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hazbn-oneshots · 3 months

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Bathtime Headcanons

Just a few headcanons for sharing a bubble bath with the main characters. Enjoy!

Charlie:

oddly enough Charlie doesn’t partake in full baths as much as she favors showers.

She’s busy dealing with the hotel and along with ruling as the Princess of Hell so she much prefers a quick warm spray.

On the occasion, however, she finds herself tired enough that you might just be able to convince her to indulge with you.

You make a point of dredging up any kind of bubble bath, bath bomb, lotion, anything you can find to ensure that you can provide the best bubble bath possible.

Music plays softly over a small speaker, but it’s drowned out the hushed whispers of words of love as you meticulously wash and condition her hair.

Conditioning is your favorite step. Charlie didn’t need it often as her hair somehow stayed so silky, so every now and then when you got to run a soft brush through her hair, twisting it gently to pin atop her head.

She tries to wash you in return but you always push her hand away, insisting on pampering her after a hard day.

Usually ends with you drying her off and carrying her to bed when she inevitably passes out.

Vaggie:

Vaggie loves baths but she’s hard pressed to admit it. Nothing feels better on sore muscles than a nice soak, ideally with lavender. She loves lavender.

The two of you had been dating for about 6 months before she even entertained the idea of going to you with such a request.

She was too embarrassed to ask.

-in the end, how she broaches the subject is by surprising you one night when you return home. A few candles lined the edge of the bathtub that was filled nearly to the brim with bubbles.

”I just thought it would be nice, you’ve been gone all day” And you know better to react calmly should you risk spooking the flustered angel with the scarlet red face.

She’s the one that drags it out in the end. She’d wrap her arms just a little tighter around your waist and mutter about how the water would stay warm for just a little longer.

Vaggie gives sweet towel hugs.

Alastor:

Listen, Alastor takes pride in his hygiene. He takes the utmost care to keep himself and his dress in immaculate condition.

He’ll invest in facial creams, hair creams, body creams, oils, lotions, you name it and he’s used it.

But baths? No. Absolutely not.

You’ve only attempted to convince Alastor to take a bath with you and neither occasion ended particularly well. The radio demon wouldn’t speak to you for a week after the first failed attempt and had all but removed himself from your life with the second so you couldn’t say you were in any hurry for a third.

However, the two of you have come to a happy compromise. Whenever you found yourself in the mood to draw a bath you would sometimes find Alastor pulling a chair up next to the tub with a book tucked under his arm. So would begin a lovely tradition between the both of you.

More than once you’ve found yourself dozing to the soft static of the Alastor’s voice, and in response the demon would lightly tap his cane against the edge of the tub to rouse you.

Don’t fall asleep though, three strikes and he’ll leave you in the tub. No he doesn’t.

Husk:

Not. A. Fan. Considering his entire being consists of fur and feathers, Husk can and will do everything within his power to avoid bathing if he can. Look, it’s just not his idea of a fun night to sit down with a hairdryer and attempt to wring himself out as best he can.

Inevitably he’d miss a spot and end up with stale wet cat smell and no one likes that, especially not our resident grump.

He won’t make a fuss if you want to bathe with him though. What he will do is laugh while patting your shoulder. “I’ll wait for ya in the room”

The more comfortable he gets, however, you’ll start to see that eventually Husk begins to find reasons just to ‘wander’ into the bathroom with you. He misses you, you know it, but it’s still sweet to see him making the excuse of looking for his lucky pair of boxers.

”The water’s always warm darlin”

You better get the blow dryer ready, the only way you can convince him is if you’ll deal with it. You don’t mind though, the purrs are worth it

Angel Dust:

You and Angel take turns picking which bath bombs and bubble baths that you’ll throw into whichever potion you’ll be brewing up tonight.

Bathtime with Angel was always a favorite for you, you couldn’t think of anything better than getting to curl up with your cuddle bug in your arms. Although things never really stay that way for long.

