#though i am really proud of that last one with shadow | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

surielstea · 19 days ago

Text

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!

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @hufflepuff-pa55 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @cumuluscranium @adharanotfound @azrielsmate3 @aelincaddel @hiddlestonspassionsackx @dee-writes-smut @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @pit-and-the-pen @mybestfriendmademe @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @circe143 @ivy-34 @joshysloshy @username199945 @notsarareallynot @vixenshiftsvrs @aurorab99 @pey2618 @loving-and-dreaming @mmg777 @andreperez11 @thatacotargirl @123345566 @one-big-fangirl @moonslitluna @imyherondale @salvawhxres @bookishbabyyyy @anuttellaa @breadsticks2004 @azriels-human @mamita-vera @demetercabingreen-thumb @lorosette @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tothestarsandwhateverend @ahaha0246 @mellowmusings @mythicalcookie

1K notes · View notes

caffeinewitchcraft · 2 months ago

Text

AITA for being proud of my job as a regional Nightmare?

My sister told me she’s making her own post and that if I was so sure I wasn’t TA then I should make my own so here I am.

I’m a regional Nightmare. I’m very proud of how hard I worked to get here. Not many terrors in their 20s get this high up and it’s because I do the work. I get up at 8pm and I’m out in the woods grinding out those quotas until dawn. Sometimes I sleep out there in my uniform just so I can be the first on scene for the multi-part jobs. I’m efficient, I’m punctual, and I’m committed. My goal is to be a Cyptid by the time I’m 30 and, to do that, I have to stay on at all times.

As a result, I work a lot. I’m often not home for days at a time. I have a very strict training regimen and my time for friends and family is virtually nonexistent. That’s why when I do get the time to hang out, I prefer to spend my time intentionally. What I mean by that is that I don’t want to sit on a couch when I could be lifting weights. I don’t want to chill in the pool when I could be volunteering for new scares. I especially don’t want to gossip over tea when I could be getting overtime.

Last Saturday, my sister invited a bunch of family over to her house. My job in the Virginia woods fell through, so I decided to go. Silly (her childhood nickname) said she had something important to tell the family so I thought it wouldn’t be a waste of my time.

Key word: thought.

When I got to Silly’s house, I was surprised to see so many cars out front. Our parents were there and our older brother. The house was packed. There were cousins, aunts, uncles and a ton of people I didn’t know.

At first the event was fine. Silly’s always been a good cook (see, I know you’re reading this, Silly, and see? I do compliment you when do something actually good) and everyone was really enjoying the flank steak (though I did have to save it before she cooked it medium well). But as the day wore on, I could tell people were getting bored. Silly and Mom were focused on cleaning up and said that dessert would have to wait until her fiance got home. Which was kind of rude to be late and I felt really bad for Silly. It seems like my soon to be brother-in-law (BIL for short) is never around when she needs him.

In an effort to help, I engaged some of the people I didn’t know in conversation because the party was getting a little dead and I didn’t want one of my sister’s parties to fail. I was trying hard not to think about the time I was wasting waiting for my future BIL so it also served as a distraction.

It turns out one of the guys was a fellow terror. He worked a corporate job and we talked for a while about the pros of being freelance like me. He asked me a lot of questions and I was happy to mentor another terror. Corporate can suck the art out of what we do. My clients only care if the quota for their mission is met and don’t enforce such strict timelines. They come to me for quality. Poor guy barely had time to mend his uniform between scares (his cloak was tattered and his hook hand was rusty) so I recommended my tailor and blacksmith.

The guy and I exchanged information. I gave him my business card and he looked for one of his. While he looked, I felt nature calling so I headed upstairs to use my sister’s bathroom (like hell I was going to use the same one as my Uncle Joe). From up there, I saw my future BIL pull into the driveway.

Being a regional Nightmare is a tough job. Like I said, I have to train a lot to keep my certification. So I thought it’d be a good idea to get a scare on my BIL both to punish him for being late and to make up for all the time I’d already wasted at the party.

So I waited for him to come upstairs to change and, when he did, I pulled out the works. I darkened the room and fell back into the shadows. Then, while he groped for the light switch, I stretched out my leg (I have an extra joint in them) and tried to nudge him. I honestly didn’t expect for him to trip and I DEFINITELY didn’t expect for him to fall backwards. I’ve been practicing this skill on my family since I was sixteen and got the leg extension mod and none of them ever fell like that.

My future BIL fell down the stairs. I panicked and raced over to look over the banister. He was fine! He wasn’t bleeding or anything and, when I saw that, I started to laugh.

Everyone freaked out though. They all said I was being immature and bullying my BIL. I told them it wasn’t bullying, it was my actual job. I said that I was just joking and didn’t know my BIL, a former “Cryptid”, would take it so hard.

My mom jumped in and backed me up, but my sister has always been the Queen of the castle. Silly and Dad kicked me out ( I mean, I let them, I’ve got enhanced strength and I didn’t want to hurt them). Dad called me a disgrace and to not come back home.

