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lunarxcity · 3 days ago

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Be Careful What you Wish for - part i

Azriel x Inner Circle!Reader

When you begin to grow tired of constantly being surrounded by so many happy couples and dealing with a one-sided affection from the shadowsinger, you catch a suriel and it insinuates that Rhys is your mate. In light of this information you make a wish that completely flips your world(quite literally). Will you go back home or is this new world everything you dreamed of?

Wc: 7,803 ao3

There are many ways to catch a suriel. There are a slew of traps, enchantments, and magical objects on the market that all claim the ability to ensnare the elusive creature for what is more powerful than truth?

While many have tried, very few succeed and those who have paradoxically did not have too sacrifice such strenuous efforts for their moment alone with the magical creature for it is said a suriel catches you as much as you catch them.

From this finding, rumours had begun to spread that a Suriel is only caught when it wants to be for their is nothing more dangerous than the truth. They are more powerful than high lords and oracles because if there is one thing in this world that has power it would be information and the Suriel is a never ending fountain of it.

You remind yourself of this as you trudge deeper into the evergreen forests on the outskirts of the Night Court in pursuit of the mythical being.

For you needed answers and unlike those who have come to these woods, weapons pointed and ready to strike their bloodthirst bordering insanity, you believe that your intentions were pure and the Suriel would see that.

You have been working at the Night Court for hundreds of years since you escaped the Court of Nightmares with your childhood best friend Mor.

You adored each member of the Inner Circle profoundly, but you had always been closest to Mor. After all you have gone through the bests and worsts with one another and that's a bond that once forged cannot easily be broken.

Second to Mor is the shadowsinger. You two were unnaturally quick friends, which had surprised everyone, including yourself. While Azriel's tall walls and prickly nature made him accustomed to the adverse initial reactions he's used to receiving, you had showed him a compassion and care that he had not been used to.

You enjoyed each other's presence which then led to you guys actually talking, which is something Azriel doesn't sincerly do much. You discover that beneath the mask of the shadowsinger, Azriel does possess emotions like a normal person.

A rustle in the leaves snaps you out of your thoughts. You whip your head around.

There.

You dart towards the fleeting figure, whispy shadows and tedrils of black cloak emanate off it's figure. You feel it in your gut.

It's a real life Suriel.

You run towards it, leaving reason and your senses behind, driven by a desperation for truth. For answers. For this was a matter of life and death and you had become rather tired of losing people.

So you run, continuing to chase the figure into the depths of the forest. That's until you trip over a stray branch.

You feel the blood soaking your pants before you register the sharp pain in your knee. You don't have to look to know that there's a gash there now.

You're on the ground in what looks like to be a clearing in the forest. The trees form an unobstructed circle around a wall of shimmering crystal.

The sun shone down on this wall, amplifying the iridescent sheen of the purple and ivory coloured crystal.

You feel it before you see it. The hairs on the back of your neck prick up and the air suddenly feels heavier.

Suddenly, a voice as powerful as the cosmos and as ancient as the very dust of this world speaks to you.

"For what reason do you disturb me? I thought we made our disdain for your kind clear as day."

You feel a whoosh of air as the Suriel hovers over so it's directly in front of you. All bones and a malicious kind of magic, the Suriel is a legend of it's known. While the truth may not be evil in nature, it has the potential to unravel the very threads of all that we know.

"I had a vision. I need clarity if you are willing to offer it. We can discuss payment if needed, you will find I am very well connected."

Your mind floats back to the dark room. The feelings of despair and helplessness. A lingering suspicion that you already met your mate and hadn't known it.

"You are the first being I have seen in a long time that has not pointed a weapon at me." The Suriel comes closer, but this time you don't fear it.

"Daughter of Night, I will oblige your request. I only ask that after all is revealed that you may return to me so we may discuss your payment for you have nothing to offer me now."

You look up at the Suriel and nod your head.

"I oblige to your conditions."

The Suriel grins at your response and worry blooms in your chest. What does the Suriel know that you don't to be so glad with this deal?

You get ready to divulge in the dream you had. The feelings of restlessness in your chest. The bleeding of dreams and feelings that weren't yours.

"So I hear you have been having visions of your mate."

You go still. This bastard-

"Ah yes your mate, a lord of Night and commander of the darkness. One of the fiercest in the Night Court your life will not be easy as his mate, but it will be rewarding. He's nearer than you think, but there is a major obstacle in your way."

You begin to go over the Suriel's words. Lord of Night? No it can't be. Rhysand is already mated... but that would be a major obstacle.

A sinking feeling is suddenly present in your stomach. You think you're going to be sick.

"Your high lord is aware of your mating bond."

You feel the world slow to a stop. After all these years? Rhys? Who you thought of as a brother. Rhys? Who had been your close friend and confidant? Who knew of the mating bond and hadn't told you.

You begin to wonder, when Feyre turned into fae did it alter the mating bond that was supposed to be yours? Is she living the life you are meant to have?

"I know the look very well. Everyone always wants the truth until they learn that reality is not as kind as their hopes and wishes." The Suriel responds.

"Speaking of wishes..." You could almost hear the Suriel grinning underneath it's large black cloak.

Suriel's are trickster spirits, it's in their nature to yearn for chaos. They don't do it out of maliciousness, but rather for their own sense of entertainment.

They are deeply philosophical and love to make you jump through hoops to get the true conclusion.

You try to keep this in mind as you hang on to this Suriel's every word.

"It is said that the magical properties of the Crystal behind me can sometimes have the power to grant wishes. It's made of the same magic that keeps a Suriel's life force going as long as it does and your wish can only be granted if a Suriel allows it."

Suddenly a tendril of shadow snakes around your knee which is still gushing blood. You hear the beats of wings.

"It seems your mate is coming for you. I will see you sooner than you think."

Suddenly the Suriel is off, disappearing into the wind.

You hear rustling in the bushes behind you and see a flash of blue siphons fly overhead going into the direction of the Suriel.

You turn around to the rustling and see none other than Rhys emerging from the bushes.

"Hey, you're alright. I'm going to tell Az and Cas that I found you."

Your mate. Your bastard of a mate who had betrayed you. Who still knows about the reality of your mating bond.

"We should get you to Madja. Can you get up?"

The cut is a lot deeper than you initially thought. It would definitely need stitches.

Before you could respond to Rhys your hit with a gust of air from the landing of both Azriel and Cassian.

Cassian looks to Rhys and informs him, "The perimeter is secure no sight of the Suriel."

Azriel's eyes are on you, betraying his neutral face with the slight worry you can see shining in the hazel, "Are you alright?"

He immediately kneels down next to you and does a complete scan of your body for any other injuries. His shadow assists him swirling up and down your body and then going directly to his ear to whisper something to him.

He then does something that shocks you. He rips off the cuff on his bicep that houses one of his siphons, and underneath is a strip of cloth. A shadowsinger always has to be one step ahead of death for it will always try to find him when he is least expecting it.

He wraps does to wrap the cloth against your knee. He stops and looks up at you, his eyes asking for your permission. You give him a nod and he begins to wrap it around your wounded knee.

"I'm going to winnow her to Madja through my shadows, the magic is weird in this part of the forest it's the quickest way."

Rhys and Cassian nod.

Rhys looks to you, "Update me on how you are feeling and when you're feeling better, we can discuss later why you were in a forest that's known for its danger."

You're immediately swept into Azriel's arms and enveloped in a swarm of shadows.

As the shadows begun to block out the outside world you turn your head to where the Suriel had stood, backed by the crystaline wall, only to see that it was no longer there. Where the wall had been was just more forest.

The world goes dark and you become one with the shadows as Azriel sweeps you away.

Madja quickly works on getting you patched up and this was not the first time by any means she had to stitch you back together. She threads the needle through your skin while muttering to herself about the carelessness of the Inner Circle and how one day she would pack her bags and leave you all for the Day Court.

You couldn't blamer the head healer of the Night Court has seen a lot of things in her time. If she wanted to go and leave Rhys for Helion and you might ask her to take you with her.

Madja gives you a smile like she could read your thoughts. It wasn't a normal Madja smile, but rather a mischievous fox like smile you would have never expected to see the older lady bear.

She looks and you and then looks to Azriel who had been silently sitting in the chair next to you the entire time.

"Shadowsinger sitting there and brooding isn't going to help anyone. If you want to provide her company, maybe try holding her hand?"

She was no better than a petulant child making fun of their friend for having a crush, but you and Azriel weren't children and there was no crush to be found here.

You scoff. "He doesn't need to do that. I can handle it I've gotten stitches before."

You turn to look at Azriel expecting him to back you up but you're met with an outstretched hand.

He shrugs. "Doctors orders."

"Seriously?" You reply, confused by his behaviour.

"Physical contact is known to reduce pain."

Why was Azriel entertaining Madja's antics? You sigh and put your hand into his much larger one.

Scars lined his skin, you had always wondered what had caused them but never had the courage to ask. You didn't want to make him uncomfortable or reopen old wounds.

His grip was firm, but gentle in a way a reliable constant in the way you knew him to be. There is something about Azriel that calms the storm in you. His presence is a comfort that you can never get enough of.

You look at your intertwined hands, and one of the shadows, likely finding this whole ordeal amusing. Azriel gives his shadow a death glare but it only encourages it and the little shadow starts swirling excitedly around your hands.

"And done." Madja says while snipping the remaining thread.

You look down to your leg and see that your wound had been fully stitched together. How didn't you feel the needle go in?

You look back to Azriel, confusion written across your features and he gives you a smug look that's clearly saying I told you so.

The moment is interrupted by Rhys barging into the room. His quick footsteps striding towards you.

"Goody, now that you're feeling better, you can tell me why you were trying to catch a Suriel." He clasps his hands together in anticipation.

The man who was meant to be your mate. A good friend of yours whom you were supposed to spend eternity with. You had almost forgotten about that little revelation earlier.

"I had questions that needed to be answered." Your response is dry but adequate.

"If they were questions about this court you should have just come to me."

"They were... personal questions." You hope this would make him give up, but it's Rhys.

"What kind of personal questions? Surely not so personal you wouldn't tell your family."

This is the side of Rhys you never liked. When he would switch from your friend to your boss.

"The kind that I don't need to share with you. It isn't anything to do with the Courts or any matters of security so what's the big deal? Feyre went and trapped the Suriel twice and no one said anything of it."

You're annoyance is apparent to the spymaster who is now on edge eyes darting back and forth between the two of you.

"Feyre was a hunter she could fend for herself but you-"

"But I what? I also caught a Suriel on my own. Just because you don't believe in me doesn't mean I'm not accomplished. I don't need your approval about what I can or can't do with my life."

You storm off from the med bay, slamming the door behind you leaving the high lord in your wake. Leaving your mate behind.

