#The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee

[judgingbooksbycovers]

The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee: Native America from 1890 to the Present

By David Treuer.

[assassinsblade]

Arrows and Ashes | 3

Azriel's determined to help you get better. You are determined that you are fine.

WC: 3.6k

Warnings: Pining, friends to lovers, injuries, fluff, some brief unhealthy coping, self-deprecation.

a/n: If you would like notifications for my writing, you can turn on notifications for the blog @assassinslibrary where I reblog all my fics!

Part 1 Part 2

—————————————

Azriel couldn't sleep. All night, he stayed by your side, watching your back rise and fall with each breath. He counted them, making sure you were getting enough air, that you were alive and well. And when that didn’t quell the pounding of his heart and the trembling of his hands, he moved closer and listened for the air leaving your lungs and the heartbeat in your chest.

He tried to read to pass the time, picking up the book he had brought in from your bedroom. But the words refused to sink into his brain, and he found himself unable to focus on anything other than you.

Any time his eyes wavered from your form, anxiety pooled in his chest. His eyelids had even become heavy with sleep, but he forced them open again, his shadows swirling around him in irritation.

He realized while sitting in silence that this was the first time you had been in his bedroom for more than a few minutes. He had known you for centuries, since he had been a child, yet he kept his room very private. You would enter occasionally when dropping something off to him, calling him down for dinner, needing to tell him something, or asking him to accompany you somewhere. But spending a longer amount of time together? Normally that occurred outside of either of your bedrooms.

Now, as you laid in his bed, your hair fanned out on the pillow, Azriel couldn’t help but feel like you were meant to be there. You occupied this space like it was your own, despite the aesthetic contrasting so deeply with your vibrant personality. It made something warm pool in his chest, a feeling that reminded him of coming home after a mission or falling asleep after a long day. A feeling he had pushed down until the past few days. One he had tried to ignore out of fear.

A soft groan pulled him out of his thoughts, and he immediately sat up straighter, his heart faltering.

You started to roll over to face away from the wall, your body moving toward him instead. But Azriel jumped to his feet, laying his hands gently on your arm to keep you from turning onto your back.

“Don’t move too much.”

His voice came out as a whisper, as if the volume could pierce you and cause you more pain.

“Azriel?”

“It’s me,” he clarified, scarred fingers stroking soft circles on your bicep. “I’m here.”

You swallowed, and he could feel your body start to tremble beneath his touch. Adrenaline shakes, he surmised -- your body still recovering from the pain and trauma it suddenly endured.

“You don’t have to say anything. You’re in my room, you’re safe. You’ve just been resting.”

Blinking as if trying to orient yourself, you tried to turn again. His strong hands kept you in place.

“Could you-“ you coughed lightly. “Could you help me turn? I want to see you.”

One of his hands moved beneath your knees and the other cradled your back, just beneath your wounds. He lifted you from the bed slightly, moving your body toward him before releasing your legs and encouraging you to turn on your right side to face him, keeping pressure off your back.

When he finally released his hands, his hazel eyes stared into your own.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hey,” he spoke softly in return. His fingers gently moved your hair behind your ear.

Your eyes traced his face in silence before you finally moved your gaze away from him, noting where you were.

“Your bed is cozy.”

Azriel had to control his facial expression so as not to reveal his confusion and concern. That was the first thing you thought upon waking?

He gave you a soft smile instead. “Can I get you anything?”

You shook your head, burying yourself further into the blankets. “No, I’m okay.”

There was no way.

But you didn't elaborate and seemed content enough to stay laying there in silence, no acknowledgement of the life-altering event that had occurred to you.

Azriel didn’t like this at all. He had expected you to wake up in pain, whimpering, asking for him or Cassian or Rhys. For you to have been in a panic over your wings, sobbing and mourning them. He had been prepared to comfort you and hold you and explain how you were safe and that those males had been torn to pieces for hurting you.

But you were acting like nothing had even happened.

It was unnerving, and the shadowsinger for once had no read on the situation.

He eyed you carefully. “I’m going to have to change your bandages in a bit.”

You stiffened, your body tensing at his words before relaxing, your eyes feigning nonchalance.

“Later,” you challenged, closing your eyes again. “Is everyone coming for dinner?”

Azriel couldn’t mask his uncertainty over the situation, his brows furrowed and fingers twitching at his sides. “I’m not sure. Are you hungry?”

“You know I’d never turn down something sweet. Do we have any of those chocolate croissants from our cafe?”

“I’ll check. If not, I’ll have Rhys bring you some.”

You smiled, and he stood from where he was sitting by your form, looking at you one last time before crossing the threshold into the hallway so he can check for something to appease your unexpected sweet tooth.

Your entire behavior was unexpected. You wanted to eat. You were smiling. Not at all hinting at the trauma you had been through.

Azriel’s job was to inflict torture onto those in the dungeons (among other tasks). He knew the trauma it caused — the pain, the nightmares, the way it would permanently break some fae. He wasn’t sure if what had happened had not caught up to you yet, if you were in shock still, or if you were pretending to be okay, unwilling to show weakness in front of him.

Both possibilities made something twist in his stomach.

He forced his feet to move away from where you curled up in bed, shutting the door softly behind him and making his way to the kitchen. It was empty still, save for the bundles of daisies Rhys had dropped off at Azriel’s request. The high lord hadn’t questioned the order for the flowers, only leaving a note with them that said they all love you.

The two large bouquets looked silly now to the shadowsinger. Of course, he was hoping they would make you happy based on your past joy from flowers, but with everything that happened? They seemed so small in comparison.

He shook the thoughts from his head, instead looking around the counters and cabinets for any sign of your favorite treats. When he found none, he wrote a letter to Rhys seeing if he could deliver some of those chocolate croissants per your request. Once the high lord knew you were awake, he would probably do just about anything you asked.

Azriel sighed in defeat, bringing one of the bouqets back to the room with him so he wasn’t empty-handed.

He paused outside of the door, trying to settle his nerves. His shadows only swirled around him in agitation, and he tried to soothe them back to his sides. Only when he went to shush them, though, did he realize why they were unsettled.

A quiet whimper sounded from the other side of the door, followed by a sniffle and a small choked sob.

Azriel immediately opened the door, not hesitating to knock or make sure you were decent. His eyes scanned the room hurriedly, noting the tossed blankets on his bed and the light spilling from the bathroom.

He walked into the entryway, body instinctually turning toward your presence, guiding him toward the cracked door on the left. You shouldn’t be out of bed without assistance, and he definitely didn’t want you to be in there crying alone. He quickly placed the flowers on the desk next to the door before he peered into the open doorway, eyes immediately drawn to your red rimmed ones. You weren’t looking at him, though. Your eyes were turned over your bare shoulder, looking at the reflection of your back in the mirror.

Your back. Azriel's stomach dropped at the sight.

He hadn’t seen it all cleaned up without the bandages yet. It was still somehow just as gruesome as when it was splayed open and bloody on that table.

The wounds were large. Crescent-shaped and still healing. They were deep, gouged into the skin, and anyone else would look at them and call them ugly, an eye-sore, a blemish marking what would have been beautiful skin. Not Azriel, though. Never Azriel. Not when he still ran his own fingers along his scarred palms when nervous.

He slowly inched the door open further, the movement catching your eye and causing you to quickly turn your back to him, your arms crossing to cover your bare chest.

It was silent, your startled eyes searching his own for some sort of reaction. Did you expect him to be disgusted by your? By your scars?

In a way, he was. He didn't think you were disgusting in any way, but the act that was committed against you, the pain you had gone through in those moments, Cassian's memories still flashing in his mind -- that was what disgusted him.

You swallowed, and Azriel was moving before you could say something. He walked around you in a way that was cautious but attempting to be casual as to not put you on edge. He didn't face your back right away, especially as he felt you stiffen as he passed your side, and instead reached toward the counter where one of Madja's creams sat.

Unscrewing the lid, he finally made his presence known close behind you, pausing to let you breathe through your nerves before gently moving the hair that had fallen back over your shoulder. You shivered at the movement, but you didn't flee. You didn't tell him no.

So he gently dipped his fingers into the medicine, bringing it carefully up to the first of your wounds, still red and angry and glaring at him as if he were an enemy. He so very gently covered one edge with the white substance. You flinched at the feeling but still said nothing, so he continued, holding his breath and waiting for you to either lash out or break down.

Neither came though.

You stood still as can be, letting him apply the cream and dress your wounds, even taking the wrap from him and around your front to help hold the gauze in place. When he finally finished, he pulled your hair back from where it laid over your shoulder, letting it flow beautifully down your back, no longer suffocating the space by your neck. Then he walked back around to your front, meeting your gaze immediately and refusing to let it go.

Azriel tried to read what you were thinking, what you were feeling. But you only blinked away the remaining tears as if you were breaking out of a stupor.

You stood up taller, putting a faux smile on your face. "No chocolate croissants? I'm disappointed, Shadowsinger. You know Cassian wouldn't have returned without them."

A sharp pain twisted in his chest at your deflection, at your so obvious false display of contentment.

"Daisy-" he started, voice low and quiet.

"Why don't we go pick some up? You can use your shadows to get us to the gate right?"

"Daisy-"

You made your way toward the door, stumbling and moving slowly with your body's new imbalance and soreness. "Then you can go see everyone else. You shouldn't have to babysit-"

"Daisy."

You halted at his tone. The strong, demanding voice filled with such concern and care.

"You don't have to do this," he said.

He couldn't see your face, but he could almost picture your haunted look as you took a moment to collect yourself, your voice shaking when you finally spoke.

"Do what?"

"Pretend." He sighed. "You don't have to pretend with me."

Taking a deep breath, you shrugged. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I just want you to feel what you need to feel. You have been through a lot, and it's not good for you to just pretend like it didn't happen."

He walked closer to you, approaching you from behind, but you whirled around before he could get too close, gripping the doorway to stop yourself from stumbling.

"Of course I can't pretend like nothing happened. My wings are gone, Azriel. They are gone. My back feels like its been shredded -- like someone took me down to the butcher in Velaris to play with. And every day I will see those scars, feel those scars. I will watch as Rhys, Cassian, and you all fly, and I will forever be grounded. I will never again feel the wind in my hair or leap from the balcony. My body is changed; half of who I am has been taken from me, so I'm sorry if I don't know who I'm supposed to be after that."

By the end of your outburst, you were breathing heavy, choking on sobs that threatened to come up. Azriel watched as you swayed, your still healing and exhausted body needing rest, and he stepped closer.

"You aren't supposed to be anyone," he started, tears filling his own eyes. "You will always be Daisy, no one can take that away."

When he reached where you were standing, you shook your head, backing up into the bedroom as tears began to fall down your cheeks.

"You don't understand-"

"You're right. I could never understand. But I still want to help. Let me help, please."

"You can't help me. You can't go back in time or reattach my wings. I’m no longer me, I’m ruined.”

Azriel lunged forward at your words, propelled by something deep in his chest to correct you, to defend the sweet girl in front of him. His eyes were wild with hurt as he grasped your face between his palms, guiding your teary eyes to his own.

“Don’t you dare say that. You are the same girl who walked out of this house days ago. You are strong and brave and selfless, and everything you have lost is proof of that. You are not ruined, you are everything.”

You only looked at him, lip quivering as you tried to listen to him and hold back your sobs.

You shook your head slightly. “I’ll never be able to fly with you again.”

“I’ll take you.” Azriel vowed, voice deep and resolute. “I will carry you wherever you’d like.”

“I can’t even walk balanced-”

“My shadows will help support you while you recover. I will help support you.”

You looked away from him, tears filling your eyes once again. The words that came next were small, insecure. "No one will want me like this."

It took Azriel a few seconds to realize what you meant, because he could never dream of not wanting you. They all had trauma and nightmares, but you were referencing your scars, your forever-marked body. Madja had been able to close the wounds, but the worst ones had scarred. The lashings that had become infected in those dungeons had scarred. Only days ago you had been scar free save for a few. Not, you had hills and valleys of rough textured skin on your back, abdomen, thighs...

And you were the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Every scar a testament to your love and devotion to your family, a testament to your strength. He wanted more than just you, he wanted to worship you. He wanted to lay you down and cater to your every need, to massage and kiss every inch of your healing body, to show you just how beautiful he found you.

He swallowed, passion and an overwhelming amount of love filling his chest. It nearly ached. He directed you to look at him again. Nearly commanded it with his grip on you.

"I want you. In every form, in every life, in every universe. You are everything."

His words were strong, confident, and warm. He was pleading with you to believe him, to see and hear the truth that was right there.

You looked at him, studied him. Azriel knew your teary eyes were watching closely for a crack in his resolute stance. You would find none, though.

Eventually you sniffed, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as you asked in a sweet but broken voice, "What if your mate had these faults?"

Azriel didn't even have time to be shocked at the question, because he was immediately retaliating against your self-deprecation. "They are not faults. They are a part of you, of your story, and of your selflessness. They encompass so much of your beautiful heart in them, they could never be a fault."

The insinuation made him angry, but he tried to tamp down those feelings. You needed reassurance, not a reprimand.

You didn't even flinch at his response. Instead, you held his gaze and tried to cover the meekness making its way into your voice by standing up straighter. Azriel held you firm, steadying your balance with his shadows and his own feet against yours.

"And you'd still be saying this? If it was your mate?"

He was surprised the question didn't have that much of an effect on him. Anyone else bringing up mates normally had him tensing, snapping, getting defensive and changing the subject. From you though, It was comforting. Natural.

"Especially if it was my mate. But they would be able to feel all of this from me too. I would make sure they always knew they were wanted. I'd tell them everyday how beautiful they are, I'd get them sweet foods to make them feel better, I'd surprise them with flowers..."