I asked him if he was really kicking me out just because I wanted to show off my skills a little? And he said yes. And Silly said I had it coming to me for a long time.

I don’t even know what went wrong.

So AITA for taking pride in my work?

---.

SillyCreeper says: Oh my god, you actually made this post? You’re an actual idiot. For anyone who believes this story, read mine before you vote. My brother left out a few details like how the party was my GENDER REVEAL PARTY and that he’s not a regional Nightmare, he’s a Slasher for hire.

OP replies: I am TRAINED to operate as a regional Nightmare. That makes me an independent regional Nightmare.

SillyCreeper replies: Regional Nightmares don’t steal failed missions from corporate Slashers

OP replies: Get your own post, Silly

SillyCreeper: Oh, I already did. Have fun being torn apart on yours, dumbass.

-----

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to read Silly's AITA post a week early, please consider becoming a patron (X)!

Aita for going no contact with my brother after he pulled a Scare on my husband?

I'm working on this anthology during November and I'm having a blast with this story in particular! The family drama keeps going on and on

#my writing #aita reddit parody #reddit parody #meta monsterverse

1K notes · View notes

cashmoneyyysstuff · 10 months ago

Text

yall..im workin hard on the last part of fbrc rn....BUUUUUTTT--

i thought of childhood friend (im sorry i cant help it) bodyguard katsuki being hopelessly devoted to big boss' daughter reader.

let's say the environment he grew up in wasn't good at all. he lived in a horrible neighborhood that had a survival of the fittest mentality. he had to rob n steal and fight to survive. and them maybe he got recruited by some crime syndicate who saw his potential from a young age.

he feels indebted to them cus they got him out the streets, so he decides to devote his entire life to this syndicate and his boss, who just so happens to have a child : you.

you're the same age as him, maybe a year younger. his first thought is that you're a pushover. you hide behind your father the whole time he's introducing you to him and you barely even look at him, but he's been told he has a bit of a stink eye because he's just sorta used to glaring at people.

as your father keeps introducing you both your eyes widen at him saying katsuki will become your new best friend. yours out of joy cus you've always been sheltered and you've never really had friends your age before, and katsuki's out of shock. he thought he was here to kick people's asses, not babysit some random girl !

when your father pulls katsuki aside later that day he explains that since he's a very dangerous man other dangerous people will try to endanger not only him but his family and since he's strong he'd like him to watch over you. katsuki doesn't like it, but your dad did save him from his life on the street, so he can play nice for now.

he's never had friends either, so he doesn't know how to play like other kids do, and definetly not like you do.

you have him follow you around calling him your knight, you stick stupid clips in his hair and get all pouty when he won't let you put that pastey makeup shit on his face. you have him kiss your ouchies away when you trip over your own shadow and you whine and whine until he let's you jump on his back to give you a piggy back ride.

though, the more he spends time with you, the more there are fun moments. he hates to admit it but it's fun to be a kid with you. you play games that he likes to play and you share your cookies with him and he carries you around and plays dolls with you in exchange. he kisses your ouchies away and you put a cool bandage over his cheek when he's done training for the day and press a big get better kiss on it. you tell him it's to energize him and he huffs and puffs about it but he always looks forward to his kiss after training.

you've complained to him about how you can't spend much time with your dad since he's always out working, you don't have friends because everyone is a threat and you're always being surveyed and watched from a distance and you cry and say you hate it. you tell him that he's your fifth body guard and that he's your favorite one by far. you smile at him and the apples of his cheeks burn, he tries but can't supress the proud smile that grows on his face "of course i am, i'm the best !"

he's been your favorite and last body guard since that day because katsuki has made it his life's mission to devote himself to his clan, his boss and most of all, you.

1K notes · View notes

huskersbooze · 9 months ago

Text

Part 3 to Who's In Control?

Better Than This

Alastor x Reader

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3(here!) |

Summary : After the fight and spending time apart, you and Alastor finally come to realise your mutual feelings for one another, but before that, a more important matter needs to be discussed.. will Alastor finally tell the truth?

Warnings : This is where we go off track and not all of this is canon, swearing/cuss words, Angel jokes about sex(?)

Pairings : Alastor x F!Reader (M!Reader here)

Additional Tags : Lore, world building kinda, angst, fluff, Alastor learns to talk about feelings

Ib : Better Than This by Set It Off

Word count : 1.4k

Wide awake on the couch, you stare up at the ceiling of the hotel.

“I’m closing for the night, kid. You gonna be alright?” Husk asks from the bar.

“I’ll manage. Goodnight, Husk.”

“Night, kid.” He heads towards the staircase, but just before leaving for good, he turns to face you one last time. “Take care. And don’t stay up too late.”

“Mhm. You too.”

After a while, it was quiet. Just an empty hotel with the dim hallway lights and nothing else.

You weren’t really sure why you were here. You could’ve gone back to your room after Husk left, or before, for that matter. Maybe your heart just has desires you couldn’t avoid.