You were done with everyone and everything. You blew up at your mate who was already mated to someone else, tripped on a branch, and offended a being that's likely as old as the bones of this world.

You winnowed to your room only to see Azriel sitting there waiting for you.

Why is it when you were always at your worst, Azriel was right there.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.

"If you're here for Rhys, I don't want to hear it." You tiredly trudge over to your bed and lie down.

He comes over and lies down right next to you. "No I'm here for you. I wanted to make sure you were alright."

You sigh and let out a defeated laugh. "Do I look alright?"

He turns his head to look at you, "You've looked...better?"

You burst out laughing. Everyone thinks that Cassian is the comedian, but Azriel had that dry humor that was effortlessly funny.

"I'm sorry, I was always told to refrain from saying anything bad about a woman's appearance, but I didn't want to lie to you." He quickly says, trying to take it back.

"Oh Azriel ever the gentleman." You say sarcastically while holding his hand in faux comfort.

His eyes immediately darted from your face to your now joined hands back to your face.

"Unlike the other heathens in this court I do try to be one."

You are almost crying of laughter at this point. "Heathens? Who says that. By the mother Azriel we need to get you to talk to some women."

Those words left a sour taste in your mouth and you didn't know why. Azriel deserves to be happy with someone, but you just couldn't picture the shadowsinger with anyone. You didn't even want to try, the idea of it left a pit in your stomach.

"I prefer to stay where I am." Azriel calmly responds.

"In the shadows? Does it ever get lonely there all by yourself?" You try to let your curiosity be an anchor to keep you awake, but lying down on your bed with Azriel's thumb stroking your hand was beckoning you into the realm of sleep.

He pauses for a moment. Trying to think of a proper answer to your question.

"The shadows are not cold and brash, like most think, they are soft and comforting and make for good companions. I'm not by myself as long as you're around with me."

He takes a long, drawn-out breath. "That reminds me, I have something to tell you-"

He's cut short by the sound of your deep breathing and by the slow, steady rise and fall of your chest you are fast asleep.

"Every time." He mutters.

At the sound of his voice, you turn around in your sleep and bury yourself into his arm.

He looks up and asks the Mother to help him. She smiles down at him, a silent promise that one day she would grant his wish.

He tries to outrun sleep for as long as he can, not knowing if he will ever be in this position with you again.

Sleep finally catches him when he starts listening to your heartbeat, wondering if would ever beat for him the way his heart does for you.

You wake up cold and alone. Azriel must have left before you had fallen asleep.

You finally had time to process everything, in your first moments alone, everything had hit you all at once. The realisation of finding and losing your mate all at the same time.

You don't even know why you were devastated you don't even have feelings for Rhys, but the feeling of having something that was meant to be yours taken away from you without you even knowing it was devastating.

For you had always struggled with feelings of worthlessness. You had watched all of those around you fall in love and get married, do whatever their hearts had desires, all while you had been alone tethered to the same job for centuries.

While Azriel's affections had been one-sided for Mor, at least he had the opportunity to feel something. All you have known is nothingness and it seems like that will be all you would ever know. For the cauldron decided that there would be no one for you in this lifetime.

You have yearned before, but it was not the yearning of lovers but rather the yearning of the dreamers. The ones who dream of a love so great that it will fulfill all the stories they have read and justify the abstinence of openness for so long.

In the soft light of daybreak you realise you have been played for a fool this entire time for what was a mate, if not a scam? Why should a force other than yourself tether you to another being for all eternity?

You don't want to deal with this. You can't for you deserve better than some half assed mating bond.

You were desperate and in your distress you did the only thing your addled mind could think of in the moment.

You winnowed back to the forest. Wherever that wall was, you would find it and wish for a new mate.

You land in the forest with a thud and look up to see the Suriel looking at you expectantly. It had been waiting for your return.

"It took you long enough, oh, young one." In that same ancient voice that sends shivers down your spine.

You take a breath. "So you know why I am back then?"

The Suriel gives you a smile that is anything but warm. "Any wish your heart desires if you decide to pay the price."

Fae were not generous creatures, especially trickster spirits; magic like this always has a hefty price.

"It's not much, dear, for I was young and misguided once. I've made my mistakes and I see myself in you, so I will take pity on you." You try not to believe a word that comes out the Suriel's mouth.

"One night of your life. I get your assistance with anything I would like for one night and you cannot refuse me."

You're about to interject worried for your future safety.

"I vow that it will not cause you harm or be cruel in nature." Both of those statements are extremely subjective, but this is about the best you will get from a Suriel.

"Deal." The Suriel begins to grin and raises it's hands, the ground rumbles in response and the Crystal begins to glow. The pristine lilac is suddenly marred by a giant crack that splits down the middle of the wall to the ground.

The crystal crumbles, and in its wake is what looks like a doorway. Although the crystal is glowing the doorway is pitch black, no light is coming inside of it and no light is escaping.

Whatever this led to must be otherworldly.

"Okay, now you are going to say your wish and go through the doorway. Your wish will come true on the other side."

You hesitate. "But everything will b the same right? My family will still be there?"

The Suriel shakes it's head. "Yes, your family will still be there on the other side."

"And you? WIll you be coming along?" You curiously look at the strange creature who you are placing your life with.

"I will need a bit to recoup from such a large use of my magic, but I will see you on the other side."

You're a bit more on board now, but there's still a blaring horn in the back of your head telling you to turn back now and just go home.

You wonder if Azriel was awake and what he would think of this story.

You're snapped out of your thoughts by a rustling in the bushes, someone was coming.

"Now or never dear, just say your wish and go through the gate or turn around now and never return." The Suriel hurriedly told you.

You nod your head. Oh gods you didn't exactly plan out the semantics of your wish, but you could hear footsteps approaching meaning you had to hurry.

"I wish I had a different mate." There you go, you'll have a do-over and leave it up to fate for another chance.

The Suriel's hands begin to glow with a wispy white magic you have never seen before.

"Your wish is my command. See you on the other side oh little one."

You run to the doorway, straight into the darkness and immediately realise that you are no longer in the same world. This darkness was not the darkness you knew, the comforting blanket of Azriel's shadows, it was dark and powerful and so ancient that it settled on your skin like a later of dust rather than a blanket.

You look over your shoulder and see nothing but abyss behind you and decide to keep going. You take a step and are blinded by the light.

Azriel knew something was wrong the moment he was yanked from his sleep, senses on alert. He is a very light sleeper, he has to be, for sleep is vulnerability and Azriel and vulnerability are not well acquainted.

His shadows wail your name and he already knows that you had left. He checks the bond and the feelings that had once been so vibrant were now muted and strained.

He checked on the bond, went down the pathway that connects you two and he realised that your end spans out far. He can't see you anymore. Wherever you had gone it was not in this world and he prays to whatever gods will hear him for your safe return to him.

The air was warm, and the sun was out. Those were the first signs that something had gone terribly wrong. The chill of winter was nowhere to be found and neither was any of the surroundings you were accustomed to in the Night Court.

There were no towering snowcapped mountains, no evergreen trees, and no beats of Illyrian wings coming for you. Azriel had a sixth sense for finding you whenever you were in peril, he would have been here by now.

You take a breath and the smell of the air catches you off guard. Cinammon and Maple, why were you in Autumn? You looked at the trees and saw the golden and orange hues of maple trees in the distance.

You hear a rustling behind you coming from the wall. You quickly turn around, only to see that the wall was no longer there and in it's place stood Eris Vanserra.

While he is technically no longer an enemy of the Night Court, he was still on shakey ground so why did he look so elated to see you.

You don't think you had ever seen Eris smile the way he was smiling at you right now. No mischief or bite, Eris Vanserra had actually looked happy for once.

"Next time you run off my love, please at least tell me where you're going off to."

My love? Oh this is not happening and definitely not with Eris of all people?

He walks up to you, cups you face with his hands, and places a kiss on your forehead. His hands aren't smooth the way you would expect a nobles to be, but they felt nothing like the hands you had fallen asleep holding which sent a wave of disappointment down your chest.

"I can feel you're distraught. Did something happen?"

The weight of everything became much too heavy to bear and the interworld travelling had taken such a heavy toll on your body.

You fell to the ground before you could answer and Eris caught you and yelled for his guards.

You had the weirdest dream while out that Eris was your mate and you were in a strange new world. You turn over to tell Azriel about your brain's antics when you're greeted with the sight of Eris doing paperwork.

You look down. Red and white sheets with the emblem of the Autumn Court. It was real. You were here in Eris' bed, in Eris' court, and you were his mate.

You rustled with the blanket, and Eris suddenly turned around. He comes over and hands you a mug with a steaming hot liquid that smelled suspiciously like tea.

"Are you alright? Should I postpone the meeting with the Night Court tonight until you are feeling better?"

Night Court? You could see your family and go home? All you had to do was tell Azriel and he would get you out of this like he always does.

"No!" You say suspiciously quick and then try to backtrack.

"We can't cancel on our guests because of such a minor inconvenience." You try to brush it off, hoping he takes the bait.

"The health of my mate is anything but a minor inconvenience, but you know your body and if you say you will be fine I won't postpone then." He grabs one of your hands in his.

"I will give you a few hours to rest and I will see you right before we greet our guests tonight. Have a good rest my lady." He kisses your knuckles and gently sets them down on the bed and goes through the door that likely leads to his office.

Wow. So this was a side of Eris you never thought anyone would ever see. You can't say you hate it, maybe you guys were put as mates for a reason.

This doesn't feel right without your family though. Without Azriel. Hopefully when you see him tonight you could talk to this Azriel and figure out what is going on and where you fit into this world.

Right now your body needs to recover, you let sleep find you. You dream of large wings and snowball fights.

You were awoken by two hand maidens lightly shaking you awake.

"My lady. Your guests will be here within the hour." They open the blinds which didn't do much since the sun had already began to set. The soft glow of dawn was a comfort that had only beckoned you back to sleep.

"We are running a bit behind my lady. Eris told us he would have our heads if we didn't let you rest for as long as possible." The smaller one of the two says as she zips around your room, grabbing an assortment of jewellery, hairpins, and clothes to speed run your getting ready.

You get up groggily, eyes bleary and hair in knots - a hallmark of a good sleep. You are hurriedly dragged into a tub and dunked with water and scrubbed clean.

They were really rushing, you would commend them for their efforts but you were half-drowning as they poured a bucket of water over your head to wash out the shampoo in your hair.

You were quickly dried and dressed in your undergarments, it seems like picking a gown would be last.

You were sat down at the large oak vanity while one maid did your hair and the other your makeup. You now realised that you had no idea what kind of meeting you were stepping in to; You have no idea the current political climate between the Night Court and the Autumn Court let alone if Beron was still the high lord.

