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prythiansprincess · 2 years ago

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shut up kiss me.

pairing: theodore nott x reader

song inspiration: shut up kiss me by angel olsen.

author's note: everyone say thank you to my love @writingsbychlo for fueling my delusions. constantly spamming her with my ideas because i have no self control when it comes to this man. there’s just something about theo fighting that makes me absolutely feral but i’ll hush now before i spoil it 🤭

Theodore. Fucking. Nott.

Those three words fueled your rampage as you marched across the quidditch pitch. The audacity of that cocky, arrogant, silver tongued Slytherin knew no bounds. For years, you tolerated the pompous prick and the rivalry between you, but today he had finally gone too far.

You cleared the field in less than a minute, passing by confused players as you angrily seethed. You spotted a shock of familiar platinum blonde hair and walked right up to Draco Malfoy.

“Where the hell is he?”

He chuckled, perfectly aware of your longstanding enmity with his closest friend. “What’s he done this time?”

“Where. Is. He?” you repeated through gritted teeth. “Don’t make me ask again, Malfoy.”

The blonde paled several shades when he saw the fire burning in your gaze. “Locker rooms. I wouldn’t go in there, Y/N. They’re still shower—“ Draco sighed as you brushed past him. “Whatever, it’s your funeral.”

The locker rooms were steamy, the heat and humidity clinging to your school uniform as you stalked through the aisles. The Slytherin players startled when they spotted you amongst their midst.

“Well, well, well,” Mattheo drawled as he leaned against the wall. A towel hung dangerously low on his hips and he smirked when your eyes flickered over his body. “What do we have here? A sweet little Hufflepuff marching straight into the viper’s den.”

“Where the fuck is he, Riddle?”

Mattheo grinned lazily. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, sweetheart.”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about. Your arrogant prick of a friend who sent my fucking date to the hospital wing!”

Before you went to sleep last night, you had done so with a grin on your face after a wonderful date with Alec Stone at the Three Broomsticks, but then you arrived at breakfast this morning with no Alec in sight and the rumor mill rampant with talks of Theo pummeling some poor Ravenclaw in the courtyard.

You were going to kill him.

“Sorry, love. Doesn’t ring a bell.”

You frowned, purposely bumping against Mattheo as you walked further down the dimly lit aisle. In your trail for vengeance, you ran into a very flustered looking Enzo who yelped as he sought to cover his very naked torso.

“Y/N,” Enzo said, hastily wrapping a towel around his waist. “What are you doing in the locker rooms?”

Behind him, the sound of the shower running echoed against the marble tiles. “Is he in there?”

Berkshire’s face fell. “You heard about the fight?”

“It wasn’t a fight,” you said angrily. “He pummeled Alec so badly that he’s currently in the hospital wing with a concussion and several broken bones.”

“Just hear him out, okay?”

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. “Hear him out? Your precious Theodore beat the absolute shit out of my date and you want me to hear him out? For what? What reason could Theo possibly have for doing what he did to Alec? He couldn’t stand to see me have fun for two fucking seconds? This is low even for him and you know it, Enzo.”

“You don’t know the whole story, Y/N.”

“Well then please point me in the right direction so I can hear from the arsehole himself.”

“He’s in there,” Enzo said, pointing to the shower stalls. “But I’m warning you, Y/N. He’s in a proper foul mood.”

You huffed. “That makes two of us.”

The steam from the showers rose up like a malevolent fog, curling around your feet as you stormed through the stalls. You found him in the farthest corner, water trickling down his back as he faced the tiled wall. His body language was tense, like a serpent preparing to strike. A crimson trail swirled against the marble as blood dripped from Theo’s bruised knuckles. The sight of it incensed you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Theo whipped his head towards your direction, his dark curls plastered against his cheek. Those watercolor eyes were stormy, the blues and greens flickering with anger as he met your gaze.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said dismissively.

“Bullshit!” You countered, stepping further into the stall. The steam barely covered Theo’s naked form, but you weren’t about to let that deter you from demanding answers. “You owe me a fucking explanation.”

“For what?”

“For what?” you repeated incredulously. “You beat Alec within an inch of his life and that’s all you have to say for yourself? Honestly Theodore, have you gone absolutely mental?”

“He deserved it.”

“Why? Because he took me out on a date? Because you couldn’t stand to let me have this one thing? You absolutely loathe the idea of me being even remotely happy, don’t you?”

Theo clenched his fists as his jaw twitched in anger. “No. I loathe the idea of that miserable excuse of a human being breathing the same air as you.”

“So you beat him to a bloody pulp?”

His voice was cold and icy, cutting through you like glass. “He’s lucky I didn’t do worse.”

“What do you have against Alec?” You moved closer to Theo, closing the gap as you poked his chest. The shower streamed over the both of you, blurring your vision. The water was hot against your skin, but it paled against the heat of your own anger. “What did he ever do to you, Theo?”

Theo gripped your wrist. You were vaguely aware of his nakedness, but he made no move to hide it and you were too furious to even care. “Don’t say his name. I can’t bear to hear you say it after what he said about you this morning.”

You stepped backward, flinching. “What—what are you talking about?”

When you met his gaze, you startled. You’d never seen Theo this angry before. His eyes, which were usually dead and expressionless, burned with a cold sort of fury.

“I heard him in the courtyard, bragging to his stupid friends. I thought he was just chatting shit, so I kept back. I only came down for a smoke, but then he said your name.”

The pit in your stomach grew. “What did he say?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure you wanted to know. Not if he was this angry over it.

“The stupid fucking prick was talking about your date. The dress you wore. The smiles you gave him. The hand holding through Hogsmeade. Then one of his gormless mates asked if he got lucky.”

You froze at his words as a horrible feeling washed over you. Theo loosened his grip on your wrist, but didn’t let go.

“Do you know what that sodding idiot said? I will, soon enough. I can tell she’s raring to go.”

Tears pricked at your eyes. You felt like you were going to be violently sick.

“And his friends—those miserable fucking wankers started betting on how long it would take. Two dates. Three. A month.” Theo’s hands were shaking, violence spilling over into his veins. “That smug tosser smirked and said he could’ve had you out in the hallway. That’s how eager you were.”

“I barely even touched him!” you said angrily. “I kissed his cheek good night and that was it.”

“I know,” Theo said, his voice low and rough. “I know you. I knew he was lying, so I fucking lost it. I walked over there and just punched and punched until my knuckles were bloody and bruised and all I could see was red. I wanted to wipe that stupid fucking smirk off his mouth.”

You could picture Theo putting out his cigarette ever so calmly before walking over to throw the first punch. You’d seen him fight before. He was relentless. Where Mattheo was pure fire and rage, Theo was as cold as ice. There was nothing but lethal calm in those dead eyes as he delivered blow after blow in absolute silence.

“Eventually, Blaise and Enzo pulled me off of that prick.” He averted his gaze as if remembering the moment. “When his idiot friends finally peeled him off the floor, I spit on the fucker. I told him to consider it a warning. That I’d do a lot worse if I ever heard your name come out of his mouth again. I promised him that a concussion would be the least of his worries if he didn’t stay the fuck away from you.”

The tears fell down your cheeks despite your efforts to keep them in. The anger all but faded from Theo’s eyes as soon as he realized that you were crying. You were so, so stupid. For thinking Alec was a nice guy. For being so giddy after your date only for him to turn around and spit vile lies about you.

For crying in front of your worst enemy.

The color drained from Theo’s face as you cried into your hands. You felt him shift beside you, debating whether or not to come closer.

“Don’t,” you said through a broken sob. “Don’t come near me.”

Theo flinched at your words, looking visibly pained. His voice was soft and soothing when he spoke again. “Tell me how to fix it. Do you want to yell at me? Punch me? Go ahead, love. I can take it.” He sounded desperate. “Just please, please don’t cry.”

You hugged your arms around your waist and glared at him. “Why do you even care?”

He paused, fingers flexing at his side as he fought the urge to reach out and comfort you.

“Because I care about you!” The exasperation in his voice made your chest tighten. “I care that you let that stupid idiot take you on a date to the Three Broomsticks. I care that you fucking smiled at him when he gave you roses even though I know you prefer sunflowers. I care that you kissed him on the cheek when he dropped you off at your dorm.”

You sniffled, utterly perplexed at his words. “I don’t understand. We hate each other!”

Theo visibly softened, the tension leaving his body. “I could never hate you, Y/N.” He reached for your hand. Your first instinct was to pull away, but you let him trace soothing circles on your skin. “I may tease you. Prank you. Annoy you. But I’ve never hated you.”

Theo wiped the dried up tears from your cheeks. No fresh tears, which he took as a good sign. “I don’t even think you remember this, but I tried asking you to the Yule Ball in fourth year.”

The memory surfaced. You were reading by the Black Lake and Theo had asked if you had a date. You said no, to which he promptly asked if he could take you. You left in a huff, thinking that it was just another way to rile you up.

“I thought you were just trying to get a rise out of me. If I would’ve known…”

Theo paused. “How could you not know? How could you not see?”

The rage crashed against you like an errant wave. You didn’t know if you were angry at Theo or yourself, but you exploded either way, unable to keep your emotions under control.

“Because you never told me, you idiot!”

“I never told you, but I showed you.” He smiled crookedly. “I'm not good with words, obviously. Every time I open my mouth it’s like I say the perfect combination of words to piss you off. So I learned to tell you how I felt through my actions.”

“Haven’t you ever wondered why your favorite study spot in the library is always free? That’s because I threatened anyone who came near it. Or how you never seem to run out of quills despite the fact that you manage to break one every day from how hard you write? I always replaced them when you weren’t looking.” Your heart clenched at his words. “I even bribed first years to bring you hot chocolate when I knew you were pulling all nighters.”

You stood there, staring at him. This wasn’t the cocky, arrogant Theo that you knew. He was looking at you so earnestly that it physically hurt how endearing it all was.

“Why would you let me think that you were an inconsiderate jerk this whole time?”

Those hypnotizing eyes pierced right through you, filled with a sadness so heavy that you felt it weighing on your chest.

“Because at least you were thinking of me.”

You swayed gently. The water had long seeped into your bones, making you shiver as all of your clothes stuck to your skin like paper. You were convinced that your body had gone into shock. The range of emotions you were currently experiencing was turbulent to say the least. You stood in stunned silence, just taking it all in. Then the impact of his words hit you all at once.

Theo watched as your bottom lip trembled. Panic seized him as you began crying again, this time not bothering to hide it from him. “Fuck I’m sorry, Y/N. Please don’t cry.”

He didn’t know what to do. Should he comfort you? Should he keep his distance? Theo felt like he was doing a rather exceptional job of mucking things up.

“Why are you saying sorry?” You said between hiccups. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

Theo caressed your cheek. So gently. Like he half-expected you to recoil. That only set a fresh wave of tears to spill onto your cheeks.

“You have nothing to apologize for, love.”

“Of course I do!” you nearly wailed. “I’ve been horrible to you. I’ve thought the worst of you, but all this time you were doing all these sweet, considerate things and I never even noticed. You should’ve told me, Theo.”

“I—I didn’t think you’d ever see me that way,” Theo said softly. “It was better to have you hate me and still be part of my life than risking not having you in it at all.”

Because at least you were thinking of me.

It was the saddest thing that you’ve ever heard. For years, Theo settled for being your enemy because he’d rather have your hatred and loathing than indifference. He sustained himself on the bare minimum because he thought that was all he deserved.

“I’m sorry, Theo. I’m so so fucking sorry.”

Theo was absolutely distressed. “Fuck, look Y/N. Let me just finish up here and get my towel and when I’m dry and slightly less naked then we can talk, okay?”

You sniffled, wiping your tears away. There was no way you could wait. Not after everything Theo had just told you. Not after everything that he’s been telling you all these years. Theo had literally and figuratively laid himself bare before you. The least you could do was to even the playing field.

So you unlaced the gold and black tie around your neck. Unbuttoned your blouse and threw it somewhere behind you. Stepped out of your skirt and stared at Theo head on.

“Oh—Merlin’s beard, what in the hell are you doing, Y/N? Are you trying to send me into cardiac arrest?”

You shook your head, smiling slightly. Theo was determined to look everywhere but at your very exposed body. You were still in your bra and panties, but the black lace really didn’t leave much to the imagination. Especially when the water clung to every inch of your skin.

“You were vulnerable with me,” you said simply. “So I’m returning the favor.”

Theo felt like he was definitely headed for an early grave. He tried to think of something—anything—other than the girl he’s been head over heels for since third year standing naked in front of him.

“Theo,” you said softly. His name had never sounded half as good coming out of anyone else’s mouth. He wanted to bottle the sound. “Can I—can I hug you?”

He could’ve sworn that his heart had stopped beating. The air had all but left his lungs, deflating his entire body as though he’d fallen off his broom and plummeted through the sky at breakneck speed.

Theo didn’t recognize his own voice as he said, “Of course you can, Y/N.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before you dashed into his arms, nearly toppling him over from the force of it. You were a tiny little thing, but you were stronger than you looked. He smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes as you hugged him. For a minute you and Theo just stood there under the trickling water, holding each other as though you were the only two people alive.

If this was all the affection you were willing to give him, Theo would’ve been content to hold onto you until you grew tired of him. His slender fingers traced down your spine, drawing soothing circles against your skin as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. You felt safe. Like nothing bad could ever happen as long as you were with him.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt like this. There was just this spark between you. Perhaps that was part of the reason why you had been so angry this morning.

It hadn’t just been because Theo sent Alec to the hospital wing, which you were now thankful for after hearing all the disgusting things he said about you. It was also because you thought that he had ruined your chance of feeling that rush with someone else. The same rush you got when the two of you were arguing. The same rush that was noticeably missing when you kissed Alec last night.

Things with Theo had always been electric. You attributed it to mutual loathing, but that wasn’t the full story. Sure he made your blood boil sometimes, but he also made you feel alive. You were terrified to admit it to yourself, which is probably why you said yes to Alec in the first place.

You sighed as Theo’s fingers tangled through your hair. He gently pulled your head back and looked at you in the most heartbreaking way.

“Y/N,” he said hoarsely. Theo’s gaze dipped to your mouth as his arm snaked around your waist. “I think I might die if I go one more second without kissing you. Will you please put me out of my misery, love?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Gladly.”

Theo held his breath as you pulled him down to you, lips brushing shyly at first. Then you leaned in and kissed him. And he truly and honestly thought that he had died.

Your lips were soft against his, tasting of strawberries and mint toothpaste. He cupped the back of your head and tilted your chin to deepen the kiss. Before, Theo thought he could’ve sustained himself from a simple hug, but right now, he couldn’t even control himself as he gorged himself on your taste.

He chuckled when you tried and failed to get on your tiptoes to offset the height difference between you. Theo caressed your cheek and smiled against your mouth.

“Need some help, love?”

You nodded before pulling him back down again. This time, the tender kisses turned more heated as he locked your legs around his waist and pressed your back against the wall. You gasped as the cold tile made contact with your bare skin and Theo took the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours.

Merlin’s beard. Theo kissed with his entire body. There wasn’t an inch of you that wasn’t touching him and the skin to skin contact set your body on fire. You’d kissed other boys before, but they paled in comparison. You couldn’t get enough of Theo. You ran your fingers through his hair. Wrapped your legs more tightly around his waist. Trailed kisses along his jaw and neck and throat.

Then he fucking moaned.

It was a low, rumbling sound that sent tremors over your body and shook every fiber of your being like a devastating earthquake. You wanted to hear him make that sound over and over again.

“Y/N,” Theo said, his forehead dropping to yours. “Before I lose all sense of self, I want to—no—I need to tell you—”

“What is it, Theo?”

“If we do this, then you have to understand what it means to me,” Theo whispered. “I may be terrible with words, but it’s important for me that you hear me when I say this. I want you. Not just physically, but in every sense of the word. I wanted you in third year when you first told me off for being a dick to the first years and I want you now even though you came in here to defend a prick that definitely doesn’t deserve it.”

“What are you saying, Theo?”

“I want you to be mine, Y/N.”

You beamed. “Like, your girlfriend?”

“I don’t think girlfriend is a strong enough word to express how I feel for you, but it’s a start.” He moved the hair out of your face and cradled your cheek. “So yes, I suppose I do want you to be my girlfriend. I want to hold hands with you in the hallways. I want to look up at the stands during my games and see you cheering me on. I want to take you up to the Astronomy Tower and kiss you under the stars.”

“And you say you’re bad with words,” you teased. “I want to do all those things and more with you, Theodore Nott. Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.”

“Good, cause you’re mine.” Theo said matter-of-factly, those adorable dimples making an appearance on each cheek. “You were mine even before you knew it.”

He kissed you again, but this time it was soft and sweet and it filled your stomach with butterflies. Theo no longer felt the need to hoard as much of your affection as he could because you had just given him the ultimate reassurance that he would have plenty of you in the future.

You sighed contently against him, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. He shifted, pressing kisses against your neck. Your fingers froze when you felt him stir underneath you.

“Theo,” you said slowly, biting back a smirk. “Is that what I think it is pressing against my leg?”

He groaned. “We’re half naked, in the shower, heavily making out, and you just agreed to be my girlfriend. Of course I’m hard.”

You stifled a laugh. “Theodore Nott, is emotional intimacy turning you on?”

“Everything about you turns me on.”

“That’s helpful to know,” you said with a little smirk. “Especially when we're dueling and I’m losing.”

“Merlin’s beard. My girlfriend’s downright evil.”

You grinned so hard that your cheeks ached. Theo peppered kisses all over your face before setting you down.

“I suppose we should head to dinner soon. My teammates watched you march in here in a fit of rage. They might think you’ve murdered me.”

“There’s only one problem,” you said as you finally turned off the shower. “I’m soaking wet.”

“I bet you are, darling.”

You rolled your eyes. “From the shower, you wanker.”

He grinned and kissed the top of your head. “It’s alright. I’ve got some extra clothes in my locker.”

Ten minutes later, the two of you walked out in the quidditch pitch hand in hand. Theo’s sweater completely enveloped you and he smiled a little at the sight. You received a few interesting stares as you made your way through the castle halls, but one look from Theo and they all quickly found something else to gawk at. Having a scary boyfriend was already paying off.

On the way to dinner, you ran into Enzo. The git had the biggest smile on his face when he saw that you and Theo were holding hands. “So you heard him out after all, huh?”

“Yeah, we sorted out our differences,” you said with a smile. “Coincidentally, I gained a boyfriend out of the whole ordeal. Happy now, Berkshire?”