“Shit, stop thinking about him! C’mon, brain! Stop it, now.” You aggressively started to blink, trying to find anything else to distract your mind, but everything seemed to be tied to his existence.

There was no denying you missed him.

“What the hell is happening.. I’m supposed to be mad and angry, not missing him..” You sigh.

Poor Alastor, though.. Maybe I should hear him out? No. Fuck, no! He lied to you! No way.

You groan and cover your eyes with the back of your hand. There was this uneasy churn in your stomach.

Am I.. am I in love with Alastor?

-----

“Alastor, you can’t keep this up forever. You need to fix this.” Rosie sighs, walking Alastor back to the Hotel.

“What use is there, dear, Rosie?” Alastor’s voice is audibly tired-out, though his smile still etched high and proud. “I was so close.”

“You need to tell the poor thing and let her fend for herself.”

“She wouldn’t listen.”

“Alastor, please. This is no longer about your silly little crush.” Rosie stops in her tracks, catching sight of the Hotel a few streets away. “It’s about her soul.”

“Crush?” Alastor asks, oblivious.

“A crush, someone you have feelings for and want to be with.”

“Ridiculous, Rosie. I don’t do.. Feelings.” It pains him to utter such word.

“Whatever ya’ say. Just.. think about what I said, alright?”

Alastor nods, parting ways with Rosie.

Feelings..? Did he have feelings? Feelings for you?

-----

The door creeks, making you turn your head.

Who would be here this late at night? Was it a guest? No, why would a guest come in at 1am?

But then who would it be..?

You got off the couch and eyed the corner which led to the main entrance. A threat, perhaps.

You simply stayed put, saw a glimpse of a shadow, pounced and tackled whatever had made itself welcome in the hotel until the two of you tumbled onto the ground.

Prepared for the worst, you were surprised to hear.. Radio static?

“Alastor..?” You ask.

The Demon looks up at you, his neck wrapped tightly around your hand.

“Oh shit! Sorry, I thought you were an intruder.” You immediately let go and backed up, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Whatever gave you that idea, my dear?” He questions, sitting on the floor opposite of you.

“It's 1am.”

Alastor tilts his head.

“I wouldn't expect you to be out at 1am.”

“You know I don't sleep, dear.” He says, wincing at the fact he's repeated this multiple times in the past.

“Doesn’t mean you’d be out at 1am.” You mutter.

“Valid point.” He says, the tension in the air starting to grow thick.

“So.. uh.” You trail, “Why exactly are you out at 1am, exactly?”

“Ah, just simply visiting Rosie is all.”

“Oh, I see.”

Alastor looks away, his gaze glued to the hotel floors.

“And you, darling?”

“Huh?”

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Oh. I was helping Husk with the bar.” You tell him, which, ultimately, was a lie. Husk was doing all the work while you were drinking away your feelings. But you weren’t about to admit that to Alastor.

“Yes, I see. How nice.”

“Yep.” Damn, this was so awkward.

You got up from the floor, turning your back, “Well, uh.. Goodnight, then.. Alastor.”

“Goodnight, my dear.”

You start hesitantly walking towards the staircase leading to the staff rooms, feeling Alastor watching your back as you left.

“Darling.”

You stop in your tracks. Actually, no, you freeze. Though you made it evident you had no intention in facing him.

“Yes?”

“We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Alastor.”

“You don’t understand, dear. I fear I may regret keeping this from you any sooner in the future.”

“Uh huh..?”

“You’re aware of overlords, I assume?”

“Yes, but what does tha-” Before you could continue, you catch sight of Husk by the top of the stairs.

“Hey, you said you’d sleep, kid-” He tries to joke, but realises you’re not alone. “Oh. Hey, boss.”

“Husker.” He acknowledges.

“Uh.. am I interruptin’ something?”

“Well, actually-”

“No, of course not.” Alastor cuts you off, passing by and giving you a small pat on the head.

God you missed those.

“We’ll discuss this another time, darling. You need your rest.” Alastor gives the small of your back a little push forward, urging you to go to bed. “I hope to see you tomorrow morning?”

“Y-Yeah.. Sure.” You reply, stepping forward, already missing the contact from Alastor’s hand. “Goodnight.”

“Indeed. Sleep well, my dear.”

You reach the top of the steps and Husk accompanies you back to your room, leaving Alastor still in the lobby by himself.

He returns to his broadcasting studios, a gut feeling in his chest telling him to just be honest with you about the contract. He hums a tune as he returns back.

He’ll fix this. He has to.

-----

“Good morning, Al.” You reached the table where everyone was gathered, and was somewhat pleased to find Alastor already sitting in his normal seat.

“How was sleep, my dear?”

“Good. Did you have your daily dose of venison yet?”

“Not quite. You don’t seem to have your breakfast either.”

“Gotta have my priorities.” You shrug. “Shall we discuss this somewhere else?”

“Let’s.”

You leave alongside Alastor, and the rest of the crew can only stare at each other in shock.