As if the words summoned your eyes to them, he saw you see the giant bouquet of daisies sitting on his desk by the door. Your eyes widened slightly, your brows furrowing and chest rising a bit more rapidly. Azriel tightened his grip on you to steady you further.

He tilted his head to bring your gaze back to his own. "You are wanted, Daisy. I loved you before this, and I love you now. I will continue to love you always. Because you are you."

His words cracked something within you, because the next thing he knew, he was catching your weight against him. Your cheek pressed against his chest and your arms wrapped around his back, and then you were letting out such a heart-wrenching sob that Azriel immediately held you as tight as he could. He wished he could take all of the pain away, all of the haunting memories and nightmares. Any threats or fears, he vowed to fight them for you. Do anything until a smile was back on your pretty face.

"I want you too. I love you too," you mumbled into his chest.

It was only a few minutes before your sniffs subsided, and you pulled back with red splotchy cheeks and swollen eyes, skin wet with tears. Azriel cleared the hair from your face, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"You're my mate."

The words were so quiet, Azriel almost missed them.

But he couldn't. How could he? Mate, you had said. Him.

He was shocked enough at the acknowledgement of a physical bond between the two of you that he probably looked absurd, but he wasn't that shocked at the Cauldron deeming you two well-suited. After all, he had cared for you as more than a friend for months now, even if he had tried not to acknowledge it in fear of rejection.

He breathed, allowing his love for you to fill his veins, fill his very heart and soul. And then he met your sparkling eyes, still slightly watery from minutes prior.

And he felt it.

Deep within his chest, it's presence slowly becoming more prominent, was a golden thread. A tether that thrummed inside of him and brought him to you. A tug nearly sent him reeling.

"Your mate," was all he said.

"Yes," you whispered, still a little sniffly. "And I'm yours."

He let out a wet, happy chuckle, tears beginning to coat his own cheeks.

"You're mine," he repeated.

He made sure you were stable before grasping your face in his hands once again, bringing his lips to your cheek, then your forehead, then your other cheek, then your nose, and then your lips. He peppered them all over your face and arms, over the lacerations. He let the warmth in his chest take over and sing a song he had never known. The song escaped his lips in the form of kisses, in the form of I love you, my beautiful Daisy, and I'm so glad you're safe.

Only once he had regained control of his actions, he let his forehead rest on your own.

"You're mine," he said once again. "My everything."

And he knew you felt it.

[brabblesblog]

I hope you die screaming.

One-shot, angst/comfort, astarion/f!tav

After you refuse to help Astarion ascend, he leaves you with a venomous goodbye. Unfortunately the vampire has to come back to get his things.

The idea was to mix up the warding bond rings, Astarion’s final words if you refuse to help him, and Tav suffering and dying (not permanently!) in his absence.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

It had been a miserable few days of being alone in Baldur’s Gate, without most of his possessions, but Astarion was loathe to go back to the Elfsong. For one, he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d be there to do. To grab his things and go? A possibility, but not what he would rather do. To get on his knees and ask you to take him back? What he really wanted to do, but the chance of you forgiving him was slim, and he couldn’t face that rejection. So he stayed near the tavern, torn between showing himself and walking away yet again, when the ring on his finger pulsed with a strange magic and the ward protecting him dissipated from his body.

He had known you were still protecting him through the paired rings even as he stormed out of Cazador’s palace. The soft, pleasant feeling of the ward had not disappeared at all, and it had proven quite useful once or twice when he inadvertently offended someone enough for them to attempt to stab him. He didn’t get a lot of injuries - only minor cuts and scrapes - so as much as he felt guilty he figured you would be more than capable of handling it. In any case, should you want, you could just take off the rings, he reasoned.

So when the ward fell away right now, he huffed a bit and took the ring off. You must’ve finally remembered he had the other one, and there was no longer any point protecting him, after everything.

After what he said.

He entered the tavern and sat in a corner, waiting for your group to come back. He’d decided to come get his things. Without the ward’s protection, he would need his potions and armor to survive solo.

Soon enough, the door burst open and Gale came stumbling in. The gore and blood on his robes was normal enough, but his expression wasn’t. The man looked ashen and pale, and he immediately ran to the stairs. “Shadowheart! Come here. Now!”

Before the vampire could even put down the goblet he was holding, Halsin came in, something bundled in his arms. The air that wafted through hit Astarion, and he almost choked on it: blood. Your blood. A lot of it. He watched with wide eyes as Halsin carried the bloody bundle in his arms. It was a body, that much was obvious, but they had wrapped it in blankets. The fabric was stained everywhere, but it pooled the most where the chest would be. Halsin dipped his head and gently placed a kiss on the head of the body, and as he did so the blanket covering the face fell away. Astarion’s heart, if he still had one, would have stopped as he saw the face underneath the blankets. Yours.

He immediately stood up, heading towards Halsin. The larger elf saw him and let him approach, his expression one of sorrow.

“Halsin? What- is she…” he closes the distance. Your eyes are closed, as if you were sleeping. He knows it, knows he can’t hear your heartbeat and can’t see you breathe, but he still reaches out to cup your cheek. Cold, as cold as his hands were. He chokes back a scream that threatens to bubble from his throat.

Halsin moves, slowly climbing the stairs. “Come, Astarion. I shall explain.” As he made his way to your bed, he talked. “She hasn’t been well since your departure, but that is to be expected. We had a fight with the Steel Watch. She was a little too slow, too tired, and they won.”

Astarion growls. “You should all have protected her! Did you all cower when-“

“No.” Halsin rounds on him, eyes glinting with what was almost like anger. “We all have our injuries. We all tried our best. We weren’t the ones who left her.”

He laid you down on your bed, grabbing a wet cloth to clean your wounds. Astarion gripped the elf’s wrist. “Why aren’t you using a scroll to revive her?!”

He sighed. “You might not remember, Astarion, but the scrolls were all in your bag when you left.”

Shit. He had forgotten. He quickly rummaged through it, finding one. He saw Shadowheart approach and asked her for some healing potions as well. While everyone was preparing, Halsin kept cleaning your body up. Astarion scowled and grabbed his own wet towel, gently trying to clean around the hole in your chest. He winced at the amount of blood he saw as he tried to peel off the bloody shirt, then paused as he realized it was his camp shirt. Biting back the urge to scream, he kept working.

Shadowheart came back with several bottles of the potion, and they got to work. Halsin used the scroll, and as he did the vampire began pouring the potions down your throat. It didn’t take long for him to hear your heart start to beat again, and he exhaled roughly as he poured more bottles, just to be sure. He watched the color flood back into your face as you healed, unable to stop some tears from falling.

A hand gripped his shoulder and he turned to see Gale. The wizard sighed. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he said dryly. “Seems like you got your wish,” he said bitterly, gesturing to you.

Astarion bared his fangs and got up, ready to tear him from limb to limb. Halsin barely had enough time to stand between the two men. “There is no point to fighting each other. What’s done is done. And she’s doing better now.”

Gale sighed. He nodded at Halsin, then at Astarion. “I suppose the druid is right. You’ll still have some explaining to do, but it can wait.” He leaves to see Shadowheart to tend to his own injuries. After a moment, so does Halsin, squeezing Astarion’s hand in solidarity as he left.

Astarion continues his ministrations, weeping openly now that no one was here. He leaned forward, kissing your forehead. When you were clean, he puts you in your nightclothes, then wraps you up in his blankets. It doesn’t escape his notice that you’ve moved into his bed, his things still there, as though you were waiting for his return. He sleeps there that night, wraps himself around you, the sound of your soft breathing something he sorely missed.

You wake up a few hours later. Your head pounds, but when you open your eyes, it is blessedly dark. The last thing you remember was a steel watch monstrosity’s blade coming straight through you. You take a breath, nuzzling the blankets. They still smell like him, and you worry that soon the smell will fade. Then there would be nothing left of the man you loved. Well, other than his clothes-

Wait. His clothes. You run a hand down your chest, wincing at the movement. You realize you’re in your own camp clothes. It must’ve been torn in the fight, ruined by the gore. A soft cry escapes your lips. It felt all too much like losing him again. You whimper, helpless. Every movement was pain, but the most painful thing even now was your heart.

You suddenly realize you’re not alone on the bed. An arm sweeps across, wrapping securely around your waist. Someone nuzzles you, shushing your cries. In the darkness you can barely see, but the scent and the temperature of said arm hits you.

“As-Astarion?”

He swallows nervously. “Darling. I… I’m here.” He can see your face in the dark, eyes wide and afraid, and then a glimmer of hope as you realize who he is.

“You came back,” you manage to croak out. Your hand finds his, and he squeezes it tightly.

“I did. I-“ the happiness in your face stuns him. You should hate him. He doesn’t deserve to be welcomed back with such open arms.

“I was in the Elfsong to gather my things.” Before you could get the wrong idea and get hurt, he pushes on. “But I think I knew even as I walked in I’d be here to beg you to let me stay.”

“There’s no need to even ask, love.” Your hand moves to his hand, feeling for the ring. It isn’t there, and you feel a small pang of sadness. “You took it off.”

“Only today,” he says. “The wards fell. I thought you got rid of it, but your ring is still on your finger. I guess it just stopped working when you-“ he swallows past the lump in his thoat. “You- you know.” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Noticing his distress, you move your other hand to cup his cheek. “I’m sorry you had to see this. I got clumsy. I was… I wasn’t at my best.” You look away, embarrassed to admit how much you missed him.

“Darling. No,” he turns your cheek to meet his gaze. “I left you. I broke your heart. All because I was too afraid to see the right path to take. And I wished… I said terrible things. I would take it back, all of it back. I regretted it as soon as I left the dungeons. But I didn’t think you’d let me back in. If I stayed, maybe you’d be alright. You’d be-“

His words are broken by soft lips that press against his. It was tender, and he couldn’t help but lean into it, kissing back carefully and gently. More tears fell from him, and you thumbed them away. Pulling back, you offer him a kind smile. “I forgave you as you left, love. I get it. It’s just that I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too.” With those words Astarion finally breaks down, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He didn’t deserve such tenderness, such love, after what he did. He vowed to do better with your heart, to give what you deserve as well. Not for any other reason than that he wanted to.

He meets your eyes, and he finally lets the words that had been sitting in his chest for ages out. “I love you. I have loved you for a while, darling, I just didn’t know how. I’m not good at this, obviously. I choose the wrong words, do the wrong things, and you still let me back in.”

You chuckle a bit, hands carding through his hair. “That’s because I love you too, idiot.”

You’ve told him that for some time now, accepting that he couldn’t say the same yet. But every time you say it his heart still soars. He captures your lips in yet another kiss.

“Forgive me?”

“Of course. You’ll have to put your ring back on, though. Maybe when I’m more healed, on second thought.”

You bite your lip, frowning.

“Oh. And I might have ruined your camp shirt. Could you fix it for me? Please?”

He puts on a show of pouting and sighing. “If I must. What would you do without me, hm?”

You roll your eyes and tug him close to you. All too quickly, you drift off, finally having a good night’s rest. He watches your face become peaceful, noting the huge bags under your eyes.

Astarion holds you through the night, vowing to never leave your side ever again.

[mockerycrow]

hello

I saw ur prompts post and wanted u to write the second one with 141 +konig while they're on a mission or accidentally hurting the reader during training (not any super serious injuries tho) would appreciate it 💖💖.

400 Follower Celebration

—“C’mere, let me see.”— With 141 + König

Summary: These are different situations where you get mildly to moderately injured and 141 + want to see.

[WARNINGS: descriptions of killing, mild gore, mild/moderate physical injury, fluff.]

-> John Price

“You need to work on your technique.” He huffs out, standing victorious on the training map. Price’s hands remain on his hips as you’re still crouched over on the mat, one hand holding you up while the other is covering your mouth and noise.

You don’t respond to him, instead you peel your hand from your face, glancing at it and then you cover whatever you’re covering right back up. You moved so fast Price didn’t catch onto what was in your hand, so his eyebrows furrow. His hands drop from his hips, approaching you. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” You say with a strained voice, muffled by your hand cupping your face. Price raises an eyebrow, not believing you. He crouches down, using one knee to balance himself. Price puts a hand on your back and the other grabs your wrist gently. “C’mere, let me see.”

You allow him to pull your hand away from your face and Price sputters when he sees the amount of blood in your hand. “Jesus bloody Christ!” He curses, letting go of your hand and grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes are watering from the pain and there’s blood dripping from your nose, smeared across your lips. John then stands up, murmuring, “Let me get you a towel and then get you to medical, yeah?”

-> Kyle Garrick

“Fuck!” You shout, your voice cracking. You grimace as pain blooms across your right arm, but you ignore and opt to shove the blade of your knife into this man’s throat. He begins to choke, wide eyed, his hands grabbing at yours. You yank the blade out of his neck and blood splatters over your face and clothing, and the man drops to the ground whilst holding his throat, red hot blood pouring through his fingers.

You pant and stare down at the man, adrenaline rushing through your veins. You barely acknowledge the deep gash in your arm besides a heartbeat residing in it’s place. Heavy footsteps come down the hall and into the corridor, Kyle shouting your name. “Hey, hey! Are you alright?” His voice is dripping worry, glancing at the man and then at you, his eyes widening when he sees all of the blood.

“Yeah, it’s.. it’s not mine.” You breathe out, ripping your eyes off of the bloody corpse in front of you. Your left hand skims over your right arm and—yep, there it is; you hiss in pain and cover the wound with your fingers. Your hand is trembling from the adrenaline, which combined with the noise, catches his attention.

