Numb (Bucky X Reader)

Every Word - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 890 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Featuring: a lot of people Warnings: swearing, sick Requested by @lclb12 “You’re sick with the flu and no one wants to come near you except for Bucky. Bucky gets you everything you need, but the only thing you ever wanted was his love. One night you were half asleep when he tells you he’s in love with you. You had heard every word he said and you tell him you love him unconditionally.” Authors Note: sorry it’s a bit shorter i didn’t have much time to write this one.

Masterlist. Request List.

You had been in your bed for two days now. You only got out of bed when food was placed outside of your room, and when you had to use the bathroom. Which, the bathroom had been a “(Y/N) ONLY ZONE” until you got better.

You didn’t really know how you got the flu, but you did know that it sucked. No one wanted to even go near you in fear that they would catch it, and you could barely leave your bed.

Everyone just seemed to assume that it came from all the missions you’ve been taking on recently. You were pissed, nonetheless, you really just wanted to help the team out and take down the bad guys.

You also had a problem of zoning out and having major daydreams or flashbacks while being sick. You were only brought back to reality by your phone buzzing with texts.

From: “Man made of Iron” How are ya doing?

From: bird suit are you done being sick yet

From: Wanda: the awesome telekinetic Do you need anything? I can send it to your room.

Keep reading

The Biggest Fanboy (Pietro Maximoff Award)

—————————————————————————————
 Pairing:
 Peter Parker x Reader Winner:
 @hair-dye-or-nawh Warnings: None Notes: Here is the fourth award request (almost halfway through, yay!) After this one I think I might try and write another part to We Start Over and maybe some of my old requests. I just wanted to take this opportunity to say thank you for 3k followers and once again apologise for how little I’ve been posting. I have alot of stuff going on in my life (more mental than anything) and it’s just so mentally exhausting that I don’t have alot left to put into my writing. Anyway thankyou to everyone that has stuck by me and always enjoy! —————————————————————————————

Being the youngest Avenger definitely had its perks. Such as Tony making you all the tech you could possibly want just to make sure you were safe, and basically having a super soldier bodyguard. However, there was thing that sucked about being the only young member of team. It was incredibly lonely. Sure the rest of the team tried to include you whenever they could, but you were so much younger than them that you didn’t really have all that much in common. That was why when you heard of the spiderboy, you were intent on making him your friend. It would be great to have someone your own age that understood the whole superhero lifestyle, so you’d pretty much begged Tony for his address and decided to drop in on him the first chance you got.

Knocking on the apartment door, you were greeted with a face of a kind looking woman that you assumed to be his aunt. “Hello, Ms Parker. I’m Y/N, a friend of Peter’s.” You smiled innocently at the brunette woman, hoping she believed you. “Oh of course, can’t say Peter’s ever spoken about you before but come on in.” She smiled, opening the door for you to enter. Nodding, you stepped in to the small apartment. “Peter’s room is just upstairs and to the left.” She gestured with a smile. “Thankyou Ms Parker.” You smiled, heading up the small staircase and towards the newest Avenger’s room. Knocking twice you waited for a shout of confirmation that you could enter before pushing open the door.

What was inside was definitely not what you expected. Flickering your eyes over the walls you could see multiple pictures of the team, but the face that seemed to be covering most of the pale blue walls, was yours. “Sorry Aunt May, I’ll come and fix the washing machine in just a…” Peter trailed off eyes latching on to your awed expression. “Wait… you’re not Aunt May…” Peter stuttered. “You’re… you’re…” He gulped, watching as you stepped towards one of his posters, running your fingertips over the image of you in your mission outfit. “I’d introduce myself, but it seems that’s not needed.” You smiled, turning on the nervous looking boy sat at the desk. “Uh… no… I uh…” He stuttered, cheeks flaming red. “Well, for the sake of moving this conversation along…” You grinned, perching on the edge of his bed, “I’m Y/N, one of your new teammates, I just thought that since, y’know we’re the ‘babies’ of the team, that we should get to know each other.” You babbled, eyes still darting around the room. “Uh yeah… hi… I’m Peter.” He replied, standing up and shuffling around slightly before crossing his arms. “I know.” You grinned, patting the space next to you as you pulled your legs up and sat cross legged. “So Peter, when did you become my biggest fanboy?” You chuckled, jabbing him in the side slightly as he sat down. “I wouldn’t say that I was… I’m not…” He babbled, looking adorably flustered. “You know you’re cute when you’re embarrassed.” You smirked, enjoying the pink colouring that came to his cheeks, yeah you two were gonna get on just fine.

TLOU2 and the Stages of Grief

To begin, here’s a quick crash course into the 5 Stages of Grief. 

There are five stages of grief; Denial & Isolation, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. Although these are the identified stages, they are not experienced the same for everyone. People experience them occurring in different orders, experience each stage to different degrees, and in some cases people don’t experience all of the stages. Often times people in real life experience these stages without full completion due to how quickly the world moves and the responsibilities that society has put on an individual. Throughout the whole process, our own feelings and thoughts of mortality is brought up. But there is a common thread in each of the stages and that is Hope. While you may have lost someone you are still alive and there is hope that you will continue to live, or in some cases just survive.

Now that we’ve covered some basics to the 5 Stages of Grief, let’s really get into it in regards to The Last of Us Part II. There will be spoilers ahead.

Keep reading

things in 2017 » tv shows: sherlock (season 4) 

“P.S.: I know you two. And if I’m gone, I know what you could become, because I know who you really are; a junkie who solves crimes to get high, and the doctor who never came home from the war. Well, you listen to me. Who you really are, it doesn’t matter; it’s all about the legend. The stories, the adventures. There is a last refuge for the desperate, the unloved, the persecuted. There is a final court of appeal for everyone. When life gets too strange, too impossible, too frightening, there is always one last hope. When all else fails, there are two men sitting, arguing in a scruffy flat, like they’ve always been there and they always will. The best and wisest men I have ever known. My Baker Street Boys; Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson”

The Lie of Windhaven | Azriel x reader [Part 2]

The Lie of Windhaven [Masterlist] here!

Summary: Azriel has dragged her into a mess she now has to do her best to survive. People show their true colours, and others drop a name.

A/N: I did iiiit!! And we can all thank @bellaskhakhiskirt for the extra encouragement that had me finish this tonight haha. Thank you guys so so much for all your sweet comments on part 1!! I got a bit overwhelmed replying to everything, so just know that I read them all (sometimes multiple times a day) and they make me so happy! 🥹🫶

Word count: 4222

Warnings: language, canon typical violence and ✨misogyny✨, brief description of SA and physical abuse

-

Previously:

“I have the right to demand her hand,” Azriel said, and her brows twitched closer together at his choice of words.

“I beg your pardon?”

The right?

Devlon swivelled around, furious that Azriel hadn’t yet dropped the discussion.

Elas scoffed. “Oh yeah? And what right is that?”

Azriel’s eyes met hers then, and the determination she saw reflected within them had her heart drop to her stomach. She knew in that moment what he was planning to do, the lies he planned to weave.

“No,” she breathed again just as Azriel opened his mouth to doom them both.

“She’s my mate.”

And just like that, every head within hearing distance turned to look at her.

-

A beat of silence.

“No,” Devlon declared. “Absolutely not.”

Azriel held her gaze for a moment longer, as though willing her to play along, but she felt her insides boil with anger as he turned back to look at Devlon, his expression as collected as ever.

“Are you questioning the Cauldron?”

