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𝙰𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚘𝚝

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𝙷𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚖𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢....𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚘.....𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍.

𝚂𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝚘𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜. 𝙷𝚎 𝚔𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍, 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍. 𝙼𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚍. 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢. 𝚁𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜, 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚔 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚎. 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢'𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚙𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍. 𝚂𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚣𝚊𝚕𝚐𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝙽𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚍𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 ��𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎..𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝. 𝚂𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚉𝚊𝚕𝚐𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.

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"𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝚗-𝚗𝚘- 𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩- 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝-𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗-𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩"

"𝚃𝚘𝚋𝚢!...𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝘳𝘨𝘩....𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎!"

"𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴....𝙿𝙻𝙴𝚊𝚜𝚎.....-𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩- ..𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝...𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝..."

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚒𝚍. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚊𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚣𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎. 𝚃𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚊𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚘𝚞𝚝. 𝙰𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚒𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗....𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜, 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚎.

𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎; 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚡-𝚟𝚒𝚛𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙, 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝. 𝙸𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚜.

𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎.

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𝚃𝚘𝚋𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚠...𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚜𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚎𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚛 𝚐𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚝.

"𝚒𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗....𝚒𝚖 𝚛𝚞𝚋𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚢....𝚒𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗..."

𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚗𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚑𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚎. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚢 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 ��𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜.

𝙸𝚗 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚝. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚓𝚊𝚠 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘��� 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚏𝚏, 𝚘𝚑 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚙𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍

𝙷𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚇-𝚅𝚒𝚛𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚖𝚎𝚝

"𝚑-𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚒-𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐?"

"...𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 '𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚜' 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚎...𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚛𝚞𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚍𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚑...."

"..𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚍...𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚎"

"𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚝....."

𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗

𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚣𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚔, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚜𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛.

𝚃𝚘𝚋𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎, 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚋𝚢, 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚗...𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚢𝚎. 𝚄𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎. 𝚁𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖, 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝. 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚍. 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚣𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚎, 𝚊 𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚑 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚣𝚢; 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚕.

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𝙷𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗, 𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚐𝚛𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚣𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚢𝚊𝚛𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚛𝚞𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚓𝚊𝚠 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍, 𝚜𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑

𝙷𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚜 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚝, 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚣𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚎𝚛𝚔 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎. 𝚃𝚘𝚋𝚢 𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚓𝚊𝚠 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏. 𝙷𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚡𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚘𝚠. 𝙷𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠.

𝙷𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚝. 𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝, 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎.

"𝘞𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘢𝘺...."

"𝘮𝘮-𝘮𝘮....𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰-𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦? 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢-𝘢-𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘴𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘦?"

"..𝘺𝘦𝘢..."

"...𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦"

"𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺.....𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘺"

"𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷-𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘺/𝘯..."

"...𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘰 𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵"

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ

[mellowsharkpolice]

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Start here

[kyoukorpse]

hands u this

i trust you'll take care of them

[starry-bi-sky]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[ominouspuff]

pulling strings

REQUESTS / BLOG EVENT

From @lunaemoth - request 2/2 - Palette#3 - Padme - Music stirs the soul

[tizeline]

Can you pls draw all of them in a turtle pile? I don’t think they’ve ever done one in this AU.

AUGH they've never TURTLE PILED OH GOD

TBF with all the family drama in the AU it probably takes them a while for them to do a proper pile with everyone included, which means the first time it happens is after the Krang invasion (which is why some of them are uhhh a little hurt lol) (Also would ya look at that, first time I've drawn Jr for the AU)

[stealingpotatoes]

Would Anakin and Padme have more kids after Luke and Leia? I can see the twin becoming overprotective of their younger siblings?

i don't think they would rlly -- partly bc the twins are enough for them but largely because:

[doctorsiren]

I also am working today with no one around. Could I have a Monster Hunter doodle? I love what your doing with that. I'd love to see more! Your art is so great. Thank you!

okay but what if…

[jezebelblues]

𝐓𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐀 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄 | 𝐇.𝐒 ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛 (𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭)

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬’ 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐂𝐖: smut18+ (piv) oral (f!receiving), softrry, drunkrry, needy!h, alcohol, fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 8k (I GOT CARRIED AWAY)

❏ before anyone anons me i made the gif 😧 and thank u for the request anon !! this was so fun to write :) i hope it met ur expectations

masterlist

harry was in the kitchen, holding a wine glass half-filled with straight tequila, his pinky finger looped over the rim like it was fine champagne. YN stood next to him, one hand on his arm, steadying herself—or maybe steadying him.

"you're a liability, you know that?" she giggled, her words slurring just enough to make him grin.

"me?" he huffed, leaning into her slightly, his drink sloshing dangerously close to the edge of the glass. "'m the liability? you've been clingin' to me all night, petal, can't walk straight without me."

she smacked his arm lightly, laughing. "it's 'cause you keep givin' me tequila! this is your fault."

he tilted his head, his eyes squinting like he was genuinely considering this. then he shrugged, nonchalant, dimples flashing. "s'pose you're right. but i reckon you love me for it, yeah?”

"love you despite it," she corrected, but she was smiling, her fingers curling into the sleeve of his shirt.

the flat was warm, soft yellow light spilling over cluttered corners and half-empty glasses, the air thick with laughter. it was the kind of late evening that felt like the exact middle of spring—windows cracked open, a cool breeze sneaking in, ruffling the edges of the curtains. someone had put on a playlist an hour ago, though the music had long since melted into the background, now just a hum beneath the chatter. the small group, crowded into the cozy living room, was exactly the right size to make the space feel alive but not cramped.

their flat always smelled faintly of cedarwood and something clean, though tonight it carried undertones of tequila and lime. he’d insisted on tequila because, as he explained with a wide grin and an unconvincing shrug, “s’just easier that way, innit?” no one really argued, though mitch had given a (poorly executed) rick sanchez imitation as a counter, something that harry didn’t quite understand, leaving him to furrow his eyebrows and dart his eyes around as he mulled it over, mumbling, “why are y’speaking like that? i don’t get it.”

now, hours later, harry was sprawled in the corner of the couch, long legs stretched out, a glass balanced precariously on his knee.

“i swear—i’m swearin’ right now—this is the last one.” he mumbled, lifting his glass as though making a toast. his speech was just a little slurred, the tips of his curls sticking to his temples. YN, perched beside him, nudged his side with her elbow, laughing.

“you said that half an hour ago, baby.” she teased, leaning closer to steal a sip from his glass. his free hand immediately looped around her waist, pulling her snug against his side.

“’s different this time,” he insisted, his voice dipping low, mock serious. “i mean it now. promise.”

“oh, you’re so convincing.” she smiled, her fingers absently running along the seam of his shirt, her touch light and familiar.

on the other side of the coffee table, mitch snorted, tipping his head back against the edge of the sofa. his hair, always a little unruly, had fallen out of whatever loose tie it had been in earlier. sarah, seated on the floor beside him with her legs crossed, nudged him in the ribs.

“you’re not much better,” she pointed out, gesturing to the glass in his hand.

“oi, don’t start,” he shot back, lifting a hand in mock defense.

the back-and-forth had been going on like this for the better part of the evening—easy, unfiltered, slightly nonsensical. everyone was comfortably slouched, shoulders loose, cheeks warm, the kind of drunk that makes the room feel like it’s spinning just the tiniest bit, but not enough to care.

harry had been stealing glances at YN all night, grinning at the way her nose crinkled when she laughed, her cheeks flushed from a combination of alcohol and the warmth of the room. she caught him staring at one point and poked his chest, her voice dropping conspiratorially.

“what are you looking at?”

“you.” he shrugged simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, blinking at her as if she was blurry and needed to come into focus.

YN rolled her eyes, though her smile gave her away. she parted her lips to speak, though harry cut her off before she could bother.

"you're all–” he gestured vaguely at her face, his voice lilting like he hadn't figured out the rest of the sentence yet. "and i'm���" another aimless wave of his hand, this time at himself.

"you're what?" she asked, tilting her head, the corner of her mouth twitching like she was trying not to laugh.

harry leaned closer, his knee brushing hers. his curls had started to flatten at his temples, damp from the heat of the room, and his cheeks were flushed in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “i’m in love.” his words were slightly sing-song, punctuated by the tilt of his head.

the room dissolved into chaos not long after, though no one could say for certain what triggered it. maybe it was the tequila. maybe it was just the kind of energy that builds when a group of close friends is together in one place, everyone feeding off the same shared sense of silliness.

“right,” mitch announced suddenly, sitting up straight and nearly spilling his drink in the process. “i bet—” he paused, frowning in concentration as though piecing the words together took effort. “i bet i could do more push-ups than you.”

he blinked, the challenge taking a moment to register. then his brows lifted, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“you’re jokin’, right?”

“nah, m’serious.” he leaned forward, setting his glass on the table with a decisive thunk.

“you’re both idiots.” sarah breathed, though she was already pulling her phone out, clearly ready to document whatever was about to happen.

YN groaned, burying her face in her hands. “please don’t encourage them.”

“what, you don’t believe in me?” harry asked, feigning hurt as he turned to look at her.

“you’ve had, like, seven shots of tequila, h.”

he held up a finger. “six. maybe five and a half.”

she looked at him, tongue in cheek, her eyes glimmering with amusement. “not helping your case.”

in the end, there was no stopping it. mitch had already shifted to his knees, clearing a space in front of the coffee table. harry followed suit, swaying slightly as he stood and then immediately dropping down to the floor.

“’s not fair, though,” harry slurred as YN slid a pillow beneath his fists. “i’ve got longer arms. more distance t’cover.”

“what kind of logic is that?” sarah asked, laughing.

“solid–“ hiccup “–solid logic.” he muttered, lowering himself into position.

for the first few push-ups, they were evenly matched. mitch, whose hair kept falling in his face, managed to hold his form pretty well, his elbows bending at clean angles. harry, despite the tequila, seemed entirely unbothered, his movements smooth and steady.

“oh, this is ridiculous,” YN mumbled, though she was grinning now, leaning forward with her chin resting in her palm.

“keep count.” mitch grunted, while sarah angled her phone to get both of them in the frame.

“seven,” YN called, her voice louder over the sound of their laughter.

“eight,” sarah chimed in.

“nine,” she smiled, though by this point, mitch was visibly struggling. his arms trembled, his breaths coming out in quick puffs, his hair falling into his mouth. harry, on the other hand, was still going strong, his movements punctuated by muttered comments.

“easy.” push. “light work.” push–hiccup. “this one’s for you, petal.” he added, shooting a quick wink at his girlfriend.

“oh my god.”

“thirteen,” sarah announced, though she sounded doubtful as mitch wobbled dangerously, his arms nearly giving out.

"how's he doin' that?" sarah asked, watching harry like he was some kind of anomaly.

harry started to strain just a bit, "core strength, love.”

"core strength my ass," mitch shot back, collapsing flat onto the floor. "he's built like a fuckin' slinky. bounces back."

YN laughed so hard she snorted, and harry immediately glanced up, his expression melting into something soft and dopey the second he saw her.

“i’m—i’m done.” mitch declared, already rolling over onto his back.

harry sat back on his knees, raising his fists in mock triumph. “and the crowd goes wild,” he said, grinning up at YN.

“you’re arrogant.” she sighed, though she reached for his wrist, tugging him back onto the couch beside her.

“what can i say,” harry mumbled, settling against her. “m’good at everything.”

the evening wound down slowly after that, the energy softening into something quieter, sleepier. sarah scrolled through the video on her phone, narrating bits of it for everyone’s amusement.

“look at mitch,” she said, laughing. “he looks like he’s dying.”

“i was dying,” mitch muttered from the floor, his arm thrown dramatically over his eyes.

YN reached for harry’s hand, threading her fingers through his, her voice low and teasing.

“are you proud of yourself?”