You had no clue what the norm was in this reality and you didn't know how to ask without being deemed insane.

"Remind me again, how is our relationship to the Night Court?" You tried to slyly ask the maids and the smaller zippier one who was doing your hair looked at you like you had lost your mind.

"Our relations have been generally good considering they helped us remove Beron from power." She eyes you up and down, stopping her movements to better assess your current state.

If Beron is removed from power, that makes Eris the high lord. Does this mean you're lady of the Autumn Court?

"Miss are you feeling alright. We can just tell the Night Court delegates that you are still suffering from exhaustion and you can skip this meeting to rest."

"Forgive me, it's just my sleep-addled brain. I will be alright, thank you for your concern." You say as nonchalantly as possible.

She nodded, going back to sewing jewels into your pinned up hair.

"Alright, my lady. Well then, we must decide what gown you are to wear."

You had no idea what your current closet housed; it wasn't what you were accustomed to in the Night Court so you did the easiest thing you could.

"I am too exhausted to decide you two may select whatever you wish for me to wear."

They both perked up at this statement. I guess in this reality, you had never let them choose your outfit for such an important event.

"Really? We won't let you down we swear it." She borderline runs out in joy, squealing when she reaches the hallway the calmer taller one right on her heels.

She comes back a moment later with a navy dress with silver sparkles that make's it look like the Night Sky.

"I know you're usually dressed in Autumn Colours, but this dress is magnificent and you have never had such an opportunity to wear it."

You nod your head, it is gorgeous. The flowing tulle skirts and a corseted top made it a dress worthy of a queen or high lady.

They adorned you in matching silver jewelery and with a wave of a hand, the jewells in your hair turned into dark sapphires and diamonds.

You looked positively regal, nothing like how you would normally look at these functions.

You were beyond impressed with the work of these two handmaidens.

"You both did a splendid job." They smiled in response.

"What are your names?" Their faces shifted to surprise.

"I'm Portia." The calmer of the two responded.

"And I'm Nara." The very energetic one said.

Before you could say anything else there was a knock on the door.

Eris came in, decked out in the regal finery you could only expect from a high lord. His entire outfit was jet black minus the golden adornments on his coat.

You could make out symbols of Autumn; leaves, foxes, and branches all adorned his jacket. His hair was swept back cleanly and he looked every bit the gentlemen that you knew he wasn't at least in your world.

"I should be disappointed that you decided on sporting the colours of your old court instead of the ones of the court you preside over, but I cannot say that when you look this beautiful."

He walks around you, admiring you and your cheeks flush.

"I'm not going to give up my home court." You were about to say that your family is there, but you don't even know if they know you any more.

"And that's what I love about you. You know yourself, and you wouldn't change yourself for anyone."

You just smiled in response. You didn't know what to say because how much did Eris actually know about you? The current you, not the you that he thinks that he knows.

He holds his arm out to you. "Ready to face the wolves my love."

You take a breath, both excitement and fear flooding your senses.

"Always."

He winnows you to a doorway and from the shadow peaking from under the doorway, you know exactly who is inside.

The double doors open to a large dining room with a large table right in the middle. The entire room was dark wood, almost reminding you of a lavish tree.

The table was an even darker wood with a large strip of royal blue piped with yellow on the table.

Your eyes immediately find Azriel's and you know that this isn't your Azriel. While you understood that yes this is a different reality and not everything would be the same, the look of indifference he is giving you now plunged a dagger right through your heart.

You look to Rhys and Cassian and it was the same. No friendly smiles or hugs just pure diplomacy. You were getting the mask of the high lord, the general, and the shadowsinger.

You were a stranger or worse, an enemy to your family. The realisation had you wishing you had just stayed in bed.

"High lord and lady of Autumn it is a pleasure to make your Acquantice." Rhys bows and Cassian and Azriel follow.

You really didn't like this. Eris returns the polite gestute with one of his own.

"And you as well Rhysand." Eris bows back and you follow.

You can feel Azriel's gaze bearing into your soul, but you're afraid to look, scared you will break the instant you guys make eye contact.

The moment is broken by the opening of the doors. Lucien rushes in, slightly frazzled and very light.

"Apologies. My travels took me longer than anticipated." He looks around, trying to survey the state of the room.

Eris clasps his hands together and says, "Well now that everyone is here lets eat!"

He waives his hand and all the trays of food on the table are open to reveal a lavish feast.

The table has two seats on each side and one at each head. Rhys took one and Eris the other. Eris pulled out the chair next to him for you and Lucien sat on the other side of Eris.

You really were hoping Cassian would sit next to you so you don't have to face such close proximity with this Azriel so soon, but it seems fate had another plan.

Azriel was sitting directly next to you. Okay no probem you can just ignore him, you focus on your food easy enough.

The food was divine, succulent meats mixed with fresh wild grain and the best seasonal produce Autumn had to offer. One small problem, you didn't like tomatoes and it was in half of the food.

You tried to eat around it as subtly as possible, but you really hoped that no one would notice.

You looked at Lucien to see that he was putting some veal with cherry tomatoes on his plate. Azriel would definetly like something like that. You reach over to grab it when Lucien is done and hand it to Azriel.

You immediately realise your mistake. Rhys, Eris, and Lucien were too engrossed with talks of diplomacy to catch the significance of what you had done, but Azriel was looking at you with pure bewilderment.

You knew he had been eyeing that dish that was being hogged by Cassian and Lucien's side of the table. You had specifically gotten it for him and at this point Azriel has probably picked up that you don't like it.

This is a gesture that is way too intimate for colleagues who allegedly don't know each other. Cassian looks to Azriel and raises a brow, and you know he suspects you.

"Where did you say you were from again?" Cassian asks you, probably trying not to look too suspicious.

"I'm from Night, actually. I only came here after well, you know." You say as you point your head towards Eris.

"Where about in Night?" Azriel looks to you.

"Hewn." That spoke for itself and Cassian goes quiet and Azriel gives you a nod of acknowledgement. You really needed this dinner to be over with.

You take a sip of your wine, plotting your escape when you're snapped out of your thoughts by the feeling of something on your wrist.

You knew it was Azriel's shadows, but these weren't the shadows you had become accustomed to. This shadow was sharper, it didn't flow the way your Azriel's shadow did it seemed that it was more used to striking.

It was circling your hand and wrist and you looked at Azriel in curiousity only to be met with a wall of indifference. You knew Azriel though and you could tell from the whites of his knuckles and the way his right hand was gripping the stem of his glass that he was having trouble reeling in his shadows.

You look to the tips of his ears and see a bit of red blooming there, barely visible unless you know what to look for. He was embarrassed by the lack of control of his shadows.

This may not have been your Azriel, but this was still Azriel, and you learned his language, you know his tells like the back of your hand.

"It's alright, you don't have to hold them back. Shadows aren't meant to hide, not be hidden." You give him a small smile, not wanting him to know that you want him to leave his shadows, that they were the only sense of comfort you had felt in this strange new world. \

Azriel refuses to look at you for the rest of the dinner but he leaves his shadows to wander. They stray to your hands and your hair and although they are different from the shadows you knew, they were still a comfort.

Dinner finished then dessert came. This must be a completely different world because Rhys and Eris are getting along so well.

You were getting so sleepy, you had such a long day and your body needed to recover. You've been pulled in so many different ways in the past 24 hours and you were so emotionally drained.

Dinner ends, and Eris invites Rhys to go to his study to discuss something about post-war court logistics. Cassian volunteers to join because as general he knows the most about the armies. Eris tells you to go rest and they all bid you goodnight.

This left you, Lucien, and Azriel standing in one of the large hallways.

The redhead lets out a large yawn. "Well I'm going to bed goodnight you two."

He saunters off down the large hallway, presumably to his room.

This leaves just you and Azriel. You had been hoping for a moment alone with him all evening and now that you got it you were speechless.

"It seems everyone has left us." You try to make conversation with this Azriel, but you already know that while his walls are up it's a futile effort.

Almost a minute passes in silence.

"That does appear to be the case." He actually responded to your surprise.

"Your shadows, they are very lovely why do you stifle them?" If it was something that your Azriel needed to hear then it was probably something this Azriel needed to.

He looks away. "Many are averted by the idea of shadows running around loose, especially with my... reputation."

"Well, they must be fools for people fear what they do not know." You see bits of a broken soul in those hazel eyes. Oh how you wish you could do more.

"You don't know me and you didn't fear me." He says gently.

You wanted to tell him that you do know him, more than he will ever know. That you had seen the good and bad parts of his soul and still believed in him.

Your cut off by a shadow darting forwards and wrapping itself around your wrist in a protective fashion. This was not the dark, cold shadows ready to strike. No, this shadow was all smooth movements and comfort.

It was Azriel's shadow. Your Azriel's shadow.

Azriel looks at you confused and inspects the shadow.

"This is not one of mine." Cauldron boil me the shadow is going to tell him.

"No it's not." Really? That's the best you could come up with right now?

His shadows come up the shadow slowly, like they were approaching a feral cat.

They started whispering in the language of the shadows, dancing around each other.

Azriel's shadow goes to his ear and begins whispering something to Azriel and his normally stoic face turns into one of pure shock.

"I think you will want to sit down for this, come with me." He looks at you questioningly, but obeys nonetheless.

You walk him into the library and onto two of the couches that are facing each other.

"Explain." He looks at you in the way of the spymaster, which would intimidate anyone, even though you know him so well right now he does not know you.

Right now you are more enemy than friend and you're backing him into a corner and if you know anything about Azriel you know that when he feels like he's being backed into a corner he bites.

You don't know how your Azriel's shadow followed you or why it left it's master. His shadows rarely leave his side, especially for long periods like this. Could the shadow travel between worlds?

You hadn't really thought of the magical capabilities of the shadow's, and why does this Azriel's shadows differ from the one you know.

You're snapped from your thoughts by your newly adopted shadow tugging you into the library.

It is a large library filled with colorful books and oaken bookshelves. Tree trunks and roots adorned the walls and it felt as if you were in the hollow of a tree itself.

The library was built in a circle with desks and chairs placed in the middle and couches on the furthest side, against the windows.

The shadow led you to the couches and Azriel followed.

You sat and he sat directly across from you pinning you down with an icy stare. It's really not fun being on this side of his interrogations, you'll make fun of him for it next time you seen him. If there ever is a next time.

"Okay so the shadow is my friend's. He is also a shadowsinger, it must have followed me home." You knew he probably wasn't going to believe your lie but there was no harm in trying.

"My shadows tell me that this shadow comes from another world and considering that you haven't left Autumn's territory in months, and the fact that there is no other known shadowsinger, I would say that you don't belong here either?"

Azriel was nothing if not good at his job.

"How did you?" You look at him wide-eyed in disbelief.