“Absolutely chuffed,” Enzo said with a grin. “See you lovebirds at dinner.”

Theo rolled his eyes as his friend disappeared into the Great Hall. He turned, squeezing your fingers. “I should warn you. My friends can be a bit…much.”

“Don’t worry, I think we all got fairly acquainted in the locker rooms. If they tease us, well I’ve got a perfectly scary boyfriend to fend them off.”

He chuckled. “A scary boyfriend with an even more terrifying girlfriend.”

You winked, kissing his bruised knuckles. “This school won’t know what hit them.”

“Neither did Alec,” he said with a satisfied smirk. You gave him a reprimanding glare, but it was half-hearted. You didn’t actually feel sorry for the prick. “Sorry. Too soon?”

“You know you can’t punch everyone that says anything bad about me, right?”

“Of course not. I’m perfectly capable of kicking them too.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Shut up and kiss me, Theo.”

“Yes ma'am.”

taglist: @annaisabookworm @marina468

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#double feature cause i have no self control baby #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott smut #theo nott x you #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x you #theo nott fluff #theo nott fic #theodore nott fic #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n

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bookishjules · 6 months ago

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just saw someone say max lightwood's death was unnecessary, so much so that they said it was one of the things the show got right, not killing him.. as if he wasn't created to die. as if his death didn't serve as a gut-wrenching revelation of just how fucked up sebastian is and what he's willing to do to get what he wants. as if his death didn't make everything with sebastian personal for the younger lightwoods in a way it wouldn't have otherwise been, because he may not be their brother but he is their brother's murderer. as if his death didn't leave izzy in enough raw pain and guilt that the walls around her heart flickered and weakened. as if his death didn't heighten alec's fear of losing someone enough to make him insecure and vulnerable to camille. as if his death didn't snowball into maryse and robert's divorce and the growth they both gained from that, including, might i add, an increased appreciation and respect for their children.

was max's death sad? yes. was it made more so by his innocence and youth? absolutely. but that was the point. max's death is a crucial turning point in the series and to dismiss it as unnecessary does the series and characters (and author) a huge disservice.

#not to mention dampening your reading experience #ugh #max lightwood #the shadowhunter chronicles #tsc #tmi #the mortal instruments #sebastian morgenstern #isabelle lightwood #alec lightwood #robert lightwood #maryse lightwood

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heartsongss · 3 months ago

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two. news travels

masterlist

a/n. this fic does have a male love interest btw, he's just taking a minute to pull up!! also sorry this is short it'll get longer as the plot builds I pinky promise

You’re eating lunch. You attend Gotham Prep, like Damian and Duke. Despite that, you run in entirely different circles. Damian sticks close to two people, while Duke has a larger group. You sit next to the three other demigods that call Gotham home.

Elyse Alarie, a daughter of Demeter, Alec James, a son of Hypnos, and Jamie Brooks, son of Dionysus. Mr. D and Chiron had pulled some strings (used the mist) to get you all in the same school, and it’s one of the greatest things to ever happen to you.

Jamie tears into his soggy chicken tenders, popping the pieces into his mouth as he analyzes you, “Why do you look like that?”

You narrow your (e/c) eyes at him, raising a single brow, “Like what?”

“Like you’re going to shit.”

Alec groans, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes, “Be so serious.”

You roll your eyes, taking a bite of a fry, “It’s happening next week.”

They all blink at you, Elyse saying, “What?”

You sigh, “It. Y’know, happens once a year?

Jamie gets it first, saying, “Oh. Oh! Already?”

You nod, slumping over, “We’re so cooked.”

Elyse nods, stealing a fry, “Especially considering they’re telling the Justice League.”

You freeze. Your fry flops pathetically from your hands into the ketchup, slowly drowning in the thick red condiment as you stare blankly at your friend. Elyse is blissfully unaware of how she just ruined your life, and is more concerned with the state of your french fry, pulling your tray over to her so she can fish it out with another fry.

“They’re telling the League?” You ask, eyes wide as your hands shift, clenching the table tightly.

Alec looks to you, “Yeah, did camp not tell you?”

Jamie elbows him, “Dude! Be sensitive, they don’t talk to camp much, anymore.”

Alec apologizes as you wave him off, slumping forward, “The bats are going to be involved, then…”

Elyse perks up, “Oh! I didn’t even think of that!”

“It’ll make it easier. Last month, Signal saw me stab an empousa and we made eye contact for like… three seconds before I put him to sleep,” Alec complains.

Jamie pats him on the back roughly, laughing at him.

Elyse rolls her eyes as she slides the tray back to you, and you stop it with your hand. You eat another fry as you listen to your friends talk, your brows furrowed nervously.

This is bad. The cull is bad enough, with the uncertainty of which demigods won’t sell you out. That entire weekend would be spent watching your back, hands tight on your sword until every other demigod left the city bounds. Now, though, you’re faced with the startling realization that your lives are about to collide.

Batman is a part of the Justice League. As one of the demigods participating in the cull in his damn city, he’ll have to know about you. He’ll see you. Maybe he won’t recognize you? You keep your head down at dinner, you don’t make eye contact with any of them. As long as you don’t draw their attention, you might get away with it.

You might stay out of their eyes… invisible, alone.

Invisibility is safety. If they don’t notice you, they can’t catch you. Can’t kill you. Can’t take you. Your eyes drift over to Damian, and then to Duke. You chew on your lip, a frown on your face as you watch your ‘brothers’. Just for a moment, you beg for them to look at you.

They don’t. They never fucking do.

(Damian’s eyes flicker to you, for just a moment. He knows who you are, vaguely, and for a second, he sees something on you. Something on your cheek. Duke watches you for longer, eyes squinted as he looks at you. You’re familiar. Like calls to like.)

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Every time you see them that night is spent shooting them sly, quick looks. You scan their faces for hints of knowledge, anything pointing to them knowing what you are.

It scares you. It’s one thing to be a demigod, to have divinity for a Mother. You’re intrinsically different, built in a manner that defies the human anatomy. More machination than human, you are. Your mom certainly tried to prevent that, plying you with love and care, but she died.

She died, and you spent more company with her ghost, and the flighty goddess you call Mother than your father. You have Alfred, at least. He’s willing to bandage your cuts, pressing gentle kisses to the split skin and placating you with kind words.

You love Alfred, and you know he loves you. Despite all that love, he’s your father’s, before he’s yours. He, and the children he notices, will always take priority. Besides, you’re a mature kid. You can handle it, right? You can be alone, staring at your scarred face.

You sigh to yourself. You still haven’t seen anything in their eyes, so you assume they haven’t been told yet. Yet is important, because you know it’s coming. One day, you’ll get home from school and they’ll be there, wariness in their eyes. They’ll stare you down, and you will know.

Another place where you aren’t safe. Gotham will become the wolves’ den, sharp teeth doomed to dig into your flesh, tearing your wings until you are downed and doomed for death. Left for the monsters to nip at your body or to be dragged from Gotham into a cage; golden and glittering, but still a cage. Always a cage.

You consider it, for a moment. Your family won’t kill you. They’re strict in their rules, following their morals to the grave. They won’t kill you, but they won’t keep you. They barely see you as it is. It’ll be easy for them to make you leave, and then Gotham will take you. No matter what, you will end up abandoned.

You clench your fists. In the hallway, far from the main wing, you stand still. Closing your eyes, you hear that no one’s there, not as far as you can hear. You lean against the wall, sighing deeply as you stare at the floor. You’ll be okay.

You’re (Y/N) fucking (L/N). Sure, it’s legally Wayne, but that doesn’t matter. Your life didn’t end when Silena died, or when you turned eighteen. It’s not going to end when your family finds out what you are. You’ll push through, and you’ll be better.

You have to.

#demigod!reader #platonic yandere batfam #platonic yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere dc #dividers by fairytopea #dovechild

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im-ovulating · 8 months ago

Note

Hi ! I don't know if this is how kinktober works, but could I have Felix Volturi x reader with size kink? Thank you

(A/n: Kinktober Day 10/15! I cut out some parts of the scene because I couldn't be bothered to write the entire thing; the gist of it and the part that's most important for the fic is there, so... fight me lmao)

(As stated in one of my Alec fics: Yall better not come at me with, "But vampires are cold! There's no warmth!!" Yes. Correct. To *humans*; to other vampires, they don't feel cold. If you don't believe me:

-as per Breaking Dawn, Pages 333 and 334.)

Word Count: 2,362

Summary- The aftermath of the Italy Vaycay™ in New Moon

Warnings: Size Kink, Manhandling, On the Floor, Vampire! Reader, Felix Ragdolling the Shit Out of Edward Anthony Masen Cullen, Felix and Reader spar and then fuck

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Felix Volturi x Fem! Reader: Crush (me)

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

You stand in the shadowy Volturi throne room, a sense of foreboding hanging in the air. The atmosphere is thick with tension, and the cold ornate surroundings only amplify the unease. Your gaze drifts to the other Volturi members, their eyes glinting with curiosity and anticipation at what is to become of the Cullens and their pet human.

Edward Cullen stands defiantly at the center of the room, his protective instincts palpable as he faces Aro and tries to talk their way out of this transgression. He’s here for the human, Bella, willing to risk everything. It's... odd; the way he's so ready to die for her - it's like a wolf defending the deer it caught from the rest of the pack. Absurd. You can sense the confrontation building and the tension is delicious.

Aro’s voice cuts through Edward's defense, smooth and chilling. He’s intrigued by Edward’s boldness, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. It’s a game for him, and Edward is caught in the crosshairs. As the tension builds and Edward makes a move towards Aro, the black-haired king gestures to Felix, a signal you know all too well.

Felix steps forward before Edward has even finished his first step, and you feel a thrill run through you. He’s imposing, his presence commanding the room. The way he moves - confident, almost aching for the chance to engage - draws your gaze. You can’t help but admire his strength as he sizes up Edward.

The moment feels suspended in time. It’s a clash of wills, and you can almost feel the electricity in the air. Felix’s expression shifts to one of excitement, a predatory glint in his eyes. He’s eager for the fight, and you find yourself captivated by the way he thrives on the challenge.

As the tension reaches its peak, you know a fight is imminent. The uncertainty hangs heavy in the air, but all you can focus on is Felix, ready to unleash his power. The thrill of the impending clash sends a flicker of excitement through you; it's been a while since a convicted put up a proper fight...

When Felix lunges at Edward, it’s like watching a predator spring into action. He moves with such effortless grace and strength, it’s mesmerizing.

Edward tries to evade him, but Felix is relentless. The way he easily dodges Edward’s attempts to counterattack is jaw-dropping. Each time Felix strikes, you can’t help but admire how he effortlessly overpowers Edward, showcasing a raw, commanding presence that’s impossible to ignore.

There’s something thrilling about watching Felix dominate this fight, his confidence radiating like a shield around him. The other Volturi members look on, but your focus is solely on him - his powerful movements, the way he exudes control, and the smirk that plays on his lips as he toys with Edward.

In this moment, you're captivated by Felix. He’s not just a fighter; he’s a force of nature, and you can’t help but feel drawn to his fierce energy as he easily subdues his opponent, if you can even call the Cullen that.

All too soon, the fight is over. Felix slams Edward at the kings' feet, shattering the marble steps, before yanking him up to his knees and tilting his head back. The sound of cracking stone echoes as fractures snake their way up Edward's face, splintering his otherwise perfect skin.

Just before Felix can finish him off, the human shouts out, pleading for the Cullen to be spared in exchange for herself. 'Foolish girl...' you think. Did she really think that after her boyfriend was killed, we'd let her go?

To your surprise, Aro holds up a hand, halting Felix as he glances toward the girl. "You would sacrifice your own life to save on of us?"

At the girl's small, 'Yes', Aro considers her words, the tension in the room thickening. “Your willingness to sacrifice your life for a vampire’s is… intriguing.” He leans back, eyes narrowing a bit in thought.

You glance at Felix, who still holds Edwaard firmly, his expression radiating disappointment. He's obviously not too thrilled about not being able to rip the Cullen's head off. It nearly makes you grin, Nearly.

Finally, Aro’s smile widens, and he makes a decision. “Very well. We shall let you go. It is not often we see such devotion.”

"What?!" Caius' outraged shout rings out the same time that Edward says, “You’re letting us go?”

Aro nods, ignoring his fellow king. “For now. But you must turn the human; that is our price. We will be watching... Do not test our patience. It is not without limit.��

Bella exhales in relief, and as soon as he's released, Edward flits to her side, his relief evident. Shortly after, they are dismissed, and Demetri leads them out.

After the fight you couldn't be bothered to pay much attention to the semantics. The Cullens are free to go, the human must be changed, we'll be watching, blah blah blah... No. What you're focused on is the tension set in Felix's shoulders. And the throbbing in your panties, but mostly the tension thing.

He's clearly disappointed. It's been a while since Felix has been able to fight like that - most of the vampiric law breakers the Volturi have been dealing with lately haven't put up much of a fight -, so to be able to brawl like that and be so close to killing Edward, only to be stopped last second, is most definitely irritating.

As soon as we are all dismissed, Felix leaves and heads in the direction of the room he uses to train the newborns of the lower guard. Without another thought, you quickly follow him.

The training room is dimly lit, the only light filtering in from the high windows, casting long shadows across the marble floor. It's quiet, save for the sound of your footsteps echoing off the walls. Felix doesn't acknowledge you.

"Want to spar?" You ask quietly. The glare he shoots you would make your heart skip a beat if it still beat in the first place. You've had a small (big) crush on the executioner since you joined the lower guard. By the time you proved yourself to be added into the permanent guard, the crush had grown into what you're dealing with now: the deep ache and longing to be the one he calls his, to feel his body pressed against your own - the warmth of him pressing you into the mattress as he fucks you senseless.

For a moment, he simply looks at you. You know the anger isn't directed at you, not necessarily so you simply ask again.

"It would help relieve some frustrations..."

The fight is instantaneous - in the blink of an eye, he's swinging at you. You duck, his fist just barely missing your jaw. You're both seasoned fighters, well-versed in the art of combat, and it shows. The air around you crackles with energy as you trade blows, each one stronger than the last. It's not easy to keep up with him, but one of the perks of being a former member of the lower guard is that Felix is the one that trained you. You know his tricks, but, of course, that means he also knows yours; he taught you them, after all.

Felix moves like a whirlwind, his strength and agility on full display. He's faster than you expected, his strikes landing true every time, leaving you to didge and duck out of the way. You have to stay on your toes to keep up with him, but you relish the challenge, pushing yourself harder than you ever thought possible. You keep on the defensive, letting him work the frustration out of his system.

He's not pulling his punches, but you also know that if he really wanted to, he could have torn you to pieces multiple times by now. There's a reason he is the undisputed choice for Volturi headsman.

Suddenly, you're knocked to the ground, your head cracking against the floor with a sickening echo. His knee is immediately on your chest and his hand around your throat in warning, keeping you down.

"You know what would really relieve my frustration?" He growls low, face inches from your own.

Your eyes are wide as you stare up at him, your crimson meeting his garnet. You don't bother struggling against his hold; even if you could get out, you're not sure if you would want to (you are sure- who are you kidding? You're damn-near in heaven right now). "...what?" You ask, feeling like you already know.

His lips curve into a twisted smirk, exposing fangs that are sharper than any blade. "You," he practically spits the word, making you shiver, "underneath me, feeling my weight on top of you, moaning as I fuck you." He leans down, his breath tickling your neck as he whispers in your ear. "Say you want it, Y/n."

Your throat feels dry as if you swallowed sand, but you can't deny the truth of his words. You do want it. You want him, and you've wanted him for so long. Taking a deep breath, you swallow hard and nod, your gaze never leaving his. "I want it..."

Felix's grip on your throat releases, and he shifts, so his knee is no longer digging into your sternum.

Without another word, he leans down, capturing your mouth in a deep, heated kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, demanding entry, and you eagerly comply, opening up to him. You moan into his mouth, feeling his weight settle more comfortably on top of you.

He pulls back and nips at your bottom lip, eliciting a small moan from you. Then, with sudden speed that catches you off guard, he grabs the hem of your shirt and yanks it over your head. You let out an indignant noise as he doesn't even bother unhooking your bra, electing to just tear it off of you. "You'll live," he says, pulling his own shirt off and looping an arm around your waist so your naked chest is pressed against his as he captures your lips once more.

Felix trails his fingers lightly down your abdomen, skimming over the smooth skin and making you arch your back to feel more of his touch. "You're so beautiful," he breathes, his voice rough with desire. Then, he moves to unfasten his pants, freeing his hard length from the confines of his jeans.

You shove your own down, pulling your panties off in the same motion. You've waited so long for this chance and you're not going to risk taking your time and having something interrupt...

You part your legs wider as he moves between your thighs, his hard cock pressing against your already wet folds. He groans, his lips trailing kisses down your neck and chest, stopping to suck on your nipple, causing you to gasp out in pleasure.

With one powerful thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely. You cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders as he begins to move, his thrusts rough and demanding, taking what he wants.

You love it. You love the way it makes you feel, like you belong to him. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he thrusts deeper into you. He growls, the sound vibrating through your core, sending shivers down your spine.

As Felix slams into you again and again. The sensation is overwhelming, exquisite roughness mixed with even more intense pleasure. You're lost in the moment, lost in him. You grip him tighter, meeting his thrusts with pure need.

Your cries echo off the walls as he continues to fuck you, his hips slapping against yours in a rhythm that's both primal and erotic. You can feel the tension building between you, the urgency growing with each passing second. Your shoulders dig into the marble beneath you and you can feel each thrust causing more and more hairline fractures through the stone as he all but pummels you into it.

As the pleasure builds, you can feel a coil of pressure starting deep within you, gradually intensifying with every touch. Every caress sends shivers down your spine. The tension escalates and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge. The sensations cluster in your core, pulsating and throbbing, as if your entire being is focused on this single point of pleasure. You're acutely aware that anyone could walk in, but then, the realization that everyone in the castle can hear you anyway and is most likely steering clear of this room -hall, really- pushes that thought away.

You're so close that you don't think you'd even care if someone walked in. You're all adults that know what sex is; big deal. You've finally gotten your wish of Felix fucking you, pinning you down and taking everything that you have to offer, so as far as you're concerned, everyone else can fuck off.

You whimper as Felix picks up the pace, his thrusts harder and faster than ever before and you can feel the sharp points of the cracked stone digging into your skin, crumbling to dusk against the impenetrable flesh. It feels like he's reaching impossible depths within you, rearranging you to be his perfect sheath. You can feel the coil tightening in your belly, growing more and more taut with every passing second.