“very.” he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple.

and for a while, no one said much of anything. the playlist had shifted to something softer, the kind of music you hum along to without thinking. the tv, still on in the background, flickered faintly, casting shadows across the room. harry’s arm rested around YN’s shoulders, his eyes fluttered closed, his thumb drawing slow circles against her skin.

mitch was still on the floor, sprawled out like a martyr, while sarah waved her phone in his direction, wobbling as she stood.

"y'done, jesus christ?" she asked, her words swimming together in a way that made her laugh at herself. "need any help, or you reckon you'll just ascend back t'heaven on your own?"

“ha fuckin’ ha," mitch mumbled, lifting one hand in a weak attempt at a rude gesture. "perfectly fine, thank you."

"you're not," sarah replied, flopping onto the arm of the sofa. she nearly slid off, catching herself with a giggle before poking YN with her foot. "and neither's your fella."

YN glanced sideways at harry, who was leaning so far into her that she might as well have been holding him upright. his nose was tucked against her temple, and he was humming something under his breath—a soft, disjointed melody that might've been a song or might've been nothing at all.

"all good," he muttered, his words smudged around the edges. "better'n mitch, anyway."

"low bar.”

he opened one eye, a mischievous glint sparking through his drowsy expression as he glanced at mitch, then back toward YN. "m in love with you, y'know," he breathed, loud enough for the whole room to hear.

"we know.” mitch groaned from the floor.

"no, but like–” he pushed himself up slightly, though his movements were clumsy, his balance swaying like a tree in the wind. "like, really in love. like, proper. s’serious.”

“oh yeah?” she asked, though her hands flew to her cheeks, trying to cover the pink that bloomed there.

he reached out, his fingers fumbling to gently tug her hands away from her face. "don't hide from me," he pouted, his voice soft and warm. "can't handle it when you hide."

sarah made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan, shaking her head as she leaned over to prod mitch with her foot. "we need to leave before he gets worse," she said.

"worse? how can he get worse?" he replied, his voice muffled from where he was still sprawled on the rug.

harry didn't seem to notice them. he was focused entirely on YN, his gaze heavy and unflinching as he settled his head into her lap.

"you're so pretty," he hummed, his words slow and drawn out like he was tasting them for the first time. "have i told you that tonight?"

"a couple of times.”

"doesn't feel like enough.” he frowned, his fingers brushing against her knee like he was grounding himself in her. "you're... you're unreal. sometimes i look at you and i can't believe—" he trailed off, shaking his head like words weren't enough.

"he's gonna make me cry.” sarah whispered, half-laughing as she leaned into mitch's shoulder.

"you'll get used to it.” YN rolled her eyes, though she was still smiling.

harry frowned deeper, looking up at her. "don't roll your eyes at me. 'm being serious."

"oh, i know you are, dork.” she grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

his eyes fluttered shut at the touch, a small, pleased sound escaping his lips.

"if i don't call an uber now, i'm never getting out of here.” sarah said suddenly, sitting up and reaching for her phone.

"why would you wanna leave?" harry asked, turning his head to squint at her. "you're comfy. stay."

"gotta leave before this turns into a whole bloody soft-core," mitch muttered, finally pushing himself into a sitting position.

harry’s eyes narrowed in slight confusion, his lips parting as he whispered the word soft-core in different tones over and over as if it might click.

mitch let out a noise that was half a laugh, half a sigh. "you’ll get it eventually, mate.”

sarah stood, brushing off her jeans as she looked down at YN. "you gonna be alright with him?"

she glanced at her boyfriend, who was still nestled into her lap, mulling mitch’s response still. "he's harmless," she shrugged. "just annoying when he's drunk–”

harry interrupted with a sharp clap of his hands that turned into a point in mitch’s direction, shoulders shaking in slurred, squeaky laughter. “s-soft–core porno!” he giggled, his cheeks flushed and eyes crinkled. “that was a good one. this guy.”

mitch rolled his eyes, waving harry’s laughter off before he looked at YN. “have fun with this fool in the morning.”

"love you.” he mumbled immediately, moving his hand to give her thigh an exaggerated squeeze.

"yeah, yeah.” she laughed as she pried his hand off her.

"alright, we're off," sarah announced, grabbing mitch's arm and pulling him to his feet.

"safe travels! love you guys!” harry called weakly, his words slurring together as he waved at them from where he lay.

YN walked them to the door, leaning against the frame as they stepped out into the hallway.

"text me when you're home.” she insisted, earning a nod from sarah.

when she turned back into the flat, harry was sitting upright on the couch, his legs tucked under him like a kid waiting to be told a bedtime story.

he pouted slightly, "you left me.”

“and you lived!” she smiled, as if she was astonished. “my boy’s a survivor.”

"barely.” he groaned, flopping dramatically back against the cushions.

YN crossed the room and plopped down beside him, nudging his shoulder with hers. "you're so much worse than usual tonight."

"can't help it," he shrugged, his head tipping to rest on her shoulder. "you bring it out in me."

"oh, so this is my fault now?" she teased, her hand sliding into his hair again.

he only hummed an, “mhm,” before he tried to push himself closer toward her.

"stay here forever," he mumbled.

"i already live here," she reminded him.

"no, like—forever," he insisted, his fingers brushing hers where they rested on the couch. "promise you won't leave me. not ever."

YN turned her head to look at him, her heart twisting at the vulnerable expression on his face. “baby, where's this coming from?"

he shrugged, looking down at their hands. "just love you so much it scares me sometimes."

"i'm not going anywhere.”

"promise?"

"promise.” she whispered, leaning forward to press her forehead to his.

his breath hitched, and for a moment, they just stayed like that, the quiet settling around them like a blanket.

"alright," he breathed finally, his voice shaky but lighter now. "but you have to keep scratching my head or i'll revoke your girlfriend privileges."

the flat felt too quiet now that mitch and sarah were gone, the absence of their voices leaving only the faint buzz of the tv and the occasional sound of cars splashing through puddles outside. the mess of empty bottles and glasses scattered across the coffee table didn't seem to matter. nothing did, really. just him. just her.

harry's lips found hers eventually, and god, it was all so drunk and messy. the kind of kiss where his mouth didn't quite find the right angle, and she ended up laughing against him, her hands pushing gently at his chest.

"you're so bad at this," she teased, her words soft and slurred, her face warm with the alcohol coursing through her.

he pulled back just enough to look at her, his brows furrowing dramatically, lips parted in mock-offense. "bad at this? me?"

"yeah," she said, biting back another laugh. “you're awful. terrible. completely hopeless."

"hopeless?" he repeated, his accent thicker, vowels stretching and tangling together. his hands slid down her back, settling on her hips with a grip that was just firm enough to make her breath hitch. "you're sittin' with me, kissin' me, tellin' me i'm hopeless. 's'not very nice, is it?"

"maybe you deserve it.” she grinned, her forehead leaning against his.

he made a low, disbelieving sound in his throat, but his lips were twitching, caught somewhere between outrage and affection. "you're trouble, you are. absolute trouble."

"and you love it."

"fuckin' right, i do," he said, smiling as his hands tugged her hips forward slightly, pulling her more firmly into his lap.

the movement had her tumbling into him, her face pressed against his neck as they both laughed, a breathless, bubbling kind of laughter that only made her feel warmer. his breath tickled her ear as he spoke again, voice soft but tinged with that familiar teasing edge.

"bet i'm not that bad at it," he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just beneath her ear.

"you are, though," she insisted, but her voice was quieter now, a little unsteady.

"mm, don't think so," he hummed, his mouth trailing clumsily down her neck, his stubble rough against her skin. "reckon you'd've gone t’bed by now if i was, wouldn't you?"

her fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly at the curls at the nape of his neck. "reckon i'm too drunk to leave," she teased, but the way her voice caught on the last word betrayed her.

"nah," he said, one hand drifting under the hem of her shirt, his fingers brushing against her bare skin. "you're drunk, but not that drunk. you like me too much."

"you're so full of yourself," she whispered, laughing again, but it came out breathier this time, her body leaning into his touch without thinking.

he hummed, his thumb tracing slow circles over her side. "but y'don't seem t'mind."

she didn't. not one bit.

his lips found hers again, slower this time, a little steadier despite the alcohol making his movements clumsy. he kissed her like he had all the time in the world, like they weren't surrounded by a sea of half-empty glasses and the faint smell of tequila.

things felt hazy, lazier, punctuated by quiet giggles and the occasional whispered comment that sent them both into fits of laughter. his hands were warm and wandering, slipping under her shirt, tracing the curve of her waist, sliding up her back.

"you're gonna get me all tangled," she muttered when his hand accidentally caught the hem of her bra, tugging it sideways.

"oops," he said, grinning sheepishly, his fingers clumsily fixing it. "sorry, petal. too drunk f’precision, aren't i?"

"you're too drunk for a lot of things," she teased, leaning forward to press a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"uh-uh," he murmured, his hands settling on her hips again, adjusting them roughly, sloppily as he shifted her back to rest against the cushions. "not for this. not for you."

her chest tightened at the way he said it, his voice soft and so full of affection that it made her feel like the center of the universe.

the couch creaked under their combined weight, and harry was leaning too far into her, half on top of her, his body slumped and heavy in that jellied, boneless way. his mouth was pressed to her neck, leaving messy kisses between murmured half-thoughts, most of which didn't even make sense. '…m’tellin' you," he mumbled, his lips brushing against her skin. "you're too beautiful for your own good. s'gonna be a problem f’me."

"a problem?" she repeated, laughing breathlessly as her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, trying to steady him. "harry, you're literally falling over."

"no m’not," he insisted, though his weight shifted again, and his elbow slipped off the armrest. he caught himself just in time, his hand landing somewhere between the cushion and her thigh.

"you are!" she laughed a bit harder now, her body shaking with it.

he looked at her, all wide, glassy green eyes and flushed cheeks, his hair a mess of curls that kept falling into his face. "i’m not," he said again, grinning in that slow, drunk way that made her heart trip over itself.

then, as if to prove his point, he leaned in closer, nudging her chin with his nose before kissing her again, clumsily and so, so sweet.

"har–” she started, but she barely got the word out before his knee slipped, and suddenly he was gone, tumbling sideways off the couch.

it happened so fast she didn't even have time to grab him. one second, he was on her, warm and heavy and everywhere, and the next, he was on the floor in a heap of gangly limbs and laughter.

"jesus,” she gasped, leaning over the edge of the couch to look at him.

but harry wasn't upset. not even a little bit. he was lying on his back, laughing so hard his eyes squeezed shut, his chest heaving with it.

she covered her face with her hands, though she couldn't stop laughing either. "you okay?"

"all good.” he said through his laughter, his voice a little high-pitched from how breathless he was.

he rolled onto his side, one hand braced on the floor, the other wiping at his face as he grinned up at her. "just... miscalculated. s'all."

"think that’s an understatement, baby.” she shook her head as she sat up on the cushions, still giggling.

“see?” he pushed himself up to his knees with a dramatic groan, "you’re too gorgeous for me t'function right now."

she watched him, her laughter softening into a fond smile as he sat back on his heels, looking up at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

his hands, big and clumsy but warm, found her knees, gently pushing them apart as he shifted closer, his breath still unsteady from laughing.

"harry,” she murmured, a little breathless now, her voice caught somewhere between a laugh and a warning.

he shushed her, his fingers brushing up her thighs, just barely slipping under the hem of her shorts. "just…lemme,”

"lemme what?" she asked, though her body was already responding to him, her knees falling wider apart.

he grinned, tilting his head to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of her thigh. "taste you," he slurred, his voice low and warm and so full of affection that it made her toes curl. "s’been all i can think about."

her tummy flipped, and she bit her lip, her fingers curling into the edge of the couch cushion. "you’re too drunk for this."

he shook his head, pressing another kiss to her thigh, this one a little higher. "no, m’not. i’m exactly drunk enough. look–” he gestured vaguely at himself, nearly losing his balance before catching himself on her leg. "perfectly steady."

she couldn't help it—she laughed, her head tipping back against the couch as she looked down at him.

his hands slid farther up her legs, feather-light and teasing, enough to make a heat pool between her thighs, harry gazing up at her through his eyelashes.

she tried to say something, but the words got caught in her throat as he leaned forward, his face so close now, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. the heat of him, the desperation in his touch, sent a shiver racing up her spine.