It’s hard not to tease while washing each other. A slip of the hand here, just a little rough touch of loofah there, just a sweet little taste of what could be but the restraint comes easy in the relaxed atmosphere. Just in times like these Angel will be patient enough to wait until you can actually make it to the bed.

Angel won’t let you wash his hair. You don’t know why he’s so particular about it but if you interrupt his routine of products then his entire night is ruined so you choose the peaceful route and leave the man be. That doesn’t mean he won’t wash your hair for you if you ask though, those four hands of his do wonders at massaging the scalp.

Angel will 10/10 let you towel dry him every single time and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t use it as an opportunity to make a show at bending this way and that, making sure to get every inch of him.

He looks like a fluffy mess afterwards but hey, he’s your fluffy mess.

Requests open!!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor x reader #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanon #husk headcanons #husk x reader #angel dust headcanons #angel dust x reader #vaggie x reader

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nmakii · 13 days

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ONLY BOUGHT THIS DRESS SO YOU COULD TAKE IT OFF

— alastor + vox + adam’s fashion preferences on their significant other. gn!

— alastor

alastor finds anything that compliments your figure to be gorgeous. he can’t be upset when you’re confident in yourself.

though, if you’re really asking, he can’t be dishonest, can he? he adores formal wear. cocktail dresses, suits, waistcoats, gowns, the way they hold a certain elegance is something that just can’t be matched.

the way they hug your waist is simply too attractive, all he wants to do is eat you up. a beautiful sight like you would most definitely be a feast. not that he was thinking of eating you!

true, it’s not the most practical of clothes to be worn on the daily— but, it’s still a delectable treat once in a while.

“sweetheart, are you ready?” alastor asks, knocking on the door. “we must hurry, the opera waits for no one!” he laughs as he opens the door. and when he does, he is pleasantly surprised to see the outfit you’ve chosen for tonight.

the way formal wear compels you to carry yourself with poise and confidence is something that simply makes you all the more attractive to him.

“my, my! look what the cat dragged in!” alastor joked. “you look ravishing, dear. are you ready?” he asked. he walked over to you as he took hold of your hips, running his claws up and down the fabric and silently admiring your figure.

“mhm!” you nodded. “lovely.” he grins, holding his cane in one hand, and wrapping his arm tightly around your waist in the other.

as you walked, there was something off about alastor. he truly did hide it well, but there was definitely something bothering him.

his breath, quiet as ever, was heavy and reeking of desire. and, his body temperature was off the charts, as if he had been running a fever.

“alastor, are you alright?” you looked to your side. “of course, i am! simply excited for the show, that’s all!” alastor said, clearing his throat. “really? you’re kind of burning up, and you’re breathing heavily…” you noted.

alastor fell silent, choosing the best way to respond. “i’d suggest you not ask that, love.” he warned. “any further, and i may just eat you up!” he grinned as he left a kiss on your cheek, tightening his grip on you.

“oh? should i hold you to that promise?” you teased back at him. “hmph, don’t test your luck.” he shook his head in perplexity. “tell me, would you like to be cooked slow-roasted or braised?” alastor asked, to your shock.

alastor clearly enjoyed your reaction, laughing quite loudly. “wh— i’d like to not be cooked at all!” you frowned. “hmm… fine. only because you’re so sweet.” he shrugged in surrender.

— vox

vox loves everything elegant. whether it be a flowing dress, or a well-fitted suit, it gets him hungry. hungry for you, that is.

the way they accentuate every little curve and muscle is just so appealing to him, he just can’t help his hands to himself!

elegance simply compliments your body so sweetly, he wants to show off his little treat from heaven to everyone who’ll listen. this may or may not be the reason he brings you to every event.

“do i really have to go to this?” you frown as you lounge on your bed, waiting for vox to get ready. “‘course you do. you’re mine, and i have to show you off.” he grinned, straightening his bowtie as the finishing touch.