"I am a spymaster, it's my job. The shadowsinger is he your mate? I can't wrap my head around a shadow straggling off on its own..." He looks at you borderline uninterested. Only Azriel would find someone who has crossed worlds and would find not even a hint of amusement in it.

"Oh no, we're not like that, I mean it's not like I haven't thought about it, but we're just very good friends. I actually ended up here because I wished for a new mate after I found out that my mate already had a mate it's very confusing I don't even know how that happened it's not even possible and-"

You cut yourself off when you saw the look on Azriel's face, like he was contemplating flying away and never returning.

"Pardon my frankness, but do you always talk so much? Your friend, the shadowsinger. He has no complaints of the agitating nature of your voice." Okay this was definitely not your Azriel.

"He enjoys the sound of my voice, thank you very much. We would have such lovely conversations that went on for hours."

"Were you holding him hostage?" Azriel has always been unintentionally funny, which got on Cassian's nerves more than he would like to admit.

"Excuse me-" You huff.

"So what is your plan to get home?" Azriel abruptly asks, making it very apparent how much he wants to get rid of you.

"I have no clue, the Suriel-" He cuts you off.

"Wait pause. You got here by making a deal with a Suriel?" There's a slight flash of worry in his eyes and your heartbeat begins to pick up.

"Yes." You look at him half wary half questioning.

"By any chance did you come through a crystalline gate?" He was bracing himself for an answer and your heart dropped at the question.

"Yes, how did you know?" His head drops to his hands, the darkness dances with his shadows and with the large wings behind his back, he looks as if he could be a fallen angel.

"You may have just doomed us all."

note: This piece has been sitting in my drafts for a month and I finally decided to let her see the light of day, she is extremely unedited and this was honestly for fun(I saw Irish Wish and was hit with a bout of inspiration and disapointment for allowing myself to be inspired by such a movie). I'll write a part 2 if this gains enough traction, but like always until next time my darlings!

note note: did we really expect me to have any semblance of editing?

#azriel x reader #acotar fic #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfic #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #acotar #azriel #azriel angst #but only kind of #azriel fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger

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yellowf1nch · 2 days ago

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Warning: Minors do not interact. Mentions of abuse, abusive behavior, manipulation, physical abuse, etc.

Hmmm...

Imagining Player living with a roommate who gets the glasses/Skylar from tinfoilhat, and maybe they have a decent relationship, maybe they don't know each other that well, but the Player just goes about their normal life while their roommate activates and starts to secretly use the dateviators. [I think this setup, the house layout still works, but maybe the gym is a second bedroom, and the attic doubles as the office (the gym would then move down to where the office is)]

Except, Roommate isn't treating the household objects that well. Even though they are people, Roommate just keeps treating them like things, using them, chewing them up and spitting them out. They go on a streak of making enemies (unintentional or not), though maybe they manage to befriend some of the dateables like Tina, Bathsheba, or even Kieth for all that these individuals enjoy drama and chaos. But for other objects...

Shelley is given more to hold onto, and forget about being cleaned, much less remounted (author's note: I don't know why there isn't any dialogue option in game to say that Player can learn how to remount even if they currently don't? I understand Shelley grows from being too positive, but truly, it wouldn't be that difficult to look it up and help her...). Abel is turned into a glorified footrest, dishes piled up and mold starting to accumulate on the coffee table since Roommate never uses hot pads or coasters. And it seems Roommate just cares about how hot everyone is, while some are fine with that kind of arrangement, it doesn't take away the physical harm they are enacting throughout the household.

Maybe some of them get tired of it all, cynical. But Dorian? Dorian knows that this has gone too far. Not only has Roommate been dismissive of the dateables, but has invaded your privacy (without your knowledge) by inviting Kieth to unlock your room when you aren't home. Dorian hears Roommate constantly talking about you behind your back, getting Scandalabra in on spreading the most vicious things about you. So, he manages to have a chat with Skylar. He doesn't need to say much to convince her there needs to be a change of hands. He's seen you put up with your roommate trampling all over you. He's seen you take the wayward wasp and spider outside, instead of killing it. He's heard Windolyn, Abel, Skylar, Phoenicia, and others talk about how you don't get out much, how you never bring anyone over. But he also knows how everyone sighs in relief when it's just you in the house.

And it takes a few tries to get you to actually put on a pair of aviator sunglasses that you've never seen before, because you figure they must be your roommate's, and you don't want to mess with their stuff. But when you do put them on, Skylar and Dorian know that this was how it was supposed to be from the start.

...I have more thoughts on this that I was manically imagining while about today. May elaborate in the future.

#date everything #date everything dorian #date everything game #date everything x reader

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no-name-omo · 1 day ago

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Can I get romantic hcs with Shadow Lord and Mateo (Separate) They're my favs.

[A/N] ahhh, my two favourite object boys, hope you enjoy

[Type] Head-Canon

[Summary] being their lover (separate)

[Genre] fluff / reverse comfort comfort / a little bit hurt to comfort / relationship

[Paring / Characters] Skips x gn! Reader /Mateo x gn! Reader

xxXShadowL0rd420Xxx / Skips Shadley The Shadow

👻Skip opens up only at night. Lying beside you in darkness, he whispers about his “eternal torment” and quietly admits how your presence eases it. You listen patiently, fingers entwined, knowing that behind every dramatic phrase is a truth he’s still learning how to say.

👻Instead of simple texts, he leaves hand-written scrolls sealed with candle wax. Each one contains lines like “To my dearest light in this wretched abyss” followed by a doodle of you two battling demons. You save every note; even the ones that end in “...also, we’re out of milk.”

👻When you’re sad, Skip wraps you in actual shadows, warm and fuzzy, not spooky. He acts like it’s part of a ritual, but really, it’s just how he comforts you without having to say too much. You’ve come to associate that darkness with safety.

👻Skip refuses to call you “babe” or “sweetheart.” Instead, he invents titles like “Wielder of My Heart” or “Chosen Champion of Affection.” The more ridiculous they get, the more sincere he seems. You tease him, but deep down, you love every single one.

👻You suggest a romantic comedy. He rolls his eyes until he’s fully invested twenty minutes in, muttering theories like “The real antagonist is emotional repression.” By the end, he’s clinging to your sleeve during the confession scene, pretending it’s “just allergies.”

👻In public, Skip is aloof and enigmatic, speaking in riddles and metaphors. In private, he’ll sheepishly nuzzle into your shoulder and ask if you think his eyeliner’s too much. He acts like love is a curse, but treats yours like it’s the greatest spell of all.

👻He plans elaborate, thematic anniversary dates. Complete with scavenger hunts, dark poetry, and candlelit rituals. It’s overkill, but sweet. You once tried to outdo him with a silly haunted house date and he nearly cried, whispering, “You... truly understand the art of shadows.”

👻Skip claims he’s not “built for caretaking,” but he stays by your side all day. He reads to you in his best dramatic voice, brings you soup with ominous garnish, and calls it a healing potion. The concern in his eyes says more than his words ever could.

👻When you fight, Skip sulks dramatically, retreating to the shadows. Eventually, you’ll find him in the corner of your room, waiting for you to notice. He’ll apologize in overly poetic language, but the apology is real and you always meet him halfway, even if it means deciphering a riddle.

👻When he told you he loved you, it wasn’t simple. He spoke of stars dying, of cursed chains breaking, and his voice trembled. But through all the metaphors, you heard him clearly. You answered simply “I love you too, drama king.” And he laughed, softly, honestly, fully.

Mateo Manta The Blanket

🧵Mateo always knows when you’ve had a hard day even if you don’t say a word. He’ll quietly wrap you in his arms, murmuring, “You don’t have to explain, love.” His presence alone is grounding, like a warm blanket on a stormy night. You melt into him without hesitation.

🧵You often find him waiting with tea and a soft smile, Davey curled up at his feet. He doesn’t ask questions right away. He just lets you be. That kind of patience, gentle and unspoken. Makes you feel more loved than any grand gesture ever could.

🧵Mateo gives forehead kisses like promises. Light, warm, and full of quiet devotion. When your confidence wavers, he simply pulls you close and says, “I’ve got you, hun.” His love isn’t loud, it’s steady, safe, and always there, even when you feel like falling apart.

🧵He struggles to open up about his own burdens. You catch him staring out the window sometimes, lost in thought. When you ask if he’s okay, he always deflects with a smile. So, you start showing up for him the way he does for you, gently, without pressure.

🧵The first time he let you hold him while he cried, he apologized for “being too much.” You didn’t let him. You kissed his temple, whispered, “You’re allowed to fall apart, too.” That night changed something. He started letting himself lean on you, little by little.

🧵You wake up most mornings to find him tangled around you, arm draped over your waist, blanket soft and body warm. “Five more minutes,” he mumbles, half-asleep. You always give in, heart full. With him, there’s no rush. Just safety. Just love.

🧵When you laugh too loud or talk too fast, he listens like every word matters. He never asks you to tone yourself down. In fact, he encourages your quirks, calls them “music” and “sunlight.” Around him, you’ve never felt more free to be yourself.

🧵He loves slow things. Reading beside you. Sharing warm pastries on a quiet morning. Watching rain drip down the window in silence. When you try to rush, he gently pulls you back with a kiss to your shoulder and a soft, “Stay a little longer, love.”

🧵Arguments are rare, but when they happen, he never yells. He withdraws, quietly hurt. It takes you time to learn how to reach him, soft touches, sincere apologies, patience. And when he comes back to you, he comes back fully. Forgiving. Loving. Wholehearted.

🧵Mateo doesn’t make love feel dramatic or loud. He makes it feel like coming home. Like being wrapped in warmth after a long, cold day. And every time he whispers, “I love you,” into your skin, you believe it completely. Because with him, you’re finally safe.

Date everything! x reader taglist: @dipdotsmiyakiwii

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fidius · 1 day ago

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As a parent and teacher, I think you should keep in mind that all parents make predictions (mostly in their heads) about who/what/how their kid is and is going to grow up to be, mostly based on who they (the parents) are. This happens before the kids are born, and often even before they're conceived (consider if you've ever thought something like "when/if I have a kid, I'm going to teach them not to [whatever]").

All humans kind of do this about each other--you start making guesses about what a person is likely the moment you notice they exist, and your behavior toward them is based on that mental model.

The thing is that, because (most of us) understand that there's a lot of stuff we don't know about someone based on looking at them, we are constantly updating the mental models we have of others based on interactions and observations. We recognize that people aren't fully knowable or unchanging objects. And the more interested we are in that person as a person the more frequently and carefully we update the model we have of them.