“Are you hurt?” Kyle asks, his voice firm as he grabs your arm, his other hand grabbing your wrist. “C’mere, let me see.” Kyle moves your hand and grimaces for you, a small hiss coming from him. “Yep, definitely injured.” His thumb gently swipes at some of the blood coating your skin. “Let’s get you somewhere safe and get you some stitches.”

-> John MacTavish

You grunt as Soap’s arms are wrapped around your head with his legs locked around your waist and own legs, his forearm pressing against the front part of your throat. Your heart is pounding in your ears and you vaguely hear Soap teasingly shout, “Do you need to tap out?” You don’t respond as you struggle, trying your best to rip the man’s arms off of your head and throat. Your fingers grab at his flexing forearm, using all of your upper strength in an attempt to pry him off of yourself. “No shame in tappin’ out, bonnie..” His voice is low and cocky, tightening his hold around your help.

Being the stubborn person you are, you refuse. You attempt to gasp and you can feel your lungs heaving for air, your chest spasming. You close your eyes harshly as you don’t want to stare at the black dots swimming in your vision. In a last attempt to get him off, you buck your head forward—but your plan fails and you end up busting your lip open.

“Steamin’ Jesus-“ Soap’s tone is shocked as he immediately loosens his grip, giving you a second to gasp for air. You take this opportunity and use all of your weight, pushing Soap off of yourself. You ignore your bleeding lip and grab his arms, twisting them behind his back and you sit right on his legs, earning a grunt from him. “Hey- fuck, are ya bleedin’??” Soap grunts out, twisting his head to look at your face. His own lip curls up in concern, his eyes narrowing at you. You release your grip on him and crawl off of him, your fingers brushing against your lip. You wince, muttering, “Yeah.”

“C’mere, let me see.” Soap sits up and crawls over to you, cupping your cheek in one hand, the other balancing himself. “Ah, just busted it a bit. Guess that’s a lesson ta’not do that then, hm?”

-> Ghost

You’re cooking some breakfast for Ghost while he’s on vactional-leave, humming in the kitchen. One hand is grabbing the handle of the pan, the other holding tongs over the pan, flipping the crackling bacon. You get so caught up in your time playing softly from your phone a few feet away that you forget to be careful and the bacon pops at you, hot grade covering a small patch of your arm. You can’t help the loud yell that leaves your mouth followed by a loud “Fuck!”

You hear his heavy footsteps coming down the hallway in a quick fashion, grumbling out loudly, “What happened?” Despite his grumbles, you know he’s concerned, especially when you’re holding your arm, you blink and he’s across the room—you blink again and he’s next to you. “Bacon got me,” You whimper out quietly, the humming of the pain and heat radiating through your skin.

“C’mere, let me see.” Ghost’s voice is low and rumbles through the air, crackling like fire with how rough it is. His large gloved hand takes your arm into it and allows you to uncover the grease burn yourself. Ghost gently pulls towards himself, grabbing under your arms and lifting you onto the counter. He reaches over and turns the stove top off, moving the pan to a cool burner. “Hey- what about the food?” You say softly, watching as he goes through a small drawer and grabs a small hand towel. “That can wait. We have to treat this before it gets worse.”

-> König

You’re running an endurance and strength training course when you get hurt. You do fine on the pull ups, the rope swing, but when you reach the tire hops? Your ankle ends up catching on the edge of the tire, a yelp leaving you as your ankle twists in an awkward way, sending waves of pain radiating up your leg. Your arms end up catching your body before you fully face plant and you pause for a moment, your whole body tensing up as swift swears leave your lips.

You hear your name being called and heavy footsteps against gravel before a pair of large hands gently grab you. “I-I saw you fall, are you alright?” His voice is light with worry, and he moves downwards to softly dislocate your foot from the tire. You groan as soon as he touches your leg and you shake your head. “Fuck, that hurts—it’s my, my ankle..”

“C’mere, let me see.” He’s gentle when he gets your leg out of the fire and he quickly unties your boot. König helps you flip over to lay on your back with your leg in his lap. He slips off the boot with a hiss coming from you, making him quietly apologize as he removes your sock. Your ankle is swollen, but definitely not broken, nor dislocated. “It is a good idea to see the medics. I’ll carry you.”

[shotmrmiller]

09 Wife with a pathetic!Simon instead.

She appears and his tac knife is quickly at her throat, but once she shows him the dog tags around her neck, along with personal info like how he was an apprentice butcher before he signed up for the military, he puts the blade away.

She's too soft, too dainty. Even if she wanted to try something, he'd snap her neck in an instant.

Then she runs a thumb across the bare, puckered skin of his lower rib cage as she recounts some details of how he got the scar there but all of it falls on deaf ears.

Her touch on his old wound feels like she's scraping his nerves raw- and it has him rock hard in seconds.

Simon can't help but think about how she isn't disgusted by his marred flesh. How her eyes rove over him with an emotion he can't place, as do her hands.

He's so painfully erect that he feels like if he shifts, the sensation of the fabric of his sleeping bottoms rubbing against his sensitive head can make him come.

Simon feels lightheaded as his vision begins to spin— breaths coming in harsh pants.

She's underneath him still, eyes wide as she gazes up at him, and he can't remember the last time he had someone in his bed without paying for it.

He swallows thickly and moves to get off of her when she bends her leg, touching his groin— her knee pushing up into his tightened ball sack, and he feels something inside of him snap.

All he can hear is the deafening noise of his rapid heartbeat. He can't see anything and he's not sure if it's because the ecstasy coursing through his body has robbed him of his sight, or if he's squeezing his eyes shut.

Simon's body is trembling with the aftershocks of his climax. His lungs burn from the lack of oxygen, and his mind is fuzzy with pleasure. As he comes back down from his high, he slowly opens his eyes— only to see her.

With a stunned expression on her face, she stared up at him in disbelief, her mouth wide open. There's a clear liquid splattered over her rosy cheeks dripping down to the side of her face.

Simon pats his forehead, only to feel it a little warmer than normal, but completely dry.

Oh.

He uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth.

"Sorry."

[woewriting]

bloodlines

pairing: wednesday addams | vampire reader word count: 1595 warnings: mdni, +18 only! blood mention/drinking, reader's a vampire duh, no pronouns used, thigh riding, small master x pet dynamics at the end. a/n: first wdw in weeks... just a small thing for my vampire fellas.

masterlist

Your leg bounced up and down, the almost inaudible sound of the heel of your shoes hitting the wooden floor annoying the girl sitting next to you on the bed, the movements of your legs and the way you chewed on your bottom lip enough to get her annoyed.

Closing the book, Wednesday turned to you, eyes alternating between the irritating move and your features.

“Can you stop with that infuriating sound? It’s distracting me.”

“Uh?” You look at Wednesday, eyes darting from yours to your bouncing leg in a silent answer. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice it.”

“Now that you do, stop it.”

“I can’t control it.”

Wednesday took a deep breath, bringing her hand to rest on top of your knee, forcing you to stop. Somehow, your leg was still shaking under her touch and now, a heatwave spread inside your body at the sudden touch, a bright red color threatening to take over your vision, a sharp pain in your gums.

You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths and trying to take control over your instincts. But Addams being so close to you with her almost unnoticeable perfume and hand on your thigh, it was hard and any small thing coming from her was enough to get you to lose control.

“You’re starving, aren’t you?” All you could do was nod, not wanting her to see the sharp fangs that sunk on the inside of your mouth. Removing her hand from your leg, you felt a weight being placed on top of your body instead. “Open your eyes, let me take a look at them.”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“I wasn’t asking. Open them now and look at me.”

Despise the calming way she spoke, her words and demanding tone were enough to get you to do as you were told, unable to resist the smell she had; It was like a spell placed on you.

Wednesday brought her hands to your face, opening your lips to see the sharp fangs you were hiding, pressing the tip of a finger under one, a single drop of raven blood poking out of the small wound was enough to cover your lower lip with her movement.

“Wends…” You warned with a hoarse voice, controlling the impulse to lick the sweet blood off of your lip.

The dark, silky sheets under your hands ripping off around your nails, stopping you from digging the skin of her waist. Knowing Wednesday, she would definitely make you pay for a new set.

Ignoring the warning timbre in your voice, Wednesday opened her white blouse, dragging the fabric away from her shoulder area along with the strip of her bra.

“Take it.”

“No.”

“If you want to keep that snarky tongue of yours, I suggest you to stop fighting and just do as I am telling you to.”

The second you focused on the cold, pale skin, of her neck, everything around you turned red, melting as you caught the sound of her blood flowing through her body, the steady pace of her heartbeat, muffling every small sound that surrounded the both of you.

All you could hear, see and smell, came from the small girl sitting on your lap. And that was all that matters.

The red, warm, sweet blood that kept her alive. The blood of a Raven, Wednesday being the last one of her bloodline known to you.

Noticing the lack of motion coming from your frozen body, the Addams girl gently tugged you by the back of your head, bringing you closer to her.

“Take it.” She whispered; fingers lost in your hair. “It’s all yours.”

“All mine…” You replied, lost in your red reality, barely processing what left her lips, all you could hear, loud and clear, was the pumping of her jugular, the sweet blood rushing through her veins.

Leaning in, your nose brushed on the cold skin, taking a deep breath. The ghostly touch causing the other to close her eyes. You opened your mouth, enough for the tip of your tongue to touch her, a surprised sigh coming from Wednesday.

“I profoundly hate when you do that.”

“Are you sure? Because I can hear every beat of your heart.” You placed a kissed near her collarbones. “And the way your thighs are pressing against mine.” Another kiss, a little bit higher.

“Stop talking. It’s an order.”

You laughed against her, hands slowly moving from the silky sheets to her thighs. “You’re in no place to boss me around, Addams.”

“I thought you enjoyed being my little pet.”

“I enjoy more when you’re my prey.”

Looking into your eyes, Wednesday could barely see the color of it, dark red mixed with golden strings covering most of your iris, pupils dilated in a black color. The veins under your eyes, disappearing and appearing as if it was following the beat of a music, little did she know it was synchronized with her own heartbeat.

It always felt like that, to be under her spell, if felt paralyzing, something in the way Wednesday smelled and tasted like, so sweet it was like drinking honey.

For her, having your teeth sinking in her neck, poison spreading through your saliva turning the pain into pleasure in just a few seconds. She would never admit, but being your personal blood bag made the pain settle in between her thighs.

She needed you as much as you needed her.

Why else would she sit on your lap and keep you around? Allowing you to follow every single step of hers like a lost puppy, holding you on a tight leash, stopping you from biting others like a misbehaved puppy.

Gulping, she licked her lips, your eyes following every single movement of her body. She felt like an addicted waiting for the next jet of poison, it’s been days since the last time you fed on her.

“Did you drink from somebody else?” You shook your head. You tried to, actually, blood bags, human blood straight from the vein, animal blood that you captured with Eugene’s help; they all tasted like garbage. “Then why are you refusing to do as I tell you to?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you.”

A small grin tugged on her lips. “I want you to hurt me.”

A gush of adrenaline ran in the veins under your eyes the second you heard her whisper, eyes filled with a specific glow that you almost never see in Wednesday: excitement.

The moment your fangs dug in the cold skin, a low moan escaped between Wednesday’s parted lips, the fingers in your hair pulling you impossible closer. The hot, thick red liquid filled your mouth, the iron taste almost unnoticeable, being replaced by a sweet taste that only she had.

Throwing her head back in an attempt to give you more access to her neck, she didn’t even notice that small rhythm her hips were following against your legs, rubbing herself on you. Her scent, stronger than ever, filling every centimeter of your lungs like smoke.

Moving your hands to her hips, you bruised the covered skin as you helped her steady movements. Opening her lips to take a deep breath soon became a breathless moan, your name escaping her parted lips as you drank more and more from her, the poison spreading through her veins as you lick the open wound, capturing what escaped from your hungry mouth before biting her again.

Wednesday was weak in your arms, the hot feeling in the pit of her stomach getting hotter and hotter as she rounded her hips on your leg, a wet stain on the fabric of your jeans as she came, eyes rolling to the back of her head and body falling back, being held by your hands.

Switching positions, you laid the small girl on her bed, dark silky sheets embracing her body as you laid on top of her to lick around her neck, not wasting a single drop of the precious blood that you couldn’t go without.

Kissing your way up to her face, Addams still had her eyes closed, a fainted reddish color spread on her cheeks as she came down from her high. When she opened her eyes, she was met with your golden ones, shining like a star in the night sky. She caressed your face, thumb swiping your lips to collect the thick liquid that covered them before gently sucking on them, maintaining the eye contact; a satisfied hum in her throat.

“Kiss me. I want to taste my blood on your tongue.”

As she commanded, you connected your lips together in a kiss that was soft at first, turning to bruising and desperate as her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you in, lips wrapping around your tongue to get more of it before she breaks the kiss, hands moving to your shoulders.

“What are you doing?” You asked, confused, as she tried to push you down, but you, being stronger than her, didn’t move an inch.

“I need your tongue somewhere else, and I need it now, so be a good pet and collaborate with me.”

Wednesday was nearly screaming inside, her weak body in desperate need of you, one of the collateral damages from your poison. And the way you smelled, the way your hands touch her body, it was a lot more than just the venom that rushed in her veins, there was something else in the brownish glow that stared at you. You smiled.

“As you wish, master.”

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 54 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley prepares to leave for Japan, but not before he does everything he can to help you get ready for his departure. During the appointment where you both get to meet baby number two, he realizes just how overwhelmed you've been feeling, but it's too late to turn back now.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, anal sex, angst, fluff, pregnancy topics, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Bradley had you bent over the side of the bed with your legs spread wide and your pussy full of his cock. His big hands were covering your smaller ones as you grasped at the bedding, and your crown was lopsided on your head. He was rough, but he'd never hurt you. And he was needy, but he'd never ask for what you didn't want to share with him. When you whispered his name as he thrusted, he kissed your pretty cheek.

