laugh. “Anywhere but here. Hel I could finally go home. Helion has

been asking me to come back for years now. All I know it will be somewhere where you can’t come and ruin another half a century of my life. Because that’s what you did. I wasted all this time on someone I knew wouldn’t love me. But I can agree with you on something, Azriel.” I paused long enough to see the hope in his eyes as he whispered “what?”

“That sometimes the cauldron does get it wrong.”

I walked out of that room with my head held high

#acomaf #acosf #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar #acotar #acowar #azriel angst #azriels kinda dick in this one #I promise I love him but this popped into my head #azriel x reader #azriel x you #no happy ending #a court of thorns and roses #i make no apologies #well maybe a little

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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 1 year

Text

A DC X DP IDEA #4 You’re worth is more than a penny.

Imagine dis…

We all read and saw fanfictions about either Jason, Constantine, Bruce, or even Jazz raising Danny when he became younger due to Clockwork’s interference, but what if we reverse the roles?

Alfred Pennyworth was raised by Phantom.

It was early 1900 in England where it is common for children were being sold like cattle for a penny. Among the rows of yelling parents who are willing to sell a few of their children for a few pounds to help themselves or the younger ones at home, one parent was loudly exclaiming that his child is merely worth more than a penny. A nameless child with skin and bones as a body, at the tender age of 6 years old he already knew the horrors of child slavery. Some were never seen again like the ones he saw outside playing tag and others return to their parents in a body bag. He also knew that no one would want a skinny child like him so he waited for the inevitable beating at this man’s house, He refuse to call that man his father nor that dingy four-by-four wall home.

Suddenly a distinguished gentleman walked past him and he was just in awe at what he had sawed. A young man that seemed like in his early 20s has a face of youth yet has an air of maturity around them. Wearing the cleanest pair of white waistcoats and black trousers, shaggy black hair, and striking blue eyes.

It was obvious that he was an errand boy looking around for new workers, his mind supplied.

The man looked at him with raised eyebrows and couldn’t help but think that this person may buy him out of this man’s clutches and put him to work that may or may not end his life.

The older man who saw the interested look of the errand boy tried to advertise him as his worth is merely a penny.

…

Danny was merely taking a break from his kingly duties after months, years, and centuries have passed since his adventures as Danny Phantom. Visiting a newly made dimension in the eyes of the king of Infinite Realms, he made his way through the early 1900s for some sight-seeing, with the insurance from his advisers, court, family members, and consorts (Tucker & Sam) he went and enjoyed the view and contemplating that why does Clockwork give him his farewell in a form of a cryptic message such as a father of a bat needs saving from his unexpected fate, as well this universe felt like something interesting is bound to happen.

Being the High King of the Infinite Realms the realms itself chose him as their champion and king through countless rights of ascensions throughout the years.

Seeing that child slavery is still a thing at this point in time made him want to turn around and go to another realm less depressing than this time and come back later when they abolished slavery.

Though he caught an eye on this thin scrawny little boy who is nothing but skin and bones that the tiniest gust of wind will push him on the brick pavement, the boy’s parents however saw him taking interest and tried to get rid of the boy seeing that he was nothing but an extra mouth to feed due to his “responsibility” as a parent and tried to sell him for a penny.

Danny weighed the pros and cons in this situation, raising a mortal child may be both rewarding and satisfactory but the fact that he cannot break the ancient rules to make him immortal that was placed by the Realms themselves to uphold the balance between the living and the ancient realm, but he can bend it to an extent, so that if he can extend longevity in his lifespan to at least reach a century or so.

Added to the fact that Clockwork gave a message to protect him.

Bought the boy for a penny and carried the child towards the disguised horse carriage.

Now, how to explain to his family that he acquired a mortal child?

…

The nameless boy widened his eyes in surprise as the “errand” boy actually bought and carried him gently towards a clean carriage that looked like is owned by a king.

After making him sit beside his employer, his employer began asking him questions.

Such as his age, and name. likes, dislikes, and many other confusing questions.

At the mention of not having a name his employer began to frown, looks like he has made his new employer furious and he hasn’t even begun to earn his keep.

After a tense silence, his employer declared that HIS new name would be Alfred Pennyworth, as the word Alfred means counsel as he stated that he can see his future and that he would counsel different men who wish his advice, and Pennyworth, as his father is a fool for selling him for a penny as he is worth more than that.

At the time the nameless no…, At the time Alfred didn’t know what is the warm feeling on his chest that made him long for this man’s approval. He may be naïve or far too trusting for putting his trust in a man he met for a few minutes but at the time his only thought was he had his own name that he owns.

When the carriage stopped his employer carried him out of the carriage, and what greeted him is something he would never forget.

An endless green sky stretches along the horizon, A large black castle that reaches the sky that has growing vines all over its walls, at the front an entire estate dedicated to different and extinct plant life to flourish, and rows and rows of servants lined up and dressed in the fanciest clothing for maids and for all genders bowing ever slightly greeting and welcoming back their master in unison.

He looked behind him and around him for the master of the house but when he couldn’t see one, he turned his attention to the one who bought him as he is quite sacred for upsetting for not greeting the master in his own house.

But as he turn to the man for a plea for help he caught the small smile that his employer gave him and nodded towards the directions of the servants.

That was the time he learned that the man who bought him and gave him a name is his supposed master.

…

The next few days were confusing to the young Alfred Pennyworth, as he expected to be working on the animal shed or any menial tasks yet he was treated like a prince.

Free to learn what he desired, learning skills that he would never think of learning, free to eat anything his heart and stomach desired, free to have a soft bed to sleep on as well as having toys to ensure that he was not bored, given a wide variety of possible hobbies to take his mind off things. Gained and learned philosophies around the realms as well as had great teachers in teaching him essential things in morals, science, and more. Most importantly gained a family that he never thought he would even have.

He learned how to walk silently as a ghost, be swift in terms of movements waster no action, be present like a shadow, and use any weapon at hand, one’s body is a weapon itself. Discipline thy self in any temptation known to man, to integrate oneself to be unknown, eyes and emotions betray your mind be mindful of your facial and body movement as a single doubt will get someone you love to perish, but most importantly learned his new family’s motto.

Family is family.

Simple yet a powerful motto. No matter how cruel the man who brought and gave him a new life and purpose, the man who he saw as father, maybe in making decisions to ensure that the Infinite Realms stay balanced throughout the entire realms. How ruthless are his aunts and uncle to make sure that everything in between stays in the center of the balance as too much of the brings chaos

When Alfred was merely a teen he was given a blessing by his father, to be able to live a long life while maintaining his morality. One day he may die which is true, but it will be a long time before the reaper takes him to his next adventure.

Spending time with each member of the Nightingale family are memories that will be kept deep inside his heart. His mother Sam, taught him the wonders and secrets of flora, his other father Tucker, taught him how technology is used both in hope and destruction, His uncle Dan taught him about being an impenetrable wall in both mind and body, His older aunt Jazz taught him how to read his opponents in combat as well learning the beauty of human brain, His aunt Ellie who taught and showed him the wonders of the world in terms of the scenery, delicacy and culture, His grandfather Clockwork, taught him to be a cryptic as well moving on and forward as bad things are as natural as breathing and to move on is to let the time run its course.

Last but not least his father Danny, the High King of the Infinite Realms the man who he owes his entire being and life. The man whom he respects and wishes to turn out like him, the man who is proud to call his father. Taught him a multitude of things that one would not expect from a king, Be a Gentleman. A firm handshake combined with looking the other person in the eye carries with it respect, dignity, and strength, Honor Your Father and Mother, Respect Women, Be a Man of Integrity, Take Responsibility, and Work Hard, among the advice he gave and taught to him that they put into his life through action and words.

When WW2 came to his dimension he asked his father to be able to go back as it is still integrated into his blood to fight for the country that he was born into. As well as making a name for himself, to prove to the world his worth is more than a penny, to prove that all of their learning is not to be put to waste.

With the approval of his family, he set out to make his name.

S.A.S. Armed Services, fighting in 15 different operations between ages 18 and 20. A skilled medical and front liner soldier who was decorated. He later joined MI5, as well the secret forces of the Queen and later being knighted by her majesty

…

In this present time, we all know the current Alfred Pennyworth, the kickass ninja butler who is a mystery to the Batfam and has a lot of skillsets that are both surprising and expected to the Batfam. The butler who dared to out Batman the Batman. The butler is willing and dared to ground Batman for not taking care of himself. The butler carries a shotgun out of defense and we are pretty sure he is hiding a hidden bazooka somewhere in the manor. The butler who cooked delicious food and the one who raised Bruce Wayne

…

Working for the Wayne is not set to be permanent but the moment his ward Bruce Wayne becomes a hero just like his father and brings in his own version of a makeshift family he cannot help but stay for the sake of his ward that he saw as a son.

His family was there every step of the way.

Looking at the long dinner table that is filled with food with his ward/ son and his children he can't help but look fondly at the scene in front of him.

This is why he would not eat with the rest of the Batfam, the ambitious dinner or just being complete brings him back just when he was just a little boy looking at his father for guidance.

…

The Bat family are known to be good sometimes great detectives as they were taught by the greatest detective in the world, despite their wit and intelligence they still could not figure out their grandfather/ butler.