You can probably see where I'm going with this: to a lot of parents, their kid is not really a person. They don't feel the need to update their ideas about their kid because the kid is more of an object to them. Objects don't change who they are. This is a spectrum, of course. Even the best parents are going to hang on to a bit of their preconceived notions because of inertia as much as anything else. Your mom might never quite internalize that you don't love applesauce as much at 37 as you did at 7.

You folks whose parents can't (won't) recognize what's really going on with your gender aren't alone are dealing with the most obvious case of parents who aren't really seeing you as a full person, but sadly not the only one. I wish I knew something helpful to say about that, but I haven't yet found a way to make a parent see their kid as a person when they didn't want to, and I've tried with dozens. But do know that you're not alone, and there are plenty of people out there who are going to try their damndest to see you for who you really are.

Gendered parenting is so weird. As a little kid I was a total daddy's girl, I was told I would always try to sneak the garage, I was always very interested in everything he was doing and would follow him around while he was working, but while my family was never the type to outright say "you can't do that because you're a girl", they simply didn't entertain the idea that I could possibly be interested in cars. Then when my little brother was born, it was just assumed he would become a mechanic like our dad because he was a boy. Even though he, unlike me, didn't like being in the garage much and wasn't all that interested in what dad was doing. Once he got to a certain age, dad started making him help and would drag him away from his actual interests for it, which lead to a lot of arguing and not much actual learning.

Gendered expectations sort of create doubles of children. There's the real child with their actual personality, interests and behaviors, and then there's the Gender Child.

My real brother hated soccer and team sports. The Gender Child that existed only the minds of the adults in his life enjoyed playing soccer because that's what a Boy Child likes.

Growing up, I always felt like adults didn't actually know me as a person and they weren't interested in getting to know me. Because they felt they'd already learned everything there was to know about me when they were told "it's a girl".

When I talk about how I never got gifts I actually liked from my relatives (to this day I still don't like getting gifts that aren't something I picked out myself), it isn't actually about the gifts themselves. I don't even remember them. What I do remember is the feeling of being given gifts that were seemingly not bought with the real me in mind. They were for the Girl Child™️ version of me. The me that adults wanted me to be, not who I actually was.

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pankowcrumbs · 3 days ago

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Delicate love X Bucky

MasterList

Marvel MasterList

Plot: You find out Bucky has a file on you and how can you possibly trust him now.

Trust is a delicate thing.

It doesn’t shatter all at once. It cracks. Slowly. Quietly. And by the time you realise it’s broken, it’s already too late.

I suppose I should have seen the signs. The way Bucky would avoid my eyes when I asked certain questions. How he'd come home late and kiss my forehead rather than my lips. How his mind would wander when he thought I wasn’t looking.

But I loved him.

God, I loved him.

So I didn’t ask. I didn’t dig. I just believed.

We’d been together nearly two years. In that time, Bucky had gone from the haunted soldier with a history soaked in red, to the man who would make tea in the morning and hold me close at night. We built a life together. A quiet one. A soft one. I thought we’d made it through the worst.

Until I found the file.

I wasn’t snooping. I was looking for a charger in his bottom drawer. He always kept spare cables in there. What I found instead was a sleek, black folder. S.H.I.E.L.D. stamped across the top.

I hesitated. I knew it wasn’t meant for my eyes.

But my name was written on the tab.

My stomach twisted.

I opened it with shaking fingers. And there it was.

My full file. Where I’d been stationed during my humanitarian deployment in Sokovia. Where I lived before that. Family history. Medical records. Surveillance images. A copy of my birth certificate.

And tucked in the back a contract.

Assignment: Y/N L/N Target status: LOW THREAT Engagement objective: Gain intel and assess allegiance to Sokovian resistance cells. Agent: James Buchanan Barnes

My knees gave out.

I sat on the floor, the file spread in front of me like a crime scene.

It was a joke. A sick, cruel joke.

But I couldn’t laugh.

Because every memory every kiss, every whispered I love you was suddenly thrown into question.

Was I ever anything more than a mission?

He came home a few hours later.

I didn’t even look at him. I sat on the sofa, the file on the table. When he walked in and saw it, the colour drained from his face.

"Y/N..."

"Don’t," I said, my voice hollow.

He reached for me, but I stood up sharply. "Don’t touch me."

“Let me explain.”

“Oh, you want to explain why you used me? Lied to me? Slept next to me every night while reporting back on me like I was some kind of what? Threat?”

“I wasn’t reporting anymore,” he said, his voice rough. “Not for a long time. At first, yes. It was an assignment. But then it became real. You became real.”

Tears blurred my vision, but I blinked them away. “Don’t insult me with that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“No,” I said. “The truth is in that file.”

He looked at me helplessly. “I was trying to protect you.”

“By lying to me?”

“By keeping you close. By making sure you weren’t on anyone’s radar.”

I laughed, bitter. “You don’t get to make those decisions for me, Bucky.”

Silence stretched between us.

Then I said it.

Words I didn’t even know I was thinking until they left my mouth.

“I would have taken a bullet for you just to prove my love… only to realise you were the one holding the gun.”

His eyes flinched like I’d physically struck him. And in some ways, maybe I had.

I left that night.

Packed a bag and didn’t look back.

He didn’t chase me.

I think he knew better.

Weeks passed.

Each day felt like dragging my heart behind me. I moved in with a friend across the city and buried myself in routine. Work. Sleep. Repeat. I kept expecting the pain to dull, but it stayed sharp. Like a knife I couldn’t pull out.

Bucky tried calling. Once. Then twice. Then every day for a week. I never answered.

Eventually, he stopped.

Or maybe I just blocked the number.

Then came the letter.

No postage stamp. Just slipped under the door.

My name written in careful handwriting I knew better than my own.

Inside was a single page.

Y/N,

I don’t expect forgiveness. I don’t even expect an answer.

But I want you to know I resigned from S.H.I.E.L.D. The moment you found out. I couldn’t stomach the idea of standing for an organisation that asked me to manipulate someone like that someone like you.

I’m in therapy. Real therapy. Not just missions and debriefs.

I know I hurt you. I know I lost you. But I’ll keep working to be the kind of man who never would’ve accepted that assignment to begin with.

You were never just a mission. You were my peace.

– Bucky

I sat on the floor, holding the letter, my heart thundering in my chest.

It didn’t change what he did.

But it showed me he was trying.

Three months later, I saw him again.

It was a coincidence. A street market. I was with a friend, and there he was, across the stalls, holding a bag of apples. He looked different. Softer. Quieter. There were shadows under his eyes, but his posture was less guarded.

Our eyes met.

He didn’t move toward me. He didn’t smile.

He just nodded. A small, respectful nod.

And then he turned away.

I don’t know why, but that made me cry.

Because he wasn’t chasing me.

He was letting me go.

It started with the flowers.

The first bouquet arrived on a rainy Wednesday, two months after I’d seen him at the street market. I opened my front door to find them sitting in a brown paper wrap no card, no note, but I knew who they were from.

Peonies. My favourite. I’d told him that once, in passing.

The next week, it was chamomile and daisies.

Then it was sunflowers.

Always left gently at the door. Never accompanied by knocks or footsteps. Just quiet gestures.

I didn’t send any messages. I didn’t return any favours.

But I also didn’t throw them away.

I placed them in jars and let them bloom on my windowsill, the way I had once bloomed in his arms.

He didn’t push.

Not even once.

No texts. No calls. No showing up at my flat or waiting outside my job.

Just… space.

And that space, instead of staying bitter and cold, started to soften. The ache in my chest that once howled with betrayal began to whisper something else something quieter, almost like understanding.

It wasn’t until I saw Sam Wilson by chance at a community centre fundraiser that I heard anything more about Bucky.

“He’s different,” Sam said simply, after we made polite conversation and I couldn’t help asking. “He’s still Bucky. Still stubborn. Still learning how to open up without feeling like he’s exposing a wound.”

I nodded, unsure how to reply.

“But he’s doing the work,” Sam added. “Not for anyone. For himself.”

There was something solid in that. Something real. It stuck with me.

One morning, I found a card with the flowers.

It wasn’t romantic or sentimental. Just a line:

"If you ever want to talk not about us, just about anything I’ll be in the park on Sunday mornings. Same bench." – B

I kept the card on the fridge for a week before I gave in.

That Sunday, I walked to the park, my fingers cold inside my coat pockets. I didn’t expect him to be there. I half hoped he wouldn’t be.

But he was.

Sitting on the bench under the big elm tree, hands resting on his knees, a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. His hair was longer now, tucked behind his ears. He looked up and smiled not big, not assuming just a soft pull of his lips like he couldn’t quite believe I’d come.

I sat beside him. No words.

The wind rustled through the leaves above us.

“You look well,” he said after a moment.

“So do you.”

We sat there for twenty minutes. Talking about everything except us. The bakery down the road. A book I was reading. His recent fascination with pottery, of all things.

I walked away that day lighter than I had in months.

It became a thing. Sundays.

No pressure. No expectations.

Sometimes we’d just sit in silence. Sometimes we’d talk for hours. He never brought up the past unless I did.

And I did eventually.

One cold morning, coffee steaming in my hands, I asked, “What made you stop pretending?”

He took his time answering.

“You did,” he said. “Loving you scared the hell out of me. I didn’t know how to love without hurting someone… until you. And when I realised I’d hurt you too it broke something in me. I knew I had to fix it. Not to win you back. Just to be someone who deserved the kind of love you gave.”

I said nothing.

But something in me started to thaw.

He invited me to his therapy session one day.

“I won’t be upset if you say no,” he said. “I just thought maybe… hearing it might help.”

So I went.

I listened as he talked about his past, his regrets, his guilt. He spoke openly raw, but steady.

He didn’t hide from what he’d done.

He acknowledged it.

He was rebuilding himself, brick by brick.

Not for me.

But I was welcome to watch.

He didn’t kiss me the first time I let him walk me home.

He didn’t try.

He just looked at me, eyes so blue and tired and full of hope, and said, “I’m really glad you came today.”

So was I.

Six months after I found the file, he asked if he could take me somewhere.

“Not a date,” he said quickly. “Just… a breather. For both of us.”

“Where?”

“Italy.”

I blinked. “Italy?”

He scratched the back of his neck, bashful. “There’s this little town near Lake Como. Peaceful. No tourists this time of year. I thought maybe you could use a change of scene. No pressure.”

I should’ve said no. It was mad. Reckless.

But I didn’t.

I said yes.

It was perfect.

Not in a cinematic, romantic way. But in its slowness. Its intention.

He was present. Every moment.

He cooked for me in the little villa. Pasta from scratch, fumbling his way through the sauce with a grin. We walked through old markets, sat on sun-warmed stones by the lake, shared stories in candlelight without once looking at our phones.

He asked questions. Listened. Laughed with me, not at me.

He looked at me like I was his world and not because he needed something from me.

Because he finally understood my worth.

