#HOW DARE YOU 💜✨💜✨💜✨ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lila-lou · 8 months ago

Text

✨Taking her in - Pt. 5✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Underage Reader, Language

Word Count: 6736

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💜

The date had gone far better than you ever could have anticipated. Jake turned out to be not just nice but genuinely thoughtful and respectful. He was in his early twenties, and you learned that he had recently come out of a long-term relationship, which explained his maturity and the way he approached things. He made it clear that he wasn’t interested in one-night stands and that he just wanted to get to know you better, which put you at ease. It was refreshing to be around someone who didn’t seem to have any hidden agendas, who was just enjoying spending time with you.

Midway through the evening, after the movie, Jake had offered to take you home, but you politely declined, mentioning that one of your “roommates”, who you explained were like brothers to you, would be picking you up. Jake didn’t push the issue and seemed to respect your boundaries completely. After the movie, he suggested going to a nearby diner for some food and milkshakes, and you agreed, thinking it would be a nice way to end the evening.

Now, you were in the restroom of the diner, having just finished dinner, while Jake waited at the table for the milkshakes to arrive. Your nerves were fluttering, but not in a bad way. The whole date had left you feeling giddy, your head buzzing from the attention Jake had given you. He had been a perfect gentleman, and the way he looked at you made you feel… noticed, in a way that was new and exciting.

Standing in front of the mirror, you smoothed down your dress and took a deep breath. The evening had been wonderful, but there was one more thing you needed to do before it ended. You pulled out your phone and dialed Dean’s number, your heart racing as you listened to it ring.

Dean had been lying on his bed at the bunker, attempting to distract himself with a movie, but his mind kept drifting back to you. The last three hours had been torture, his thoughts consumed with wondering how your date was going. He kept picturing you with Jake—laughing, talking, maybe even kissing—and the thought of you letting that guy get closer to you in ways he had only dared to imagine made his heart race with a mix of jealousy and anxiety.

Every time his mind wandered too far down that path, he forced himself to focus on the movie, but it was no use. The idea of you with someone else, someone who wasn’t him, gnawed at him relentlessly. He knew he had no right to feel this way, that he should be happy for you, but the feelings were there, simmering just beneath the surface.

When his phone buzzed and your name popped up on the screen, his heart skipped a beat. The first thought that flashed through his mind was relief—at least you were calling, which meant things hadn’t gone too far. But almost immediately, a darker thought crept in. What if something had happened? What if Jake had crossed a line or if you were in trouble?

Dean sat up quickly, his heart pounding as he answered the call. “Hey, you okay?”, he asked, trying to keep the panic out of his voice but failing slightly.

“Hey, Dean”, you replied, and he could hear the lightness in your voice, the giddiness that told him things were okay, maybe even great. “Yeah, I’m fine. The date’s going really well, actually. We’re just finishing up some milkshakes at a diner, and I was wondering if you or Sam could pick me up in about thirty minutes?”.

Dean let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, relief flooding through him. “Yeah, of course”, he said, his voice a little steadier now. “I can come get you. Where are you guys?”.

You gave him the address, and he noted it down, his mind already shifting gears. The thought of seeing you again, of making sure you got home safe, calmed the storm of emotions that had been raging inside him all evening.

“Great, I’ll see you in a bit then”, you said, and there was a warmth in your voice that made Dean’s chest tighten in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“See you soon”, Dean replied, trying to sound casual, but there was an undeniable sense of urgency in his tone. He hung up the phone and took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he tried to calm the conflicting emotions swirling inside him.

As he grabbed his jacket and headed out to the Impala, another thought crossed his mind—what if Jake had really gotten to you tonight? What if you’d let your guard down, and things had gone further than he was ready to accept? The idea made his stomach churn with a mix of protectiveness and something darker, something he didn’t want to admit to himself.

Dean pushed those thoughts aside as he started the Impala and pulled out of the bunker’s garage. He needed to focus on getting to you, on making sure you were safe and sound. Everything else could wait.

As he drove toward the diner, Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that things were changing—between the two of you—and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for what that might mean. But for now, he’d put those feelings on hold.

Dean pulled up in front of the diner, his heart pounding in his chest as he spotted you and Jake standing off to the side. The way you were both smiling, clearly enjoying each other’s company, made something twist painfully in his gut. He watched from the car as you leaned in to hug Jake, his hand lingering on yours as you started to pull away. Dean’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

Jake stepped closer to you, and Dean felt his breath catch in his throat. His mind raced with all the things he wanted to do—march over there, drag you away, anything to keep that guy from getting any closer. But he knew he couldn’t. This was your moment, your choice, and as much as it killed him, he had to let it happen.

Dean’s eyes narrowed as Jake gently cupped your face, leaning in closer. For a split second, Dean was sure he was going to lose it, his stomach churning at the thought of seeing you kiss someone else. But then, instead of kissing your lips, Jake placed a soft kiss on your cheek, making you shiver and smile brightly.

Dean’s chest tightened at the sight, a mix of relief and jealousy flooding through him. The way you smiled after that kiss, so genuine and happy, made it clear that you had enjoyed the night. And as much as Dean wanted to be happy for you, it only made the ache in his chest worse.

“Bye, (Y/N)”, Jake said, his voice warm and sincere. “Hope I’ll see you soon”.

You nodded, your smile still bright as you replied, “Yeah, I’d like that”.

Jake gave your hand one last squeeze before stepping back, giving you space to turn and walk toward the Impala. Dean watched you the entire time, his heart racing as you approached the car. When you finally reached the passenger door and opened it, he tried to compose himself, forcing a neutral expression onto his face.

“Hey”, you said softly as you slid into the seat, your cheeks still flushed with excitement.

“Hey”, Dean replied, his voice steady, though there was a tightness to it. “Had a good time?”.

You nodded, your smile still lingering as you buckled your seatbelt. “Yeah, I did. Jake’s really sweet”.

Dean nodded, though he couldn’t bring himself to say anything more about Jake. Instead, he just shifted the car into drive, pulling away from the diner.

As you rolled down the window, letting the cool night air wash over your flushed face, you tried to calm the fluttering in your stomach. The night had gone so well, better than you could have imagined, and you were still processing everything that had happened. The breeze helped a little, but your mind was still buzzing with the memory of Jake’s gentle kiss on your cheek and the warmth of his hand in yours.

Dean glanced over at you, biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep his emotions in check. The way you looked—flushed, a little dazed, with that smile still playing on your lips—was driving him crazy. He couldn’t stand the silence any longer, couldn’t handle not knowing what had happened between you and Jake.

“Something happen?”, Dean finally asked, his voice tight with barely concealed tension. He kept his eyes on the road, but his whole body was tense, as if bracing himself for an impact. He was afraid of your answer, but at the same time, he needed to hear it. He needed to know what he was up against, what had changed between you and this guy who had managed to make you look so damn happy.

You hesitated, not because you wanted to hide anything, but because you were still trying to sort through your own feelings. “Well”, you started slowly, your fingers playing with the hem of your dress. “Jake was really sweet tonight. He…he kissed me on the cheek when we said goodbye”.

A kiss on the cheek. It was innocent, sweet—exactly what he should have expected from a guy like Jake. But even that was enough to make something twist painfully inside him.

“Just on the cheek?”, Dean asked, trying to keep his tone casual, though it was clear he was struggling to do so.

“Yeah”, you replied, nodding. “Just on the cheek. He was really respectful. We talked a lot, and he didn’t try to push anything. He was… I don’t know, different from what I expected”.

Dean nodded, though he didn’t say anything for a moment. He was relieved that it hadn’t gone further, that you hadn’t done anything more intimate. But the knowledge that someone else was making you feel special, that someone else was getting close to you in ways he hadn’t, was eating him alive.

“That’s good”, Dean finally said, though his voice was tight. “Sounds like he’s a decent guy”.

You glanced over at him, noticing the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders were hunched slightly. “Dean, are you okay?”.

He forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all”.

You smiled at that, touched by his concern. “I’m okay, Dean. Really. Thanks for asking”.

Dean nodded again, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that things were changing between you, that you were slipping through his fingers in a way he wasn’t prepared for. And that scared him more than anything else.

As you and Dean walked into the bunker, the familiar warmth of the place was comforting, but it did little to calm the nerves still fluttering in your chest. The evening had been a whirlwind of emotions, and you were still processing everything that had happened.

Inside, Sam and Jody were sitting at the library table, both looking up as you entered. Jody had come to visit to discuss a case near her home with Sam, and they had been deep in conversation, but the sight of you and Dean caught their attention immediately.

Sam’s face lit up with a teasing grin, and Jody wasn’t far behind, her smile warm and welcoming. “How’d the date go?”, Sam asked, his tone playful. Jody echoed the question, clearly just as curious, her eyes sparkling with interest.

Dean, who had been walking beside you, immediately veered off toward the corner of the room where he kept his stash of whiskey. He didn’t say a word as he poured himself a glass, the tension in his shoulders evident as he took a long, deliberate sip. The thought of hearing you recount the details of your date once again was more than he could handle sober.

You couldn’t help but blush at the attention, but there was a part of you that was happy to share. The date had gone so well, and you were still riding the high of it. “It was really nice”, you said, smiling shyly as you sat down across from Jody. “Jake was great. We went to see a movie, and then he took me to a diner for dinner”.

Sam raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair as he folded his arms across his chest. “And? Any sparks?”.

Dean’s grip on his glass tightened, but he kept his gaze focused on the amber liquid, taking another sip to keep himself from saying something he might regret.

You hesitated, your cheeks growing warmer as you fumbled with your words. “I… I don’t know… I mean… maybe”, you whispered, the uncertainty in your voice clear. You weren’t entirely sure what you were feeling, but the night had definitely left you with a lot to think about.

Dean, still standing by his whiskey stash, emptied his glass in one long gulp. The burn of the alcohol did little to ease the growing tension inside him. Without a word, he refilled his glass, his movements a bit more deliberate this time, as if he were trying to focus on the task to keep his thoughts in check.

Jody leaned forward, her smile soft and understanding. “It’s okay not to know right away. First dates can be complicated, and it’s all about getting a feel for each other”. She glanced over at Sam, who was watching the whole exchange with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

Sam gave you an encouraging nod. “Yeah, there’s no rush. Just take your time, figure out how you feel. If it’s meant to be, you’ll know”.

You nodded, appreciating their support, but your mind kept drifting back to Dean, who was conspicuously quiet. You could feel the tension rolling off him in waves, and it made you uneasy. You glanced over at him, catching the way his jaw was clenched, the way he was avoiding looking at you or anyone else in the room.

Jody, ever perceptive and quick to lighten the mood, glanced at Dean and couldn’t resist a tease. “Dean, you should stop playing the worried dad. She’s a big girl; she can handle herself”. She winked at you, trying to ease the tension she sensed in the room.

Dean forced a tight-lipped smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He knew Jody was just trying to lighten the mood, but the words hit too close to home in ways she couldn’t possibly understand. It wasn’t just worry gnawing at him, and it sure as hell wasn’t anything paternal. A dad wouldn’t feel the burn of jealousy deep in his gut, wouldn’t have the irrational urge to keep you from dating anyone else. A dad wouldn’t be fighting the overwhelming desire to kiss you, to claim you in ways he knew were wrong, to protect you not just from the dangers of the world but from any man who might take you away from him.

He downed the rest of his whiskey, the burn of the alcohol barely registering as the emotions he was trying so hard to suppress threatened to bubble over. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to face the truth of what he was feeling, but it was becoming harder and harder to deny.

“Come on, Dean, lighten up. She had a good time, that’s what matters”.

Dean’s grip tightened around his empty glass. He could feel the weight of your gaze on him, the unspoken questions hanging in the air between you. He knew he needed to say something, to offer you some kind of reassurance, but the words wouldn’t come. He was too afraid that if he opened his mouth, everything he’d been holding back would come spilling out.

Instead, he just nodded, forcing another smile that felt more like a grimace. “Yeah, you’re right”, he muttered, his voice rough. “That’s what matters”.

But even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t enough. The jealousy, the possessiveness, the desire—it was all still there, simmering just below the surface, threatening to spill over at any moment. And the worst part was, he had no idea how to make it stop.

Sam, sensing the tension in his brother, shot him a concerned look but didn’t press the issue. Instead, he turned his attention back to you, trying to keep the conversation going. “So, are you going to see Jake again?”.

You hesitated, your mind still on Dean and the strange vibe you were getting from him. “I’m not sure yet”, you said softly. “I guess I’ll see how I feel in a few days”.

Jody nodded, clearly satisfied with your answer. “That’s a good approach. No need to rush into anything”.

One week later, the tension that had lingered between you and Dean had lessened slightly, but it was still there, a quiet undercurrent in every interaction. Dean had been acting a bit odd, more distant than usual, but he wasn’t as on edge as he had been right after your date with Jake. Still, something felt unresolved, like there was an unspoken conversation hanging between you that neither of you was ready to have.

Sam had gone off with Jody to work on a case, leaving you and Dean alone in the bunker. The day had been uneventful, with Dean spending most of it working on the Impala, a six-pack of beer keeping him company as he tinkered away. You knew that when Dean worked on the car all day, especially with that much beer involved, it usually meant he was trying to work something out in his head. He wasn’t one to talk about his feelings, but his actions often spoke louder than words.

As evening fell, you found yourself pacing in your room, nerves fluttering in your stomach. There was something you needed to ask Dean, something that had been on your mind ever since that conversation in the car a week ago. You didn’t know how he would react, and the thought of it made your heart race. But you also knew you couldn’t keep avoiding it, couldn’t keep pretending like everything was normal when it wasn’t. It was naive and so fucking stupid, but you wanted to do it anyways. You had to.

Dean had just come out of the shower, the steam still clinging to the air in the hallway as he moved back to his room to get dressed. You could hear the faint rustling of clothes as he rummaged through his drawers, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your own heart.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you walked over to his door and knocked softly. The sound seemed to echo in the quiet hallway, and for a moment, you wondered if you should just walk away, pretend like you hadn’t come to his door with this burning question in your mind. But before you could second-guess yourself, Dean’s voice came from the other side, a little rough around the edges from the beer and exhaustion.

“Yeah? Come in”.

You hesitated for a split second before pushing the door open, stepping into his room. Dean was standing by the bed, shirtless, his jeans half-buttoned as he looked up at you with a curious expression. His hair was still damp from the shower, droplets of water clinging to his skin, and the room smelled faintly of his soap and aftershave.

“Hey”, you greeted him softly, trying to keep your voice steady. Your eyes flicked to his bare chest for a moment before you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “Do.. uh.. do you have a minute? There’s something I wanted to talk to you about”.

Dean raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued, but there was also a slight wariness in his eyes. He could tell this wasn’t just a casual conversation. “Sure”, he said, finishing buttoning up his jeans before grabbing a t-shirt from the bed and pulling it over his head. “What’s on your mind?”.

You hesitated for a long moment, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks as you prepared yourself to say what you’d come here for. This was one of the most nerve-wracking things you’d ever done, and the last thing you wanted was for Dean to think you were being silly. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you needed to do this, needed to know where you stood before your date with Jake tomorrow.