"baby–” she breathed, her voice softer now, less sure.

his eyes were hazy but so full of love it made her chest ache. "please," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, something that sounded dangerously close to a whimper. "lemme taste it, yeah? promise i’ll be good."

her breath hitched, and for a moment, all she could do was nod, her hands trembling slightly as they moved to his hair.

"yeah, petal?” he asked, his grin widening, and the sheer joy in his expression made her heart feel like it was going to burst.

“yeah.”

his hands were unsteady, but they were so careful, so sure of their purpose as they slid further up her thighs, the soft cotton of her shorts bunching under his fingertips. he was still grinning like an idiot, lips hovering just above her skin, his curls brushing against her as he peppered sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of her leg. "you're so soft," he mumbled, voice muffled against her thigh, his words sticky with alcohol and affection.

"it feels good.” she whispered back, her hands carding through his curls, tugging gently when his teeth scraped just a little too hard.

"you love me?” he asked, turning his head to rest his cheek against her, blinking up at her like a puppy who'd just been caught making a mess.

her fingers stilled in his hair as he looked up at her, all wide, glassy green eyes and flushed cheeks, his lips parted slightly as he waited for her answer. she bit her bottom lip, feeling the words catch in her throat as she stared down at him.

"you already know i do.” she murmured, her voice soft and shaky, her hands sliding down to cup his face. her thumbs brushed over his cheeks, his skin warm beneath her touch.

"say it, though," he slurred, a little whiny now, his lips forming into a slight pout.

"i love you, h.” she whispered, her voice trembling but firm, and his expression softened immediately, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his face into her palm.

"love you too," he muttered, almost too quiet for her to hear, though his words were followed by a sloppy kiss to the inside of her wrist, his lips warm and soft against her skin.

and then, without missing a beat, his mouth was back on her thigh, moving higher with a desperation that had her legs trembling.

"smell so fuckin' good," he muttered, his voice muffled against her skin. his hands slid up to the waistband of her shorts, fumbling slightly as he tugged at the fabric. "need these off, petal. lemme see you."

her breath caught in her throat, her cheeks flushing as she lifted her hips slightly, helping him ease the shorts down her legs. his hands were uncoordinated, tugging too hard at one side and almost making her laugh, but the intensity in his expression stopped her. he was looking at her like she was something sacred, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he pushed the shorts off and tossed them aside.

"you're s’beautiful," he said, his words slurring together as his hands settled on her thighs again, his thumbs stroking the soft skin there. "you know that? d'you even know?"

"you're drunk.”

"no such thing," he muttered, shaking his head as he leaned in, his lips brushing over her panties. "could be fuckin' blackout and i'd still want you more than anything. always want you, YN."

she couldn't help it—she whimpered, the sound surprising even herself as her fingers slid into his hair again, tugging gently to pull him closer.

he looked up at her with that soft, pleading expression that made her heart stutter. "gonna let me?”

her voice caught in her throat, and all she could do was nod, her fingers tightening in his curls as he grinned, his dimples flashing even in his drunken haze.

"that's m’girl," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her hip before hooking his fingers under the waistband of her panties and sliding them down.

the cool air made her shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his mouth, the way he pressed soft, deliberate kisses to the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, working his way higher.

he let out a breathy laugh as he settled between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs to hold her steady. "smell like heaven. taste like it too, i bet."

she whimpered, her head tipping back against the couch as his tongue flicked out, the first slow, teasing stroke making her whole body jolt.

he groaned against her, the sound vibrating through her, and she couldn't hold back the moan that spilled from her lips, loud and unrestrained.

"that's it," he sighed, his voice muffled as his tongue moved against her clit, his hands tightening on her thighs. "that's m’good girl. so sweet for me."

his words were slurred and incoherent, broken up by the way he licked and sucked at her pussy like she was spilling honey, like he couldn't get enough.

her hands clutched at his hair, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as her legs trembled on either side of his head.

his tongue swirled and flattened against her until her hips bucked more than once, a shaking mess in his hands as he pulled her closer to his mouth—so close he could drown in her (not that he’d mind).

“fuck–” she moaned, a shaky exhale leaving her lips as he dipped lower, his tongue flicking against her hole, sloppy and eager.

he hummed against her, the sound low and rough and completely unselfconscious, like he couldn't help but lose himself in her. "could stay here forever," he muttered, his lips moving against her like a prayer. "live here. die here. s'worth it."

his hands gripped her thighs tighter as she let out the lightest giggle from his words, pulling her closer, spreading her wider. he kissed her deeper, his tongue sliding into her, slow and deliberate and so desperate it made her chest ache.

her breath hitched, her legs trembling on either side of his head, and he groaned like she was the best thing he'd ever tasted, like he couldn't get enough. "god, you're so good," he slurred, his voice unsteady as he pulled back just enough to look up at her, his lips slick and swollen. "so, so good, YN. d'you even know? fuckin' perfect, petal. can't believe you're mine."

the rest of his words melted into incoherent sounds, soft groans and murmured praise that blended with her own breathy moans as he delved back in to lap at her, circling her clit like it was the only thing that mattered.

her head tipped back, her body arching into his touch as he dragged her closer and closer to the edge, his movements clumsy but so desperate, so full of love that it made her chest ache.

when she came, it was sudden and all-consuming, her body shaking as she cried out, her moans spilling into the quiet room like music. harry didn't stop, his hands holding her steady as his tongue worked her through it, his own groans muffled against her as though he was enjoying every second as much as she was.

when her body finally stilled, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps, he pressed one last soft kiss to her inner thigh before leaning back, his face flushed and glistening, his grin wide and satisfied.

harry shifted up the couch with all the determination of a man who was too drunk to move properly but too stubborn to let that stop him. his arms framed either side of her, his body hovering as best he could, though it was more of a slow collapse than anything elegant. he grunted softly as he settled his weight, pressing her deeper into the cushions, their bodies flush in a way that made both of them shiver despite the warmth of the room.

she let out a quiet laugh, breathless against the way his curls brushed against her face, sticking to his damp forehead. he huffed at the sound, lips tugging into a sloppy grin before pressing them clumsily to hers. the kiss was slow and sweet at first-warm and gentle, his mouth barely brushing against hers like he was trying to memorize the feeling.

but then she shifted slightly beneath him, her fingers curling into his sides, and it was like something broke loose in him. the kiss deepened, messy and urgent, all soft gasps and the taste of tequila lingering on his lips. he kissed her like he was starved for it, as if every second that passed without her mouth on his was unbearable.

his hands roamed her body as if he didn't know where to settle, tugging at her waist, smoothing over her thighs, curling under her back like he needed to feel every part of her. his hips pressed against hers instinctively, and he groaned into her mouth, the sound loud and unfiltered as he broke the kiss just long enough to catch his breath, his forehead falling to hers.

harry looked down at her, his eyes blown wide, his chest rising and falling rapidly. he tried to push himself up further, but his movements were clumsy, his arms wobbling under his own weight. she couldn't help the soft laugh that escaped her lips, and he scrunched his face into a dramatic pout, shaking his head slightly like a sleepy puppy.

his hands fumbled at the hem of his jeans, tugging once before stopping completely, his shoulders sagging. he groaned softly, his head dropping to her shoulder with an audible thud.

"bloody things," he mumbled against her skin, though the words were barely coherent.

she smiled softly to herself, her hands sliding up his back, her fingers brushing over the waistband where he'd given up.

gently, she nudged at his hips, wordlessly guiding him upward until he sat back on his knees, his hands resting heavily against her thighs for balance. his breathing was heavy, his cheeks flushed pink, his curls damp against his forehead.

there was a quiet kind of helplessness in the way he looked at her then—needy and desperate, his lips parted, his brows furrowed slightly like he couldn't figure out how to do this on his own. she didn't make him ask.

her hands moved to the button of his jeans, quick but careful as she popped it open. he let out a soft, shaky exhale as she tugged the zipper down, his body trembling just slightly under her touch. the denim caught on his hips as she tried to push it down, and harry huffed again, adjusting his weight clumsily to help her pull the fabric free.

"lift," she murmured softly, and he obeyed without hesitation, planting his hands firmly on either side of her hips and raising his body just enough to let her drag the jeans down.

he collapsed back onto his knees with a relieved groan as the fabric pooled around his legs, his head tipping back, his chest rising and falling like he'd just run a marathon. she reached for the waistband of his boxers next, her movements slower this time, deliberate, her fingers brushing against the bare skin of his hips as she slid the fabric down.

his breath hitched at the contact, and he swayed slightly, his hands curling into the cushions beside her for balance. for a moment, he just stared down at her, his expression soft and hazy and so full of need that it made her stomach flip.

"there," she whispered softly, her hands moving to rest against his thighs, steadying him.

harry blinked slowly, his eyes dragging over her face as if he were seeing her for the first time. then, without a word, he leaned back down, his body pressing hers into the cushions again as his lips found hers.

the kiss was desperate now, sloppier than before, their teeth bumping together as they both tried to breathe and laugh through it. his hands slid beneath her, wrapping around her back like he was holding her in place, his chest pressing firmly to hers with every ragged breath.

he just rocked against her instinctively, his movements uncoordinated but eager, drawing a quiet gasp from her lips. harry groaned softly in response, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his lips brushing against her skin as he muttered something incoherent.

his body was heavy against hers, his warmth and weight overwhelming, but there was something grounding in the way he held her, in the quiet hum of his breathing against her neck. she threaded her fingers into his hair, stroking softly at the curls, and he shivered, his hips pressing closer against hers with a whimper that he didn't bother trying to hold back.

"feel so good," he murmured, his voice muffled and thick, each word dripping with need. "fuckin—love you. need–need to be inside.”

her chest ached at the way he said it, so raw and honest, and she pulled him closer, their bodies tangling together in the dim light of the flat. harry kissed her again, his hands curling around her waist, holding her like she was the only thing keeping him steady.

he was desperate and clumsy, but god, he was hers. every part of him, hers.

harry moved in desperation, his body heavy and warm against hers as he lined himself up, his forehead pressing to hers. his breathing was ragged, sharp exhales mingling with hers, their chests rising and falling in time. every movement he made was tinged with an uncoordinated eagerness, like he couldn't bear to wait any longer.

he pushed in slowly at first, a groan catching in his throat as he sank into her dripping cunt, his hands gripping at her waist, rough and unsteady.

her body arched instinctively beneath him, her breath hitching as the stretch of his cock pulled a quiet gasp from her lips.

he froze for a moment, his chest pressed to hers, his arms trembling just slightly from the effort of holding himself up. it was like the sensation alone had shattered him, that raw, shaky pause where the world stopped and all that was left was her.

a shaky exhale escaped him, his lips brushing against her cheek as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. he groaned low and drawn-out, the sound muffled against her skin, his grip on her hips tightening as though he was trying to catch his breath.

he started to move, slow and unsteady, his hips rocking forward with a rhythm that was anything but precise—clumsy and needy but so full of need it didn't matter. every thrust drove him deeper into her velvety walls, his body trembling with the effort, soft curses slipping from his lips as he moved.

his weight pressed her further into the cushions, the creak of the couch mixing with the faint, unrestrained sounds escaping them both—her breathless moans, his whiny, broken groans, sounds neither of them were capable of stifling. everything felt louder in the quiet of the flat, the slow slap of skin against skin, the occasional sharp intake of breath when he hit just the right spot.

her hands slid up his back, her nails scraping lightly against his skin, and harry's body jolted in response, his thrusts faltering. he let out a choked whimper, his face still buried in her neck, his lips pressing sloppy kisses against her skin between ragged breaths.