"Tell me what you want, Princess. Tell me what I'm allowed to have."

The harsh edges of your diamond ring were pressing into his palm as you whispered, "I wore my plug for a reason, Daddy."

His hips stuttered in their perfect rhythm as he tried to comprehend the flawless woman beneath him. "I'll be sweet and gentle," he promised, knowing he was going to have to switch gears even as he slammed himself deep into your pussy again. 

"I know you will."

Your words reminded him of everything he promised you earlier, and he wanted to be able to guarantee that he'd always leave you satisfied. So he withdrew himself and knelt behind you, tasting your pussy and also kissing along the base of your plug until you were practically sobbing. But he needed this time with his face buried in your sweetness to calm down enough to take what you were offering. 

He licked you from your clit through your dripping slit and didn't stop until his tongue wound a path around the silicone. And then he did it again. After a third time, his heartbeat was closer to normal as he whispered, "You make me absolutely fucking wild for you."

"Daddy," you whined as he stood once more. He let his cock rest against your ass as he reached for the bottle of lube, and he had to bite back his moan of delight as he removed your purple plug and replaced it with himself. 

He had no idea how long he would be gone. The training and testing he'd signed on for would apparently last as long as his commanding officers wanted it to. They would keep him going until they had the data they wanted. He wasn't sure how many weeks of his life at home he would miss out on. Appointments and Noah's artwork and you growing the baby. He'd miss these things, but he trusted you with all of it. And he wanted to remind you how in love he was with all of it before he left. 

You gasped and squeezed around him as he helped you plant your knees on the bed, and then he helped you ease your body up until your back was resting against his chest. "Just let me make you feel good," he crooned, kissing the side of your neck as ran his hands along your hips. "Just let me love you."

Slowly, you rocked with him as his fingers met your clit. He worked you up with each little swirl of his fingertips along your most sensitive part. "Look at me," he whispered, and you turned your head to the left where his lips met yours. "I love you."

You could only whimper softly as he stroked you along, pushing you closer and closer. He made sure you came with one of his hands clapped over your mouth and his other fingers pumping in and out of your pussy. And only then did he let himself succumb to your tight body and the feeling of being held inside you so intimately. 

"Daddy," you whined, holding his hand as he carefully eased himself free. And then you got on all fours and let him watch the mess he made of your tightest hole. 

"That's fucking gorgeous," he whispered as his cum dripped out of you and down along your pussy before he scooped you up in his arms. "Let's go get cleaned up, Princess. We have some things to talk about."

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

It wasn't even that late yet, but you were completely sated and curled up with your head on Bradley's chest. You were exhausted pretty much all the time now, but you chalked that up to being a pregnancy symptom. Right now you were also full of delicious feelings that had you wanting to stay up as late as you could and listen to Bradley's voice saying the sweetest things. 

"I love you, and I'd be okay with picking a wedding date right now if I knew when I'd be back from Japan."

You looked up at him. "You want to get married as soon as you're home again?"

He licked his lips and kind of laughed. "Ideally. What were you thinking, Princess?"

"We don't even know when the baby is due. We won't know that until Monday."

He kissed your forehead and muttered, "Based on when you stopped taking birth control? Probably looking at a birthday in April, just like Noah."

"Oh," you whispered with a smile. "They could have shared birthday parties in the future."

Bradley squeezed your hand and sighed. "Everything you say keeps sounding better and better."

You laughed softly and told him, "I was actually thinking about Valentine's Day? For the wedding?"

When he didn't respond right away, you thought you had said something wrong. You looked up again, and he returned your gaze with pensive eyes. "If I'm not back well before February, then I made a terrible fucking mistake here. Noah asked me about a Halloween costume, and I'm hoping I'm back in time for that."

You kissed his chest and said, "I have an idea."

"Tell me. Please."

"What if," you started, running your fingers along his abs. "What if we just get married here?"

"Here?"

"Yeah," you replied with a nod. "In the backyard."

He hooked his fingers under your chin and tilted your face up to look at him again. "You don't want something fancier? Something fit for the Princess that you are?"

You smiled and stretched until you were kissing him. "I kind of like to think of this as my castle, so the backyard would be well within my kingdom." Bradley laughed as you kissed him, and then you added, "And that way we wouldn't have to answer to anyone else about a wedding date. We could do what we want, when we want."

He hummed and said, "You are making some compelling points."

You had to bite your lip to stifle your laughter before you said, "I know. You're forgetting that my brain is young and fresh compared to yours."

A split second later, you ended up underneath him as he kissed you without actually putting his weight on top of you. "You might be distressingly young, but you're also a brat," he told you as he laughed some more. "But you're also the only one I trust as much as I trust myself. And you'll be just fine while I'm away. No matter how long that ends up being."

"I know," you whispered. "Noah and I will be okay."

He moved down your body and kissed your belly and said, "Don't forget about this little one," he whispered. "We'll meet you on Monday, and you'll be okay, too."

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

Sunday should have been a fun family day, but Bradley's looming departure on Tuesday morning definitely put a damper on things. When he told Noah he would be gone again for a few weeks just like he was earlier in the summer, he had to watch his son cry. And then you started crying. And then Bradley really regretted his decision even more. 

He knew you could tell later that night that he was still on the verge of tears. You curled up on his lap on the couch and whispered, "You're Noah's Daddy. You could have told him you were going away for a day, and he would have probably cried. Any length of time without you around is going to feel impossible for him."

"But this shit was optional, Princess."

"It's a once in a lifetime opportunity," you whispered, stroking your hand along his abs, inadvertently showing off your ring. 

"It's not just Noah. It's you and the baby, too."

"Don't forget Skittles. She's your best friend." You reached for his hand and kissed his fingers. "You told me you trust me. And I told you we'll be fine."

"I do trust you," he was quick to supply as you yawned. "Let me take you to bed."

He scooped you up and cradled you against his chest. "I'm so tired, I'll probably just sleep the whole time you're gone. As soon as Noah is in bed each night, I'll be snuggled up, too."

You fell asleep almost instantly as he whispered, "This is what I'll really miss."

Bradley was happy the appointment time with your doctor was before Noah needed to be picked up from preschool on Monday, because he could tell you were overwhelmed. He managed to get out of work early enough that he was waiting for you by your car when you walked out of Dr. Kelly's office.

"Bradley," you gasped, running down the walkway toward him where he was leaning against the driver's side door. You threw your arms around his neck and clung to him just like you did in bed this morning, and he truly felt like shit as he kissed you. He had about fourteen more hours until his flight left for Tokyo, and he could physically tell how much you were going to miss him. 

"Hey, Baby," he whispered, letting you smother him in kisses as he held your body to his. "Yeah... we're getting married as soon as I get home."

You laughed, but you whispered, "I don't even want to think about you leaving yet, okay? Let's go get this appointment over with."

"Over with?" he asked. "I don't know about you, but I'm excited."

You pushed him toward the other side of your car before climbing in and starting the engine. "It's not that I'm not excited. I'm just nervous. And I'm wondering how many appointments you'll end up missing. And like holy shit, Daddy, sometimes I forget how young I am since I'm getting married to such an old man, you know?"

Bradley groaned as you reached for his hand at a red light. "You know that's part of the reason why I'm doing this, right? I'll age out of flying within the next ten years, and then it's retirement or taking a position on base somewhere."

"Retirement?" you asked in surprise. 

He shrugged and ran his thumb along your knuckles. "Could be a stay at home dad, maybe," he muttered. 

"You'll be my trophy husband!" you practically shrieked. "Someday I'll be the breadwinner!"

"Alright, keep your eyes on the road," he said, nodding at the stoplight that just turned green. "I guess you like that idea more than I thought you would."

"Hey, if you want to retire in ten years, then this trip to Japan is even more important than I originally thought."

"Yeah," he muttered. "But I would have never considered something like this before I met you."

"Not with Meredith?" you asked as you turned into a different medical complex. 

"No, Princess," he replied. Then he remained quiet until you were both out of the car and on the way inside. He stopped you just outside the door with his hands on your hips, and you looked up at him with a little smirk. "The best thing she ever did was give me Noah. But you've given me a partner and mom for my kids. Let's go meet baby number two."

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

You were so overwhelmed, you were shaking. Bradley was holding your hand, and you were squeezing him back. You had no idea you'd have to have something inserted inside you for the ultrasound. When you watched Dr. Kelly write ultrasound prescriptions at work, they were always external. And you had no idea what to say when you were questioned about your last period. You'd pretty much stopped keeping track since you started sleeping with Bradley, but you hadn't paid any attention to your cycle at all after he flushed your pills.

When you kind of shrugged and met his soft eyes, he told the doctor, "Uh, well we stopped using protection in July." You were never this careless before you got so comfortable with Bradley, but you also never felt so loved and taken care of before. "It's okay, Princess," he whispered with a little smile as the doctor turned on the video monitor, and then you saw it.

"Is that the baby?" you blurted out, and now Bradley was the one squeezing your hand.

"That's the baby," the doctor replied. "Let's zoom in."

"Baby number two," Bradley told you, leaning closer to kiss your cheek. "And look at that nice, steady heartbeat."

You were mesmerized by the way it looked. All of your nursing textbooks had not prepared you for the visual example of the tiny thing inside you that would grow into a baby. "This is incredible," you whispered. "Is it... healthy?"

"Looks great," the doctor replied. "And I would estimate your due date is right around April twenty-fifth."

"Told you," Bradley said with a smile. "April. Just like Noah."

You tried not to smile too much as you thought about the kids having shared birthday parties in the backyard with all of their friends running around. Bradley kissed your fingers, and you briefly heard him ask for a schedule of your appointments. He knew so much more about this than you did; you should have known he would be absorbed by the details. He'd been through all of it before with Noah. Well as much as Meredith let him. You looked at his handsome face and his broad shoulders in his uniform shirt. It was so easy to picture him carrying two kids around while Skittles jumped at his feet. His interactions with Noah made you so emotional, and now you'd get to experience all of that from day one. From before day one, actually. 

"Do you have any more questions?"

You blinked away your thoughts and watched Bradley collect the long printout of about five of the ultrasound snapshots. Your appointment was done. Everything was finished. "It's over?" you asked in surprise. 

"Yes," replied your doctor. "We'll see you back here in a month."

You stumbled along next to Bradley on your way back to your car as he held your hand. "Do you want me to drive?" he asked softly, leaning down to kiss your cheek. Wordlessly, you handed him your car key and went for the passenger side, taking the ultrasound images with you. As prepared as you thought you were, this made it real. Very real. And you were about to be alone with Noah and your thoughts and this tiny baby that was making you so tired. 

As Bradley headed back to pick up the Bronco, you asked, "Can you get Noah? He's going to want to spend as much time with you as he can, and I just want to go right home and get a shower."

"Of course," he replied. "And I'll pick up pizza and salad on my way home. I don't want either of us to have to be worrying about dinner or cleaning the kitchen. Not tonight."

His words were so considerate, and he always followed through with what he said, but that didn't stop your tears from breaking free once you were home and in the shower. You had too many thoughts swirling in your mind. Bradley was leaving. Noah was going to be solely your responsibility for an undetermined amount of time. You were going to be sleeping alone. Your exhaustion was taking over. Showers like this one would be rare for weeks, maybe even months. You wouldn't be allowed to have a break. 

Work. Noah. Sleep. Baby. Cry. 

You could hear Bradley's voice out in the kitchen, but you didn't want to get out of the shower. Your fingers were so pruney, you were having a hard time holding the soap, but you didn't get out for a while longer. The pizza was cold when you finally emerged in a pair of Bradley's gym shorts and one of his old shirts, and your eyes were red and irritated from crying. 

You kissed the top of Noah's head when he said, "Hi, Mommy." His new artwork that looked a bit like Bradley walking Skittles was already hanging on the refrigerator. 

"Come here," Bradley coaxed, still dressed in his uniform while he sat next to Noah who was eating some of the pizza. But he hadn't touched his own slice yet. 

"You didn't have to wait for me," you whispered as you settled down onto his lap. 

Your stomach growled as he said, "Another minute in that shower, and I was coming to fish you out. You need to eat. Do you want me to heat it up for you?"

"No," you mumbled, picking up his slice and devouring it. He kissed your neck and got your salad ready as you reached for a second piece of pizza. "More dressing, please," you whispered, and he smiled as he dumped it onto the lettuce. You ate until you felt completely stuffed, still trying to process everything, and then you leaned back against Bradley's chest. "I'm sorry," you whispered. "I ate off of your plate and everything."

"I wanted you to," he replied, his chest a deep rumble against your body. He drew lazy circles on your thigh with his thumb as he bit into his own slice of pizza. "I'm gonna miss you."

Then your tears started again, and you knew they weren't going to quit. Bradley did everything that evening. He walked Skittles and gave Noah a bath. He made you a cup of tea and tucked you in bed. He propped one of the ultrasound photos on your nightstand with a little smile, and then he got in bed with you. 

Your plans for the night included at least a round or two of goodbye sex, but all you could do was curl up on him with your face pressed to his shoulder, inhaling his scent. You promised him you could handle things without him, but now it all felt hopeless.

"Did you pack some of your sexy polaroids?" you asked him with a little sniff. 

He kissed your ear and whispered, "I packed two of the polaroids, plus I have all the photos and videos that you helped me save to my phone. And I have about a million cute photos of you and Noah. And now I have ultrasounds, too."

"Okay," you mumbled, fighting to get yourself under control enough to try to turn him on. You let your hand drift down his bare chest to his abs and the top of his sweatpants, but he just took your hand in his and guided it back up to his lips. After he pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist, you tried again, but you were deterred again. "I'm trying to give you a boner, Daddy."