“I… I think I need you to sit”, you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked anywhere but directly at him.

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion, but he could see how serious you were, how much this seemed to mean to you. “Alright”, he said softly, moving over to the bed and sitting down on the edge, his gaze fixed on you. “What’s going on?”.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. The room felt too small, the air too thick, but you pressed on. “I have another date with Jake tomorrow”, you began, your voice shaky. “And I… I’m kind of freaking out about it”.

Dean’s expression softened at your words, his protectiveness instantly kicking in. “Hey, it’s just a date”, he said gently, trying to reassure you. “I told you, you don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for”.

You nodded quickly, appreciating his concern, but that wasn’t exactly what was on your mind. “I know, I know”, you replied, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “But it’s just… well, there’s something I’m really nervous about, and I didn’t know who else to ask”.

Dean’s concern deepened, but he stayed quiet, waiting for you to continue.

You took another deep breath, trying to push through your embarrassment. “I wanted to know if… if I’m any good at… kissing”, you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt strange and heavy in your mouth, and your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

Dean blinked, completely taken aback by your request. Of all the things he’d expected you to say, this wasn’t even remotely close. “You want to know if you’re… good at kissing?”, he repeated, clearly trying to process what you were asking.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. The vulnerability in your eyes was unmistakable, and Dean could see just how much this meant to you. “I just want to know… if I’m any good at it”, you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I don’t want to mess up with Jake. I just… I want to be sure”.

Dean’s mind was racing. He’d faced down monsters, demons, and all manner of supernatural threats, but nothing had prepared him for this. You, standing in front of him, asking him for such a thing —it was the last thing he ever expected, and it was stirring up emotions he didn’t know how to handle.

He wanted to protect you, to be the person you could rely on. But this? This felt like crossing a line, like stepping into territory that was dangerous for both of you.

Dean struggled to find the right words, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind of emotions. This situation was so far beyond anything he’d ever anticipated, and it left him feeling completely out of his depth. You had always been like family to him—like a little sister or even a daughter in some ways.

He knew this was dangerous territory.

How could the two of you ever face each other after this? How could he look at you the same way when his mind was already racing with thoughts he had no business entertaining?

Dean swallowed hard, trying to push down the turmoil inside him. He needed to be strong, needed to be the protector you’d always relied on, not someone who complicated things by letting his emotions get the better of him.

“This is crazy”, Dean finally managed to say, his voice thick with hesitation. He looked at you, seeing the vulnerability in your eyes, and it only made it harder for him to keep his composure. “I mean, you’re like… you’re like family to me, you know? This is… this is a damn stupid idea Y/N”.

You bit your lip, uncertainty flickering across your face. “I know it’s weird”, you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I trust you, Dean. And I just… I don’t know who else to ask”.

He could feel the weight of your words pressing down on him, every instinct telling him to stop this before it went any further. But the vulnerability in your eyes, the trust you were placing in him, made it nearly impossible for him to turn you down. He wanted to protect you, to be the person you could rely on, but that same instinct was pushing him toward a line he knew he shouldn’t cross.

You seemed to sense his hesitation, and you took a step closer, your voice soft, almost pleading. “Dean, please… I won’t tell anybody”, you mumbled, your eyes earnest and filled with a mix of hope and uncertainty. “This absolutely doesn’t mean anything. I just… I need to know, and I don’t know who else to ask. We don’t ever have to talk about it again, I promise”.

Dean clenched his jaw, his mind a chaotic swirl of emotions. He knew you meant well, that you weren’t trying to complicate things, but the simple fact was that this already was complicated. He wanted to tell you no, to protect both of you from what could happen if he gave in to your request, but the way you were looking at him—so desperate for reassurance—made it incredibly hard to deny you.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as he tried to push down the conflicting feelings inside him. When he opened them again, you were still standing there, your expression so open, so trusting, that it made his chest ache. “You really don’t get it, do you?”, Dean said quietly, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and something else.

You looked at him, confused by his words. “Get what?”.

Dean shook his head slightly, not sure how to explain the turmoil he was feeling without revealing too much. “This isn’t just about practice, okay? Kissing… it’s not just some technical thing you can get better at with a little help. It’s… it’s emotional. It means something, even if you don’t want it to”.

You opened your mouth to argue, but Dean held up a hand, stopping you. “I get that you’re nervous, and I get that you want to be ready for your date with Jake, but this… you and me… it’s different. I don’t want to mess things up between us”.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to convince him. “Dean, I’m not asking you to make this more than it is. I just… I need to know that I’m not going to embarrass myself, that I’m not going to mess up. And you’re the only person I trust enough to ask”.

Dean’s resolve wavered as he listened to you. He knew you weren’t trying to complicate things, that you genuinely just wanted his help, but the feelings he’d been trying to keep buried were threatening to spill over.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to steady himself. This was a moment he never imagined he’d find himself in—a moment where he had to balance his protective instincts with feelings he wasn’t ready to fully confront. He knew this could change everything, that crossing this line could complicate things between you in ways he wasn’t sure he could handle. But the trust in your eyes, the way you were looking at him like he was the only one who could help you, made it impossible to refuse.

The minutes streched.

“Alright”, he mumbled eventually, his voice barely above a whisper. He opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours, filled with a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite hide. “C’mere”, he nodded towards the spot beside him on the bed, his heart pounding in his chest.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the gravity of what you were about to do.

For Dean, this was about so much more than just a kiss. He knew deep down that it was wrong, so fucking wrong—wrong to blur the lines between protector and something more, wrong to let himself indulge in feelings he had tried so hard to bury. Just so fucking wrong. But a part of him, a part he wasn’t proud of, was desperate to know if this would be enough to finally shake the hold those feelings had on him. Maybe, just maybe, if he allowed himself this one moment, he could get it out of his system and go back to being the version of himself that you needed him to be. He was stupid. As stupid as your idea.

You slowly inched closer, your heart pounding so loudly in your chest that you were sure Dean could hear it. The tension in the room was thick, almost suffocating, but you pushed through it, trying to keep your mind focused on the reason you’d come to him in the first place. For three long years, you had dreamed about this moment, imagined what it would be like to be this close to Dean, to feel his breath on your skin. But now, with the reality of it staring you in the face, your mind was a mess of conflicting emotions.

You told yourself that you were doing this so you wouldn’t mess up things with Jake, that this was just a practical step to make sure you were prepared. But deep down, in a place you weren’t quite ready to face, you knew there was more to it.

This wasn’t about Jake.

It was about the feelings you’d been harboring for Dean all this time, feelings that you had tried to push aside, to ignore, but that had only grown stronger the more you were around him.

As you sat down beside him on the bed, the proximity made everything feel more intense. Your knees brushed against his, and you felt a shiver run through you, a mixture of nerves and something else—something that made your stomach flip and your breath catch in your throat. You glanced up at Dean, noticing the way his eyes were darker than usual, his expression conflicted.

Dean was trying so hard to stay in control, to keep his thoughts from straying. But the second you sat down beside him, so close that he could feel the warmth of your body, he knew he was in trouble. This wasn’t just a simple kiss for practice—this was everything he had been trying to deny for years, everything he had buried deep down so that he could be the friend you needed, not the man who wanted more than he should.

Dean’s heart pounded in his chest, the weight of what was about to happen pressing down on him. The room felt too small, the air thick with tension, and he struggled to keep his emotions in check. You were so close, your presence overwhelming, and every rational part of his mind was screaming at him to stop, to step away before he crossed a line he couldn’t uncross.

He took a deep breath, his voice quiet and tinged with hesitation as he finally spoke. “(Y/N), are you… are you really, really sure about this?”. His gaze searched yours, looking for any sign of doubt, any indication that you might not want to go through with this after all.

The truth was, he wasn’t asking just for your sake. He was asking for himself too. Because once this happened, once he gave in to the temptation of your lips, he wasn’t sure if he could ever go back to the way things were. The feelings he had kept buried for so long were threatening to spill over, and if you gave him the green light, he knew there was no turning back.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and filled with a mix of nervousness and determination. “I’m sure, Dean”, you whispered, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. “I trust you”.

Again. Those damn words. They hit him like a punch to the gut. You trusted him, and he didn’t want to betray that trust. But the way you were looking at him, the way your eyes held his, made it impossible for him to walk away. He knew in that moment that he couldn’t deny you, couldn’t deny himself, even if it meant complicating everything between you.

His breath hitched at your words, the weight of them settling heavily in his chest. The room seemed to shrink even further, the air between you charged with a tension so palpable it was almost suffocating.

His hand was gently cradling your cheek, and he could feel the heat of your skin beneath his fingertips, the subtle tremor that betrayed your own nerves. Despite your words, he could sense the same mix of anticipation and fear that was churning inside him. This was a moment of no return, a step into uncharted territory for both of you.

Slowly, deliberately, Dean leaned in closer, his heart hammering in his chest as his resolve began to crumble. He was a breath away from your lips, close enough to feel the warmth of your breath mingling with his, but he paused, giving you one last chance to pull back, to stop this before it began.

But you didn’t. Instead, you closed the gap between you, your lips brushing softly against his in a tentative, almost hesitant kiss. The contact was light, feather-soft, but it sent a shockwave through Dean that he wasn’t prepared for. The years of buried feelings, of unspoken desires, surged to the surface, overwhelming him with their intensity.

He deepened the kiss, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. There was a gentle pressure in the way his lips moved against yours, a cautious exploration as if he was trying to memorize the feel of you, to commit this moment to memory. His other hand came up to rest on your waist, the warmth of your body seeping through the fabric of your shirt and into his palm.

Your lips were soft and warm against his, and he could taste the faint hint of whatever lip balm you’d applied earlier, a sweet, subtle flavor that made his heart ache with something he couldn’t quite name. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this moment, this connection that felt both right and so, so wrong.

Your hands came up to rest on his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if to steady yourself. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms, a rhythm that matched your own racing pulse. The kiss was everything you’d imagined it would be and more—tender, intense, filled with a depth of emotion that you hadn’t expected.

Dean could feel your inexperience in the way you kissed him, the way your lips moved tentatively against his, searching for a rhythm that matched his. It only made the moment more poignant, more charged with meaning. This wasn’t just about practice, not anymore. This was something deeper, something that had been building between you for far longer than either of you had been willing to admit.

The kiss deepened, the gentle pressure of Dean’s lips against yours becoming more insistent, more urgent. The heat between you intensified, a fire that seemed to grow with every passing second. You could feel the warmth pooling between your legs, a sensation that was becoming almost overwhelming, a stark contrast to the tender, slow rhythm of the kiss.

Dean’s scruff brushed against your face, the sensation both rough and tantalizing. It made your skin tingle, adding a new layer of sensation to the already charged moment. You could feel a slickness between your thighs, a sign of the arousal that had been building since the start of this intimate connection. It was unfamiliar and intense, and it sent waves of both excitement and anxiety through you.

Dean, on the other hand, felt a painful tightness in his jeans. The physical reaction was impossible to ignore, a stark reminder of the line he was crossing. Yet, despite the discomfort, he found himself unable to pull away. The kiss was consuming him, the taste of you, the feel of your lips moving tentatively but eagerly against his, igniting a primal part of him that was difficult to control.

As you felt the heat between you intensify, you dared to gently press your tongue against Dean’s lower lip, a tentative but clear invitation. The movement was slow, almost experimental, as if you were testing the waters of this new and thrilling connection.

Dean’s reaction was immediate and intense. He gasped slightly at the touch, his breath hitching as his body responded to the added intimacy. He couldn’t ignore the surge of desire that coursed through him, the way your tongue against his lip ignited a fire that seemed to burn away any remaining doubts he might have had.

His hand on your waist tightened, pulling you closer as he opened his mouth slightly, giving you access. His own tongue met yours in a slow, exploratory dance, each movement filled with a mixture of longing and caution. The kiss deepened, becoming a complex interplay of sensations that both of you were navigating together.

As the kiss deepened even more, you instinctively pressed your thighs together, the growing warmth and intensity between your legs becoming impossible to ignore. Your hands, trembling slightly with a mix of nerves and excitement, slowly reached up to cradle the back of Dean’s neck, fingers tangling in the damp strands of his hair. The connection between you was electric, each touch and movement intensifying the charged atmosphere in the room.

But just as the moment seemed to spiral into something more, reality hit Dean like a freight train. The weight of what was happening, of what it could mean for both of you, came crashing down on him. His protective instincts, which had been momentarily overwhelmed by desire, surged back to the forefront. This wasn’t just a kiss—it was a step that would change everything.

Dean’s breath hitched, and with a mixture of regret and determination, he carefully grabbed your face, his hands trembling slightly as he guided your head away from his. He needed to stop this, to bring both of you back from the edge before it was too late.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 6

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @ladykitana90 @fullbelieverheart @chainsawsangel @zaratahir @rebecca-hvnstn @maackiimoo @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @lachelledavies-winchester @kamisobsessed @kr804573

#jensen ackles #dean and sam #dean and cas #dean winchester fic #dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #taking her in

303 notes · View notes

m-musings · 6 months ago

Note

Hi! I just found your blog and love your Overwatch content! I was wondering if I could request something?

The Overwatch boys specifically genji,reaper and ramattra with a s/o who gets injured while working on a mission or something? As how they react/what their actions are..

If you don’t like this please feel free to ignore!

I hope you have a nice day!

-💜✨

Headcanons: Genji, Reaper & Ramattra with Injured! S/O

A/N: protective overwatch boys are my shit!!!!!

Word Count:925 Warnings/ Other Notes: mentions of various injuries, ooc reaper and rammatra, terrible google translate japanese.

Genji:

The first time you got injured haunts Genji's mind rather often.

It was after a fierce battle with Null Sector forces, during which You and Genji had been separated.

As he slashed at every enemy in sight, he could see you getting pushed further and further away.

He tried to make his way to you but you warned him otherwise.

"(Y/n), hold on!"

"I'll be fine! Just go, I'll find you later!"

With a simple nod of his head, he watch as you disappeared from sight.

Once he had won the fight a few minutes later, he sheathed his sword and rushed off to try and find you.

After searching for a while, he finally saw you, lying immobile on the ground surrounded by piles of rubble and deactivated Null Troopers.

With a quiet gasp coming from his lips, Genji dashed over to help you.

Falling to his knees as he approached, he gingerly lifted your battered body into his lap.

"No, no, no! (Y/n), please wake up!" The ninja called fearfully as he tried to gently shake you awake.

When he received no response from you, he called Tracer to have her bring the ship as fast as she could.

Once Lena arrived, she helped him get you on board and fly you to Watchpoint Gibraltar, where Mercy was waiting to bring you to the medical bay.

As she worked to heal your injuries, Genji sat outside of the room, sharpening his blade in attempt to distract himself from your condition.

When he got the all clear to go in and see you, he sighed in relief as he saw you, a bit groggy but awake and alive.

"Thank god, I thought I'd never see you again."

"Heh, it'll take more than a basic beatdown to get rid of me. Plus, you saved me in the end, that helped."

You chuckle as you try to sit up, but when you groan in pain, Genji shushes you and urges you to lay back down.

