#J Heat

[ame-to-ame]

extremely self indulgent btr doodles <3

once again drawing the band members mostly from memory;;

[small-z24]

One-Shot: Shadows of Destiny

Summary:

Amidst the turmoil of a heated argument, an explosion forces Y/N to protect Azriel, resulting in both of them being injured. As Y/N tends to Azriel's unconscious form, the mating bond snaps into place, revealing their deep connection. When Azriel awakens, he must confront his feelings and the bond that has been hidden for years. Together, they face their newfound reality, united by a love that can withstand any challenge.

Word Count: 1118

Warnings: This story includes scenes of violence and injury, emotional distress, and themes of fear and guilt. There are mentions of medical procedures and some explicit language. If any of these topics are triggering for you, please read with caution.

The training room echoed with the clash of steel and the heavy breathing of the two combatants. Azriel and Y/N had been sparring for hours, their frustration and emotions fueling every strike and parry. The tension between them had been building for weeks, and tonight it had finally reached its breaking point.

"You're holding back!" Y/N shouted, her voice trembling with anger as she swung her blade at Azriel.

He deflected the blow with ease, his expression hard. "I'm not going to hurt you, Y/N."

"I don't need your protection, Azriel!" she snapped, stepping back to catch her breath. "I need you to treat me like an equal."

Azriel's jaw tightened as he lowered his sword. "You are my equal, but that doesn't mean I want to see you hurt."

Y/N’s eyes flashed with fury. "You don’t get it, do you? You never do! I’m not some fragile thing that needs to be coddled. I’m a warrior, just like you!"

Azriel’s shadows swirled around him, mirroring his agitation. "I know you’re strong, Y/N. But I can’t just turn off my feelings for you. I care about you too much."

"Care?" Y/N scoffed, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. "You think this is about care? It’s about respect. If you can’t respect me as a warrior, then what’s the point?"

Azriel took a step closer, his eyes burning with intensity. "I respect you more than anyone else. But watching you get hurt... it tears me apart."

Y/N’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. "Why? Why does it matter so much to you?"

Before Azriel could respond, a sudden explosion rocked the training room. The walls shook, and debris rained down around them. Y/N’s eyes widened in horror as she saw a large piece of the ceiling break free, heading straight for Azriel.

Without thinking, she lunged forward, pushing him out of the way. The debris struck her instead, knocking her to the ground. Azriel scrambled to her side, his shadows wrapping around them both protectively.

"Y/N!" he cried, his voice filled with panic.

She groaned, pain shooting through her body. "I'm fine," she managed to say, her voice weak. "Just... get us out of here."

Azriel scooped her up in his arms, his heart pounding with fear and guilt. He carried her out of the training room, his shadows helping to clear a path through the rubble. Once they were safe, he laid her down gently, his hands trembling.

"Stay with me, Y/N," he whispered, his voice breaking.

She nodded weakly, her vision blurring. "Azriel..."

As she lost consciousness, Azriel’s heart shattered. He had failed to protect her, failed to keep her safe. The guilt and fear consumed him as he held her close, his shadows wrapping around them both in a protective cocoon.

Y/N awoke in the healing quarters of the House of Wind, her body aching but her mind sharp. She tried to sit up, but a gentle hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Easy," Majda, the healer, said softly. "You’ve been through a lot."

"Azriel," Y/N gasped, her heart racing. "Where is he?"

Majda’s expression turned somber. "He’s alive, but he’s in bad shape. He shielded you from the worst of the explosion. He hasn’t woken up yet."

Y/N’s heart clenched with fear and guilt. She had pushed him out of the way, but he had still been injured protecting her. "I need to see him."

Majda nodded, helping her to her feet. "He’s in the next room. But you need to rest too, Y/N. You’re still recovering."

Y/N nodded, but her focus was on Azriel. She moved to the next room, her heart breaking at the sight of him lying unconscious, his body covered in bandages. She approached his bedside, tears streaming down her face.

"I’m so sorry, Azriel," she whispered, taking his hand in hers. "I should have been more careful."

As she touched him, a sudden warmth spread through her, and she gasped as the mating bond snapped into place. It was an overwhelming sensation, a connection that went beyond anything she had ever felt. She knew, in that moment, that Azriel was her mate.