"fuck," he groaned into her ear, though the word wasn't clear, his voice so shaky and low it dissolved into nothing.

he shifted slightly, adjusting his angle, and the next thrust pulled a gasp from her lips—a sharp rut right against the spongy spot where she felt him the most.

her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him closer, and harry groaned again, his movements growing rougher, needier.

his arms shook where they braced against the cushions, his entire body trembling from the effort as he picked up his pace, the steady slap of his hips against hers becoming louder, more insistent. there was no rhythm to it, no finesse—just harry losing himself in her, fucking into her like he'd come undone, like his body couldn't stop itself from chasing the feeling of her pussy wrapped around him.

his curls brushed against her cheeks, damp with sweat, his breath hot and uneven as he nuzzled into her neck. the sounds he made were broken now—small, helpless whines and whimpers escaping him between harsh, ragged breaths.

her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging softly, and his whole body stuttered in response, his hips driving forward with a sharp snap that had her gasping, her voice loud and unrestrained. the sound pulled another whine from him, his hands slipping from her hips to drag up her sides, his thumbs stroking over the curve of her waist, up toward the swell of her tits, the sensitive bud that tightened with his touch.

the couch creaked with every frantic movement, the room filled with the echo of their ragged breaths and soft cries. harry's body never stilled, his thrusts erratic and desperate, his chest pressed tightly to hers their sweat-slicked skin sticking together.

his body tensed as he started to lose control, his pace faltering, his movements turning jerky and uneven. his arms gave out then, and he collapsed on top of her, his forehead pressing against her shoulder as his hips snapped into her, over and over, his entire body trembling.

her breath caught, her back arching as the pressure built between them, everything else blurring into the background—nothing but the feeling of his cock, the sound of him, the weight of him.

and then she felt him shudder, a broken groan ripping from his throat as he buried himself deep, the twitch of his length as he spilt himself inside her, his entire body going rigid. he trembled against her, his hands clutching at her waist as though holding on for dear life, his voice dissolving into breathless whimpers against her neck.

harry didn't pull away, didn't move. he stayed draped over her, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his face still buried in her neck. his hands smoothed over her sides, shaking slightly as he traced soft, lazy patterns against her skin, grounding himself in the warmth of her.

the silence settled over them slowly, the only sound left in the room their breathing, loud and uneven as they both came down. harry pressed a kiss to her shoulder-soft, tender, nothing like the desperation from moments before.

"fuck," he mumbled finally, his voice hoarse and muffled. "m’addicted to your pussy. swear it."

she let out a soft, breathless laugh, her hands still tangled in his hair as she scratched lightly at his scalp. his whole body relaxed at the motion, a quiet, contented sigh escaping him as he melted further into her.

they stayed tangled together on the couch for a while, the quiet hum of the flat settling around them, their breathing slowly evening out. harry didn’t move much—just shifted enough to nuzzle his face further into her neck, pressing soft, lazy kisses to her skin like he couldn’t quite help himself. her fingers carded through his hair, slow and steady, the repetitive motion lulling him into a contented daze.

“you comfortable there?” she murmured, her voice soft, muffled slightly by the way her cheek pressed against the curls at his temple.

“mmh,” he hummed, the sound low and heavy. “too comfortable. can’t move.”

“i’m not carrying you to bed,” she teased, her lips curving into a tired smile.

he let out a quiet groan, a sound so dramatic it made her laugh softly, her body shaking beneath him. he lifted his head slowly, resting his chin against her chest as he blinked up at her, his green eyes sleepy and glassy.

“‘s not fair, you’re too pretty,” he mumbled, grinning softly. “don’t wanna leave you here.”

“stuck with me either way, baby.” she whispered, brushing his curls back from his face, her fingers lingering at his temple.

his smile softened at that, his eyes fluttering shut briefly as he leaned into her touch. then, with an exaggerated sigh, he pushed himself up, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated.

“alright,” he said, though his voice was still thick with sleep and leftover drunkenness. “bedtime. c’mere.”

before she could protest, his arms were already curling around her, one under her knees and the other cradling her back as he lifted her off the couch.

“harry—” she gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders as her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. “you’re gonna drop me.”

he scoffed at that, shaking his head as he adjusted his grip, pulling her closer against him. “m’gonna pretend i didn’t hear that.”

she sighed into him, letting her cheek rest against the crook of his shoulder as he carried her across the room, his bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floor. her fingers slid into his hair again, stroking gently, and he let out a quiet, pleased hum at the sensation.

he moved slowly, carefully, his steps deliberate despite the weight of the tequila still sitting in his veins. he was headed toward the bedroom, but as he passed the kitchen, something caught his eye.

a glass—half full of tequila, a lone lime slice floating lazily in the liquid.

harry paused mid-step, his arms tightening around YN to keep her secure as he turned his head, squinting at the glass like it had personally called his name.

“oh, for god’s sake,” she muttered, though her voice was warm and amused, her fingers still playing with the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

harry ignored her, shifting her weight slightly to free one hand, his arm still wrapped firmly around her waist. with the other, he reached for the glass, his movements slow and exaggerated, like he was performing a high-stakes maneuver.

“i can’t believe you,” she said, her laughter muffled by his shoulder.

“can’t leave it there,” he replied, lifting the glass to his lips and draining it in one go. the tequila burned down his throat, and he winced slightly, his face scrunching up before he set the empty glass back on the counter with a quiet clink.

“all better now?” she teased, tilting her head slightly to glance up at him.

“much.” he grinned widely, bunny teeth and dimples as he adjusted his grip on her again, turning back toward the bedroom.

he carried her the rest of the way, nudging the bedroom door open with his foot before stepping inside. the room was dimly lit by the streetlights filtering through the curtains, casting faint, golden shadows over the rumpled sheets and pillows.

harry eased her down onto the bed, following after her almost immediately, collapsing onto the mattress with a soft groan. she laughed as he pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her waist as he buried his face in her neck again, his legs tangling with hers.

“this is where i’m stayin’,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against her skin.

“good,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head, her fingers brushing through his curls again.

they settled into the bed together, the weight of the night pulling them under like a blanket, warm and heavy and sweet. harry’s breathing slowed, his arms still tight around her as if he was afraid she might slip away in the dark.

“love you,” he murmured, the words barely audible, slurred with sleep.

“love you too,” she whispered back, her voice soft as her eyes fluttered shut, her hand still tangled in his hair.

[surielstea]

Undercover Affection

Based on a request!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: While on a mission with Azriel, you must pretend to be a couple. During which it’s revealed that Azriel and you are mated.

Warnings: none (that I know of)

A.Note: After a month of ghosting you guys I’m finally back!! And with a fic I’m very proud of so I hope you guys enjoy!!

7.9k word count.

The instructions had been simple enough: "Blend in, gather information, and avoid getting caught." But for some reason, Rhysand had thought it necessary to throw in an extra condition—one Azriel seemed to want to claw his way out of.

"I work alone." The shadow singer gritted through his teeth, shadows billowing over his impressively sized wings.

"Not for this mission, you won't." The High Lord immediately dismisses him, not batting an eye at the male who perhaps every other fae in Prythian was terrified of.

"She's not ready, she'll be a distraction." Azriel counters. A foreign part of you panged with disappointment at that. Did he really find you so incompetent?

Rhys argues back immediately, his anger beginning to ramp up to meet Azriel's and you quickly decide you didn't want to be anywhere near when they collided. "You told me yourself just last week she's the best spy you've ever trained."

Your eyebrows lift a fraction at what Rhys had unconsciously confessed, the barest reaction but enough for the shadow singer to pick up on. His hazel eyes flicked to your own gaze, then back to Rhysand's.

They seemed to be having a conversation, one you couldn't hear. You doubted you'd ever get used to that, the way Rhys could slip into someone's mind—even someone as guarded as Azriel. A shiver went down your spine as you thought about the power of the High Lord of Night.

"You have to be out of your mind if you think I'll ever put her in that kind of danger." Azriel seethed to his brother through the mental connection, unable to even fathom the idea of you having a target on your back.

"She may be your mate but she is also your disciple, did you seriously think she'd never go out into the field?" Rhys could sense his anger, feel it ebbing against a shield that was thinning.

"I only taught her spy work so she'd know how to protect herself—never to put her in harm's way," Azriel says, his frustration making his voice sound almost pleading.

"Then you know she can protect herself. You will be beside her every step of the way, what she wants to do is entirely her decision." Rhys remarks.

"And what if the bond snaps? It could jeopardize the mission—much more, her safety." Azriel poses, the scenario would make all hell break loose in all situations.

"Are you implying you can't keep her safe?" Rhys taunts, the words finding their mark in the Spy Masters head.

You watch their expressions closely, attempting to pick up on what they were saying but the only reaction you could spot was the way Azriel's jaw feathered as he pushed off Rhysand's desk and turned to me.

"Do you think you're ready for this?" There was a certain softness in his eyes you only got rare glimpses of, the sight making you swallow hard.

Your throat felt tight, but you straightened your shoulders and lifted your chin. "I am." Your voice didn't waver, though the intensity of his hazel eyes made it a near thing.

Rhys sighed, leaning back in his chair as he surveyed you both with a calculating air. The quiet smile tugging at his lips felt almost dangerous like he already knew the outcome of a game you hadn't even realized you were playing.

"The ball," he began, voice smooth, "is being hosted by High Fae whose loyalty to Prythian is questionable at best. Whispers suggest they're courting alliances with forces hostile to Velaris. If true, this could be the first move toward rebellion."

He slid a detailed sketch across the desk. The male's sharp features and cold, calculating eyes etched into the paper made your stomach tighten. Rhys's voice remained steady as he continued. "Kaieel is the orchestrator. We need names, allies, plans—anything we can use to dismantle his efforts before they gain traction. The masks and secrecy of the event work in our favor. You'll attend, blend in with the crowd, and leave no trace of your presence."

"And our cover?" you asked, though you weren't sure you wanted the answer.

Rhys's lips twitched. "Newlyweds."

The single word hit you like a jolt of lightning. Your heart stumbled, catching somewhere between shock and disbelief. "A couple?" you uttered, trying to keep your voice even.

"A young pair enamored with each other and blissfully distracted. The perfect cover." Rhys's eyes sparkled with mirth, though his tone was all business. "An unattached male draws suspicion. A pair in love does not."

Azriel didn't react outwardly, but his silence spoke volumes. You risked a glance at him, finding his gaze fixed somewhere distant. Was the idea truly so unbearable to him?

"The priority," Rhys continued, "is information. If your cover is compromised, you extract yourselves immediately. But until then, you'll need to act the part—dancing, whispering... perhaps even a kiss or two, if the situation calls for it."

"Rhys," Azriel growled, low and lethal.

Rhys only smirked, clearly enjoying his brother's discomfort. "Relax, Az. You might even have fun. Any questions?"

You shook your head, pulse hammering. The mission was simple in theory, but with Azriel by your side—close enough to feel his warmth, to brush against the bond neither of you had spoken of—it felt like you were stepping into something far more dangerous than a ballroom full of enemies.

"Good," Rhys said, dismissing you both with a wave. "You leave at dusk."

Azriel turned abruptly, the tension in his wings a visible reminder of the storm brewing within him. As he stalked toward the door, you followed, already bracing yourself for the days to come.