"Rest for now, shin'ainaru koibito. I'll be right here when you awake."

Your tired eyes flutter closed in response as you mutter out an answer.

"Alright... thank you, Gen. I love you..."

"Watashi mo itoshite iru yo."

Reaper:

When you get hurt, Gabriel's vision goes red.

He's immediately shadow stepping over to where you lie injured and slaughtering all those who dared to try and harm you.

Once they've all fallen, he's picking you up and taking you back to the Talon transport.

After setting you down in the ships exam room, Gabe quietly growls to himself before going to finish the mission with the other operatives.

As soon as it's over and a medic has stabilized your vitals, he's stomping into the room, angry at himself that he let you get hit.

With his mask in hand, he tries to ignore all the machines hooked up to you as he silently watches over you.

Pacing around the other side of the room, his usually harsh glare softens as he sees you stir.

Reaper strides over to you, carefully placing a cold hand on your cheek as your eyes slowly open.

"Gabe?... Where... what- what happened?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle. You were pretty worse for the wear, though."

As he thinks back to you collapsed on the floor, Gabriel's brows furrow slightly.

"I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner, (Y/n)."

You whisper out a calming shush as you shakily place your hand upon his arm.

"Hey, you got there in the end. That's what matters. You saved me..."

As you place a kiss upon his palm, he blesses you with a rare but soft and genuine smile.

"Yeah, well, you're the only one I can tolerate around here. I'd go crazy if I didn't have you with me anymore."

Ramattra:

• Never in his life did Ramattra think he would care about the wellbeing of a human, but here he is.

• He's in his nemesis form, fighting fiercely while decimating anyone in his way.

• With you passed out in his arms covered in cuts and bruises, he defends you from any incoming blows as he rushes away.

• After his current attack on a city had gone awry, he was forced to pull his army out when he saw the condition you were in.

• While barking out orders to his troops, he glances down at you to analyze your condition with his scanners.

• Once Ramattra confirms that you're still alive, he runs even faster back to his airship in order to get you the treatment that you need.

• When the two of you return to Null Sector headquarters, he's immediately taking you to your shared room to let you recuperate.

• He busies himself with various tasks, impatiently waiting for the first sign of consciousness from you.

• Later that night, he is pulled from his work when he hears a small groan escape your lips.

• Ramattra instantly rushes over to you as your eye begin to peel open, causing you to glance in his direction.

• "Ram... it hurts."

• "I know, pet, I know... You were hurt in the fight. But you're here now and safe with me. That's what's important."

• He carefully grabs your hand before placing his faceplate on the back of it in an affectionate gesture.

• You sigh gratefully as you let his hand go to place your arms around his neck, making him lean into your warmth.

• "Thank you, Ramattra... Don't know what I'd do without you."

• "I couldn't bear it either, my darling (Y/n). You are forever in my heart and mind."

#headcanon #overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch imagines #genji shimada x reader #reaper x reader #gabriel reyes x reader #ramattra x reader

114 notes · View notes

victiamai · 10 months ago

Text

Tokyo Revengers Interactions - Part 2(motorcycle rides and other things)

⚠️Inappropriate language and some obscenities ⚠️

🦋Visit me on Instagram 🦋

✨Personal Instagram: @vic_m.d✨

✨Arts Instagram: @vic_tia_mai ✨

⚠️English is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes in this story ⚠️

💋Female reader 💋

💜Happy reading! 💜

⭐ characters: Hakkai Shiba, Takemichi Hanagaki, Chifuyu Matsuno, Shuji Hanma, Takashi Mitsuya, Souya Kawata (Angry), Nahoya Kawata (Smiley), South Terano (Bonus)⭐

Hakkai Shiba:

•He's trying to overcome his shyness around you. But even so, he can't stop blushing when you hug his waist.

•Motorcycle rides are frequent.

•He was taking you to your parents' house.

•You slowly got off when he stopped the bike. You hugged his neck or kissed him. "Are you sure you don't want to stay, my love?" You asked looking into his eyes. "I'm sorry princess, I really can't today... Gang stuff..." You made him promise to stay next time.

•You kissed him one more time and he left on the motorcycle.

Takemichi Hanagaki:

•Your idiot childhood best friend Hanagaki Takemichi

•You almost regretted asking him to take you home after school.

•He got the "twin" of Mikey's bike not long ago. Takemichi didn't seem to be very experienced with bikes.

•"Takemichi, for the love of God... DON'T LEAN SO MUCH WITH THAT BIKE!" you shouted in complete despair.

•Hanagaki took a turn so fast that you were forced to lean over to avoid falling with the bike, you and everything. "TAKEMICHI!" You screamed as your leg scraped on the asphalt.

•Get ready to give him a lot of slaps and get a lot of apologies.

Chifuyu Matsuno:

•"Hey Chifuyu?" He looks at you over his shoulder. "Yeah, Y/N?" You lightly fix your hair. "I need to be home early today... I thought you could drive me there. Well, you have a motorcycle right?" He healed violently at her request. "Of course y/n..." You hear his friends celebrating.

•He is worshipping your body close to his.

•My God, how he wants you to hug him!

•He took great care while riding with you on the back of his motorcycle.

•He is 100% fulfilled with the event.

•When he dropped you off in front of your house, he felt light as feathers, ready to fly away.

•You can be sure he will tell Baji everything, This one will be extremely happy and proud of his friend.

Shuji Hanma:

•Being Hanma's companion has its challenges. But it also has countless advantages.

•"Hey y/n, sweetie" his voice is so sweet today that you even found it strange.

•Hanma drags you up and down to his gang meetings. And there you were once again.

•You had to fight your way through the various delinquents to get to him. When you got to the front with him, his face was grim.

•"Let's go!" Something very serious had happened soon but you didn't dare to ask.

•Hanma joining the Tokyo Manji gang was quite a surprise for you.Mad you're a good girl, you're a good girlfriend, and good girls and good girlfriends don't ask their evil boyfriend questions.

•Hanma was "asked to leave the gang" another big surprise for you. And once again you didn't ask anything.

•That night, he took his anger out on you. Hanma thrust in and out of you with a murderous fury. His eyes flashed as you grabbed his back with your sharp nails. And that only made him more excited.

• "Do you like that? Is that right baby girl?" Good luck walking the next day.

Takashi Mitsuya:

•Mitsuya is your best friend. You call him that, although Mitsuya doesn't like that title very much.

•He made a beautiful new outfit for you. 'She's going to look hot in that outfit...' he thought, unable to contain himself, as far as his imagination went.

•Mitsuya imagined what you would look like in the outfit he made. You and your beautiful body covered in the soft fabric he chose especially for you.

•Mitsuya picked you up from your school that afternoon. He offered you his helmet and you sat behind him. As usual, you hugged his waist to keep from falling off the bike.

• "y/n... I made something for you" he said fixing shyness.

•It was clear that it was a new outfit, you hugged him and rested your face on his shoulder.

•"You must have looked beautiful, Suya" and you really did look beautiful, you looked beautiful. And Mitsuya let it show.

•That night, Mitsuya stopped being your best friend, although he still remains just your.

Souya Kawata (Angry):

•Angry is completely different from his smiley twin brother. Anyone can easily see that.

•The other twins are childhood best friends, and this has generated countless virtues for you.

•You never walked again, for example. You didn't have to worry about your own safety, and that was wonderful for you.

•You love the twins. And they love you. Although in different ways.

•Smiley you just a little sister. As for Angry... Ah... He worships you like a true goddess.

•You were going to the market when the twins passed you on their motorcycles.

•"Hey y/n" shouted the smiley "get on the bike girl, I'll give you a ride!" You were happy until the pink-haired twin. Until Until you noticed the blue-haired twins staring at you with those sad eyes. Although he maintained his usual furious expression.

•"Sorry Nahoya, but I'm going with your brother this time..." Smiley whispered whatever. Smiling as he watched you go to his brother.

•You held on to him tightly as the two bikes rode side by side down the street.

•When you got off the bike, Nahoya looked at you smiling "go on girl, we'll be waiting for you outside."Souya looked at you desperately and said, "And please choose me again."

Nahoya Kawata (Smiley):

•(lots of sex between you two.) He loves fucking his childhood friend.

•Make no mistake, in this part of the story it is Smiley who is in love with you. And Angry to see you as a younger sister.

•Smiley is fast. One minute you're talking about high school, and the next you're having sex for the first time.

•Grind your ass on his cock, he loves it when you do that. "Fuck baby girl... You're gonna make me cum like that!"

South Terano (bonus):

•Please your man. He deserves it. South grabs your hair, pushing your head against his body. You choke, relax your throat and try again.

•He makes a huge effort not to be too rough with you. After all, you are his precious and favorite rag doll.

•Come on girl, get that dick down your throat nice and tight. He'll reward you in no time.

💋Hey, did you like the story? Suggest me more characters for part 3💋

190 notes · View notes

silenzahra · 1 month ago

Text

💚 Follow Me 💜

Not long ago, my dear twin bro @megamagimugi started introducing me to his favorite band, Muse. One of the first songs he exposed me to, Follow Me, really spoke to me. More specifically, I felt it as Luigi singing to his daughter, my OC Violet Fiorella. It was so beautiful and inspiring that I ended up writing something.

And this is what I'm bringing tonight! 😄 It's been a while since I last shared a story with y'all, so I really hope you'll enjoy this little father and daughter moment with Luigi and my fankid. But first, lemme share the song that inspired the entire thing with y'all! 🎶

youtube

And without further ado, as always, you can continue reading below! Comments, reblogs and kudos are more than welcome and appreciated, I always love to hear what my readers have to say about my stories 🥰

Enjoy!! 💚💜

✨ AO3 LINK ✨

💚 Follow Me 💜

Luigi is awakened from the restless sleep he had managed to fall into due to persistent crying that pierces the night.

He sits up immediately, alarmed, and allows himself only a second to get his bearings. The moonlight streaming through the window allows him to see that, fortunately, Daisy is still asleep beside him. His poor wife is exhausted after spending the whole day alone with Violet, a sweet and affectionate little girl, but also very active and reckless. Like mother, like daughter, and in this case like uncle, like niece too.

Luigi knows that if he loved her any more, his heart would burst.

After quickly caressing his Fiore’s cheek and removing a strand of hair from her face, taking care not to wake her, Luigi pulls back the sheets and gets out of bed. As he puts on his slippers, he can still hear the crying, sad and desperate, as if the little person making the sound feels abandoned and forgotten by everyone. Luigi knows that feeling all too well, but just as his brother, his wife, and his best friend were there for him, he’ll always be there for his Fiorellino.

Polterpup is waiting for him in the hallway. His ghost puppy has proclaimed himself the guardian and protector of the youngest member of the family since her arrival, and every time she cries, if he can't find a way to help her himself, he rushes to find Luigi or Daisy so that his young mistress won’t be left unattended. The plumber pats Polty affectionately on the head and scratches him behind the ears, and smiles to himself when he notices that the spectral creature is following him to Violet's bedroom, next to her parents'. He’s touched by how seriously his dog takes his role and how well he and his daughter get along. Also, as a father, it’s a relief to know that his little flower will always have a faithful and loyal protector by her side.

When he opens the door, the yellow owl-shaped light shining on the soft lilac wall allows him to make out the shape of his little girl in her crib. Just as Luigi expected, she’s standing up, whining and clinging to the bars, probably wishing she could find a way out, fortunately without success. Ever since Violet started walking and showed that she’d inherited her dad’s agility, both her parents have grown concerned in case their daring and courageous daughter will ever manage to escape from her cradle and they won’t be around to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.

But now their little girl is alone and needs her father.

“Ciao, piccolina,” Luigi greets her, his tone low and warm.

Violet stops crying as soon as she sees him and, with teary eyes, reaches out her little arms toward him, her Fire Flower plush forgotten on her pillow. Luigi smiles tenderly and bends down to carefully pick up his baby. His daughter clings to his green summer pajamas as soon as he holds her against his body, and hides her head in his chest with such desperation that it tears Luigi's heart apart.

“Did you have another nightmare, Violetta?” he whispers as he holds her close.

Violet has just turned one year old four days ago, but she’s already shown her intelligence on numerous occasions, which, according to Daisy, she also inherited from him. And now she does it again, as, without breaking the contact with her dad, she nods against his chest in a clear indication that she understands, then snuggles even closer against the light fabric of his pajamas, seeking his warmth and protection.

“Oh, mia piccola Fiorella...”

Luigi's hand almost completely covers his little girl's back as he hugs her. He caresses her gently and kisses her head, where a thick tuft of hair the same color as his has already grown. Violet is wearing a thin lilac bodysuit with a yellow daisy print that contrasts with her dark skin, exactly like Daisy's, so Luigi leans over her crib for a moment. The green wool blanket with the emblem of the Royal House of Sarasaland that his mother knitted for Violet shortly after she was born lies on top of the mattress, so he carefully spreads it over his baby to keep her warm. It's not cold yet, October hasn't started, but the temperature drops at night, especially in Birabuto Kingdom, a mostly desert land.

Besides, this is Violet's third night sleeping in her own room. She was moved there the day after her first birthday, reluctantly by both Luigi and Daisy, but especially by the girl herself. They know that this is a step they’d have had to take sooner or later, but they both miss having their daughter in their bedroom. Above all, Luigi misses the nights when they ended up placing Violet in the middle of the mattress so that she could have the shelter of both her mom and her dad to help her sleep better and more soundly. It worked like a charm.

Luigi always had the sweetest dreams on those nights. After all, the last thing his eyes saw was the image of his two flowers sleeping in each other's arms, his violet with her thumb in her mouth, his daisy with an expression of pure serenity shining on her face. When he fell asleep, Luigi had one hand resting on his daughter's tiny body, feeling her steady, peaceful breathing, while his forehead brushed against his Fiore's.

It was his favorite way to sleep.

Now, even though both he and Daisy are able to rest due to the fatigue accumulated during the day, they both miss the feeling of sleeping with their little girl snuggled between them. And, of course, Violet longs to feel the warmth of her parents, or at least to have them in the same room as her when she wakes up in the middle of the night.

His daughter feels abandoned.

And Luigi can't let that happen.

He knows all too well what it's like to feel lost and alone in the dark, with his loved ones far away and unable to find peace without them. He understands all too well that this is causing his Fiorella to have nightmares, and he’s determined to find a way to banish them forever, just as he did with Mario shortly after their first adventure in the Mushroom Kingdom. He’s tried different stories and tales, something he started doing when Violet was still forming in Daisy's womb, and it’s almost always worked. The only exceptions were the endless nights when his little girl cried and cried because she was teething, and her exhausted parents could only count the hours until it was safe to give her medicine again so that the three of them could try to get a few minutes of sleep.

Luigi has a feeling that, just like back then, stories won't work this time either. Violet, like Daisy and Mario, loves his storytelling skills and always listens to him intently, and he couldn't be happier or prouder that his little girl, like him, is a lover of stories and needs them to fall asleep.

But there's something else that Violet, like everyone else in their family, also loves.