"Azriel," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please wake up. I need you."

Days passed, and Y/N stayed by Azriel’s side, her heart aching with the knowledge of their bond. She spoke to him, telling him stories and sharing her feelings, hoping that her voice would reach him.

Finally, one evening, Azriel stirred. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked around, disoriented. When his gaze landed on Y/N, a wave of relief washed over him.

"Y/N," he croaked, his voice weak.

She leaned forward, tears of joy streaming down her face. "I’m here, Azriel. I’m right here."

He reached out, his hand trembling as he cupped her cheek. "I thought I lost you."

She shook her head, her heart overflowing with love. "You saved me. You always save me."

Azriel took a deep breath, his eyes filled with emotion. "Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you."

She nodded, her heart pounding. "I know. I felt it too."

His eyes widened in surprise. "You did?"

She smiled, her tears falling freely. "Yes. The bond... it snapped into place when I touched you. I know you’re my mate, Azriel."

Relief and joy filled his eyes as he pulled her into a gentle embrace. "I’ve known for a while," he admitted, his voice trembling. "But I was afraid. Afraid of what it would mean for us."

She held him close, her heart bursting with love. "We’re in this together, Azriel. Always."

Their lips met in a desperate, passionate kiss, the weight of their words and the bond between them igniting a fire that had been smoldering for too long. They poured all their frustration, love, and longing into that kiss, finally allowing themselves to embrace the bond that had been waiting for them.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads remained pressed together, their breaths mingling. Azriel’s shadows wrapped around them both, a protective cocoon that shielded them from the world.

"I love you, Y/N," Azriel whispered, his voice filled with reverence.

"I love you too, Azriel," she replied, her heart full and whole.

In that moment, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, united by the bond that had finally snapped into place. Their love, forged in the heat of argument and tempered by their shared strength, was unbreakable. And as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, they knew they had found their true home in each other.

[hikarry]

Do you think Hastur has nightmares with Crowley saying "Do you feel lucky?" after he saw said individual bath in a tub of Holy Water. Holy Water that was used to threaten him while he thought the freak was not immune to? But turns out (he thinks) Crowley is? Do you think he saw his life flash before his tiny black eyes when Crowley asked the Archangel Michael for a towel?

[deztryx]

GWOMP MORE OF THIS STUFF CAUSE THEYRE FUN TO MAKE

:3

[dismas-n-dismay]

Me after reading a typical wtfoctagon fic (it literally is a master class in lesbian writing)

[uter-us]

being a woman can be so disheartening, and men are so ignorant to this fact that they view women's fear of men as their own oppression. like as if I am just being cruel and want to view male strangers as potential threats ?

i was walking home from the grocery store yesterday and was struggling to hold my bag (the strap is broken) and it's heavy, and it's hot out. and I cross the street and there's only 1 car waiting for me to cross, and the driver sticks his head out the window to ask if I need a ride. I say no thanks, and he asks again and I say no again. I cross the street and am walking on the sidewalk in front of a gas station and the same car slows down next to me, he rolls down his window and asks where I am headed (like to give me a ride), and again i say no, and I have to do this whole like performance almost. like I step further back from the road, put my hand out between us , shake my head, basically I make it known to anyone witnessing who couldnt hear my "no", that I'm NOT leaning in closer to speak to him, I'm not trying to engage w him, im not seeming inviting or comfortable or like i know him, so there is no misunderstanding to onlookers.

and I can understand why this must be frustrating for men, like thinking "I was j tryna do something nice!" -- I see that frustration ! -- but literally why blame women ?? like its kinda miserable having to doubt kindness from strangers, because when you don't, it would risk your safety. i see men say women/feminists "villanize" men. literally why would we choose this? we are not out for yall, some of yall ARE villains, so please take it up w one another if women dont trust your genuine kind gestures

i absolutely understand that any negative assumption abt someone's character will hurt them ofc, and am sympathetic to that pain, and simulatenously i do find there's some lack of empathy (or at least the very least lack of understanding) from men, when they think this assumption is malicious. I just can't risk my safety for their feelings, and I wouldn't want other women and girls to either

[unknawn]

"You've been here for years now, how is this hot for you still?"