Whatever lay ahead, one thing was clear: the mission wouldn't just test your skills as a spy—it would test every fragile boundary you and Azriel had built between the two of you.

—

You smoothed your hands down the fabric of your gown, the soft, luxurious material clinging perfectly to your frame before pooling at your feet. It was a deep shade of midnight grey, almost black, designed to shimmer as if it were the color of the moon itself, glimmering silver in the right lighting. The neckline dipped just enough to be daring without crossing into scandalous, and the fitted bodice accentuated every curve. The gown was a far cry from the shadowy leathers you had grown accustomed to during training.

Your fingers brushed over the mask lying on the vanity before you. It was delicate, intricate silver filigree adorned with tiny crystals that caught the light to match my dress. The sight of it alone made your stomach twist with nerves, though you refused to let the feeling take hold. You were a spy, not some jittery debutante.

Focus.

Your gaze shifted to the mirror as you adjusted the gown again, letting out a slow breath. The transformation was undeniable; the person staring back at you looked like they belonged at this kind of event. For a moment, you barely recognized yourself, and that unfamiliarity was almost reassuring. If you didn't recognize yourself, maybe no one else would either.

The soft knock at the door startled you. You turned, calling out, "Come in."

The door creaked open, and Azriel stepped inside, closing it behind him with deliberate care.

Your breath was stolen from your lungs at the sight of the Shadow Singer.

He wore an all-black suit that looked as though it had been tailored specifically for him—and knowing the resources of the Night Court, it probably had. The sharp lines of the jacket emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, and the subtle sheen of the fabric only added to the air of elegance that clung to him. His wings were glamoured away, leaving no trace of their presence—which was upsetting, but it was his eyes that made up for it—those piercing hazel eyes, framed by long lashes that truly captured your attention. They swept over you in a single, assessing glance, and you swore you caught the faintest flicker of surprise before his features smoothed into their usual calm.

"You look..." His voice trailed off, and for once, he seemed at a loss for words.

"Like I'm about to infiltrate a ball filled with potential traitors to Velaris?" you offered lightly, trying to break the tension that had settled in the room.

"I was going to say beautiful, but that works too," he said simply, his voice low and even. The words sent a strange warmth curling through your chest, though you quickly buried it.

Azriel crossed the room, the measured grace of his movements a reminder of the lethal precision he carried with him always. He stopped just in front of you, holding out his hand. "Your mask."

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before handing it to him. His gloved fingers brushed against yours as he took it, and you were acutely aware of how close he was as he moved behind you.

The brush of his knuckles against your temple sent a shiver down your spine as he adjusted the mask, tying the soft ribbons at the back of your head with deft fingers. His scent—night-chilled mist and cedar—wrapped around you, a quiet distraction that made it hard to focus.

"There," he murmured, adjusting your hair around the ribbon before stepping back just enough for you to turn and face him. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment, and you wondered if he could sense the way your pulse quickened.

"You clean up well," you said, tilting your head slightly. "Almost didn't recognize you without all the shadows."

He raised a brow, a hint of amusement flickering across his face. "You'll have to forgive me for not returning the compliment."

Your lips twitched. "And why's that?"

"Because if I did, we'd be here all night," he replied smoothly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a rare, fleeting smile.

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected flirtation. Azriel's humor was subtle, almost elusive, but when it surfaced, it always left you reeling.

Before you could find a response, you remembered the last detail. "Oh, wait." You turned back to the vanity, retrieving the small box you'd nearly forgotten. Inside were two rings—simple, elegant bands meant to complete your cover as a married couple.

You slipped one onto your finger, the cool metal fitting perfectly, the sapphire stone placed atop it glimmering in the sunsetting light. You hold out the other to him. "Rhys gave them to me, for authenticity," you said, keeping your tone light despite the awkwardness that had crept into the air.

Azriel's gaze dropped to the ring in your hand, his expression unreadable as he took it. For a moment, you thought he might protest, but instead, he slid it onto his finger with careful precision.

He slipped it onto his finger without breaking eye contact, the deliberate slowness of the action making your heart race. "There," he said, holding his hand up to examine the ring. "How do I look as your doting husband?"

You took a step back, pretending to assess him with a critical eye. "Hmm, you'll pass—just barely. Try smiling a little more. You're supposed to be madly in love with me, remember?"

Azriel leaned in slightly, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement. "If I smile too much, they'll think I've lost my mind."

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. "Fair enough."

He reached out then, his hand brushing yours as he straightened an imaginary crease in the sleeve of your gown. The touch was fleeting but enough to send warmth creeping up your neck. When he pulled back, the air between you was thick with unspoken tension.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice soft but steady.

You nodded, grabbing the silver clutch from the vanity and looping it over your wrist. "As I'll ever be."

Azriel extended his arm, a rare gesture that made your lips twitch in surprise. "Shall we, gorgeous?" he teased, his tone low and smooth.

You slid your hand through the crook of his arm, matching his smirk with one of your own. "Lead the way, handsome." Whatever this mission had in store, it was clear the most dangerous thing you'd face tonight wasn't Kaieel or his allies. It was Azriel—and the way he made you feel.

—

The ballroom glittered like a scene from a dream, opulent and indulgent in every detail. Chandeliers sparkled with a thousand lights overhead, their glow casting a soft radiance across the sea of masked figures swirling on the marble floor. The air buzzed with muted conversations, laughter, and the soft strains of a symphony playing in the background.

Your arm was looped through Azriel's, his warmth bleeding into you even through the layers of your gown and his tailored suit. He guided you into the crowd with an ease that belied his tension, his hazel eyes scanning every face, every shadow, every corner.

"Stay close," he murmured, the words just for you, his breath brushing against your temple. His voice, low and commanding, sent a shiver down your spine, though you quickly disguised it as a nod of agreement.

"Hard to get closer than this," you quipped softly, unable to resist. You felt him stiffen slightly under your hand, his wings—glamoured away but somehow still present in your mind—practically bristling with restrained energy.

He didn't respond, but the faintest curve of his lips betrayed him. If it weren't for the mask obscuring part of his face, you might have caught the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Instead, his focus shifted, scanning the room until it landed on your target.

Kaieel stood near the far edge of the room, his tall frame commanding attention even in this crowd of nobles. His mask, dark and menacing, covered much of his face, but his icy blue eyes gleamed through the filigree, sharp and calculating. A small circle of sycophants surrounded him, laughing too loudly at his every word. He raised a crystal flute to his lips, sipping lazily as though the fate of Prythian wasn't potentially hanging on his next move.

"Eyes on Kaieel," Azriel murmured, tilting his head just enough for his words to reach you. "But keep it subtle. The last thing we want is him noticing our interest too early."

"Subtlety is my specialty," you whispered back, earning a flick of his gaze, though he said nothing. His grip on your hand tightened as he steered you toward the dance floor.

Before you could question him, Azriel pivoted smoothly, releasing your arm only to catch your hand and pull you into a waltz. The sudden movement startled you, your other hand landing instinctively on his shoulder as he spun you into the rhythm of the music.

"A dance?" you asked, arching a brow as you tried to ignore the way his hand settled on your waist, firm but not overbearing.

"Blending in," he replied simply, though the set of his jaw betrayed the faintest hint of awkwardness. "Everyone else is dancing. And from here, we have a better view of Kaieel."

You followed his lead, your feet moving in time with his despite the distraction of his proximity. The bond hummed faintly at the back of your mind, an awareness you fought to suppress as you focused on the task at hand. His scent—cedar and chilled mist—wrapped around you, grounding and maddening all at once.

"So," you ventured, your voice low, "do we just stare at him all night, or do we actually have a plan?"

Azriel's lips twitched, a ghost of a smile. "Patience. Kaieel will make his move eventually. Until then, we observe."

"Observation is all well and good," you said, your tone light despite the weight of the moment, "but what if he decides to slip away before we get what we need?"

"He won't," Azriel replied, his confidence a quiet anchor in the storm of your nerves. "He's too arrogant to think anyone here is a threat to him."

You were about to respond when Kaieel's laugh cut through the music, sharp and derisive. Your gaze flicked toward him in time to see him gesture grandly to his circle, drawing their attention—and yours. The words he spoke were lost in the distance, but the smug tilt of his head and the pointed glance he cast toward a cloaked figure in the corner sent a chill down your spine.

"Did you see that?" you murmured, tilting your head subtly toward Kaieel.

Azriel's grip on your waist tightened imperceptibly. "I saw. He's signaling someone."

Your next step faltered, and Azriel steadied you instantly, his hand at your back pressing you closer. "Careful," he murmured, his voice low enough to send a shiver through you. "If you trip, they'll notice."

"Noted," you said, your cheeks warming despite yourself. You tilted your head again, pretending to focus on him as you spoke. "The cloaked figure in the corner. Could be a contact."

"Could be," Azriel agreed, his hazel eyes flicking toward the figure in question. "But we won't know for sure until we get closer."

"And how do you propose we do that without drawing attention?" you asked, trying to ignore the way his hand seemed to linger on your back, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your gown in a way that felt almost deliberate.

Azriel's lips curved into a smirk, subtle but unmistakable. "Leave that to me."

Before you could question him further, the song ended, and he stepped back, bowing slightly as he offered you his arm again. You accepted it, allowing him to guide you off the dance floor and toward the far side of the room. Kaieel's attention was still focused on his circle, oblivious to your approach.

Azriel leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "We'll circle the room, make small talk, and get close enough to overhear. Follow my lead."

"Always," you replied softly, the word slipping out before you could stop it. Azriel's gaze snapped to yours, something unreadable flickering in his eyes, but he said nothing as he led you deeper into the crowd.

The mission demanded your focus, but with Azriel at your side, his presence steady and unyielding, you couldn't help but wonder if the real danger tonight wasn't the secrets hidden in this ballroom—but the ones you carried in your heart.

You move through the ballroom like smoke, seamlessly blending with the opulent crowd. Strangers smile at you—glittering masks of civility over a sea of intentions. They don't need to know who you are; your presence, the confident tilt of your chin, and the luxury of your attire tell them enough. Wealth recognizes power, even in passing.

When you wave at a woman standing beside Kaieel, she returns the gesture, though her eyes narrow ever so slightly, a flicker of confusion betraying her effort to place you. Still, she beckons you closer with the smooth grace of someone accustomed to command.

"Lady Reven," Azriel murmurs in your ear, his voice as soft and deliberate as the shadows that cling to him. "Ex-wife of Kaieel. The hostess of tonight's spectacle."

"She invited her ex-husband?" you ask under your breath, your smile unwavering despite the furrow of your brows.

"He's funding it," Azriel replies, his golden eyes scanning the room. "This way, he and his associates can conspire without his name attached. If the plot unravels—"

"She takes the fall," you finish, your mind catching up to the threads he's weaving.

"Precisely," he says with a wry twist of his lips. Then, with a pointed glance at Lady Reven, he adds, "And she, my love, is your key to him."

Your heart stumbles at his phrasing. Your key? You open your mouth to protest, but he silences you with a slight tilt of his head. "I won't be far," he assures you, his voice a soft promise. And then, as if sensing your doubt, the cool, silken pressure of shadows winds beneath your dress, curling around your thigh like an unspoken vow. The sensation is enough to make your knees threaten to buckle.

"What do I even say to her?" you whisper, frowning.

Azriel chuckles, low and teasing. "Have you forgotten all your training already?" The confidence in his tone steadies you. "You'll do just fine. I'll fetch us drinks and join you shortly," he adds, leaning down to press a brief, warm kiss to your temple before vanishing into the crowd like mist.

You force a breath into your lungs and set your shoulders, willing confidence into your stride as you cross the ballroom. The shadows move with you, unseen but ever-present, their cool touch synchronizing with the rhythm of your steps.