She knew what he was doing. The mating bond was held above all else—untouchable by any rules or previous alliances. If Azriel officially claimed her as his mate, no other male in the camp would dare touch her, and no engagement, betrothal or marriage would stand.

A fine plan in theory, only there was one problem.

It was a lie.

And to impersonate a mating bond …

Devlon had killed for far less.

The warlord’s attention still lay on her and she could see every last bit of his hatred burn bright as day in the black pits of his eyes.

“There’s no way she’s your mate,” Elas said, a deep crease between his brows as he, too, continued to look at her as though the answer would be found on her face. “She would not have accepted my proposal if she was.”

“She did not know,” Azriel said. “The bond only snapped in place for me when I saw her in the dining hall last night. It caught me off guard.”

“She cannot possibly be your mate,” Devlon said, his voice low and menacing, his eyes boring into hers.

“She is standing right here.”

Silence fell at her words. Silence so all-consuming, one could have heard a twig snap in the forest bordering on the camp’s north side.

Y/N regretted her words almost instantly, the look in Devlon’s eyes cold enough to kill, but part of her eased when she felt a presence in her back, tall enough to cast a long shadow. She didn’t need to turn around to know that it was Cassian. She could tell from Azriel’s lack of a reaction.

She hadn’t even noticed him rounding the courtyard from where he’d stood on the opposite end, but she was thankful for his presence, shielding her not only from some of the stares but also from Devlon’s immediate wrath.

“You want to be part of this conversation?” Devlon growled through barely parted teeth. “Fine. Be part of it. Come here, now.”

She did her best to maintain the slippery grip on her composure as she bridged the last remaining steps setting her apart from the three men. Cassian remained where he was, and she felt the distance grow like she was swimming further away from a safe shore and straight into shark infested waters.

Devlon never took his eyes off her, and when she stood close enough to their little group, she felt like she was shrinking beneath his calculating gaze.

“Did you know of this supposed bond?”

Her teeth clenched briefly, and in her mind, she cursed Azriel for dragging her—dragging them both into this situation.

“No, my lord.”

“And you accepted Elas’ proposal earlier today?”

“Yes, my lord.”

He hummed. “And this new … revelation,” he stated with a quick glance at Azriel. “You do not share the shadowsinger’s sentiments? You do not feel a mating bond?”

Her mouth clapped shut. What was she supposed to say to that? Of course she didn’t feel a bond. She didn’t feel it because it did not exist, but admitting to it would cost Azriel big time.

They wouldn’t kill him—he was too precious for that—but they’d punish him by punishing everyone he loved. And they’d start with Cassian.

He was powerful too, sure—powerful enough to receive seven Siphons of his own. But they didn’t adorn his armour yet, and he was neither a shadowsinger nor a future High Lord, which left him unprotected amongst his brothers.

“As of right now,” she began, her eyes flickering to Azriel for only a second. “No, my lord.”

“It did not yet snap in place for her,” Azriel said, and for the first time, a note of tension crept into his words. “Which means she cannot yet feel it. Surely, you’re aware of the technicalities, Devlon?”

“Don’t condescend to me, boy,” Devlon snapped. “I will have you whipped no matter how many shadows you wield.”

Silence settled once again, and after a long, tense pause, Devlon straightened his back, crossing his arms behind it.

“I want proof.”

Azriel remained quiet.

It was Elas who spoke next.

“You cannot mean to entertain this nonsense, my lord,” he said, his voice hard as he stared Azriel down. “She has agreed to marry me. I have her friends to bear witness.”

“Be that as it may, another has laid claim to her,” Devlon said, his mouth twisted as though every word tasted bitter on his tongue. “The mating bond must be honoured, no matter how … unfortunate a match. You will wait to wed her until I have something to either prove or disprove the existence of this bond.”

“What do you mean, proof?” Y/N said, hesitance in her words. “How would one go about proving a mating bond?”

The smile Devlon gave was cruel, and before she knew it, his hand had shot forward to wrap tightly around her arm, dragging her close enough for his breath to hit her face with the words he spoke next.

“It would do you good to remember your place, girl. You address me properly or I will have you stripped bare for a good lashing,” he growled low enough for his words to hum through her very bones. “Proof means proof. If this godsforsaken bond was real, you’d know how to prove it. For starters, our dear shadowsinger over here would feel everything you felt.” His eyes flickered to Azriel, though his grip remained bruising on her arm. “Perhaps we should test the theory right now?”

A blade flashed in his hand—one she hadn’t noticed him draw from the sheath by his hip.

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw ticked. “Cutting her will prove nothing.”

“Maybe not,” Devlon said, straightening where he stood, though his hand remained where it was. “But slitting her throat will do wonders to rid us of this little disturbance.”

“I leave for three days, and you start threatening to slit people’s throats, Devlon?” a new voice drawled, sounding almost bored.

Y/N’s eyes flickered to the side, and a wave of relief crashed over her at the sight of Rhysand standing next to Cassian. If there was one person who’d manage to get them all out of this unscathed, it was Rhys.

His wings were out, hands buried in the pockets of his pants, head tilted as he took in the scene before him. “I take it your news have not been received well, Azriel?”

The relief she felt dropped to her stomach like a stone.

Azriel remained silent, his attention resting on her.

“You knew of this?” Devlon’s eyes were ablaze as he stared at Rhys.

“Well, of course,” Rhysand said, sighing softly through his nose. “What part of ‘I can see into people’s minds’ has you baffled?”

A quiet snort sounded from the remaining crowd of onlookers, and Devlon’s face twisted with rage.

“I’m warning you now, boy,” he growled. “You might be the High Lord’s son, but he’s given me permission to treat you as I would any other soldier, so you watch your—”

“Fascinating,” Rhys drawled, picking a piece of lint from the cuff of his leathers. “But be that as it may, I can attest to the validity of this bond.”

She would throttle him.

Her eyes flickered back to Azriel and the calm gaze he kept on her.

She would throttle them both.

There was not the slightest hint of a doubt that somehow Azriel had managed to get Rhys on board with this moronic plan. Which meant that not only had he endangered her, but he’d also endangered his friends. Because if Rhys knew, she was willing to bet what little money she had that Cassian knew as well.

“He’s the shadowsinger’s friend,” Elas spat, features taut. “Of course he would say that.”

Devlon finally let go of her arm, though it was only so he could lift his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I want you all out of my sight.” He growled.

“But, my lord, I—”

“Now,” Devlon snapped, shooting Elas a look that had his mouth clap shut at once. “You will not wed her until I say so. I require proof I can trust.”

It was Azriel who spoke next. “And what would adequate proof entail if the word of a daemati does not suffice?”

Devlon looked at him for a long while then. As though contemplating whether to cut out his tongue for daring to speak.

“I shall have a high priestess give her assessment.”

Once again, the blood ran cold in her veins.

No one in the entirety of Prythian knew bonds quite as well as the priestesses did. They would be able to sniff out a lie from a mile away.

“I will send for one first thing tomorrow morning and until she arrives, neither one of you is to wed this one.” His mouth twisted with distaste as he threw her a last withering look before turning to address every Illyrian within earshot. “Now, if I have to repeat myself one more time, I will have you all running lapses until the sun rises tomorrow morning. Get out of my sight!”

Y/N had just turned to catch the wide eyes of Lissa and Malina, her heart pounding, when another hand found her arm. This time, however, it was with the gentle grip of long fingers curling around the back of her elbow.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” Cassian muttered in her ear, and before she knew it, her feet were rushing to catch up with his long strides as he headed straight for the hut at the edge of the camp she knew belonged to Rhysand’s mother.