On our last night, as we watched the sun dip below the hills, he reached for my hand.

“I almost lost you,” he said softly. “And I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I want you to know… I’ve spent every day since working to become the kind of man who’d never make you feel unworthy again.”

Tears stung my eyes.

“I couldn’t lose you, Y/N. You were the best thing in my life. I had to do the hard work not just for you, but so that I never become a danger to the people I love again. Even myself.”

I squeezed his hand.

“I see you trying, Bucky.”

“And?”

“And I love the man you’re becoming.”

We didn’t kiss that night.

We just held each other.

And in his arms, I finally felt safe again not because he was shielding me from the world, but because he was no longer someone I needed protection from.

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fantasticfourthwingimagines · 1 day ago

Note

Would you do patching up a wound with Bodhi?

Of course! I had so much fun with this one! Thank you for the request! <3 I hope you enjoy!

“That might have been the longest shower you’ve ever taken.” You said, flipping to the next page in your book without looking at him.

“Got a little side tracked.” Bodhi said, shutting the door behind him.

“Doing what?”

“Getting rid of the body.”

Your heart stopped.

You shut your book and sat up, laying your eyes on your boyfriend.

He was leaning against the doorframe, casual as ever. For a second you thought he looked fine. Until your eyes caught the bruising along his jaw. Then the way he was cradling his side.

And then the blood. Thick and red, trailing between his fingers and down the hem of his white shirt.

“Bodhi, you’re -” You were already moving, the book forgotten, your heartbeat loud in your ears. “You’re bleeding.” You reached him in two steps, hands shaking as you pried his away from the wound.

He had bleed through his white shirt, and flinched when you touched near the bloodstain. You let one hand drift over his uninjured side, grounding him, grounding yourself, while your other hand lifted the edge of his shirt.

He flinched again, but didn’t stop you. Instead Bodhi grabbed your hand, holding it tight in his as you looked at the cut. It wasn’t that deep, but needed at least two stitches.

You frowned up at him, rolling his shirt up so it would stay above his wound. “This needs stitches. Why didn’t you go to the infirmary?”

“It had been over an hour,” he said quietly. “I knew you’d be worried if I was gone much longer.” His voice was matter-of-fact. Like it was obvious. Like your panic had been inevitable.

Godsdamnit you loved this man. Even when he was infuriating. Especially when he was infuriating.

“Bodhi Durran-”

“Would it make you less mad and more impressed if I told you I fought them off naked? Impressively, I might add.”

You blinked.

He was giving you a tentative grin. The kind that usually meant trouble.

You took a deep breath, counted to ten, then spoke. “Did you knock any of them out with your dick?”

His smile turned to a frown. “Well, no. That’s only yours to touch.”

Heat flooded your cheeks. He was right, but still. “Take your shirt off and lay on the bed before I’m the one who attempts to kill you.”

He didn’t argue. Just peeled off his shirt, jaw tightening with a wince. You didn’t miss the way his breath stuttered.

While he eased back against the pillows, you knelt beside the bed and pulled out your first-aid kit, thankfully still stocked with what you’d need to patch up your stubborn, brave, reckless idiot of a boyfriend. You grabbed the chair in your room, pulling it up next to the bed.

You prepped the needle with unsteady hands and an even more unsteady heart. You hated this part. Watching your friends’ backs, wondering if each night was the last. You hated knowing that at any second someone could appear and try to kill them. Kill him. They’d almost done it again tonight.

You didn’t even notice your hands were shaking. Not until Bodhi caught one and held it.

You exhaled, giving his hand a soft squeeze. “Sorry,” you whispered.

He shook his head. “Why are you apologizing? You’re not the one that tried to kill me.” A beat. Then, with a crooked grin: “Yet.” The grin faltered into a grimace as you dabbed at the cut.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” You tried to keep your tone light. “Might have to start joining you for showers. You know, just for safety.” The smile you offered probably looked as fragile as it felt. You moved the cloth away and got everything ready to start the stitches.

“I wouldn’t object to -” A hiss left his mouth as you pierced his skin. “-that at all.”

You frowned, loathing the sound of pain in his voice. “You know if you’d gone to the infirmary they would’ve had something better to numb you with.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “But I’d rather feel a little pain with you than none with them.”

His words wrapped around your heart and squeezed. You felt the flush rise to your cheeks, warm and helpless. “You can’t sweet talk me out of worrying about you.” You muttered, finishing up one stitch and moving on to the second one.

“Trust me,” Bodhi winced again, and you fought every instinct to reach out and touch him, give him comfort. You could do that as soon as you were finished patching him up. “I know that’s a lost cause.”

It was, but Bodhi was as much of a lost cause when it came to you.

He’d always made light of things, but you knew how hard he worried. How deep that worry ran, even when it wasn’t warranted. There was a time last year when you were waiting on Bodhi to get back from a mission and Xaden had joined you. You couldn’t remember how now, but the subject of making mud pies when you were children got brought up. Xaden had somehow convinced his younger cousin that they were chocolate instead.

You were in tears from laughing when Bodhi had arrived, and within seconds he was yelling at his cousin.

You’d never seen that before. Not from him. He thought the world of Xaden, but he also thought that Xaden had made you cry.

His utter embarrassment after he realized you were crying from laughter was adorable.

You finished up the last stitch, tying it off and putting everything back in its place. As soon as you did, you leaned over his hip, brushing a soft kiss against the newly stitched skin. “There you go,” you murmured. “All better.”

Bodhi reached for your hands, tugging you up on the bed with him. “What about right here? It hurts too.” He said, tapping the bruise on his jaw.

An actual smile tugged at your lips, “Oh, forgive me.” You said, and pressed a lingering kiss against his jaw. “Anywhere else?” You murmured, letting him tug you even closer.

“I think I might have gotten hit in the mouth,” he said, nuzzling your nose with his. “It’s all kind of blurry . . .”

You let your smile grow. “Well, I better be thorough, just in case.” Then you leaned in and kissed him.

The kiss was soft. Slow. You poured everything you hadn’t said into it. Every terrified thought that had come into your head when you realized you could have lost him tonight, and every ounce of relief that you hadn’t.

Bodhi was the one to pull away first, smiling like the whole world had narrowed to you. “See?” he said, voice low. “The Healers couldn’t have done that for me.”

You let out a quiet laugh, pressing your forehead to his. “You’re insufferable, Bodhi Durran.”

And godsdamnit, you wouldn’t have him any other way.

#bodhi durran #bodhi durran x reader #bodhi durran x you #bodhi durran imagine #fourth wing imagine

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 2 days ago

Note

Hey can you do task force DEFY and the sangvis with a touch starved s/o if not that's fine but I would really like to see it if possible

(GFL) AK-12, AN-94, AK-15, RPK-16, and Angelia with a touch starved S/O

Just DEFY for now since I'm operating on minimum brain cells...Also the fact that this was sent in November 14th, 2024 and has been sitting in my drafts since then...

12 would immediately notice how relaxed S/O would become if she got near them just from reading their vitals.

At first, she thought that was just her effect, because she's JUST that good.

Well, yes that was a good part of the reason, but it was also because they craved ANY kind of physical affection given to them, teasing or otherwise.

12 didn't think too much on it. Humans were naturally drawn to that kind of need biologically anyway. She won't be going full PDA on them either way due to just how she acts, but she's not heartless.

...Most of the time.

She'll yank back her hand just to see their reaction, smirking at their pout. Or better yet-

(AK-12) "S/O! I need a hug...~"

(S/O) "Wha-? Twelve, I'm carrying this crate-"

(AK-12) "Whaaat? You won't?"

She immediately broke character with a light giggle, hearing them sigh. S/O knew better than to give into her goading.

...But damn it, if it didn't want to make them drop the crate every damn time. Hell, sometimes they did.

When she acted like she was about to jump anyway, only to stop herself gracefully and feign innocence.

(AK-12) "Oh wait, you're right! I should wait.-"

(S/O) "TWELVE!"

Regardless, the reactions always entertained 12.

Honestly? If 94 wasn't a T-Doll, she'd also be just as touch starved as S/O.

Human affection was always an oddity to her. Or so she thought.

Getting verbal praise from AK-12 or Angelia always made her happy, for a mission well done she was content with only that.

But it wasn't until S/O fell in love with her that she realized she needed more. She wasn't even aware that she could want more.

One day when 94 decided to try that "hugging" thing she had seen other T-Dolls do, she realized how happy it made S/O.

And so, she began doing it more whenever the two had a moment, and quickly S/O reciprocated her love.

Each time their arms embraced her, 94 lips formed a smile, hearing her own core heat up, that fact never seeming to bother S/O.

Sometimes she'd get teased by Angelia for holding hands with S/O, but at the end of the day, she doesn't mind. If it made S/O happy, then she'd give them all the hugs they need.

And truth be told, she was more than happy to receive the love back.

(AN-94) "If you are not busy...would...you like to 'cuddle', S/O?"

15 knew that humans couldn't live without some kind of physical sensation. Or at least, thats what she read about them some time ago. It never really came into the forefront of her mind considering she was a machine of war first.

And it was because of that, 15 genuinely had no idea how to comfort S/O. She was a war-machine, a fighter, not a lover.

Still, she tried her best. Such as nearly crushing S/O with her arms.

While uncharacteristically being highly embarrassed by that blunder, once they recovered, 15 tried again, keeping some of the strength there but not enough to harm them.

15 felt their heartbeat quicken, but they melted deeper into her strong embrace.

She stands there awkwardly for the first few times, not really knowing where to move her arms at all, but overtime she allows S/O to get close and guide her as needed.

Which was ironic, since it was supposed to be 15 helping them and not the other way around.

But at the very least, S/O could teach her how to be a better lover, though they'd argue she was perfect already.

(AK-15) "I believe using a pillow would be more comfortable rather than using me, but if it puts you at ease, I cannot object..."

16 could tell just how often S/O stared at her hands that they craved her affection.

And this time, she could tell it was a quirk unique to them. Well, at least of the humans she met.

She'd act mysterious about it, teasing them to say what they wanted.

(RPK-16) "Oh? Why are you staring at my hand? Is there something that interests you?"

16 would indulge them, finding the affection of a human quite novel indeed. Especially the physical side of it.

(RPK-16) "Are humans so easily satisfied that they don't even need another flesh and blood being to comfort them? Hm, no, I am not judging. Just observing.~"

It really was amusing how easy it was to get them relaxed.

Generally, one shouldn't find the concept of hugging a killer android soothing, but to each their own.

Angelia herself is somewhat touch starved, but she never really thought about it considering her profession.

Anyone that got close to her was inevitably going to get hurt, or worse. No need to care if she didn't get a hug or whatever.

...And yet, S/O was always clinging onto her in private, and she didn't entirely have the heart to push them off.