Having no presence before WW2 is common, as many orphans joined the war to bring acknowledgment to their names and presences. So when a glowing green letter made its way towards the kitchen counter, just as Alfred took a moment to look when he immediately snatched the said letter and ripped it open to see the contents.

Now mind you this was a never occurrence as Alfred Pennyworth is the epitome of calmness and neutrality so when he tore a letter like a kid who was given his first Christmas present all noise seemed to stop to look at the wide-eyed butler.

Alfred kept reading the said letter with wide eyes ignoring the shocked look of the people around him. Immediately telling Bruce that he will be going on an immediate 2-week vacation without even concealing his own joy in his voice and quickly turned around to pack a suitcase worth.

The entire Wayne’s both adopted and not are now invested what could the letter possibly contain that Alfred Pennyworth himself becomes a kid just by reading it?

Tailing the said butler was hard, following his quick steps which indicate impatience from the patient butler as well as a small smile that indicates fondness immediately became their new case.

Stopping at a large mansion surrounded by plant life that has a gothic aesthetic to it. As Alfred entered the gate he was tackled by a small black-haired blue-eyed child immediately followed by three teens and one large buff young adult.

All of them are hugging and exclaiming joy as Alfred reciprocated each hug with enthusiasm for his age.

Who are they and how does Alfred know all of these people?

…

PS: If someone out there wanting to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so don’t forget to tag me though.

#dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #danny phantom #ghost king danny #infinite realms #dp

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lost-in-lamentation · 10 months

Text

kissed off guard.

what better way to surprise your lover than a gentle kiss?

content: catching the brothers off guard with a quick little kiss. (all brothers × gen!reader).

fluff + a little bit crack. suggestive for asmo + lucifer, nothing explicit.

belphegor; right as he wakes up.

it's not uncommon for you to be the one who wakes the youngest in the mornings. belphegor has had centuries of practice of sleeping through his brothers yelling voices, so who else better to wake him up than you? you decide to test how quickly you can wake him up, and there's no faster technique than a kiss. waiting for his eyes to flutter open, you call belphegor's name softly, watching for the moment he pushes himself off the bed. still groggy, he blinks slowly at you, eyes remaining half closed. at least, until you press a light peck on his nose. the avatar of sloth shoots out of bed in record speed, one hand pressed to his mouth and the other clutching at his chest.

"what was that?!" belphegor shouts at you, backing into a wall.

you shrug nonchalantly, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you turn on your heel and head out the room. "just wanted to try something out."

═ ˎˊ˗

beelzebub; while sharing food.

beelzebub sharing his food with you is the highest honour. on the other hand, you sharing your food with beelzebub is a given. if you don't give him some, he'll most likely steal some (by accident, he swears) anyway. you've never minded, and most of the time, you'll order extra so that you can have enough for yourself even with the gluttony demon helping himself to your meal. this time, you made sure beelzebub didn't see you grab a popsicle for yourself, hoping to set him up for a little surprise. when the demon returns to your side, his gaze flickers between yours and the popsicle. of course, he says yes to the bite that you offer him, waving the popsicle in front of your face until he takes the bait. just when he gets close enough to you, you steal the popsicle away, instead placing your lips where his are.

beelzebub stares at you a good moment, cheeks reddening before he pulls back and snaps his head to the side to avoid looking at you. "er... sorry... i didn't think you'd move it..."

"it's okay, beel. besides, you still technically got a taste, right?" you purr, taking delight in the way his face flushes.

═ ˎˊ˗

asmodeus; in the bath.

it's rather hard to catch someone like asmodeus off guard. you figure that he has a sixth sense when it comes to anyone within 6 feet who wants to give him attention. so, your last resort is to catch him in his most vulnerable state; while he's taking a bath. it's an idea that takes multiple tries. some days, you wait and listen outside his private bathroom, hoping to hear the light snores that accompany the demon when he's tired enough to fall asleep in the tub. the day that it happens, you're silently cracking the door open, thankful that the door doesn't creak as it allows you space to enter. as if you had experience in pulling pranks that required you to be quiet (which you do, thanks to satan), you crawl over to the bath, peering over the edge just enough to see asmodeus' resting form. you inhale once, gathering your courage, before leaning over and pressing a chaste kiss on his shoulder.

asmodeus splashes himself awake at the sensation, soaking you in the process. "you-! MC!"

"got nothing to say for once, hm?" your teasing lilt almost has him fuming, but there's another desire that's threatening to take over first.

═ ˎˊ˗

satan; after stealing his book.

during one of your regular cat café outings with satan, you decide to have a little fun with the blonde. satan, as smooth as ever, was always one step ahead of you when it came to flirting. he was just too in tune with everything that you were; it was both your favourite and your least favourite thing about him. it takes a while for you to set the whole situation up. everytime satan turns to pet a cat or take a sip of his drink, you shift closer to him, all the way until you sit shoulder to shoulder. the demon only gives you a curious glance, but returns to his reading in no time. you focus back onto your book as well, waiting for when satan becomes immersed enough in the story that he doesn't notice your hand creeping towards the spine of his book. in a flash, you snatch the book away from him, and as he turns to give you a glare, you place a gentle kiss right on his cheek.

"oi, w-what's the deal?" satan stares at you, hand hovering right over where you kissed him.

you hold his book in front of him, smiling like you didn't do anything. "oh, just felt like it."

═ ˎˊ˗

leviathan; when he wins a game.

you watch leviathan's screen with much anticipation. he had been playing an all night tournament and was close to the end, which meant you could give him his little surprise soon. you spent the night in his room by accident, falling asleep in his tub while he mashed the buttons on his controller. of course, when you wake up in the morning, he's still going for it, eyes red from staring at the screen, but no less focused than before. the good thing about leviathan being distracted by games means you can do almost anything without him noticing. so when you see the end of his game marathon approaching, you crawl out of the tub and set yourself behind him, waiting for the screen to light up in victory. as soon as it does, leviathan whips around to wake you and tell you the good news, but you're faster. you're kneeling behind him already, and when his face is within reach, you cup his cheek with one hand and brush his bangs away with another, kissing him softly on his forehead.

leviathan stutters incoherently, trembling hands dropping his controller before he releases an unfortunately high pitched squeal. "g-give me a warning!! like a two- no- three month warning before doing that!"

"sorry, i just wanted to surprise you," you say as you stifle a laugh, trying to peel leviathan's hands away from his face.

═ ˎˊ˗

mammon; after getting into his car.

a midnight car ride is one of your favourite ways to wind down after a long day, and mammon knows it. he can already sense the exhaustion that drips off you, and your first man is always ready to offer the passenger seat to you once he's done all of his errands. tonight, mammon has some extra work to do for lucifer, but he hands you the keys to his car and tells you to wait for him there while he finishes up. as you get into the car, you decide to pull a sneak attack on him later, which leads to you leaning the seat back and tucking yourself into your hoodie as you wait. with the amount of times you had already fallen asleep in mammon's car, it was almost easier to just fall asleep instead of pretending. but you keep yourself awake, and you're glad you did when you hear mammon open the driver's door and mutter to himself about how you had gone and fallen asleep before the ride. you feel him hover above you as he tries to buckle you in, but before he can finish, you wrap your arms around his neck and tug him close, kissing him on the underside of his jaw.

mammon blinks at you, dumbfounded, before placing his hands on your shoulders and pushing himself away. "you- you're a jerk! why'd ya do that?!"

you brush his hands off, returning your seat to the right position and putting your seatbelt on. "i could just tell the great mammon needed some affection."

═ ˎˊ˗

lucifer; in the middle of a meeting.

it's not your fault for being so distracted. it's definitely lucifer's for being so dedicated to his work that he can't give you the time of day. so, you can't blame yourself for always shooting him a glance, even if he's already tried to reprimand you for not being focused. you groan internally everytime you look at the clock; you were fairly certain that this meeting didn't need to be two hours long anyways. by the time the meeting is at the ending remarks, you don't even realize it, having stared off into space for at least the last half hour. as you blink yourself back into reality, you make out the figures of lucifer and diavolo talking to each other about the budgeting for RAD classes, which you should be involved in, but can't bring yourself to join. instead, you decide to get lucifer's attention, beckoning him over with a wave. lucifer raises an eyebrow at you, but another wave of your hand has the avatar of pride walking over to you. you stand up to meet him, waiting for lucifer to stop in front of you before you pull him in, sealing your lips with his. lucifer's eyes widen in shock before promptly closing in bliss. for a second, he forgets where he is, until he hears diavolo laughing heartily from across the room. he quickly pulls away from you, straightening his uniform.