So, without hesitation, Luigi decides to try his other passion, the one that connects him to his brother, his wife, and now his daughter. Hoping it will help her relax and find solace, the plumber clears his throat and strokes Violet's baby hair.

“When darkness falls and surrounds you...”

His voice is barely a whisper, as he doesn't want to wake Daisy by accident. With his daughter in his arms, keeping her warm with her wool blanket, Luigi begins to pace around the room. Polterpup has laid down next to Violet's crib and curled up on the green rug that Daisy placed there the day they decorated the room that would be their daughter’s. It ended up being a curious but perfect mix of the three of them: the thin curtains and the carpet are a soft forest green; the armchair next to the crib is a warm orange, as is the shelf where the girl's first books rest; and the walls and ceiling, in honor of the name Luigi and Daisy chose for their daughter, were painted lilac.

Therefore, with a little bit of green and a little bit of orange, Violet's parents are present in her bedroom, wrapping her in their love.

“When you fall down,” Luigi continues, “when you're scared and you're lost...”

The plumber lets his voice fade slowly and remains silent for a moment. He stops in front of the window and pulls back the curtain, allowing the bright moonlight to flood in. Seeing it through the glass, huge and full, presiding over the night in Sarasaland, Luigi squeezes Violet and rests his cheek on her hair before singing the next verse. Feeling her tiny fingers resting on his back and collarbone melts his heart and brings a smile to his lips.

“Be brave,” he sings, caressing Violet's cheek with his thumb and rocking her gently, hoping his message will sink in. “I'm coming to hold you now.”

His daughter hugs him tighter when she hears these words. Violet has always loved being in her dad’s arms, ever since she was born, and Luigi's soul soars knowing that he is his little girl's safe haven. He intends to always be there for her, ready to hold her no matter what, and hopes he’ll be able to teach her to be strong like her mother, determined like her uncle, kind like her aunt, and, perhaps, brave like her father.

“When all your strength has gone and you feel wrong, like your life has slipped away...”

He rocks Violet a little more as he continues singing. His daughter is still clinging to him, but she's doing so with less force, less desperation, and Luigi scores a small victory as he realizes that he is, slowly but surely, succeeding in calming his baby.

“Follow me,” he sings, putting a little more firmness into his voice. “You can follow me. And I, I will not desert you...”

He pulls her closer and rubs his cheek against her tiny head. He knows Violet is very young, but given her intellect and skills, he hopes his words and, above all, his fatherly love will sink deep into his daughter's heart.

“When your fire's dried out, no one's there, they have left you for dead...”

Luigi can hardly believe that there was a time in his life when the little treasure he holds in his arms, snuggled against his chest and grasping his t-shirt, did not exist.

He still remembers the joy that overwhelmed him when he and Daisy found out that they’d soon be one more, that it would no longer be just the two of them, but him, her, and a little baby who would be proof of all the strong and deep love they have for each other. Luigi got extremely emotional the first time he and Daisy could listen to their child’s heartbeat, and even though he was being struck by all his fatherly love that was still very new to him, he recalls Daisy being also quite affected. He’s aware of the great effort his wife made that day not to burst out crying like he did. He still hugged her though, willing to comfort her while he, too, sought for her comfort.

And more than one year later, here he is now: hugging this tiny part of himself, beautiful and cheerful and so much like him and her mom, who’s come to fill his world with laughter, madness, infinite joy, and a love so boundless and fierce that it cannot fit in his chest. Luigi often feels that his heart will expand throughout his body in search of more space to contain all the intense and wonderful emotions that his daughter makes him feel.

Luigi has had many fantastic adventures with his older brother, his best friend, and, of course, his beloved wife.

But without a doubt, becoming Violet's father is the greatest adventure he’s experiencing.

“Follow me, you can follow me. I will keep you safe.”

Still rocking her, he squeezes her again, his protective instinct flowing through his veins and controlling his actions. A sudden mirth spreads through his body when he hears his daughter's giggle, and he feels her hug him back. Luigi looks away from the moon and a moved smile blooms on his lips as he watches the peaceful expression on his little girl's face as she embraces him with all her might.

“Follow me,” he murmurs, his voice a little shaky. “You can follow me.”

He allows himself a second to simply enjoy contact with his daughter and, of course, to hold her close with all his love, relieved to have finally found a way to make her feel better. Music has always been very important to Luigi. He and Mario learned to create their own melodies when they were young, and Luigi continued to do so after he started dating Daisy. He was, and still is, so in love with her that he simply couldn’t, nor wouldn’t, contain himself.

That's why, just as he used to tell Violet stories before she was born, he also sang countless songs to her. He and Daisy often sing together and perform little duets while dressing or bathing their daughter, to distract her and make everything more fun, more like a game. But also to comfort her in moments of sadness or pain. Luigi usually finds it harder to sing at those times, as his heart weeps to see his baby girl suffer. He’s deeply grateful that Daisy notices and starts singing so that he, guided and helped by the calmness she gives, can join in soon after.

And Violet loves it when her parents sing to her and always asks them for more. In fact, at night, if she’s still awake after her dad’s story concludes, she’s lulled to sleep by the lullabies he sings to her.

So Luigi hopes that his message, his promise that he’ll always keep her safe and sound, will be engraved in Violet's memory and that she’ll never forget it.

And he adds another one after taking a deep breath to regain the strength of his voice.

“I will protect you.”

And he will do so with his life if necessary.

“Oh, I won't let them hurt you,” he continues, and begins to move away from the window, though he doesn’t turn his back on it completely. “Hurt you, no.”

They’ll have to step over his dead body, and even then he’ll rise, like a living dead or a ghost, to continue protecting his daughter and prevent anyone from even trying to harm her.

Luigi will make sure they all pay.

“When your heart is breaking...”

His own heart shatters at the realization that, unfortunately, he won't always be able to prevent his precious child from suffering, no matter how hard he tries. But he shall be there to soothe and reassure her, and he hopes she understands that she’ll always have her father's support and comfort.

“You can follow me,” he continues. “I will always keep you safe.”

He looks down and meets his daughter's huge blue eyes, identical to Daisy's, fixed on him. A small smile graces her lips, a sign that she’s not only listening attentively, but also enjoying the song her dad is singing to her tonight. Satisfied, Luigi leans down slowly and holds his daughter's tiny head in his hand, and they both close their eyes for a second before their foreheads meet.

“Follow me. You can trust in me,” he assures her, smiling as he sings. “I will always protect you, my love.”

His last words are barely a whisper, just for his daughter, and he gently moves her away when he finishes the verse. Violet looks back at him intently and, smiling, raises her tiny hand to caress her dad’s cheek while bringing the thumb of her other hand to her mouth, which means that sleep is beginning to take hold of her. Luigi sighs, melting at the tender gesture, and leans down to kiss his girl's forehead, hoping that it’ll encourage her to close her eyes and rest in his arms.

“Feel my love,” Luigi sings in a soft whisper as he walks toward the armchair. “Oh, feel my love...”

Even though he knows he should put Violet in her crib, Luigi doesn't want to let her go. Taking care not to let the wool blanket covering her slip, the plumber sits down in the soft armchair, his feet resting on the green rug where Polterpup lays, wagging his tail without raising his head, also sleepy. Luigi makes sure his baby is snug against his chest and well covered. He tells himself he'll only stay like this for a few minutes, just long enough to enjoy the feeling of having his precious daughter asleep in his arms, breathing peacefully as she sucks her thumb, finally lost in sweet dreams. With all his fatherly love beaming on his face, Luigi strokes Violet’s soft hair and kisses her tiny head as he leans back.

“Sogni d'oro, mia piccola Fiorella,” he whispers. “Papà ti vuole bene.”

The placidness radiating from his sleeping baby induces him to rest his head on the back of the armchair and close his eyes for a moment, wanting to enjoy the feeling of sleeping with her once more. Before she grows up.

Little does he imagine that he’ll end up spending the whole night there and won’t wake up until Daisy enters the room in the morning, only to find a plumber sprawled out on the armchair, with a hand hanging over its arm and his legs stretched out in front of him, next to his ghostly puppy. In his other arm he cradles his daughter, who, fortunately, remains in the same position, her finger in her mouth as she sleeps soundly, covered by the green wool blanket that her grandmother knitted for her.

But that's a problem for tomorrow.

#follow me #zahra's fics #zahra's writing #super mario #luigi #Violet Fiorella (OC)#luaisy #princess daisy #super mario fanfic #fic inspired by music #muse #Youtube

54 notes · View notes

thesunloveschips · 1 year ago

Text

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 13: Dreams and Desires

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: Azriel dreams of love and lust and then he finally dares to hope. Nyra's desires begin.

Warnings: not pure smut but still 18+, angst because we see baby Az and his mum, fluff, fluff, SHIRTLESS Azriel and the Truth Teller!

Word count: 9.1k (Enjoy!!)

A/N: @feerique thank you!! for waiting for weeks for this chapter and for giving me your heart in the comments as you reviewed it!! 💜✨✨

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

Azriel couldn’t believe it. Nyra was in his arms, looking up at him as if he’d brought the world to her feet. She was content with everything and he could feel her satisfaction through their bond.

But this was a dream and he was a spectator living in his own head.

“Everything was wonderful today, wasn’t it?” Her voice was a gentle affirmation over some happy thing he did not know.

“We had a very nice morning.” She looked at the collar of his shirt, biting her lip bashfully. Azriel wanted to tilt her chin and kiss her right there. One of her palms was situated over his chest, right where his heart rested beneath the shirt and his skin. Her fingers started tapping on his chest.

“A good breakfast. Work finished early. And the dinner! Gods. Az, I didn’t realise how much I needed that dinner with you. It’s been a while since we went on a date.”

Azriel felt his heart soar at her words. He leaned towards her and kissed her cheek. Nyra’s eyes closed and her answering smile was a bright thing filling him with more love and energy than he ever believed he would hold in his heart.

The shadowsinger realised that he had never seen Nyra smile like that in real life. A smile so unrestrained and bright. There was always something that she carried and this Nyra in his dream was so free of everything, so happy. And she was happy in his presence, smiling at his kiss.

“We will, my love.” He heard himself speaking.

How did he even reach here? To the point where he could call her his love? And this slice of happiness that they were sharing right now—oh, what wouldn’t he do for her happiness.

“We'll go on many dates.” His kisses descended to the area beneath her ear. “Go to many places.” He pressed a featherlight kiss to the nape of her neck and she craned. “We’ll do a lot of things.”

“Today was exceptional.” She turned around and led him by the hand to a door.

A bedroom.

Oh shit.

Azriel had no experience with this. No experience with any sort of intimacy with her. He was a mere spectator in his own body as the words flew out of his mouth and this tender moment between them continued.

He was surprised to find that it was not a room he was familiar with nor was the view from the window. He followed her inside and closed the door behind them. He looked around as if seeing the room for the first time.

Their scent was all over it and he inhaled in delight. He also saw many personal effects ranging from clothing to weaponry. The bookshelves were filled. Papers were stuck on the wall. Portraits of the two of them. He swore he’d spotted a blue silk gown of hers lying on a chair.

“Upset at not being able to rip it like you’d wanted?” Nyra teased. His eyes snapped back to meet hers. A mixture of mirth and lust danced around her as she turned to look at that gown. “I do like it. The colour, the fabric, the design—everything makes it too precious for it to be subjected to destruction.”

Her left arm was crossed beneath her breasts while the other’s elbow rested on the wrist of the left. Her fingers played with the loose strands of her hair, her neck and Azriel was aching to taste her skin.

“It does suit you well.” Azriel admitted. The onlooker in his head did not even remember Nyra’s blue gown. Was this something only the Azriel and Nyra in his dream shared? “And you continue to wear it, knowing what it does to me.”

He blushed at his own words. This dream made him feel like a voyeur in his own life.

“Is it the gown that does it to you or is it me?” He had never heard that tone from her. Azriel learned that he was somehow always ready to kneel before her—for her.

“Always you. But the gown speeds things up.” Nyra laughed at that and Azriel felt his own mood lighten at being the cause of her joy.

The last few minutes had so much happiness, so much love—the male he was before could have this much happiness and love over the span of weeks. And everything was with her—between them and gods, he was loving this dream.

The sudden realisation that this was a dream brought him back to another fact that he was a mere spectator, watching this scene through the eyes of the Azriel who was here. The one who said the words he would never have the courage to say.

Envy coursed through him, at how much the Azriel in the dream could freely be with Nyra, love her, touch her. And gods damned his fucking soul but if the talk about that blue silk had any truth in it, then this Azriel was definitely having the time of his life with this lovely female.

“I’ll be a very happy male the day I tear that gown.” He declared. Nyra’s brows raised and she walked towards him and kissed his lips softly.

Azriel wanted to close his eyes or at least look away. This was an intimate moment and he did not want to seem like a pervert indulging in voyeuristic tendencies but gods did he want more of her touch. More of her kisses. More of her.

“Not that gown, Az.” She pulled back and turned around with a hand holding the periwinkle skirts of the gown she was wearing. “Rip this one.” And she threw him a look he immediately classified as erotic, inviting him for a salacious night. “That is, if you can.”

Azriel felt his soul darken at her challenge. He stalked forward, ready with the strength of a predator. His mate stood right where she was. She raised her hand for him to take and found herself flush against him as he kissed her, his other hand grabbing her chin with the palm resting on the side of her neck.

He walked her backwards to where a table was. There was also a chair and Nyra’s legs would’ve hit it but Azriel had grabbed the obstacle and flung it to some other part of the room. His shadows caught the chair mid-air and set it down somewhere without any destruction to the room.

And while the shadowsinger flung the chair elsewhere, his mate grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull him closer. Her hand came to where the shirt was beginning to cover him with its buttons and descended with enough force for the buttons to pop off. And with that, he felt the touch of her fingers through the planes of his chest to his abdomen.

“I thought you said I looked good in that shirt.” Azriel, the spectator, couldn’t believe that this was Nyra.

“And you were taking too long to remove it.” She now had a view of Azriel’s bare chest even as he was wearing his shirt and blazer. She looked like she could not decide if she wanted him like this or in a state of complete undress.

“Patience is a virtue.” He chuckled. Azriel loved the way she looked at him. Like she wanted him.

“I’m anything but virtuous right now.” Her hand found its way to his pants as if to prove her point. Four of her fingers found its way inside his pants and his undershorts, and Azriel’s heart almost jumped up to his throat. He clenched his fists for some semblance of control.

“Take off my belt, Nyra.” And her hand left him, trailing just a bit upwards with her nails. Nails he wanted to feel on his arms and back as she held him while he fucked her senseless.

She moved forward, pressing her clothed breasts against his bare chest, feeling him breathe against her. Nyra kissed his lips softly before she whispered. “Make me.”

Azriel woke up, sweating like he’d been subject to a heatwave. Despite the night being cooler than was normal for the season, he sweated enough to have the sheets dampen. The smell of his own sweat was a reminder of the dream he’d just woken from.

Azriel was familiar with nightmares. He had a routine of escaping them by drowning in his work, late night training or maybe a night of sex.

The last one was no longer an option. Maybe he should’ve never bedded anyone, ever. Yes, that would’ve been a wise choice. But the past couldn’t be rewritten and so for now, he’d be celibate until marriage.