He laughed softly. "I know. But I'd rather just hold you all night if that's okay with you."

All night was a bit of an overstatement. You and Noah would be dropping him off at the airport at five o'clock for his flight. Really, you only had a few more hours with him at home. "Yeah. That's okay with me."

He kissed your shoulder and spoke softly as you clung to him. "I'll call you every opportunity I have. If you need help with anything, you reach out to Nat or Penny and Mav, okay? And if you need to talk to someone about the baby, you can tell Nat. She doesn't know yet, but I trust her with you."

"Okay," you murmured against his neck. You loved the way he talked about you and the way he touched and kissed you. Nothing compared to it, and nothing ever would. "I'm going to miss you. I feel like I can't stop crying."

He remained quiet for a few minutes, just holding you and letting you listen to the steady beating of his heart. "Princess... I don't even know how to... just, thank you for letting me do this. Thank you for understanding why I even wanted to do this."

"Just come home soon."

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

Before dawn, Bradley found himself outside the San Diego International Airport on his knees on the sidewalk underneath the fluorescent lights. Noah was yawning continuously, and he was still wearing his dinosaur pajamas. He had his arms around Bradley's neck, half falling back to sleep right there as Bradley had his other arm wrapped around the backs of your thighs and his head resting against your belly. 

"We'll miss you, Daddy." The sound of your broken sob as your fingernails dragged softly through his hair were enough to keep him on his knees a minute longer. He ran his nose and lips along the soft fabric of his tee shirt that you were still wearing, kissing where he knew the baby was. 

"I love you," he murmured. Then he buried his face in Noah's soft curls and said, "I love you, Bub. I'll be home before you know it. Be good for Mommy?"

"I will," he said with a yawn, kissing Bradley's cheek. "Love you."

And then he stood and pressed his lips to the tears running down your cheeks. "How will we know when you get there?" you asked softly. "Will they let you call us right away? Or will we have to wait?"

"I'll call you as soon as I land," he promised. "And I'll keep calling you whenever I have access to my phone."

"Okay," you gasped, your lips colliding with his. "Okay," you whispered against his lips. "I love you."

With an armful of you and an armful of Noah, he kissed you one last time. "I love you more than life itself, Princess. I'll be home soon."

Then he transferred his son to your arms, picked up his bag and headed inside, turning around to wave every few steps. You were crying, and Noah was hugging you now, and more than anything, Bradley wanted to turn around and take everyone home. But he forced himself toward the terminal. 

The flight was long and lonely, and sleep eluded him. Arriving in Tokyo already exhausted was not his best move when he had to meet some admirals and members of the Japanese military, but there was nothing he could do about it now. 

Without checking the math to see what time it was back home, Bradley pulled out his phone and called you as he walked to get his bag. You answered on the third ring, your voice a little muffled as you said, "Bradley."

"Hey, Baby," he replied, a smile finding his lips for the first time in hours. "I'm in Japan. And I'm missing you already."

He could hear your smile as you softly said, "Go be amazing at your job and then fly back home to us."

"That's exactly what I'll do."

Bradley left the airport a few minutes later in a military sanctioned vehicle on his way to the U.S. Naval base in Yokosuka. He was about to find out just how intense this training mission was going to be and how much he was going to miss his family. 

"Lieutenant Bradshaw? My name is Admiral Palmer." Before he had a chance to respond or even address the older man, Bradley had a binder thrust into his hands. "Here is your tentative schedule. I'm sure we will add to it as we go. We'll start each morning at first light. You will need to be here before that. No outside communication on your personal devices. No outside communication that is not supervised. Please be advised that information about your room in the barracks as well as the cafeteria hours are listed in your paperwork. We will see you here tomorrow."

As Bradley begrudgingly handed over his phone, he was already missing his collection of photos. Not even the dirty ones as much as the ones where you and Noah were playing with sidewalk chalk or reading together. All he'd been able to do was shoot you a quick text letting you know he'd communicate again as soon as he could, and then it was gone before he got a response. He just had to trust that you'd take care of yourself and Noah. Just like last time, but now with the baby, too.

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

We're about to see how well Princess can handle that growing household without him at home. Daddy is going to struggle with the limited contact, I fear. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 55

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

[gh0st-in-green-c0nverse]

burned

percy jackson x gn! reader — you’re all alone in an alley in NYC. what could go wrong??

tw — violence

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You’re cold.

You’re cold and afraid, shaking in an alley somewhere in downtown New York.

You try to think about camp. About the rolling hills, the sweet strawberries, the campfire. About your friends, about target practice, the climbing walls.

Percy should be here. He should’ve been here— you check your watch — fifteen minutes ago. But he’s not, and your thoughts are running wild.

The wind howls louder. You shut your eyes.

The wound on your leg stings. You’re coiled around it, hunched forward in a meager attempt to shield it from whatever. Meet back here in 30, you’d told him. He nodded; you drew your dagger and he lifted riptide out of its sheath. And then you went separate ways, a desperate attempt to get the monsters off your trail, to confuse them by being in two places at once. It’d worked, partially, and you would’ve been fine, except for the fact that he’s not here. So you’re not fine.

There’s a commotion at the mouth of the alley, and your head snaps up.

A woman stumbles into view, smartly dressed with long blonde hair down to her waist. She notices you, and you freeze.

“Excuse me, do you have a map? I just can’t seem to—”

“y/n, no!”

Percy’s voice echoes off the walls, and your heart drops at his audible panic.

Her smile turns from airheaded to sinister. Fangs peek over her bottom lip.

Multiple things happen at once.

You lunge forward, dagger in hand, but she grabs your wrist with a vice grip. She squeezes, and squeezes, and you’re certain she’s going to snap your wrist in half when Percy rushes in, almost runs headfirst into the brick wall.

She wrenches the knife from your hand and turns it on you. Percy lifts riptide. You stumble backwards; the tip of riptide shines through her chest.

Two blades are thrusted forward. Twin gasps of pain meet your ears.

One of them sounds suspiciously like you.

The woman dissolves, dust flaking away to reveal Percy, breathing hard. His face is bruised. It’s upsetting, even though you really should be used to it by now. You just wish he would get hurt less.

Something throbs under your ribs. It feels like a cramp, but it gets worse and worse until it burns, You’re burning—

Your knees buckle and Percy runs to you. Your head doesn’t hit the ground, so you assume he caught you.

The entire left side of you is on fire. You can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips.

The delicate skin around his eye is blooming an angry red. You reach out for it weakly, and he winces when your knuckle brushes the bruise.

“You’re hurt,” you say quietly.

Percy gently grabs your hand, lowers it from his face. “I’m okay,” he soothes. “I’m right here.”

Why does he feel so far away then?

His hands move again. You’re still cold.

Your eyes flutter, tongue lead in your mouth. You realize with dim fascination that he’s cradling your face. It’d be quite intimate if your vision wasn’t darkening at the edges.

“You’re gonna be okay. They’re almost here. Just… just stay with me.”

You have so many questions. Who’s they? Why are his hands so warm?

Percy’s looking at you with a fear in his eyes that shakes you to your very bones. His eyes rake over your face as if he’ll never see you again. You still don't understand. All you know is the sinking feeling in your chest, the creeping nothing in the corners of your eyes, and the dull ache in your side.

You don't remember closing your eyes, but you do remember Percy shaking you.

“y/n,” he pleads, voice trembling in a way that you haven't heard before. “It’s alright. Just open your eyes for me, yeah? Please— please.”

He’s shivering. You feel absolutely horrible about the whole ordeal, despite your very limited understanding of the situation. You want to assure him it’ll probably be fine, that you’ll bounce back because you guys always bounce back, but this time you’re not sure.

“I’m sorry,” you rasp, the words sandpaper in your throat.

The darkness swallows you whole.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

lmk if I should write a part two? I dunno if anyone will read it

[http-tokki]

my fucking elbow!

~ levi ackerman x reader ~ tags/cw: fluff, explicit language, established relationships, canonverse. ~wc: 530

The piercing howl that rips from your throat has Levi jumping into action. Springing over his desk and across the small office, he is in the dim kitchenette a second after the cry left you. He pants as he searches for you, eyes frantically darting around the room, heartbeat quickening with each passing second until he spots you crumpled in on yourself, arms wrapped around your shaking frame, fingers gripping your elbows.

"What's happening, why are you? What's wrong?" The words spill out of him, an unfiltered stream of concern flowing between his lips.

Levi reaches you, dropping to his knees on the hard tile and grips your shoulders. He tears you upright, panic flooding his bloodstream in a cold flash. Tears line your eyes, eyebrows furrowed in pain, and teeth gritted as you hiss.

"My fucking elbow."

Levi blinks slowly, pulling away from you as the realisation sets in.

"I hit my elbow, and it really hurts." You're crying now, fat tears spilling over your cheeks as you rub your aching joint.

Levi sits back on his haunches, a smile cracking at the absurdity. You, a decorated war hero and veteran, had just screamed and carried on as if you had been fatally wounded. He had seen you rip an arrow from your thigh, patch together your slashed arm, reposition your dislocated knee without so much as a cry, and now a knock to your elbow had you seizing up and crying?!

"Stop laughing! It hurts!" you whine, weakly kicking at your laughing husband.

"I'm not laughing at you; it's just the situation," he explains, pushing your hair back from your face. "I've seen your experience worse, and this is the injury that brings you down?" it is impossible to keep the laughter from infiltrating his every word. "I'm sorry. Are you okay, my love?"

You sniff and turn away from him, still cradling your arms and sigh loudly. "You're so mean. I hope you hurt your elbow, and when you cry about this, I'll laugh at you, too!" A giggle slips through your offended facade.

Levi stands, knees popping and aching at the move against gravity and snorts at your dramatics. "I'm going to be so careful now to not hit my elbow, and you'll never get to laugh at me!"

The exchange is childish, but it feels good; it feels natural to laugh and tease in light of the world around you. These moments are few and far between, but when they do happen, you are grateful to see a side of your lover you rarely do these days. You watch as Levi turns away, walking back into his office to finish the work he had abandoned in favour of your safety, and once he is out of sight, you turn your attention back to your bruised arm. The tingling and pain have subsided, a small purple bloom, the only remnant of the torture your nervous system was under not two seconds ago; you poke the small mark to test the level of pain you would feel if you were to hit it again but are interrupted by Levi's scream from the room over.

"I just stubbed my fucking toe!"

a/n: i got to see my baby again for one last time ahhhh I lub him s much I wanna cry please levi become real and let me love you

[kimchikrust]

Simon prefers to take breaks next to you. He likes to lean against you and feel your body pressed against him. When you run your palms over him, it reminds him you’re there. 

He worries that one day, he won’t have you and won’t know how to stop. He thinks he doesn’t deserve you or your kindness. The way you insist on him resting. The way you insist he lowers his mask.

You’d never ask him to remove the mask, you love him whether or not he wears it. It’s not up to you what he reveals to everyone else, but when he’s with you…Just you… it’s different. 

And you can tell. The entire squad can tell. He carries a gentleness reserved for you, and you feel like you’re on top of the world when he shows it to you. When he silently pulls his balaclava back, his cropped hair stands in all directions. When you can see the love in his eyes behind the faded black paint.

Simon hates sleeping by himself. The bed is always too empty, too cold. But when you’re with him, and some part of your body is draped over his, the warmth from your body and steady heartbeat lull him to sleep. 

He doesn’t know how to express his feelings through words, but it’s enough to know that he trusts you. He can rest with you, sleep peacefully, and not worry so much. 

You’re his loyal teammate, and you’ve been around for so long that Simon doesn’t like to think about before you entered his life. 

Sometimes he gets scared of your recklessness. How you don’t value your life compared to his or Price’s. 

“You’re my best friend,” you murmur to him one quiet night. You’ve joined him outside for a smoke, and what’s great about your company is that you don’t force a conversation. You’re as content as he is sitting in silence. 

“I’m your only friend,” he gruffs in return because he can’t find himself to deny it. 

You’re so expressive compared to him. You love sharing how you feel; sometimes, Simon doesn’t know how to react. 

“You think we can be happy?” You ask him after returning from a mission. He lost you somewhere in the middle, but when you returned to the group, you were covered in blood that wasn’t yours. Even though you pointed a gun at him, assuming he was the enemy, he could remember the relief he felt when his mind registered that it was you. Unharmed, a little traumatized, but safe. 

He looks at you, stone-faced with the skull mask. “I do.”

Even though you’re sent through hell, it doesn’t matter to Simon. Aside from the mission, he only cares about getting you back home. When a situation worsens, he imagines the night after returning from the mission. When Soap convinces everyone to drink, he can watch you drunkenly dance from the bar. 

And he thinks to himself, What would I do without you?

“I’d die for you, Si,” you confess when it’s just the two of you in the gym, not looking at him but finding your fingers more entertaining. “Not because you’re my Lieutenant.”

I know, his voice whispers in the back of his head. And he hates that you’d throw yourself in front of a bullet for him. “I know,” he answers quietly, and the way you solemnly nod your head makes his head hang low. “I need you to live for me.”

And when you finally sacrifice yourself for him, his hands shake against you as he compresses the wound. He’s sweating, but he feels cold with you lying in front of him with a paling face and glossy eyes. 

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “You need to get-” You can’t finish your sentence because you’re choking on your blood. 

“I’m getting you out too, runt,” he huffs, hauling you up in his arms like a doll. You can hear gunshots and feel Simon running as you jostle against him. “Don’t close your eyes.”

You die that day. Your heart stops beating, and your chest doesn’t rise for air. 