"... MC, please save these sorts of things for another occasion and not the meetings," lucifer says, voice cracking at the end of his sentence.

you send a wink towards diavolo, having to stop yourself from laughing at lucifer's expression. "that's lucifer speak for 'later tonight.'"

a/n: if you saw this while it was unfinished... no you didn't 😭😭😭

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me x reader #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader #aris writes 🐈‍⬛

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suiana · 2 months

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(Any)Yandere x reader with immortality

(yandere! baker x gn! immortal reader)

he sees you come into his shop every day. sometimes with an old lady, sometimes with a young kid, but most of the time you're alone.

it's an every day type of thing to him. prepare the shop, display the goods, greet some customers and then feel his heart race as he sees you enter the store to get the same order of bread you've ordered since you first entered his shop.

it's the same every day. you come in, pay for your bread, smile at him then leave. nothing's changed. not even physical changes.

he wonders how you maintain your beauty, having served you delicious baked goodies since... ten years ago? you look as youthful as ever. not having aged a day since you started frequenting his bakery.

but who is he to judge? you're just a wonderful customer of his that he has a little crush on... right? until you weren't. right, of course you weren't. because tell him why he's seeing your name in these old books he found in his grandparent's diaries?

an ethereal being, one who never ages, they've stolen my heart forever more.

upon reading that line in his grandmother's diary, he immediately comes to a conclusion. geez, you were an immortal? no wonder you haven't aged a day since he first saw you. there's literally no other logical conclusion other than the fact that you couldn't die. well, other than maybe botox or plastic surgery. but even then people would still age! not like you where you look completely the same.

so he tries questioning you the next day. not upfront of course. he tries asking your age and date of birth... to which you simply smile and nod at him before leaving.

but he won't give up! he's not a loser like that! he must know! so he tries again and again, enquiring into your life and even giving up and just straight up asking about your status as an immortal. however, you always leave him hanging, giving him vague answers like "oh it's been a long time since then... my parents passed early on..."

he's getting more and more irritated as the days go by. and he's getting no younger too. plus, the fact that you have an effect on him, one where... he feels strangely compelled to obsess over your every move, doesn't help either.

can you blame him for taking such drastic measures like stalking you? you're not giving him the answers he wants so he'll just have to find out himself, right? maybe you're just teasing him and want him to work for the answer, right?!

that's what he tells himself at least. that way he can feel better about himself when he breaks into your house filled with antiques, adoring the way you saved portraits of yourself over the centuries... and even staining one with some... white fluid.

he swears it's not his fault. he just wants to find out more about you, you know? you're so enigmatic, so charming and alluring. how can you blame him for being obsessed with you?

so please don't be mad at him when you find yourself locked up in his room. he really only wants to find out more about you. if only you gave him more straightforward answers, then maybe this wouldn't have happened!

really, he only ever wanted to know more about you :( he swears on his life that he's not just some crazy stalker who's obsessed with everything you do!

#suiana's sinners #yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere concept #yandere baker #yandere baker x reader #gn reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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merchen-aeravellae · 10 months

Text

Under your balcony

Warnings: suicide, arranged marriage, manipulation, stalking, use of poisons

The beautiful city of Valvevia hides more than great museums and palaces that people can admire during the day, it also hides desperate monsters that hide at night without anyone observing them.

°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●

Desperate Romantic Yandere who is supposed to hate you, after all, both families have been enemies for centuries and it doesn't seem like that situation will change anytime soon.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who couldn't help but have a crush on you since you two were teenagers, always looking for an opportunity to be close to you or to be noticed.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who already has all his friends annoyed, he only talks about you day, afternoon and night, and even when he sleeps, you are the only thing on his mind.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who infiltrates your family's parties just to see you up close, but he is careful that the rest of your family does not notice his presence, he would not like you to see him while he fights with a relative yours.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who can't help but feel bitter and at times angry, if only the two families were not in disputes and fights all the time, he would have already asked for your hand in marriage a long time ago.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who thinks you might be interested in him too, in his mind there is no other man who loves you as much as he loves you and that should be one of the reasons why he is the one for you.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who is oblivious to the fact that you also hate his family, including him, that you would rather jump off a bridge or stick a sword in your heart than date him voluntarily.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who sneaks into your house every night to be able to watch you under your balcony wishing he could watch you before going to sleep.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who once tried to recite a poem to you under your balcony and having the moon as a witness, described the eternal love that he felt for you and that he wanted nothing more than to be by your side for all eternity.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who ended up running if he didn't want to end up with a pot on his head, in his hideout he could hear you yelling curses and threats, but that didn't make him fall in love less, quite the opposite.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who can also be very manipulative and unstable, and that side of him came out when he found out that your family were planning to marry you to the son of a marquis, his room became a mess after hearing the news.

Desperate Romantic Yandere thought of a thousand ideas to avoid that marriage, but nothing seemed good enough.

Desperate Romantic Yandere had an idea when one of the many nights of visiting you under your balcony, he dazzled a young woman who was walking near where he was.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who recognized the young lady, it was your younger cousin who he had only heard very little about her and who at that moment he had decided to use her as a pawn to get to his lover, you.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who began to court her in secret, filling her with "love" and gifts, reciting poems about a future together and pouring out all a passionate love poems that are really for you, refuses to write poems for another person that is not you.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who can't help but laugh maliciously, in less than 3 weeks he made this woman fall at his feet begging for more of his love, every day he was closer to reaching the last facet of his plan.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who convinces her that everyone wants to separate them when in fact no one but them knows about their "relationship" and that they should go to more extreme measures to avoid being separated, he tells her that they should commit double suicide.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who advised her to write a letter describing how she had fallen madly in love with a member of the enemy family excluding his name, he would not risk them discovering his plan, much less you and that they had decided of their own free will to end their lives so as not to have to live another day without each other.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who gives her the white widow poison, a poison so deadly that the person dies in minutes without a cure to reverse the effect, convinces her that after her, he will also take the poison a lie and while he watches her die, thinks about who will be the poor soul of his own family who will take the role of the unfortunate lover.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who chooses his older cousin, if he disappeared, Desperate Romantic Yandere would be the next on the list to be the successor to take the title of duke, that would give him more advantage in being able to be with you.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who watches with joyful eyes as the city of Valvevia goes into a state of panic when they discover the tragedy of the ill-fated lovers, the two families involved are devastated and have no time to continue their quarrel as they are so busy mourning their dead.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who convinces his family that they should make a peace deal with the other family, but not just any deal, but a marriage deal and convinces them that you and he would be the best option, if the family wants to protest he reminds them about the recent tragedy and how they could avoid a similar event in the future.

Desperate Romantic Yandere that his plan was a complete success when he discovered that your marriage with the maques had been canceled and that your family had accepted the marriage proposal that his family had sent in a letter while explaining the advantages of a union of the two families.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who is so ecstatic to see you walk down the aisle of the church towards him, daydreaming about what married life would be like and that he finally had everything he deserved. Instead, you were dying inside, first you had lost your darling little cousin and now you've been forced to marry the worst man you've ever known, and you were convinced that somehow he had planned all of this.

Desperate Romantic Yandere "to be with you is my dream, everything I long for and desire, it is my need and my reason for being"

#yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere #yandere romantic #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #x reader #reader insert #margo #merchen #gn reader #gender neutral reader

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forever-rogue · 5 months

Note

hello, lovely! i've been re-reading your works like CRAZY, you're so talented! 🩷 can i pretty please request for a friends-to-lovers one with eddie where the reader's ex suddenly comes back to her life and tries to win her back, and eddie realizes his feelings for the reader? i LIVE for jealous!eddie too sksksks thank you! 🩷

AN | Nothing good happens when the ex comes to town, right? 🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Modern!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Guess what,” you walked into Eddie’s cozy coffee shop, waving at a few regulars as you made your way over to the counter. He stopped what he was doing and looked at you with expectant eyes, a lazy little half smile on his features, “hiya!”

“Hi sweetheart,” he leaned onto the counter, resting his chin in his hands as he looked at you gently, “lemme guess…chicken butt?”

“Very funny,” you leaned in and kissed his cheek before you reached over and helped yourself to one of his brownies. He always saved at least one for you, which was something that always made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, “but no.”

“Do tell then,” he grinned as he turned back to the espresso maker, “gingerbread flat white?”

“Ooh, yes please,” you watched him work in awe before he came back over to you, setting the cup carefully in front of you, “no, the exciting thing that happened to me was that I saw August today!”

Eddie’s face dropped immediately as his jaw clenched, “August.”

“Yes!” you looked happy and somehow that made his stomach churn, “he came into the office today to consult with one of the designers and I saw him when I was leaving! He had no clue I worked there and I had no clue he was there.”

“Your ex,” he pointed out as you lifted up the cup and started to drink the delicious latte, “August, your ex.”

“Yes,” you raised an eyebrow before sighing lightly, “we’re still…well I wouldn’t say friends. But we needed things amicably if you don’t remember.”

“You cried over him for weeks,” he almost shouted but quickly dropped his voice as he narrowed his eyes, “he broke your heart!”

“Yes, he broke up with me, but it wasn’t over anything bad,” you cringed when you remembered that you really had been upset when August had broken up with you, “we just weren’t good together. That’s all.”

“I never liked him,” that was the understatement of the century. Eddie didn’t just dislike August, he hated and loathed him entirely. You’d broken your heart and Eddie couldn’t stand that. Just like he hated the face that he was dating you in the first place. Eddie had been in love with you for as long as he could remember. Probably since the day he’d met you over ten years ago, “he’s always been a little bit…scrungly.”

“Scrungly?” you repeated, almost choking on the coffee in between your giggles, “what does that even mean?”