Your body tingles with anticipation, knowing that this is it, your cunt clenching down on him as you inch closer and closer to release. You bite your lip, trying to hold back your moan as the pressure within you reaches its peak. Felix groans, tilting his head back in ecstasy as he feels you tighten around him.

With one final thrust, he releases himself into you, filling you completely. Your body quakes as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you.

As the aftershocks of your orgasms begin to subside, Felix slowly pulls out of you, his chest heaving with unnecessary breaths.

"Fuck, I needed that..." he groans, running a hand through his dark hair. You can only nod.

So did you.

#felix volturi x reader #felix volturi smut #felix volturi x reader smut #felix volturi #kinktober 2024

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dumbladores · 5 months ago

Text

Alec Lightwood Imagine

Alec Lightwood x fem!reader Prompt: You reeeealy like his leather pants and well, who can blame you Rating: Mature

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, the air shifts. The tension that has been simmering between you and Alec all night sharpens, heavy and inevitable. He stands just inside the doorway, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each measured breath. His dark eyes flicker over you, lingering, hungry.

The soft glow of the institute’s lights casts deep shadows across his face, accentuating every sharp angle of his jaw, the strong line of his throat, the tension in his shoulders. But it’s his body that has you transfixed—the way his black leather gear clings to him, how every single muscle is outlined beneath it, the way his belt sits low on his hips, like it was made to drive you insane.

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry, as your eyes drift lower. His leather pants, snug and unforgiving, highlight the flex of his thighs, the solid strength of him. And you can see it—the way he’s already hard beneath the material, the way the friction must be driving him crazy.

Alec shifts slightly, rolling his shoulders like he’s trying to ease some invisible tension, but the movement only makes the leather creak, and your stomach tightens.

His gaze snaps to yours, sharp and knowing. “You keep looking at me like that,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, rougher. “I won’t be able to hold back.”

A slow, wicked smile tugs at your lips. “Maybe I don’t want you to.”

That’s all it takes.

Alec closes the distance between you in an instant, his hands gripping your waist as he backs you against the wall. His body presses into yours, solid and warm, and you gasp at the sensation—the hard press of his belt, the unmistakable friction of leather against your thighs.

He groans, low and rough, his breath hot against your ear. “You feel that?” he murmurs, rocking against you slightly, just enough for the friction to spark through both of you.

A whimper escapes your lips, your fingers flying to his shoulders, gripping him hard. “Alec—”

He exhales sharply, his hands tightening on your hips. “It’s been driving me insane all night,” he admits, his voice unsteady. He rocks against you again, just enough to make you shudder. “How tight these damn pants are. How fucking hard I’ve been since you walked into that club looking like that.”

His confession sends a fresh wave of heat through you, and you press up against him, matching his movement, testing. The effect is immediate—Alec lets out a sharp breath, his head dropping against your shoulder, his body trembling slightly.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice barely more than a breath.

You smirk, sliding your hands down his chest, over the smooth, fitted fabric of his gear, before dipping lower, your fingers tracing the edge of his belt. “Bet this isn’t very comfortable,” you murmur, teasing.

Alec lets out a soft, desperate sound, his hips pressing into you involuntarily. “It’s torture,” he admits, his voice wrecked. “And you’re making it worse.”

“Am I?” You drag your fingers just under the leather of his waistband, just enough to tease, to make him twitch beneath your touch.

Alec shudders, his breath stuttering as he presses harder against you. The friction is exquisite—the leather against your bare skin, the way he moves so effortlessly, how tightly wound he already is.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he breathes, his voice shaking. “I’ve wanted this—wanted you—” He cuts himself off with a sharp inhale as you roll your hips against him, slow and deliberate.

The whimper that slips from his lips is helpless, shattered—a sound that sends heat licking through your veins and leaves you breathless. His hands fly to your thighs, gripping hard, holding you in place as he grinds against you, properly this time.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, his head tilting back slightly, his eyes dark with pure need.

The sight of him—flushed, trembling, barely holding on—sends a rush of heat through you, and you realize you don’t want to tease him anymore. You want him. All of him. Now.

Reaching for his shirt, you tug it off him in one swift movement. Alec discards it in a corner of the room, and then he’s on you again, kissing you deep, desperate, his hands shaking as he grips the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head.

You’re past the point of teasing. Past the point of restraint.

Tonight, you’re giving in.

Alec is all over you now, his hands gripping your hips, his breath coming fast and uneven against your lips. The heat between you is unbearable, thick and electric, crackling through every inch of your body. His kiss is desperate, bruising, like he’s trying to claim every single breath you take, and you let him. You want him to.

Then, without warning, his hands shift, gripping the backs of your thighs, and he heaves you up effortlessly. A surprised gasp escapes you as he lifts you off the ground, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

“Fuck—Alec,” you gasp, clinging to him.

He groans at the sound of his name, carrying you easily to the bed before dropping you onto the mattress, the weight of his body following, pinning you down. His hands press into the sheets beside your head, his hair falling into his dark, blown-out eyes as he looks at you—really looks at you—like he’s finally letting himself take in what’s happening.

And then, suddenly, he hesitates.

Not because he wants to stop—no, you can feel how much he wants this, feel it in the way he’s rock hard against you, still trapped inside those sinfully tight leather pants. But there’s something else. Something he’s just realized.

His lips quirk up slightly, amusement flickering through the haze of desire in his gaze. “Hm,” he murmurs, his voice dark, wrecked. “You liking that?”

You blink up at him, dazed. “W-what?”

Alec exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s just discovered. He shifts his hips slightly—just enough for the firm leather to press against the slick heat between your thighs.

A whimper escapes you. Loudly.

His smirk deepens, something dangerous flashing in his eyes. “Didn’t realize you like it so much,” he murmurs, his fingers trailing lower, lower until he’s slipping a hand between your thighs.

And then—he finds out exactly how much you like it.

He groans, deep and low, his fingers sliding against your soaked underwear, pressing against the fabric like he can’t quite believe what he’s feeling. “Jesus, Y/N,” he breathes, his voice almost trembling. “You’re fucking drenched.”

You moan, your thighs twitching beneath his touch, your hands flying to his shoulders. “Alec—”

He presses his fingers against you again, a slow, deliberate stroke, and you arch into his touch, gasping. “This is from me,” he mutters, his tone almost possessive. “From those damn leather pants rubbing against you. From just—” He groans softly, pressing his forehead to yours. “God, you’re killing me.”

Your breath stutters, your fingers digging into his back. “Take them off.”

Alec smirks, shaking his head. “Not yet.”

And then—he’s stripping you down instead.

His fingers hook into your jeans, dragging them down your legs agonizingly slow, like he wants to savour every second, every inch of skin he exposes. His breath stutters as he peels them away, leaving you in nothing but your underwear, bare and completely exposed beneath him.

Alec sits back slightly, his gaze raking over you, drinking you in like he’s starving. “Fuck,” he mutters, his voice hoarse. “Look at you.”

You reach for him, tugging him back down, and he groans against your mouth as your bodies collide—his leather-covered thighs slotting perfectly between yours, his hips pressing down, grinding against you.

The friction is unbearable. The leather is smooth and hot against your bare skin, so different from anything you’ve ever felt before, and Alec feels it too.

He grinds down again, his hips rolling in slow, controlled movements, and his breath catches on a sharp inhale.

“F-fuck—” His voice is wrecked, shaking with restraint, and his head drops against your shoulder as he ruts against you.

You moan at the pressure, your nails digging into his back, and Alec shudders, his entire body trembling as he rocks against you again and again.

“You’re—” He inhales sharply, his fingers digging into your hips. “Jesus, I can’t—”

His movements get rougher, less controlled, his hips rolling with more urgency, more desperation. The leather creaks with every movement, the friction so intense it’s driving both of you to the edge.

“Alec,” you whimper, tilting your head back.

That’s all it takes.

He lets out a sharp, devastating moan, his entire body tensing above you, and then—he’s completely falling apart.

His breath catches, his jaw clenches, and then he groans—low and wrecked—as he helplessly spills into his pants. His hips jerk one last time against you before he goes still.

His breath is hot against your neck, his body trembling, his hands gripping you so tightly like he’s afraid to let go.

For a moment, neither of you move.

Then, after a long, shaky breath, Alec lets out a soft, breathless laugh, burying his face in your neck.

“Oh my God,” he mutters, voice still thick with pleasure, his entire body still shuddering with aftershocks.

You laugh softly, running your fingers through his hair. “That good?”

Alec groans against your skin, shaking his head. “You have no idea.”

Then, after a beat, he lifts his head, his dark eyes meeting yours, a slow smirk creeping onto his lips.

“But don’t think for a second,” he murmurs, trailing his fingers down your side, “that we’re anywhere near done.”

#Alec Lightwood #alec lightwood x oc #alec lightwood leather #alec lightwood imagine #alec lightwood fanfic #alec lightwood x fem!reader #alec lightwood x reader

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asgard23 · 2 months ago

Text

Yandere Cheater x Reader Part 2

Warning: 18+ noncon, cheating, language

Summary: Alec's POV

*Sooo I tried delving into Alec's mind, describing his turmoil and regret. Let me know your thoughts!*

Part 3?

Part 1, Part 3

Thank you, and please don’t forget to reblog<3

Alec’s POV

The lukewarm water of the shower did little to wash away the sticky feeling of Ada’s skin or the heavier weight of his guilt. Alec leaned his forehead against the cool tile, the thud echoing slightly in the small bathroom of his apartment. It had barely been an hour since he’d stumbled through his front door, the city noise still buzzing in his ears, the phantom taste of cheap alcohol and Ada’s artificial perfume clinging to him.

He’d left the club, left Ada in that dingy backroom of the party after getting exactly what she wanted, and hailed a cab due to his tipsy state, the whole ride home, in fact the moment he was done hooking up with Ada, it was almost like a pit of contagious guilt formed in his belly and it would not leave. He wanted to see Y/N. He needed to talk to her, to hold her, to somehow erase the last few hours. The thought giving him lingering anxiety. How could he erase it? He’d done it. He’d betrayed the one person who mattered, the beautiful woman, who had given him everything but her body.

He turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, the movement slow and heavy. It was as if at any moment, any move could be an admission to his guilt. His phone buzzed on the counter – a notification.

The name on the screen was Y/N. His heart leaped. Was she already done helping with Tia?

He opened the message.

"We're over. Never contact me again."

His blood turned to ice. The towel slipped from his hand, pooling on the floor. He stared at the words, uncomprehending. Over? Never? Did she already know?

Then he saw the attachment. A video file. Hesitantly, hands shaking, he tapped it.

His breath hitched. It was him. And her. In that God forsaken room where he committed his ultimate sin. The back room at the club. Her eyes half-closed, her lips… God, he couldn’t watch. Not really. He scrolled forward, forcing his gaze onto the flickering, low-light footage. The raw, ugly reality of his betrayal played out on the small screen. He almost dropped the phone, bile rising in his throat. He was a monster. He’d thrown away everything for… for that. For Ada. A name that tasted sour. He felt a fresh wave of disgust, not just at himself, but at her. He forced himself to watch the end of the video.

And then he saw it. Ada’s face, tilted slightly towards the camera, a slow, deliberate smirk stretching across her lips just as the video cut off.

That bitch.

He knew he would have to tell Y/N eventually. The guilt would have eaten him alive. But this? This was cruel. This was orchestrated. This was designed to inflict maximum pain. Pain to Y/N.

Y/N. His Y/N. Beautiful, radiant, with eyes like warm (E/C) that saw right through him, yet loved him anyway. She wanted to wait until marriage to have sex. He’d respected that. Truly. Years of laughing conversations, shared dreams under starry skies, quiet nights curled up on the sofa, passionate kisses that never went too far, a deep, soul-binding connection that felt stronger, more real, than anything he’d ever known. Besides one stupid, meaningless fling a year before they were even official, he had committed himself completely to her. He would wait. He would.….Until Ada.

Ada was just… there. Convenient. Willing. A fleeting moment of weakness, a void he’d foolishly tried to fill with something meaningless, something cheap, when his heart was screaming for the profound, patient love of Y/N. Ada wasn't even a person to him in that moment. He’d been weak. He’d been horny. She was just a hole to be filled in a moment of weakness. She was nobody. Nothing. Compared to Y/N, she was less than dust.Absolutely nothing. He needed Y/N to know that. He needed her to understand. But she wouldn’t let him in. A mistake he would regret for a lifetime.

He needed to talk to Y/N. Right now. Explain. Beg. Anything.

He stabbed the call button on his phone, dialling Y/N’s number. It rang once. Twice. Then, an automated voice: "Sorry, this number is not available."

His gut plummeted. Not available? Did she... did she block him? On his number?

He went to his contacts, frantic. Text message.

He typed furiously: Y/N please, we need to talk, I can explain it wasn't what it looked like, I was drunk. Please, baby, don't do this.

He hit send. The message bubble stayed green. No, worse, it didn't even attempt to send. It just failed. She had blocked his number from texting, too.

Email. He rushed to his laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard. Subject: PLEASE READ THIS. He poured his heart out – the regret and the desperate plea for understanding. He clicked send. An immediate bounce-back notification flashed on the screen. Invalid recipient. She had blocked his email address.

Instagram. Facebook. Twitter. Every single platform they used to communicate, to share their lives, to send silly memes and late-night 'I love you's. He checked them all. His messages bounced back. Their shared photos were suddenly inaccessible. He was walled off. Completely cut off.

Panic set in, it was like a sharp-edged sword was slowly piercing his heart. She wasn’t just angry. She was gone. She wouldn’t give him a chance to explain, no matter how sorry the excuse.

The next two months were agonizing, filled with futile attempts. He drove to her apartment building every single day, parking down the street, just hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Sometimes he would find himself just standing right at her apartment door like a stalker at night when others were rarely out. He left bouquets of her favourite flowers on her doorstep, tucked behind a pot so they wouldn’t be immediately visible from the street.

They were always still there the next day, wilted and ignored. He left carefully chosen, expensive gifts the first edition of a book she’d been looking for, a vintage necklace she’d admired in a shop window, tickets to a concert she wanted to see. They vanished from the doorstep, he never knew if she took them. Maybe the building manager, maybe a neighbour. He never saw her acknowledge them.

Then there was the incident with her car. He saw the cracked windshield one morning when he was parked illegally across the street. His heart ached for her. He knew her work schedule, waited until she left for the day, and called a mobile repair service. He paid double to get it replaced on the spot, leaving his number with the technician just in case, though he knew it was useless. It was something, anything, he could do for her. He never got a thank you. He never expected one, not anymore.

The silence. That was the worst. Her anger, her pain, he could have handled that. He deserved it. He was ready for the shouting, the tears, the difficult conversations. But this absolute, complete radio silence was a punishment more severe than anything he could have imagined. It was as if he had ceased to exist in her world. He missed her like air, like a vital organ suddenly removed. The easy laughter they shared, the comfort of her presence, the way her (E/C) eyes would crinkle at the corners when she smiled, the feeling of her hand in his – it was all gone.

He started drinking more. Sleeping less. He looked in the mirror and barely recognized the gaunt, haunted man staring back. The chiselled abs felt like a cruel joke when his insides were rotting with guilt. People at the gym asked if he was cutting weight too aggressively. He just shrugged. He was cutting weight from his soul.

He eagerly paced throughout his apartment, where every morning, the first thing he felt was the absence of her beside him. Every night, the last thing he saw was her beautiful face. All he saw were shadows of Y/N, like a ghost of the past. He wandered through his apartment, running a hand over the smooth, cool surface of the kitchen counter where she would steal his slices of pizza before playfully running off to be chased.

He ended up in the bedroom, her room, their room, now just his room again. It felt sterile, too big, too quiet. His gaze fell on the dresser, specifically the small, carved wooden box she kept her hair ties and small trinkets in. He avoided looking at it, usually, too painful a reminder. But the craving of having some semblance of her within his palms pushed him towards it.

He opened the top drawer. It was mostly his stuff – t-shirts, athletic socks, gym shorts. But nestled in the back, half-hidden beneath a pile of folded shirts, was something small, soft, and unmistakably hers. A pair of her panties he bought for her. Silky, black, with a delicate lace trim. She never came to get any of her stuff, which he both hated and loved. At least he had mementos.

His breath hitched. He picked them up, holding the material gently between his fingers. They were cool to the touch, but the mere sight of them ignited his arousal. He lost count of how many times he had done this before. Jacked off to her things. It was almost a ritual, really, especially when they were together. Sometimes, the intensity of his attraction to her, the sheer force of his desire, was overwhelming. A kiss that teetered on the edge of dangerous territory? He’d excuse himself to the bathroom, his body humming with need, needing a quick, release before he could face her again without completely losing control.

A simple hug that lingered maybe a second too long? Well, he’d have to make an excuse to leave the room, find a moment alone to calm the frantic beat of his pulse, the sudden tightness in his groin.

A long cuddle session on the sofa as they watched a movie, her head on his chest, her leg thrown casually over his? He’d felt himself hardening, aching with it, and had several tissues destroyed and filled with his cum in the bathroom later, the temptation almost becoming too much to bear while lying so close to her, wanting her fiercely but not wanting to rush or pressure her.

He brought them closer, burying his face in the soft fabric. He inhaled deeply, trying to pull her essence into his lungs, trying to forget the silence, the distance between them. The scent was intoxicating.

He imagined the way her skin would feel under his hands, smooth and warm. Her curves, the gentle swell of her hips. He imagined the way her eyes would be fucked out as he had his way with her, the soft sounds she could make when he touched her just right. He imagined what it would feel like peeling away these very panties as he undressed her.

A groan escaped his lips, ragged and desperate. The physical ache was almost unbearable.

His erection was hard and throbbing. He looked down at the panties in his hand,one of the only connections he seemed to have left to her physical presence. He took them to the bed. Falling onto the mattress, he pulled the soft fabric over his face again, inhaling deeply again. He pulled the panties away from his face, his gaze fixed on the lace trim. He fumbled with his belt buckle, his hands trembling. He kicked off his jeans and boxers, his erection springing free, hard and needy.

He positioned her panties just above his groin, pulling the fabric taut. He began to stroke himself, slowly at first, his eyes still closed, conjuring her image behind his eyelids. He imagined her hand replacing his, her soft touch.

He moved faster, his breathing becoming ragged, punctuated by low groans. He slid the smooth fabric of the panties up and down the shaft of his cock, the sensation driving him wild. He ran the lace trim over the sensitive tip.

"Y/N… God, Y/N…" he desperately groaned.