I really love making these little summer drawings ask for ones you want 🙏

[stormvanari]

mermay means:

🦑Abyss AU🦑

disassembly drone edition

[unicornpopcorn14]

1, 8, or 32 for skk (from the hug prompts) 🥹👉🏻👈🏻

bestie you can’t do this to me i will request all of them

THEY'RE ALL SUCH GOOD PROMPTS I AGREEEE

Hug prompts

Decided to go for 1- "Are you cold? You look like you're freezing."

Additionally, for @dazaibirthdayweek2024 Day 3: Good Intentions + Masks

Words: 3.3k. Hope you like it, Essie!! :D

Rings a Bell

You’d think being stuck with your former partner/enemy in a confined space is the worst thing that can happen to a person…

But no, it can get worse, when said confined space happens to be a fucking freezer room.

Yeah, Chuuya has no idea what led them to this. Well, he does, but thinking about it too hard might cause his fifth aneurism today, and, less importantly, dissipate his already fickle energy.

A snicker resounds from beside him, “Chuuya’s growling like a dog again!”

“Shut the fuck up before I hang you from that meat hook myself…” He tries to give his usual bite, but it falls short as his stomach lurches again, feeling awful in all sorts of places.

Great news: he can’t see shit. Mostly blurry shapes and wavering colors, but never past that. It doesn’t help that he has the fattest migraine of the century, accompanied by an urge to vomit he honestly doesn’t know how he managed to fight against this long. Arahabaki, the damn scoundrel, decides to stay standstill and let him handle this one on his own. Fucking fantastic.

He had been told what poison he’s been injected with, but he can’t for the life of him remember the name right now.

And who’s to blame for all of this? You guessed it.

“Chuuya!!” Dazai claps with a higher-than-normal-pitch, which successfully sends stronger-than-usual-ringing to his ears, “How did you know the new method I was planning to try out?! And you’re offering to help me?! My, you should get poisoned more often!”

“You’re lucky I currently am, piece of shit…” God, he wanted to sound harsher than that– perhaps come up with a more creative thing to retort with, but that all gets swept away by low groans and helpless eye rolls…

Chuuya doesn’t know why he even bothers with looking out for that bastard when all he does is become a pain in the ass afterwards. Every time he tells himself he would wholly ignore his former partner the next joint mission, something like this happens which throws all of his vows to the curb:

Dazai was probably distracted, probably not, but Chuuya grabbed him aside anyways, rendering him without an ability for just a second.

And right then a needle buried in his neck.

They got their asses handed to them immediately afterwards, because of course, and the fuckers decided to add onto their frozen meat collection today of all days– thus, their predicament.

Which consists of opposite organization members seated in a freezer room against an icy wall, the mafia member certainly looking more limp and uncoordinated than the other. Chuuya doesn’t know how Dazai’s seated, but he’s 90% sure he isn’t staying still for the life of him, so guessing that would be impossible.

“Think Koyou-san will send a search party after you?” The question comes out as slyly as you’d think a Dazai-question would come out.

“This fast? No… She knows I can handle myself…” Dazai should already know this, as nothing has changed much in the last four years. Chuuya groans out, breathing coming in difficult, “I’d have to be gone for an entire week before she gets worried.”

“Hm, same with the Agency. But not that long. Just a day at most…” He hears shifting from beside him once again, overly wary of his surroundings since his sight is on hold, “So we’re stuck here until the poison symptoms wear off. Alone. Together. Great.” Dazai concludes like it wasn’t fucking obvious.

“At least you have the blessing of seeing in front of you.” Chuuya closes his eyes to stop his spinning vision, as perhaps that can help keep the migraine at bay, “Do you realize… how nerve-racking it is to stay this close to you while blind?! You might try anything…!”

“That’s right!” Dazai chirps, his enthusiasm successfully making Chuuya’s nerves prickle, “Chuuya better use his ultra-deduction-instincts if he wishes to stand a chance!”