“I don’t know, just like scrungly,” he flailed his arms dramatic, “either way I don’t like him.”

“I’m well aware, Edward,” you reached over and gave his hand a squeeze, “but it is what it is…and we’re going hang out and go bowling soon.”

“You’re what?” he looked like he was going to explode and you couldn’t help but laugh nervously. You’d always wondered why he didn’t like August but he never really had a solid reason. You figured it was just some weird guy thing, “why are you hanging out with him?!”

“Because he asked if I wanted to hang out and there’s no reason not to,” you straightened up and grabbed your coffee, “look, Eddie, I know you mean well, but you don’t have to worry. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. We’re just going to hang out once and if it’s completely terrible I never have to see him again, and if it goes well maybe we can be friends. Okay?”

“Yeah,” he lied right through his teeth, “okay.”

“I’ve gotta go,” you took a step back and offered him a small smile, “see you tomorrow for movie and pizza night?”

“Of course,” like he would miss a chance to spend time with you, “love you.”

“Love you too, Eddie,” you promised. If only he knew how very much, “thanks for the coffee.”

“Anytime.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey!” you looked up from your phone when you heard the sound of August’s cheery voice. Tucking your phone into your pocket, you walked over and met him halfway to say hello. He pulled you in for a friendly hug, “you look great. It’s good to see you again. Really good.”

“It’s good to see you too Auggie,” you felt your face warm up but decided to ignore it as you walked up towards the bowling alley. You reminded yourself that this was a friendly outing and not a date, “I can’t believe you’re back in Indy now.”

“I can’t believe you work as an interior designer,” he held the door open and you were immediately overwhelmed by the sounds of people bowling, talking, and laughing. You looked at him with a shy smile and shrugged. It hadn’t been a career you would have thought of either, but Eddie had nudged in the direction after you’d helped him design his cafe. Besides becoming friends with Eddie, it was one of the best designs you’d ever made.

“It just sort of happened but I love it,” you walked towards the counter to get your shoes and a lane, “you remember Eddie, right? He helped me get there, he was a huge supporter.”

You both gave your shoe sizes to the bored looking clerk and when he told you the price for everything, you moved to reach for your wallet but August gently pushed your hand away, “I’ve got this.”

“Okay,” you gave him a starry eyed smile as he grabbed both pairs of shoes and started to head towards the lane that was now reserved for you. The bowling alley always had a very distinct smell but it was so nostalgic to be there, “I haven’t been bowling in forever. This was a good idea! I think the last time I went was a couple of years ago with Eddie.”

“Eddie,” you couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking from the tone in his voice, “you’re still friends with him?”

“Of course,” you finished pulling on your shoes and looked at him curiously, “he’s my best friend.”

“He’s in love with you,” okay. That was definitely annoyance in his voice and you had no clue why, “I’ll be honest with you, it was one of the reasons we broke up in the first place. Sometimes it felt like you were dating him, not me.”

“I…he’s not in love with me,” your mind was reeling at what he had said and you couldn’t help but wonder - what if? What if Eddie really was in love with you? No…you weren’t even going to bother to entertain that thought, “you broke up with me because of Eddie?”

“It wasn’t entirely him,” he dropped his voice and looked at you sweetly, “but people change and grow, you know? You never know what could happen.”

There was definitely a suggestive tone to his voice that was not lost on you. You only managed a small smile in return before clambering nervously to pick up your bowling ball. You felt his fingers brush along your back as you moved, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin.

“You never know,” you agreed nervously, voice almost a squeak as you went to take your first shot. That did have you thinking though - would you want to get back together with him? You had never really thought about it…but the idea wasn’t all that bad either. It wasn’t like people were lining up out the door to ask you out…sometimes you had to take what you could get.

A part of you was excited by the prospect - he was a good looking, nice guy that you did love once upon a time. On the other hand, you didn’t want to open that can of worms and let anything happen that could end with another broken heart. Plus there was the issue of Eddie. Realistically it was a non-issue. But you knew that your heart would always long for and yearn for Eddie. You loved him, you’d known that for a long time, but you always knew that nothing would ever happen or change between the two of you.

August continued to be friendly enough and you didn’t think anything of it, but as the night progressed, you could tell that things had changed. You hadn’t done anything, not to your knowledge anyway, to act flirty or make it seem like you wanted anything but friendship with him. It was his comments about Eddie that had you experiencing a feeling of unease. The way he’d talked about him just didn’t sit right with you.

By the time the two of you felt the bowling alley and parted with August pressing a kiss to your cheek, you’d realized that this definitely had been a date.

Fuck. You really hadn’t expected this to happen.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ever since the night you’d gone out with August, Eddie was behaving oddly towards you. You couldn’t quite place it but you hated the idea that he was any bit mad or annoyed with you.

You’d been texting with August back and forth, and you were both following each other again on social media. You’d made plans for a casual lunch date soon; it was since Eddie had learned about your second outing that he’d been acting weird. You were pretty sure that he was just downright ignoring you. But you weren’t about to let that stop you from being his friend.

“Hey there,” you walked into the shop when you knew it would be slow and he’d be there. You were almost positive that he’d been avoiding you and had his employees cover for him when you came to the shop. Eddie’s face paled as soon as he saw you, but he still managed a tight lipped smile, “everything alright, Eddie? I feel you’ve been…avoiding me.”

“I haven’t been…I’ve just been busy,” he shrugged noncommittally as he went back to scrub at the counter, “that’s all.”

“You’ve always been a horrible liar, Edward,” you walked up to the counter and offered him what you hoped was a reassuring smile, “did I do something wrong?”

“I…no. You didn’t,” he still wouldn’t meet your eyes but pushed a muffin towards you. Of course he still would save your favorite for you, “it’s nothing.”

“Funny,” you willed him to look at you but the boy still refused, “it doesn’t feel like it. Ever since I hung out with August you’ve been…weird.”

"You don't get it, do you?" He sighed in frustration, tossing his rag to the side and waving his hands around dramatically as you looked at him in confusion. He inhaled and exhaled deeply before brushing his wild curls out of his face, "I want you. I want to date you. I'm in love with you."

"Oh," it came out more as a small squeak than anything as you looked at him to make sure you'd heard him correctly. Eddie looked close to tears as he waited for some kind of response from you. You pointed at yourself before whispering, "me?"

"Yes," he nodded seriously, "you. I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear but it's the truth. And I just wanted to get it out there."

"Oh," this time realization set in. Eddie Munson was in love with you. Not some other girl like you'd always assumed, "you're in love with me."

"Yes. Yes," he felt so nervous he was surprised he didn't just barf then and there, "listen-"

"I'm in love with you too,” your voice was quiet and shaky, but Eddie heard you loud and clear. When he didn’t say anything at first, you completely freaked out and ran through the back of the cafe and into the chilly evening. He followed after you immediately and didn’t stop still he caught up.

He perked up and looked at you from under his lashes, studying your face to make sure he’d heard you correctly. You offered a small, shy smile along with a shrug, “I’m…nervous. I dunno, I kind of always thought you knew but you never said because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings or let me down.”

“I - ugh, what…I’m - sweetheart,” the nickname sounded so sugary sweet now that you knew the true intentions behind it, “if I had any clue that you felt the same way, I would have said something long ago. I should have just done that anyway.”

“Oh,” your cheeks warmed up, a combination of nerves and the chilly of the winter air as you looked at the pretty boy. You were stopped from saying anything else as big, flat snowflakes starting coming down on the two of you. A grin spread across your face as you held up your hand to catch a few flakes in your hand, “it’s snowing.”

Eddie watched you in awe, enamored by every little bit of you. He reached over and put his hand on your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek. Your breath hitched in your throat as you look at him expectantly. You knew what was coming but at the same time you didn’t want to assume anything, “I really want to kiss you.”

“I really want you to kiss me too,” you grinned as you leaned in closer, meeting him halfway until your lips met his. It was a sweet, slow thing, tender but hungry at the same time. Both of you had been wanting this for way too long, and now your dreams were finally coming true.

A first kiss in the middle of the first snow of the season. How could it get any more perfect?

Eddie took your face in his hands, and peppered your face in kisses, which only caused you to giggle, “c’mon pretty girl. Let’s get inside and get some hot chocolate.”

“That sounds perfect,” you reached for his hand and laced your fingers together and pulled him back towards the cafe, “c’mon handsome.”

“But first promise me one thing,” he stopped you nervously as you raised an eyebrow at him, “promise me you won’t see him again. He’s the worst.”

“I promise,” you definitely weren’t planning on ever seeing him again, “it’s only you for me, Eddie.”