He gripped the panties tighter, bunching the soft material in his fist as he stroked himself harder, faster. The image of finally being able to see her naked plastered in his brain, he pictured her writhing beneath him, her fingers digging into his back, her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. He pictured her flushed and unfocused with climax, just for him. Just his eyes.

He pushed the fabric down, pulling it back up, the motion rhythmic and frantic. His hips began to buck slightly off the mattress. The tension coiled tighter and tighter in his gut. He wanted to scream her name, but only a choked sob escaped.

"Y/N!" he gasped, his voice rough with emotion, as the wave hit him.

He came hard, a violent, shuddering release that shook his entire body. His vision blurred, and he collapsed back onto the mattress, his arm falling away, the black lace panties slipping from his grasp to land on the sheets beside him.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He was slowly going crazy. He felt the edges of his sanity fraying like worn rope. More insane without her. Even breathing was a struggle. He replayed the night in his head endlessly. How could he? How could he have been so weak? Four years of knowing her . Two years of dating, of cherishing her patience, of building a foundation of trust and respect… all shattered in less than an hour with Ada. A willing slut.

He had to get his Y/N back; there was no other option. But first, he had to deal with Ada.

For weeks, grief consumed him. But slowly, a bitter anger began to fester. Not just at himself, but at Ada. That smirk. That cold, calculated move. He’d been so focused on Y/N, on his own despair, that Ada had almost been forgotten. Almost. Then he heard things. Rumors filtering. Not only had Ada sent the video to Y/N, but she was bragging. Bragging that she had finally slept with Alec, the guy who had been unavailable, tied down by "miss perfect saint." The rage that boiled inside him was immediately blinding. Irrate didn't begin to cover it.

That was the turning point. Grief gave way to a stone-hard resolve, it scared him, honestly but….. She needed to pay.

He decided to text Ada, a lie that repulsed him, but it was worth it. A lure. He acted casual, like the encounter hadn't been life-altering, hinting at a repeat. Pretending he was still interested.

Alec: Hey. Thinking about the other night.

Ada: 😘 Oh really? 😉

Alec: Yeah. U free sometime soon?

Ada: Always for you, handsome. My place? Address is [Ada's Address]. Come by tonight?

A foolish mistake. She hadn't thought twice, hadn't suspected anything. Just the eager, self-satisfied response of someone who thought they held the upper hand. "What a foolish mistake," Alec thought, the engine of his car rumbling as he typed the address into his GPS. He didn't even bother changing out of the expensive suit he'd worn to a useless meeting. He drove. Fast.

Ada's POV

Ada preened in front of her mirror, a wicked grin twisting her lips. Alec. Finally within reach. After years of witnessing him practically worship Y/N, the opportune moment had arrived. And she'd seized it with both hands. Sending the video? A stroke of genius, even if she did say so herself. A blow to shatter their perfect little world.

She and Y/N went way back, to high school. Y/N probably didn't even remember, but Ada did. She'd watched, seething, as pretty little Y/N had everything handed to her on a silver platter. And for what? Her looks?Her naive, holier-than-thou virginity? It was pathetic. It was infuriating. And it was why Ada had decided to embrace the opposite. By owning her sexuality, by becoming loose, she discovered a power. Men’s attention. That was always her trump card. She knew how to use it. Pleasuring them, manipulating them. The thought of "miss perfect saint" being dragged down, humiliated, was almost more satisfying than actually sleeping with Alec.

She heard Y/N had gone radio silent, a ghost in Alec's digital life. Blocked everywhere. Good. Let him writhe in misery. Let him realize he had been blinded by some ridiculous fantasy. Maybe now, just maybe, he'd see her. See the real woman, the one who knew how to give him what he really wanted.

She tugged at the hem of her crimson dress, too tight, too short, practically screaming for attention. Perfect. Alec liked looking, she knew it. The text he sent, asking to come over tonight, had been a sweet surprise. She'd been worried he'd be too busy drowning in self-pity, but apparently her "head" was much more of a pressing need for him. Men were predictable, she thought. Easily led by their dicks, and she was a goddamn expert at guiding them.

The doorbell buzzed, a sharp, impatient sound. A little rougher than she'd expected. She smoothed her dress one last time, plastering on her most seductive smile.

Alec stood on her doorstep, but something was off. The usual effortless charm, the easygoing grin, were gone. His green eyes were hard, almost icy. The red hair still caught the light, making him devastatingly handsome, but...there was a tension in his jaw.

"Alec," she purred, leaning against the doorframe. "To what do I owe this unexpected, but welcome pleasure? Did I make you wait too long ?"

He stepped past her without a word, ignoring her blatant flirtation. His gaze was unsettling. He wasn't looking at her body; he was looking through her, like he was searching for something she was desperately trying to hide.

"So," she said, pushing the door closed, the click loud at the sudden, heavy silence. She couldn't resist the urge to poke the bear, to see the reaction on his face. "Did Miss Perfect Saint finally dump you?"

His jaw clenched, a flicker of rage igniting in his eyes.

Alec's POV

Ada's smug question hit him like a sucker punch, but instead of reacting, instead of letting her see the pain he felt, he slammed down a mental barrier. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction. Not yet.

He forced a smile, a cold, brittle thing that didn't reach his eyes. "Something like that," he said, his voice a low rumble. He walked further into her apartment, his eyes scanning the cheap decor with deliberate disinterest. "Look, about that night..."

Ada’s face lit up, misinterpreting his casual tone. "Oh, yeah? Good. I was hoping for a repeat performance. I know you enjoyed it." She sashayed towards him, her hand reaching out to touch his arm.

He sidestepped her smoothly, evading her touch like a viper. "Actually," he said, keeping his voice deceptively calm, "I'm trying to understand... why? Why did you do this? Sending the video? She…she blocked me everywhere." He fixed her with a piercing stare. "What did you say to her? Or show her, besides the obvious?"

Ada cut him off, a cruel smile twisting her lips. "Oh, I didn’t have to say a word, handsome. The video spoke volumes." She laughed, a sharp, brittle sound that grated on his nerves. "Letting her see what she was missing. Or rather, what she was foolishly denying herself."

Alec clenched his fists, trying to keep his anger in check. "Why record it, Ada? And why send it to her, though? he said, he was in genuine disbelief.

Ada shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but her eyes glittered with malice. "Why not? She needed a reality check. Always acting so high and mighty, 'I'm waiting for marriage,' bullshit. Like sex is some kind of sacred gift only she can bestow? Please. It's just…sex. And you're hot. I wanted you. Simple."

"But sending the video..." Alec felt like a broken record, his mind racing. "Did you want to hurt her? Or just show off?"

Ada dropped the pretense of casualness. Her face contorted into a sneer, revealing the ugly truth beneath the surface. "And if I did? She deserved it." Her voice dripped with venom. "Miss Pretty. Oh, I'm so beautiful. I'm so pure. What a joke. She gets everything handed to her. The looks, the smarts, and you, Alec. You were untouchable because of her." She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "She made me sick. Always looking down her nose. Always perfect. Well, guess what? Not so perfect now, is she?" She laughed again, a triumphant, ugly sound.

Alec was gobsmacked and she was not done.

"Knowing you were inside me while she was off playing the virtuous maiden…" Ada paused, savoring her words. "Best feeling ever. And seeing her cut you off? Even better. Now you know she's not so saintly after all. She's petty and unforgiving."

Alec listened, his blood turning to ice, not from fear, but from the sheer depth of her hateful jealousy. It wasn't just about him. It was about Y/N. The full scope of her maliciousness settled over him, hardening his heart. He had suspected jealousy, but this…this was a festering wound, a consuming obsession that had driven her to this. The sheer, unadulterated spite was breathtaking in the most horrible way.

"You sent it to other people, too, didn't you?" Alec’s voice was flat, devoid of all emotion.

Ada faltered for a second, then puffed up, her eyes flashing with defiance. "Sure. Why not? Let everyone know I finally got you. Proves how much of a downgrade Y/N is to me."

That was the final straw. He had come here prepared to confront her, maybe yell. But hearing her confess her deep-seated hatred for Y/N, hearing her brag about trying to ruin them both, hearing her dismiss his precious Y/N and her feelings with such callous contempt…something snapped within him. All he felt toward Ada was a deep sense of revulsion.

He had money. A lot of money. He had connections. He had power that Ada couldn't possibly comprehend, power he usually kept hidden, preferring a low profile. But Ada had unleashed a monster. She had attacked the one sanctuary in his life, the one person he cherished above all else. She thought she could play games, ruin lives.

Not with him. Not when it came to Y/N.

He looked at Ada, her triumphant smirk fixed on her face, waiting for him to praise her, to fall into her trap. He felt nothing but profound disgust. She wasn't worth yelling at. She wasn't worth touching. She was a problem to be solved, a contaminant to be removed.

"Ada," he said, his voice still quiet, unnervingly calm. "You have no idea who you just messed with." before leaving her apartment.

He didn't physically harm her. Not in the way she might have expected. That would have been too messy, too crude. Alec didn't leave fingerprints. He used his power.

He spent the next forty-eight hours making calls. Cold, precise calls to people in the right places. He leveraged favors, opened wallets, pulled strings that few people even knew existed. Ada had a fledgling career in a certain industry; Alec ensured every door was slammed shut, every potential employer received anonymously sourced, utterly damning information. She had friends in certain circles; Alec made sure her name became poison. He bought up her outstanding debts at a premium and called them in immediately, relentlessly.

He didn't threaten her directly after that initial conversation; he didn't need to. The consequences he unleashed were far more terrifying – a systematic dismantling of her life. Her apartment lease was suddenly terminated with nowhere else to go. Her car was repossessed. Bank accounts flagged and investigated for nebulous 'irregularities'. Every direction she turned, a wall went up, built with Alec's money and influence.

He made sure she became radioactive. Unemployable. Unwelcome. Her phone stopped ringing with anything but collection agencies and angry former contacts. The brag she sent out came back to haunt her as people distanced themselves from the toxicity he had manufactured around her. He didn't physically force her out of town, but within a week, the city she had been trying to thrive in became a hostile, impossible place for her to exist.

He heard through one of his contacts that she'd been seen heading towards the bus station, bags in hand, looking utterly broken and alone. Ada had disappeared from his world, not with an obnoxious bang, but as an irritating flea that was properly exterminated.

It was over. Ada was gone. Her karma served.

But the triumph was hollow. Empty. Dealing with Ada had been a distraction, a temporary outlet from the searing pain in his soul. It hadn't healed the wound Y/N had left. It hadn't brought her back……. But then his pocket vibrated, he frowned before fishing it out of his pocket.

Don B. : We found her boss she's at The Inferno.

His mood quickly switched to hopeful, You were great at eluding him, so he enlisted help.

………..

Don B. : But she’s with a man….

His breath hitched, and he thought he was beyond rage when it came to dealing Ada.

But no….

He was positively livid. With a man?

Alec : Good work, be there in 10

#tw.cheating #yandere cheater #reader insert #yandere #tw.yandere #tw.noncon #caught cheating #tw cheating #angst #x reader #fem reader #female reader

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alesardesign · 1 month ago

Text

The air was thick with warmth and the scent of something floral—jasmine, maybe. Magnus had said this place was “an absolute treasure, completely off the grid, and most importantly, private.” Alec wasn’t sure how he’d found it, but then again, Magnus Bane had a way of knowing things no one else did.

A shallow pool carved into natural stone reflected the flickering lanterns above. The water was warm, nearly hot, and Alec let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as he sank in up to his chest. Steam curled around them, softening the edges of everything, turning the jungle around them into a blurred painting of green and gold.

Magnus was already half-submerged across from him, bare-chested, adorned in gold jewelry that somehow didn’t seem to tarnish despite the water. He looked like he belonged there, like the world had built this entire scene just to frame him.

Alec felt like he didn’t.

He shifted slightly, water rippling around him, acutely aware of the way his black swim briefs clung to his skin. It wasn’t the exposure that unsettled him—it was the intimacy. The vulnerability. They hadn’t gotten… there, yet. Not entirely. And Alec was still getting used to the way Magnus looked at him, like he was worth seeing.

-Alesar Design

Hi! I imagined this drawing as it was set during their vacation after city of glass. Alec still clumsy and scared of what could be, Magnus already head over hills for him. I love to draw the contrast between their skin colors❤️

I hope you enjoy

#shadowhunters #cassandra clare #malec #tmi #alec lightwood #malec book #comic art #isabelle lightwood #tsc #magnus bane #malec fanart #tec #the eldest curses

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alexanderlightweight · 2 months ago

Note

Wednesdays are quickly becoming my favorite day of the week because of you!

I would love to request an Outside POV in the universe of your choice- specifically Alec's Shadowhunters observing their BAMF Commander be utterly delighted to be claimed by Magnus in whatever manner you choose. (Purely happy reactions only por favor, no shame/disdain.)

No preference as to nsfw/sfw. Hope you are having a great week!

this is Mirai being utterly delighted she's also just utterly competent and takes care of things even as shes clapping internally.

i hope you enjoy this btw, this is outside pov and my week is getting better so thank you <3 I hope you're having a good week too!

this is the first time Magnus visits Alec in the Institute in this verse btw. they're not yet dating. Magnus just knows what he wants and Alec is like 'yes. please and thank you. everyone else fuck off'.

this is in feral sweetness, like honeycomb and it's been a while since i've written in that verse so here is the first part and this is the part shortly after this piece i'm posting. though it was written first and this is part like three weeks after they start dating. because to be clear, Magnus and Alec aren't officially dating yet in this bit. they're just circling each other like buzzards over a carcass right now.... in a romantic way I swear.

<3 lumine

feral sweetness, like honeycomb

Mirai watches Alec grin at a fire message and sighs, mentally readjusting her night.

That kind of a grin never means anything but trouble and Mirai has a feeling said trouble will be coming in hot.

It turns out to be more true than she realizes when several hours later, Magnus Bane walks into the Institute. Still sparking hellfire from whatever battle he’s fresh off of and looking just as deadly as he did three days ago.

The alarms stay silent and Mirai pats herself on the back at foreseeing and getting ahead of this problem. Especially because Bane is so focused on Alec that she really doubts the sirens would do anything but annoy him.

Alec knows he’s there, but he’s also in the middle of explaining a very intricate protocol and so all he does is flicker his hand towards Bane. What no one but Mirai expects is that Bane will take that as the permission it is and just step into Alec’s space. He claims it like it belongs to him. As if the air touching Alec is only there because he allows it and now that he’s here, it has no right to touch him with Bane close enough to do so.

Alec’s still talking, one hand pointing to the diagram on the screen and the other just petting over the arm wrapped around his waist. Bane is holding him like he’s a toy and Alec just continues on, either doing a good job at pretending or truly ignorant to the fact that his students aren’t retaining a single thing he’s saying.

Mirai is pleased though, because with Bane here it will deter any of the new recruits from harboring thoughts above their station. Like the possibility that they can seduce Alec, which never goes well for them or their spines.

Bane’s claim will deter them, because no one wants to mess with a warlock that is this terrifyingly powerful. Furthermore, no one is going to risk upsetting Alec, when Bane puts a smile as soft as silk and far more delicate on Alec’s face.

As far as Mirai knows, this is still only the second time they've met in person and yet Alec is acting like Bane is the air that keeps his lungs working.

Kaleb mutters next to her and marks something down on his tablet.

“I’m going to need to get his biometrics and scan him into the system, aren’t I? I heard how Alec reacted at the battle but this...” Kaleb trails off and goes back to watching the two of them.

It’s less of a burden and more of a complication, as Mirai is aware of how tricky and fiddly the system is. Especially when you bring magic into the equation, it's still better to deal with it quickly than let it become a problem.

“Think this means Alec will finally take his mandatory time off?” Kaleb asks and Mirai thinks that maybe, it actually will end up happening. Despite the fact that it hasn’t happened in the last three years.

“I think Alec won’t have a choice in taking time off.” Mirai hides a smirk and watches how Alec has finally either finished his lecture or finally given up. Considering that her Commander is currently talking to Bane in a position that is far closer and more intimate than mere conversation requires, Mirai figures he just got bored.

Alec is still in Bane’s arms but they’re chest to chest now and Alec is laughing quietly at whatever Bane's saying, his own arms equally tangled around the warlock.

Mirai doesn’t think she’s seen so many positive emotions on Alec’s face in such a short amount of time before and it’s with resolve that she turns to Kaleb.

“I’ll send a fire message to Bane later. He’s been receptive to messages from us thanks to Alec. Alec can just add him to the system personally and do the scans necessary in private if we set it up correctly. I think they’ll both thank us and there’s no need for you to risk yourself.” Mirai really doubts that Bane will want any shadowhunter besides Alec in his personal space and there’s no reason Alec can’t do it himself, even if it’s not his usual job.

Mirai will take on whatever work gets shoved to the side from the meeting and Kaleb and Andrew can pick up whatever slack she creates. It’s the best way to keep this moving forward. Not a single shadowhunter under Alec’s command who was on the battlefield when Alec and Magnus met disagree either, that prioritizing Alec’s new relationship is necessary.

For the good of the Institute.

AN:

Alec's entire chain of command is like: ... he can relax the commander?? he needs to stay. forever.

#lumine writes #writing wednesdays #writing wednesday #feral sweetness like honeycomb #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #Mirai Lakecastle

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redheadspark · 1 year ago

Text

This Little Life

Summary - You are settling into your new life as a new mother to Alec, and Azriel helps you along the way

Warnings - some angst but mostly fluff

“Ah, let’s take a look at these wings, shall we?”

You and Azriel watched Madja examine your 2-month-old son, who was wiggling in her hold as she chuckled and looked at the small pair of bat wings against his backside. He was too occupied with the small toy he was gumming in his mouth to feel Madja run her fingers along the delicate wings for a reflex test. Although you knew he was healthy, you were still on edge with him as Azriel's eyes were trained on his son at every moment.

The first two months with Alec in your life were filled with bliss and milestones. You never knew you could be this happy, not until Alec came into your life and turned it upside down in the best way. He was an easy babe to handle, from nursing to sleeping Alec never once gave you trouble. He adored being held by either you or Azriel, finding peace in the arms of his parents when he was fussy or when he couldn’t sleep. Especially with his father, who would always rock him to sleep when he could. Alec was the blessing you both needed, and you both cherished every single moment you had with him.

But you still had moments of not doing a good enough job, which perhaps was a normal feeling for new mothers to endure. No matter that Alec was an easy baby to care for, that he lit up your day with his smile or his bright eyes. Those small flickers of doubt crept in when you eat expected it, nestled in the back of your mind to take over for a few solid moments. Wondering if he was eating or sleeping enough, pondering if you were holding him to touch or not enough.