Azriel knew he was hard and it was pain and pleasure and such sweet pain he dared not touch it. Mother curse him, Nyra was simply existing in one of the rooms in the House of Wind, completely minding her own business, dealing with her own trauma, probably sleeping since it was so late. She probably saw him as a friend at best and an acquaintance at worst and he was already dreaming of a life with her.

A life where he’d go on a dinner date with her, retire to the privacy of their rooms, kiss her for her smiles and indulge in his desires with her.

That dream which showed the possibility of a life with her—that was the sort of dream people look up at the night sky and wish for. The sort of dreams that one would wish for in the most desperate of moments.

He remembered a conversation with his mother the day his hands were burned. The sweet female that she was, his mother told him something he kept in his heart for all this time.

A female held her son so close to her, so afraid of letting him go. The flames had hurt her son’s hands. He couldn’t even hug his mother back with how much his hands were hurting.

Rain poured that night, heavy and cold. She saw herself in the rain and thanked whatever power that made the clouds weep. The rain had begun falling just as his hands had started burning and was the only reason why there was still a chance his hands would remain functional.

And even though it rained outside their small, dirty cottage, the female could not stop crying. As a mother, she wanted to be strong for her son but what could she do?

She was weak and that was her reality. So weak that she couldn’t even keep her son with her. So weak she couldn’t stop him from being imprisoned from the day he’d been taken from her as a toddler.

She should’ve fled the camp but she’d been worried about how they’d treat a female and babe with no male protection. But her poor son, her darling son, this wonderful boy she’d been blessed with. Perhaps the only blessing she’d ever received in this world and the only one she’ll ever have.

She couldn’t go with this again. She’d go to Windhaven the next time the High Lord’s visit was due. She was once a friend of the female who was now the Lady of the Night. She’d beg for her son’s freedom if need be. But as she felt the tremors of her son who sobbed in her arms, her newfound determination and strength faltered.

“Will it always be like this?” Azriel’s voice was so small, so unpractised in conversation.

“No.” That was the only thing she’d wanted for him. For his life to not remain like this. She didn’t know if it could be better or to what extent it could be better but his life had to be outside that damned cell. “It won’t be like this. You’ll be out in the world, flying. My boy will be strong.”

His mother hoped that the mandatory training for the Illyrians would bring him freedom. War was coming soon and there could never be too many soldiers now. Not with the High Lord’s own son approaching the age of training and whispers of whether the Heir would come to Illyria to train.

“And you’ll have a family of your own and-”

“Please don’t leave me.” Azriel begged, fat tears flowing down his cheeks. “Please. Please. Please. Please.” He’d thought that a new family of his own meant that his mother would be far away. “Please don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, my boy.” She kissed his forehead. “I’m here for you. Always.”

“I don’t want a new family.” Azriel sobbed and hiccuped and it was agony not being able to hold his mother or to even clench his own fists. “I only want to live with you.”

“Soon, Azriel. What I meant was that we will have a new family.”

“We?” Azriel peered up at his mother, vision still blurred by his own tears.

“Yes. You, me and the one you love.” His mother sounded hopeful and hopeless at the same time. “And all three of us will be a family together.”

Azriel’s mother had meant to explain romantic love to her son. That she’d prayed for every single day of her life that he’d meet someone good and kind and wonderful and that person would love her son and that her son would love that person and they’d have a happy life together whether or not she’d live long to see that. He knew that now because this conversation had been revisited a few times after he entered adulthood.

His mother had harboured reservations against the mating bond due to how bad it had turned out for her and for many others around her with the former Lady of the Night being the only exception but even then, that wasn’t a legendary romance. It wasn’t until Rhysand himself visited her for her blessings that she felt a little good about it but even then Feyre had yet to meet his mother.

Azriel supposed he was lucky. He was the only one in the Inner Circle with a living parent who was good and kind and so much more. And now, Rhys was the first one in the Inner Circle to have a family of his own with Feyre. And Azriel had the mating bond with Nyra and he wondered and hoped and prayed so badly that he could have something with her.

Something.

Anything.

He would be content with friendship even if she fell in love with another. No matter how much it would kill him.

Liar! The shadows hissed and continued to chant it.

Of course, he was a liar.

A liar because the thought of another male near her making her smile and laugh. Another male kissing her, naked with her. Nyra’s eyes half closed in desire, her hair untied and curls free, completely disrobed as her shoulders and curves for that faceless bastard. . .

The Truth Teller landed on the bookshelf with a thump. The force behind his favourite dagger had caused a long crack on the side of the shelf. The wooden structure would probably fall if he took the dagger off.

The dream triumphed over him again.

And now he was imagining things rather vividly. Images of loving her. Of going to places with her. Kissing her and making her smile so brightly. To rip that gown and make her take off his belt. . .

He needed to get up. He needed a good release, some late night training but his aching cock reminded him how much he needed another kind of release.

****

Nyra woke up from a dreamless sleep in the middle of the night. She found herself in an unfamiliar place but it took time for her to process everything that had happened and realise that this was her bedroom in the House of Wind.

There were a few notes on the bedside table. She guessed that Nesta might’ve written one of them but what about the others? The first note she picked up had Nesta’s name on display. She unfolded it and read its contents.

You became angry at the mention of Hybern and lost control of your power. No one and nothing was harmed. Azriel brought you to bed. I accompanied him.

The two of you disappeared into his shadows right before you completely lost control and when he brought you back, you had fainted from exhaustion.

Food is on the study table if you need some. Your nightdress is on the chair should you feel the need to change.

Rest well.

Nyra found the food and the nightdress. She decided to reread the note in the morning and then meet Azriel to talk to him about whatever happened in the shadows. She was starting to recollect some things but it was mostly her own power trying to release itself.

She took the next note with Azriel’s name and unfolded it.

We can talk about what happened in the shadows over some chocolate cake. After all, I did lure you into attending dinner and you did not even get your reward. I’ll meet you after your lessons with Amren.

Azriel.

Nyra read and reread that note. Azriel’s handwriting was cursive and therefore a little difficult to comprehend since she was seeing it for the first time. The letters that were supposed to be capital letters were small ones written in a bigger size. The Ys looked like they had a tail, the small Ds and Bs had feather-like extensions. The only crinkle on the note was in the middle from where it had been folded. Very fancy handwriting indeed.

There was another note with no name. She took it and opened it.

Hey! I just wanted to know if you were okay. If you need anything, we’re here.

Nyra frowned upon seeing no name. She looked at the entire page and then flipped it and there was still nothing to identify its writer. The handwriting was an unfamiliar one and rather bad according to her standards. Nyra looked around and rose from bed, heading over to the table where Amren’s books were neatly stacked. A little note was on top of it.

Read.

-Amren.

Nyra took the first book and opened it. She skinned through the pages and then closed it. A lidded bowl was placed next to the books with cutlery wrapped in a napkin. It was a bowl of hot soup and the steam carried its aroma. She closed it and looked at the nightdress on the chair—a thin, white thing. She had to change.

She removed her dress where she stood and removed her undergarments and quickly put on the nightdress. She found a full length robe in the wardrobe which was more extravagant than practical with the silk and lace but at least, it reached the floor and was full sleeved.

The first book was a general introduction to magic. She read that rather easily and quickly. The next was on types and uses.

And hours passed. She’d woken up at eleven at night and it was now nearly four. She’d finished three out of five books and had had that soup at some point.

A yawn escaped her and she stood up to stretch her arms and twist her body. Nyra looked around and decided to sleep. In response to her wishes, the magic of the House turned off the lights and that was when she noticed the shadow outside her door. It was prominent due to the lighting outside her room.

The lights turned on again and she finally noticed the wisps of darkness creeping in from under the door. She walked over and opened the door. Azriel stood there, his hand in a fist as if he was going to knock, his eyes widening as he met her gaze.

“I. . .” He swallowed. Azriel saw her, what she was wearing and the way her hair was untied. The warm light seemed to accentuate her features—the softness of her hair, the smoothness of her skin, those lips he’d only kissed in that dream.

And that robe that was wrapped around her frame only because Nyra held on to it like that. She hadn’t tied it and had opted to simply hold it tight against herself. The way her breasts moved with every step as she walked out of that door and he realised that she was probably not wearing her undergarments. At least not her bra.

He made all of these observations within the first second and by the next, he was looking at her face, desperate to kiss her after the dream he’d just had. He needed her touch.

“Are you okay?” He finally asked and exhaled deeply.

Nyra looked at him not knowing why he looked so nervous. Was there something on her face? “I’m fine. I think. Are you alright? You look rather. . . flushed.”

Azriel felt the warmth in his body increase. He looked to the ground, suddenly shy and Nyra had no way of knowing that this incredibly beautiful male could be so enchantingly adorable.

“What happened?” She asked softly. “Do you have a fever?”

Azriel looked at her. Oh fuck, he looked bad enough that she was worried for a fever. “Why are you worrying for me when you’re the one who’s been awake for hours?”

“I have no reason not to be worried for you. And have you not been awake for hours with the way you’re dressed? Did you come back from somewhere?” Nyra replied. “And how long have you been standing outside my room?”

“I’ve been awake. . . for some time. I was training.” He mumbled, averting his gaze once again. He did feel rather warm at her worry for him. “It’s only been a few minutes since I’ve been outside your door.”

Ninety two minutes. The shadows whispered mockingly.

“Do you want to come in?” Her invitation was an innocent one but the one Azriel did not trust was his own self.

He’d had a partially erotic dream about her and had woken up with a very hard cock that seemed to have an issue calming down. He’d been forced to take care of it and it seemed to have a mind of its own and with a very clear obsession. And now that he knew that Nyra was in her nightdress with that pathetically thin robe and no underwear, he couldn’t trust himself around her in a bedroom of all places.

“No, thank you.” Azriel was mortified by the way he spoke. Did his desire reveal itself through his voice or did he sound pathetic? “It’s late. We need our sleep.”

And he’d scare her if he said he wanted to sleep with her. Wanted to know her skin and the feel of it against his own. He wanted to be deep within her, her bare breasts against his chest as he pounded deep and hard into her. To suck on her neck and have her lose her mind enough to make her cling to him as he pleasured her.

He wanted to tell her that he was attracted to her. That he liked her. That he loved talking to her when she was a human and that he missed those talks. The way she showed interest in this world and how she’d eagerly listen to his stories of Velaris and his life. The stories she told him about the human lands. The scare he got when she coughed blood in front of him as a weakened mortal.

She was weakened. She was not born weak. The shadows raged. She was harmed.

Azriel knew his shadows had stalked her like the creepiest of beings and had been dead set on obtaining every morsel of information on Nyra that existed. They’d found the old cottage where they lived, the ruins of their former estate where the sisters spent their childhood, and investigated every corner.

The bed has answers. The shadows whispered. Let us investigate. The bed on which she was born. Azriel knew exactly what the shadows were talking about. They were psychometric like that but some of their abilities required his express consent. And that is precisely what he granted.

Meanwhile, Nyra looked at Azriel who wore his leathers, the weapons strapped to different parts of his body revealed that much. But god knew why he was training in the middle of the night. He was behaving rather oddly. He was staring at her face.

“Is there something on my face?” Nyra touched her cheek and frowned.

“No. Why’d you ask?” Yes, your face is beautiful. I want to hold it and kiss it. Please don’t frown. He couldn’t say any of that.

“You’ve been staring at me for so long.”

“I apologise for making you feel uncomfortable” Azriel looked away.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” Nyra quickly spoke. Azriel was rather shy right now and it was new to her. It was different from the male who visited their estate late at night to tell them stories of the fae. But Azriel was still Azriel. He was. . . divine. “I thought I had food or something else on my face.”

“Your face is. . . fine.” It was a struggle not to compliment her face. That adorable face. She was a dainty being compared to his powerfully built self even when she was taller than most females. And she looked so inviting in a homely sense, ready for bed with that nightdress and hair down and the dim lights.

And he wanted to be with her.

From the moment he first held her, he wanted her in his arms all day, everyday.

But he had to focus on the conversation right now. She’d said something about food on her face. “That means you’ve had the food?”

“Yes?” She looked at him, pleasantly surprised that he’d made that observation.

“You mentioned you couldn’t sleep.”

She simply nodded, her gaze now far away.

“If you need anything—a tonic, or a healer or someone to talk-”

“That’s the thing.” She whispered, a pained look haunting her eyes. She was looking to his left. Maybe at his siphon. “I don’t know what I need.”

“What do you feel?” Azriel focused on the bond and found it beginning to close but with whatever was still open, he took a peak. The storms in her mind had grown.

“Why do you keep asking so many questions?” Nyra looked at him defensively. He could feel the power of her mind, her storms and felt her walls build up more.

“Because I do not wish for you to remain where you are right now.” He hoped he was saying the right thing. If not the right thing, then he did not want to make it worse.

“I’m here. In your city. In your home. I’m no longer. . . at liberty to return to my own. I am stuck here.”

Azriel decided to pretend that her words did not break him and continue this. To provoke her so that she’d talk. It was the only thing he knew how to do. To make people talk. This would help her acknowledge. Talking out loud could be a step to acceptance.

“I don’t know if I’ve gained anything and I’ve lost everything.” She was trying to control her tears. “Nesta feels like she’s in the middle of a war and everything about Elain feels like she’s ready to float away into nothingness.” And the tears began falling. “I. . . I don’t. . There’s so much and. . . So much information and everything is jumbled and all over the place and I don’t even know if. . . And there was so much miasma in the Cauldron—it was so unbreathable and. . .”

Azriel walked forward and laid a hand on her cheek and wrapped another around her middle and rested it on her back. There was one duty he had right now—to help her through this.

His instincts roared at him to care and he was more than ready to do that. The shadows gently caressed her, taking away the strands of hair on her face. And Nyra still held her robe tightly even as he was now closer.

“Why are you here?” Azriel knew she would ask this question. She would probably never stop asking this question.

“Because I want to be.” He answered. This is where I want to be—with you. You are who I want to take care of.

Because there was no lie in that. His desires aside, he’d been waiting for his mate solely because he wanted to take care of her. He didn’t know what species or what sex or when his mate would be reborn. He just knew that the next time she was in the same realm as him, he wanted to take care of her.

Even when he did not know for sure that there could be any form of attraction between them, he only wanted this. For five centuries, the only thing he clung onto was his wish to take care of his mate. And he’d be damned if he let something like sexual attraction cloud his mind while she was confused and upset.

Not that he was denying that he wasn’t attracted to her. He was. Nyra was a beautiful female as a human. He’d noted that. She was a female unlike any other. And when she became fae, it became a struggle to be in her presence so that he wouldn’t fall to his knees in front of her just like that. And not even twenty four hours had passed since she woke up.

But the one thing he knew for sure was that he wanted to take care of her. And he would do that no matter what. Her tears had cleared his mind and there was a purpose now—to nurture and protect.

Nyra pulled back from the hug, eyes still tearful and cheeks redder and puffier. He wiped the tears on her cheeks and released her from his touch. She could do nothing but watch as Azriel and his gentle behaviour reached something within her. She wanted this. More of his softness. But her mind was too disoriented at the moment to ponder more on that.