“Yeah,” he agreed softly, “you’re it for me too, sweetheart. Only you.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #joseph quinn #st

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suguru-getos · 4 months

Text

Genshin Impact characters and how they comfort you (F!Reader):

A/N: It's been a while lovelies :P since yours truly touched Genshin Impact. In all honesty, the game remains to be my comfort game & the characters give me so much joy. Here's me, word-vomiting about them blorbos. ;)

Characters included: Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Alhaitham, Ayato

Neuvillette:

The only reason he hasn't cried (yet) is because he is thinking hard on what to do when you're blue. Would probably suggest that you and him go together for a walk! Hey! Don't judge him - a walk fixes everything. Besides, someone who hasn't had a romantic interest in centuries really needs to learn a thing or two. He doesn't mind writing an official application about his absence and walking along the streets of Fontaine with you. He knows the Melusine village brings you a lot of comfort so it's also his go-to place whenever he's feeling down. He tried making you taste different kinds of waters - yep, didn't end well for the Hydro Dragon Sovereign. However, lessons are to be learnt and he learnt them well! Now, he has realized that mostly, your sadness can be satiated with something delectable to soothe your tongue. He started with soup, well? Naturally.. though that didn't end well either. He now has realized what he might like, you might/might not. So, he takes the more aware turn & takes you to places you like, or sometimes doesn't do anything. Happily wraps his arms around you, kisses your forehead and doesn't say anything. Silence and hugs? Best! He's noticed you like that far better.

Ayato:

The Yashiro Commissioner is a cocky fellow, and sometimes a tad too overconfident. He thinks he knows you inside out; that's not something he refers from you though. He thinks it's because no one can ever love you more than Kamisato Ayato. (He is kinda right? Though what's worse is he is mostly correct about the things that you need.) Like - he knows when that period begins, and when the mood swings absolutely obliterate you; he knows some Fontainian chocolate, or Mousse will come to the rescue. Some dangos might also help. The Kamisato Estate staff is trained to not fall pale to your needs. You & him both know that with all the travel opportunities you accompany Ayato in, you do have taste-buds which would be bored with Inazuman food alone. Whenever there is something bothering you personally, Ayato would ask you to vent it out. He firmly believes in annoying you with persistent cooing and crooning of, "Hey Princess, what's got that pretty face so long?" / "Oh come now, don't tell me you would hide things from your husband? I feel judged already. Do I not deserve to know?" You do end up telling him everything - and while Ayato is surprisingly good at giving advices… you always like how he asks first, if you want him to listen, or give his opinions.

Alhaitham:

The Scribe of Sumeru's Akademiya who is also your boyfriend - usually takes the overly analytical route, rationalizing everything. So you often don't tell him about the things that bother you. Since he is so observant and keen however, you can never really slide something that's got you down under the rug either. "You are behaving differently." Alhaitham commented, "Usually when you come home, from outside… you freshen up." He comments at the lack thereof, watching you squirm under his gaze. Of course, whenever you feel down your mind and body send you in a slump. "Oh- yeah, I'll get to that." You quickly comment, though you're cut off by his tender hold on your wrist. "Course you can, something wrong?" Now he knows the 'Female Anatomy', as he likes to call it. Often going out of his way to explain your hormonal cycle, what you should do when you are in your leutal, menstrual, ovulation phases etc. You don't have to say much in certain times as such. Though he acts like nothing's the matter when you do vent about let's say - something at work/Akademiya; there have been instances where he would pay personal visits to some people for pissing his girl off. Duality? Yep.

Wriothesley:

'His' Grace; is extremely kind to everyone, and fair. You being his significant other, get your own perks from time to time. For example: He is always available for tea for his little one. He is always available to listen to you whenever. He considers it fortunate enough that you are willing to live in the Fortress of Meropide with him - he knows it's the harshest decision especially from someone who hasn't done any crime whatsoever. There are days when even someone like Wriothesley (who seldom goes out) makes sure that he visits the world up above with you. Might take you to the Opera, might take you to those fabulous boutiques, anything and everything fashion the second he notices your eyes glim. Nope, none of that is tolerated here. The prisoners have started calling you 'Her Grace'; while you do not prefer it, Wriothesley does not mind, he is fine with you being treated like someone treasured. That would ensure that people around you would tend to you also, when you're down. Damn does this man love body massages, giving them to you and watching your shoulders slump. He needs to be so careful with you though. Can’t be too rough else his little baby would break… <3

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hisui-dreamer · 4 months

Text

definitely not prophetic!

Character: Riddle Rosehearts, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Cater Diamond, Trey Clover, Leona Kingscholar, Jack Howl, Ruggie Bucchi, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech, Kalim Al-Asim, Jamil Viper, Vil Schoenheit, Epel Felmier, Rook Hunt, Idia Shroud, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt, Lilia Vanrouge, Malleus Draconia

pick one of your favs from above when reading!

Masterlist

imagine having dreams of him every night, each time showcasing him with you, perfectly in love in different scenarios. sometimes you're on vacation and you're exploring some new place, sometimes you're waking up in his embrace as sunlight peeks through the window, and on the rare occasion, you hear bell-like laughter from children running up to you, dragging him along by pulling at his hand, the very picture of domestic bliss

you're not sure what to make of these dreams, you don't even know him that well, having met him just a few weeks ago, and now you're having these dreams about him? what if they were prophetic dreams? no, no, you shouldn't think that way, you don't even have any feelings towards him, so isn't saying they're prophetic dreams too much of a stretch? it almost sounds like you want it to become reality! there's no proof any of these visions are set to happen! you still want to go home after all!

home. that's right, you should be going home. that's your utmost priority, and if anything you should be avoiding the person who keeps appearing in your dreams, juust in case they are prophetic dreams which they are not because he'll keep you tied to twisted wonderland.

only if you keep avoiding a person who has never once interacted with you, you'll only intrigue them more. he didn't mind the fact at all, but as he's observing you from the window, joking around with all your other friends that you have obviously not avoided, he feels a smidge of hurt and maybe even jealously.

he's hearing all this praise about what a nice person you are, how willing you are to help others and talk to other people, meanwhile your attitude towards him is a complete 180; avoiding his gaze when he's trying to speak with you, running off with some random excuse of an errand, or even straight up turning away the moment you locked eyes with him! isn't this a little bit too cruel?

meanwhile, you can't say your feelings for him are entirely hostile. it'd be too difficult to hate a person who always smiles so endearingly at you, who holds you like you mean the entire world to them, whose laugh always washes away any trace of fatigue in you. you're cursing yourself for being so easily swayed by these dreams, but thankfully this motivates you to further limit your interactions with him.

this, of course, does not go unnoticed by him. and to say he's upset is the understatement of the century. what has he done to provoke you this time?! he's only tried to be nice to you, make good conversation, sevens, he's even tried to bribe you with your favourite food that he overheard you mention!

ok, he's having none of this avoiding, at the very least he demands an explanation as to why you act so strangely only around him.

he seizes the opportunity when it comes, a hand next to your head, pinning you against the stone wall in a silent hallway. his narrowed eyes peer into yours, and you can't help but get lost in the clarity that often eludes you in your dreams. his eyes glisten with a captivating sparkle, framed by delicate eyelashes, and you can almost imagine his voice murmuring sweet nothings to you as he showers you in affection...

no, no, no! this is exactly why you're avoiding him!!

you feel your face heat up so much so that it feels like a blazing furnace, radiating so intensely that it sparks a whirlwind of dizziness within you. you avert your gaze to the ground and you try to get out of this situation, but he's not having any of it.

he tilts your chin upwards so you'll face him once again, his touch gentle and familiar just like the ones in your dreams, and he's granted the sight of you, blushing and flustered and so so overwhelmed and-

...oh?

did... did his heart just skip a beat?

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throneofsapphics · 5 months

Note

I figured I should ask before requesting but here goes nothing, again, ‼️TW‼️;

Can I request more angst with Az? Like uhmm.... Maybe the reader has extreme trust issues and she finally has opened up to Az but now that Elaine is here, she finds Ax drifting (not much but they don't do their normal dinners together as much as they used to, they don't bathe together as much, etc, small things she needs to that stability) and it starts to eat away at her but she doesn't want to tell Az about her feelings because she feels like a burden but then maybe Mor or someone convinces her to talk to him but he's had a long day so he snaps at her and leaves and she ends up... Offing herself..... Uhm.. and then Az's finding her body the next morning and his reaction and everyone else's too...... 👁️👁️

It only takes three

Azriel x Reader

Summary: “There were three words you came to say, three little syllables, and it only took three to shatter you.”

Warnings: suicide, pills & alcohol, suicidal ideation, angst

A/N: I appreciate you asking, thank you for the request! & what’s a little more trauma for the inner circle? know your triggers y'all, this is heavy

Azriel dedicated himself to gaining your trust. The one person who managed to knock those walls down, and it took decades before you’d opened up to him. Mor was a close second. Maybe it was a cliche, but he understood you, more than anyone else. He’d listened through everything, listened as you broke, and helped you put the pieces back together.

All these years, you’d been waiting and hoping he’d see it, hoping he’d feel the same bond you did. You were somewhere between friends and lovers, nothing ever clear or defined. But, you knew he was the one person you could rely on.

Resentment was ugly, and so was jealousy, but you couldn’t help those emotions as you watched his infatuation with the middle Archeron sister grow. It was nothing against her, she truly was a lovely person, and you could see why Azriel took an interest in her. The nasty little voice told you he’d grown tired of you, that you were too much, that he’d found someone less burdensome - as you’d always feared.