“come on. everyone’s awaiting our appearance.” he said, coercing you and pulling you up from bed with both arms. “urgh, fine…” you groaned, finally getting up.

vox rested his hands on your shoulder and hip respectively, taking in the sweet sights. “christ, you look sexy as hell…” vox sighed out, biting the side of his bottom lip.

“you know… i wouldn’t mind so much if we… missed tonight, and had some fun..?” he raised an eyebrow, looking you up and down. “pssh, after i already got ready? no thanks.” you teased “maybe tonight instead if you want me so bad.” you rolled your eyes at him.

vox frowned at your rejection. “fine, that might just bite you in the ass later.” he threatened, playfully slapping your behind, and pulling you along by the waist.

— adam

adam loves anything that shows your skin. short skirts, crop tops, tight denim jeans, no sleeves. anything that brings attention to your assets, it’s all super sexy to him.

the fact that you’re confident enough in yourself to wear such tight-fitting clothes is so downright hot, it might just encourage him to do some… sinful acts, to say the least.

still, adam is quite possessive when it comes to you. as much as he loves you in revealing outfits, these are for his eyes only. no one else gets to see this but him.

that still doesn’t stop him from having you perform a little show for him. for his eyes exclusively.

“holy shit… you look so fuckin’ hot, babe!” adam let out, sucking in his breath as he pulls you into his lap. “do i really have to wear this..? it’s kind of uncomfortable, adam…” you pouted.

“oh, don’t worry, baby.” he comforted you, petting your hair gently. “soon enough you’ll be taking it off anyway.” he said with a cocky grin, proud of such a dirty line.

“pssh, don’t say something like that. that’s just inappropriate.” you rolled your eyes at him. “heyy… but, don’t you like it? you can’t deny that, can you, angel?” he grinned.

and, as you glared incredulously at him, he started moving his hands. his grabby hands began moving anywhere that was left exposed— your arms, thighs, and waist. his fingers traced every vein, curve, and muscle, giving you a sneak peak of what he could do.

“come on, babe…” he said, coercing you further. “you know i could show you a good time.” he grinned.

adam could feel you growing weak under his touch, encouraging him further. he started to leave open-mouthed kisses all over your collarbones.

“just let me show you a good time…” he said, running a hand over your thighs.

“…fine.”

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takeomisbitch · 5 months

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Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento coming over to your house (like he does everyday) to help you put your Christmas decorations up

Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento who watches you and your daughter look for the Christmas blow ups in the garage

Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento who you “force” to go on the roof and put the lights up

Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento who is a bit caution when you tell him to go up on the roof thinking you won’t be able to hold the ladder

“Sweetheart you sure you can hold this ladder up,” Nanami says as he fixes the ladder to lean on the roof lights already in his hand, “Yes I can hold it Kento I’ve done it before.” Rolling eyes at him you move to hold the ladder putting your weight on to hold it steady, “hurry Kento,” Nanami chuckles at your pushiness.

Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento who hears is daughter let out a loud gasp as she watches her daddy climb up the ladder,

“Oh no, daddy is gonna fall,” Lola says who brings her little hands to cover her face so she doesn’t have to watch, “Daddy is gonna be fine Princess,” both you and Nanami let out at the same time. Lola peaks through her fingers watching Nanami put the lights on the roof carefully so he doesn’t fall, “You sure?” Her little voice full of worry has both you and Nanami’s heart gushing, “Yes Lola he’s gonna be just fine.” Lola nods her head taking her hands off her face then running to the garage to grab more Christmas blow ups.

Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento who finishes the lights fairly quickly and gets down from the roof putting the ladder back where it belongs then he helps you and Lola with the blow ups and candy canes you found deep in the garage

Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento who ends up finishing the decoration after 2 hours

Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento who suggests that you should go get your Christmas tree now before there are no good ones left

Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento who drives to the nearest tree nursery to look for a good tree with you and Lola

Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento who has a small smile on his face as he watched both you and Lola look for the perfect tree

Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento who grabs the tree that you and Lola picked out it’s a perfect size and nice and full

Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento who stresses as he ties the tree to the roof of the car mumbling curses as the strings slip from his finger

Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento who finally gets the strings to stay put and hold the tree after many tries

Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento who opens the car door for you and Lola buckling Lola in her car seat

Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento who puts his hand on your thigh out of habit as you three drive back home

Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento who struggles even more to get the tree through the front does of your house

Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento who gets the tree through the door and now has to struggle with getting the tree in the tree stand but he can’t help but also be happy knowing that he will do this for you any damn day just to hear you and Lola giggle as he curses the tree out under his breath

Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento who gets the tree up with your help

Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento who admires the tree from the couch Lola and you tucked under his arms slowly falling asleep

Ex-Husband!Nanami Kento who smiles as he hold his two favorite girls in his arm and wouldn’t have it any other way

Ex-Husband Nanami Kento M.List

©Bella2023

#Bella writes ʕ•̫͡•ʔ #💍:ex-husband!nanami kento #nanami kento fluff #nanami imagine #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #jjk nanami #nanami j

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florencemtrash · 5 months

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The Artificer: Part III - Azriel x Reader

Warnings: More torture, violence, and death

✨Based on this ask ✨

Masterlist of Masterlists

But… memories of you rose higher than his nightmares... Memories of your gentle hands caressing every one of his scars reminding him what it meant to be gentle. Memories of your hands grasping at his back, nails scraping down and reminding him what it meant to be strong.

Azriel kept close to the walls, feeling his boots sink into the soft soil that tinged the air with dampness and the heavy weight of decomposition. It was a miracle the walls didn’t crumple in on themselves, propped up by some magic that allowed the tunnels to sink deeper and deeper beneath the hill like they were sliding down an animal’s throat.

Azriel’s knees remained loosely bent, poised to pounce, fingers drumming against the hilt of Sunseeker in one hand and Truth Teller in the other.

He hated this kind of darkness. It didn’t taste of freedom like the crisp, clean winds of the night sky did. It tasted like a torturous childhood and the film of medicine that had never been enough to heal his hands. He bristled with every flicker of torchlight that waved dangerously close to his face, casting a warmth and light that was just a little too hot and a little too harsh.

Even Eris, who’d been born in flame and heat, seemed unnerved by the slithering tunnels that burrowed beneath the hill. But maybe that’s because he was unnerved by the dark Shadowsinger that walked five paces ahead and the equally imposing Illyrian that followed five steps behind.

Eris ran through calculations in his head, sifting through the probabilities that they would all die here, and how, and in what order. His lips flattened. He didn’t like his odds. But there was still a sliver of hope that he would defy all the poor cards he’d been dealt and end up on top. Even if it took some manipulation and careful maneuvering… starting with taking advantage of the Shadowsinger’s obvious care for you.

It was clear from the tightness in the Shadowsinger’s shoulders that he was still reigning in the fury he’d displayed outside, and Eris only hoped it would be properly redirected towards a more deserving figure when the time arose.

Azriel didn’t hide the breath of relief that exited his body when the tunnels gave way to a larger cavern. Moss and ferns dripped from the ceiling, clinging on to strips of exposed stone overhead. Here he could stretch his wings and fly if necessary. But the relief of that knowledge quickly died out when the stench of your blood hit him.

Cells, dank and grimy, were carved out of the walls, wandering bodies trapped behind like offerings to an ancient god. But that wasn’t where Azriel’s focus was. No. His eyes were focused on the single cell in the center of the room with only a thick, metal grate for an opening… and the High Lord leaning over with a crooked smile on his face.