As you approach a table laden with crystalline champagne flutes and decadent sweets, your ears tune in to the sharp edges of Lady Reven's voice, drifting from where she speaks to a maid.

"And make sure he leaves alone tonight," she hisses. "He's humiliated me enough in public without dragging some—other female into it."

The maid nods, scurrying off, and you let your gaze fall to the intricately carved edge of the table. The urge to fidget nearly overcomes you before Lady Reven's voice pulls you from the habit.

"I wouldn't bother with the chocolates," she says coolly, stepping closer.

You glance at her, feigning an easy smile. "Good to know." You nod. "I've never been one for sweets anyway, Lady Reven."

Her ruby-red lips curl upward in a knowing smirk. "Have we met?" she asks, her sharp eyes studying you with thinly veiled suspicion.

"Only on paper," you reply smoothly. "My husband works for Kaieel."

Recognition softens her features. "Ah, a friend of Kaieel is a friend of mine," she purrs. "Call me Valenia."

"Of course. Valenia," you echo with a nod, subtly testing the name.

"And where is your husband tonight?" she asks, gesturing vaguely to the glittering crowd.

You tilt your head with a small laugh. "Fetching me something stronger than this champagne," you quip, gesturing towards the burbling fountain of sparkling wine in the center. The honesty surprises her into a laugh of her own.

"Well, I'll have to apologize for the watered-down drinks," she says lightly, her tone dripping with feigned humility.

"No need. This is a stunning event," you counter, gesturing to the ballroom.

A flicker of satisfaction crosses her face. "I think we're alike, you and I," she muses, before looping her arm through yours. "Come. I'll introduce you to Kaieel."

Your pulse quickens as she steers you across the room. You catch Azriel's golden gaze from where he's threading through the crowd, his expression unreadable but his presence grounding.

"I really should wait for my husband," you try, a nervous laugh slipping out. "We've been recently married, couldn't keep him away if I tried." You attempt to excuse.

"Then it'll be easy for him to find us, hm?" Valenia dismisses with a wink, tugging you forward until you're standing before Kaieel himself.

Kaieel was sprawled on a chaise lounge, maids bringing him drinks, butlers feeding him by hand like he was some kind of king. Even Rhys wasn't this ostentatious. His turquoise eyes fell on you as Lady Raven guided you towards him, dragging his gaze across every inch of your figure. You did your best to ignore it, giving him a bashful smile.

"What have I done to deserve the company of two such radiant creatures?" Kaieel drawls, his grin wide and smug as he leans back in his seat.

"Kai," Valenia greets, her tone deceptively warm, intimacy still flowing between them. "This is—oh, dear, I fear I never got your name."

Before you can answer, an arm slides around your shoulders, pulling you into the familiar scent of cedar and night mist, the warmth of his hold makes your tense shoulders relax.

"Mrs. Lawmore," Azriel announces smoothly, answering for you as he gives Kaieel a grin, his smile disarming as he shields you beneath his presence.

"Lawmore?" Kaieel's eyes narrow with interest. "Lysan Lawmore, is that you under that mask?"

Azriel bows his head slightly, keeping his eyes down in fear of being caught. "It's been some time, apology for my absence but my beautiful wife here needed to be spoiled after our wedding night." You didn't want to know what happened to the real Lysan, neither did you want to know what Azriel did to him to get this information out of him.

"And how exactly did you win over such a lovely companion?" Kaieel continues, taking your hand with practiced charm, his lips brushing lightly over the sapphire on your ring finger.

You smile, tilting your head bashfully. "I believe I was the one winning him over," you say, cutting in before Azriel can.

Azriel's fingers trail from your shoulder down your arm, taking your hand from Kaieel's grasp and threading his fingers with yours. His touch is possessive but gentle, a silent claim.

"How sweet," Kaieel remarks, raising his glass in mock toast. "Remember when we were like that, darling?"

Valenia's eyes flash, her smirk tightening as she looks away. "They're newlyweds, Kai. Still in the honeymoon phase."

"Newlyweds, you say? Well, then," Kaieel says with a devilish grin. "We must celebrate. Let's toast!" He stood, raising his glass. He didn't have to so much as say a word for the entire ballroom to halt and turn to him.

"So kind of all of you to join us on this fine evening, not only are we celebrating this beautiful gathering the lovely Valenia put together," He pauses for a moment to gesture towards the woman who gave a practiced smile and an elegant wave of her hand. "But we are also celebrating the recently pronounced Mr. And Mrs. Lawmore!" He raises his glass, and even if none of these people so much as knew your name, they cheered anyway. Like puppets on a string, controlled by Kaieel himself.

"Go on," Kaieel presses, leaning forward with a wicked glint in his eye. "Kiss the bride."

The demand sends a shiver down your spine. Even the shadows twining around your legs seem to still, waiting.

Azriel was already staring at you, his eyes searching yours. His lips quirk into a soft, almost shy smile, and the question in his gaze is unmistakable.

You nod, barely perceptibly.

"Come here, love," he murmurs, his voice coaxing, tender.

Your lips met, fitting together with startling, unspoken precision—like the final piece of a puzzle you never realized was incomplete until it clicked into place. The kiss lasted only a heartbeat, but in that fleeting moment, everything shifted. The air between the two of you thickened, buzzing with a quiet intensity, as if the universe itself had paused to watch.

Something deep inside you stirred, a part of yourself you'd long buried or perhaps never even known. It unfurled like a blossom in the first light of dawn, warm and aching, a golden thread spinning itself between you. It twined tighter with every second, binding not just your bodies but something deeper, something elemental.

For that brief, infinite instant, there was no ballroom, no crowd, no mission. Just the two of you—two souls suspended in the gravity of a pull you couldn't name but could feel down to your very bones.

And then, like the breathless silence before a storm, realization hit you with shattering clarity. This wasn't just a kiss. It was him. Azriel.

Your mate.

The kiss ended as gently as it began, your eyes wide and searching but he remained calm and steady, you whisper, "You've known?"

Azriel's gaze flickers to your lips, then back to your eyes, as if he was going to kiss you again, and again, and again until the gods themselves had to rip him from you. But before he can answer, the room erupts into applause, Kaieel's voice booming with praise.

Even as the crowd cheers and music resumes, you hear nothing but the pounding of your heart, feel nothing but the truth that thrums in your blood.

Mate.

And he knew.

You don't have time to process the truth searing through your veins. Mate. The word echoes in your mind like a thunderclap, threatening to drown out everything else. But Azriel's hand tightens around yours, steady and grounding. His golden eyes flicker with something unreadable—a mix of reassurance and warning—and you understand: you can't falter. Not here. Not now.

Kaieel's voice cuts through the applause, smug and commanding. "Come now, don't let the celebration stop the night's festivities. Dance, drink, enjoy yourselves!" His hand sweeps over the crowd, his charisma intoxicating, pulling their attention away from you. For now.

"You're too kind, Kaieel," Azriel says. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to spend some time with my wife."

Azriel tugs gently on your hand, guiding you away from the center of the ballroom. You follow, trying to shake the weight of the bond snapping into place. But even as he leads you, the golden thread between you hums with a new, undeniable awareness, the shadows brushing against you like a silent promise.

He doesn't speak until you've reached the edge of the room, tucked into the shadowy recess of a grand marble column. His lips are close to your ear, his voice low and smooth. "Are you with me?"

You nod, the words caught in your throat.

"Good," he murmurs. "We need to move fast. Valenia is the key to his plans. Now that you become acquainted we can use her."

You blink, willing yourself to focus. "How?"

"She's vulnerable," Azriel says, his tone edged with calculation. "Kaieel still holds power over her, and it's clear she despises him for it. We can exploit that. Learn who his allies are, how he's funding this rebellion. If we play her right, she'll give us everything."

You glance toward the center of the room, where Valenia stands at Kaieel's side, her posture poised but her eyes cold as she watches him bask in the attention of the crowd. Her mask of indifference is expertly crafted, but you can see the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers tighten around her champagne flute.

"She definitely hates him," you say quietly. "But will she betray him?"

Azriel's shadows curl against your skin, cold and steady. "She already has. Hosting this event on his behalf, exposing him to scrutiny. She's more desperate than she lets on." He tilts his head toward you, his voice softer now. "We just need to give her the final push."

You swallow hard, nodding. "And if she doesn't break?"

Azriel's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Then we'll find another way. We always do."

Before you can reply, a servant approaches with a silver tray bearing two glasses of dark red wine. Azriel accepts both, handing one to you with an easy smile that belies the sharpness of his focus.

"Drink," he murmurs. "And dance with me. They're watching."

"Again?" You ask, your heart stuttering, but you take the glass, letting him guide you back toward the dance floor.

"This is a ball, love." The music swells as he pulls you into his arms, his movements are fluid and natural as though you've danced together a hundred times. "You didn't think I'd be satiated with one dance, did you?"

The bond thrums again, golden and electric, and you can't ignore it any longer. "You knew, Az," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the violins.

Azriel's gaze flicks to yours, soft but unyielding. "Not here," he murmurs.

"But—"

"Later," he insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. His hand tightens slightly on your waist, grounding you. "Focus."

This is why he didn't want you coming, you realize. You force yourself to breathe, to move with him, to match the rhythm of the music. Around you, the crowd swirls, their laughter and chatter a muted backdrop. Kaieel and Valenia are watching from the edge of the room, their expressions unreadable.

"Valenia's looking for an ally," Azriel murmurs as he twirls you gracefully. "She doesn't trust him to win against Rhys. We offer her a way out, and she'll talk."

"How do we approach her without raising suspicion?"

Azriel's lips curve into a faint smirk. "Snead your way into her inner circle. Let her think it was her idea. I'll shadow you, gather what I can from Kaieel's other guests."

"And if something goes wrong?"

His hand slides up to your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your collarbone—a fleeting, deliberate touch. "It won't."

The music slows, and he pulls you closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And even if it did, I'd slaughter everyone in this room to get you out."

You shiver, both from fear and something you didn't have time to familiarize yourself with.

The song ends, and Azriel steps back, his mask of calm once again firmly in place. He presses a light kiss to your hand, his lips brushing your knuckles as his golden eyes lock onto yours.

"I'll be watching," he murmurs. Then he's gone, slipping into the crowd as if he were never there.

You take a steadying breath, turning your gaze toward Valenia. She's speaking with a pair of aristocrats now, her laughter light and airy, but her eyes remain calculating. You approach slowly, your steps measured and deliberate.

"Lady Valenia," you say with a soft smile as you reach her side. "I must thank you again for this incredible event."

She turns to you, her lips curling into a practiced smile. "Ah, Mrs. Lawmore. Enjoying yourself, I hope?"

"Very much," you reply smoothly. "Though I must admit, I'd hoped for a chance to speak with you more privately. Your reputation precedes you."

Her brows lift slightly, intrigue flickering in her eyes. "Does it now? And what exactly have you heard?"

You lean in slightly, lowering your voice just enough to draw her closer. "That you're the true power behind Kaieel's successes. A woman of vision and cunning."

She laughs softly, but there's a sharpness to it. "And what would you want with a woman like that, my dear?"

You smile, your gaze steady. "To learn from you, of course. I imagine there's much you could teach me."

Her eyes narrow slightly, studying you. Then, with a sly smile, she links her arm with yours. "Come, let's talk. Away from prying eyes."

As she leads you toward a quieter corner of the ballroom, you catch a glimpse of Azriel in the crowd. He's watching, his expression unreadable but his presence a constant reassurance.

The game has begun.

———

The ball had stretched into the long hours of the night. Most guests had already taken their leave, yet a few lingered—drunkards, their fingers greedily grasping for what remained of the free wine. You had spent the evening carefully cultivating a list of names, all while trying not to let the thought of your mate—a word that still felt foreign in your mind—distract you.