“Go to sleep. Alright? No reading books or convincing yourself that you’d sleep after one more chapter. Hm? We’ll have that chocolate cake tomorrow. I’ll meet you after your lessons for Amren.”

Nyra nodded at him and yawned. She covered her mouth with a hand and then looked at him again with that sleepy face. “Good night.” She waved her hand. “Go to sleep, Az. You need it just as much as I do. If not more.”

“Good night.” And the door closed and was locked. The lights went off and Azriel could hear her breathing as it slowly evened into a slow melody.

Azriel walked away. He went to his room, tapped his siphon to remove his leathers and wore the sweatpants and settled in for sleep. It was easy. He thought of her. The progress both of them had made and soon, he fell asleep. The shadows remained quiet, letting their master sleep, even with all the things they were planning to investigate. There was much to uncover and a few of them slithered away into the night to begin their task.

****

Morning brought clarity and doubt. Nyra remembered so many things now. Her own memories from the earliest days of her life including her life as a babe. Her memories from other lives that were scattered like sheets of paper stacked in dusty piles, ready to fall down and make a mess. She had to sort through all of them.

She looked at her hands. The right hand had the tattoo after her bargain with Rhysand. The left was, well… Her scar remained but it had become a bit faint. Just a bit. She remembered her own insistence that it remain as her body was weaved inside the Cauldron.

And she remembered Azriel’s voice telling her to let it all out as her power roared like an untamed beast within her. The darkness that had surrounded them and him holding her. All that pain and relief as the storm within her was unleashed. Lightning followed thunder and so did the shadows and winds.

Nyra remembered hearing a very soothing sound. She remembered trying to focus on it and eventually telling him how tired he was. He did say something after that but Nyra was far too close to sleep at that point to be able to remember right now what he said.

The memory of Azriel holding her felt too intimate. And she’d touched his chest and grabbed his shirt. She felt his touch on her head and waist—how she had leaned on to his chest as she caught her breath. And that soothing sound was so clear at that moment. It finally felt like she could breathe.

And when he’d visited her not more than a couple of hours ago, Nyra remembered her own nervousness. Things had changed between them since she became fae. Whatever friendship they’d forged while she was still human was now a forgotten painting in the background. Now, it was as if they were familiar and yet so distant with one another. And she did not like that.

Azriel was her first friend outside her little circle which comprised only of her sisters. He was the first person unrelated by blood who had begun to inch closer to her circle. And suddenly, he was no longer there.

These thoughts continued to haunt Nyra as she bathed and dressed for the day. The mirror kept showing her a resplendent female, brimming with health. But her mind began whispering of the broken, wretched woman she was. The scar on her left palm reminded her of the past she had attempted to bury. Would things be better if she accepted this? A life as a fae? The future of an immortal?

Nyra exited her room and saw Nesta and Feyre engrossed in a very serious conversation.

“We shall resume later.” Nesta declared in a low voice, allowing no room for opposition and walked towards Nyra, followed by Feyre.

“I take it you did not rest well.” Nesta was still walking over and when she finally reached her, she cupped Nyra’s face and examined her.

“Did you have soup?” Feyre asked.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Nyra took Nesta’s hands and removed them from her cheek but continued to hold them. She was supposed to be mad at Nesta for not properly addressing things between her and Feyre but the way the two of them were fussing over her first thing in the morning did calm the skies in her mind.

“I had the soup. It was delicious.” She looked at Feyre. Nyra didn’t have it within her to smile but she hoped her expression was appreciative enough. “Thank you.” She added for good measure.

“I read the notes. Yours.” She turned to Nesta. “Azriel’s. Amren’s. And an anonymous one.”

“That was me.” Feyre smiled sheepishly.

“Write your name the next time so that I know it’s you.” Nyra watched her beam with a smile. Truly, her youngest sister looked radiant like the brightest star.

Nyra noted that Feyre looked happy. She was happy. So carefree. Like the wind was blowing and Feyre only needed to enjoy the pleasant breeze on her cheek than worry about any worn out clothing on her back. And despite not being able to recognise her, Nyra did feel relief. Feyre had no more responsibility to provide for the family.

“This is good.” She took Feyre’s hands in her own and the latter knew that Nyra was not talking about dresses or pants. Nyra felt something warm and cosy rising within her. Feyre was starting to be recognisable.

Nyra lifted a hand to touch her sister’s cheek. “You’ve done so well, my dear. Thank you for everything.”

Feyre inhaled sharply, tears pooling in her eyes but she craned her face upwards and shut her eyes tightly to prevent the tears. Nyra felt like she shouldn’t hug Feyre. As if the tears she was trying to control would fall if she did hug her. And if Feyre did not want to cry, then Nyra was not going to make her.

“The two of you should wear pants.” Feyre breathed. “Amren’s flat is in the city. Pants are more practical for flight.”

Nesta turned her body to look at Feyre, her coldness melting into nothing. “What’s a flat?”

Feyre blinked and then let out an awkward laugh. “A flat is a residence in a building. A building usually has multiple flats. You’ll get a better understanding once you visit Amren.”

“Flight?” Nyra was confused.

“You’ll be flying to reach Amren.” Feyre smiled brightly. “Cassian and Azriel will take you.”

“And how will we fly?”

“They’ll carry you.” Feyre looked a little lost.

Nesta’s spine straightened at the mention of being carried. She would choose Azriel unless he walked over to Nyra. She had no interest in being touched by Cassian lest she combust from the contact alone. Nesta could barely breathe in his presence. Concentration was something else she lost in his vicinity. Nesta hoped Nyra would be fine with Cassian. They seemed to be normal around each other. As normal as could be considering the present circumstance.

“Pants. Alright.” Nyra’s voice brought Nesta back to the present, away from her own head. She looked at Nyra, appreciating that effect she had on her. “We need to wear pants.”

The sisters went into the rooms, scoured the wardrobes, found appropriate clothing and wore them.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Nyra turned and looked at the mirror, seeing how nicely the pants fit her and how cosily the fabric rested from behind. “And this won’t be too improper or anything?”

“I’m wearing pants.” Feyre pointed towards her own pair of brown pants and twirled once.

“You’re used to life here. We’re not.” Nesta gave that reminder. The twins were still unsure. They were not used to something that showed the shape of their legs no matter how much they liked how the pants looked on them.

“If you’re uncomfortable with it, you can still change.” Feyre offered. Nyra knew there were enough gowns for her to wear each day of the month without repeating any of them. But she couldn’t stop admiring herself and how good she looked in these clothes. Especially the behind. Nyra could not stop admiring her legs.

“Yes, your legs look particularly good.” Feyre teased. A thought popped up. She immediately connected with Rhys over their bond and simply told him to bring Azriel and Cassian for breakfast no matter what. “Now, I’m hungry. If you are comfortable with your outfit, shall we have breakfast?”

The three Archerons exited the room and then stopped outside Elain’s room. When the door remained unanswered after they’d knocked and waited, they finally went inside. Elain was sleeping unexpectedly peacefully. They decided not to disturb her and moved ahead.

As they descended the stairs, they discussed Amren’s books. Nesta had also been given the same set of books which she found in her room after dinner. She read it through the night and now, the sisters were discussing its contents.

“It’s all theory.” Nesta explained to Feyre. “Books on history, introduction, types. Mostly the classifications according to Courts and the other types for daily use. Then there was combat magic with a brief mention of the Illyrians’ killing power.”

“That section had less information compared to what Azriel already told us.” Nyra recalled.

“Azriel told you?” Feyre was now curious like a cat. Rhys had just informed her that he’d told Azriel and Cassian to come to breakfast. Or he’d drag them anyway.

“He did frequent us when we were still humans.” Nyra sounded upset. “And he told us a lot and we told him a lot.”

“Good morning! Oooh! The pants look good.” Morrigan’s cheerful voice was far too loud. Nesta nodded at her once and then headed towards the dining table, ignoring Rhysand’s curious eyes as she searched for something. She finally found it and took a mug full of it for herself. One sip and she found herself at peace.

“Had your coffee?” Nyra’s voice came from behind. Morrigan had caught hold of Nyra’s free arm and led her and Feyre to the dining table with much enthusiasm.

“So that’s what you were looking for.” Rhysand noted, a little amused.

“Yes.” Nesta looked at both of them in turn. She then took another sip and felt some sense of peace within her. “I feel like a new woman.” Nesta looked at the coffee as she remembered that she was in fact a new woman after becoming fae. A new female. She did not understand how to deal with that.

“Have a croissant, Nesta Archeron.” And Rhysand was now walking towards them. He took a stop to pick up a plate and a croissant and then walked ahead. He extended the plate to Nesta who looked at him questioningly but took it from his hand. She found a seat, set her mug and plate on the table, broke a piece of it and dipped it into the coffee.

Nyra watched the odd interaction between her twin and Rhysand. She was sure that the two of them did not like each other and would only be civil for everybody else’s sake but this was not mere civility. Nyra looked at Feyre who was equally shocked at this behaviour from both of them. Even more shocked when Nesta thanked him for the croissant.

“Fancy some coffee, Nyra?” Rhysand turned to her with an easy smile.

“Or some wine? You missed a few good bottles last night.” Morrigan was far too excited this early in the morning. “The two of you definitely need wine if you’re going to Amren’s for lessons.”

Feyre simply let go of Nyra’s arm and went to a side of the table from where she produced a mug. It was a hot beverage but it was not coffee. “Here.” And she extended it to Nyra who recognised the aroma after ages.

“Hot chocolate?” Mor looked confused but by then, Nyra had taken a sip and sighed in content. She hugged Feyre from the side and then turned to Mor.

“It’s far too good.” And then she turned to Rhysand. “Superior to coffee.”

“Nothing is superior to coffee.” Rhysand declared.

“It breathes life into the body.” Nesta’s words had them all surprised. Not only was she siding with Rhys but the High Lord seemed pleased by her answer.

“This would be good with chocolate spread too.” And Nesta stood up, searching the long table for that. A bowl with the same flew over to her, carried by night. It was settled right in front of her croissant and she looked up at Rhys and offered him an awkward word of gratitude.

“I find good wine to be an elixir for the soul.” Mor declared.

“Will you be saving some space in your stomach for anything other than this elixir? A healthy breakfast, perhaps?” Nyra asked, looking rather amused. Mor smiled brightly, took her arm and brought her to the table where a good array of breakfast foods were served.

“With all of this, I most certainly will.” Mor set her wine glass on the table and grabbed three plates, before handing one to Nyra and Feyre. “Take a round and pick your pick.” And Mor led the way as three females circled the table, chose their foods and finally sat down.

“How’s Elain?” Mor asked, genuinely worried.

Nesta looked up at that question, took a sip of her coffee and finally answered the question. “Asleep with no nightmares.”

“You should sleep at night, Nesta.” Mor spoke seriously.

Nesta glared at her as an indication to be quiet.

“You purposefully kept yourself awake to escape your own nightmares and ensure you’d be there if they had any.” Nesta believed that Mor had a death wish with the way she wouldn’t stop speaking.

“Wait. What?” Nyra turned to her and then looked at Mor and then at Feyre. Everyone knew that this revelation before Nyra had been purposefully made because she was the only one Nesta would ever listen to. Nyra marched over to Nesta and sat next to her and just as she was about to start lecturing, they heard Cassian’s voice from the doorway.

“Who has nightmares?” The general asked as he sauntered into the room, half naked and sweaty. Nesta stared into her coffee mug, absolutely determined not to look at Cassian or even contemplate how delicious he looked.

“Nesta.” Rhys answered, frowning at Cassian. Something other than coffee seemed to be breathing life into her twin’s body and Nyra knew she’d have the time of her life teasing Nesta about this.

But all that mirth seemed to dissipate into thin air as Azriel walked in, shirtless and equally sweaty, with the Truth Teller spinning between his fingers. His chest seemed to be a work of art with his sweat providing it with an additional layer that had Nyra’s mind blank within the next second.

With his black curly hair sticking to his face at the side, the shadowsinger walked in oozing raw power and a level of satisfaction he had only after a good spar.

He had a light beard and the more Nyra looked at him, the more she felt something in her stomach. Did she eat something bad? But she had yet to have breakfast and even then that tingling feeling in her stomach rose. Her breasts felt warm and heavier and she did not understand this at all. Was this some effect shadowsingers had on the people around them?

And Nyra did not know where to look. His very umm. . . nice chest? With all those muscles and uh. . . . A little hairline that disappeared into his pants? Nyra knew she had to look away from his unreasonably attractive chest and the pants and. . . oh gods, she was also wearing pants today. But his muscles seemed to be such a delicacy. She wondered whether she could take a bite and. . . no. She had to breathe and be normal.

Nothing wrong with Azriel and the lack of a shirt. Except, it was the first time she’d seen someone without a shirt because Cassian walking in ten seconds earlier clearly slipped from her mind. And Azriel already had a very beautiful face—the kind of face you’d imagine for the male leads in historical romances. So swoon worthy that the ladies would have to fan themselves constantly lest they faint from the heat upon watching him.

Nyra took a sip of her hot chocolate, effectively hiding her face behind it for all of seven seconds before she had to put the mug down for appearance’s sake.

There was something strong in the air and it became stronger as Azriel walked towards the table. Nyra slowly realised that the smell of Nesta’s coffee, Mor’s wine and her own hot chocolate had somehow parted the way for something. . . woody? She had yet to identify it but this was not the scent of any of the foods or drinks on the table. She began focusing on people. Nesta smelled like snow touched by the sun. Feyre was like water from a stream. But this scent was cold. What was it?

And Nyra was transported back to a time when she and Nesta snuck out to the lake near their estate back when they were seven. It was a misty night and they held each other’s hands. Nyra held a lantern for the way and Nesta held a stick. They realised far too late that they had neared the lake until Nyra took a step and they heard the water beneath her foot. They had wanted to see the stars but the mist was too thick. And Nyra loved it. She loved the lake situated in the middle of the woods.

And that was the scent she recalled as Azriel walked in. And just as she realised it, Nyra tried to look away only to notice something else.

His hand—what was his hand doing and why was it doing that? Why was it playing with the Truth Teller like it was just a stick or something? She could rotate a pen in her hand like that but that was a bloody dagger. A dagger darker than the shadows, crafted from something greater. She could feel its power and how it submitted to the one who was effortlessly playing with it and what did she want with these thoughts? And his fingerless gloves with the siphon at the back of it. . .

Azriel’s face was probably the most lethal feature at the moment because this male’s face was something else entirely. Thick well-shaped eyebrows, a beautiful nose, and lips and that tongue darting out to wet his lips as he looked around with a plate for whatever he wanted for breakfast. And Nyra inhaled sharply when something tugged at her wrists.

Somewhere between looking—it was only looking, she had only seen him, it was not like she’d observed him too closely, no, no, no. Anyway, the shadows had already approached her and had secured themselves around her wrists.

Nyra looked at them and her thoughts about Azriel poofed away. She felt all her being soften for these wonderful little darlings. The shadows danced around her hands and the moment they became ticklish, she let out a laugh. The shadows seemed to take that laugh as encouragement and continued to tickle her. “Stop it.” She couldn’t stop laughing but it did end when the shadows retreated.