But somebody decides you deserve a second chance. Or that Simon deserves a break. And when he’s informed that you’ll be okay and that you’ll recover, his knees almost give out. 

He’s next to your bed when you finally wake up weeks later. And even with a hospital gown, crust-rimmed eyes, and mussed hair, Simon thinks you look like an angel when you smile at him.

“You can’t do that to me,” he whispers. “You can’t- I thought-...I thought I lost you.” It’s just the two of you in your hospital room. The door’s locked because Simon pulls his mask off to reveal his grief-stricken expression.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” you croak with weak chords. 

Simon grits his teeth, and his eyes are brimming with tears, and he doesn’t know why he feels overwhelmed suddenly. “I was never afraid before you showed up.”

You laugh softly, giving him a watery smile. You hold your hand out for him, and he rests his paw in your frail hold. He feels you try to squeeze his hand the best you can. It’s a reminder that you’re there with him. Alive.

“When’s the last time you slept, Si?”

He shrugs. He doesn’t know the answer.

You take his silence as an answer and carefully tug him closer. Simon sits beside your bed, and you keep his hand against you. You’d rather he join you on the bed, but it’s too small, and you’re still in pain.

“I’m okay,” you gently remind him. “You can rest now.”

And even though he’s sitting upright in a chair, and your monitors are beeping obnoxiously on the other side of your bed, it’s the most peaceful sleep he’s had since the mission.

[byhees]

when you accidentally hurt yourself.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 600 genre fluff established relationship non-idol au warnings not proof-read skinship kissing petnames mention of injuries, cuts — more

a/n. requested!

heeseung would be so incredibly sweet; the way he’d tend to your injuries with such gentle touches— “you alright, baby?” he’d ask, looking up to meet your gaze, his hands in the midst of bandaging the cut on your knee; would raise a hand to softly wipe away fallen tears, planting a pretty kiss on your lips to make you feel all better…

jay would, initially, begin nagging at you; although there’s a furrow painted on his features, the soft look in his eyes doesn't fail to show his care and concern— “baby... didn’t i tell you before that it’d be dangerous?” he’d lightly chide, tending to the wound on your leg with soft caution; wouldn’t tear his gaze from you, worry-filled eyes watching as you carry out daily tasks with a limp— would offer his help in a heartbeat…

jake would be so soft; doesn’t hesitate to rush to your side, an arm swiftly wrapping around your build to steady and support your bodyweight— his first priority would definitely be your comfort; wouldn’t wait a mere millisecond to carry you in his arms, resting you at a bench nearby; “oh gosh... did you sprain your ankle? do you think you're still able to walk?” he’d ask, though it seems natural to him that he piggyback you back home, no matter the answer; would press sweet kisses all over your face as consolation…

sunghoon would be so meticulous, despite the injury being a small cut on your finger; “is this okay, baby? or does it hurt a lot?” he’d check in with you almost minutely, pure concern clouding his eyes— and when you’d reply with a little giggle, he’d only shoot his gaze towards your direction, lips curling downwards in a small frown; “what's so funny?” he’d ask, lips puckering in a tiny pout; ‘charming’ would be a better word, you think— especially when he’s carefully angling a huge bandaid over your little paper-cut…

sunoo would be gentle beyond the capabilities of words; the way he’d softly gaze up at you, slipping a small “this will hurt a little”, before lightly dabbing the cut with a disinfecting wipe; would probably pick out the cutest bandaid for you. “be careful, okay? it hurts to see you in pain,” he’d add, lightly ruffling the top of your head with adoration brimming from his gaze…

jungwon would, unexpectedly, be really serious; if it were to be concerning any other thing, he’d probably be more lighthearted— your health and safety, however? that tops the list of importance; doesn’t waste another second to dash over, one knee to the ground as he examines the gaping wound on your leg; although his brows dig deeply into his skin, a disgruntled expression glued onto his face, he’d try his best to make his concern less obvious, not wanting you to worry. “c’mon baby, i’ll carry you on the way back— it’s no biggie,” he’d add, flashing a sweet smile towards your direction…

riki would be so worried; one second you two were jokingly fooling around, the next you were laying on the ground, a pained expression tugging on your features— would immediately drop everything and anything just to check up on you; would be so tender, yet cautious, not wanting to be the one inflicting pain on you— “is this okay for you? let me know if it gets uncomfortable”, he’d softly say, tending to the cut on your leg with pure gentleness; “gosh.. you’re so clumsy, baby”, he’d lightly chide, shaking his head in soft disbelief— best believe that he’d spoil you with affection and tons of kisses throughout your recovery…

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @vnsux @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @nwjws @ibsysbsfsunsbs @rikisly @amyysfics @mixtape-racha @berry-and-kkami @rikislady @gweoriz @czlluvriki @okwonyo @okwons networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

[ponderingmoonlight]

how would yuta react to his crush telling him he’s pretty while she’s injured and like delerious ig? 😭

Yuta’s heartbeat pumps through his ears, makes it impossible to focus on anything but you.

You, laying right in front of him.

You, laying in a puddle of blood.

A lot of blood. Too much, to be exact. He kneels down, inspects your gaping wounds. If he came here sooner, if he only arrived in Shibuya earlier, maybe none of this would have happened.

“I’m…so tired”, you mumble, lids threaten to flutter shut.

“Focus on me, okay? We need to get you out of here, (y/n).”

You furrow your eyebrows, concentrate your foggy vision on the person in front of you. He seems so familiar, like someone you haven’t seen in a long time. If your eyes would just focus on him…

“Yuta….Yuta, is that you?”

He smiles at you gently, cups your cheek like he always imagined to. You were always on his mind. No matter where he was, no matter how late in the night. All he could ever think about was coming back to you.

“It’s me, (y/n). You have no idea how nice it is to finally see you again-“

“Come closer”, you instruct him with weak voice.

“I need to see you…closer.”

Yuta swallows hard. Even though you’re covered in blood and probably delirious, you look just as stunning as you did back then when he left.

With your eyes and lips only inches away from his face, he suddenly feels insecure again. No matter how well he trained, he will never be good enough for someone like you. You are like an angel walking on this earth, so gorgeous that you turn heads on a regular basis. But not only that, you are also incredibly smart and talented. Why would you fall for someone like him? Why does he still chase after a dream that will never come true?

“You look so beautiful, Yuta.”

He lets out his breath, widened eyes staring at your tired smile. You didn’t just say that, right?

“You’re a little delirious because of the blood loss, let me get you out-“

“You are beautiful. I always thought so. And that new haircut really suits you”, you mumble.

You are beautiful…When was the last time he heard someone say this to him? No, it doesn’t matter when or who someone said this so him. His eyes take in your sight along with your words while his cheeks turn bright pink.

“Come on, (y/n). I will carry you out of here”, he finally manages to press out, threaten to fall over with his knees wobbly like pudding.

“I’m asking for it.”

“Yuta…”, you mutter again while he carries you over the debris and death.

“What is it?”

“Did I tell you that you’re beautiful already?”

"Y-Yeah..."

[ilyhaitanii]

would you still love me with blood on my hands? ft. blade

nsfw. blade is very soft and in love with you, mentions of blood and violence, he is called “ren” in this fic, illusions to reader being reincarnated, hes a groaner #sorrynotsorry

the thing blade loves about you is how unconditional your love for him is. no matter how many times he comes home, his palms and chest oozing with blood from his cuts, you still collect him into your arms and wrap a gauze over his bleeding wounds. as soft and gentle as your touches are, blade can’t help but want to push you away, tell you to not bother with him because your soft, pure hands don’t deserve to touch his tainted skin.

yet you push past all his walls, you push past the gauze he wraps around his chest and heart and tear through it and force him to accept your love. no matter how ridged his body may go every time you run your fingers through his hair or slide them over his bare waist in the mornings, he will continue to melt into your warmth.

his head rests against your chest, reminding himself he must live for as long as your heartbeats. once you are gone he can live however he pleases, be as reckless as he wishes to be. he can truly be a weapon of destruction, be a true pawn for nanook.

until then though, blade will allow you to warm his freezing body and heart, allow you to slip your hands into his and calm down the turmoil in his mind.

when you gently slot your lips onto his for the first time in months, blade can’t help but want to sob. you’re so soft, so loving. a tear does slip down his cheek, sliding itself into your tongues. the salty-sweet taste of your combined tears making your desperation for one another even stronger.

“ren,” you call out to him as his chapped lips kiss down your jawbone. he doesn’t respond, he never does. but his hands grip at your hips, pulling you further onto his lap. your knees dig into the sofa cushions, lips agape. you make quick work of his jacket, unbuttoning the front and allowing it to slip off of him.

his hands glide under your tanktop, freeing your chest from the cloth. he pulls away from your skin to take a look at you. your cheeks are flushed the same color as the bites on your neck and collarbone.

blade stares at you, deep into your eyes. he stares so intensely that you have to look away and hide your face from him. he sighs, taking your two smaller hands into his, placing them onto his heart. his beating heart. you gasp slightly at the feeling, eyes welling with tears.

that’s right— he’s your ren. he will live for you. he has lived hundreds of years by your side. he has watched you come back to him in every lifetime. he always kisses the 刃 symbol on your nape, allowing to be a seal of his love for you.

no matter how many times you have died in his arms, how many lifetimes you have loved him, blade always knows it is your because of this mark. he does not believe in any specific god, but he thanks al the aeons out there for always leading you back to him.

you love him despite his heart and hands being tainted with blood— with violence and anger. you are able to calm him.

you were his muse when he once lived as yingxing, you are his reason as he now lives as blade.

blade’s hands find their way to your chest and waist, tugging your body even closer to him. his free hand groaps at your chest, gently swirling the sensitive nipple between his fingers. your face is pressed into his neck, whimpering and whining at the feeling of his rough fingertips. he hums against your skin as his other hand slides under your skirt, thumbing at your panties.

“ren, stop teasing,” you whine into his scarred skin, fingers digging into his bare shoulders. you suck at the soft skin of his neck, your teeth gently toying with it. he finally retracts his hand and slides off your skirt and lays you properly on the couch.

his hands slide up and down your thighs, parting the limbs around his waist. he gets a good look at your satin panties slicked and soiled. he kisses up and down your tummy, playfully biting at your skin. you yelp, giggling as he tickles you gently.

he chuckles softly and your heart melts. that’s a noise you haven’t heard in months. your hands cup his face, bringing it back up to yours for a kiss. your arms loop around his neck as the two of you indulge in this moment. his hands make quick work of your panties and his belt.

the metal jingles as it falls to the ground, and blade pops open the button of his pants. his fingers wrap around the base of his cock, giving it a few pumps as his other hand slides between your legs. the moment his finger sinks into your cunt, a squelching noise is heard.

your face flushes deeply as you melt back into his neck, puffing and whining. he chuckles again, kissing your ears as he enjoys your embarrassment.

“you’re awfully wet,” he says in that raspy voice of his. your head is swirling as his thumb comes up and toys with your clit. right then his fingers find your favorite spot and curls into it.

“oh ren!” you moan, head falling back against the arm rest of the sofa. he smiles into your neck, leaving marks and kisses. he slides another finger into your cunt, scissoring you open to fit him inside.

“you’re so pretty,” he says under his breath as he pulls out his fingers. he takes a hold of his cock, tapping the leaky head of it against your clit for good measure. it causes you to buck your hips up into him to which he gently smiles.

he lines himself up with your hole, watching as your face contorts when he pushes himself into you. blade can’t believe how beautiful you are. your hands search for his and he gives into you. his icy cold hand intertwines with yours, squeezing it gently as you squeeze around his cock.

he lets out a sort of whine when you wiggle your hips gently. you push him back against the sofa and allow yourself to be on top. your knees dig into the cushion again, as you sink yourself deeper onto him.

he looks at you with his lips agape and chest rising. his neck is littered with bites and lipstick stains from you. you giggle to yourself wishing you had a camera to commemorate this moment. blade pinches your waist, brows furrowing.

“what are you laughing at?” he suddenly feels a bit self conscious as tries to sit up, but you giggle again and push him back down.

“your eyes are beautiful, ren.” you say to him in a gingerly tone. blade’s hands that rested on your hips loop around your waist now, pressing his face into your chest. you kiss the top of his head and finally decide to move on his cock.

he unexpectedly groans, grabbing onto your hips. however, he doesn’t stop you as the pleasure shocks his body. he feels your throb whenever he makes any sort of noise, so he pushes himself closer to your ear and groans when you bounce on his cock.

the sound of your cunt mixing into his cock is like music to his ears. your whiney noises make blade’s cock leak even more and he swears he could cum to the sound of your voice. your lips find his again, greedily latching onto him.

the desperation and need to cum overtakes your body as you fasten your pace. blade aids you, moving your hips up and down his cock. his free hand finds its way between your bodies and flicks at your clit making you gush around him.

“you can come, love.” he says so softly, you almost don’t hear it. with a few more rubs at your clit and with his lips sucking at your nipples you fall apart onto his lap.

“oh my- ren im cumming, oh!” you let out a squeak, moaning shakily as you cum all over his cock. blade isnt to far behind you as he pushes you down onto the sofa, hooking your leg over his shoulder and fucking into your soaking heat. he dips his head down to the curve of your neck and groans as he cums. the both of you swear you came again hearing his noises.

blade looks down at you as you catch your breath. he gathered you back into his arms, allowing you to lay comfortably on his lap. he moves any hair out of your face, leaving a plethora of soft kisses along your cheeks and lips which make you giggle. you cup his jaw and watch the way he nuzzles his face into the warmth of your palm.

“ren,” you call out his name and he looks at you attentively. you lean up, leaving a kiss onto the scar on his heart and look back into his crimson eyes.