At first, you wrote it off as him being busy. That’s what he said - and he’d never lied to you. After the war with Hybern, things hadn’t quite settled and his workload was high. You tried to be understanding, to be respectful of the boundaries he’d subtly set. But you craved your old routine. Wednesday morning breakfasts, him slipping into your bed when he couldn’t sleep, bringing him tea when you knew he was working a late night. He used to always leave his door cracked, but recently it had been locked. Any knocks went unanswered, even though you could hear him inside. Instead, you’d leave the cup outside of his door, only to find it there in the mornings - untouched.

It really began to fall apart, to you, when you went to visit Feyre at the River House. Azriel said he had some kind of work mission, that he’d be out for the day, and as Feyre led you around, he was in the gardens, with Elain. You didn’t let him see you, instead you stuck out the rest of the tour with a smile, saving your tears for home.

It was a different type of torture, watching the one person destined for you fall in love with someone else. You tortured yourself too, holding on to hope he’d realize and he’d come back to you.

Finally, you built the courage to tell Mor. You needed a sounding board, someone to give some advice, someone outside of your head.

“Tell him,” Mor encouraged you, “he’ll understand.”

“He’s been pulling away, I don’t want him to think I’m trying to … I don't know, trap him.”

“Az,” she sighed, “he’s wanted to find his mate for … well maybe even for centuries. For a shadowsinger, he’s too stubborn to see what’s right in front of him,” her mouth curved up at one corner. “If you don’t tell him, he might never know. I imagine you’re tired of waiting.”

“You have no idea,” you laughed, but stood. Brave. Three words; I’m your mate, and at least the weight would be off your chest. Whatever happened next, whatever his reaction was, you could figure that out as it came. Despite the growing distance, he was still the person you trusted above all, and you knew he wouldn’t hurt you.

For once, his door was open. This felt like a good sign.

“Az,” you called, peeking your head inside the room. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Tomorrow,” a clipped one word answer, not even bothering to look up from his desk.

“It really is important.”

“It can wait.” there was such a finality in his tone. Almost like he thought nothing regarding you could be important. But you wanted to give it one more shot.

“Please-”

“I don’t care, whatever it is, I. Don’t. Care.”

Well, he’d finally looked up at you, like you were some obnoxious fly he was trying to get rid of. Swallowing your tears, you nodded and turned away. Part of you knew you couldn’t promise tomorrow.

There were three words you came to say, three little syllables, and it only took three to shatter you. To shatter the fragile self he’d helped you build.

Maybe it was intentional. You knew exactly what this cocktail could do to you, and you wanted that sweet release to drag you under. When every breath felt like a chore, every word like an ache tearing out of you, it felt like the only option.

One hand clutched the bottle of pills, the other the bottle of wine.

Pills from a friend, who warned you taking too many could kill you. That warning was a siren call now.

You were already drunk when you poured the entire bottle into your hands, throwing them back without a second thought, wine washing them down. It would take you into sweet, sweet oblivion, and only the mother knew whether you’d wake up on this earth or not.

Maybe your soul could become one of those pretty little spirits, migrating on starfall. Or maybe you’d end up in another universe, like the ones you studied in the library. You giggled to yourself. Anywhere else felt like a better option now.

You were definitely hallucinating, because three little butterflies floated in front of you, reaching out you felt them touch your fingers. Was it welcoming? Or an omen? The butterflies faded, bursting into dust, and the tears began. A few minutes later, you knew nothing.

“Where’s y/n?” Mor asked Azriel as he stalked into the room. He was still in a piss-poor mood, and this was the last thing he wanted to do this morning. Going to a court meeting.

“Do I look like her keeper?”

Mor seemed a bit confused by his response. “Can you get her?”

He wanted to ask; why not you, but it felt a bit too childish. Besides, he needed to talk about last night anyway. Too late, a shadow whispered in his ear. It’s never too late, he could fix this. Taking the stairs two at a time, he headed for your bedroom. Shadows swirled around him, in front of him, searching and … storming the room. They unlocked the door before he could, gone, gone, gone, they whispered to him. Had you left in the middle of the night? He couldn’t hear you in there, but your scent was still fresh.

And alcohol. A pit settled in his stomach. Gone. Too late.

Azriel pushed the door open. Not in your room. A small click and his shadows opened the door to your bathing room. There were sweet and tender memories from that room. Him washing your hair, delicately working through the strands that always seemed tangled, you washing his wings.

He didn’t think this would be one of those memories.

Pushing the door open, he fell to his knees.

Mor heard the guttural scream, one of pain and sorrow. Something she’d never heard from Az. Mor didn’t bother taking the stairs, and winnowed to your door. Directly across from her, another door was swung open, offering her a clear view. Azriel on his knees in front of … your body. Lips blue, skin white. His hands pressed down on your chest, up and down, up and down.

“You’re late,” Rhys said, echoing through her mind. She only cast the image to him. Within a minute, more voices and footsteps sounded inside the house. Mor had already crossed the room, kneeling next to Azriel, her magic searching desperately for a sign of life.

Minutes later, Madja was there, crowding in behind her. Cassian pulled a thrashing Azriel away from your body.

Mor could only stand by the door, mouth parted and body still in shock.

An empty pill bottle, one blue pill laying next to your hand, as if it had fallen out. An empty bottle of wine on the floor, dregs of red liquid still gathering in the bottle.

Today was supposed to be good. Last night, you’d told Azriel you were his mate. She was prepared for the two of you to miss today entirely.

Something had gone terribly wrong. Whirling around, she took one step closer to the shadowsinger, each movement laced with fury, entire body trembling.

“Did you reject her?” Mor had skipped the earthly and deadly quiet, and screamed at Az, power rumbling through the room.

“What do you mean reject?”

“She is - was - your mate.”

Azriel felt like his world stopped. Each word sliced into his chest. Mate.

That’s what you wanted to tell him, and he told you, unequivocally, that he didn’t care. He was the person you trusted above all others, at one point. The one who spent decades breaking down those walls, slowly and carefully gaining your trust. Decades working towards that goal, and a year to throw it away.

This was his fault.

He could imagine the hopeful look on your face as you peeked into his door. If he’d seen that … if he’d just looked.

“Az, can I talk to you about something?” Fuck, he’d forgotten to lock his door. Papers obscured his entire vision. Today had been too damn much, and he didn’t want to talk to anyone. It wasn’t specifically you.

“Tomorrow,”

“It really is important.” Desperation, but he knew there wasn’t much going on in your life. A shadow swirled angrily at the callous thoughts.

“It can wait.”

“Please-”

He looked at you, your face had fallen. The beginnings of tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. Listen, listen, listen, his shadows were nearly begging. Tomorrow, he told them.

“I don’t care, whatever it is, I. Don’t. Care.”

You finally left. A small tinge of guilt, but he’d make it up to you tomorrow, or maybe the next day - that would be Wednesday, and he’d get up early to bring you breakfast, the old tradition you’d fallen out of habit with. Something easily revived.

Tomorrow, however, would be chock full of meetings. Meetings you’d be at too, and he’d make the time to hear you out, to apologize.

Now, a shadow curled next to his ear, pleading. He ignored it. They’d always favored you, and now he’d even say they were fussing. You were strong enough.

Azriel had ignored everything. Ignored each warning sign, ignored the desperate pleas of his shadows and the tears on your face. You cried, but it was never often.

“It’s my fault,” he said - more to himself. “My fault.”

He felt himself crumble, felt everything he used to keep himself in check slip away, his magic threatening to burst from him, to turn this house to rubble. He didn’t fight as Rhys grabbed him, as he winnowed him out to somewhere far out in the mountains. His brother released him as soon as they landed, but didn’t leave, he didn’t abandon him. Rhys should’ve, should’ve left him out here to bury himself. That’s what he deserved.

The ground shook, parts of the mountains surrounding him faded into dust, snow flooded down the sides, birds squawked as they fled. He spent hours, hours and hours up there - until his siphons dulled, until he felt his magic start to protest, until Rhys had to knock him unconscious before he let it tear him apart.

#azriel x y/n #azriel x reader #acotar drabble #acotar x reader

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fever-fluff · 5 months

Text

Cat's Out of the Bag, Claws and All Pt II

Word Count: 3.5k (not proof read) Am I writing this instead of doing my finals? Yes. Is it going to be worth it? I bloody hope so. Please do tell me what you think, I didn't expect the first part to go down as well as it did so I hope this lives up to expectations :D

Synopsis: The fallout of Azriel finding out about the bond is bigger than anyone though it would be

Thoughts swirled in your mind as you tried to find Azriel. You’d checked everyone house, the training ring, even going as far as to walk through Velaris aimlessly until you could spot some trail from your mate.

Gods, how had you messed this up? You knew Azriel’s feelings towards the mating bond. In your first few weeks together, he’d explained everything that had happened to his brothers, how they’d found their other halves in the form of two sisters, and that he was sure the third had been meant for him. It had ached to hear him talk of Elain like that, to know your mate was so sure of another that he could not see you right in front of him.

But the shattered tether between you two had torn long before that. Azriel had been sealed shut to the rope intertwining you two for centuries. You had pushed so much love into that bond in the beginning, so much that it had grown thick and blinding on your end, but slithered to nothing at his. Mor and Feyre had helped you come to terms with that, and you never faulted Azriel for guarding himself so tightly. Rhys had mentioned in a off handed conversation that Az was the toughest out of everyone to breach when he needed to speak with him, that he’d built his mental walls so high of his own suffering even one of the most talented Daementi found it sometimes impossible to penetrate.