Nyra watched as the wonderful beings floated back to their master, realising that Azriel commanded them to retreat after she’d told them to stop. Azriel was watching her and his lips spread into a grin. Nyra suddenly felt a jolt of joy within her and she grinned back.

“Read your books?” The shadowsinger took a seat in all his bare-chested glory, finding a pear and taking a bite. The shadows poured him something she did not notice.

“Do they tell you about all that?” She spared a glance at the shadows and then returned her gaze to his. . . eyes. Of course, she was looking at his eyes. Not at his. . . the rest of his phenomenally statuesque body that she suddenly started having unspeakable thoughts about.

“That they do.” Azriel nodded. He had been surprised at seeing a wall blocking the bond from her side but Nyra this morning was somewhat of an open book.

“Are you spying on me?” Nyra asked playfully and Azriel’s eyes widened in surprise. Not much of an open book, it seemed.

“They waited outside your bedroom. They’re worried after last night.” For someone who was the Spymaster, he was openly revealing how he spied on her. Or how the shadows spied on her. Rhysand watched with a smirk hidden behind his glass of juice. Feyre hit his leg before telling him mind to mind to control his expressions.

“You waited outside my bedroom last night” The words escaped her before she could even think and once it did, she felt free and she wanted to feel like that. Nyra raised her eyebrows and smirked like a cat. Azriel choked on his beverage, not at all expecting Nyra to be flirtatious first thing in the morning. This female was never predictable.

By then, Nesta slid a plate towards Nyra, filled with toast and eggs. A bowl of fruits soon followed and so did Nesta’s piercing glare. “Eat.”

Nyra knew Nesta was probably horrified at her recent comment at Azriel. “Yes, mum.” She began with the fruits, enjoying all that she previously could not.

“Don’t ever call me that.” Nesta glared at her, taking a sip of her coffee to calm herself.

“All right.” Nyra had another piece of melon. “Mum.” At that, another plate of toast was slammed in front of her.

“Have a variety, my dear.” There was something wicked in Nesta’s voice. And Nyra knew that her perceptive twin had probably noticed her after Azriel had entered. “You need not worry about a strict diet from now on anyway.” Nesta grinned impishly. Nyra faltered, feeling like a child wary of her mother’s scolding if she did not comply. “Eat till you’re full.”

Nyra did eat. Conversation floated with Mor from Nyra’s right telling them about Amren and how cranky the old witch was and how she might end up threatening to drink their blood for lunch. The old story of Rhys and his failed flirtation with Amren came up.

“I just remembered.” And Nyra turned to Azriel. “We need to talk about last night.”

Nesta spat her coffee to the side and looked between the two of them. “What?” She asked, partially mortified at what Nyra’s words seemed to imply.

“When I lost control of my powers. I need to know more about it.” Nyra looked at her. “Don’t look at me like that.” Nesta was looking at her in complete mortification despite her clarification.

“That sounded like something else.” Nesta spoke, taking a napkin and dabbing at her chin.

“How is it my fault that those smutty romances are messing with your head?” Nyra shot back.

“Your words seemed to insinuate something.” Nesta countered.

Nyra continued to look at Nesta, unimpressed. “A whole load of your delusions, I imagine.”

“Well…” Nesta trailed away, blushing slightly and it was the horror of the morning when she accidentally met Cassian’s gaze and saw how he was looking at her. Like someone had punched him in the gut. And then he grinned like a buffoon and Nesta looked at her mug. It was empty but her mind certainly wasn’t.

“You fell asleep when we were in the shadows. I brought you back to your room.” Azriel spoke, his voice a little too deep that Nyra did notice. She looked at him. Azriel wanted to reach out and touch her cheek and hold her. Last night had been a wild stroke of luck. Not only had he held her but she had also clutched his shirt. And then he’d been privileged to embrace her again outside her bedroom. Outside was the key word here. “Nobody was hurt. You’re unhurt. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Nyra repeated, unconvinced and stared at him. Azriel held her stare, adamant at making her believe that everything was fine. Nyra broke their eye contact. “Fine.” And she resumed her meal. Azriel had finished his pear and was now moving on to the contents of his plate. Neither of them spoke or even looked at each other for the reminder of the breakfast.

****

TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @impossibelle @esposadomd @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @judig92 @bunnyredgirl @sh4nn @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kattzillaa @ronnieglennn @wallacewillow0773638 @forgiveliv @justdreamstars @donttellthecats @cat-or-kitten @jojodojo02 @wandas-dream @evylynny @weasleyreidstyles @stqrgirlies-blog @why4anne @acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe @macimads @footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley @deeshag @footyandformula @nebarious @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @5onedirection5 @hanitastic @sevikas-whore @krowiathemythologynerd @myladysapphire @freyagallileaevans @azrielrot

****

197 notes · View notes

mayhemspreadingguy · 1 month ago

Text

I attended my first ritual yesterday and I returned a different girlie 🎀

I wish to yap about it so be warned, there will be some Skeletour spoilers under the cut here.

The show understandably started with the new songs which tbh I didn't feel that strongly about just yet. However, I was completely sold when the fourth song turned out to be From the Pinnacle to the Pit, one of my beloveds. The dramatic pope robes and the pedestal? 👌

When it comes to the transition to Papa V, I was impressed by how Tobias Forge managed to change his voice slightly for the new persona. I'm not a musician so I can't pinpoint what was different but, the vocals had a different quality to it, I can only describe it as sounding more nasal to me. And it was especially noticeable during Future Is a Foreign Land. That song was such vibes live ✨.

And I absolutely get what the people were on about when they said that Ghost songs just hit different during rituals. Darkness at the Heart of My Love is a beautiful song, although not my favourite, but live it slapped good.

Oh, also, Satanized was a treat! Papa was covering behind the mic stand during the preaching segment of the song, and then later on he was sitting on the steps and rocking slightly...

Umbra with the cowbell was cool as fuck.

Unsurprisingly everyone went crazy during Year Zero, I fully expected to lose my voice for the next day, and I think it was actually a genius move to put He Is following after. It seemed impossible to top Year Zero with anything that would be as powerful so, the complete 180 in vibes with calm He Is makes much sense. Rebuilding the stained windows of the church after the shattering end of Year Zero... The combo was delightful 💜

And I'm sorry but the set design of Rats was the fucking Mustafar 😏

Papa was such a diva on the stage, prancing around, changing costumes like a girlie unable to decide which dress is serving the most.

Also, Papa V: "We have one more song so don't be fucking whimpery".

😳 okay Papa, anything you say, I saw you little over an hour but I'm already attached... Then my brain blew into the stratosphere when the song in question turned out to be the fucking Monstrance Clock!!! I did not even dare to hope they would play this one! Ngl I was more than pleased, my abused vocal cords can attest to that.

Incredible experience. Will go again 💜💜💜.

#I have much more to yap about but this is getting maybe too long 👉👈#I don't know how the rituals usually are since this was my first but oh boy was it great #the phone ban was interesting and also quite refreshing. not having to see a sea of raised hands with phones was very nice #I only felt slightly off balance when I couldn't check the time to see how much time before the start since my phone was already in the jai #yes yes I didn't think to take the watch‚ I only realised how dependant on knowing the time I am after I couldn't reach for it 😂#the band ghost #ghost bc #skeleta #skeletour #skeletour spoilers #papa v perpetua #papa emeritus iv #papa perpetua #ghost

39 notes · View notes

gadriezmannsgirl · 1 year ago

Note

Hello 🎶 it's meeeeee 🎼

Buenas, beautiful lady. I want to request something to youuuu (obvio cause I'm in your inbox 😂)

Can you do something inspired on the new smw photoshoot Pedri did 😩🔥🩷 pretty please! Do what you want, go crazy on me 😀❤️

Señorita, you're always bienvenida in my inbox💜✨ Pedri will make me go crazy😭😭 he's so gorgeous I can't even explain how beautiful that man is, dear lord😭!

Warnings: mentions of sexy times, nothing graphic it's safe for everyone to read, Pedri being a lil confident ass, reader being head over heels for Pedri. This probably doesn't make any sense💀😭 and sorry in advance if it doesn't, it's been a while since I've written something😭

Tease -P.G8

Summary: He said he wasn't feeling confident about the shoot, the results show the opposite.

"C'mon, amor. You'll look great even if you're wearing a trash suit!"

"You say that because you're my girlfriend"

"No, I say that because I'm a woman with two eyes who know how to appreciate beauty and you, mi amor, have lots of it" Pedri rolled his eyes as you shook your head and fixed the collar of the beige suit.

"I suddenly don't want to do this" He sighs "I enjoy being more in a sweatshirt and joggers"

"I know you do and you will be in sweatshirts and joggers once again when this shoot it's done, it'll be quick"

"Not quick enough"

"What will you do when you're getting your wedding suit done?"

"Wait for you to get your wedding dress done so we can marry?" You smile at him.

"Well played" He laughed softly "But let me tell you that I actually enjoy seeing you in suits, it's not often I get to see you like that, you look incredibly handsome and more mature, like a CEO... and it makes me wanna jump all over you" You state wrapping your arms around his neck, a smirk came up to your boyfriend's face and he wrapped his arms around you.

"I don't need to be in suits for you to do that" You blush and laugh.

"True. You breathe and I'm all crazy for you, González" He laughs pecking your lips a few times.

"C'mon, let's go"

"Thought you didn't wanted to do the photoshoot right away?"

"I want to get home, my girlfriend said she wants to jump all over me, I'm never passing up those chances" He winked at you while he left the room leaving you giggly and running behind him to catch him.

"Pedri, I'll need you to act confident, move around, own the shoot" The photographer said getting ready behind his camera

"I think I can do that"

"¿Qué crees? Venga mi amor, tú puedes. Vamos, con confianza" (You think? C'mon, mi amor, you can. C'mon, confidence)

And with confidence he did it. It was only a few days later when you found yourself screaming all over your house after seeing his latest IG post.

"¿Qué pasa, preciosa? ¿Todo bien? ¿Por qué el grito?" (What's wrong, precious? Is everything okay? Why the scream?)

"¿Eres tonto?" (Are you stupid?)

"¿Disculpa?" (Excuse me?)

"¿Cómo te atreves a subir fotos de ese estilo sin avisarme?" (How dare you upload photos like that without telling me?) You looked at him in disbelief "Don't you think my ovaries will explode after watching this?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Can we have your tux for our wedding done in this color? You look absolutely gorgeous-ah! oh dear god! your hair, your face, your eyes, your eyebrows... your hands! I never knew your wrist would look so good with a simple watch!"

"Y/N, can you calm down and explain to me what is going on?"

"How do you want me to calm down with you dropping these pictures?" You show your phone screen for the first time to him "I really want to have your babies, right now, Pedro González López"

Reality hit him and he started laughing. You. His girlfriend were fangirling over him.

"We can practice for them"

"How do you look so beautiful every day, every time, every second? Like... You don't get tired of it? Amor, I don't really understand what were you nervous about! I'm so lucky to have you as my boyfriend, I get to have you, all of you! ¡Dude, buah!" You let go of your phone letting it fall on the carpet still looking at Pedri "You're so pretty, I love you so much"

Pedri was blushing and his giggles were the only thing you were hearing "I love you too" He said wrapping his arms around you

"How can you be so hot and so cute at the same time?" You asked with a smile on "It's not possible"

"Welcome to the club, I have to deal every day with you being cute and sexy at the same time" You kissed his lips.

He was perfect.

"You knew what you were doing, right?" You asked after a bit of silence.

"I mean... I didn't know it would have this effect on you but I definitely need to keep doing photoshoots in suits"

"You little bastard-"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviymarcsbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela

#gadriezmannsgirl writes!#pedri x reader #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri blurb #pedri icons #pedri gonzalez icons #pedri gonzalez blurb #pedri fluff #football players x reader #football players fanfic #football imagines #pedri #gadriezmannsgirl replies

166 notes · View notes

divinit3a · 7 months ago

Note

For the ask game 💕

💕 Time for a shout-out! What are some of your fav AUs from other creators in the fandom? ⭑ dca au ask game

^-^ ....OK! I shall set down all the cakes on the table for a full buffet! Get your forks & knives out! 🍽️🍽️🍽️

please don't hesitate to let me know if you'd prefer not to be @'d in the future, or to be removed from this post u_u <3 I totally respect folk's preferences!

✨ lets go! ⭑⭑⭑ ⭑⭑⭑ ⭑⭑⭑

@muzzlemouths Dead Mall Dare / DfTR AU(s) Dead Mall Dare was one of the first AUs I read (like, literally. 1-2 months ago!) & I went woooaaah they are fun removed from original context. Isn't that so neat ?? This isn't a rabbithole to fall in, tho. u_u No wayyy guys c'mon ... /j Likewise, DfTR is a treat to watch unfold & see people squirm ^-^

@r0b0-wannabe Botanical Garden AU (or just any of your stories, but I'm.. sticking to the law...s... ) Hi, I stayed up to 2-3am drawing ur boys bc Im normal about this AU & how endearing it is... obviously... (💚) I love your writing style & characterizations. Maybe this is silly, but, I also enjoy learning about plantcare, too :3

@sinister-sincerely 2nd Choice AU Oh, you are so evil. The username matches. (A COMPLIMENT!! Hehe.) Oh, you write drama, angst/no comfort, hurting/damaged characters making awful choices so well. It was wild doing a double-take to realize YOU! are the WRITER for 2nd choice!! Some day, I will get u. For now, run 💜🔪

@wyervan Human!Slasher AU :D Yay! Both the OG/Main storyline are wonderful. I find the community version very endearing as an AU-within-an-AU. (love that!) As someone who used to run RP groups (on god!) it fills my heart with joy to see people filling out a world with so much life. Your art style is delightfully grungy ^-^/

@pluck-heartstrings - Pluck My Heartstrings AU Ohhh. I am weak to fairytale/renfaire vibes, as well as the more classic harlequin jester aesthetic u_u<3 Plus, the Vocalist/Princess is just so dang compelling, too. Your design sense is impeccable.

@moon-buggg Haunted House & Mad Scientist AUs They are both so neat & I can't wait to learn more!! The Haunted House AU designs live in my head rent free along with the comics :3

@zenkaiankoku Broken but Better AU Lovely, torn-up designs! Yay, mechanical horror! Yay, angst!! And a delightful remix of their personalities, too <3

@authormeat Alienware AU ^-^ I am instantly delighted by the weird guy freak energy & that the yn IS an alien/monster. Thats all I want & more. I also love ur designs for other AUs

...

...... 🧍 I Have More to Say

And...And... Not.. AU specific, but 🏏💥BAM , BAM 💥🏏 LOVELY FOLKS!!!!!!