Valenia, meanwhile, had rattled on endlessly, weaving a tapestry of grand schemes to dismantle Kaieel's empire and seize it for herself. Such a fool. The way she outlined every step was invaluable, her unwitting admissions offering a clear view of both her vulnerabilities and Kaieel's. For someone who fancied herself clever, she didn't understand the dangers of oversharing. Perhaps conspiring alone for so long had driven her to some invisible line of insanity, one she'd now crossed with aplomb.

She was smarter than Kaieel, no doubt, but she wasn't as sharp as she thought herself to be. The rich rarely were. They plotted in circles, their plans frayed with assumptions that gold could patch any hole. A society built on corruption and greed was a society destined to crumble.

A knock on the door shattered the air between you, halting Valenia mid-sentence. Both of you froze as the door creaked open, revealing familiar black hair and molten golden eyes.

"Lysan," you said smoothly, forcing an easy smile.

Valenia hiccuped, swaying slightly as she glanced between you. The liquor had loosened her tongue and dulled her senses—a poor, unsuspecting thing. You'd kept her glass full all night, though yours had remained barely touched.

"You two are lucky," she murmured, her words slurred but still carrying a bite of jealousy.

Azriel tilted his head, stepping closer with his hand outstretched. You met him halfway, your fingers intertwining as if it were second nature.

"So in love," Valenia sighed wistfully. She swirled the deep red liquid in her glass. "Kaieel never looked at me the way he looks at you."

Azriel didn't miss a beat. "I am lucky, aren't I?" His voice was low as he leaned in, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear. The touch sent a tremor down your spine, though you leaned into him all the same, your composure unwavering.

"You two lovebirds get out of here," Valenia hummed, waving you off with a glass in hand. "I'll see you soon, Mrs. Lawmore."

You smiled at the title she so easily handed over, bowing your head alongside Azriel as you both slipped out of the room. Moments later, you left the ballroom entirely, leaving behind the clinking of glasses and murmurs of deceit.

———

Once you winnowed into The Cabin, the air was thick with unresolved tension, a thread drawn too tight and ready to snap. You released Azriel's arm but remained close, your breath steady, your gaze piercing.

He shifted, glancing at you with that careful, measured expression of his, but you saw through it. His wings flared slightly before tucking back, as if the space were already too confined for what lay between you.

"We need to debrief with Rhys—" he began, but the words barely escaped before you cut him off, your voice sharp.

"No." You held up a hand, stepping back. "We're not ignoring this."

Azriel sighed heavily, dragging a hand through his dark hair. He reached up, removing the mask with a deliberate slowness that felt like deflection. "Can I at least get comfortable first?"

"Seriously?" you snapped, your arms crossing over your chest.

But he ignored your tone, unbuttoning his shirt with maddening ease. The fabric slipped from his shoulders, revealing smooth, tan skin and the faint lines of tattoos curling down his forearms. Then came his wings—massive, stretching wide as the glamour faded, their dark beauty filling the room like a storm rolling in.

You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to look away as he folded them neatly behind him.

“Go on," he said, leaning back against the couch, his tattooed arms crossing over his chest, the sight terribly distracting. "I'm listening."

You glared at him, your voice tight. "You knew," you state.

He nodded slightly, but he said nothing, his golden eyes fixed on you with unnerving calm.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you demanded, your voice cracking despite your best efforts. "The bond—it's not something you just don't mention. Did you think I couldn't handle it?"

He exhaled slowly, his gaze steady. "It wasn't like that."

"Then what was it?" you shot back, your frustration spilling over. "You knew this whole time. Azriel, do you have any idea what it feels like to find out this way? To realize you've been keeping something this—this huge from me?"

His jaw tightened, but his expression softened just enough to betray a flicker of vulnerability. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want to force it on you."

You barked out a bitter laugh. "Force it on me? What does that even mean? Did you think I'd reject it?"

Azriel stiffened, his wings flexing behind him as if to shield himself. "It's not that simple."

"Then make it simple," you snapped. "Because right now, it feels like you didn't tell me because you were planning to reject the bond. That you didn't want me—"

His voice cut through yours, low and rough like gravel. "Don't."

The single word silenced you, but only for a moment.

"Then tell me the truth, Azriel," you demanded, your tone breaking under the weight of the words. "Tell me why you didn't say anything. Was it because you didn't want me, or because you thought I didn't want you?"

That hit its mark. His jaw clenched, and he looked away, his wings shifting behind him as though he could fly away from the conversation. But he didn't. Instead, he took a step closer, the heat of his body suffocating.

"Love, please," he said, his voice tight with something raw and unspoken. "Do you know what it's like to see your mate and think, this is it—this is everything I've ever wanted—and to know they don't feel the same? To be terrified that if you tell them, they'll look at you like you're nothing?"

Your breath caught, the weight of his words crashing into you.

"Az."

"I didn't tell you," he continued, his voice quieter now, "because I didn't want to lose you before I even had you. I thought if I told you, it would scare you off. You'd think it was some obligation instead of a choice. And I couldn't risk that. I couldn't risk, us."

You blinked, the truth settling over you like a heavy blanket. He hadn't been withholding it because he didn't want you—he'd been scared. Scared of rejection. Scared of you walking away.

"Do you have any idea how hard it's been?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly. "To see you every day, to stand beside you, and know I couldn't tell you? That I had to act like you were just someone I trained?"

Your heart twisted at the vulnerability in his words, but the anger lingered, sharp and cutting.

"You still should've told me," you said, your voice soft but firm. "You should've given me the choice. You didn't get to decide that for me."

"I know." He looked at you then, and the regret in his eyes made your chest ache. "I know I should've told you. And I'll regret that for the rest of my life. But don't think, not even for a second, that I didn't want you."

Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. He took a step closer, his golden eyes searching yours.

"You can hate me for not telling you," he said, his voice low and rough. "You can hate me for being a coward. But don't ever think I didn't want this. Don't think I didn't want you. Please."

You stood there, his words reverberating in your chest, threatening to undo the last thread of your composure. His golden eyes never left yours, the air between you charged with too much to name. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your breathing even as emotions warred within you.

Finally, you broke the silence. "You should've told me," you said softly, the edge in your voice dulling. "Because for all your talk of not forcing it, you didn't even consider that I might have wanted it too."

His eyes widened slightly, and you took a half-step closer, the tension between you pulling tight.

"I've felt, something," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper now. "For a while. I just figured it was a stupid crush, that I was imagining the lingering glances and the all too long touches." You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "But now I know."

His breath hitched, and for the first time, Azriel looked truly shaken. Vulnerable. Like he didn't know what to do with your words.

So you took the choice away and kissed him.

It was tentative at first, your lips brushing his with a softness that belied the storm building inside you. He froze for a heartbeat, and you thought maybe you'd miscalculated—but then his hands were on your waist, pulling you closer.

When you pulled back, your lips tingling, you raised a brow at the stunned expression on his face. "Kiss me like that again and I might just have to accept the bond," you teased, your tone light but laced with meaning.

"Oh, I'll do more than that." He replied with an easy smirk on his face and before you could muster a flustered reply he connected your lips again, harder this time, more desperate. His hands slid up your back, his wings stretching slightly as though the emotions were too much for him to contain. You gasped into him, his shadows curling around your legs as his lips claimed you fully, unapologetically.

The kiss stretched, time losing meaning as you melted into him. His tongue brushed against yours, his grip on you firm yet reverent, as if he couldn't decide whether to pull you closer or keep himself in check.

He kisses you like it's the only thing keeping him tethered to the world like you're the air he needs to breathe. His lips press against yours with fervent urgency, soft yet commanding, leaving no space for hesitation.

The warmth of his mouth sends a shiver racing down your spine, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of him—silken and deliberate, coaxing, drawing you in until everything else fades. His hands tighten at your waist, his fingers digging into your dress that rivaled the intensity of his kiss.

The world tilts, time seems to stall, and all you can feel is him—the taste of him, the way his body leans into yours as though he can't bear to be apart. Every brush of his lips, every slight tilt of his head, feels like an unspoken confession as if through this kiss alone, he's telling you everything he can't put into words.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. His lips were slightly swollen, his golden eyes darkened with something almost primal.

"What does this mean?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

You tilted your head, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "It means," you said, brushing a finger against his chest, "you're going to sit right there." You push him slightly, and he falls back onto the couch as if you struck him with an unrecoverable blow.

He blinked, clearly thrown off by the abrupt shift in your tone. "What?"

"Sit right there," you repeated, gesturing toward the couch. Then, turning on your heel, you made your way toward the kitchen without a backward glance.

He stared after you, confused as to where you were going during a moment like this.

The sound of pans clinking and spices mingling in the air brought him back to reality, though he still couldn't fully grasp what was happening. He'd faced centuries of war, unflinching in the face of death, yet now he sat there—utterly flustered.

An agonizing twenty minutes later, you returned with a tray, setting it down on the small table in front of him. The aroma was rich and comforting, a simple yet meaningful meal that made his chest tighten.

You placed the tray in front of him, your expression softer now, though the playful glint in your eye hadn't dimmed. "Eat, Azriel," you said, settling beside him. "You've earned it after all these years."

He stared at the plate for a moment, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Then he looked at you, his voice unsteady. "This... this is real, isn't it?"

You smiled, leaning down, pressing a kiss onto the corner of his lips just because you couch. "What do you think?"

Azriel didn't answer, but the faintest smile tugged at his lips as he picked up the fork. You watched as he took the first bite, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.

The bond hummed between you, a quiet, unspoken promise. And as Azriel sat there, eating the food you'd prepared with shadows still swirling around your feet, you realized that this—this quiet moment—was the most eventful part of the night.

And for once, Azriel looked at ease. Flustered, yes. But undeniably yours. And soon, the frenzy would set in, and he'd show you exactly how much of him was yours, body and soul, mates.

Continued drabble here!

Comment or reblog with a “💙” to be added to the general taglist!

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[jadequarze]

Ko-fi CR request sketches

Thank you for letting me try something new and I think will probably open again in the future

[basedjamil]

silly little retainerswap au . . . baur was a bodyguard for one of kalim's ancestors; kalim is at NRC specifically so that sebek can go without abandoning his post. the vipers are the traditional retainers for briar valley's royalty and they REALLY disapprove of lilia for book 7 spoilers reasons

[candycatfalls]

ok but in all honesty, i am willing to die for soft stan, at any age. this grumpy tsundere facade isn't fooling anyone you big ol gentle giant of a grunkle. yes he is hot BUT most of all he is infinitely huggable. get you a man who can do both

soft might have taken a sharp right turn into angst i fear

[httyd-art-requests]

( @yuiayyy ) They know a fellow criminal when they see one

(Not canon to the Toothless in Gravity Falls AU!)

[ID in alt text]

[gigi-loveless]

summary - loser!roommate!ellie gets you a special new toy.

warnings - smut (duh), use of vibrator, very very light degradation

authors note - this has been sitting in my drafts for like two months 😭 anyways!! requests are open!

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

loser!roommate!ellie who is obsessed with toys. and i mean obsessed.

new packages are always on your doorstep from some sketchy ass website, triple wrapped with duct tape. curiously, you peer over her shoulder while she flips out her pocket knife and digs it into the box, breaking the seal with ease.

"what is it, els?" you ponder, brushing your hand over her shoulder sensually.

"shh. you'll see..." she nearly whispers, plucking the small, purple toy out of the box. thighs rubbing together in anticipation, you tilt your head at the oddly shaped item, as ellie smirks at you.

“so this….is a phone controlled vibrator."

oh.

~

“els…..” you mewl out, reaching your fourth orgasm of the night. the knot in your stomach pulsed, the aching becoming unbearable, vision going fuzzy.