“i love you.” and for the first time in his life, blade believes he is worth being loved despite the scars and blood that stains his hands.

© ilyhaitanii - please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my content, and do not repost it to any other platforms

[yawnderu]

K-9 — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Chapter III

Sick as a dog, and just as vicious.

1 2 3 4 5

You work magic with your hands

Or

The human body is able to withstand extreme damage.

"Medic!" Price's voice boomed across base, heavy footsteps following right after. The door slammed open before you could even get up, Gaz and Simon carrying a bloodied Soap. They set him down on the medical bed and you got up, rushing to them and examining the damage.

It's incredible, really, how the human body can withstand extreme conditions and stay resilient, such as a gunshot that had blood leaking out of Johnny's head like a faucet.

"Out. With me, Simon." You bark out orders and the men obey, Price patting your shoulder twice, the look in his eyes saying much more than words. Fix him.

"Apply pressure on the wound." Simon nods his head, quickly discarding his skull gloves as his bare hands apply pressure on Johnny's chest to limit the blood loss. You felt a weak pulse earlier, yet the sound of the EKG machine as soon as you hook him up served as reassurance. You immediately put on your gloves, not bothering to hook him up to an IV to avoid wasting time. His heartbeat is weak, but he's still here.

Your hands get to work immediately as Simon begins to treat the wound on Johnny's chest, a much simpler injury than the bullet in his head. You bring the light closer to his head, able to make out the familiar glint of the bullet encrusted in his brain.

Twelve hours. That's how long it took to complete surgery on Johnny to remove the bullet in his head and stabilize him. He's a lucky motherfucker; the base of his brain and spinal cord being completely untouched, allowing him to be part of the 10% of people who have survived a headshot.

Your knees give out right after you make sure Johnny is all covered up, exhaustion and stress along with the disappearing adrenaline finally catching up to you. Strong arms wrap around your torso to prevent you from falling— Simon, who refused to leave your office, staying awake those twelve hours in case his help was needed.

"With you, lass." He reminds you, helping you stand up and guiding you to your chair, crouching down to get a better look at you.

"Need a cuppa?" He asked gently, the back of his hand making contact with your forehead to check for your temperature.

"Fucking brits..." You grumble, tired eyes looking down at him, the way his gaze softens and the corners of his mouth tilt up into a small smile, a deep laugh escaping out of his lips for a second.

"Some coffee?" You nod your head, hands going under your glasses to gently rub your eyes as you struggle to stay awake. He gets up, hand on your shoulder squeezing softly to make you look up at him.

"I'll go tell that lot Johnny made it, think you can stay awake until they're here?" His words had hints of teasing despite the concern in his eyes, only turning away once you nodded your head. You got up from the chair, walking over to the medical bed and looking at Johnny's unconscious body. His heart beat was stable, at the very least.

"I miss you, Johnny." Your hand reaches out to hold his, squeezing softly before you bring it to your lips and plant a soft kiss on his knuckles, slowly putting his hand back on his stomach. As annoying as he can be, he feels like a younger brother, someone you'd lay down your own life for with no hesitation, though that secretly goes for the rest of the team.

You take a step back when you hear footsteps approaching, pretending to fix the new IV injected to him.

"Doc." Price greets, walking over to you and looking down at Johhny. Bruised and bloody, but alive.

"Knew I made the right choice with you." His heavy hand pats your shoulder, managing to offer you a smile despite all the stress he was in, not knowing whether or not one of his boys was going to make it.

"I'm honored, Captain." He could hear the appreciation under the layer of sarcasm.

"I don't know when he's going to wake up, but there wasn't any damage on the frontal lobe or top of the brain, so probably not gonna have brain damage either... not that it'd make much of a difference." You drift off, eyebrows furrowing slightly as you think back on the twelve hours that just passed, the deep chuckle escaping the captain turning your attention back to him.

"Good. Go rest, Gaz and I will take turns watching over him." You simply nod, turning away to leave and patting his arm gently as you walk past. A small smirk sets on your lips when you feel the muscle, quickly leaving the office and going to your quarters. You barely manage to remove the bloodstained white coat before you collapse in bed, any thoughts about what happened and the coffee Simon was making for you completely forgotten as you finally drift off to sleep.

[PREVIOUS] [NEXT]

[itsphoenix0724]

Can You Kill A God? (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: No one will ever forget why you are Death's queen ever again.

Based on another fic I wrote which you can read here

Warnings: Gore, blood, the reader is a little sinister but I love it, SMUT (unprotected sex, breeding kink?, oral: m and f receiving)

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I've been really missing Death!Az and Life!Reader recently. Also, I've had an obsession with Get In The Water from Epic the musical and this is what spawned. I did set in Ancient Greece so I did mention a Greek city. Happy New Year!!!

It started as a petty slight. Some stupid mortal king had said they feared Death more than War, so the god had raged a challenge. Your husband doesn’t normally involve himself in other matters, he had no need.

Eris was irrelevant to him.

Of all the other gods he is the only one who was inevitable, who would be permanent despite all odds. Azriel didn’t even feel the need to acknowledge the God of War, but he had started harming your creations, which was unacceptable in his eyes.

The souls had come into the underworld brutalized, they curled into your lap as you wiped their tears with the gossamer of your gown and told you that they had been sent as a message. You shed your own tears as you escorted them to eternal paradise and Death’s eyes went dark with promise as he cupped your jaw. 

Then he prepared for battle. 

You had to return to the overworld soon, the last phases of winter thawing into springtime greenery. He would sort this mess out before you leave his protection realm. Azriel gathered his allies and they outfitted themselves for combat. He took care to strap the armor to your chest, the gauntlets on your arms, and around your calves, kissing his devotion before securing every piece of metal. You did the same to him taking extra care to protect his heart.

The sight of you almost sent him to his knees.

There are still flowers wound through your hair, nightshade and belladonna make a deadly crown, and the golden glow that seems to permanently surround you bounces off the obsidian steel of your armor.

The battle had been bloody and long, it felt as if you’ve been here for days. Your dress was torn, the cloth shredded around your feet. Blood covered your entire front, caked and cracked into your skin. 

You cannot kill a god. 

But that doesn’t make the battle any less gruesome. 

Nothing would touch you thanks to Death looming over your shoulder. Every attack that may have hit you was deflected by your husband and vice-versa until the God of War catches onto this little tactic and baits Azriel by attacking you. Az had jumped in front of you, a wall of shadows blasting the God of War back a few feet at the risk of wounding him. 

But Death had fallen, red blood spilling sickly and sweet onto the fresh spring grass. It reminds you of a splitting pomegranate as the red seeps out and stains the dirt, every god in the field halts their battle and watches 

You fall to your knees in front of him, vines starting to curl around him as your magic begs to erupt from your chest to protect what’s yours. Eris gloats from his spot hovering in the air, laughing at Azriel struggling to breathe around the blood coming up his throat. The thorn vines wrap around Azriel to ward off any who might try to weaken him further as you rise to your feet. 

“Flower,” he wheezes around a cracked rattle in his throat, shaking his head and trying to sit up. You shush him gently pouring golden light into his chest that does nothing. You are not the Goddess of Healing, life will never stop death, so Az will have to heal on his own. War still mocks your shushing, your tears, calling your magic pathetic.

The earth beneath you starts to rumble. 

You are the Goddess of Life, the Goddess of the Earth, the World Shaker, and you will make every God here remember why you are Queen of the Underworld. 

Rising to your feet, the earth grumbles and shudders under the very force of your erratic heartbeat. War made a mistake waging this battle in Sparta, his arrogance will be his downfall. Your entire body shakes with rage as you stare at Eris from his spot in the air. 

“Get on the ground Eris.” Your voice rumbles in time with the splitting of the earth and War widens his eyes at the splintering ground. Yet, his overconfidence keeps him hovering out of your reach.

“Go home, Little Goddess” He drawls, “You’ve been beaten.” he spits at you with venom in his eyes—a dark, dark laugh bubbles out of your chest like molten lava. 

“If you don’t come down here I will collapse every wall in your city, and kill everyone in it.” You glare up at him, and he laughs shaking his head in disbelief. “Don’t believe me?” You quirk a brow and the rise around the city starts to shake. “Tell me God, what happens when every last worshiper of yours is dead?” His eyes widen in fear then. 

Because that is how you kill a god, you force them into the darkness of being forgotten until they waste away like little more than salt in water. 

Faster than a breath thorn-covered vines shoot from the earth and surround War kicking and screaming, golden light begins to glow brightly from your eyes as your fury hauls him to the ground.

 People seem to forget that Death is the calm acceptance of something coming to an end. Life joins this realm wailing its existence to the stars, Life can be a very violent thing.

You will break him beyond repair, you can’t hear the sounds of Eris choking on his blood, the only noise in your head is the dull thumping of a war drum. He fights back with as much power as he can muster, but you’re barely trembling with the effort it takes to hold him there. The sinister in your smile reflects in his shining, terrified eyes. 

How pretty would it be if lilies sprouted from his lungs? 

Someone may be calling your name but you can’t hear anything, the tunnel vision threatening to collapse you entirely. You might not be able to kill him like this but regrowing all of his organs certainly would take some time. Feeling the golden power writhe and wrap around his heart, begging you to let it off its leash and crush, but it’s then that you feel the cooling darkness wrap around your shoulders. Death sweeps his chill gaze over War after rising to his feet. You still hold the line firm, one arm shooting out to block Azriel from any further advancement. The light in your eyes still refuses to dim, but Az wraps a hand around your jaw delicately turning your face toward him. 

“You’ve made your point My Love,” the steady weight of his hand calms the rising heat in your blood. “It’s time to let him go.” Azriel didn’t particularly care if you ripped Eris apart and scattered him to the seas, but he knew the guilt would threaten to drag you into the abyss entirely. The light dims, and you drop your hand. Eris falls to the ground like a puppet dropped from strings, coughing blood like shiny red rubies onto the grass. You’re only looking at Az, the wash of reassurance running over your body as you finally process that he’s whole–that he’s standing. 

He’s alright. 

Death doesn’t deign to even look at War as shadows come around you like dark silk, and you’re back in his realm. He finally sags into your arms as he lets the facade drop, the real pain and exhaustion catching up to him. Az thinks you might call for a medic, but it feels like someone is holding his head underwater. The silk of the sheets feels distant against his skin as your hand strokes his face, and he finally lets his eyes slip closed. 

Azriel sleeps for four days. 

He wakes in your bedroom, your presence absent, but a pitcher of water remains on the bedside table. The armor he’d donned for battle had been stripped from him, replaced by a black chiton that fell loosely around his chest and hips. He chugs half the water in one go as his power reaches out frantically for you, his heart settles when he feels like your golden aura, and he rises to set off looking. 

He finds you beneath an ever-blooming willow tree in Asphodel fields, reading animatedly to a group of children, the golden reeds bellowing in the fresh spring air. They scatter as he leans against the trunk, giggling and laughing as they chase each other into the meadow. You’re overjoyed when you see your husband, throwing his arms around him and crashing his lips to yours. 

“Are you all right?” You mutter, gently pushing back the curtain of black hair that had fallen into his eyes. You’re so delicate with him, Azriel feels his heart skip two beats in his chest. 

“I’m content,” He hums lazily dropping his nose into your hairline, the lingering smell of lilies floods his senses and calms his nerves as it always does. He nudges his nose to your pulse point before biting gently at your fluttering heartbeat. 

“Azriel,” your voice reverberates into his chest, twinning heartbeats thudding together. “You’re still injured.” he continues his exploration of your neck, nipping his displeasure at your attempt to coddle him. Your body shudders as he finds a sensitive point, and you can feel his smug smile at your jugular. 

“Let me worship my Goddess in peace,” he rumbles relishing in the feel of your skin and the golden warmth of the fresh sun. He drops to his knees in the dirt, pressing devotion into the curve of your knee as your back thumps against the bark of the willow. He smirks as flowers bloom around you in time with your bashfulness, red poppies matching the pretty flush on your cheeks. 

“The souls,” You whip your head from side to side as he runs his hands along the sensitive skin of your thighs. He tilts his head in contemplation, hazel eyes reflecting the warmth like molten gold.

You feel his power ripple around you and a blanket of silence covers the area. Everything goes quiet, no birds chirping or animals running through the surrounding forest, even the rustling of the grass in the wind falls silent under his command. 

“No one will bother us now,” Azriel muses, continuing his travels, you squirm under his attention as he climbs higher and higher. 

“You’ve been asleep for four days,” You barely get the words out as he runs his thumb delicately over the apex of your thighs, enjoying the feel of you under his hands. “You should really eat something,” He growls his frustration as he bites a dark mark on the sensitive skin. 

“I’m trying too, if you would stop interrupting me.” His eyes turn almost black as he focuses his attention on your core again, brushing aside the scrap of silk covering you. Az lets out a guttural moan as your scent floods his senses.  He dives in then, feasting on you like he needs it more than air.

He’s wasted precious time with you since he’s been asleep, winter is caving to the sweet spring, but it seems the cold is listening to his prayers and holding on just a little longer. He licks straight to your center, tasting the honeyed sweetness as it floods his mouth. No matter how many centuries you spend together you are always still so responsive to him, you’re twitching and squirming against the tree just about to tumble over that edge when you yank his head away to pull him to his feet. His eyes are glazed over and your slick is dripping down his chin, you haul his mouth to yours tasting yourself on his tongue. All of a sudden his back is against the tree and you sink to your knees before him, tearing at belt holding up the fabric around his waist.

It seems that you’ve missed him as well. 