So, instead of withering away over a bond that would never snap, you had stopped pouring all your love into something only you could see and began pushing it into your words and actions over time. Azriel had accepted it all, finally overcoming his preconceived loss and accepted the love of his own accord. But now you’d gone and torn down everything you’d built with him in months over a few seconds.

You’d looked all day, and he was still nowhere to be found. So, you’d call it a night and look tomorrow, not looking froward to the cold sheets that awaited you.

Except they weren’t cold, a very real, very sombre looking figure with curling wings sat on you side of the bed. You felt the tears of relief spring to release, and made to sit in front of him, an acceptable distance away so as not to touch him in fear of him turning away.

“Azriel?” you hadn’t felt this meek in eons. The weeks gone by had truly taken their toll.

“Did you just say that today to get them off your back?”

Gods, you truly wished he could feel the bond right about now. Feel how much it pulsed in the admittance one of you believed it didn’t exist. Azriel was your life force, what you lived and breathed for every second of everyday. How could he think this was not real? Any of it?

“No, gods no. Azriel, it’s real. It’s there, I promise you.” If he walked away now, you didn’t think you would be able to handle it. Everything had been good, so good. Was looking to have him all to yourself for a couple weeks the wave that toppled the boat? Was your selfishness the flap of the butterfly’s wings that sent an earthquake through the rest of your life?

But the darkened look from Azriel was enough for you to know this was not about you. He wasn’t asking to catch you in a lie. “I-I can’t feel it. It’s never snapped, and it’s been months. How-how can you still be here?”

Leaving the distance between you had been a mistake. Lunging for you mate, you placed your hands either side of his face, and lifted his tear filled eyes to meet yours. “Because I love you, Azriel. Bond or no bond, I love you.”

He shook his head, “there’s nothing to love. I can’t even feel something so innately ingrained in our beings, how can you find anything worth so much?” he had turned his back to you, standing to walk to the dresser.

“Azriel, do not walk away from me.” Fuck being nice, he never responded to your pretty words when he was like this before, how could you think different now. “Shout at me, curse me to Hel, but never walk away from me.”

“What…what can you find in me that you’d rather me stay than go?!” he was spiralling into the darkness that had swallowed him in the first years he had been in this world. Azriel was throwing you his lifeline, and you reached and tugged on it with everything you had.

“Because you’re made for me! In every sense of the word. You are everything I’ve ever wanted for every century I’ve been alive. And even if you cannot feel that I have been made for you, I will prove it every single day of this life and the next that you are wrong if you think not.”

You had stepped up to him again, searching his eyes to see if he’d truly heard you, “I know you hate those stupid parties, I know you hate it when Cassian leaves his sweaty towels in the ring after training. You don’t like the tea Rhys gives you in your early morning meetings, but you still drink it because its been 150 years and to admit it now would make you look bad. I know that Mor’s perfume, the one she wears when the seasons change from winter to spring, makes your nose itch and you sneeze every time you smell it. You don’t like Elain’s scones because of the raisins, and Feyre’s awful singing to Nyx at the crack of dawn.”

“And I love all of you, Azriel. Every damn part of you. The only thing I would change is how much you allow everyone you’ve let into your heart walk all over you.”

Azriel’s breath hitched and the tears that clung to his lashes finally trailed down his cheeks. “I – I… what if it never snaps. What if the bond never snaps for me? What then?”

Closing the distance that had grown once again between you two, you made to grab for him. Holding his face to yours, you felt your tears fall as your mate’s hands covered your own. “Then I’ll love you even more than I already do. I don’t need you to feel the bond Azriel, if you never feel it, then it’s okay. I will love every broken piece of you, even if I can never put them back together.”

You meant it. Every word. Azriel had been broken too many times for you to even think you could fix what hadn’t been whole since he was born. But those pieces of himself, the ones he clung to so desperately and allowed only a few fae to ever glimpse at were worth so much more to you than anything else. You’d hold them, even if they cut and sliced you over and over, and press them close to your own heart, hoping that the love there would be enough to stop them from shattering entirely.

“Ask me to stay, Azriel, and I swear to you that there will not be a day that you won’t know how much I love you.”

You could see the doubt in his eyes, the fear that one day the half-made bond would not be enough to keep you with him. But you needed him to take that risk. And you would take care of the rest. He needed to have the faith to jump, and it was only him who could make that choice.

And as he closed his eyes, resting his head against yours, you felt your whole world tilt on its axis, ready for the words that would seal your fate.

Stay.

It had been fifty years since that day, and Azriel finally began to understand that you were there to stay.

The weeks after the admittance of there being a bond between you had been some of the toughest he’d ever lived through. But it was no one’s fault but his own.

He’d pushed you repeatedly, subconsciously seeing if you would snap under the pressures he shouldn’t have ever needed to place upon you. Rhys had given you leave of your position for the few weeks, but in the end you hadn’t returned to your post for a full year after everything. His constant tearing at your relationship had snapped and sliced at you so much you had become so tired it was even a chore to fight with him, and he realised almost too late that you would rather endure it than leave, nearly turning you to a shell of yourself.

He'd been gone for nearly two months at this point. The mission shouldn’t have taken this long, but Azriel couldn’t find it in himself to return.

Every time he did, this knawing guilt would eat at his insides about fighting with you once again. It wasn’t your fault, it never was. You tried everything to support him, and yet he kept pushing and even he couldn’t understand why.

Cassian and Rhys had sent word not too long ago that he was needed back at the earliest time possible, and it had been their words, not yours, that spurred him to return to the city.

He should’ve answered your letters.

“She’s not responding to the treatments like she should. It’s too slow, and I fear the malnourishment is starting to outweigh whatever help I can give her.” Madja’s words iced his whole being, Cassian and Rhys looked away in shame.

“Where is she?” the plea in his voice did not go unnoticed by the others, but none seemed inclined to tell him.

“Azriel, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see her right now. We called you back in case anything serious should happen.” Cassian placed a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged away from the hold. “You don’t get to make that decision. She’s my mate! I’m supposed to help her!”

“You should tell him.” It was Nesta, coming out from putting Nyx to bed. “Maybe he’ll finally get it through his thick skull if he sees what’s happening.” She’d never used that tone with him, harsh and cold unlike anything he’d heard except the first few months she’d been brought to their court. He felt himself want to cower in the face of Lady Death. You two had always been close, your ability to take on Nesta’s bite and stop it before it festered allowed her to settle a new bond outside of Emerie and Gwyn, something everyone was glad for.

Rhys sighed but relented, and Azriel winnowed to you before any of them could change their minds.

You had been moved to the cabin, away from prying eyes of the fae who’d attempt to do harm while you weren’t your full self. Feyre and Mor had placed extra wards in case, and he had to call to Rhys to ask them to let him through as he felt them blocking his path.

The cabin was warm, fire blazing in the hearth as he made to search the room you were staying in. But the bundle of blankets on the couch had his feet lurching to turn in its direction. You were sleeping, although it was fretful, and the feel of his hand barely grazing your skin was enough to snap you eyes open.

“Az?” You were like ice, and the croak in your voice reminded him of how Feyre had been when Rhys had first called in their bargain all those years ago.

“It’s me.” He reached for your hand, intertwining it with his as he lifted you to sit up. The blankets fell from your form, and his breath hitched to see your bones protrude more than was healthy. Gods, how had he not noticed until now?

Your smile was what broke him the most. Lips chapped, it didn’t reach as wide as it did before, and the warmth it usually held was dulled to a small ember. “Did you get my letters?”

The letters. Oh gods, he hadn’t read any of them. Too scared of his own thoughts that one would be about you leaving before he arrived home.

His reaction must have told you everything you needed, and your smile dropped as your eyes turned like glass. “Did-did you not want to come home?”

Fuck, what had he done?

“I-”

Azriel never finished that sentence. Your head had rolled to the side as he made to catch your falling form. Sitting up had become too much for you, and the little energy you had was expelled in the very few words you’d spoken to him.

Rhys. He called for his brother. Rhys, what do I do? What’s happened?

His answer was almost immediate. Madja says she’s been strained too much. It’s the bond cracking. Even if you can’t feel it, all the fighting has been tearing at it from her end.

He’d done this. He’d torn at her so much he was going to kill her.

Gathering her in the blankets, he lifted her down closer to the warmth of the fire, settling her to his body as he wrapped his wings around them both. Her breathing began to even out as she fell into another shallow sleep, but it seemed she had enough strength to hold onto him, curling her hands in the front of his tunic. “Please stay. I don’ wanna fight anymore, Az. Please, just stay.”

Azriel tightened his arms around his mate, the one who’d given him everything even as he tore her down to nothing in the past few months. “I’m here. I promise, no more fighting. I’ll stay.”

The mark weaved onto the shadowsinger’s skin, burning into it like no other bargain had ever done before. It settled where her head now rested, over the fractured parts of a heart he had refused to allow her to put back together.

But as sleep pulled her further under, Azriel swore he could feel one part stitch itself slowly to another. He’d mend it. If not for himself, then for the woman he had nearly lost to his own darkness.