“Did I miss something?” Charlie is first to speak up.

Husk smiles, Sir pentious shrugs, Vaggie asks the same thing.

“Who thinks they’re fuckin’?”

“Angel!”

“Joking, jeez!”

-----

“You wanted to say something?” You take a seat on the floor next to Alastor’s chair.

“By all means, you’re welcome to sit on the chair.”

“I’m good. Your broadcasting panel scares me. You sit.”

“If you insist.” He takes a seat, ruffling your hair. “You’re familiar with overlords, correct?”

“Mhm.”

“Have you ever heard of Azrael?”

“The Legend of the Dark Arts Overlord?”

“Precisely.”

“I’ve heard of it, yes.”

“Well, dear, he’s not a legend. He was the most powerful overlord of us all.”

You weren’t sure what reaction to be giving so you nodded along, waiting for him to continue.

“7 years ago, us overlords were experimenting with power and magic. Azrael formed an experiment, inheriting part of his magic to a human.” He says, meanwhile you still had no idea what this had to do with you.

“This human would be protected, and would only die when Azrael himself gets killed, thus sending the experiment to hell, whether they deserved it or not. 7 years ago, some of us overlords had ‘matters’ to attend to and Azrael had died in the process during the last 2 years.” Alastor proceeds to drop multiple history facts on you at 9 in the morning.

“2 years ago,” He states. “The human was sent to hell with locked up dark magic they weren’t aware of. The overlords are now gambling for this soul as whoever owns the soul owns the power and magic, but on one condition.”

“One condition?”

“Yes, my dear. You see, to own the soul is one thing, but to own the magic.. The soul has to be killed.”

“That’s terrible! And complete bullshit.”

“Exactly, darling. And I own this very soul.” He sighs. “As long as I can own her soul for long enough and find a backdoor, her soul won’t be gambled any longer by the current overlords. But you see, dear, I’m on a time limit here.”

“Is there anything I can do to help? Who’s soul is it?” You desperately question, completely forgetting you were supposed to be still mad at Alastor.

Alastor sighs, looking at you with compassionate eyes as a hand comes to cup your cheek.“2 years ago, this soul entered hell. 2 years ago, another soul that entered hell.. was you.”

———/ TBC. /———

Taglist : @musicalsundrop @for-hearthand-home @saeran-g @smoky000 @otherthoughtsofbu @letmebeagreekstatueyoumotherfuck @hudiexiaoying @prettyboychoso @thonethatflies620 @imaptiencepersistonthinstring @speaker15 @zq13 @starr11111 @fokrilove @aloraaaxcrystalzx @simps-for-to-many-people @siriuslyobsessedwithfiction @ohdarlingohdeer @sophiasrant @soyobi-wankenobi @karolinda007-blog @alastorsgirl48 @memymay @perrynina @john-kramer-0807 @preciousbabypeter @sugxryratz @polytheatrix @maksdust @96jnie @spirit-of-the-hollow @chirimeimei @itsukiestia @sky2lar @centuriantalevevo @cryptidabduction911 @bubblsteaa @sirens-and-moonflowers @readergirlstuff @capri-sun00 @simpingsohard @manicjk @wen01203 @hellkaisersangel @kitty-kei @spookieroz @bontensbabygirl @sakuraluna2468 @hunnybee11626 @chanty-loves-turtles @the-sharpened-pencil

If you want to be on this fics taglist leave a comment! Please specify you want to be tagged or else I won't tag blogs that ask for another part cuz it doesn't seem polite- Thanks in advance <3

377 notes · View notes

sassenach77yle · 17 days ago

Text

7x11 “A Hundredweight of Stones”

John...what happens now?

Think of the deer, my dear.

I WAS SURPRISED to wake up. I hadn’t really expected to and lay for a bit trying to fit reality back into place around me. I had only a slight headache, which was almost more surprising than the fact that I was still alive.Both those things paled in significance beside the fact of the man in bed beside me.