He grimaces while thumping his head back, wanting to re-demand the other to shut up for how splitting his voice rings in his skull, but Dazai would probably take that as an opportunity to scream, so he resorts to: “God, I hate you…”

From (unfortunate) experience, and seeing how high on the awful-feeling scale this falls, Arahabaki will stay asleep for twenty more minutes -adding to the fifteen he already suffered through-, until he finally feels the need to fucking do something and starts kicking his freaky immune system to life.

His breath comes out as condensed clouds, each intake of breath colder than the last. The shitty smell of raw meat doesn’t help with the nausea, and he has half a mind to sleep all of this off, but leaving the suicidal freak alone with metal hooks all around is probably a wildly stupid idea. He’s still weighing his options-

“I’m booooored!!” Dazai suddenly whines, high pitched and grating. Chuuya jolts, opening his eyes in order to send the other a scowl out of habit.

Only various shades of brown meet his vision, swimming before him. The migraine remerges tenfold,  “Wh-”

“Chuuya, entertain me!” Dazai leans onto him, shoulder to shoulder, so roughly that the clench of his stomach tightens. Chuuya barely has the energy to push the bastard back, said bastard surely aware of that, “Be my jester! Now, now!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that? Hey-”

Just as Dazai straightens on his own, Chuuya feels his fedora getting snatched, followed by low chuckles and murmurs of “Disgusting hat, I’mma burn you when we’re out of here…”

If Chuuya were to sound crazy, he’d have told you that Dazai is purposely being extra obnoxious right now– ridiculously so, but four years of separation might have granted him the blessing of forgetting how annoying Dazai could truly get, thus doesn’t humor that thought…

“You have two seconds before I start calling for grantors of dark disgrace and level this whole room over your head.” He warns, and doubts this is a good idea at all (Forcing Arahabaki awake is never a good idea). But he’s seriously getting tipped over the edge and the drug rushing in his veins isn’t helping in the slightest, “Give it, now.”

Dazai stays silent for a few seconds. A few seconds too long. Catching a glimpse of his face threatens to empty out the contents in his stomach, so Chuuya just decides to close his eyes again and relish this brief moment of piece, brushing the flicker of confusion aside.

Then the grating is back, “Fiiiine…”

It’s weird how Dazai takes his already outstretched hand and places the fedora on top of it, even lingering the hold on his gloved fingers for a second before letting go. Weird, but not concerning.

“Smart choice.”  He plants his belonging back on his head, sighing lowly. The option of sleeping sounds like a dream right now– would save him the trouble of handling the two constant problems in his life at once. But nothing ever feels as good as it sounds in Chuuya’s case– sometimes his comfort comes with a heavy price, even.

Suffering through this it is, then.

“Ne, you really still can’t see?” Dazai leans onto him again– not as roughly, but certainly making Chuuya lose his balance all the same, “What about the headache? Is it getting any better? Is it? I’m bored- can you see yet? Can y-”

“No I fucking can’t, that’s why we’re still here!” Chuuya exclaims, successfully shoving him off, unable to handle Dazai’s toddler whining a second longer, “You think I wouldn’t have kicked the door down the second I regained my ability?!”

“Eh, you’re right. The air smells so bad when a dog is sharing it with me.” Dazai taunts, and must be leaning back onto the wall now, legs overly outstretched before him (probably rocking his heels back and forth) because God forbid he ever sit normally, “Too bad the door is too sturdy to budge with my kicks.”

“Cuz you’re a wuss.”

“Cuz it’s sturdy.” The other stresses, then it’s silent for a few minutes. The moment the headache begins to dissipate into a buzzing sting, rather than pounding ache, Dazai decides he should resume the torture session,

“Chuuya should cut his hair.”

That’s… so random. Even by Dazai standards. “What the he- Are you touching it?!”

Fingers tug on the longer end of his hair, brushing it, “Need scissors.”

Chuuya wishes he could recoil back in disgust, he really does, “Keep your grubby fingers to yourself, piece of shit! You know how much product I use?!” He tries to smack the hand away, never lands on it, “They’re worth your damn hands.”

Dazai blows a raspberry, and the fingers meekly abort, “My bad for trying to make a slug look a hundred times better.”

“This is neither the time nor place for it, freak.”

“Oh, so you agree to cutting it later? Consent granted!”