One, because they looked so damn happy holding her hand, prosthetic or not, that'd be like kicking a puppy. She WOULD tell them off if they got a bit too trigger-happy in public or she had places to be.

But generally, she'd just quietly have a hand on theirs, her face not changing too much but the light blush told S/O everything.

In bed, she didn't mind having S/O hold her close. It was jarring, honestly. To receive such love again, the last time she really recalled so was from her parents.

Angelia leaned further back into them, still never making a comment, yet never refusing them outright in private.

(Angelia) "...You sure are clingy."

(S/O) "I-Is that a problem?"

She squeezed their hand tightly.

(Angelia) "Did I say it was?"

#girls' frontline imagines #girls' frontline x reader #girls' frontline headcanons #ak 12 x reader #an 94 x reader #ak 15 x reader #rpk 16 x reader #angelia x reader #ak 12 gfl #an 94 gfl #ak 15 gfl #rpk 16 gfl #angelia gfl

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rhettrosunsets · 2 days ago

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Team Bonding - Petals And Protection Series| Boblena X Fem!Reader

Pairing: Robert Reynolds X Fem!Floral Powered Reader X Yelena Belova (Boblena X Reader)

Category: Fluff

Summary: You weren't supposed to be a permanent part of the team. You were supposed to heal after your trauma, have a safe place at the tower, and then leave. But after Bob and Yelena admit their feelings and you start dating the team learns more about you leading to a team that would go to war to protect the one light inside the tower.

Based on this ask here!

Masterlist

Read More Of The Petals And Protection Series Here!

Warnings: No use of Y/N. No description of readers looks. Reader is soft spoken and has plant powers. Canon marvel violence. Mentions of readers and Ava's backstories. Bob and Yelena don't play about their girlfriend.

Notes: Aaa! Anon, thank you so much for requesting!! I absolutely love getting to write for this series as it's one of my personal favorites. I hope I did your ask justice, and your other ask should be out hopefully by Sunday! ❤️

You weren’t supposed to be a permanent fixture at the tower in the beginning. Originally you being there was just supposed to be a temporary arrangement of sorts.

You’d gone through hell, been left for dead in a lab after being experimented on, and Yelena and Bob had found you. You needed a safe place to recover, so what better place than the tower. A place where you knew you’d be safe and your powers wouldn’t be exploited or shamed.

The team had no objections to this, you were kind but you often tried staying out of the way, always being stuck to Bob and Yelena’s sides in the beginning.

The chances where if you saw Bob and Yelena, then you’d be found trailing slightly behind for those first few weeks. However, as feelings got admitted, and the three of you began dating it became obvious you’d become a permanent fixture in the tower for good. And the team wasn’t exactly sure what to make of this.

It wasn’t that they disliked you, truly. Most of them actually admired your strength from a distance. But the issue was they didn’t know much about you.

They knew of your struggles and the hell you’d been through. They knew you really loved plants, and they knew you could make some mean tea mixes, and they knew you didn't ever want to discuss your time in the lab, but that was really it.

You were a soft spoken, kind person, and that made you like a light that none of them knew how to approach.

Sure, you were always kind to everyone, but now, now you were a part of the team whether you went on missions or not. You were one of them, and that was terrifying.

Bucky’s initial instinct was to stay clear of you. You were always kind to him, but he thought you were going to come and go. That you were going to be someone temporary and he didn’t want to form bonds more than necessary if needed.

To be honest, he saw himself in you, and he knew talking to you may bring back memories of his own dark times.

But as it became clearer that you were going to stay, he started talking to you more. He saw the way you watered plants that you hadn’t planted or grown. And he saw how you tried to take care of everyone around you in the ways that you could.

One night he’d had a pretty horrible nightmare and had gone into the kitchen to get a glass of water and you’d been sitting at the counter. You were making some tea mixes, a bunch of different herbs scattered around the counter as you wroked.

You simply just smiled at him with a soft wave and asked him if he wanted some tea, and that you had just made a calming mix that may help if he needs it. You didn’t push, you didn’t ask him why he was awake, you just offered him a drink and that was that.

From then on you two would have quick conversations in passing and other times you’d ask him about stuff in the forties and what his experiences were like, and other times he’d ask you about your plant research. He began to become rather fond of you over time. You brought something brighter to the tower, and he enjoyed the way that Bob and Yelena seemed to light up around you.

Alexei was confused at first, he didn’t quite know how to feel. One day you just appeared in the tower, with Bob and Yelena already seeming protective of you. He saw the way that Bob and Yelena would begin to light up around you, and how the three of you always seemed stuck to one another.

He watched the three of you interact from a distance, watching how over time you all kept falling more and more in love with one another.

He began to ask you about your powers, and what they could do, as you never really showed the full extent of them. You’d show him with a soft smile as you’d make new flowers bloom, or more vines curl around the windows, or even manage to change the shapes and colors of certain plants.

He may not know a lot, but he knew two things. He knew you were something that Bob and Yelena truly needed in their lives and that you made their lives endlessly brighter, and that he’d throw a car for you if anyone tried to hurt you.

John really didn’t know how to feel. He knew you’d been through hell, he knew that Bob and Yelena seemed to adore you, but he really didn’t know much else.

You’d ask him how he was doing in passing, he doesn’t say much, but he watches out for you in his own way. He knows you have a hard time hearing things about certain missions, so he tries to not bring them up around you. You’re a nice person, and someone who the team values, because you make things lighter, even if he wasn’t sold on the idea of the smell of lavender being lathered around the entire tower.

Ava was quiet around you at first, she understood how you felt on a deep level, and she wasn’t sure how to interact with you. It wasn't that she didn't want too, she knew you where extremely nice, and she knew she could trust you, but she had just gone through so much, and didn't know how to branch out a connection to you.

Her pain from her memories was invisible, but it was constant and it was hard for her to articulate how she was feeling.

But then, one day while Ava was sitting on the couch you walked over to where she was sitting and offered her a small plant in a little pot. You softly muttered “If you hold it once it blooms, the flower will change based on your mood. So you don’t have to try to explain your emotions, I use it too sometimes. I know things can get rough sometimes."

And after that day, she knew she could trust you and find a great friend in you. Ava has said exactly once “If anything happens to her I’ll make it personal.” And no one doubted her on that fact.

You may have not been a part of the team originally, but you were ingrained in every inch of that tower now. From the way that the faint scent of lavender lingered in every room, to the plants and vines that littered the widows.

You weren’t just Bob and Yelena's girlfriend, and you weren’t just someone who happened to have powers. You were a part of the team, one of them and you were loved by everyone in their own way.

You’re the one who makes tea mixes for each person and leaves them in the kitchen with their names pasted on small containers. You make relaxation balms and leave them under their doors after especially rough missions. You’re the one who takes care of the Guinea Pig when everyone else is gone.

You never push when someones having a rough day, because you understand exactly what that's like. You just understand everyone in their own way, and you make everyone feel seen.

You may not throw punches or knives, but you are just as much a thunderbolt as any other person on that team. And they all would go to war if it meant making sure the light in the tower stayed bright.

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dashxero · 2 days ago

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Carmen Sandiego Redesign Project: Members of VILE

Over a week ago, I redesigned Carmen Sandiego because of a conversation I'd had at lunch. This past week, I'd gone about redesigning other members of VILE. These are my thoughts on each:

Carmen Sandiego:

When redesigning Carmen, I wanted her to look "actiony." I had to try really hard not to make her sexy. I did away with her trench coat in favor of a tek poncho, and figured that giving her a catsuit would add to the action-appeal I was going for. I gave the catsuit ninja toes to imply a swiftness of movement.

The Carmen Sandiego I'm envisioning here is not new to the game, but not quite heavily seasoned. Probably a few years out from having left ACME Detective Agency. Not quite at the level of stealing monuments, cities, and entire islands, but she's getting there.

Patty & Gren Larceny:

Redesigning Patty Larceny helped me figure out the ethos behind VILE in this head-fiction I've allowed to abscond with me. The members of VILE are all in it for the love of the game.

In doing research, I discovered that Patty was always a youngster (but back when I was a kid, I thought she was grown). Here, I decided to stick with that. I wanted to make a character whose first heist was the theft of her daddy's credit card, and she was never punished or scolded for doing so. Probably looks up to Carmen as a role model.

I imagine her as being a kleptomaniac proficient in sleight of hand - easily able to steal smallish objects. Likely a master of diversion tactics - which is where her dog, Gren, would come in. Patty carries Gren on her coat (it's faux fur - she has a conscience). Well, Patty probably carries everything in her coat. If she got hit or took a tumble, everything she'd stolen would likely fall out like Sonic's rings.

Vic The Slick:

Right away, I knew that I wanted to make Vic the Slick a bishonen. When blocking out the face, I noticed that he resembled Prince - so I leaned into it. Prince is the original bishonen after all. My mission was to make Vic the Slick fuckable. And I knew I succeeded when my moderator came into the stream while I was working on him, and said, "Oh, he can get it."

When designing Vic, I leaned into a couple of things I'd only tried in thumbnails for a client or two, but clients never really dug - for example, the high-waisted skinny slacks-turtle neck combo. I did away with his original color scheme in favor of something a little more modern. in order to add the "used car salesman vibes" back into the character, I gave him gold chains.

I imagine this Vic the Slick as VILE's fence and HUMINT specialist. A smooth talker. If there were a fight scene, he'd probably be scrambling around trying to get help from the other members of the crew.

Eartha Brute:

I think the most drastic changes I've made to any member of VILE has to be what I've done with Eartha Brute. I've essentially reimagined her as a former pro wrestler - likely a heel - who got sick of constantly having to "do the job" and was never pushed or given a title shot. She wears the prize of her first heist on her waist.

It was important to me that I retained some semblance of her original color scheme - the pink of her costume and the green highlights in her hair.

When designing her tattoo, I was initially worried because tattoo design isn't really my forte. But in this instance, it just kind of flowed.

I imagine Eartha as the muscle - someone you call in when something or someone big has to be moved. In my mind, she travels kind of like the Hulk. By leaping large distances.

Robo-Crook:

Robo-Crook, in this head-fiction, was a former mobster who was caught stealing/embezzling from his boss and operation, and nearly perished as a result. Science was able to save him? He uses his second chance at life to continue stealing whatever he can. For the love of the game.

Robo-Crook's accessories and pinstripe panels were things he probably requested to make him feel like he was dressed sharp and presentable.

I imagine he functions as the old wise member of the group who is also a tech specialist.

I also threw them all together to see if they fit. And they do. There. It's all out of my head. I can move on and continue my sculpt of Anura.