“How long has it been since you last slept with a woman, if you don’t mind my asking?”He didn’t appear to mind. He frowned a little and scratched his chest thoughtfully.“Oh… fifteen years? At least that.” He glanced at me, his expression altering to one of concern. “Oh. I do apologize.”“You do? For what?” I arched one brow. I could think of a number of things he might apologize for, but probably none of those was what he had in mind.“I am afraid I was perhaps not…” he hesitated. “Very gentlemanly.”“Oh, you weren’t,” I said, rather tartly. “But I assure you that I wasn’t being at all ladylike myself.”He looked at me, and his mouth worked a bit, as though trying to frame some response to that, but after a moment or two he shook his head and gave it up.“Besides, it wasn’t me you were making love to,” I said, “and both of us know it.”He looked up, startled, his eyes very blue. Then the shadow of a smile crossed his face, and he looked down at the quilted coverlet.“No,” he said softly. “Nor were you, I think, making love to me. Were you?”“No,” I said. The grief of the night before had softened, but the weight of it was still there. My voice was low and husky, because my throat was halfway closed, where the hand of sorrow clutched me unawares.John sat up and reached to the table, where a carafe stood along with a bottle and a glass. He poured something out of the bottle and handed it to me.“Thank you,” I said, and lifted it to my lips. “Good grief, is that beer?”“Yes, and very good beer, too,” he said, tilting back the bottle. He took several hearty gulps, eyes half closed, then lowered it with a sigh of satisfaction. “Clears the palate, freshens the breath, and prepares the stomach for digestion.”Despite myself, I was amused—and shocked.“Do you mean to tell me that you are in the habit of drinking beer for breakfast every day?”“Of course not. I have food with it.”“I am amazed that you have a single tooth in your head,” I said severely—but risked a small sip. It was good beer: heavy-bodied and sweet, with just the right sour edge.At this point, I noticed a certain tenseness in his posture, which the content of the conversation didn’t account for. Slow-witted as I was, it took a moment for me to realize what was amiss.“Oh. If you need to fart,” I said, “don’t trouble on my account. Go ahead.”He was sufficiently startled by my observation that he did.

“I do beg your pardon, madam!” he said, his fair skin flushing up to the hairline.I tried not to laugh, but suppressed amusement jiggled the bed, and he went redder still.“Would you have any hesitation about it were you in bed with a man?” I asked, out of idle curiosity.He rubbed his knuckles against his mouth, the color fading a bit from his cheeks.“Ah. Well, that would depend upon the man. By and large, though, no.”The man. I knew that Jamie was the man in his mind—just as he was in mine. At the moment, I wasn’t disposed to resent it.He knew what I was thinking, too.

“He offered me his body once. You knew that?” His voice was dry.“I take it you didn’t accept.” I knew he hadn’t but was more than curious to hear his side of that encounter.“No. What I wanted from him was not that—or not entirely that,” he added, with honesty. “I wanted all of it—and was young and proud enough to think that if I could not have that, then I would accept no less. And that, of course, he couldn’t give me.”I was silent for a time, thinking. The window was open, and the long muslin curtains moved in the breeze.

“Did you regret it?” I asked. “Not taking him up on his offer, I mean?”

“Ten thousand times, at the very least,” he assured me, breaking into a rueful grin. “At the same time… refusing him was one of the few acts of true nobility to which I would lay claim for myself. It’s true, you know,” he added, “selflessness does carry its own reward—for if I had taken him, that would have destroyed forever what did exist between us.

“To have given him instead the gift of my understanding, hard come by as it was,” he added ironically, “left me with his friendship. So I am left with momentary regret on the one hand, but satisfaction on the other. And in the end it was the friendship that I valued most.”

After a moment’s silence, he turned to me.“May I… You will think me odd.”“Well, you are a bit odd, aren’t you?” I said tolerantly. “I don’t really mind, though. What is it?”He gave me a look, strongly suggesting that if one of us was indeed odd, he didn’t think it was himself. Gentlemanly instincts suppressed any remark he might have made to this effect, though.“Will you allow me to see you? Ah… naked?”I closed one eye and looked at him.

“This certainly isn’t the first time you’ve slept—I do mean slept with—a woman, is it?” I asked. He had been married, though I seemed to recall that he had spent much of his married life living separately from his wife.He pursed his lips thoughtfully, as though trying to recall.“Well, no. I do think it may be the first time I’ve done it entirely voluntarily, though.”“Oh, I am flattered!”He glanced at me, smiling slightly.“So you should be,” he said quietly.I was of an age, after all, where… Well, on the other hand, he presumably didn’t have the same instinctive reactions that the majority of men did, in terms of feminine attractions. Which rather left open the question …“Why?”A shy smile touched the corner of his mouth, and he hitched himself up against the pillow.“I… am not quite sure, to tell you the truth. Perhaps it is only an effort to reconcile my memories of last night with the … er … actuality of the experience?”I felt a sharp jolt, as though he had punched me in the chest. He couldn’t have known my first thoughts on waking and seeing him—that sharp, disorienting flash when I had thought he was Jamie, remembering so acutely Jamie’s flesh and weight and ardor, and so urgently wanted him to be Jamie that I had succeeded for an instant in thinking that he was, only to be crushed like a grape at the realization that he wasn’t, all my soft insides spurting out.Had he felt or thought the same things, waking to find me there beside him?“Or perhaps it is curiosity,” he said, smiling a little more broadly. [...