Azriel, sensing it and feeling it through the bond, would pull you out of the darkness with a pull of his hands and a hush of his voice. He saw it in your eyes as you were zoned out for a long moment, reassuring you with his words and in his gentle touches. You loved him for that, knowing that your mate was devoted to you and your well-being. Especially since It involved you being the best mother to his son.

“Those doubts in your mind are lies, my love,” he hummed against your forehead as you cried into his chest one night, your son sleeping in his bassinet not too far away and you were telling Azriel all that was festering in your mind. He knew you never had to say it or tell him, he felt it through the bond and how you were feeling lower than low. Yet Azriel simply held you, his embrace was both possessive and gentle while you were crying and molding yourself against him.

“You are an exceptional mother, our son is lucky to have you as his mom, and I am lucky to have you as my mate and share our son with you. Alec knows you would move the moon for him, as do I,” he said into your skin like a seal as you were clinging onto him, “Lean on me when it’s heavy and I will carry you, tell me when those lies come back again and I will snuff them out with my shadows. I will always, always, keep you on your feet and bring you happiness and love, always,”

Since then, Azriel always kept an extra eye on you and made sure you felt extra loved and adored. Not that he didn’t do that before, but he was always attentive to you and made you feel like the luckiest being in all of Night Court and beyond. But now it magnified, fresh flowers in a vase by your bedside, making you dinners that were both hearty and delicious, taking you on walks when you two had downtime. When it came to Alec, Azriel did not mind taking the helm in some of the busy work. Changing Alec, rocking him to sleep when he was fussy, even helping bathe Alec and his wings which made his day and brought some joy to the pair of you.

But no matter the sleepless nights, the constant fatigue, and never-ending worries, Alec was the light of your life. You loved hearing his laugh, anything and everything amused Alec and made him giggle or shriek. He also was ever curious about everything around him, his eyes were a rare blue scanning everything in his sight and you knew he got that from his father. He even almost had the same scowl as his father, which was amusing, to say the least.

Alec was equally loved by the Inner Circle, especially by Nesta and Cassian. You knew they were thinking about having children of their own, though they were willing to wait a bit more because of Nesta’s hesitance on Motherhood. But you knew Cassian would wait for however long it took since he loved his mate so deeply. Yet when they would hold Alec, seeing his face light up as he would babble at Nesta or attempt to grab Cassian’s hair, it was evident in their smiles and eyes.

They were ready for their own little family.

“His wings are coming along,” Madja explained as her trained eyes were looking along each wing, touching the delicate bones that were under the membrane skin and Alec squirming in her hold, “When he gets bigger you should start stretching his wings out to be strong enough to fly.”

“Fly?” You asked tentatively, Azriel squeezing your shoulder in reassurance. You couldn’t wrap your head around the notion of your son flying, and although he was still a newborn, the day he would fly was not too far away. Flying was an Illryian right of passage so to speak, an ancient and important passage that every Illyrian being would have to partake in for the first time in one’s life. It was mostly meant for the male though, female Illryians had their wings clipped instantly when they were of age. You, of course, were able to dodge that burden thanks to Rhysand and his mother. The horror stories you heard about females and their wings being stripped from them in such a brutal way, it made you paranoid for yourself when you grew up.

Luckily for you, Azriel swore to you that he would never let anyone strip your wings, seeing you as his equal in every way.

“I wouldn’t worry now,” Madja hummed as you, then grinning as she propped Alec on her hip as he was still gnawing at the small toy in his mouth with ease. She walked him over to you, Alec gaining at the sight of you and he reached out with grabby hands and a shriek on his lips, “He’s in good health and one of the happiest babes I’ve ever worked with. You should be proud,”

You nuzzled your son in his arms, breathing in his baby scent with ease as Azriel pressed a kiss into Alec’s raven hair. You smiled at Madja as she was packing up her bag, “Thank you, Madja.”

“Pleasure is mine, and I enjoy your little one compared to the other Illryain babes I’ve handled in the past. He’s an easy one, must have gotten it from his father,” Madja joked, you snorted from her comment of Azriel while he felt a bit flushed.

Madja walked out of the house, leaving the three of you together in your cramped but cozy living room. Although your little cottage was well put away from the hustle and bustle of downtown Velaris, the soft sounds of the city being lively floated into your open front door to hover over the soft silence of the meadow.

Your little house was the perfect mixture of yourself and Azriel that you added over the centuries. It used to belong to a farmer, who went to Rhysand for assistance some time ago in need of finding new land for his crops. He mentioned to Rhysand that he was selling the home, to which Rhysand mentioned it to Azriel since Rhysand knew Azriel was looking for a home for you two to settle in as new Mates.

So Azriel bought the home and gifted you as a Mating gift.

“Look at you being a healthy little one,” Azriel cooed at Alec, who was smiling widely with a toothless grin. Azriel chuckled at the sight, “I think we should celebrate,”

“What do you have in mind?” You asked him, seeing him look out the small windows for a brief moment. Your eyes went in the same direction, seeing the large view of the mountain range that was tucked away behind Velaris.

“How about we go to the mountains?” He suggested to you, you keeping your eyes on the massive mountain peaks as he spoke again, “It’s perfect weather for some time in the mountain, especially near the lake by Rhysand’s family cabin.”

You grinned at the thought of being able to get out of the city for a few hours. The mountains were a good safe haven for the pair of you, plenty of weekends together when either one of you were too stressed or too wound tight. The crisp air in the morning, the calming sounds of the riverbanks and lake, even the distinct scent of the high pines and the fresh dirt. You knew it brought Azriel some peace compared to being in the craziness of Velaris, and you loved it just the same. Now that you had Alec, it would be the perfect time to take your son to the mountains and to have that family time with both your mate and son.

“I think that’s perfect,” You hummed, seeing Azriel grin widely at you since you were willing to take a few hours away with himself and Alec.

“I’ll let Rhysand know that we’ll use his second cabin for the day, and maybe for the night too,” Azriel said to you as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re not going to ask?” You questioned him, though he simply smirked at you as he shrugged.

“If I mention Alec, he won’t mind,” he smoothly answered. You had to give it to him, he knew that Rhysand was a sucker for your son.

“You wanna feel the water? It’s so nice,” You said to Alec as he was eyeing the lake in front of him with wide eyes. He was perched in your lap, the pair of you at the end of the small pier with your legs already in the water. Alec huffed, kicking his legs in your lap as you reached down to gather some water in your hand to have Alec splat his fingers in. You had to laugh, seeing Alec’s bright blue eyes go big from the touch of cool water.

“Should have known you would be a water babe,” You joked as you scooped some more water, Alec once again splashing the water in your palm and laughing as he did. You never minded that you were getting water droplets on your shorts, or even in your hair that was in two Dutch braids down your back, all you were thinking about was how happy Alec was.

True to Azriel’s assumption, Rhysand let you use his cabin. This was not his first cabin, which was in the middle of the Illyrian mountains. This newer cabin with modern finishes was a gift from Feyre to Rhysand, an anniversary present that was a bit bigger to hold more than two beings in the home. It had amazing view of the surrounding mountains and a massive lake in the front of the cabin that was enchanted to only be seen by those staying at the cabin. Magic was laced in the cabin itself, almost like the magic of the townhouse transferred into the cabin itself.

Rhysand was more than willing when Azriel contacted him and told him about wanting to have time with you and Alec away from Velaris. Rhysand understood, he too knew what it was like to want more family time when Nyx was younger and his family was freshly formed. You were grateful that Rhsyand and Feyre knew what it was like to have the newborn, both the blessings and hardships that came with it. Feyre was beyond helpful when you were feeling uneasy and insecure about being a mother, letting you know that it was beyond normal to feel such a way and that you were doing an amazing job.

You were grateful to have the High Lord and High Lady in your corner.

The cabin was in great shape when you two arrived, bringing along some snacks to munch on throughout the day and perhaps staying for the night. Opening the large windows to let the mountain breeze come in, the lake was rippling and inviting. So you decided to take Alec onto the little pier while Azriel went to unpack your bags.

“What are you two up to?” You heard behind you, a pair of feet walking up the pair in your direction as you looked over your shoulder. Azriel, wearing his own pair of shorts and a midnight blue tank top was grinning at the sight.

“Showing your son the lake, and I think he’s a fan,” You explained, Azriel chuckled as he sat down next to you, reaching over to Alec who was attempting to reach down to the water and wiggle out of your hold, “Come here, bub. No need to get too wet,”

Alec was happily perched in his father’s lap, looking at the rippling water below with the reflection dancing along his face. You leaned back on your hands, soaking in the warmth of the sun along your skin and the cool breeze soaring in. It was nice to not hear about the constantly busy city, and although you loved Velaris and all the blessings it gave you over the years, being out in nature was another element that was therapeutic for you.

“What did Rhysand say?” You asked Azriel as you had your eyes closed, soaking in the sun on your skin.

“He told us to stay for however long we wanted, or for however long Alec wanted,” He informed you, to which you cracked a grin, “I told you Rhysand would do anything for him,”

“Our son has the High Lord of Night Court wrapped around his finger,” You teased, “I’m not surprised when it comes to my Cousin.”

The soft sound of splashing was heard, making you open your eyes to look over at the source of the sound. Azriel’s feet were kicking in the water, though Alec was nestled in his arms and slowly fell asleep from the small rocking from Azriel. His eyes were getting droopy, his hands opening and closing absentmindedly, yet he looked comfortable in his father’s arms. It instantly warmed your heart, tilting your head as Azriel watched the lake.

“How is it that he can fall asleep in your arms?” You asked him, Azriel looking down at Alec, seeing how his eyes were lazily blinking and looking up at the sky while trying to stay awake.

“I don’t know,” He answered with a small shrug, not wishing to jostle Alec who was losing the will to stay awake as his eyes were now drifting closed faintly, “He was always this way since he was born. Though I don’t mind,”

Leaning your arm against his own, you perched your head on his shoulder and watched your son who was now fast asleep, seeing his hair flowing a bit in the wind while his head was perched right on Azriel’s chest. Azriel’s fingers lightly rubbed Alec’s arms, a soothing rhythm back and forth along his son’s soft skin.

“How are you, my love?” Azriel asked you gently, his voice so soft and yet hinted with some concern as you grinned, pressing a kiss against his shoulder.

“I’m well,” You answered, “Better these days thanks to you.”

“You look well,” He hummed, you blushing as he kept his hazel eyes on you, “And I can feel it in our bond too. I feel bad that I’ve been away more than I should be when I should be here with you and Alec—“

“No no,” You gently interrupted, looking at Azriel with love in your eyes as you wrapped your arm around his lower waist, your other hand moving his inky black hair from his eyes, “You are taking care of us and doing an amazing job at being his father,”

Azriel grinned, looking back at your sleeping son who curled into Azriel’s hold and was softly snoring. Azriel was also a person of doubt from time to time, wondering if he was providing enough for his little family or not enough. He loved you and Alec, far more than he loved himself, and he would be devastated if his world was rocked. He hated leaving for missions, not that he loved doing missions before. But now he would rather stay at home with you and Alec, even doing pain-staking paperwork if it meant he was there with you both.

“I don’t want any other life, Az.” You reassured him, seeing him look back at you with new warmth in his eyes, “This life is what I want and one I’ll ever need. I’ll take the good and the bad days because I know you’ll be with me every step of the way,”

No matter how many centuries came and went being together, you always had an intense love for Azriel like you did when you two first fell for each other. From being young teenagers with baggage and burden, to now new parents with a bright future ahead, you would take Azriel and Alec over anything else in this world.

Azriel kissed you under the sun, Alec nestled between you two as you framed his face and kissed him back just as sweetly.

The End

Tagged - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #acosf #acomaf #acowar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #daddyazrielandalec #writing #fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel acotar #acotar fanfic #daddyazriel

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emeraldcrs · 3 months ago

Text

@figthoughts × alec mcdowell aestethic♡ (making aestethic's to my lovely mutuals p.2)

an abandoned rooftop, above the night-time metropolis.

alec leans against the railing, rolling a cigarette between his fingers but not lighting it. below, the city's pulsing lights blur into the early morning haze. the wind sweeps across the rooftop, but it’s not strong enough to drown out the faint crackling of purple sparks dancing around fig’s fingers.

"that little stunt of yours almost caused a total blackout down there," alec remarks. his voice is casual, but his gaze is sharp. "nice work."

fig scoffs, tilting her face up toward the sky. a thin trail of blood trickles from her nose, but she doesn’t bother wiping it away. the lightning flashes in her eyes. "if i had wanted total darkness, they would’ve had it."

alec pushes off the railing slowly, stepping closer. not suddenly, not threateningly—just enough for fig to realize she has nowhere to back away.

"and why didn’t you?" he asks, his fingers idly tracing the cigarette, as if he’s more interested in it than in her.

fig doesn’t answer right away. the sparks around her fingers flicker more intensely, like her body is resisting his proximity. or like something else is trying to break free.

alec notices. the purple light, the tension, that tiny tremor fig doesn’t want anyone to see. he hesitates for a split second, then, with deliberate slowness, touches her wrist.

fig’s body jolts, like she’s been shocked—maybe she has. beneath alec’s fingertips, the energy pulses, the purple light rippling across her skin, but she doesn’t pull away.

"you could burn me," alec whispers, but he doesn’t move back.

fig’s lips tremble slightly before she speaks, her voice quiet, a little hoarse. "i know."

lightning cracks across the sky, bright and violet. the moment hangs between them, fragile and unspoken.

alec smirks, but there’s something deeper in his eyes, something he doesn’t understand and maybe doesn’t want to. "then why don’t you?"

fig leans in slowly, close enough that alec can feel her breath, but she doesn’t touch him. the purple light around them crackles more wildly.

"because i’m not sure i want to."

alec looks into her eyes, and for the first time, he doesn’t try to look away. "me neither."

the sparks flare, and for a heartbeat, it seems like neither of them will move, that neither of them will cross the line they’ve both been so stubbornly trying to hold.

but then, fig suddenly pulls back, stepping away.

"not now," she whispers, and in a single violet flash, she’s gone from the rooftop.

alec stays where he is, still feeling the faint ghost of her electricity on his skin. for a long moment, he just stares after her, then finally lights his cigarette.

the smoke curls lazily into the sky as the city pulses on below.

tags: @soldiersgirl @figthoughts @briiverse @bejeweledinterludes @littlesoulshine @cowboysandcigarettes @soangelbaby @sugardean @angelblqde @sunsbaby @soldierboysdoll @thekhloediary @hischrrypie @pieandflannel @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @velvourne @fuckedupfate @rositaslabyrinth @mahi-wayy @jollyhunter @h8aaz

#alec mcdowell #dark angel #jensen ackles #alec mcdowell x reader #alec mcdowell aestethic

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fieldofdaisiies · 6 months ago

Text

Sometimes you need to drift apart from someone to truly understand how much you belong together.

Almost exactly a year after their painful breakup, Azriel and Eris unexpectedly meet again and find themselves trapped together in a snowstorm. With no choice but to spend time together in a small space, the long hours lead to conversations of their past, memories of their adventures togethers, unresolved feelings and heartbreak…

This is my @acotargiftexchange gift for the lovely and absolutely wonderful @daycourtofficial It was a delight being your secret santa💛 I hope you have a very peaceful and calm Christmas filled with so much joy! Sending you love!🎄

Story Playlist

Let Her Go - Passenger

Wish You the Best - Lewis Capaldi

Someone You Loved - Lewis Capaldi

Last Christmas - Wham!

O Holy Night - Mariah Carey

Flowers - Miley Cyrus

Let Me Down Slowly - Alec Benjamin

It Gets Better - Martin Luke Brown

read the whole story below the cut // or on ao3

Dimmed by the snowstorm that has been raging on for days, New York is blanketed in an endless, thick sheet of white. It crunches beneath his polished boots as Eris hurries down the streets, the cool air burning down his throat and landing harshly in his lungs as he tries to catch a cab within all the holiday chaos — many people are leaving, others are returning. The city has turned into an even more intense bustling hub of people and traffic, full of flashing lights and noises.

Eris blows out a long breath, watching the gleam of the street lanterns flicker behind the snow swirling in the air. Traffic is crawling through the mud-coloured slush on the streets and he hopes to finally catch sight of a cab. Otherwise he will be late (he is already late, but not yet too late). He fears he will miss his plane and only over his dead body will he stay alone in New York for Christmas. He has been alone enough in the last year, but certainly not on Christmas. Not on a holiday that is all about family and being together with your loved ones.

Family. His suitcase is filled to the brim with presents for his family. His mother, his youngest brother, his sister-in-law and his beloved niece, Dalia. If his other brothers will show up, is still in the stars – they never announce their visit beforehand.

The harsh, cold wind and snow bite through the layers of his clothes, slowly creeping under his skin. He shivers and clenches his jaw. He‘ll be damned if he catches a cold now…

As he waits, lifting his hand every now and then to signal a cab to stop which still hasn’t happened, Eris watches snow collect on the bare branches of trees and pile on window sills nearby. His breath hangs in the air, each exhale a small cloud in the freezing cold that surrounds him. He can’t wait to leave the city and get back home. To be inside the warm and cosy living room of his mother’s and his step-dad’s house, the smell of the delicious dishes his sister-in-law has cooked wafting through the air.

He likes going home. He likes being home. For a few days, a few weeks. He always quickly realises he misses New York. New York is his new home. The place he loves to live at. However, there’s a loneliness here he can’t shake—there is too much anonymity, too much loneliness in this big city. And Eris hates it. He craves connection, friendships, a sense of belonging. He wants someone—

A sharp honk jolts him from his thoughts, startles him so much his eyes widen in shock and the breath gets caught in his throat.

"Been waiting for me, buddy?"

At last—a taxi! Eris thinks and exhales a relieved breath. He nods in answer, a hint too excitedly. And as he slides into the back seat, pulling his suitcase and bag in with him, he says, "To the airport, please."

The cab driver glances at him in the rearview mirror, cheerful and unfazed. "Alrighty," he replies brightly, his voice nearly drowned out by Last Christmas blaring from the radio. Pushing his foot down on the gas pedal, he sets off immediately. The cab ploughs through the thickening slush, its tires skidding slightly as it moves down streets illuminated by streetlights and colourful Christmas garlands decorating shops and buildings.