You look up at him through batting lashes, and Azriel strokes his hand along your jaw in adoration. You take him in your mouth and Az feels like molten iron has been poured down his spine, white-hot pleasure blinding all of his senses. Death’s knees begin to buckle under Life’s ministrations, the smug look in her eyes adding to the crumbling of his resolve. He has always laid everything he is at your feet, intimacy is no different. You stroke the rest of won’t fit in your mouth in time with the bobbing of your head and he feels weightless. 

Your tongue strokes along a vein on the side of his cock and he explodes almost embarrassingly quickly. It appears that four days had taken more of a toll on him than anticipated. He scoops you into his arms and in a blink you’re in your bedroom. The absurdly large bed stretches across the expanse of the room, the open windows letting in the sun. Azriel tosses you on the cool silk sheets as he stalks on top of you. His lips collide with yours again as he slowly draws one hand up your thigh and draws your underwear down, throwing it somewhere behind him. He thrusts into you in one long motion, and the searing pleasure sends a rumble of power that shakes the very foundation of the palace. 

“Calm Flower,” he whispers as he hits the spot inside of you that threatens to launch you into oblivion. “You’ll bring the walls down around us.” You let out a laugh that bubbles into a moan as he continues his languid drive into you over and over. Eventually, Azriel starts to ram into you as his restraint falters like a splitting thread, toying his fingers over the apex of your thighs with musician’s grace as he bites at your neck. He flips you over at lightning speed, your ass in the air as he drives your further into the mattress, your moans muffling into the pillows as your try to keep up with the relentless tempo. You finally tip over the edge right before Az spills himself inside you, your combined release makes him let out a roar so loud the birds flee from their nests in the trees.

He watches himself spill out of you, thrusting it back inside with two of his fingers.

You whine in overstimulation as he crooks his fingers inside of you, he lets out an amused huff as he gently strokes your shaking thighs. Azriel waves a hand, and you hear the water in the bathtub start to run. You stroke a gentle path through his night-dark hair as he leans into your touch. 

Yes, spring may be coming soon. The time with your husband dwindles to sparse moments in a dying winter fire, but as Az scoops you into his arms to take you to the bath you enjoy every single moment you have left.

[imaginesmai]

Promises to keep (2) - Azriel

Part 1

Plot: you and Azriel try to make it out of your captivity in time. With your powers discovered, is up to you to survive enough to save him - and with your powers draining, is up to him to save you.

Warnings: blood and violence, again.

You weren’t the first one to move. Stories about your parents’ death, hunted and slaughtered for their powers, terrified you until you couldn’t force yourself to move. Safe in Velaris, you had never wondered the consequences of a power like yours in such a selfish world.

When the first fae lunched at you, it was Azriel who made her trip with his crippled leg to the ground. His years of training and war showed themselves when the woman didn’t utter another breath, her neck broken in a terrible angle. Your mate growled like a storm, promising death to whoever came close to you.

That thought, Azriel facing them hurt and defenseless, was enough to spur you into action – and everyone else. You weren’t a warrior, not like him. Hadn’t been trained in your power in fear someone would sense it and come for you. You were clumsy, untrained and tired, but you were powerful.

It was blur of blood, iron and light.

Your goal was clear – not to let them close to Azriel. He could defend himself, maybe, for a few minutes. But you weren’t stupid enough to believe he could win against trained soldiers in the state he was in. So you fought, with your power, nails and teeth.

A knife sliced through your collarbone and someone kicked your knee to make you fall. They were blasted away before you touched the ground, only to be replaced by an arm around your throat and a punch against your stomach.

You lost your breath and the light disappeared, and you couldn’t get it back. Not with the male behind you chocking the life out of you, arm and fingers pressing over your windpipe. You wondered briefly if he could break your neck, crush your throat, with just his grip, but he was pushed off you before you could wonder farther.

Azriel’s pained inhale made your light explode, and then everything was silent.

You fell to the ground and curled yourself in a tight ball, your ears ringing. It felt as if every part of your body was covered by fried nerves, the feel of the ground on your skin sickening. Old wounds reopened by the sheer force of your power, blood coming out of them.

The pain and overwhelming feelings weren’t enough obstacle to realize there were no other heartbeats but Azriel’s and yours.

You never used your power, and you were ready to never use them again. The next breath was forced into your lungs when Azriel hastily turned you over and pain wrecked your body. He had a new gash on his forehead, and was covered in blood that wasn’t his.

“Look at me” he grabbed your cheeks and only dared himself to flinch at the obvious pain in your gaze. “You need to breath. You’re not breathing – Y/N! Now!”

He physically recoiled when he moved you, knowing what it would do to your sensitive body. But he had to shake you out of your stupor before it was too late. You finally took a shaky breath and kept hyperventilating, not tearing your gaze away from him.

That was what he had always feared. That you would be forced to use it, because of him, because he wasn’t able to protect you. He had trained harder for centuries, had assured your safety after you found refuge in his court and he became your protector, your friend, your mate and lover. Watching your body rigid with pain and shock, watching you kill those fae for him, was threatening to pull him under another wave of panic and terror.

“Listen to me” he exhaled, his whole body screaming at the movement. “The male – he’s gone. He has managed to get out and he’s coming back. You need to leave. The door is open and –“

“I killed them” you stated, not looking around but smelling their blood.

“It was either them or us. You saved us” Azriel allowed himself a moment of vulnerability, pushing the spy out of him and bringing the caring mate you needed. “I know you are scared. I am scared. And when all of this is over, we can be scared together. But I need you to run, darling, because I can’t hold them off forever when they come back. Don’t look back. Listen for any sound and choose the opposite direction. And if it comes between you and them, you burn this place down”

Those words took you out of your shock, because burning that place down meant burning him with it. Yet you realized he hadn’t included himself in that certain part of the plan, because he was asking you to run without him.

Through fried nerve ends and rigid limbs, you found it in you to be furious. To want to berate for hours about him being a selfless idiot and punch some sense into him. Instead of doing that, you rose up until you were kneeling on shaky limbs. Your burnt hands were bleeding all over again, pressed against the tiles of the cell in an effort to keep you conscious.

You brushed Azriel’s worried hand off your shoulder and got up only blacking out for a few seconds. The cell rotated around you, lights and shadows behind your eyelids.

By the time you could orientate yourself, you noticed Azriel had gotten up too using just one leg, and was keeping you straight between himself and the wall.

“I’m not going to leave you” you stated.

“My love” he used that damned nickname, knowing it made you weak in the knees. “You have to. I can buy you enough time for you to go out. I can’t… you have to”

Looking down, you fixed your gaze on his leg. The sight of open, seeping wounds and sticking bones was enough to tremble your world, and if you looked at his wings, it would only be worse. But you swallowed the lump around your throat and shook your head.

“We are walking out of this cell together, or we wait here together. I’m not gonna leave you”

You couldn’t stop shaking your head, couldn’t stop your voice from trembling. Because living without Azriel would be worse than dying in that cell without him. He seemed to understand he wouldn’t be winning that argument, so he nodded softly. He didn’t protest when you used part of your power as a crutch to keep him steady, when you wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him forward.

Azriel could only look at you swallowing down your pain and wish the Cauldron was merciful enough to keep you safe when he was gone.

He couldn’t identify where you were, because the hallways looked the same. No windows, no rooms. Just walls and ceilings and floors of stone and marble, right and left, long and short. Each step felt like a race against time, and Azriel was aware that you weren’t winning. Without him, you could move at a limited speed. He had seen what using your power meant, after you barely escaped your captors when he found you centuries ago.

Without him, you would be able to walk fast, maybe jog at certain time without rest. But you were holding onto him as if he was the one carrying both of you. You held his weight and used part of your power to keep him straight enough not to fall.

Azriel kept looking behind his shoulder, waiting to see them coming at you. His heart jumped in his throat when he heard a noise, but so far, you had only found two patrols that you had taken care of. The first one was easy – after the second, he had to help you sit down against the wall and wait impatiently for you regain conscious.

“Don’t fall back” he reminded you, even though it was pointless. Your body was slacking off and his was too. “One step at a time”

“I’m trying” your breath came in pants.

“Drop my leg”

“Shut up”

For the fifth time, you refused to let that little help go, even if that was the last remain of your strength. You could do it on your own, you could get out of there without him, but Azriel understood that he wouldn’t. Trying to convince you otherwise, trying to make you see that it was pointless, would be wasting a time that you didn’t have.

So his hope lay on the faebane.

He hadn’t eaten breakfast nor lunch, which was starting to take a toll on his already mangled body. But that meant he hadn’t had faebane in his body for a while. And now, out of that damn cell, he could try to use his powers without risking your life.

He was already starting to feel the bond back, waves of nausea and pain that weren’t his coming in steady waves. Azriel had blocked his part, but you were too busy to notice yours. So he swallowed the stinging of your burned hands, the tightness of your body and the cut on your collarbone.

You didn’t waste time either talking, nor trying to plan your escape. By the time you had escaped the fourth patrol, Azriel was the one carrying you. You didn’t argue when you were lowered to the ground once more, his scarred hand brushing the hair out of your sweaty face.

“I’m not going to drop it” you reminded him, your eyes half-closed. You had never used to much power, but were ready to see where it took you. “Nor leave you”

“Got the point a couple of hours ago. How are you feeling?” he asked, leaving his hand covering your cheek. While you got worse with each minute, Azriel had gained some of his strength and power back. “Tell me how can I help”

“It feels like I’m being turned inside out” you told him honestly, no point in lying when both of your lives were at risk. “I’m hot but shivering, my whole body vibrated and it… I’m tired”

“Let’s get this jacket off, hm?”

You noticed he was still stiff and hurt, but he managed to brush his own jacket off your body and use part of it to clean the dried blood from your face. You closed your eyes against his touch, his warmth. If you drifted far enough, you could pretend you were back in Velaris, Azriel brushing the hair off your face while you fell asleep.

Memories from your relationship filled your mind. The first time you met, how scared you had been and how kind the winged stranger had been. The weeks of healing and explaining, his presence always by your side. Moments together in your shared cabin, taken from granted. If you tried enough, you could pretend you were locked in one of them.

Azriel’s voice brought you back to the present. He tried giving you a reassuring smile, but you could see in his eyes that he had been talking for a while and you hadn’t answered. That he was beyond worried.

“Back with me?” he asked, always gentle.

“Yeah” you looked towards the end of another hallway. “We should keep going. It must end somewhere”

“Rhys is coming” Azriel blurted out, making you slightly more aware. “He must have noticed our presences without the faebane, but I sent some shadows. Just in case. He’s coming, so you just hold on, alright?”

“I can’t feel it” you frowned.

Azriel didn’t bother pointing out that with the drain of your power it was a mystery how you were still conscious. He had watched you twice now lose consciousness, only to come back moments later with your gaze a little darker. Every inch of his power was directed at his high lord, at his brother, because he knew he wouldn’t be getting you out of there on his own.

You stared at him in silence. In a matter of hours, things had changed – Azriel could now walk without your help, a little trembling, but he could manage. His wings were still useless and he almost blacked out too when he rotated his shoulder. Still, things had changed. Because now it was him who stood a chance of making it out, while you dampened in front of him.

It was pointless to turn the tables and ask him to leave, so you decided to give it a rest. You retreated your power from his leg and sagged against the wall. Certainly, you felt like there wasn’t anything left of you.

“Hold on. And that’s an order, not a promise”

“So bossy”

Azriel smiled with silver lines under his bruised eyes. He leaned forward and, for the first time since you were taken, pressed his lips against yours. The kiss tasted like blood, yours or his you couldn’t know. They were gentle and soft, despite the many times his lips had been opened by an angry fist.

He cupped your cheek, as if it was the first time you kissed, and brushed his tongue against your lower lip. Before he could deepen it, he moved his mouth to the corner of yours. To your lower cheek, then to your upper part. He kissed each and every part of your face, gathering the scared tears you were finally letting free.

Your breath hiccupped as you finally let yourself feel afraid. That you might not make it out, that the power you had used killed people with families, that your body was drained and ready to give out. That, if you blinked for too long, no one assured you that Azriel would be breathing when you opened them again.

You rose your hand and closed it around his wrist. If you made it out, you would have matching scars, but that was the least of your worries. Your burns needed treatment, and you didn’t miss how his body went rigid under your touch. Still, he pulled away and looked at you in the eyes.

“Promise me it’ll be okay” you begged him, the sight of him blurry with tears. “Just one time”

“I promise it’ll be okay” he lied without hesitation, knowing he couldn’t make you that promise. Even if you made it out, he knew it wouldn’t be fine. “You promise me to hold on a little longer”

You fell quiet, blinking slowly. Could you promise him that, though? Could you gather strength to lie to him one more time? Just as you were, he could hear the sound of footsteps coming closer. You wouldn’t get up that time. Even if you tried, all you would gather was a brief flick of light. And he would try, you were certain, to get up, and maybe would hold them for a while.

Swallowing down, you nodded and whispered your promise.

Azriel was all you could feel and see for a moment. His hazel eyes, filled with worry and sorrow and guilt, so much more guilt that any person should carry. His soft freckles, that were covered by stains of blood. Dark locks of hair fell over his face, greasy and tangled, but they couldn’t cover the beauty of your mate.

He still held your face on the palm of his hand and you still gripped his wrist. If you had to die, you guessed, you didn’t mind doing it staring at him. And he must have thought the same, because his shoulders sagged in relief and his eyes softened.

His mouth moved, saying something. I love you seemed worthy of the moment, but you didn’t hear it. Only white noise and static. His smile dropped and his eyebrows scrunched when he repeated himself and you didn’t move.

You must had been worthy in any other life, because suddenly there were two beautiful copies of your mate in front of you, both of them equally worried. Before you blinked one last time, you saw Azriel’s face scrunching in horror, a kind hand making him step sideways.

Worried violet eyes were the last thing you remembered before blacking out.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!