]“How long is some time? Fifteen years, you said?”“Oh, a good deal longer than that. Isobel—” He stopped abruptly, the smile vanishing. He hadn’t mentioned his dead wife before.“You never saw her naked?” I asked, with more than idle curiosity. He turned his face away a little, eyes cast down.“Ah … no. It wasn’t… She did not… No.” He cleared his throat, then raised his eyes, looking into mine with an honesty raw enough to make me want to look away.“I am naked to you,” he said simply, and drew back the sheet.Thus invited, I could hardly not look at him. And in all truth, I wanted to, out of simple curiosity. He was trim and lightly built, but muscular and solid. A little softness at the waist, but no fat—and softly furred with vigorous blond hair, darkening to brown at his crutch. Itwas a warrior’s body; I was well acquainted with those. One side of his chest was heavily marked with crisscrossing scars, and there were others—a deep one across the top of one thigh, a jagged thing like a lightning bolt down his left forearm.At least my own scars weren’t visible, I thought, and before I could hesitate further, I pulled the sheet away from my own body. He looked at it with deep curiosity, smiling a little.“You are very lovely,” he said politely.“For a woman of my age?”His gaze passed over me dispassionately, not with any sense of judgment but rather with the air of a man of educated tastes evaluating what he saw in the light of years of seeing.“No,” he said finally. “Not for a woman of your age; not for a woman at all, I think.”“As what, then?” I asked, fascinated. “An object? A sculpture?” In a way, I could see that. Something like museum sculptures, perhaps: weathered statues, fragments of vanished culture, holding within them some remnant of the original inspiration, this remnant in some odd way magnified by the lens of age, sanctified by antiquity. I had never regarded myself in such a light, but I couldn’t think what else he might mean.“As my friend,” he said simply.“Oh,” I said, very touched. “Thank you.”I waited, then drew the sheet up over both of us.“Since we’re friends …” I said, somewhat emboldened.“Yes?”“I only wondered… have you… been quite alone all this time? Since your wife died?”He sighed, but smiled to let me know he didn’t mind the question.“If you really must know, I have for many years enjoyed a physical relationship with my cook.”“With… your cook?”“Not with Mrs. Figg, no,” he said hastily, hearing the horror in my voice. “I meant with my cook at Mount Josiah, in Virginia. His name is Manoke.”“Ma—oh!” I recalled Bobby Higgins telling me that Lord John retained an Indian named Manoke to cook for him.“It is not merely the relief of necessary urges,” he added pointedly, turning his head to meet my eyes. “There is true liking between us.”“I’m pleased to hear that,” I murmured. “He, er, he’s…”“I have no idea whether his preference is solely for men. I rather doubt it—I was somewhat surprised when he made his desires known in re myself—but I am in no position to complain, whatever his tastes may be.”

I rubbed a knuckle over my lips, not wanting to seem vulgarly curious—but vulgarly curious, all the same.“You don’t mind, if he … takes other lovers? Or he you, come to that?” I had a sudden uneasy apprehension. I did not intend that what had happened the night before should ever happen again. In fact, I was still trying to convince myself that it hadn’t happened this time. Nor did I mean to go to Virginia with him. But what if I should and Lord John’s household then assumed… I had visions of a jealous Indian cook poisoning my soup or lying in wait behind the necessary house with a tomahawk.John himself seemed to be considering the matter, lips pursed. He had a heavy beard, I saw; the blond stubble softened his features and at the same time gave me an odd feeling of strangeness—I had so seldom seen him less than perfectly shaved and groomed.“No. There is… no sense of possession in it,” he said finally.I gave him a look of patent disbelief.“I assure you,” he said, smiling a little. “It—well. Perhaps I can describe it best by analogy. At my plantation—it belongs to William, of course; I refer to it as mine only in the sense of habitation—”I made a small polite sound in my throat, indicating that he might curtail his inclinations toward complete accuracy in the interests of getting on with it.“At the plantation,” he said, ignoring me, “there is a large open space at the rear of the house. It was a small clearing at first, and over the years I have enlarged it and finally made a lawn of it, but the edge of the clearing runs up to the trees. In the evenings, quite often, deer come out of the forest to feed at the edges of the lawn. Now and then, though, I see a particular deer. It’s white, I suppose, but it looks as though it’s made of silver. I don’t know whether it comes only in the moonlight or whether it’s only that I cannot see it save by moonlight—but it is a sight of rare beauty.”His eyes had softened, and I could see that he wasn’t looking at the plaster ceiling overhead but at the white deer, coat shining in the moonlight.“It comes for two nights, three—rarely, four—and then it’s gone, and I don’t see it again for weeks, sometimes months. And then it comes again, and I am enchanted once more.”He rolled onto his side in a rustle of bedclothes, regarding me.“Do you see? I do not own this creature—would not, if I could. Its coming is a gift, which I accept with gratitude, but when it’s gone, there is no sense of abandonment or deprivation. I’m only glad to have had it for so long as it chose to remain.”“And you’re saying that your relationship with Manoke is the same. Does he feel that way about you, do you think?” I asked, fascinated. He glanced at me, clearly startled.