Chuuya springs up from the wall, “THAT’T NOT WHAT I-” At the violent lurch he receives in his abdomen, he gags mid-sentence, but thankfully doesn’t fully throw up. Or unthankfully. He isn’t sure what’s better for him at the moment. He tries to breathe through the acid in his throat, “Fuck…”

He hears shifting from beside him, peeking to deduce Dazai hugging his knees now– rocking back and forth? He closes his eyes again, wishing time wasn’t a slow bitch at the moment. One arm presses to his abdomen, right where it’s angry and upset, the other stays numb on the floor beside him. Several clouds form in front of his lips, with him somehow sweating midst the freezing room, the water cooling on his burning skin terrifyingly fast. Perhaps a minute more and they’d turn solid.

“Can your trusty dusty chaos God wake up any faster?” Oh, right. Dazai isn’t dead yet, so peace for him isn’t an option, “Does turning him off and on again works?”

Chuuya rigids once something that feels like ice pokes his cheek,

“Fucking hell, when did you find an ice cube?” He uncoordinatedly smacks the thing away, which turns out to be a hand. Huh. “You already know the answer to that, bastard. Why are you even trying?”

“Worth it…” He giggles, something breathy about it, off. Chuuya pauses, sharpening his hearing instantly, because anything off regarding Dazai is always a bad sign, and his sense about this never lies. Call it a sixth sense, if you will. “Besides, pestering Chuuya when he’s weak is fun! You think I won’t take my chances? You really don’t know me at all!”

At that his concentrated frown dissipates, immediately replaced by one of assessment.

“Wait a second…” He keeps his head hanged and eyes closed, but his tone rumbles all the same, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Whatever you mean, sluggy poo?”

Chuuya doesn’t fall for the bait, sharpening his hearing even more, “I thought you were being annoying just for the sake of it, but now you’re outright telling me you’re being annoying?” He lifts his head to look at the direction of the other, sending a glare with closed eyes, “You’re trying to hide something. Out with it.”

“Pfff, paranoid much, aren’t we?”

And just like that, Chuuya catches it.

The shivers in the other’s breathing, that automatically translate to shudders in his speech, are so subdued, desperately trying to stay hidden from him, trying to get concealed behind loud pitches and provoking fronts.

It’s a testament to how far gone his mind is in order for that to escape him.

“You’re-” Without asking for verbal confirmation that he wouldn’t get, Chuuya hurriedly takes off his gloves, “Gimme that- where is it?” He blindly wanders till he finds a bandaged wrist and grasps it. The stiffen of the other gets ignored as his hands travel to the only bare parts in Dazai’s body– his fingers and face. The fingers are frigid to the point where he can’t hold them for more than a few seconds, while the moment he clumsily smacks the face in order to cup it with both hands, it’s like all his body heat rushes to it– the skin cold, hungry and craving any kind of warmth, “What the hell- you’re fucking freezing!”

“Wow, what an astute observation, Chuuya.” He hears the roll of the other’s eyes, as Dazai’s quivering fingers hold onto both of Chuuya’s wrists, trying to push them away from his face but not putting that much effort into it, “It’s not like we’re literally in a freezer room.”

“No- this isn’t normal.” Chuuya declares, squeezing the cheeks in. How come cold skin can burn so much? “We’ve only been here for like…”

“Twenty minutes?”

“Exactly. Doesn’t it take about… way longer for hypothermia to kick in?”

“That’s you! You’re the abnormal one!” Dazai exclaims, sounding more genuine than he has been since they’ve been thrown in here. Scratch that– since he’d known him, “You think all people come with a built-in heater? I thought you realized that that’s not the case during your mission in Siberia. And you call me a fish.”

Chuuya pauses promptly. Oh, right. Sometimes he forgets that he isn’t the only one who occasionally wakes up to screams coming from within, or feels unprecedented urge to unleash chaos in stressful situations, or even runs way warmer than others. These are constants in his life. Constants he has to remind himself that no other person experiences…

And even if Arahabaki is asleep, the remnants of his abnormally high temperature is still very much intact. Chuuya doesn’t feel much past the chills of the poison itself, other than that? Coolness at best at his extremists. He’d need to stay here thirty minutes longer for the real frigidness to kick in…

Though Chuuya is equally aware that while his core temperature is abnormally high, Dazai’s core temperature is, funnily enough, abnormally low. Leave him out in the snow for a few minutes and you’d get a hypothermic mackerel popsicle in no time.