-

Her eyes were ablaze as Azriel stepped through the door of the hut, her fists clenched by her sides. Cassian stood at the small kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression grim.

Her mouth opened and Azriel knew what to expect.

“How dare you,” she breathed, and his jaw clenched at her tone. “How dare you ruin this for me. He was my one choice, Azriel. My one option.”

“He was not—”

“He was!” she snapped, her voice gaining in volume, her brows pinched in rage. “And even if he wasn’t, he was who I chose. You took away my choice and in doing so you practically guaranteed my death. I never would have thought you to be so cruel.”

“Cruel?” Azriel gaped at her. “I am doing this to help you.”

“I never asked you to!” Her voice began to wobble now, her eyes growing glassy, though her cheeks remained dry. “In fact, I explicitly recall telling you that we were over.”

“So you expected me to sit back and watch him turn you into an empty shell? A womb to be filled?” Azriel’s voice was of calm disbelief, his mask carefully locked in place to hide the burning anger that threatened to swallow him whole.

“Well, now you get to watch Devlon slit my throat once the priestess tells him that this bond is a load of bullshit, so thank you for that.” She laughed without an ounce of joy. “I hope you’re happy with that outcome.”

“He won’t kill you.”

“He will. In case you didn’t notice, he almost killed me today.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“You are not my knight in shining armour just because I let you fuck me a couple times, Azriel,” she spat, the fury now bright as day in the depths of her eyes, and Azriel swallowed at the impact of her words.

Silence settled—silence thick enough it threatened to drown him—and as he stared at her, he could see it all. He saw the deeply rooted fear in her eyes, the anger he’d caused, the desperation in the face of a bleak future, and he took a step back.

“I know,” he spoke quietly.

“Do you?” She stared at him. “Because I don’t think you do, or you wouldn’t have gone and invented a fucking mating bond.”

When Azriel remained quiet, she rubbed angrily at the tear that had escaped her left eye to trail down her cheek at last.

“I need to go,” she muttered, walking around him in an arch as big as the room allowed to head for the door. “I need to speak to Elas. I need to apologise.”

Every part of him screamed to stop her from leaving. He didn’t want her anywhere near Elas and his rage, but he’d done enough for one day. She wouldn’t allow him to touch her right now, wouldn’t listen to his requests, and so he stepped aside and suppressed a flinch as the door fell closed behind her.

A few silent moments ticked by, and when Cassian spoke, his words rang loudly through the silent hut, though his tone was uncommonly gentle.

“Did you think this through, brother?”

A joyless smile twisted the corners of Azriel’s lips. “What do you think?”

-

“Elas, please,” she said, rushing to catch up with the Illyrian’s long strides as he headed for the hut he shared with three other warriors. “I swear I didn’t know Azriel was going to do that. I don’t know what’s gotten into him, I—”

The Illyrian scoffed. “A mating bond, apparently.”

“I didn’t know,” she repeated and hated the way her voice sounded as she did so. No part of her wanted to beg Elas for forgiveness when it was Azriel who’d dragged her into this mess.

She stumbled to a halt when Elas swung around, his eyes ablaze as he loomed over her.

“You didn’t know? Interesting,” he drawled in a tone so unmatching of the fury in his face. “But you are aware that you’ve been fucking him, yes?”

“I—” she broke off, her brows twitching closer together. “We had a … fling, yes. But it was over before I accepted your proposal.”

He stared at her, unblinking, and when her skin began to crawl, she curled her hands into fist by her sides, willing herself not to cower.

“I didn’t think it would matter,” she said matter-of-factly.

“It’s obvious that you didn’t think.” His voice dropped to a hum now, his upper lip curling in distaste. “Don’t assume for one second that I would have asked for your hand if I’d known that—”

“That what?” she hissed, her teeth clenched as she took a step closer, her anger getting the better of her. “That I have a sex life? May I ask how many people you’ve slept with, Elas?”

He moved before she could react, and his knuckles where sharp as he slapped her across the face with the back of his hand.

She gasped with the impact, her head swivelling to the side, her feet stumbling where she stood, the world around her suddenly swaying. He was on her then, gripping her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze before she could even think to collect herself, and her hand instinctively shot up to wrap around his wrist for stability. 

His nose was mere inches from hers, his next words a quiet hiss.

“That I’d be marrying a whore.” She felt his breath on her face, her jaw aching beneath the hard grip of his hand. But she held his gaze with quiet defiance. “I allowed you to keep your wings intact because I thought you knew where your priorities lie. I thought we had an agreement. We could have been good together. We could have been content.”

He took a deep breath through his nose and for a brief moment, she wondered whether he could smell the fear she so desperately tried to suppress.

“I shall still wed you once this nonsense is dealt with, but do not expect a marriage from me. You’ll do for carrying my offspring, but I have no desire to give a good life to another’s fuck toy.”

She felt her throat clog up, doing everything to will back the tears that threatened to shoot to her eyes.

“I was wrong about you,” she ground out through clenched teeth. “You’re just like the others. And I’d rather die than marry you.”

Elas hummed, and when the corners of his lips curled into a little smirk, her heart sank further.

“I’m guessing your chances of dying are pretty good once Devlon has proof that this bond is a scam—which we both know it is,” he said, the words almost sensual as they rolled off his tongue. “But either way, I staked my claim. I have your word, and I have witnesses to prove it. So in the unlikely event of your survival, you shall belong to me.” Lifting the hand he didn’t keep wrapped around her aching jaw, he brushed a strand of hair from her face, the gesture almost gentle. “And what fun I’ll have humiliating you as you have humiliated me.”

His eyes moved to her lips then and she could feel her bottom lip begin to wobble with the harshness of his words and the future they promised.

She noted the way he exhaled through his nose in a quiet scoff, and next thing she knew, horror coursed through her veins as he lowered his mouth to hers.

His fingers pressed deep into her skin, his grip crushing on the bones of her jaw, preventing her from backing away. And when his mouth covered hers and he pried her lips open for his tongue to lick deep into her mouth, she gave a choked sob.

She pulled on his wrist, her hands hitting his shoulders in an attempt to shove him off her, but she was too weak. She was powerless, as she’d never been allowed to train. And suddenly she realised why Illyrian males were so keen on keeping their women defenceless.

There was nothing gentle in Elas’ kiss; none of the passion she’d felt heating her blood whenever Azriel had kissed her. Elas was demanding—harsh in the way he claimed her mouth and unrelenting in his hold on her jaw.

He tilted her head back, forcing himself closer to her and his tongue deeper into her mouth. His teeth scraped harshly against her lips, and when he finally pulled back, she felt the sting of split skin.

The breath was tearing in and out of her lungs now, and immediately, she clenched her teeth hard enough to hear her jaw give a crunching groan.

Elas hummed again, tilting his head with an eyebrow raised in mockery. “Yes, you’ll certainly do.”

When he finally, finally let go of her, it was with a shove that had her falter where she stood.

Her eyes were burning now. But she wouldn’t cry. Not here, not in front of him.

Elas turned around, and as he headed towards his hut, he threw snide words over his shoulder.

“It’ll be interesting to find out what it is that has the shadowsinger so wrapped up that he’ll risk losing his life over a cunt.”

She stared after him, unable to move as she let his words sink in.

It was ironic, really. In his attempt to spare her from a future he thought as bad as it would get, Azriel had only managed to guarantee her a fate much worse.

It dawned on her then. That she’d spent the rest of her life in agony. She’d spent the rest of her immortal existence utterly miserable. At Elas’ mercy—assaulted, disrespected, alone. All he’d done just then had been a glimpse into the future that awaited her.