She wouldn’t leave, he knew that now. But he would no longer make it so hard for her to stay.

Watching now, as she sat having tea in the garden with Elain, Azriel thought of how he’d been so foolish in his first five hundred years of life.

If he’d just waited, and used all those wishes at starfall he wasted on Mor and Elain to instead wish for a chance to meet his real mate, he go back to all that time ago and start over.

You were laughing unabashed at Elain’s annoyance with the sprites leaving bite marks in her prized tulips, keeling over as the middle Archeron shooed them away for the hundredth time.

His own smile turned up at your outward display of happiness. It had taken a while, and months away from one another to get back to this point after he’d realised his mistake. Madja had been helping you recover, while he spent time with the Priestesses to figure out how to get past his own fears and love you like you loved him.

You had sent him word of how you were doing every week, never pressing him to write back but letting him know you’d be waiting when he felt it was right to return. After the first few, he has picked up his own quill and began spilling his thoughts onto paper.

Azriel had realised that while you would put him above all else, that wasn’t always a good thing. He needed to learn how to do that for himself so you wouldn’t lose yourself again. And he had.

He was still the courts spymaster, but his workload had dropped immensely in the past few years. He trusted his spies more often to fill the menial tasks he once filled his time with, and instead spent it doting on you like he should’ve from the beginning.

His heart was slowly mending itself, and he was now more comfortable within himself to not allow the darkness in him to stray from the light.

The last pieces of the puzzle were finally placing themselves back when he’d asked you about the bond and how it felt. You explained to him that it was there, thought it was purely a string of thread between you. Because of the block on one side, you couldn’t feel his emotions or his thoughts, and it had settled something in him he hadn’t realised was so restless.

You truly had loved him for him. There was no extra help from your end, you had to put in just as much as him to make it work.

Grabbing his mug from the counter, he rounded to the door that would lead him out to you. As if sensing him, you turned, and gave him that wonderful smile that had his whole body humming in delight.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” He wrapped himself around you as you greeted him. “You were dead to the world this morning. I’ve never seen you sleep so soundly.”

His hum vibrated against your neck as he placed a kiss on the tender skin. “I was. Couldn’t wake up even when you left. Something has me more tired than usual.”

Being open with you like this was still new to him, and there was still that knawing at the back of his skull that he shouldn’t be revealing something so vulnerable. But as you turned in his hold and wrapped your hands round his middle, he felt it subside. “Maybe its all those years of running on practically nothing creeping up on you.”

“Maybe.” Even now, his words broke off into a yawn, and he felt himself cuddle into your warmth as a soft breeze blew in.

“Well, its lucky we have the day to ourselves then. I asked Rhys last night if we could take a little break.” He could still feel your apprehension as you spoke. It was still there at times, unsurety settling in when you doubted how he’d react.

“I would love nothing more.” Placing a kiss onto the top of your head, Azriel made to pull away to grab his mug.

“Sit. I’ll get us something to eat.” You made for the door he had walked through, but the smash of ceramic had you head snapping back to Azriel.

“Az?”

His breathing had turned heavy, and all that weight of tiredness had lifted from his body in an instant.

Turning to face you, you watched as he mouthed something you thought you’d never hear from his mouth with such reverence.

Mate.

Fifty years. Fifty years of utter turmoil and love and pain and happiness. All of it washed over him at once. He felt the bond, coiling and snapping and threading its way round his very soul. It was thick, more like rope than a mere tendril. And he felt everything he’d shut out from the very moment of meeting you for the very first time. He watched the realisation hit your face, your hands shaking as if you didn’t know whether to grab for him or stay where you were.

“You- you can feel it?”

He felt his voice choke on the simple yea and it was all it took to have you running into his arms hard enough to force you both to the grass beneath you. Laughter, pure and loving laughter spilled from your lips, and he pulled you as close as possible. His own joined not a minute after.

Azriel felt it thrum from you to him, everything you had to give poured down to his side of the bond, as if it had been waiting for this moment. He supposed it had, and as he took everything you had to offer, he returned it tenfold.

Azriel realised then that it wasn’t his heart from stopping the bond from forming. Even if it was still broken, it would have found a way to wrap around it.

No, the only thing that had stopped it all this time, was he fear of giving everything and receiving nothing. Even when you had shown you would, his own mind had fooled him into believing otherwise.

But you had never blamed him, and the missing part of himself had finally returned home when he had stopped blaming himself.

Azriel knew then that he was worthy of the love you gave him, and that you had been right. Even if the bond had never snapped, he would still love you just as much as you loved him.

Taglist (bold could not be tagged) @kalulakunundrum @imnotsiriusyouare @notsarareallynot @mell-bell @ang-taylorsversion @finleyjaycee @luvletterstogwyn @dwkfan @sagskylar01 @hnyclover

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel angst #azriel spymaster #azriel #azriel acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fanfic #fem reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel fluff #azriel x you #acotar x reader #az x reader

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moonlitnyx · 6 months

Text

𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

Starring | Jing Yuan, Blade, Gepard, Luocha, Dan Heng

Synopsis | How would they react if they had a crush on you!

Format | Short drabbles/fics on each character

CW | fluff, just some general sappy stuff, blatant favoritism for jing yuan and bladie, slight angst(?) with Luocha, Gepard is pathetic (affectionate), Luocha's is short cuz I don't have a full grasp of his character yet

AN | I want to burry my head in jing yuan and blade's titties.

𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍

The golden-eyed general has never been one to be shy, his bravado and confidence radiating off of him like golden light. Yet when it comes to you, Jing Yuan can't help but mind how he acts, how he looks, how he speaks when he's around you. You have practically invaded his head like mara, and he doesn't know if thats a better or worse situation.

He still is confident, self-assured in every way, yet when he sees you he can't help the pink blush that spreads on his pale cheeks, or how soft smiles peek out instead of his usual annoyingly-charming smirks.

At night, he looks out of his window as he leans on the edge, and gazes at the stars. A perfectly ordinary sight-he's seen it many times, and the grandiose of the galaxy has worn off for him. Yet his eyes sparkle, and his hand reaches out, almost trying to touch a glittering star, and he hums contemplatively. Maybe love has made him young and earnest again, and he smiles at the thought.

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄

The cold, calloused man has no need for love in his life. It has never been in priority, having already juggling mara and his want for revenge. How you wormed into his heart, which had been cold and unbeating for the past centuries, is something that both scares and surprises him.

Mara is something that will come for all long-life species. It is a unshakeable prophecy, urged by negative memories and a whirlwind of emotions. He knows he shouldn't be greedy-you could get hurt from staying near him-yet he's selfish too. He wants you, craves your love like how humans might crave immortality.

Blade stays silent as he watches you laugh with Kafka, watches you play games with Silver Wolf as you try to bite back curses from losing, and he can't help but marvel of your existence. His cold, unbeating heart fills with warmth, his dead eyes alit for what seems to be the first time in ages, and he makes a silent promise.

He will protect your smile for the rest of his long, torturous life.

𝐆𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐃

Gepard is the Captain of the Silvermane Guards, protector of Belabog. He's faced the stellaron crisis, of all things. Yet, in the face of adversity, it is you that makes him falter. He'd rather stay out in the cold all day than embarrass himself in front of you, rather face monsters of unspeakable power then make you angry or sad.

Gepard wrings his hands, tries to hide the blooming red blush thats spreading on his cheeks when you smile at him, even goes so far as to avoid you to try and hide his embarrassment, of the train wreck of emotions he has for you.

"Hey, Gepard!" You wave your hand as you see the blonde-haired man, and he shyly waves back, which earns a playful punch to the side from Serval. He feels his face heating up, and thanks the Aeons that your oblivious to his plight.

𝐋𝐔𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐀

Luocha is elegant, refined-a pure gentleman. Nothing phases him, well, how could he be surprised when everything is but a pawn in his game of chess against the Aeons? But you, you were something he hadn't counted for. Whatever you did, whatever you said-was something Luocha never expected. And the feelings that brewed in his heart wasn't expected, either.

Luocha doesn't show it, a mask carefully placed that it would never slip. He's cold, distant, yet polite at the same time. He doesn't come near you, but he doesn't decline your pleads for help. He's quiet, but he doesn't ignore you when you speak.

Even though he tries to hide, his love for you still overpowers his will to push you away.

𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆

The dark-haired boy is silent, but that doesn't mean he's unfeeling.

Under his cold exterior, lies a beating heart full of love. Love for the Astral Express, love for his friends, and love for you. Although he doesn't show it, he expresses it through his actions, through his words. He expresses it through the looks he sends you, the soft smile that graces his lips when you talk.

Dan Heng has always tried to run away from his past-from the Xianzhou, from the title of Imbibitor Lunae. But that isn't the same way he thinks for you, no, he wants to run to you. But he's fine being near you just as much, being next to you as you smile and giggle with March, or play video-games with their new, gray-haired friend.

March gives a pointed look to Dan Heng, arms crossed as they huff. "You should tell them!" Her voice echoes in the small, cramped space of the Archive Room as Dan Heng groans. "Tell them you like them!"

"I'm fine just being next to them," Dan Heng retorts, even though his heart years to not just be next to you, but to be with you.

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