Chuuya grimaces. Stupid, stupid.

How could he forget that? His mind defends him, tells him it must have been the poison, that it must have played a part in brushing that fact aside. Chuuya wants to curse it out. He’s retained many random facts about Dazai by heart– so, so many, some even entirely useless; but when it comes to important stuff he somehow has to be reminded of them the hard way. What is wrong with him?

Well, time to make up for that. Harshly, because the bastard deserves it.

“I’m perfectly normal, thank you very much.” He lies through his teeth, but his voice is almost soft, fingers still intact with the skin cosplaying an ice wall, “You’re the one with a terrible immune system that is eager to kill you at the first given chance.”

Dazai chuckles, breathily once again. Shakily, the accurate word for it. “Dying by hypothermia i-isn’t too bad, actually!”

“Just- fucking drop it, will you? You don’t need to do that shit.” Once again he grits out softer than intended, finally cutting the contact. If he had his eyes working, he’d have seen the way Dazai chases the hands for a second before collecting himself and drawing back, “Come closer before I snatch you by the hair.”

“Chuuya wouldn’t have the energy to, anyway…” Dazai finally sounds as slurred and exhausted as he should, and Chuuya’s thankful he can even move– numbness probably there but hasn’t fully settled in.

“You remember our code?”

“Code white? O-Of course I do. Have many fond memories with it.” He hears the rustle of fabric, which means that Dazai is taking off his coat. Chuuya does the same, if a little slower.

“Stage?”

“Mild.”

Chuuya exhales, “Thank fuck, I wasn’t looking forward to sharing body heat with you properly.”

There is a pause, then, “…Severe, then.” He sees the smirk in the Dazai’s face without the need to see at all.

“That so? I’ll bash your head against that metal wall, then.” He knocks behind him twice, just as he senses Dazai drawing near, “Seems like it would do the trick nicely.”  

“No thanks, I-I change my mind. I’d like the mild-stage treatment.”

“Just as I thought.”

Chuuya suddenly feels a weight on his lap, and acts. He takes both of their coats and wraps them with it as make-shift blankets, just as Dazai gets comfortably seated, ear over Chuuya’s heart, knees tucked close. The redhead presses his lips on the hair beneath him before he can help it, feeling the frost that has settled there. One arm supports the taller’s shoulder and back, while the other wraps around Dazai’s midsection, keeping him caged in.

Now without the need to hide anything, Dazai’s shivers turn to trembles, rocking him to his core and rocking Chuuya along with it. The brunette wraps the coats tighter around himself, pulse audibly rapid and panicking, trying to compensate the body for the heat it lost apace.

Chuuya’s migraine begins dissipating a little, and he dares open his eyes, to find the variety of colors taking the form of actual shapes, now. He relaxes, just as he feels Dazai do the same– their positioning, strange as it may come for them, somehow feeling utterly natural…

“Gosh, I almost forgot your stupid tendency to never speak up in situations like this.” The mafioso chastises midst the curls, “What? Were you trying to make up for the fact that I got drugged cuz of you?” Chuuya is sure there might be a number of other reasons, like the fact that Dazai could have simply been waiting to die like that– to pass out from the cold and never feel it when Chuuya tries to wake him up again.

But Dazai’s silence grants him an abundance of answers, one of them that confirms his verbal question, and he tskes in displeasure.

“Goody-two-shoes act that makes me sick...” He rasps, his upset stomach comforted with the added pressure to it.

Dazai huffs, finding the energy to nuzzle his cheek to Chuuya’s chest exactly like a freaking cat, “My personal heater…”

At how weirdly endearing that sounds, Chuuya bristles, “I’m not your fucking-”

“Along with being my dog? Too many jobs for your brain to handle, Chibi…!” Dazai’s slurred speech sounds funny, but the words themselves cause the shorter to growl, “You’ll overwork yourself!”