A sob tore through her—one she could neither stop nor muffle—and just when she was about to crumble entirely right then and there in the middle of the camp, gentle hands found her arm.

“Not here,” Malina spoke quietly. “Don’t let them see.”

A gentle tug on her arm had Y/N stumble along her friend’s side, until a familiar, dusty scent filled her nostrils.

The supply hut.

Perfect.

Her eyes flickered to the table she’d sat on last night and suddenly she felt the urge to laugh in the face of all the things that had gone wrong in less than twenty-four hours. It would have been hysterical, had it not been so … final.

It was Lissa who brushed loose hair from her face. Her big, round eyes were filled with concern, and at the wetness on her cheeks, Y/N realised that she hadn’t been laughing after all.

“He’s going to make my life a living hell,” she heard herself say, her voice hoarse, her tone dull. Despite the tears streaming down her face, she felt numb. Like her mind had been disconnected from her body.

“We saw,” Lissa spoke quietly, brushing her fingers through her friend’s hair in a soothing manner. “I never would have thought him to be so … vicious.”

Y/N scoffed weakly. Because hadn’t she known him to be a vicious fighter? She realised then that it had been naïve of her to assume he’d be any different when it came to his wife.

“You won’t end up with him,” Malina stated, and she sounded almost sure enough to be convincing. Almost.

“Please stop,” Y/N spoke softly. “I can’t take this irrational confidence from you too. It is futile.”

“Only if your bond to Azriel can be disproven, and the Cauldron never miss—”

“The bond does not exist.” A wave of exhaustion crashed into her as she lowered herself to the edge of the wooden table, lifting her palms to press the heels of her hands over her eyes. Her head was throbbing. She wanted to lie down. “Azriel made it up.”

Silence fell over the dusty little cabin. And it seemed to stretch on forever.

She didn’t want to lift her head, didn’t want to see the horror on her friends’ faces as they realised the true extent of her predicament.

“We’ll have to fake it, then.”

To everyone’s surprise, it was Lissa who’d spoken the words.

“You cannot fake a mating bond,” Y/N muttered.

“Oh, sure you can,” Malina said, and when Y/N lifted her gaze, she shrugged. “Or Azriel would not have attempted it. He’s smart, darling. Smarter than all of us. And he’s obviously trying to help you, so I’d suggest you follow his lead.”

“He went behind my back,” Y/N said, her forehead creasing. “And he ruined every plan I made for myself. For my life.”

“You despised those plans.”

“That doesn’t matter, he—”

“It does matter.” Malina sighed as she propped a hand on her hip. “Look, I get where you’re coming from. But I’m thinking you need to consider your current situation and set your priorities accordingly.”

Y/N lifted a brow. “What?”

“What I’m saying is you need to focus on getting through this first. You can be angry with Azriel later. What’s done is done. There’s no going back so you might as well go with it to try and save yourself instead of wasting time on holding a pointless grudge.”

“She’s right,” Lissa said tentatively, smoothing a warm palm down the length of Y/N’s back as she sank to the table next to her. “She could have said it a little nicer, but she’s right.”

Malina snorted.

“And besides, you only need to convince one person, how hard can that be?” Malina waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’ve always been convinced the priestesses fake it anyway.”

“There are only twelve, right?” Lissa asked.

“Yes, and Devlon sent for one he can trust to be impartial.” Malina scoffed. “You can say what you want about him but when it comes to the mating bond, he really doesn’t fuck around. He’ll have her flown in and all.”

That caught Y/N’s attention. Having a priestess flown in meant that she was too far to winnow.

“She doesn’t reside in the Night Court?.”

Malina tilted her head, a glint in her eyes. “You’re trying to steal his prized shadowsinger, of course he’s going to get someone that couldn’t have been bribed by Azriel or his brothers.”

Y/N lifted a brow at her friend. “You heard him say all that?”

“Oh, yeah,” Malina said, and a smirk stretched over her face. “You’d be surprised what they let you hear when they think you’re of next to no use to anyone.”

Y/N sighed through her nose and let her face sink back into her open palms, wincing at the tenderness of her jaw. She could feel the slight swelling of her cheekbone, a smudge of blood landing on her hand where she held it pressed to her lip.

Lissa’s interest seemed piqued at Malina’s words. “I thought most of the priestesses lived in the Night Court,” she said, curiosity in her tone. “Where is he flying her in from?”

“I forgot.” Malina waved her hand again. “Some super spiritual priestess temple. I heard him say that she’s their newest member. Ianthe, I think her name was.”

-

Taglist Part I:

@byyalady @tele86 @illyrianbitch @sleepylunarwolf @justrepostandlove @starriestarlight @tele86 @waytoomanyteenagefeels @ryekoo @azriel-shadowsingerr @amygdtjhddzvb @ohhellotherebumblebee @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @astarlitsoul @amysangel @fxckmiup @ruler-of-hades @whitewolfsbitch @threespacemonkeys @mell-bell @sillysillygoose444 @quiettuba @itsswritten @brujitafantomatico @badpvn @justrepostandlove @of-outerspace @bakananya @iamjimintrash @starseedsamurai @balsalmic-vinegar @secretlyhers @the-spine-of-the-world @lees-chaotic-brain @helloevilmuffins @cinnamonmelody @jediknightjana @acourtof-wingspan @nxgh1 @aactuaaltraash @marigold-morelli @thatsassyhufflepuff @darlingbravebelle @anxious-study @thisisew @that-one-little-soybean @brieflyclassymortal @isa1b2h3 @julesofvolterra @prettylittlewrites @i-am-infinite @thecraziestcrayon @spellbinding-snoozles

i will not ask you why you were creeping (in some sad way i already know)

this is part three to this azriel and his best friend fic :)

azriel x reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: mentions of bad family dynamics and childhood trauma, mentions of canon typical violence

summary: starfall has passed, but the revelations of the night keep her anxious and a little embarrassed. there's nothing like having a best friend to ease all your worries - until he goes on a mission, that is

a/n: here it is finally!! I hope you enjoy it and make sure to let me know what you think :) all feedback is welcome! if you want to be added to the taglist let me know here

“Oh, he did not say that!”

“I swear to the Mother, Az! And he looked so pompous too!” a rare laugh bubbled out of the shadowsinger’s lips. He was sitting up over the navy blue covers of his bed, almost doubled over, his stomach hurting from laughter.

“I cannot believe you kept this story from me for a full week” she giggled in response.

The pair of best friends were currently locked inside Azriel’s bedchambers, after she came running into his room about an hour earlier with one groaned out in exasperation explanation - “Cassian and Nesta,” she had practically growled out while throwing herself head first into his pillows “again! It’s the fifth time this week!”

The cause for her visit in his chambers may have been out of a need to escape the sounds that the mated pair made, but Azriel welcomed her with open arms and a big smile, as always. That was one thing about her best friend - there was always some form of smile on his face, each time he saw her.

It was special, that he reserved those moments for her only - and their other family members too - sweet, even.

“You got any other recent stories from your studio for me?” Azriel asked with a quirked eyebrow as he settled back against his bed, biting on one of the freshly baked cookies she had brought with her.

“Not really, you know. Starfall season is over so there’s not that many customers now” she had opened up a dressmaker studio a few decades earlier, despite Azriel’s insistence that she did not have to work, that Rhysand had enough money to support her.

But she had wanted to work.