Cassian swore, whirling upon Eris like a crack of thunder ready to break. The fucker hadn’t warned them that his father would be here tonight. Maybe he hadn’t known. Cassian might have been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. But that disappeared the moment his eyes fell on the empty space between them. The Lordling had slipped away when their attention was elsewhere, hurrying down any of the half-dozen tunnels that spanned the walls.

“Fuck.” He hissed, grabbing Azriel’s arm and thanking him back before he could float too close to the edge and expose them both.

“He’s coming for me.” Your voice called out, worn and rough and deep.

I’m here! Azriel wanted to scream. He hadn’t left you. He would never leave you. Never again.

Beron circled like a vulture, ready to split you in two. Azriel’s eyes went black when Beron took out a battle cane strong enough to shatter bone, and crashed it against the gate, tongues of flame licking out and sending you cowering as you pressed yourself into the dirt, desperate to escape the unbearable heat.

Azriel sprang into action, Cassian following close behind without hesitation. Somehow, the Lord of Bloodshed had known this was how tonight would end. He whispered a quick prayer to the Mother, sent one last burning message of love to Nesta across the bond, and then slammed down his mental shields.

Shouts of alarm were quickly snuffed out as Azriel’s shadows flew out from his wings, trailing behind him and engulfing the cavern in darkness.

Cassian dove to the right, narrowly missing the onslaught of arrows that sailed past his ears, whistling as they streamed around him. They followed the curve of the wind around his strong body but never hit true.

A flash of red broke through the darkness, followed by screams of pain as Cassian threw another burst of his power and took out the snipers. The hill rocked, dirt falling down on their heads like hard rain.

You gasped, your face still half buried in the ground as the flames retreated with some mixture of shock and satisfaction. The hill rocked again and you had to roll out of the way as a chunk of the ceiling came crashing down and burst into a black cloud reeking of rot.

Beron was a beacon of light, a tornado of flames spinning around him. A casual flick of his wrist transformed the cane into a battle axe that glowed as hot as the sun, but never buckled under the heat.

Azriel’s eyes flickered with fear just once, memories of burning and pain rising like a flood in his mind. He’d never told anyone this, but his disdain for the High Lord of Autumn was only matched by his fear of him. Because who else had the power to make his worst nightmares come true? Nightmares of being doused in oil and set on fire with no amount of writhing on the floor able to save him.

But… memories of you rose higher than his nightmares. Memories of the forge that cast warmth upon your skin when you were pressed together with nothing but the tangled sheets between you two. Like rose petals preserved between the pages of a book. Memories of your gentle hands caressing every one of his scars reminding him what it meant to be gentle. Memories of your hands grasping at his back, nails scraping down and reminding him what it meant to be strong.

He roared, loud enough that the hill shook again. Blue light crackled out from his chest, filling the cloud of black shadows like lightning cutting through the dark, and slammed into Beron’s fire.

You fell back as the thin squares of sky above you filled with light and darkness, beating at each other unrelentingly as flickers of Azriel’s blue power carved out his silhouette.

A well placed shot to Beron’s chest sent him sailing across the room and crashing through the rusting metal of a cell.

Azriel dove down, grabbing hold of the grate to slow his momentum instead of using his wings. The bars were ripped out of the ground like the felling of an ancient tree.

“Az!” You shouted, scrambling to your feet.

“Y/n!” His face swam into view, eyes like perfect stones made of seaglass.

You stretched onto your toes, ignoring the pain in your back as Azriel reached down, shadows filling the empty space and linking him to you. He began to haul you up, eyes shining and desperate.

You caught the flicker of movement from Azriel’s left before he did.

“AZ LOOK OUT!”

Light exploded into being and Azriel roared with pain, burning heat flaring over his wings as Beron stalked forward with his hands outstretched.

You were dropped back to the floor, landing with a grimace on your shoulder. Shadows still clung to you, wrapping around your body and shielding you from the worst of the fall.

“Az.” You croaked. “Az.” Dust and debris coated your throat as you staggered to your feet. Corrosive bangs sounded above you, flashes of blue and orange setting the air alight with power.