Eris rests his head against the window, watching as snowflakes swirl under the streetlights. Despite the Christmas spirit and him looking forward to seeing his family, his chest all of a sudden feels heavy with longing and sadness (not so suddenly actually, he has been feeling like this almost all throughout December). Only a year ago, he had spent Christmas with the most amazing person in the world and then—

"My name’s Suri. I came here, three—no let me think, five years ago. Love that city, great place for people, isn’t it?"

Absently, Eris answers with a quiet, "Mhm", his gaze still locked on the outside world and the snow.

Unaffected by his indifference, Suri continues. "Yo, stranger, where I picked you up, that’s close to my fave Italian restaurant. Have you tried the Pepperoni pizza there? Changed my life, let me tell you that. And don’t even get me started on the Burgers from … man, I don’t remember the shop. The one with the blue sign, it glows at night, right next to the shop selling all those designer bags …"

Eris, even if he deems it rude, zones out. Finally, he can get some rest. Finally, after months full of stress and emotional exhaustion. A few days with his family, with his niece and his beloved dogs. Deep within his heart he knows he deserves it. He deserves this time after everything he has been through. After him.

"Ever been to Times Square on New Year’s Eve? Did you like it? I think it’s magical, but way too crowded to really enjoy it."

Perfect for the first kiss with a man you think you will spend your whole life with only for him to tear your heart out and rip it into shreds a few years later, Eris thinks but doesn’t say out loud. He only sighs loudly and closes his eyes.

They have moved from Last Christmas to O Holy Night and Mariah Carey‘s voice fills the inside of the cab, singing happily and cheerily.

"But you know, despite all the noise, the people and the large crowds, there’s something about this city" … Suri pauses. A dramatic pause that turns into him singing parts of the lyrics along with Mariah before continuing. "No matter where you are from, no matter who you are, you will always find someone who understands you. Who sees you for who you are. Who likes you. Who sees the good in you and who loves you for who you are."

Eris‘ breathing deepens as the back of his throat starts to ache. He hates that. Hates that Suri‘s words shake him to the core. Hates that suddenly silver lines his eyes.

"One day you randomly meet a stranger, and five minutes later, you are sharing life stories or you will end up snogging in the restroom of a bar and then end up in their bed. And two years later you are happily married and you are expecting your first child. But whatever, what‘s your name stranger?"

It takes him a moment to answer, sharply ripped from his thoughts, from all the memories of their time together flooding his mind like tidal waves. A lump has formed in his throat that makes it almost impossible for him to answer, to breathe.

Eris coughs. Once. Twice, not wanting to be rude and not answer. "Eris," he eventually replies, his voice tense as he clutches his bag to his chest. "My name is Eris."

“Funny name,” Suri replies with a chuckle. “Isn’t that a Greek goddess?”

“The goddess of strife and discord.” Eris presses his lips in a thin line, turning his head to the side again. Piles of snow line the edges of the sidewalks. Eris' gaze follows them as the traffic is moving slow, his thoughts unfocused now that old wounds have been ripped open. He can’t be necessarily mad at Suri for bringing up all the things, but he somehow is.

He tried so hard to get rid of all the thoughts, the memories and now … now it’s all he can think about. As they pass Central Park, the usual vibrance seems muted by the snow, colder and darker and a shudder courses through Eris – either from his longing or the cold he is still feeling. He knows that Central Park’s appearance mirrors the feelings deep within him. Cold. Dark. Sad.

Suri continues to ramble, to sing cheerily, unaffected by Eris’ indifference.

Eris is no longer listening to him, or rather no longer listening again, the only sound in his ears the sad beat of his heart. And his voice, his laugh in his mind and it hurts just like a year ago. Hurts just like every damn day of the previous year.

Finally, the airport’s glow appears through the haze, bright lights cutting through the heavy snowfall and Eris straightens. The taxi pulls up close by one of the entrances, tires crunching over snow and then stops. His eyes close for a moment, and when Suri tells him the price for the ride, Eris lets out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Finally. Finally he is going home and can forget about all the sadness for at least a few days.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

The relief about having arrived at the airport vanishes within seconds. It feels like a harsh slap to Eris’ face, one that almost knocks him off his feet, sending him flying through the air, and ends in a brutal landing on his butt.

“Fuck,” Eris curses under his breath and his stomach drops at the sight of him. His ex-boyfriend—his ex-fiancé.

The dark-haired man looks equally surprised to see Eris, equally uncomfortable, a forced smile stretching across his lips that Eris doesn’t reciprocate when their eyes meet. He only walks towards Azriel - well, rather towards his gate. Or their gate apparently. It only makes sense that Azriel is here but at the same time doesn’t. They grew up in villages that weren’t far apart, but what are the chances that Azriel would also wait until the last minute to fly back home for Christmas?

Eris‘ heart pounds in disbelief, heat rising in his face when the smile, this stupidly handsome smile, doesn’t fade from his ex-lovers face. The audacity!

The boldness makes Eris’ nostrils flare and anger blaze through his veins, the audacity of Azriel to smile and act like everything is alright when he had been the sole to destroy his heart.

"We aren’t meant for one another," he had told him back then and it butchered every part of Eris‘ heart that hadn’t been broken before. He was left in pieces when the man he loved most left him and now said man dares to smile at him.

The only thing that brings Eris comfort is that Azriel isn’t as chill about their surprised meeting as he pretends to be. He is nervously clenching and unclenching his hands—his scarred hands, caused by a kitchen fire in his childhood.

Eris remembers how often he rubbed salve on those hands in winter, how he kissed them, how he held them close and warmed them. Not that it ended up meaning anything to Azriel.

Eris‘ eyes dart away, hoping that when he looks back, his ex is gone. But luck has never been on his side. Obviously Azriel, and his awful smile are still there.

It‘s only a few more steps and Eris can feel how his chest tightens more and more, how awkward he suddenly thinks he must look walking towards him. He gets a sudden urge to flee, run, but he is rooted to the ground (and 32 and running would be very, very childish in his mind).

A forced calmness, almost like cool boredom, falls in place on his face and masks his swirling emotions, masks the hurt that is rooted so deeply within his heart.

"Hello Eris." Azriel is the one to speak up first and despite feeling an enormous amount of anger, his smokey voice still causes the same reaction in Eris—chills all over his body. "It’s—"

But Eris holds up a hand to stop him. "Don‘t say it’s good to see me, I really don’t need another lie on top of all the lies you have told me in the past." He shows him a sardonic grin and steps past him, hating that he let his mask drop and his bitterness could reach the surface.

Before Eris can settle into the awkwardness of their first conversation after a year of not talking to one another and his frustration over this conversation even happening, a loud noise sounds through the speakers of the airport. The screeching makes him cringe but doesn’t shock him even half as much as the announcement that is made a second later.

"Dear Passengers, due to the worsening of the snowstorm and the current weather situation we are sorry to inform you that all flights have been cancelled. No planes will leave John F. Kennedy airport this evening and throughout the night. Thank you for understanding. Hotels and hostels closeby will be offering…"

Within seconds, the airport erupts in chaos, frustrated groans and sighs rippling through the shocked and furious crowd and making it impossible for Eris to hear the rest of what is said but he can assume that hotels are offering rooms to those stranded at the airport without a place to go for the night.

Well, at least I can go home and not have to find a hotel, Eris thinks to himself even if a peach-sized weight settles into heart that makes him feel nothing but sadness and disappointment about not seeing his family anytime soon. On Christmas. It means he will be alone on Christmas, and as much as he tries to ignore the fact, the back of his mouth starts to ache as tears start to burn behind his eyes.

Reluctantly, he turns back and finds Azriel still standing where he last saw him. The man’s face has fallen in disbelief and for a split second Eris feels bad for him, knowing Azriel will probably be all alone as well. The moment of compassion, however, passes too quickly to really leave an impact on Eris. He shakes it off, thinking that if Azriel hadn’t ruined everything, he wouldn’t be alone now. If Azriel hadn’t ruined everything they would have spent Christmas together…

Eris feels how his head starts to spin and buzz from all the noises around him. Phones are ringing as passengers search for ideas on how to escape the airport and queues, long queues, form instantly at the desks of the airport. The tension in the air thickens with frustration and involuntary him and Azriel exchange an uncertain glance before his ex turns away and heads for the exit.

Finally he is gone, Eris thinks, hoping to not see Azriel again so soon. Or ever. He hopes he never has to see him again. Never has to have an encounter with him again.

Mutters of annoyance and disbelief fill the air around Eris, and it almost gets to the point of being overwhelming. He wants to get out of here immediately, but not before trying to book another flight in the morning. Eris approaches the counter, or rather the queue in front of it, his heart beating unsteadily.

The lady at the counter shakes her head, “I have no information, I have already told you so. Come back in the morning, we will know more by then.” Without another word, she turns the sign on the desk so that it says "closed" instead of "open", turns off her computer and locks up the counter.

Frustration and sadness flicker in Eris’ eyes and he rubs his hand over his chin before summoning the strength to turn around and walk away. He somehow doesn’t fully want to believe it. He will truly be alone on Christmas and only God knows when there will be a next chance to see his family. This hurts. Christmas all alone. Without his family. He wasted a holiday at work only so he could see his family and only to end up completely alone in the end. What a shame!

Seeing Eris again after all this time has unsettled Azriel more than he likes to admit. Covering his face with his forearm, Azriel heads out into the snowstorm and realises that it has indeed worsened.

"God," Azriel breathes and his heart drops even lower than it did when seeing Eris before. New York has turned into a snow chaos, you can barely make out any buildings, or trees or people, or anything.

In addition, speaking to the cab drivers lined up in front of the airport is equally disappointing as getting the flight being cancelled and having to run into Eris out of everyone he could have run into. So, reluctantly Azriel returns inside a heavy weight of sorrow resting upon his chest about not seeing his family—his found family and his mother— for Christmas and having to spend it all alone once more.

Last year he wasn’t alone, last year he was with—Speak of the devil!

Just as he steps inside, his body collides with the one person he really didn’t want to bump into again.

Eris’ expression is equally grim as his own and as he tries to hurry past him, however Azriel’s arm flies forward before he can think about what he is doing and he holds Eris back.

“No cabs,” Azriel says, frustration ringing loud in his voice. “It’s too dangerous, streets are shutting down and the cab drivers won‘t take a risk. Only option is to call someone for a ride." He lets go of Eris‘ arm when he feels the man’s body tense beneath his palm.

Eris’ face falls instantly. “I have no one to pick me up," he breathes and the look on his face almost makes Azriel want to wrap him into his arms and tell him that he will be fine. “I was going to my family, no one is here, no one can pick me up.”

Azriel nods and a deep sigh parts his lips, “Same.”

Silence falls upon them like a heavy sheet that almost crushes them beneath it, and yet an unspoken bond of shared helplessness forms between them.

"So I guess we need to find a hotel then. Come on."

We. We! Azriel has long ago stopped hoping he would ever hear Eris referring to them as we. He stopped when he ended things between them. When he became the reason for Eris to stop referring to them as we. Azriel never wanted to, but it was for the best. For Eris. But now the We is back and a kernel of hope, of happiness, flickers back to life deep within Azriel’s chest.

>>>>>>

"We are sorry but there is only one room available." The lady with the tight bun on top of her head presses her lips in a thin line, clearly frustrated. "I have told you before and all the money in the world that you are willing to give me won’t make another room appear, Mr Vanserra. There is only one room left, you're not the only one stranded at the airport tonight." Her tone is so sharp, it could almost cut through the wood of her desk.

It’s now the third hotel close to the airport. The first two had no room left, this one only one.

Eris begins to nod, reluctantly, and gives in. It is what it is, he thinks. They will have to stay here, because walking back to their apartments in the snowstorm is definitely not an option. For neither of them. He doesn’t know where Azriel now lives, but he guesses it isn’t close-by either.

"All right, we‘ll take it." He snatches the keycard from the desk and tilts his head towards the staircase, signalling Azriel that they are moving now. Azriel looks equally annoyed over the fact of having to spend at least the rest of the evening and the night with no other than his ex-boyfriend in a hotel room.

A very small hotel room.

The room is even smaller than expected, but at least somehow cosy, Eris thinks. With a double bed and a small desk and drawer and a lamp on top that casts a warm glow upon the dark brown carpet and wallpaper, it looks almost comfortable. But who cares about cosy and comfortable when you are trapped with your ex?

Eris realises that Azriel is worse at hiding his obvious irritation about the size of the room than he himself when he catches him cringes.

He takes it as a chance to shoot something at him, and make his frustration air. The door falls shut behind them and Eris turns to Azriel, scowling. “Don’t make a face like this. It’s not like we haven’t shared a room before,” Eris grumbles and Azriel flashes him an incredulous look.

"You wouldn’t even properly say hello to me at the airport and now—"

"Now we are trapped in a snowstorm, so we better accept our fate and move on."

"Right," Azriel groans, pressing his lips in a thin line. "Then I get the bed."

"Obviously, not. I get the bed. Remember, my sensitive back."

"You‘re just old," Azriel bites back.

Eris glares at him, bracing his knee on the mattress. "I have a sensitive back!"

Azriel mirrors his movement. "And you‘re old."

"I‘m only two years older than you."

"You‘re closer to forty than I am."

"You‘re impossible, Azriel." Eris shakes his head.

"You‘re egoistic. That’s probably why we broke up in the first place."

An emotion, almost like regret, flashes in Azriel’s eyes for having said these words.

Yet, he gets no chance to apologise. Eris won’t give him one. He turns away sharply and plops down onto the carpeted floor. He says nothing as he leans his head against the wall, and closes his eyes.

His heart hurts too much to speak.

>>>>>>>>

Azriel knows that it was wrong to say what he said. Eris had not once been egoistic. And so it clearly wasn’t the reason for their break up. The reason for their breakup was … far more complex.

Azriel loved Eris, but knew he had never been good enough for someone like Eris. Eris is perfect and Azriel is … far from perfect.

He has never stopped thinking that.

Eris comes from a rich English family that moved to America when Eris was only a few years old. Their family business thrived even more here—boomed, to be specific. Eris, other than most of his brothers, didn’t enter into the company but became a doctor instead. Which is still a completely different world than the one Azriel lives in—growing up only with his mother who had worked three jobs at a time so she could make a living. Azriel loves his mother, and he liked his childhood—to clarify, the parts that he didn’t have to spend with his awful father.

A sigh parts Azriel’s lips, cutting through the heavy silence that has fallen over them. He cast a sidelong glance at Eris, watching the deep frown on his beautiful face as he concentrates on something on his phone.

Azriel has absentmindedly been watching the news on the TV, the volume turned silent, only looking at the pictures, too distracted by the tension in the air to truly focus. Unsaid words linger in the space between them, words of apology and forgiveness, but neither of them is ready to speak up yet.

So Azriel retreats to his own thoughts, turning off the TV and leaning his head back, resting it against the bed frame. Memories of their past—of their shared past— slowly start to slither into his mind like greedy snakes, feasting on his pain.

The first time they met was at a party of his best friend Rhys and his girlfriend Feyre. Their first meeting was all stolen glances across the room, soft chatter and a too-drunk kiss in the kitchen, sloppy and needy, both of them using too much tongue and tasting of liquor and smoke. It made them both laugh.

He remembers when they first held hands in public, the looks people gave them and how Eris had assured Azriel that they were fine. Eris had dated men before him, Azriel hadn’t. Eris was his first. His first everything when it came to being with a man. He was worried, almost scared, at the beginning, but everything eased quickly and he fell madly in love with Eris Vanserra.

He has never stopped being in love with him.

The thing he loved most about their time together were their late-night conversations where they shared dreams and memories. Another thing he loved was going to concerts with Eris. They went to see Hozier and Ed Sheeran, and went to Coachella together.

Azriel’s eyes flicker open and he glances at Eris again, but the man is still focused on his phone. His posture is tense and stiff, his jaw clenched.

Azriel desperately wants the frown to vanish from Eris’ face and see his ex smile again. He loved when Eris smiled, loved it even more when he laughed—it was the most beautiful sound in the entire world. He loved hearing it. He wants to hear it again.

They had so many inside jokes they could probably laugh an entire day about them. And their playful teasing was one of Azriel’s favourite things in the world. He always acted annoyed but deep inside him, he loved them.

His eyes close again. Involuntarily, a sad smile appears on his lips at the memories, at the quiet mornings they spent in bed, limbs entangled. At the shared meals they often cooked together, or simply held each other close, talking softly until late into the night. The I love yous they shared. So many of them. And each one was sincere and honest.

As his thoughts start to stray, Azriel cheeks start to warm.

He also loved sex with Eris. The man always made him feel like he was a king, like he deserved the world, like it was all about his pleasure, about making him feel good. And he did, every time they were intimate, even if it was just a quick, shared moment of desire in the bathroom before both needed to go to work.

Work. It hits Azriel like a slap and makes his blood run cold. Work was a major reason for their breakup. Or at least, in Azriel’s opinion, it was.

It started with small arguments, mostly fueled by Azriel’s frustration about finding a job, then losing it because the company had to reduce its number of employees. Obviously, Azriel thought that he wasn’t good enough and so they chose him and kicked him out. Then months of hopeless searching for a new job came, only to lose the next one as well. The stress had got the best of him and he found himself unloading it all on Eris, reminding himself over and over again that he wasn’t good enough for the Vanserra and Eris deserved much better.

He didn’t even have enough money to take Eris out on a proper date or buy him large, fancy gifts. Obviously Eris would never say that it bothered him. The doctor never said that it bothered him that Azriel lived in his flat without having to pay a penny, and always assured him that he would soon find a job. Azriel wanted to believe that, but failed.

Working in IT can be incredible, but only when you had a secure job—and finding that security was the biggest challenge he ever faced. Only recently, around four months ago, he finally managed to land something secure. Hopefully.

Azriel swallows thickly and the back of his mouth starts to ache. He clenches his jaw.

The silence in the room feels almost oppressive at this point, pressing down on him and making it hard for him to breathe. He opens his eyes again.

Apparently, Azriel isn’t the only one to think so, the only one who can no longer stand the silence between them.

Eris is shifting uncomfortably, then he turns to Azriel. He clears his throat and his eyes briefly brush Azriel’s. "Your mother, Eleni, … have you informed her that you are trapped here?"

After all this time, Azriel thinks, Eris still worries about my mother. He still worries. He still cares.

"I sent her a message." Azriel’s voice is hoarse, raspy from not talking for a while.

A curt nod is Eris‘ answer, lips pressed in a firm line.

"Did you inform your family?"