She never had the chance to before and even though it initially came as another piece of defiance against her parents - she had a need for many of those when she first fled her hometown - it quickly became a great passion of hers.

Dresses were one of the few things from her old life that she did really love, despite how poorly she used to make them for the first few years. She’s pretty sure Rhysand had spent more money to keep it open than the shop actually made. He would never admit it to her though. Now, however, she was one of the most renowned dressmakers in Velaris.

She still pictured her parents' faces if they found out she was a working female now. This was one of the few things they couldn’t bring her down about.

Yes, it was outrageous that a highborn female like her chose to work - with her hands too - but she was successful at what she did. They could insult her about it all they liked, but they couldn’t take her skills away from her.

Sometimes it felt like a sole proof that she could do well in life without them, without their money and prospects and marriage and the golden cage she had spent her youth in.

Sometimes it felt like a lifeline to hold onto, when anxiety and guilt wrecked her guts.

She was still, so, so embarrassed about starfall. She woke up the morning after already dreading seeing Azriel again after he saw her fall apart like that.

Despite it not being the first time. Despite it likely not being the last time either.

But he acted as though nothing had happened - took her out to breakfast before helping her tidy up the studio for opening in a few days.

She knew that the good weeks now were like sunlight before the storm. She could feel the unease already brewing deep inside her. The two months mark would be here soon and- she didn’t even want to think about the mess that would follow.

Azriel knew. Of course he did.

He acted calmly, though, maybe so she could anchor herself to him, try and mirror his behaviour. He made sure she knew he was there for her, offering more long flights over the Velaris skyline than usual or bringing her new fruit flavoured pastries from a bakery down the street to her studio.

Only he could act like that and make it not feel like pity.

She didn’t know how to express gratitude, so she resolved to baking. Example: the cookies they were both currently snacking on.

She had just finished hers and now she lay flat on her stomach, playing with the shadows curling around her fingers.

“They’re so cute” Azriel visibly stopped in his tracks, the hand holding his cookie up to his mouth freezing

“Excuse me?” she glanced up at him

“Your shadows. They’re cute” her eyes momentarily gained focus after sensing Az’s startled reaction, a hint of sharp amusement awakening in them. He opened his mouth to argue, but before he could say anything, his shadows just about tripled in quantity. Curling and brushing around her whole body, twining around her fingers and lifting individual strands of her hair into the air.

Her eyes widened and she let out a giggle.

“Stop this. Right now.”

“I’m not even doing anything!”

“You know exactly what you’re doing” she burst out laughing at that, genuine joy shining off her eyes

“I’m not doing shit, it’s them!” and Azriel was shaking his head, nothing but fondness in his eyes as he looked at her, laying there in his sheets and blankets, catered to by his shadows. Something akin to a string pulled at his rib.

Eventually, Azriel spoke “Fine” he shrugged his shoulders and brought the cookie back up to his mouth to bite. t was intimate to see him so at ease. Laying in bed, posture and body fully relaxed shadows leisurely curling around the entirety of the room. It was vulnerable how safe they both were in each other’s presence.

“Fine?”

“You’re their favorite. Can’t argue with that” he said between chews.

She gasped, quirking up, legs bent and kicking in the air. “You really think so?” Azriel laughed softly.

“Of course I do”

She pursed her lips, and poked her cheek with her tongue in contemplation. Finally, she huffed “You’re making me blush so we’re changing the subject,” he was shaking his head again, smiling softly at her, arms bent behind his head, resting against the headboard.

“Any missions this week?”

“Yeah. One in the continent. Tomorrow” a bit of loaded silence followed, and then

“What? Really?” his eyes softened when he noticed how she visibly deflated. She stopped kicking her legs, the fingers playing with his shadows stilling their movement too.

“I just found out today, sweetheart. But it should only last one day”

“Yeah, okay then” she moved up the bed to sit next to him, moonlight reflecting against her nightgown “Promise you’ll be careful?”

Azriel could swear something even the Mother herself could not explain was happening to his heart.

His fingers clenched and unclenched as he fought the urge to do something. Gods, he was barely able to breathe when the sweet scent of her shampoo hit his nose and there she was kneeling next to him like it was nothing.

Green eyes wide, hopeful and waiting looking up at him and golden-brown curls cascading down her shoulders and over her breasts.

She was in his bed, covered in his scent, shadows and blankets, clad in nothing but a nightgown after bringing him godsdamned cookies to eat.

How was he expected to function properly?

Her full lips parted when he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Of course I promise, angel,” Azriel replied with a raspy voice. And with that, the night went on.

After a while, her movements started to become slower, sluggish even. Sleepy girl.

“Tired?” she only nodded.

He sometimes wondered whether the reason behind how often she became sleepy when next to him was because she felt safe.

Mother, he hoped it was.

The alternative was far more daunting and sent a spike of alarm through his mind - was she overworking herself at the studio? No, surely his shadows would have informed him of that.

“Want me to walk you to your room?” his heart clenched awaiting her response, before immediately warming up when she said:

“What, you won't let me sleep here? No sympathetic cuddle for your best friend?” her smile was sheepish as she already lowered herself onto the pillow he usually slept on.

Azriel chuckled, laying down next to her, bringing the covers and a wing to keep her ever chilly body warm.

“All the cuddles my best friend wants, she gets”

“Wake up,” there was a voice disturbing her sleep. Azriel’s voice. “Sweetheart. Wake up”

“Leave me alone”

A chuckle escaped Azriel’s lips as he crouched in front of his bed. He let her sleep in when he sneaked out of bed earlier to get ready for his mission.

Partially because he had wanted to let her sleep in, and partially because she turned into a demon whenever someone tried to wake her up.

“Come on, angel,” he brushed a hand down her hair. She was laying on her side, facing him, features relaxed.

A familiar feeling warmed his chest to see her like that. And he hated that he had to leave, that he couldn’t get under the covers next to her and-. He has work to do.

Azriel tried again in a soft, warm tone “Open your eyes”

The groan she let out was bordering on growling “Seriously Azriel if you don’t-”

“I have to go”

A bit of silence ensued, her brow furrowed and then she was groaning again, turning onto her back. “Your mission wouldn’t get ruined if you slept for an extra hour, for Mother’s sake”

He didn’t say anything, waiting for her to open her eyes.

After a few seconds she scooted closer to him, but stayed on the bed. She draped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder, barely awake.

Sleepy, grumpy girl.

The movement made him sway and spread out his wings to balance himself. Absent-mindedly, he buried his nose in her hair.

“Be careful. And come back to me quickly, alright?”

“Alright. I promise”

She slowly raised herself up onto her elbows, eyes lidded, still half asleep, movements slow. “M’ sorry if I was mean”

“You were actually quite nice. For your standards”

“Hmph”

“Go back to sleep. I’ll be back for dinner” before his sentence was out, she had already laid back on the bed and snuggled her face into his pillow.

“M-” she yawned, eyes drifting close “Mkay”

After sparing one lengthy glance at her soundly sleeping form in his sheets, Azriel was out the door to meet Rhysand who would give him some final instructions.

He would also give him shit for making him wait for the extra fifteen minutes that the spymaster spent trying to coax his best friend awake.

He wouldn’t pay it any mind.

The day at the studio was incredibly boring, as she had expected. The post-starfall lull came every year without fail.

At one point she had considered closing shop for the day, but working seemed to be good on her mind.

Working meant she didn’t worry about her parents, and about Azriel. Who hadn’t even told her what his mission was about. Or where exactly it was.

Was it because she had talked over him so much that he hadn’t even had the chance? Gods, she hoped not. And she hoped he wasn’t offended she fell asleep on him mid-conversation, again.