“Your neck is in a perfect position to get snapped. Watch your words.”

“Hm…” Dazai takes the threat in stride, one of his hands that was lost under the blanket coming up to hold onto Chuuya’s shoulder, “The air still smells bad, by the way.”

“Then I’ll keep you trapped in it for longer.” Chuuya counters, sharing his former partner’s frigidness without mind or care. He meekly feels the forehead concealed under brown bangs, to find it minutely warmer than before. Good, great.

“How much longer are we staying here again…?” Dazai asks.

Chuuya blinks, cozy, “Not much. I can see better now.”

“Mm, then all your strength will be back in ten minutes at most…”

“Of course you still memorize the exact cooldown duration of my ability.” Chuuya would have rolled his eyes if it weren’t for his splitting headache, “Why am I not surprised?”

Dazai keeps quiet, head hanging as he mumbles, “Chuuya’s the one with a bad memory…”

The redhead pauses, unable to deny the present truth before him, “Maybe…” He mumbles back, then huffs, “But at least you’re a thorn in my side that annoyingly reminds me of the kind of stuff I eagerly want forgotten…”

“If it’ll make Chuuya miserable,” Dazai tilts his head up. Chuuya sees the smile so clear, bright and giddy. Blurry at the edges but real. “I’ll always be a thorn in his side that will always keep annoyingly reminding him…”

Something leaps in his heart at the connotation embedded in these words, of his former partner vowing to never leave again, to forever be a part of the mafioso’s life despite what life has done them, despite the circumstances. And Chuuya himself vows to never forget how such a simple word almost sent him in a haze of emotions so deep and human. The word always.