"I told Lucien, he will tell mum. I believe my father couldn’t care less about me coming home or not. I think he couldn’t care less about me not being there. I’m not even sure I will go see him this year…"

In the past, Eris always found it difficult to talk about his family situation and Azriel knows that he was one of the few people that Eris opened up to. He told him about his mother and her new partner, about Beron staying in the family home and that Imala had to move out when they got their divorce.

And there it is, Eris opening up again, not shutting him out. Azriel will take this as a chance and a kernel of relief blooms within him. He shifts on the bed, moving closer to his ex-boyfriend still sitting on the carpeted floor.

"The situation hasn’t changed?" Azriel carefully asked. It is a stupid question, he knows this. As long as Eris loves men, his father will despise him. Nothing will ever change about that—it is the same with his own father.

"He won’t change. He will never change, Azriel."

Finally, Eris really meets his gaze, his eyes are nothing but sad. Azriel fights the urge to reach out, to brush his cheek, his hair, his shoulder and kiss the sadness away. He can’t stand it, seeing Eris like this. He never could.

"But whatever. It‘s just my father and I only have to see him two to three times a year." Eris wears a sardonic smile as he shakes his head. "How‘s life been treating you lately?"

I miss you every day, Eris, Azriel thinks, but doesn’t say out loud. Obviously he doesn’t say so. He was the one to end things back then.

So, he only shrugs his shoulders. "I can’t complain. I landed a job in this start-up company and it’s looking really good. Finally something that seems secure."

"I’m glad to hear this." The honesty in Eris‘ smile, mirrors the one in his eyes. He means it.

"Meaning I can finally give you back all the money and—"

"The fuck you will, Azriel!" The smile on Eris’ lips immediately turns into a scowl—his eyes ablaze with anger. "It wasn’t like I was your sugar daddy. I paid for the flat because it was my flat and—"

"I lived there as well."

"It was still my flat. I got to keep it after our breakup while you had to find a new place to live. Hell, where do you even live now?"

"Staten Island," Azriel answers flatley.

Eris acknowledges the information with a curt nod.

"You took me on dates—"

"Because I wanted to. I wanted to take you out and go to places with you. I also benefited from these dates and trips, it wasn’t just for you. I enjoyed myself too."

"You paid for my Coachella ticket."

"It was your birthday present." Eris shakes his head again. "I have never cared about spending money, and especially not about spending money on things we could do together. That we would enjoy together. As a couple. I loved spending time with you and I couldn’t care less if we needed money for it or not. It was never about the price, only about being with you."

The words shake Azriel to the core, landing like a harsh slap on his cheek.

He is frozen in place for a moment, unable to say something. Then after a second and a deep breath, he opens his mouth. "I liked spending time with you as well." Azriel throws his statement into the room like it physically pains him to say so.

"Clearly,” Eris says, his tone sarcastic, “so much that you broke up with me."

"These are two completely different pairs of shoes, Eris," Azriel groans. "And don’t make it sound like breaking up with you was so easy for me."

"Well it seemed rather easy for you." Eris crosses his arms over his chest, glowering as he looks up at Azriel.

Azriel presses his lips in a thin line. His eyes close, then open, and he flexes his fingers. "Can you please sit up here with me. I can’t talk to you like that. Not when you are still sitting on the floor."

A frown graces Eris‘ face, but eventually he rises —reluctantly and slowly— and joins Azriel on the bed, sinking into the soft cushions, but keeping a fine distance between him and Azriel.

He seems to hesitate, but eventually says, “I never got closure. I have never stopped thinking about what I have done wrong, how I could have fixed all the things broken. Why I didn't see the signs before it was too late." Eris’ voice is low and vulnerable.

Azriel looks away, guilt flickering in his eyes. “Ending our relationship wasn’t as easy as I made it seem.”

"Right." A sardonic chuckle from Eris‘ lips.

"I mean it." Azriel’s frustration rises as the pain from the past resurfaces. Memories of many nights crying alone in bed, or in Cass‘ or Rhys‘ arms, or drunk at a bar at three am, resurface.

"And still you just left… and my heart was torn apart and broken into a million pieces," Eris spits, the hurt loud and clear in his voice as he turns his head away sharply, almost as if dismissing Azriel as his gaze fixates on the storm still raging outside the window.

Emotionally charged silence hangs between them in the moments that follow. Azriel’s stomach twists with regret, his throat tightening when he says, "I’m so sorry." He knows it is a stupid thing to say, too little, too late, but he really is sorry. Their relationship should have never ended like this. It should have never ended.

>>>>>>>>

They exchange a look after Azriel‘s unasked apology. Their gazes linger and it twists his gut. The hurt is palpable, and eventually Eris says, "I have never moved on." His voice is barely above a whisper. "I couldn’t. I couldn’t imagine myself without you."

Azriel releases a deep breath as the words settle between them. "I‘ve felt the same way."

After their mutual revelations, they lose the eye contact again as if looking at each other would make them do something irrational. Something stupid. And yet, unconsciously, Eris‘ pinky finger brushes Azriel’s. The other tenses, body going stiff and Eris notices how Azriel suddenly holds his breath. But then, to his surprise, he moves his hand as well, and slides it into Eris‘.

Eris freezes, almost shocked, his heart lurching in his chest. He can feel the sparks between their hands. The chemistry has not faded, electricity still erupts between their palms whenever they touch. Even a year after their break up.

Eris steals a quick glance at Azriel, noticing how his cheeks have turned rosy and how a small smile plays on his lips. He promptly averts his gaze again, looking at the frost-covered windows and the still heavy snowfall outside. A deep breath parts his lips, and he realises that his chest no longer feels so heavy, so tight.

“It’s scary, but also beautiful, isn’t it?” he murmurs.

"The snowstorm?" Azriel asks in a soft whisper.

"Love." This time when he turns his head, Azriel is already looking at him, eyes heavy-lidded as they momentarily brush Eris‘ lips and then immediately snap up to his eyes again.

For Eris it somehow feels like the moment he saw Azriel for the first time. How he fell in love with Azriel at first sight. The moment at the party when their eyes met for the first time. Azriel is more beautiful than any other man he has ever seen before. He isn’t only beautiful on the outside, but also deep within his heart – the part Eris fell in love with.

The Vanserra shifts uncomfortably on the bed, the space between them too big but at the same time too narrow. He tears his gaze away from Azriel, not wanting to do something irrational like all of a sudden kiss him. He really wants to, but knows how stupid it would be. It would make everything ever more complicated and if there is something he really doesn’t need in his life on top of everything else than it is complication. Especially when it comes to his ex-boyfriend.

He turns his attention back to the snowstorm, to the frost outside while his own heart - fully of its own accord - starts to warm within him. His voice is a quiet mutter, almost swallowed by the silence around them when he says, "I never understood your intentions, Azriel. One moment you were here and everything seemed fine, and the next you grew distant and threw everything away."

Azriel’s face falls, the small smile fading as frustration flickers in his eyes. "There had been a distance between us long before."

"A distance you forced between us," Eris cuts in sharply, voice laced with bitterness. His jaw tightens, and he turns back to look at Azriel with a mixture of pain and anger in his auburn eyes.

"It wasn’t just me or my fault. You played your role in it as well."

Eris‘ eyes widen in surprise. "I loved you, Azriel. And I would have given everything for you, for our love. I even cut strings with my father, for you. For us!"

Azriel flinches at the words, a flash of hurt crossing over his face before he quickly hides it. He breathes in deeply. Once, twice, a few times. Then he exhales a long breath and lets his chin fall to his chest. "That‘s part of the problem. I didn’t want you to do it. To have to do this. Not because of me. He is your family. I wanted to protect you from … losing him." His voice is thick with emotion, trembling as silver starts to line his eyes.

Eris lets out a shaky breath. "Protect me from losing them? I would have never lost my family. My real family, the people who care about me and love me. And when it comes to my father? I wouldn’t really call it a loss. I hate that man." He shakes his head with a loud snort. "You should have talked to me. You made the decision of the breakup for both of us without even giving me a chance to talk to you. Wanting to protect me but destroying me in the course of it.”

"I was scared you wouldn’t understand and I’d only end up hurting you more. I thought you would be much better off without me and eventually would forget about me.”

Eris is shaken by his ex-boyfriend's revelation. His anger falters as his hands start to tremble. "Forget you? Forget us and everything we had? Azriel, you were the only person I could never forget. I loved you more than my own life. You were my world.”

Azriel’s eyes glisten, his shoulders lifting and falling with deep breaths. "I could never forget you either. You were … everything to me, Eris. Everything I had in this damn city and everything I loved… I love the most in the world."

Eris reaches up to wipe away a tear, then swallows roughly. He wants to say something, anything, but he is at a loss of words. Especially when Azriel continues, his truth shaking Eris to the core.

“I never stopped loving you, Eris. Not for a single second," Azriel admits in a voice laden with regret.

A sheet of heavy silence falls over them as the words sink in. Eris is unable to answer, to do anything. He only looks at the wall across from them, replaying Azriel’s revelation in his mind.

Eventually Eris lowers his gaze, his voice barely above a whisper when he says, “I couldn’t move on either. It was simply impossible.” He gives his head a little shake before lifting his gaze again. "Did you… try moving on with someone else?"

Azriel’s throat bobs. "I’ve tried it. Tried dating. But … nothing felt like it did with you," he admits. "Nothing felt like you. No one did."

Their fingers are still naturally laced together, as if they belong together. Because they do, Eris thinks. Because their hands belong together just as much as they do.

"What do you mean?" he asks in a quiet voice.

Azriel’s features soften. "With you, I felt good, seen and loved. Respected and happy. I felt alive. I loved being with you, and experiencing everything the universe had planned for us. I was a fool for what I did. For ending … us. It is my biggest regret in life. My biggest mistake."

When their eyes meet again, there is a spark in Eris‘ eyes—a silent question, a flicker of hope.

The space between them grows narrow, their breaths mingling as they slowly lean closer. Azriel’s gaze drops to Eris’s lips, then back up, as if silently asking for permission. Their foreheads touch, their eyes close and then, slowly, tentatively, their lips meet.

The kiss is hesitant, almost as if they have never kissed before. As if their lips have never touched before, as if their lips have never kissed every part of the other‘s body before.

The moment is too precious, too fragile to rush anything. They want to enjoy it. Bringing one hand up, Eris lets it glide over Azriel’s arm, to his shoulder and eventually to the back of Azriel’s head where he tangles his fingers into the silken strands at the nape of his neck. He wants to deepen the kiss, devour Azriel‘s lips and savour every small moment of it.

However, he makes the plan without Azriel‘s mum. A sudden, shrill ringing cuts through the moment, making them pull away from each other sharply.

Azriel seems to be needing a moment to gather his thoughts, appearing slightly confused as he looks around him, confusion flickering across his face, before reaching into his pocket to fish out his phone. "Mom!" he exclaims, his voice tinged with surprise as he presses the phone to his ear. "I'm fine, yes. And yes, I have food. What—I didn’t get that?"

Eris chuckles softly, the sound low and teasing, before he drags his hand down his face. Then with the confidence of a man who has just kissed his ex-boyfriend who seems to miss him just as much as he does, he reaches out, tipping Azriel's chin up with two fingers, a warm smile playing on his lips.

"Tell her I miss her," he mouths to Azriel.

The man, his phone still against his head, shoves Eris’ hand away and then flips him off.

"Hopefully tomorrow," Azriel says then, smiling as their eyes meet again. "Don’t worry about me, I‘m alright. More than alright. I‘m looked after." His smile turns into something akin to a grin and then he begins to nod. "I will tell you everything when I‘m home. Love you, see you soon. Bye—yes, don’t worry. Yes! Mom! Good, Love you."

Azriel is blushing when he lowers his phone to the mattress, a sheepish smile on his lips. "Where were we?" he asks and leans in again.

Eris mirrors his movement, yet the moment their lips brush, he doesn’t kiss the other, but instead says, "There is something else, right? Another reason you broke up with me. Tell me. Be honest with me. Please. I deserve that."

Azriel’s eyes flutter shut, his trembling lids mirroring the quivering of his lips. He seems to fight with his emotions, struggling to find the right words, but also finally ready to reveal the whole truth he has been holding back the past year.

He swallows audibly and opens his eyes again. Unshed tears form in them as they lock with Eris‘ auburn ones.

"I felt like a burden to you, Eris," Azriel admits, and releases a deep sigh. "You always paid for everything. You worked so hard, while all I ever did was search for jobs—only to find one and lose it within a month. Someone like me will never be good enough for someone like you." He shakes his head, but Eris catches his face gently in his hands. His palms soft against the stubble on Azriel‘s jaw.

"I don’t deserve you, Eris," Azriel continues before his ex can speak. He is not done yet pouring out his heart and putting all the cards on the table. "I never did. I’m not a good guy and—"

"You are!" Eris interrupts, his voice shaking as tears start to line his eyes. "You are and you always were. This is absolute bullshit you're saying. You were never a burden to me."

"Maybe you didn’t realise how much—"

"How much I loved you? How little I cared about the fact that I was paying for most of our dates as you said before. I wouldn’t even have noticed if you hadn’t told me. I loved you, everything about you, every small detail and I couldn’t care less about how much money you brought into our relationship. We are not living in the Middle Ages anymore where the betrothed has to bring a certain amount of money into the marriage."

He drags in a deep breath, sliding his hands from his face to his shoulder, then gently, he pulls Azriel’s closer. “Azriel,” Eris begins, his voice low, “you were everything to me.”

Azriel’s lips part, and a shaky breath escapes. “You were everything to me.”

Eris’s hands begin to tremble, his own eyes watering. “I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped loving you. It was always you, Azriel. And it will—”

“And will forever be,” Azriel finishes, his voice barely above a whisper. "It will forever be you, Eris."

A faint smile tugs at Azriel’s lips as he adds, “Fucking fortunate that we were caught in this damn snowstorm.”

Eris lets out a quiet laugh at that, the sound easing some of the sadness between them.

"Otherwise we would have never talked…"

"We‘re idiots."

"You‘re an idiot, Azriel. You should have talked to me and not ended things without—"

"I know. I know I am and what I did was the worst mistake I could have ever made. I’m sorry."

Eris shifts on the bed, lying down. Azriel follows and lays his head down on Eris’s chest, right above his heart. Naturally, Eris’s hand finds its way to the nape of Azriel’s neck, his fingers threading softly into his hair.

Eris exhales a long breath. "I missed this."

"I missed you," Azriel sighs and his tears start to run freely.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

When Eris wakes, an odd feeling of familiarity overcomes him. His face is pressed against the juncture where Azriel‘s neck meets his shoulder, his arm tightly wrapped around the other man, their limbs entangled. In his nose, there is only the scent of Azriel, the cologne he always uses, dark and musky.

"Good morning, baby," Eris drawls in his sleepy, morning voice and his eyes open wide within an instant, while his heart slams to a halt. He notices his mistake immediately.

Baby.

God! It has just slipped through his lips. However Azriel, much to his own relief, doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t seem to consider it a mistake.With a lazy smile playing on his lips, the man turns in Eris‘ hold, then kisses Eris’ jaw.

"Morning, baby." The lazy smile quickly turns into a silly grin that makes Azriel, even though he is in his thirties, appear oddly boyish. "God! I missed the sound of you calling me that." He blows out a happy breath. "And I missed calling you that."

"I did too," Eris hums and lowers his forehead to Azriel‘s. He smiles, his heart oddly at ease. However the man below him starts to pout and wiggle in his hold. "Where is my good morning kiss?"

"Right here." Eris kisses him softly, carefully, and yet the hunger of all the time missed between them pours into it. Eris slides his tongue over the seam of Azriel’s lips, gently asking for entrance which the man happily grants him.

It is wonderful, Eris thinks, the feeling so familiar and warm. Their lips are made for one another, perfectly sealing, becoming one.

They kiss for a long time, so long they don‘t even notice that the snowstorm outside has started to calm, now only single, small flakes of white swirl around in the frosty December air.

Azriel’s starts to tangle his fingers in the hair at the nape of Eris‘ neck, almost as if never wanting to let go again. He deepens the kiss, pressing his mouth against Eris‘ with quite an urgency as if to forget about everything that happened between them, as if to erase the 11 months that separated them.

The kiss is intense, needy, hungry, Eris realises, and suddenly the room feels too small, the walls too close, the space too narrow and he can’t breathe anymore.

He can’t keep kissing Azriel—not when their paths will part after today, anyway. Too much has happened between them, and some things can’t be undone. They can’t just go back to how things were before they broke up, can they?

Azriel must have noticed Eris’ sudden distraction, that he no longer focuses on the moment, on the kiss and so he slowly pulls back. And so does Eris.

Eris’ eyes shut and he wipes his hand down his face, his heart slumping.

"Fuck," he curses, and yet his voice is soft, and slightly hoarse. His hand lingers on Azriel’s face a moment longer, before he lets it drop to the pillow below.

"We still need to talk about—What this—what last night, what all of this means … to us." He exhales a long, shuddering breath. "For our future. And for us."

Azriel sucks in a shuddering breath. "I was an idiot." His jaw flexes as he grinds his teeth in anger. "I projected everything I was feeling on you and that was wrong."

Their gazes finally meet again and lock. "I want to give us another chance. I want us to try again—" He stops himself, wipes his hand over his mouth and then adds, "Given that this is also what you want."

Hesitance and doubt settles in Eris gut like a heavy weight, making his breathing deepen.

"I promise I’ll do better this time. I‘ll stop convincing myself I’m not good enough for you. I‘ll stop believing that we don’t work out together."

A mix of many emotions flickers over Eris‘ face—worry, longing, fear, … love. He has never stopped loving Azriel, isn’t even sure he would ever be able to do so, but trying a relationship again when last time‘s end tore him into pieces…?

"Azriel…” he starts, but his voice trembles so hard he needs a moment to breathe. He turns his head away and his eyes close.

"I don’t want to lose you. Not again, Eris. Please … let me fight for us. I messed up. I messed up a lot, but I won’t make this mistake again."

Eris exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, still not looking at Azriel. "Last time the break up destroyed me. I can’t do this a second time. I won‘t survive it a second time."

"It won’t happen again. Never again. We will try and we will fight. I will fight to do better, I will—"

"I don’t want you to have to do this. I don’t want you to try and be better or do better. I want to be able to love you and that‘s all, Azriel."

Eris closes his eyes again, and when they open, he turns his head back to Azriel. "I want us to just love each other, without worrying about money or some similar bullshit. I want you, Azriel. Exactly how you are and not some other version of you, some fake version, some act you put on for my benefit. I want you the way you are right now, honest, sincere, vulnerable. I want the Azriel I got to know all those years ago." He pauses to breathe again.