It kept happening and she wanted to stay awake for longer to spend more time with him, the Mother knew she did, but her eyes always closed on their own accord. Which was especially strange considering that for most of her youth, she had huge trouble with sleep.

Whether it was waking up in terror in the dead of night, or being unable to fall asleep at all - she had dreaded almost every nightfall back in her family estate. Even though it was the only time she could ever really be herself - unjudged and unguarded.

She shook her head - those years were well past her.

Well, she hoped so, at least.

The day passed quickly - she spent it starting up on some projects that she may or may not finish just in time for spring to arrive.

Except for when a few customers came in, the quiet of the shop had been filled with her soft humming. And a little bit of talking to herself.

Well, not entirely to herself. She spoke to the shadow that Azriel always left with her when he left on missions. Or the shadow stayed behind on its own whim, as her best friend never mentioned leaving it with her.

Either way, with Azriel away, it was the sole subject of her babbling. Up until afternoon, that is, when Elain Archeron came into the shop.

She was alerted with the presence of a new customer, courtesy of the bell hanging over the door.

“Just a second! I’ll be right there!” she squealed out from the backroom. She hadn’t expected any more customers today, especially so near closing.

“Oh, it’s alright!” came a soft voice from the main room of the shop “Take your time”

“Oh, hi Elain!” she said walking to greet her friend “What brings you here?”

“I was just running some errands and wanted to check up on you” if even Elain of all people resorted to this gentle handling and coddling her, then she didn’t even want to imagine what would go down on dinner tonight.

They all still talked about starfall, then.

She appreciated the worry, she really did, but frankly there was nothing for them to do. And she couldn’t ask a High Lord to send out a letter telling her father to frankly, fuck off. Even though he probably would, if it came to it. But she did not want to let someone else handle her life for her, ever again.

She would be fine. Even if dismissing the whole situation probably didn't prove that she could, in fact, fix all of her problems on her own.

The female must have noticed her lack of response and opened her mouth to say something, but she was quickly cut off “I’m fine, Elain, really” she told her friend with a tight lipped smile.

“Are you sure?” something about the look in the middle Archeron sister’s eyes told her she didn’t entirely believe her. Elain gripped both of her hands in hers and continued on “Because if you’re not-”

“I’m alright, really” she assured

“Well, if you say so” the female dipped her head sheepishly, words slow and unsure.

“Can we change the subject, please?” she walked toward the counter near the back of the studio “I have these new projects here, maybe you could take a look…”

The two females ended up taking more than just one look at the projects, as they were now, well over an hour later, sitting on the wooden floor of the shop, papers scattered around them.

Elain gasped as she looked at the time, saying she was supposed to meet with Lucien in a few minutes. She left quickly after complimenting her unfinished works.

She stood up from the floor, wiping her hands on the skirts of her dress. She had a bit of time for a general clean up before Cassian came to fly her to the house for family dinner.

She sighed out through her nose and fixed the ribbon holding half of her hair up. If she was perfectly honest with herself, she would say that she’d much rather hide in her bedroom all night than deal with more coddling from her family.

Maybe it was some long-ago built in shame for expressing vulnerability. She was supposed to sit pretty, quiet and pliant. What was scary was how sometimes, when she fell apart or was especially exhausted - that was a form she craved taking.

But she was alright now and it was ridiculous for her to require this much attention from the people around her.

As she went on with tidying up the studio, her mind wandered over to Azriel. She worried for him, as she always did, but she knew how experienced and seasoned he was. The mission wasn’t anything for him to even bat an eye over, she was sure.

And anyway, he was probably already on his way home.

Azriel did not yet appear to be on his way home. Her stomach churned as she squirmed in Cassian’s arms.

“What do you mean ‘he hasn’t reported to Rhys yet?’” she looked up at him, and wide eyes demanding explanation

“I’m sure he’s alright, seriously. I did not mean to worry you” Cassian replied with a light voice as he soared over the city. When she didn’t reply he looked down to find her still staring at him sternly, jaw clenched and eyes squinted. Uneasy in his arms. “If I knew this would be how you’d react, I’d never would have told you”

“Well that’s comforting, Cassian.” he bristled a bit, eyes softening at her worry.

“He probably just got held up somewhere. This has happened before, remember?” Cassian tried to reason “He usually comes home late”

“But he always reports it, no?”

Cassian sighed, adjusting his grip on her.

“I’m just worried, Cass”

“I know. But he’s fine, I’m sure of it”

Her worry had not eased one bit in the next half hour.

After immediately taking notice of Azriel’s absence at dinner, unease started to creep up her chest. It was possibly a bit unreasonable to get overly worried, this soon. This wasn’t the first time he was late from a mission.

But why hasn’t he reported back?

Everyone else at the table seemed to think exactly the same way Cassian did - that everything was fine. But she had a bad feeling about this.

She swore she could feel worry and anxiety in her chest as though someone had tied a string to her rib and actively pulled it. But with some more convincing from the inner circle, she chose to dismiss the worry for a little while.

If he didn’t get back when they were done eating, that’s when she would seriously start worrying.

“So, I heard you and Azriel are going on a trip to Summer Court soon?” Feyre asked in a light tone, a fair try at deflecting the conversation.

“What? Summer?” Cassian gasped at hearing the question. He looked at her, eyes wide with betrayal. “You guys know I can’t go!”

Nesta chuckled, patting her mate’s arm.

“You’ll live, big guy”

“Well,” she looked at Cassian, and smiled sheepishly “that’s because Az and I were planning on going alone”

Cassian just sat there, mouth hanging open, staring at her in disbelief. Nesta was fighting her smirk; Feyre, Elain and their respective mates were chuckling, while Mor was outright laughing in Cassian’s face.

“And you all knew about this?”

Silence, broken by a few giggles, engulfed the dining room of the House of Wind.

“Traitors” Cassian huffed, slumping back in his chair with his arms crossed.

And for a moment, a comforting lightness came over her. Her friends were all laughing, the evening was peaceful and Azriel surely would be home safe and sound soon.

That feeling lasted all but about ten seconds before a sharp voice cut through it like a knife.

“Well, it’s good to know you and Azriel will be gallivanting around another court while we will be left to deal with your family, once they come here” Amren spoke smoothly from her chair at the other end of the table, eyes sharp and focused.

The room was casted in a heavy silence.

Before she could open her mouth to say something, Rhysand was already shaking his head in disapproval. Violet eyes held warning in them as he spoke to the female. “I think that’s enough, Amren”

She scoffed. “What, you make a show of breaking down over this on Starfall and now Azriel is taking you away to have a vacation just when things will get dirty here?”

“I-” she stammered. A doe closed into a corner. “We haven’t decided on when we’re going-”

“Like that’s the issue here” there was a hint of disdain in Amren’s voice as she replied, before bringing her wine glass to her lips.

She looked down at her like she was a bug under her shoe.

This was strange, even for Amren - yes, they were never close friends, but their relationship was also never outright hostile like this. “What exactly is it that you’re planning to do when your father does come here, eventually?”

She didn’t say anything. Shame, so distinct that she could actually feel it cutting into her chest, burned her as she looked around the room.

Wide eyes confused the glances the rest of the inner circles were exchanging as hostile against her, when in reality they were meant against Amren. She felt her breathing become shallow, and more shame licked at her.

Stupid, foolish girl.

“That’s enough.” Rhysand said with finality, at which Amren smirked but sat back and looked away. Nesta glared at her.