“I have no idea.”“You, um, don’t… talk in bed?” I said, striving for delicacy.His mouth twitched, and he looked away.“No.”We lay in silence for a few moments, examining the ceiling.“Have you ever?” I blurted.“Have I what?”“Had a lover that you talked to.”He cut his eyes at me.“Yes. Perhaps not quite so frankly as I find myself talking to you, but, yes.” He opened his mouth as though to say or ask something further, but instead breathed in, shut his mouth firmly, and let the air out slowly through his nose.I knew—I couldn’t not know—that he wanted very much to know what Jamie was like in bed, beyond what I had inadvertently shown him the night before. And I was obliged to admit to myself that I was very tempted to tell him, only in order to bring Jamie back to life for the brief moments while we talked. But I knew that such revelations would have a price: not only a later sense of betrayal of Jamie but a sense of shame at using John—whether he wished such usage or not. But if the memories of what had passed between Jamie and myself in our intimacy were no longer shared—still, they belonged only to that intimacy and were not mine to give away.It occurred to me—belatedly, as so many things did these days—that John’s intimate memories belonged to him, as well.“I didn’t mean to pry,” I said apologetically.He smiled faintly, but with real humor.“I am flattered, madam, that you should entertain an interest in me. I know many more … conventional marriages in which the partners remain by preference in complete ignorance of each other’s thoughts and histories.”With considerable startlement, I realized that there was now an intimacy between myself and John—unexpected and uninvited on both our parts, but… there it was.The realization made me shy, and with that realization came a more practical one: to wit, that a person with functional kidneys cannot lie in bed drinking beer forever.He noticed my slight shifting and rose at once himself, donning his banyan before fetching my own dressing gown—which, I saw with a sense of unease, some kindly hand had hung over a chair to warm before the fire.“Where did that come from?” I asked, nodding at the silk robe he held for me.

“From your bedroom, I assume.” He frowned at me for a moment before discerning what I meant. “Oh. Mrs. Figg brought it in when she built the fire.”“Oh,” I said faintly. The thought of Mrs. Figg seeing me in Lord John’s bed—doubtless out cold, disheveled, and snoring, if not actually drooling—was hideously mortifying. For that matter, the mere fact of my being in his bed was deeply embarrassing, no matter what I had looked like.“We are married,” he pointed out, with a slight edge to his voice.“Er… yes. But…” A further thought came to me: perhaps this was not so unusual an occurrence for Mrs. Figg as I thought—had he entertained other women in his bed from time to time?“Do you sleep with women? Er … not sleep, I mean, but …”He stared at me, stopped in the act of untangling his hair.“Not willingly,” he said. He paused, then laid down his silver comb. “Is there anything else you would like to ask me,” he inquired, with exquisite politeness, “before I allow the bootboy to come in?”Despite the fire, the room was chilly, but my cheeks bloomed with heat. I drew the silk dressing gown tighter.“Since you offer… I know Brianna told you what—what we are. Do you believe it?”He considered me for a time without speaking. He didn’t have Jamie’s ability to mask his feelings, and I could see his mild irritation at my previous question fade into amusement. He gave me a small bow.“No,” he said, “but I give you my word that I will of course behave in all respects as if I did.”I stared at him until I became aware that my mouth was hanging unattractively open. I closed it.“Fair enough,” I said.The odd little bubble of intimacy in which we had spent the last half hour had burst, and despite the fact that I had been the one asking nosy questions, I felt like a snail suddenly deprived of its shell—not merely naked but fatally exposed, emotionally as well as physically. Thoroughly rattled, I murmured a farewell and made for the door.

“Claire?” he said, a question in his voice.I stopped, hand on the doorknob, feeling quite queer; he’d never called me by my name before. It took a small effort to look over my shoulder at him, but when I did, I found him smiling.“Think of the deer,” he said gently. “My dear.”

I nodded, wordless, and made my escape. Only later, after I had washed—vigorously—dressed, and had a restorative cup of tea with brandy in it, did I make sense of this last remark.Its coming is a gift, he’d said of the white deer, which I accept with gratitude.

I breathed the fragrant steam and watched the tiny curls of tea leaf drift to the bottom of the cup. For the first time in weeks, I wondered just what the future might hold.“Fair enough,” I whispered, and drained the cup, the shreds of tea leaf strong and bitter on my tongue.

94 THE PATHS OF DEATH~An echo in the Bone

#the frasers #outlanderedit #outlander #outlander starz #outlander series #outlander fanart #jamie fraser #outlander book #outlander books #outlander spoilers #outlander season 7b #outlander 7x11 #claire beauchamp #dr claire randall #claire fraser #caitrionabalfe #david berry #lord john grey

69 notes · View notes

amethystarachnid · 9 days ago

Note

Would you consider involving Tony's parents in a one-shot? I've seen a few one-shots with his parents alive and being the best parents, and I really like that idea. If that's okay with you, I'd like to request 18. Resolution Reflections with Young!Tony Stark x f!Reader, his parents are throwing a New Year’s party and it's the first time Tony and Reader are spending it together and the first time she's going to his parents' house, they're going to love her and be proud of their son dating a good girl. At midnight, they share a kiss and their New Year’s resolutions/reflections, their shared dreams, and the promise to always achieve everything together, just pure fluff 🥰 and you can set in modern times, don't need to go back to the 90's 🥰

NEW YEAR EVE

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Young!Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Timeline: they're on their last year of high school

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.2k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ I think I went a little off track with this and I notice only now that the story is complete, I'm sorry if this isn't exactly what you asked :(

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The invitation comes casually, like most things with Tony. He’s lounging on your bed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other flicking a small gadget between his fingers—a prototype, no doubt, that he whipped up in his spare time. The room smells faintly of burnt solder, thanks to his earlier tinkering. You’re perched at your desk, trying to study, though it’s hard to focus with him stretched out there looking entirely too comfortable in your space.