"I’ve never stopped loving you. I want to be with you. All the distance between us, the time we couldn’t spend together showed me how much I actually love you, how much I need you in my life ,” he admits and of their own accord his hands reach out to pull Azriel in again.

"So, that‘s a yes to trying again?" Azriel places a soft kiss to Eris‘ chest, then fully snuggles his face into the other’s shirt.

Eris is about to answer, but takes a moment to consider. Then he kisses the top of Azriel‘s head. "I want us to give time." His fingers travel down the length of Azriel’s back and up again. "Let's not rush things now. We should give ourselves the time over Christmas to think about everything and then—"

"We‘ll meet and talk?" Azriel pushes up from Eris‘ chest, his sparkling eyes and his sheepish smile hopeful. "I‘ll be by back by the 28th and—"

"Me too." A faint smile forms on Eris‘ lips before he blows out a long, pent-up breath. "Don’t make me regret this."

tags: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams @acourtofladydeath @secret-third-thing @born-to-riot @chunkypossum @jules-writes-stories @unanswered-stars @christeareads @mistandmemories @bookishbroadwaybish @c-starstuff-man0 @talibunny30 @nestasgoodside @baileybird71

thank you so much for beta reading @queercontrarian @born-to-riot and @moonlightazriel🫶🏻

#azris #acotar #azriel #acosf #azriel x eris #secretsanta2024 #acotar gift exchange #eris vanserra

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cece693 · 14 days ago

Text

STOP LOVING ME

pairing: alec lightwood x gender neutral reader synopsis: Alec confesses his feelings for you. However, while a part of you wants to accept him, the other—the one who has done unspeakably ugly and evil deeds—can't.

The rooftop was cold, but not to you. Not anymore. You stood on the ledge, arms crossed, your silhouette caught between moonlight and shadow. The city below pulsed like a slow heartbeat. Somewhere down there, people were laughing. Living. You hadn’t felt alive in a long time.

Alec’s footsteps were soft, but you heard them before he even reached the gravel. “You weren’t at the Institute tonight,” he said, voice steady, always steady with you.

You didn’t turn around. “Didn’t think I was needed.”

“You’re always needed,” he replied, the words tight. “Especially by me.”

That got your attention. You turned, slowly, and found him standing just a few feet behind you, jaw clenched, brows drawn. He looked like a man who had rehearsed something a hundred times and finally decided it was worth the risk to say aloud. “Alec—”

“I love you.”

Silence.

Just like that. He said it as if it was a truth carved into him.

You blinked. No one had said those words to you in centuries—not without screaming, or blood, or regret. And here was Alec—stupidly good, painfully brave, impossibly young—offering you something you’d buried long ago with your own name.

“Don’t.” Your voice cut through the air like a blade—quiet, sharp, and final. “Don’t say that you love me.” you repeated, softer now. As if you regretted raising your voice. As if you regretted hurting him. But not enough to take it back.

Alec took a step closer. “Why not?”

You looked away, toward the flickering lights of New York, the distant pulse of a city that never slept. “Because you don’t mean it. You think you do. But you don’t know what I’ve done.”

“I don’t care about your past—”

“You should,” you snapped. “You should care, Alec. You should run.”

His brow creased, but he didn’t move. “You’re not a monster.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “No? I’ve killed for hunger. I’ve killed because I didn’t care. There was a time when the world could burn, and I would’ve watched just to see the light dance on corpses.” You turned to face him then, your eyes shadowed with centuries of regret. “You see something good in me—but it’s not real. It’s your kindness, your hope, your light. It’s not me.”

Alec stepped closer again, carefully. “What if I do see the darkness?” he whispered. “What if I see all of it and still choose to love you?”

“Then you’re a fool.”

Alec didn’t flinch.

He didn’t retreat like you wanted him to. Like you needed him to. He just stood there, unshaken, in the space between your sorrow and his stubborn hope.

“Maybe,” he murmured, a half-smile flickering at the corners of his lips, “but I’m your fool. And I’d rather be that than live a life pretending I don’t love you.”

You shook your head. “You don’t understand. Loving me costs something. Everyone who ever tried...they died, Alec. Or they changed. Became something ugly just to hold onto me.”

“I’m not afraid of changing,” he said quietly. “I’m afraid of losing you.”

“I’m not worth what you’d lose.”

His jaw clenched. “You don’t get to decide that.”

The words struck deeper than they should have. You had spent decades, centuries maybe, defining your worth by the damage you caused. And here he was—so human and full of belief—undoing it with a single sentence.

You stepped back, like a wounded animal trying to run from the open hand. “Stop this,” you whispered. “Before you ruin yourself.”

“I’d rather be ruined with you than whole without you.”

You trembled.

A moment passed.

Then another.

And then—you fled.

Because it was easier to disappear into the dark than stand in the warmth of his love and wonder if you could ever deserve it.

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cozmowrites · 4 months ago

Text

if i killed someone for you

if i killed someone for you - alec benjamin

villain! reader x hero! bakugou

+++++

The city lights cast a harsh glow across the skyline, the weight of the night pressing down like an oppressive silence. The streets were quiet, almost eerily so, save for the faint hum of sirens in the distance. You perched on a rooftop, the wind ruffling your hair as you gazed down at the chaos you had caused. The plan had been simple, quick. You'd gone in, taken what you needed, and left destruction in your wake.

But now, standing there, watching the flickers of red and blue lighting up the dark, something gnawed at you. You should be long gone by now, hidden in the shadows, but you couldn't bring yourself to leave. Not yet.

You weren't alone on this roof. The familiar presence of explosions echoed through the air as Bakugou stood a few feet away, his back to you, fists clenched at his sides. His fiery spikes of blond hair were wild, his costume tattered from the pursuit, but there was no hiding the rage in his stance.

"You know, you're getting real good at pissing me off," Bakugou growled, voice rough but controlled.

You didn't answer right away. There was something about his voice—something about the way it cracked through the tension—that sent a strange feeling through you. It wasn't fear or anger. No, it was... something else.

"You've been a pain in my ass for way too long," he continued, turning to face you now, his fiery eyes narrowing. "But that doesn't mean I'm gonna let you just wreck shit whenever you feel like it."

You finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "You'll stop me... right? Is that what you're saying?"

Bakugou's eyes flickered with something sharp. "You think I've let you get away with everything just so I can stop you now? You're fucking wrong."

The words stung, but not in the way you expected. It wasn't the anger you saw from him—it was something deeper. Something... more conflicted.

His expression hardened. "If I wanted to stop you, I would've done it already. But this—" He gestured around them, toward the aftermath of your chaos, his jaw clenched tight. "This is getting old. You've done worse. You've killed."

You flinched, your gaze dropping to the ground. The weight of your actions hit you harder now, but you couldn't bring yourself to apologize. Not to him.

"You don't care about that, do you?" he asked, the roughness in his voice softening just the slightest bit. "You think I'm gonna just let you walk away, after everything you've done?"

Your pulse quickened, and you finally let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. You met his gaze, searching his face for any sign of the familiar anger, the intense hatred that always seemed to fuel his every word. But now? Now it was something else.

"I don't care," you said, your voice shaky, raw. "I never asked you to care."

There was a long pause before Bakugou finally spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm not letting you get away with this." But there was no conviction behind the words anymore. Only a quiet, underlying frustration. "I'm not letting you ruin everything for yourself."

You didn't understand. You were a villain, a force of destruction. That's what you were built to be. But Bakugou? He was a hero. The kind of hero who would tear apart anyone who threatened the peace.

Except... something had changed. It was in the way he was standing, the way he wasn't shouting at you like he used to. There was no threat in his stance, no confidence in his words.

"I've done things that... I can't undo," you said, voice cracking just the tiniest bit. "I've killed for people. I've hurt so many. And you think—" You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "You think I care about you stopping me? I'm just... trying to survive."

Bakugou stared at you for a long moment, the fire in his gaze flickering as if torn between two realities. His hands curled into fists, but there was no explosion this time. No rage.

"Why?" he finally asked. "Why the hell are you doing this?"

You couldn't look at him. You didn't have an answer for that question. Why did you do what you did? Was it out of desperation? To prove something to yourself? To everyone who ever looked at you like you were nothing more than a tool to be used?

Maybe. Or maybe it was just because you didn't know how else to exist.

But the quiet question hung in the air, and for the first time, it felt like Bakugou wasn't asking because he needed to stop you. He was asking because he cared. And you hated it. You hated how that small part of you that had buried all the pain suddenly wanted to reach out and tell him the truth.

But you couldn't. You'd made too many choices, crossed too many lines.

"You should just let me go," you murmured. "You can't fix me, Katsuki."

A beat of silence passed before Bakugou's voice sliced through the quiet. "I don't give a damn about fixing you," he said, his tone sharper than ever. "But you don't get to walk away like nothing's happened. Not from me."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you almost didn't know what to do with yourself. The world felt heavier, more suffocating.

"Stop," you said, taking a step back, your voice trembling now. "Just stop. I'm not who you think I am. I'm not some damsel in distress. I'm not gonna be saved."

He took a step forward, closing the distance. His eyes never wavered from yours. "Maybe not," he said, his voice softening in a way that felt too personal. "But I don't care. You don't get to destroy everything just because you think you're unworthy."

His hand reached out, hovering just above yours, waiting.

You looked at his hand. You looked at him. And for the first time in a long time, you wondered if maybe you weren't beyond saving.

"Stay," he whispered.

You didn't answer with words. But with the quiet decision in your heart that you weren't running anymore.

+++

masterlist ⟢

more bakugou ⟢

requests ツ

#writer #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou #dynamight #anime and manga #villain reader #villain #villain x hero #hero x villain #heroes and villains #writing tropes

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jjmbbg · 4 months ago

Text

"Yours to lose"

cw: alec mcdowell x fem!reader, flirting, sexual tension, suggestive content, power dynamics, mild roughness, emotional vulnerability (implied).

a.n: the white thingy in the pic was me guys.

(pics from pinterest)

The heat in the room isn't from the weather. You're pretty sure of that—mostly because it's all coming from Alec. He's leaning against the wall, arms crossed like he's got all the time in the world, but his eyes? Locked on you. The kind of gaze that makes your skin prickle, like he's undressing you without lifting a finger.

"You know" he drawls, voice low and smooth, "if you keep looking at me like that, I'm gonna start thinking you want something"

You scoff, but it's weak. Not exactly convincing when you're standing there, wearing his shirt—half-buttoned and entirely too big—while his scent clings to your skin. "Please" you shoot back, stepping closer. "You're the one staring like you're hungry"

A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face. "Can you blame me?" he pushes off the wall, closing the distance in two long strides, and suddenly he’s there—too warm, too solid. His hands find your waist, fingertips teasing along the hem of his shirt. "You're kinda hard to resist"

You raise an eyebrow, amused. "I thought transgenics were supposed to have more self-control, y'know?

Alec laughs, low and rough, and the sound slides down your spine like a caress. "Oh, I've got plenty of control. I just don't feel like using it when you're around" his hands wander, palms trailing along your sides—light, teasing touches that make your breath catch. "What's the fun in holding back, anyway?"

You tilt your head, letting your fingers skate up his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. "And here I thought you were supposed to be a professional. Silly me.

He hums, pretending to consider it. "I'm great at multitasking" one of his hands drifts lower, just barely brushing over your hip. "I could handle you and a mission at the same time. Easy"

"Arrogant much?" but your pulse jumps when his thumb strokes lazy circles against your skin.

"Confident" he corrects, leaning in until his lips hover near your ear. "And you like it"

You do. God, you do—but you're not about to let him win that easily. Your hands slip beneath his shirt, dragging your nails lightly over his stomach, and the way his muscles tense under your touch sends a thrill through you. "What if I wanted to test that control of yours?" you murmur.

Alec's breath hitches—a tiny sound, but enough to make you smile. "That's a dangerous game" he warns, though his grip on you tightens. "You sure you're ready to play?"

"You started it" you remind him, tilting your face up to his, your mouth just a whisper away from his. "I'm just keeping up"

His eyes darken, that teasing edge flickering into something sharper. "Oh, sweetheart" he breathes "I was hoping you'd say that"

His lips find yours—soft at first, coaxing and playful—but it doesn't stay that way for long. You kiss him back just as eagerly, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer until there's no space left between you, tongue exploring his warm oral cavity. He tastes like trouble, like heat and adrenaline, and you don't even care if you're losing the upper hand.

Alec groans against your mouth, and the sound goes straight to your head. "You really know how to mess with a guy" he mutters, but there's no real complaint behind it—not when his hands are wandering again, tracing the shape of your waist, your hips, like he's mapping every inch of you.

You smirk against his lips. "Maybe you're just easy"

"Only for you" he says without missing a beat, and the way he says it—like it's a fact, like it's obvious—makes warmth bloom low in your belly..

His mouth drifts from yours, dragging along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. "You smell good" he murmurs, like he can't help himself. His teeth graze your skin, and your knees go weak.

"That's your shirt" you point out, but your voice is breathier than you mean it to be.

"Still counts" he says, and when he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, there's a wicked gleam in his. "But, if you're feeling generous, I wouldn't mind it on the floor"

You roll your eyes, even as your heart pounds against your ribs. "And you call me the dangerous one"

"Only because you are" he says, and there's something warm and wicked in his smile. "But I'm willing to take the risk"

His hands slide higher beneath the fabric, his touch slow and deliberate—just enough to tease, not nearly enough to satisfy. He's watching you closely, like he wants to see every reaction, and the heat in his gaze makes it impossible to stay still.

"You're stalling" you accuse, even as you arch into his touch.

Alec chuckles softly. "No, sweetheart" he says, voice rougher now, "I'm savoring" he ducks his head, brushing his lips over your collarbone, and your fingers curl tighter in his hair. "You in a hurry?"

You almost want to say yes. It's hard to think straight when he's this close, when every touch leaves you wanting more—but you know him well enough to realize that giving in now means letting him win. And where's the fun in that?

So instead, you let your hand trail down his chest—slow, teasing—until your fingers hook in his belt. "I don't know" you muse, meeting his gaze with a smirk. "Think you can keep up?"

The challenge lights something fierce in his eyes. "Sweetheart" he murmurs, leaning in until his lips brush yours again "I can do this all day"

And from the way his hands slide lower, the way his touch lingers and burns, you're pretty sure he means it.

You shift against him, feeling the heat of his body pressing you into the wall. It's as though every inch of space between you just ignites when your skin touches his. The way his fingers trail up your spine, light but persistent, makes your breath hitch, and you can't help but lean into him, your body betraying the little act of resistance you tried to hold onto.

"You're awful" you whisper, though the words lose their sting as soon as they leave your lips.

Alec doesn't respond right away. Instead, he runs his thumb over the back of your neck, a soft but electrifying touch that makes you shiver. "I know" he murmurs, voice thick with satisfaction. "But you wouldn’t have it any other way, would you?"

You bite your lip, trying to fight the rush of warmth spreading through you. "I don't know" you tease, pretending to act aloof, but the way you can't stop your hands from slipping under his shirt gives you away. "Maybe you're just getting lucky"

His smirk widens, and before you can blink, his hands are under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as if you weigh nothing at all. He presses you back against the wall, his lips brushing against yours in a near kiss, but pulling away just enough to keep you guessing. You whine at the lack of contact, your body already aching for more.

"You don't play fair" you manage, your voice breathless.

His hands slide down to your hips, his fingers digging in just a little too hard to be completely innocent, but you don't mind. "You love it" he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

And maybe it is. The way he touches you, the way his lips trace the line of your jaw with that devil-may-care attitude—it all makes you want to surrender completely. But you don't. Not yet. There's something about the way you can push his buttons and make him lose his cool that excites you, and you're not ready to give up that power just yet.

Not when his breath is so close to your ear, when his hands are so dangerously close to where you want them most, when his lips brush against your skin, making you burn with want.

You tilt your head back against the wall, giving him better access, your hands trailing down his chest once more, over the hard planes of his body, until you stop right at the waistband of his jeans. Alec sucks in a breath, his muscles tightening under your touch, but he doesn't stop you.

"You're teasing me" he says, his voice rough with the restraint he's clearly trying to hold onto.

"Wouldn't dream of it" you murmur, your fingers working at his belt buckle, slipping the leather through its loops. It's like a game, the way he's holding back, the way you're both trying to get the other to crack first.

He watches, eyes dark, his gaze a constant pull that makes your heart race. "Careful" he warns, his hands gripping your waist tighter. "You don't wanna make me lose control"

You smirk, leaning in close again, your lips brushing over his ear as you whisper, "I think I'd like to see you try"

The challenge is enough to make Alec growl, a low, dangerous sound that sends a thrill through you. His hands slide up to your ribs, pulling you even closer, until your bodies are pressed together so tightly you can feel every inch of him. The heat between you is almost unbearable, and you can't help but grind against him, testing just how much control he really has left.

He stifles a moan, but only just, his lips crashing to yours with a hunger you can't ignore. The kiss is hard, desperate, and it leaves you breathless. When he pulls back, there's a gleam in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine.

"You're playing with fire, sweetheart" he warns, though the way his hands slide lower, the way his mouth traces the curve of your neck, tells you he's far from objecting.

You don't care. You want him too much.

"Then let's burn" you say with a wicked grin, pulling his shirt over his head with an impatient tug. His hands are all over you, pulling at the fabric of your clothes, his fingers brushing against your skin like a spark to dry tinder.

Before you can blink, he has you in his arms again, and the world seems to narrow down to just the two of you, the weight of his body pressing against yours, the heat building between you as if nothing else matters but the pull of his touch.

Alec's lips are on yours again, fierce and demanding, but there's something else—something deeper in the way he kisses you now. Like he's not just teasing, not just playing games, but pulling you into something that's beyond just the moment. It's dangerous, but it feels right. It feels like home, like there's nowhere else you'd rather be than caught in the web of his arms, his kisses, his touch.

You grip his shoulders, your nails digging into the muscle there, and pull him closer, your hips pressing against his as if your body is begging for more. Alec groans, low and raw, his hands moving to explore, to claim, but he's still holding back, still waiting for you to make the first move.

"Make me yours" you whisper between kisses, and the words are almost too much to say aloud, but they slip out anyway, because right now, in this moment, you can't imagine holding back any longer.

His eyes flash, and before you know it, your clothes are gone, scattered across the room in a hurry to feel skin on skin. The way he looks at you now is a promise of a long, really long night.

#alec mcdowell #alec mcdowell x reader #alec mcdowell drabble #alec mcdowell post #alec mcdowell x you #dark angel #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #drabble #supernatural

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