Warm hands grabbed your shoulder from behind, a pale face sprinkled with freckles like copper dust coming into view. You flinched at the sight of him.

Eris.

He looked too much like his father.

But his voice was softer, kinder. That was some consolation at the very least. “We need to go. Now.”

“How did you get in here?”

A sickening crack exploded above, bursts of Cassian’s power joining the fray. It sent a rain of dirt onto both your heads. Eris smirked, pointing to the hole in the wall he’d crashed through. He’d dug the tunnel to the cell with his bare hands fifty-three years ago while Beron had been trapped Under the Mountain. He’d left many of his personal changes to Autumn in Beron’s absence, some of which had been discovered, most of which remained secret. He was glad this piece of work was still standing.

You looked back at him in surprise.

“You can thank me later by convincing your mate not to slaughter me.” He said, holding onto your arm and tugging you towards the tunnel.

You were so wired up that his words didn’t register at first, chugging through your brain at a snail’s pace.

You can thank me later by convincing your mate not to slaughter me.

You gasped, “Wait. What?”

But Eris ignored your sounds of surprise and slipped into the tunnel.

You had no choice but to follow, the sounds of battle behind you transforming into a dull bass that sent your heart pulsing. Eris’s hand turned to flame, lighting the way for you both as you steadily climbed your way up through the layers of stone and earth to freedom.

Cassian careened to the right, leathers and the skin beneath smoking. He nicked the side of a stone outcropping, talons snagging on the rock and pulling sharply so he had no choice but to crash into the wall and clatter to the floor with a groan. He rolled to the side, tucking his wing in tightly enough that the swing of a guard’s axe met limestone in a shower of gray crumbs.

Shadows coated the weapon like a pool of quicksand, swallowing it with a hiss of warning as the male jerked back. His eyes blew open, a choked gurgle escaping his throat at the blade that burst out from his chest. The body sank to the floor to reveal Eris’s towering above. He tipped his head to the side, bits of grime and blood dripping off his scarlet waves and tracing the smile lines on his face.

You stood beside him, steely hands gripping a war hammer equally doused in red. You’d snatched it off the body of a soldier while following Eris through the chaotic fray, and it was comforting to have such a familiar weight in your hands.

“Who’s the useless one now?” Eris crowed, sneering down at Cassian. But he still extended a hand, heaving a bruised and exhausted Cassian onto his feet and propping him up on his shoulder.

Prick, Cassian thought first, leaning against him with a groan, Azriel, Cassian thought secondly, Where’s Azriel?

The explosions of power had dimmed down, shadows eating away at flames like starving men upon a dead animal. But Beron remained unperturbed as he lifted the flaming axe above his shoulder and cut through the air in a burst of heat that scorched brighter than a million suns.

Cassian wrapped his wing around you, bringing you to the floor and shielding you from the worst of it. Even from this distance you saw the light growing behind your eyelids, bright and blinding.

Eris was the only one who remained standing, staring down at his father with unflinching eyes. Whatever was to come next, he’d either emerge the victor or he’d be dead. Either way, Beron wouldn’t be able to hurt him any longer. At least there was that. “Cassian,” He called out. It was the first time he’d ever used his real name, “Have you got any fight left in you?”

Cassian rose to his feet with you, grumbling about the charred smell emanating from his smoking wings. “It’s in my blood. So long as my heart’s still beating, I’ll keep on fighting.” He vowed. “To the bitter end.”

He peeled himself off your side, rolling his shoulders back like he hadn’t just held off the power of a High Lord and survived. So this was the Lord of Bloodshed everyone talked about.

You couldn’t help but stare in awe as his wings flared out in a show of power, the faint tendrils of smoke lifting off of them completing the epic picture.