She should be fine. She shouldn’t need this defense, all this coddling. She hated that about the matter of her parents so much - the subject left her feeling so defenseless.

Any thought of them was like twisting a knife that had been stabbed through her for her whole life.

The worst thing was that deep down, she knew Amren was right.

She had no plan, no idea what to do, and did in fact hope that her summer court vacation would overlap with her family’s visit. If you could even call it a visit.

The word invasion crossed her mind.

Gods, what a mess this was. She was.

And most of all, she felt stupid for wishing Azriel was here. She shouldn’t need anyone. She usually didn’t need anyone.

She shook her head, not wanting to ruin the evening for herself more. There were things to worry about, now that they were halfway through eating and Azriel was still not here.

With a picked up heart rate and shaky hands, she went on eating her meal. She didn’t look up from her plate once, so she didn’t see the worried glances her friends were exchanging.

Not like it would’ve been better on her mind if she had.

She has been pacing her best friend’s bedroom for half an hour now.

He should be here. Something is wrong, for sure.

More and more nightmarish scenarios passed through her mind as she ran her hands through her hair for the thousandth time.

Just when she was about to step out of the room to find Rhys or Cassian and Nesta, the door opened.

She stopped dead in her tracks as she watched the shadowsinger stumble into his bedroom. Her eyes zeroed in on the hand he was clutching at his stomach. Red stained his fingers.

Her breathing went in and out in short gasps and she didn’t notice the surprise on Azriel’s face when he saw her there.

Her presence alone was enough reason for happiness for Azriel to forget the pain shooting through his abdomen.

The sight of her, however, was not.

Her usually composed hairstyle was a mess, and when she moved to stabilize him when he stumbled in her direction, he noticed the bit through the skin on her fingertips. The look on her face didn’t help either.

She was scared. Worried.

“Are you alright?”

She stopped dead in her tracks, again, and then with a furrowed brow looked down at his abdomen, and then back to his face.

“You’re hurt” her voice was strained, heavy

“I’ll be fine” he went to go inside his room, and she caught him when he almost fell “Just need to-” he gasped “Lay down”

“No, Az, you need help,” she directed him into the bathroom instead and led him to sit on the closed toilet lid. “Here, I’ll get Rhys to call Madja”

“No”

She gave him a stern look. Sweet, caring girl. “Azriel.”

“I can patch myself up,” he laid back against the wall “No healers. And I’ll be fine s’long as you’re here, angel. Been thinking about you all day” he said with closed eyes.

Gods, he must be delirious from the bloodlost, she thought.

If he won’t see Madja she’ll have to heal him herself. A bunch of shadows handed her a medic kit.

Time was a blur as she set everything out and went to start stopping the bleeding and healing the cut. She knelt before Azriel, movements quick, but precise. Her brow was furrowed with concentration, but worry, too.

Why hadn’t he let anyone know that he was hurt? What has happened?

Azriel hissed in pain as she disinfected the already healing wound. He would be fine, she exhaled in relief.

“Sorry,” she grimaced, looking up at him. “I’m almost done”

Azriel looked down at her through lidded eyes, a small smile donning his lips.

After a moment, when he still wouldn’t look away, she continued on her work with pink-tinted cheeks. Azriel’s stupid smile widened.

He could get stabbed everyday if it meant she would take care of him.

Soon, she was done and helped him to bed.

With assistance from his shadows, she had managed to change him into sleeping clothes. The wound was almost healed already, but she still bandaged it up, just in case.

She exhaled for what felt like the first time in hours. Gods, she knew something was wrong. Still, something inside her eased at having him back at her side, even if hurt. At least this way she could personally make sure he would be taken care of.

And she had to admit to herself, as selfish as it was, she was eternally glad to have him here after that cauldron damned dinner. A feeling of safety came back to her chest like a puzzle piece being set in place.

Now that he wasn’t actively losing blood, Azriel could think a little straighter. He sat against his pillows as she fluffed them up for him, brow still furrowed with worry. He lifted a finger to smooth the lines of her forehead.

“You should be better soon, Az. How do you feel?” she gripped his forearm in her hand. Her wide eyes bored into his hazel ones.

“I’m alright”

She let out a sigh in relief that he was at least feeling better. “I’ll tell Cassian that you won’t come to training and I’ll go to Madja for some tonics for you first thing in the morning. I also read somewhere that-”

“Sweetheart” he interrupted her gently “I’m alright, really. No need to do any of those things”

“No, Az, you’re not training tomorrow morning. No way” he straightened up a little when he saw the seriousness in her eyes. The worry, the stress. Gods, she must have really worked herself up over this.

“Alright, okay. I’m not training tomorrow” he murmured gently, reaching up to tuck away a strand of her hair that fell out of the meddled up hairstyle.

She breathed out, nodding.

Sweet girl.

There was an aspect of vulnerability to their relationship that made it quite different from any other ones in their lives.

For example, Azriel was the only one who knew the true details of her past. Of why she acted the way she did when the subject came up, and he knew how to handle her when she got soft and sensitive about it too. And she let him. Only him.

It went the other way around as well.

She knew everything about his childhood and why now so often he kept to the corners and the shadows.

Why he sometimes felt as if he should not touch her with his bare hands. And she knew how to coax out his soft side, too. In fact, after a while it started coming out around her against his own will. And after a while, he started to love it, how safe he felt around her.

But there were corners of his mind that Azriel was still too wary to let even her into. Corners that he visited in his nightmares and in his darkest moments, but ones that somehow felt all too powerful over him.

That’s why when a heavy silence encapsulated Azriel’s darkened bedroom, when the air became heavy and both their breathing shallow, when the pair realized just how close they are to each other and she looked at him wide eyed, so expectantly, as if something groundbreaking were about to happen, lips already opening for him- He pulled away.

That was why he started some meaningless conversation, trying to ignore the way her face fell when he sat back, further away from her.

That was why he hated himself a little more than on his worst days as he told her minor details of the beginning of his mission, eyes not missing the water lining her eyes.

He swore, his shadows had never scolded him as much in his entire life as in that moment. And they were right to.

The conversation went on until Azriel succumbed to the tiredness of being wounded and fell asleep. She watched his breathing even out, and then stared at him for a little while more.

Then, she debated going back to her room to sleep, but quickly rejected that idea. What if something happened to his wound while he was asleep? No, she should stay. But it also felt wrong to lay next to him after he-

No, she must have misinterpreted the situation. Azriel would never try to-

Right?

She tried to dismiss the thoughts from her mind.

Gods, what was wrong with her?

She laid down in an armchair she had dragged to the side of his bed. Her best friend was hurt, and here she was thinking about kissing him. About how she wanted to but-. This is not the time and place.

Sleep wouldn’t claim her for a long time, so she resorted to sitting there and counting her best friend’s breaths. After a while, their steady rhythm pulled her eyelids to close.

The room was still dark when Azriel opened his eyes. Moonlight streamed in through the opened curtains.

Azriel hissed as he turned around. A sharp pain pulled at this stomach and he looked down to see bandages wrapped around his torso. The wound must not have fully healed yet.

His eyes took in his surroundings and the first thing he noticed was that the armchair pulled up to his bedside.

And the person in it.

With a furrowed brow Azriel took in his best friend, still dressed in her work dress, curled in the chair in a position that must have been uncomfortable to fall asleep in.

What was she doing? Why hadn’t she laid down next to him? Possibilities passed through his mind, and finally he landed on the most probable one - that she wanted to watch him while he slept without disturbing him.

He shook his head as he started getting up. Selfless girl.