“hold it.” she answers nonchalantly, not even bothering to look up from her phone to see the pathetic mess you’ve made before her. scrolling just to flip back to the app for a moment to turn the vibrator up to an agonizing high, pretending to wipe her mouth to cover her shit eating smirk.

“this was just to test it out….i’m supposed to take you out when you can barely behave yourself here?” she chuckles, her fingers drumming against her thigh.

the moans you were suppressing were absolutely sinful to keep to yourself, though ellie urged you to be quiet. just to make things interesting, you let out a pornographic whine, throwing your head back in pleasure. the room goes quiet for a moment, besides the trill of the tv.

“mm…..” ellie hums out, running her fingers through her auburn locks, gesturing her head towards the tv. “js’ watch your show, princess.”

suddenly, the steady, reliable trill of the toy began to pulse erratically against your puffy, throbbing clit, your back arching into it involuntarily. chanting her name like a prayer, your high is approaching quickly, guttural whines finally escaping the confines of your throat.

“thought you were better than that angel….” ellie tuts, taunting you as she strips of her boxers, her favorite light blue strap sitting snugly on her hips.

pt. 2….? this was supposed to just be a drabble but i got carried away oops!

join my taglist!

@ellies2missingfingers @ellieslob @elliewilliamsloverrrrrrr

[itneverendshere]

it's all you're good for, right? - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

rafe knew you wouldn’t take his disrespect lightly.

you never did.  

he’d expected you to blow up the second he pulled that ignoring shit at the dinning. he was ready for it—your texts coming in hot, maybe you showing up at his house, ready to tear into him like you always did when he pushed too far. he'd never say it out loud, but a part of him almost liked it, the way you’d get all fired up, spitting mad. it was hot.

but you didn’t call. not a single text. you didn’t show up to the party that weekend, and when he tried to hit you up, just looking for a booty call—because fuck, he was so hard thinking about you—it went straight to voicemail. he stared at his phone like an idiot, calling again. blocked.

you? block him? nah, that wasn’t supposed to happen. rafe was the one with the power here, or at least, that’s how it used to be. it was always this push and pull, but he was the one pulling the strings, right? no fucking pogue was ever going to order him around. right?

wrong. the next weekend rolls around, and there you are at one of his parties, looking good as ever, laughing with your friends like nothing happened. and still, not even a glance his way. for two weeks now, you’ve been completely ignoring him, and it’s starting to get under his skin. more than it should.

he watches you from across the yard like a fucking creep, sipping his drink and trying to act like he doesn’t give a fuck, but inside, he’s low-key losing it. he half-expected you to walk right up to him and give him hell like you always do. but no, you’re just... doing your own thing. 

but what’s really making his head spin is what you're wearing. the outfit is pure trouble—skin-tight and leaving almost nothing to the imagination. a barely-there black mini skirt, riding up just enough to make his jaw clench, paired with a tiny top that’s more like a bralette than an actual shirt. it’s low-cut and clings to your curves, thin straps barely holding it in place, and the way it hugs your body?

yeah, he’s fucked. the way the skirt moves when you walk, teasing just enough thigh? it’s like you knew he’d be watching.

he hates how much it turns him on.

every guy at the party notices. he can see the way their eyes follow you as you move through the crowd, laughing, like you don’t even care. but it’s the way you’re ignoring him that’s really pushing him to the edge. normally, rafe loves the attention despite the look of disgust he always greets you with when you show up. loves knowing you’re secretly going to end up in his bed. but tonight? he’s not so sure and it’s killing him.

by the time he corners you, all he can think about is tearing that outfit off. the silent treatment? that shit was way worse than anything you could've said. 

“alrigh’, i get it,” he starts, throwing his hands up like he’s already done with this conversation. “jesus christ.”

you just blink up at him, completely unfazed, like he’s not even worth a reaction. his words might as well be bouncing off a wall. the fact that you’re standing there looking so fucking good, and acting like he doesn’t even exist, is messing with his head more than anything you could’ve said.

he’s pissed, yeah, but more than that, he’s desperate. desperate for a reaction. for anything. but you just brush past him, your body touching his for the briefest second, like you’re doing it on purpose just to make him snap.

rafe stands there for a second, blinking in disbelief. did you just really blow him off like that?

before he even realizes it, he's following after you, shoving through the crowd like a man possessed.

“are you serious right now?” he hisses when he catches up, grabbing your wrist lightly but firm enough to make you stop. the emotion in his voice is undeniable, and everyone nearby is pretending not to watch the little scene. “you're really just gonna walk past me like that?”

karma’s a bitch.

you finally turn to him, but the look in your eyes isn’t anger—it’s indifference. that cold, detached stare that fucks with his head more than any of the shouting matches you’ve had in the past. you pull your wrist free with ease, like his grip is nothing.

“’m over it,” you say coolly, like you’ve already moved on from the whole thing, “whatever this is? it’s not worth my time.”

that does it.

he’s used to the back and forth, the fire between you, but this, you acting like you don’t care at all—it’s new, and it pisses him off more than he thought possible. he steps closer, dropping his voice lower so no one else can hear.

“bullshit,” he says, eyes narrowing. “you’re pissed, i get it. but don’t act like you’re done with me. you aren’t.”

the smirk that curls on your lips is almost cruel.

“watch me.”

you turn and walk away, leaving rafe standing there. he knows he should let it go, but every time he tries to convince himself of that, the way your body looks in that outfit, the way you shut him down so easily, keeps replaying in his head.

and instead of walking away, he’s right back where he started, chasing after you like he can’t stand the idea of not having you anymore.

before you even get two steps away, he snaps.

his patience has run out, and all that pent-up frustration? yeah, it’s got him seeing red. he doesn’t even think about it—just moves. his hand wraps around your arm, and in one swift motion, he’s hoisting you up like you weigh nothing, slinging you over his shoulder.

“what the fuck, rafe!” you shout, your fists pounding on his muscular back, but he doesn’t stop. eyes burning, jaw clenched—he doesn’t give a shit who’s watching. not his friends, not anyone at the party. right now? he’s too pissed off and turned on to think straight. 

you wriggle in his grip, your legs kicking, but he holds you tight, marching through the party like it’s no big deal, even though everyone’s definitely staring. he’ll deal with the fallout later.

“put me down!” you’re practically growling, and maybe under any other circumstances, he would’ve listened. but not tonight. tonight, he’s done playing nice, done pretending like he’s not obsessed with you or your body, done trying to act like he’s got control over this situation when clearly, you’re the one pulling all the strings.

his grip on you is tight, and possessive, and you’re too furious to care about how turned on you secretly are. he doesn’t stop until he reaches his room, kicking the door shut behind him with one solid thud. the sound of the lock clicking is loud in the tense silence. then, he throws you onto his bed, like you're nothing more than a ragdoll.

you bounce once, staring at him with wide eyes.

“what the fuck is wrong with you!” you snap, sitting up on the bed, glaring at him.

he’s pacing now, running his hands through his hair, wild-eyed, like he’s trying to calm himself down but can’t. he turns to you, his face twisted in frustration, like he’s been holding something in for way too long. and when he speaks, his voice cracks just enough to show how on edge he really is.

“you!” he explodes, pointing at you like you're the only thing in the room. “you’re what’s wrong with me!”

his pacing slows down, and suddenly he stops. he turns back to you, both his hands shooting up to his temples, fingers pressing into his head.

“you get in my fucking head,” he admits through gritted teeth, jabbing his fingers into his temples like he’s blaming you for every thought he's had for weeks. “i can’t think straight because of you. every fucking time, you crawl into my head and just—won’t—leave.”

instead of letting his little meltdown get to you, you lean back on your hands, with a bratty scoff. “how is that my fucking problem?” you snap, crossing your arms like you couldn’t care less about his breakdown. “that’s on you, not me. maybe you should try, i don’t know, leaving me alone.”

rafe stares at you, his chest heaving, his jaw clenched tight, “you think this is a joke?” he growls, stepping closer, closing the gap between you two, his presence almost suffocating. “you think you can just sit there and act like none of this is your fault?”

you give him a fake sweet smile, leaning forward just enough to be in his face, “maybe you shouldn’t have fucked me in the first place, hmm? god forbid your friends find out you’ve been slumming it with a pogue.”

it’s the fake docility in your smile that makes him want to break something. he steps even closer, his breath hot and heavy as his eyes lock onto yours, blue and furious.

"that’s what this is?" His voice is low, almost a growl. “you seriously don’t get it, do you?" he leans in, his face inches from yours, his expression almost daring you to keep pushing. "this—whatever the fuck this is between us—this isn’t about them. it’s about you." his hand shoots out, gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. "don’t act like you didn’t know what you were getting into from the beginning."

you yank your chin free, rolling your eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he's getting to you. “right. you ignoring me at the dinner? guess i was supposed to just sit there and take it, huh? maybe you wanted me to be a good little bitch and not make any noise.” 

you might be pissed, but you're not just angry—you're hurt, and that fucks with his head more than he cares to admit.

rafe huffs, running a hand through his hair in frustration, looking away for a second before turning back to you. “what the fuck do you want from me? huh? you want me to call you my girlfriend? you want me to fucking introduce you like this is some kind of relationship? be fucking serious.”

"be fucking serious?" you repeat, "you gave me a 200$ tip, you fucking asshole!" you shove him hard in the chest, catching him off guard. “like ’m some kind of fucking whore!”

rafe's eyes widen as he stumbles back a step, “wait—what? no, no, no. that’s not what it meant.”

you glare at him, shaking your head in disbelief. “of course, it fucking was!” you shout, shoving him again, harder this time. “what else would it mean, huh? you throw money at me like it’s supposed to make everything okay, like ’m some kind of... some kind of pogue you can pay off and keep quiet.”

he looks stunned, his mouth opening and closing like he’s trying to figure out what to say. “that’s not—fuck, that’s not what i meant. i wasn’t thinking about it like that, okay? i was trying to help you!" he blurts out, his tone defensive, like he can’t believe you’re twisting his intentions into something they weren’t.

you laugh, but it’s sharp, biting. “help me?” you stare at him like he’s lost his mind. “oh, please. shut the fuck up. why would you ever want to help me, rafe? be real.” he tries to speak, but before he can you’re already stepping back. “if you want to fuck me, just get on with it. i need to leave. so, make it quick.”

what?

“is that what you think this is?” he doesn’t move to touch you, but the tension is strong enough to feel suffocating. “you think ’m just here to—”

“to fuck me? yeah. that’s what this has always been about,” you cut him off, “and you know what? it’s okay. let’s not drag it out. do what you do best—take what you want and leave me the fuck alone.”

he’s not ready to admit that this feels more than just a hookup. he’s not sure if he will ever get there. rafe’s chest heaves as he stares at you. he’s done trying to explain himself. 

“fine,” he snaps, stepping closer until his chest is almost brushing yours. “if that’s what you want.” 

your breath catches in your throat, but you don’t back down. not when you're this annoyed. “yeah, it is. stop wasting my time.”

in one swift motion, rafe pulls you to him by the waist, with his usual roughness that makes you drip between your thighs. his lips claim yours with a bruising force. it’s not soft or sweet—this is raw, messy, all tongue and teeth. his hands are everywhere, gripping your hair, your ass, pulling you flush against him like he can’t have any space between you. you’re both moving with frantic, desperate eagerness, like this is less about desire and more about proving a point.

“is this what you want?” rafe snarls against your lips, breaking the kiss just long enough to yank your top over your head, throwing it somewhere in the room. “to get fucked stupid and leave? that it?”

you let out a breathless laugh, but it’s overflowing with venom. “that’s all you’re good for, right?”

so much for making peace.

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