“Always so dramatic.” Eris muttered, rolling his eyes. But he had to admit, if he was to die tonight, dying alongside a magical artificer and two powerful Illyrian warriors would not be such a terrible ending to what had otherwise been a tragic, forgettable existence.

You shoved Eris to the side, any awe replaced by fury as you saw Beron march towards Azriel’s dark form.

The Shadowsinger rolled onto his feet lightly, picking up a glowing sword that you recognized as Sunseeker. If you had any doubts about Azriel being your mate, they disappeared as Sunseeker and Hellraiser clashed for the first time.

You sprinted across the cavern, soon falling behind Eris and Cassian with your shorter frame but chasing after them nevertheless.

Fuckers.

You gritted your teeth, hands gripping onto the ugly war hammer so tightly you felt the metal buckle beneath your fingers with a groan of protest.

Come on, come on. You hissed to the metal, commanding it to do what you pleased with whatever meager sprinklings of power you had left. With a little encouragement and much frustration you finally felt the weapon conform to your will, twisting its shape to become denser, more aerodynamic, and easier to throw in your hands.

Perfect.

Your magic wasn’t flashy or flamboyant. You had no sparks, or rolls of thunder, or bursts of light to display like a brightly feathered bird. But you didn’t need all that to look impressive, not when your war hammer sailed through Beron’s flames where Cassian and Eris’s melted, and struck the High Lord hard enough to dislocate his jaw.

That’s my mate. Azriel thought proudly, rolling out of the way just in time so only the tips of his black hair caught on fire.

Beron at least had the humility to look surprised as he gripped his chin and forced the bone back into place with a dribble of blood.

Eris jumped on the opportunity, shooting forward in a blur of orange flame and concentrating all his power on the space right below Beron’s sternum. It wasn’t enough to knock him off his feet, but he still staggered back in Cassian’s direction.

Cassian didn’t waste his chance, taking his spare sword in hand and plunging the blade as far through Beron’s chest as he could.

Beron stilled.

And everyone held their breath.

It happened faster than an arrow shot from a longbow. Beron twisted around and grabbed Cassian’s arm, snapping it out to the side with a horrifying crack of bone you’d never be able to forget.

Cassian roared in pain, dropping to his knees. The sword fell from his hand and clattered to the ground. Or what remained of it at least. The blade was nothing more than a pathetic, molten pool dripping off the hilt.

You darted forward, slipping into the space in front of Cassian’s chest.

“Y/N!” Azriel screamed out, dashing forward as quickly as his wings and shadows could. No. No. No. No. No. He’d come all this way to find you. He couldn’t lose you like this.

Beron’s eyes flickered with something like disappointment, but there was no hesitation as Hellraiser came swinging down with a death sentence.

You called out to the metal. You are mine. You reminded him. I made you. And you cannot hurt me.

You weren’t proud of Hellraiser. He’d been forged out of desperation, not love, as you sought to please the High Lord for long enough for Azriel to come find you.

You’d told Beron the weapon would be able to withstand any amount of heat. Any amount of power. It would serve him well, even if it wasn’t bound to him as a servant to a master.

You hadn’t lied about any of that.

What you had kept a secret was that Hellraiser did have a master: You

And you’d made certain that no weapon of yours could ever be used against you.

You cannot hurt me. You said again and the air around the battle ax began to rattle.

Hellraiser blew apart in a crack of thunder and lightning, shooting through Beron’s flesh and dotting his trousers and bronzed vest with scarlet blossoms.

This time you were the one to shield Cassian, throwing your body over him as flecks of burning hot metal fell in a neat outline of your cramped silhouettes. But not a single molten drop fell on you.

Now it was Azriel’s turn. And this time, he was going to finish things once and for all.

His eyes turned into chips of ice cold steel, flat and unforgiving and malicious. He became the fabric that nightmares were carved from.