🍲 <{ @soupdweller THERE IS NO ESCAPE ok but fr.. I appreciate ya, homie :3 you are a joy to chat with!! beautiful art!! evil mind!! delicious soups. i cant wait for whatever u cook up ^-^ 🐤 <{ @luckyyyduckyyy I WILL READ UR AU STORIES!! RUN & HIDE!!! you are the goofiest goober in the wild west, by goodness. i love ur energy and the gorgeous designs u create!! 🐛 <{ @chickenchirps27 ACK I COULD STARE AT UR ART FOREVER! I'll have to start volleying over illustrators I think ya might enjoy... u are so sweet & funny!! 🐐 <{ @lurking-loaf YOU ARE SO KIND! Seriously, I appreciate the fun craft projects you recommended -& your words of support :') 🔮 <{ @anis-sketches :D HI! Happy to throw recs your way. Also, your art is adorable!! 🌿 <{ @craykaycee HI TO U TOO!! the tags u leave always make me smile, and i appreciate u stopping by to say hi... :3 & MANYMANY MORE BUT I NEED TO CUT MYSELF OFF OR ELSE

Per usual, I lost sight of the original goal. But! Consider:

🏏💥WHAM , BAM 💥🏏 GOTCHU >:)

#pom yaps #dca au ask game #ask games #💚💚💚#taking a sledgehammer & appearing in YOUR walls to say hi :D #this took a few days to type up fhgdshjgf oops

69 notes · View notes

srue-on-fire · 3 months ago

Text

Gimme a break!!

I’ve got exams for four weeks and I’m off work. I need some stress relief, so I’m taking prompt requests! Drop an emoji and a number in my inbox and I’ll write something for you!

😇 sfw || 🔞 nsfw

Characters/Ships I write for:

🦌 Evan Buckley

🎖️ Eddie Diaz

❤️‍🔥 Buddie

🫂 Tarlos

🐺 Sterek

❄️ WinterIron

🦋 Stony

🪖 Stucky

✨ Malec

Read the collection of AO3!

prompts below the cut!

Prompts

1. “I’ll take care of you.”

2. “You’re my home.”

3. “I made you coffee. The good kind.”

4. “I thought I lost you.”

5. “We have a tradition, and I refuse to break it.”

6. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

7. “Come back to bed.” ❤️‍🔥

8. “I like the way you say my name.”

9. “Don’t you dare die on me.”

10. “You steal my hoodies, and I pretend not to notice.”

11. “I don’t know how to be without you.”

12. “You're my emergency contact. Why?”

13. “This is the worst plan you’ve ever had.” – “That’s just incorrect.”

14. “If you marry them, I will never forgive you.”

15. “Oh my god, we were holding hands. Did you even realize?”

16. “You left me.” – “You told me to.”

17. “I thought soulmarks were supposed to be beautiful. Why does mine just say ‘Move, asshole’?”

18. “I was supposed to protect you.” ❤️‍🔥

19. “Why are you cuddling me?” – “You were cold.” ❄️

20. “Tell me to walk away, and I will.”

21. “You need to stop sneaking out. It’s giving me a heart attack.”

22. “You’ve been staring at my lips for the last five minutes.”

23. “Do you even realize what you mean to me?” 🐺

24. “You have no idea how much I wish that was me.”

25. “You’re shaking. Come here.”

26. Stuck in a cabin during a storm. 🦌

27. One of them gets injured, the other loses their mind over it.

28. A proposal, but it doesn’t go as planned. 🦌

29. Accidental confession over a comm during a mission.

30. Undercover mission, but they have to pretend to be married.

31. Cooking together, but one of them is completely hopeless in the kitchen.

32. A game of truth or dare gets way too real.

33. Their friends keep trying to set them up, not realizing they’ve already been dating for months.

34. Character A finds Character B unconscious and panics. 🐺

35. Character A is in the hospital, and Character B refuses to leave their side.

36. Character A finds Character B asleep in their bed —again.

37. Character A can’t sleep, so Character B absentmindedly plays with their hair until they do.

38. One of them is badly injured and delirious, confessing feelings they wouldn’t say otherwise.

39. One of them is drunk and accidentally confesses something they shouldn’t have.

40. One of them is sick, and the other takes care of them, but they’re a terrible patient.

Thank you! 💜 If you share your ao3 handles, I'll tag you in the work!

26 notes · View notes

thebiggestfuckgiven · 8 months ago

Text

Ectoberweek 25: Graveyard Shift

Rating: T

Warnings: Descriptions of gore, mentions of experimentation (implied narratively and in the gore as well), mentions of loss (it still counts if its yourself/a version of you), horror, and dissociation-ish

A/N: okay I accidentally used the prompt of the same day I used last year, but maybe i’ll do it on purpose next time and invent a new tradition for myself. Danny, as usual, suffers ✨ I’m very happy I got to do a little something for Ectober this year. I was afraid I wouldn’t get the chance to. Please enjoy <3

-💜-

The night sky was startlingly clear. There were no stars, only that faint indistinguishable hue of air pollution, but it was still an amazing view. Then again, when you’ve been kept captive indoors for months on end, any view of the outside world is beautiful. Even if that view is a polluted star-less sky in a grimy, smelly city.

The cemetery he was in was no less of a spectacle, grim as it was. It had no wrought iron fence or any kind of enclosure, instead having been left open on all sides for all to come and go.

Truth be told, Danny had no idea where he was. They never told him where they were taking him when it was time to ship him to a new facility. He thought that was pointless. Who was he going to tell, really? They probably liked keeping him in the dark. Better to control that way. Whatever. The joke, now, was on both of them.

About ten or fifteen blocks away, sirens blared faintly from a scarce street. Firefighters, ambulances, police— the whole bunch of them gathered around an unmarked containment truck flipped on its side. The drivers could still be alive, if the group who had attacked them wasn’t cruel enough to change that.

Danny assumed they thought they’d find expensive tech and cutting edge resources, and they did. Sort of. What they hadn’t expected was to find Danny. The crash had made his container malfunction, and those doors opened… well, he wasn’t about to let that opportunity pass him by.

All he took with him was himself, and he left the daring group alive. They wouldn’t have known what to do with him, anyways.

He flew as fast as he could until he found this cemetery. They would start looking for him in a few hours, and if he wanted to get away, he’d have to find a hiding spot first. One of these, he figured, must be empty. Graves weren’t just for bodies, after all. Sometimes, they were for the idea of one. A body never recovered, or completely destroyed. Graves were for people, too.

He hovered over one in particular. It gave the impression that it was empty. How he knew was a mystery to him, but he was grateful for it.

The headstone read,

Stephanie Brown

Beloved Daughter, Sister, and Friend.

Your smile will always live in our hearts.

xxx xx, xxxx - xxx xx, xxx

The stone wasn’t worn or aged. She’d been “buried” recently. Hand resting gently on the headstone, he wondered what could have happened to her that she had to be buried without herself.

Far away, the sirens died down.

Maybe the answer will reveal itself to him eventually. He knelt on the soft grass and sunk a hand through the ground.

“Uh, can I help you?”

Danny froze up. That was one thing he forgot about cemeteries. Like graves, they weren’t just for the dead, either. He yanked his hand out of the ground and slowly glanced over his shoulder.

Behind him stood a young woman. The first thing he noticed were the clothes. She wore a purple beanie and a thick black jacket with a purple shirt underneath. The second thing was her hair, blonde and wavy, because it was curled around her neck like a makeshift scarf.

Glancing upwards, he saw no clouds. No snow… it was autumn already, then. But that… that meant he was gone for more than a few months. It meant he missed the whole school year. He was supposed to graduate high school in the summer.

“Are you okay? You don’t exactly look… all there.”

He faced the young woman again. The way she said it made it sound like it had a hidden meaning, which he quickly caught on to.

“I— sorry, I’ll get out of your way,” he muttered, pushing himself up to his feet, though unnecessarily so when he could’ve floated away.

“It’s all good,” she replied, watching him carefully. “Did you know her?”

“Hm? Oh, you mean Stephanie? Um, not really. I was just… paying my respects.” The lie felt misshapen in his mouth. She looked at him confused. He kept talking to steer her away from any questions. “Did you? Know her, I mean.”

“I used to,” was all she said to that. He didn’t like the way she was looking at him. He wanted to leave. “Do you live here?”

“No? What kind of person lives in a graveyard?”

Her hand still in her jacket pocket, she gestured towards all of Danny with a tilt of her head.

“Your kind of person, I’m pretty sure. Shit, unless you aren’t self-aware and I just ruined that.” Her eyes widened with genuine concern, making the reminder click in Danny’s head that he looked decidedly not-human under the night sky. That, and surrounded by well-meaning headstones, anyone would’ve walked the other way at the sight of him.

Almost anyone.

“Ah,” he said simply, looking down at his glowing, translucent self. “That. And you’re not, I dunno, shocked? Horrified?”

She shrugged. “It’s October in Gotham. I’ve seen worse.”

The statement sent a shiver like lightning right through him. A whole year… and Gotham was far but not it was still the Eastern area of the States. He could easily fly back home.

Maybe not.

How can he go back like this?

“Listen,” the blonde woman said, interrupting his thoughts. “You look a little out of it for a ghost. What brings you to this cemetery and m- Stephanie’s grave?”

“Um…” Danny glanced behind the wide headstone, where he saw himself. Danny Fenton lay lifeless and disfigured, his left leg missing and the skin of his right arm cut and held open by two tiny metal clamps attached to a single, wrap-around wire. There was muscle tissue and veins missing. The other arm was charred into an indistinguishable stump, melted skin folded over itself horrifically in too many layers, melded by heat-raised bubbles that were long solidified.

Where his left eye once was, there was now a vacant void. A window into his true self: a perfectly preserved brain thrumming with unnatural green light. Dead, and impossibly present. His other eye was still there, but just as vacant. Black hair glistened with remnants of the ectoplasmic waste they used to keep Danny Fenton fresh.

It was a quick glance. He fought not to throw up, ghostly body functioning now on memory alone.

“I thought…” that no one would see me “I’d check the place out. I paid my respects to some of the other graves.” He hesitated. He shouldn’t ask. He doesn’t want to know about Stephanie Brown, about the resting place he’ll be desecrating with the thing he became. “Hers is… empty. Can I ask what happened to her?”

The blonde woman’s reaction was small. A brief raise of the eyebrows, eyes widening for a second before going back to their watchful gaze.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you know it’s empty,” she said with a hint of a smile. “I can’t really go into any details, but let’s just say that the girl they buried there doesn’t exist anymore.”

He had no idea what that meant.

“Why do you… still visit her?”

She seemed to think this over, looking out onto the street far away from where they were.

“That girl, she was so,” the blonde woman sighed, “naive and hotheaded. She would try so hard to be something without caring to think of what it would take and in the end, it’s what did her in. But I still cared about her, and I guess I still miss her sometimes.”

The sincerity caught Danny off guard. He couldn’t help the way he stared at her, wondering if anyone talked about him like that. Did they make him a grave, or did they just… discard his memory? Would he ever get to stand over his own headstone and think of all the things he used to be, loving and missing that person?

He frowned a little, and watched the blonde woman.

She smiled fondly, a sort of bittersweetness in her expression, at the headstone. Then she took a breath, blinked a few times, and redirected her smile to Danny.

“Your turn. What are you really doing here? Looking for real estate opportunities,” she joked, eyes twinkling. Danny refrained from stepping away and turning tail. He looked at her closely.

She didn’t seem familiar, but the GIW were growing larger and there were plenty of operatives that Danny has never met. Her jacket was big enough to hide a blaster… but they couldn’t have found him so quickly. No, besides, no self-respecting operative would wear such expressive colors.

“Something like that,” he blurted out before he could even think. “I mean, not like that. I don’t… I don’t know anymore.” His voice was a soft whisper and he stared at himself where he lay crumpled. “I don’t think I can go back home anymore. I don’t… I don’t know who I am. What I am. People aren’t supposed to… live through things like these, aren’t they? Die through, or whatever.”

“What things?” The question was tentative. “Are you— what are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” he said with bitter conviction. “Absolutely nothing. I was going to hide it in your coffin.”

“How did you—? wait, hide what?” Her voice changed from its friendly, wistful tone to a razor-sharp serious one. She stepped closer to him, trying to meet his gaze.

“Got a feeling. Like I might do the same one day, if I had one.”

Danny didn’t stop her when she got too close to her own headstone. When she followed the direction of his gaze to the twisted, hollow thing that ate up the surrounding shadows like this blacker than black void that was trying to grow into a walking, lifeless monster made up of clinical pain and suffering.

Stephanie did not scream or gasp. She held the headstone in a brutal grip, short nails painfully scraping against it. Her mouth gaped wordlessly, jaw trembling with shaky and uneven breaths. The lines of her face contorted into themselves in their attempt to make sense of the thing they were seeing. Eyes glistened even in the shadows, their pupils a disappearing pinprick.

Stephanie’s horror was a silent one.

“What— wh-who is that? Is that—?”

“Me,” he said flatly. “I thought I’d be able to escape. That I would last longer than their curiosity and hate.” He clenched his fists. “I saw a glimpse of snow the day it happened. I” —his voice cracked— “I didn’t even make it three months.”

Stephanie stared at him, transfixed. At the Danny Fenton that would never again be.

“Wh-what happened to you?” Her voice trembled, barely a breeze-like whisper.

“Don’t ask me that,” he said, strained and holding back suffocating memories. “P-please don’t— just, don’t.” He took a gasping breath, eyes snapping wildly towards the sound of screeching tires in the distance. A big car headed their way. “Hey, listen. Hey— Stephanie.”

A creaking slingshot, her wide stare shot back towards him. Her mouth had been snapped shut, and loud, shallow breaths tried to push themselves in and out of her nose.

“Take care of him, please,” he begged, bright, opalescent tears falling freely down his face. “They can’t find him again. The pain will never end again. Just— I, I don’t know, get him a coffin or anything, but don’t bury him yet. I’ll find him again, but I can’t stay. I can’t, they can’t find us again. Promise me, please?”

This was a complete stranger in front of him. But she had her own grave, and she stood over it alive and well. He had to trust her with the only thing he had left. She would understand that. She had to.

“Stephanie, please,” he pleaded once more when she said nothing. The loud engine of that big car became louder. The downward rush of a thick, heavy axe.

She nodded, shakily.

“I-I promise, yeah.” She cleared her throat, pulling herself from the edge and regaining clarity. “Yes. I will. Go, I’ll- I’ll take care of it. Whatever it is.”

Danny cried. An urgency was overtaking him, thrusting him into that day they hunted him down.

“Thank you,” he managed to whisper before shooting off into the clear night sky, leaving behind a faint comet-green streak. He disappeared in seconds, leaving Stephanie Brown alone with the horrifyingly disfigured corpse of a teenager and her clattering thoughts.

She pulled out her phone in a shaky flash, going straight to the Favorites in her Contacts.

The call connected after the third ring.

“I need your help hiding a body.”

#dpxdc #ectoberhaunt24 #ectoberweek24 #ectober day 25 #i saw the word ‘graveyard’ and ran away with it like a maniac #the shift part?#danny @ stephanie: it’s ur turn with my tortured dead body bye #WHO DO WE THINK STEPHANIE CALLED?#the answer might be obvious but then again it might not be #this was fun #happy halloween!!!#cw body horror #cw gore #horror

37 notes · View notes