Too selfless for her own good, if it meant she would have to deal with back or neck pain in the morning.

But her care was a sweet feeling that even after decades of knowing her felt strange to Azriel. Any other member of his family would’ve known he could patch himself up and not worry themselves into madness about one singular stab wound that was nothing new for him.

Because he would’ve been fine. He had no doubt that if something actually life threatening were to happen to him, his family would take care of him.

It was a sweet, strange feeling that she would care over things he discarded as insignificant. That anyone would ever enjoy taking care of him, and willingly take time out of their day to do so.

He breathed out through his nose as he reached down to scoop her into his arms.

He hoped she wouldn’t wake, if only because she would scold him from carrying her when wounded.

And as he laid her on his bed, he thought about how there was one part of her he would probably never understand.

That unfiltered, unprecedented care she had for him. He knew he reciprocated it, that it went both ways, but somehow her care towards him seemed greater.

Maybe it was because he was harder to love. There were many more ugly sides to him that she frankly lacked.

Maybe because sometimes when he touched her he could feel that ugliness actually seep into her skin.

By the Mother, if he were any less of a selfish male he would’ve stopped this a long time ago. But neither did he have the honour to make her aware of his darkness, as cheap as that may sound, nor did he have the guts to make her his fully.

He couldn’t bear to taint her. Not as he looked at her face pressed into his pillow. Not as he thought about how soft her skin was under his fingertips. And certainly not as he thought about the endless streams of tears she let out as she seeked comfort and safety in him because of how badly she was treated by the people meant to love her.

She entrusted herself to him and he was to ruin her with himself, now?

He ran a hand through her hair as he felt his own hatred for himself run deeper and deeper.

Sometimes, in his worst nightmares, he saw something horrible happening to her. Such a tragic incident would make her his match. In his worst nightmares, she always knew that it was all his fault, and still decided to stay. Putting herself on a clear path to destruction, for him.

And, truth be told, he didn’t know what to make of it. What to do. This was one of the only areas in his life, where Azriel felt stuck.

He was hers, for eternity and he has known that for a very long time. But there was a part of him that couldn’t let her do that to herself. That couldn’t let her accept the curse of loving him.

Could he protect her from himself? Did he want to?

He used to think that he could accept this, whatever they had. Whatever form of friendship or relationship she would offer, he would grab handfuls of.

Now, however, he knew there was a problem that made his chest tighten, heart rate pick up and scarred hands clench and unclench when in close distance to her.

The impatience that grew simmering hot in Azriel, waiting to spill over.

taglist: @blonde-bansheee @k-homosapien @azysmate @brekkershadowsinger

if you want to be added, let me know here

An Homage to Game of Thrones

In the words of the artist Kilian Schönberger:

“Game of Thrones is one of my favorite TV series. I like the quality of the camera work and the fact that the produces have searched inspiring places round the globe for the production design. Places that breath the spirit of the past - real locations combined with some CGI to create a medieval fantasy world. I recognized locations in Iceland, Scotland, Spain, Croatia and many other countries throughout the different seasons of GoT.  The only thing of "Game of Thrones” that’s missing nowadays at first glance are the epic landscapes since Central Europe is densely populated. Nonetheless there are remote wilderness-like areas left that pour on the charm of the series. So I continued my search for the mystical and magic locations in Germany and the surrounding countries and created this homage to the awesome series “Game of Thrones”. 

Check out previous features of Kilian Schönberger’s work following the links:

Brothers Grimms’ Homeland

Braveheart’s Legacy

Hallebros Forest

Brothers Grimm’s Fabulous Germany

Images and text via

After All This Time Pt.2

Requested?: Yes.

 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky and the reader dated in the 40′s, and after Bucky’s death she ends up getting iced with Cap, and becomes an Avenger. Bucky then finds out the reader is alive.

Warnings: Civil War spoilers (maybe??) Language.

Word count: 1,455

A/N: FINALLY. I’m so sorry this took forever. I promise I’ll try to update the next part sooner. I know this is nothing, but I think shit is gonna start to go down next chapter. Make sure to follow if you liked this and wanna know when I update. Also, gif isn’t mine, all credit goes to owner.

My Masterlist 

Feel free to request anything by sending an ask to my inbox! (Please check if requests are still open before requesting!)

Part 1

After All This Time

Ever since Bucky’s death sleep had become your worst enemy. It was as if your body didn’t want you to sleep, and even when it did, your mind tormented you with horrible nightmares, all about Bucky’s death.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?” You called out into the darkness. On nights like this when you had no company you entertained yourself by talking to the computerized A.I.

“Yes, Ms. Y/N?” The robotic lady-like voice responded.

You closed your eyes, clutching the sheets to your chest. “Do you think I’ll ever see Bucky again?”

Keep reading

For anon…enjoy!

“Alright Lila, just hold it steady now,” Clint spoke gently to his daughter.

The young girl nodded as she held the beginner’s quiver with one arrow notched. A target stood opposite of her just a few yards ahead. Lila took a deep breath before letting the arrow soar. The tip sank a little to the left of the bullseye. Clint beamed.

“That’s a great shot, kid,” he cheered, “Getting better everyday.” “Really daddy?” she asked with wide eyes. He smirked and kissed her head. “Really, princess. Cooper, your turn.”

The slightly older boy stepped up next to his father and sister. Clint smiled before kneeling in front of his son. He gently grabbed the boy’s face, a hand on each side.

“Remember, relaxing is a part of it too, okay?” His son nodded. “You’ll do great.”

Clint stood up and took a step back. Lila held one of his hands as she watched her older brother raise the bow. Cooper kept his eye on the target just a bit farther away than his sister’s. Concentrating, he let the arrow fly, hitting the bullseye. His face broke into a grin as Clint began to laugh.

“You did it, buddy! You hit the bullseye,” Clint cheered, “This calls for some ice cream, just for you Coop.”

Clint continued to ramble on about the mark as the trio headed toward the house. Cooper and Lila were beaming, loving the time they were spending with their dad.

Want to Request? : Submit Here

Tati//P.M

//Tati= Daddy//

//Dragostea Mea= My Love\

//printesa= Princess\

//Voi sparge-o= I’ll break it down\

//Sunt însărcinată= I’m pregnant\

~The reader finds out she’s pregnant with Pietro’s baby before the fight with Ultron~

(A/N: Let’s all imagine Pietro and Wanda both lived in the tower long before the battle to keep this imagine some what realistic)

(Disclaimer: In this Pietro and The reader are speaking Romanian because i took inspiration from some other Pietro imagines and a lot of them were using Romanian, i also think the language is beautiful. I don’t speak Romanian so for the sake of this imagine i used google translate so if some of the words don’t actually translate well, i apologize) 

Warnings: light swearing, vomit, sadness

word count: 1, 676

4 weeks. 4 weeks since the day mother nature should have given you her monthly gift, usually you would brush it off as stress or just the fact that your period was naturally irregular but with the agonizing back ache and headaches you were becoming slightly suspicious. Your mind slowly drifted to Pietro and how your relationship still hadn’t been clarified or shared to the group, were you even in a relationship or just friends with benefits..amazing benefits. You slowly shuffled out of bed, quickly swallowing an aspirin from your night stand that had become your best friend over the past week. Just as the pill slipped down your throat a violent urge to vomit ripped through you as you bolted to the en suit lurching over the toilet as you emptied the contents of your stomach. Groans left your lips as the vile taste settled in your mouth, this is all you needed to confirm your suspicions..well this and a pregnancy test.

Keep reading