The next time Beron shot out his wave of flames, Azriel didn’t dodge them, slicing through the heat like a blade through water before bursting through on the other side with Sunseeker gripped in his hands. She sang a triumphant and vengeful ring when Azriel pushed her into the flesh beneath Beron’s rib cage with a scream of fury, plunging her up so far up through his chest and throat, that the High Lord’s tongue was severed and fell out of his gaping mouth.

But that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted more. No, he needed more. He braced one foot on Beron’s chest, unsheathing Sunseeker with a wet, thick gush of scarlet blood. Then he swung again, this time severing Beron’s head from his body. The body and the head that had once belonged to it toppled over, turning the ground below into a mud slick.

Icaryon Hill fell into silence, flames flickering out on an invisible wind that swept across all of Prythian. The kind of wind that only arrived when a new High Lord was coming into power.

Eris breathed in the cold, feeling power pour into him so rich and decadent that he groaned. Some new feeling erupted with life in his chest - something warm and safe and his - and it had nothing to do with the body of his father cooling ten feet away.

He was free.

He was finally free.

When he opened his eyes Cassian saw they burned like amber in sunlight. His scarlet hair pulsed with flames, skin shimmering like moonlight as he held his hand over Cassian’s broken arm and pushed the bone back into place without pain.

“Az!” You cried out, sprinting towards him.

Azriel’s eyes snapped up and he staggered to his feet, blood dripping down his arms and chest with the steady beat of a church bell.

His eyes turned hazel again and the bloodlust left him, replaced by a sinking feeling of dread and hope. He didn’t want you to see him like this. He didn’t want you to see him for the monster he was. It had been easy to forget what he did - what he was capable of - when he was wrapped up in your arms by the light of the forge. It was easy to forget that he didn’t deserve you when you were alone and warm and softer than any bed he’d rested on. But even so, he couldn’t stop his feet from moving forward in a stunned daze. Sunseeker slipped out of his hands without protest.

If he’d learned anything in your absence it was that he was far worse than he could have ever believed. Capable of more danger, more cruelty, more fear, more-

You sailed into his arms, slamming into his chest so hard that he rocked back on his feet, forced out of his mind and back into the present. He wound his arms around you, holding you to him. Desperate to hold onto a dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

“Y/n.” He gasped, “Y/n.” Buried beneath the blood, sweat, and dirt you were still there smelling of something warm and clean and pure.

His hands flowed over you like water. His eyes stripped you bare under their intense gaze as he searched for injuries. You grasped at his arms with-

“Your hands.” He said, the words coming out strangled and dead.

Angry marks, red and black and scabbing over, criss-crossed over your palms and over the backs of your hands. You flinched when he held them, trying to ignore the throbbing of the matching marks on your back.

“You’re here.” You whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks. You hoped you weren’t still dreaming. You’d dreamed of him so often these last few months.

“Did you think I wouldn’t come?” He asked with a voice full of pain.

You shook your head passionately, “No. No. I knew you would come.”

You dared to look to the side. The High Lord looked pale in death, that glow of power sapped from his skin.

I told you I’d have your head. You thought bitterly. You searched inwardly for any remorse and came up satisfyingly empty.

Tendrils of shadow cradled your chin, gently turning you away from the gory sight and back to Azriel’s tortured hazel eyes.

“Good.” He whispered, “Never forget that, Y/n. Never.” He held your hands in his own, gentle but fierce, touching his forehead to yours in a gesture full of soft reverence, “I’ll always come for you, Y/n. Always.”

You swallowed thickly and felt your legs begin to tremble. And then the rest of your body was shaking as well. The only thing keeping you upright was the firm press of Azriel’s body against yours.

“Take me home, Azriel,” You whispered, burying your face in his shoulder and slowly letting the horrors of what you’d endured catch up to you. “Please take me home.”

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#azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar fanfiction #acotar #shadowsinger x reader #azriel x you #azriel x mate reader #angst #violence #Azriel goes feral to protect you #like goes insane enough to try taking on a High Lord in order to protect you

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