#carmen sandiego #redesign #fan art #Vic the Slick #Eartha Brute #Patty Larceny #Robo-Crook #VILE

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neurotica-tales · 2 days ago

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You Can’t Sing—But You’re Mine

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

You can’t sing. Not a little. Not even accidentally. Your voice cracks, your pitch is catastrophic, and every time you break into song, a dragon either flinches or flees. But do you stop? Of course not. You sing like no one’s listening—loud, proud, and catastrophically tone-deaf.

And somehow, that’s made you completely unforgettable.

To the villagers, you're a walking musical hazard. To the dragon riders? You're everything.

Hiccup winces through every note but would burn Berk to the ground if anyone dared mock you. Tuffnut treats your screechy ballads like ancient prophecy and insists you’re his banshee bride. Ruffnut memorizes your horrible lyrics like spells and threatens bodily harm to anyone who calls them "bad."

Snotlout thinks you’re his perfect duet partner from Valhalla and tries to out-sing you just to impress you. Fishlegs claims your voice is “raw and emotionally vulnerable,” all while blushing so hard he might combust. Astrid smiles through gritted teeth while sharpening her axe behind your admirers.

Even Dagur—Dagur the Deranged—hears you sing once and declares it the sound of destiny. (And potential bloodshed.)

And Toothless? He keeps showing up every time you hit your worst notes, watching you like you're hoarding gold.

You were just trying to make chores more fun. They heard a siren call meant for them alone. And now? They’ll make sure no one else gets to hear your voice—except them.

Off-key, unpredictable, and completely unhinged. Welcome to the symphony of obsession.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Up Next: Caught in the Net (Yandere Tuffnut), Marked By The Chief (Yandere Hiccup x Reader) [Soulmate AU]

If you liked this story, don't forget to also check out my other HTTYD Yandere Stories HERE!

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Hiccup

"You Sing Like a Dying Yak... But I Love It"

Hiccup heard it before he saw you.

That unmistakable warble echoing off the forge walls like a wounded dragon trying to yodel. You were belting out some local tune—if it could be called that—while scrubbing soot from a dragon saddle. Off-key. Off-tempo. Loud.

He flinched. Physically flinched. A rivet slipped from his fingers. Toothless gave him a concerned glance.

"Oof," Hiccup muttered under his breath, biting his tongue as you hit a note that sounded like a chicken being tackled mid-cluck.

It was bad. No—objectively bad. His ears curled. His soul curled. And yet…

There was this light in your eyes when you sang. Like the world didn’t matter. Like you weren’t trying to impress anyone. And that—that freedom—it destroyed him.

He leaned against the doorframe of the forge, trying to act casual as you twirled a wrench and launched into the chorus with zero pitch accuracy and even less shame.

“Hey,” someone whispered nearby, snickering. “Do they know they sound like that?”

The words barely left their mouth before Hiccup shot them a glare so sharp it could’ve sliced through dragonhide.

“Say that again,” he said, soft and sweet. Too sweet. The kind of voice that promised consequences. “Go ahead.”

The whisperer backed off fast.

Hiccup turned back toward you, watching as you dramatically hit another wrong note with a sweeping arm gesture like you were on stage at a Berkian opera.

He internally cringed again. Every nerve in his body screamed. But outwardly? He smiled.

Because no one else got to see you like this. And gods help anyone who thought they could laugh at you and live.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Toothless

“He Flinched… Then Nuzzled Closer”

You sang while you worked—terribly. Loud, off-key, and completely untrained. Your voice cracked like ice on the lake, and your tempo? Nonexistent. Every dragon in a ten-yard radius usually took off the moment you hit the chorus.

Except Toothless.

The first time he heard it, he flinched. Visibly. His ears pinned back, eyes wide like you’d just hissed in Dragonese. But you didn’t stop. You kept singing, sweeping the forge with the same oblivious joy, completely unaware that you sounded like a dying eel caught in a thunderstorm.

Toothless stayed. Watched. Cautiously inched closer.

By the third verse—still painfully off-pitch—he nuzzled your side with a low, rumbling purr. You smiled and scratched behind his ears, never once stopping your butchery of the song.

From that day on, he followed you everywhere.

When you sang, he curled around you. When others cringed or laughed, Toothless growled low and sharp—tail twitching, pupils narrowing.

He wouldn’t hurt anyone… not unless they hurt you. But if someone mocked your voice? Mocked the sounds that made you happy?

He’d remember.

Because to everyone else, your singing was awful. But to Toothless? It was yours. And that made it worth guarding with his life.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Tuffnut

“Your Voice Could Kill a Dragon—Marry Me?”

You were alone. Or so you thought.

Scrubbing soot off your boots near the dragon pens, you started humming. Then singing. Loudly. Badly. Off-key. You didn’t care—it helped you think. It helped you breathe.

What you didn’t know was that Tuffnut had been watching you for twenty minutes straight from inside a barrel.

He winced as you butchered the chorus for the third time, eyes wide in disbelief. “Oh gods, it’s worse than yesterday,” he whispered to himself… and then smiled.

He loved it. He hated that he loved it. But mostly—he loved that no one else did.

Because if anyone laughed at you? He’d launch a yak skull at their face.

You were chaos in musical form. A walking, warbling disaster. And to him, that made you perfect.

As you hit a screechy high note that made a nearby dragon flee, Tuffnut clutched his chest, smitten. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “Sing again, my little banshee bride.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Astrid

“You’re Off-Key... But You’re Mine”

Astrid was used to discipline. Order. Training. Her days were a rhythm of axe swings, drills, and clean hits—no surprises, no slip-ups.

Then she heard you sing.

It was supposed to be a quiet morning. You were alone near the edge of the village, stacking firewood while humming to yourself. But that hum turned into a full song—off-key, painfully off-tempo, and loud enough to make Stormfly tilt her head in confusion.

Astrid froze mid-step. Her brow twitched. Her grip on her axe faltered.

It was so bad. Like a dragon trying to speak human words while choking on a fishbone. But when she looked at you—eyes closed, swaying to your own rhythm, completely unaware—you looked… happy.

Free.

Vulnerable.

And hers.

You had no idea how dangerous your voice was—not because of what it did to others, but what it did to her.

If someone laughed, she'd shut it down with one look. If someone joked, they'd find her leaning on their shoulder with a blade between her fingers.

You were awful. Embarrassing. Off-key.

And no one else got to hear you like this.

No one would.

Because Astrid had already decided— You didn’t need to sound perfect. You just needed to stay close. And sing for her.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Ruffnut

“You Sound Like a Dying Eel... I’m Obsessed”

Ruffnut had heard a lot of horrible noises in her life. Screaming eels, vomiting dragons, Snotlout flirting—but nothingcompared to how you sang.

You were just working by the stables, humming at first, then breaking into full-blown, off-key shrieking. Loud. Proud. Absolutely tone-deaf.

Ruffnut had to bite her arm to keep from laughing out loud the first time. It was so bad. But then she caught herself smiling. Genuinely.

You didn’t care who heard. You sang like no one was watching. And that? That did something to her.

It was ugly. It was raw. It was you.

She started memorizing your favorite songs—every mangled verse, every butchered lyric. She’d repeat them when no one was around, trying to mimic the exact way your voice cracked on the high notes. It was like carrying a piece of you everywhere she went.

If anyone so much as snorted at your singing, Ruffnut would grin, walk over, and casually ask, “Oh? You think you're better? Cool. Let's test that—with weapons.”

You sounded like a dying eel in a thunderstorm. And Ruffnut was ready to burn down the village for you.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Snotlout

“You Butchered That Song… and My Heart”

You were belting out some horribly off-key song while sweeping outside the Great Hall—loud, proud, and totally unaware that you were absolutely wrecking the melody. Nearby dragons cringed. A sheep actually ran for cover.

Snotlout, meanwhile, leaned against a post with his arms crossed and a big, stupid grin on his face.

Was it awful? Yes. Did it sound like a walrus choking on seaweed? Also yes. But was it the hottest thing he’d ever heard? Absolutely.

You had confidence. You didn’t care who heard you. And to Snotlout, that was everything.

He swaggered up mid-verse, completely unfazed by the earsplitting note you just hit.

“Wow,” he said, smirking. “You just murdered that song. Want to murder my heart next?”

If anyone laughed at you, he'd throw a fit. “You think you can sing better? Please. You don’t even look that good holding a broom.”

You were terrible. He was worse. And together? He was already imagining your duet at the wedding.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Fishlegs

“You Sing Like a Dying Dragon... I Think I’m in Love”

Fishlegs froze when he heard it.

At first, he thought a dragon was in distress—maybe a Gronckle with a throat infection? But no… it was you. Singing. Loudly. Off-key. Painfully.

He peeked around the corner of the stable and found you scrubbing a saddle, completely lost in your own world as you sang your heart out like no one could hear you. Which was impossible. Everyone could hear you. He was pretty sure even the dragons across the island could hear you.

Fishlegs flinched as you hit a note that physically hurt. His Gronckle, Meatlug, winced too. But instead of running, he stayed. Clutching his notes. Blushing like mad.

It was awful. But it was you. And that made it perfect.

You weren’t trying to be impressive. You weren’t worried about sounding good. You were just… free. Real. Brave.

And to Fishlegs, that kind of authenticity was more beautiful than any symphony.

He started writing down the lyrics you sang—just so he could memorize them. Just so he could hear your voice in his head later.

If anyone so much as joked about your singing, he’d stammer out a defensive rant that somehow turned into a three-hour lecture on the emotional significance of Viking folk songs and why your interpretation was “unapologetically raw.”

You were a walking disaster of melody. And he was head-over-heels.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Dagur

“That Was Horrific… Do It Again”

Dagur had heard battle cries, death screams, and the howling of Berserkers mid-rampage—but nothing prepared him for the first time he heard you sing.

It was awful. A complete disaster. You were sharpening a blade on the deck of a ship, humming at first… then suddenly howling out a sea shanty so off-key, even the seagulls veered off course.

Dagur froze.

His eye twitched. His axe hand trembled. It was like being slapped in the face with a soggy fish. And yet… his heart raced.

Because who sings like that—that confidently, that loudly, that badly—and lives? Only someone fearless. Reckless. Perfect.

He clutched his chest, nearly breathless. “By the gods,” he muttered. “I’ve found her.”

From that moment on, he followed you. Everywhere. Just hoping to catch another live performance of whatever shrieking noise you called “music.”

Anyone who dared laugh? Gone. Missing. Whoops.

“Laugh at her again,” he’d whisper, grin stretching ear to ear, “and I’ll make a duet out of your screams.”

You sang like a dying walrus in a thunderstorm. And to Dagur? That was romance.

#male yandere #yandere httyd #yandere hiccup #yandere astrid #yandere tuffnut #yandere ruffnut #yandere snotlout #yandere fishlegs #yandere dagur

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