His hold tightens, and he hides his face before mumbling, “Of course it will make me miserable, bastard…”

~~~~

Hc for context: I’m a ‘Chuuya has amnesia as a trauma response’ believer. Like yeah he remembers some details regarding missions but otherwise blocks out anything his mind deems too stressful to deal with. “Your mission in Siberia” Actually had most of his subordinates die because they stayed for the cold too long. :’) Obviously, some missions with Dazai are in that chunk as well, along with the entirety of Stormbringer cuz I said so jnrgjrn.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!! This wasn’t my best work so forgive me, Essie! I’ll try my best to edit and tweak some things in here when I have the energy. <33

[beepmeowiskarkat]

kisses

[freethrows]

Mar 26, 2024

[small-z24]

One-Shot: The Breaking Point

Summary: A heated exchange between Y/N and Azriel leaves them both broken hearted.

Word Count: 958

Warnings: None but so much angst

The House of Wind stood silent and imposing under the pale light of the moon. Inside, the tension was palpable. The Night Court's inner circle had gathered in the main hall for a meeting that had quickly turned heated.

Y/N stood with her arms crossed, her eyes blazing with defiance as she faced off against Azriel. The usually composed Shadowsinger was visibly agitated, his shadows writhing around him like a storm ready to break.

"You had no right to interfere, Y/N," Azriel snapped, his voice low but filled with anger. "This mission was dangerous, and you put yourself at risk without consulting anyone."

Y/N's eyes narrowed, her own anger flaring. "I did what needed to be done, Azriel. You were taking too long to make a decision, and I couldn’t just sit by and watch people suffer."

Azriel took a step closer, his shadows swirling around him menacingly. "You’re reckless and impulsive. Do you have any idea what could have happened? You could have been killed."

"Reckless?" Y/N scoffed, refusing to back down. "I saved lives, Azriel. While you were hesitating, I took action. Maybe you should thank me instead of berating me."

Azriel's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "This isn't a game, Y/N. Every decision has consequences, and you need to learn to think before you act."

"Don't patronize me," Y/N shot back, her voice rising. "I'm not a child, and I don’t need you or anyone else telling me what I can and cannot do."

The other members of the Night Court watched the exchange with varying degrees of concern and discomfort. Rhysand and Feyre exchanged a worried glance, while Cassian and Mor looked ready to intervene if necessary.

Azriel's jaw tightened, his eyes dark with a mix of frustration and something deeper—something that Y/N couldn't quite place. "You think you know everything, don’t you? You think you're invincible."

Y/N stepped closer, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "And you think you can control everything and everyone. Maybe if you trusted people more, you wouldn't feel the need to."

Azriel’s eyes flashed with hurt and anger. "This isn’t about control. This is about keeping you safe. Why can’t you see that?"

Y/N's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. "Because you don't trust me, Azriel. You never have."

Silence fell over the room, the weight of her words hanging between them. Azriel's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features.

"I do trust you, Y/N," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't lose you. Not like this."

Y/N's anger ebbed slightly, replaced by a mix of confusion and sorrow. "Why, Azriel? Why does it matter so much to you?"

As she stared into his eyes, she felt a strange pull, a connection that she had never noticed before. It was as if her very soul was reaching out to his, recognizing something profound and unbreakable. The realization hit her like a tidal wave, leaving her breathless.

"No," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It couldn’t be. We can’t be... mates."

Azriel's eyes widened slightly, and Y/N could see the truth in them. He had known. He had known all along.

"You knew," she said, her voice rising with a mixture of anger and betrayal. "You knew and you didn't tell me."

Azriel stepped closer, his expression pained. "Y/N, I—"

"How could you?" she interrupted, tears welling in her eyes. "How could you keep something like this from me?"

Azriel reached out, but she took a step back, shaking her head. "I didn’t want to overwhelm you. I didn’t want to risk our friendship, our partnership."

Y/N’s heart ached with the weight of his words. "But you did risk it, Azriel. By not telling me, you made the decision for both of us. You didn’t trust me enough to handle the truth."

Azriel’s shoulders sagged, his shadows wrapping around him protectively. "I thought I was protecting you."

"Protecting me?" Y/N laughed bitterly. "You were protecting yourself. You were afraid of what it would mean for us."

Azriel’s eyes pleaded with her, his voice breaking. "I was afraid of losing you."

Y/N took a deep breath, her anger mingling with the hurt. "Well, you might have just done that."

The room was silent, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. The other members of the Night Court watched, their expressions a mix of sympathy and concern.

"Y/N," Azriel began, his voice desperate. "Please, I’m sorry. I know I should have told you. I was wrong. But I love you. I’ve loved you for so long, and I didn’t want to ruin everything."

Y/N’s heart twisted at his confession. "Love isn’t about keeping secrets, Azriel. It’s about trust, and you broke that trust."

Azriel’s face crumpled with regret. "I know. And I’ll do whatever it takes to earn it back. Just... don’t walk away."

Y/N closed her eyes, trying to steady her racing heart. "I need time, Azriel. Time to process this, to figure out what it means for us."

Azriel nodded, his expression filled with sorrow. "Take all the time you need. I’ll be here, waiting for you."

With that, Y/N turned and left the room, her emotions in turmoil. The bond had snapped into place, but the road ahead was uncertain and filled with pain. As she walked away, she couldn’t help but wonder if they would ever truly find their way back to each other.

And Azriel, standing in the silent hall, felt the weight of his choices and the fragile hope that one day, they might heal the rift that had formed between them.

[violent-crimsolver]

(OOC: Just thought I'd make another thread for this)

Frank Goes to the space pod, to administer the Droidex.

"Hey! J, Cyn! Are you in here?"

@afrankwestaskblog

Cyn poked her head out of the pod, then came out into the freezing weather with a curious stare.

Oh? Hello again, Mr. Frank West. J is currently on a hunt for stuff to fix the space pod. The cooling systems broke down, and J isn't very fond of the heat.

[hesperidia]

bsd 116 out of context:

[courts-and-chaos]

SMT doodle dump :3

Smt II (yeah...I prefer aleph's og design SO WHAT)

Lucifer-i mean Louis Cypher oopies

dds stands for damn, demon sitcom

[hop-a-lot]

Why does Saxton strike me as the kind of individual who would wear fluffy pajamas with bunny slippers and a nightcap? (and bidwell matching with him)

Saxton would always be the nude sleeper to me, though he probably would wearing a fluffy pajamas during winter season so he could wrap himself around Bidwell for keeping him warm when they're spooning, adding extra layer to the already-burritoed Bidwell. as well as wearing a nightcap fitted with croc teeth and a pair of white bunny slippers