“So,” he says, drawing the word out like he’s testing the waters. “What do you think about spending New Year’s Eve with me?”

Your pencil stills over your notes, and you glance at him with a raised brow. “That depends. What do you think about spending New Year’s Eve with me?”

He rolls his eyes, that playful grin pulling at his lips. “Obviously, I’m in. But there’s a catch.”

Your stomach flips a little, and you don’t know why. Tony catches your hesitation immediately because, of course, he always does. He props himself up on one elbow, his expression softening in a way that still catches you off guard, even after all this time.

“Hey,” he says, voice quieter now. “It’s nothing bad. I just… well, my parents are throwing their annual party, and I want you to come with me. Meet them.”

You blink, the words landing heavily in your chest. Meet them. As in Howard and Maria Stark. The man whose name is on every headline, whose brilliance (and sometimes questionable ethics) cast a shadow Tony can never quite escape. The woman who appears in magazine spreads looking flawless and untouchable, like a queen in designer couture.

“Tony…” you start, but he’s already scrambling off the bed, crossing the room to you in a few quick strides.

“Before you say no,” he interrupts, crouching beside your chair, “hear me out. They’ll love you. I mean, how could they not? You’re… you.”

You let out a soft laugh, though it’s more nervous than amused. “You’re biased.”

“Damn right I am.” He leans his chin on the edge of your desk, looking up at you with those warm brown eyes that can talk you into almost anything. “But I mean it. They’ve been bugging me to bring you around anyway. And this party? It’s just a bunch of people standing around drinking overpriced champagne and pretending to care about the ball drop. You’ll fit right in.”

Your chest tightens at the thought. Fit right in? Not likely. Tony’s world feels so far removed from yours sometimes, even if he never treats you that way. He’s always been good at making you feel like you belong, like it doesn’t matter that his idea of a normal day includes private jets and cutting-edge labs while yours involves coffee runs and library study marathons.

“I don’t know,” you say finally, chewing on your bottom lip. “What if they… what if I don’t make a good impression?”

Tony straightens up, tilting his head as he studies you. “You’re nervous.”

“Of course I’m nervous!” you blurt, your voice higher-pitched than you’d like. “Your parents are—well, they’re them. What if they think I’m… I don’t know, not good enough for you?”

His expression shifts, and for a moment, you think you’ve offended him. But then he reaches for your hands, pulling you to your feet. His grip is warm, steady, grounding.

“Okay, first of all, no one gets to decide that but me,” he says firmly. “And second, they’re going to love you. Trust me.”

The way he says it—like it’s an unshakable truth—makes your heart squeeze. Tony Stark isn’t always the best at expressing his feelings, but when he does, it’s impossible not to believe him. Still, the idea of standing in a room full of people who know Tony as the heir to one of the biggest empires in the world feels daunting.

“I don’t even know what I’d wear,” you mumble, trying to stall.

Tony smirks, his usual cocky confidence slipping back into place. “Oh, that’s easy. I’ll pick something out for you.”

You narrow your eyes. “If it’s anything like that weird futuristic dress you sketched for me last month, I’m saying no.”

“Hey, that design was ahead of its time!” he protests, though he’s laughing. “But fine, we’ll shop together. Deal?”

You sigh, the fight slowly draining out of you. It’s hard to say no to Tony when he’s this determined. And, deep down, you know he means well. He wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t think you could handle it—or if he didn’t want you there.

“Okay,” you say at last, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll go.”

The grin that spreads across his face is so boyish and unguarded, it almost makes you forget why you were worried in the first place. Almost.

The days leading up to the party pass in a blur of preparations. True to his word, Tony drags you to a boutique downtown, where he insists on finding the perfect outfit. It’s an exhausting ordeal—he vetoes nearly every dress you try on, claiming they don’t do you justice, until you finally settle on something sleek and elegant that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, you won’t stick out like a sore thumb.

“You look amazing,” Tony says as you step out of the fitting room, his gaze lingering on you in a way that sends heat rushing to your cheeks. “My parents won’t know what hit them.”

The night of the party arrives faster than you’d like. Tony picks you up in a sleek black car that’s almost too nice to sit in, dressed in a tailored suit that makes him look older, sharper, every bit the heir to Stark Industries. He whistles low when he sees you, offering his arm with a grin.

“Ready to make an entrance?” he asks, though he doesn’t wait for your answer before leading you to the car.

By the time you reach the Stark mansion, your nerves are a full-blown storm. The house is enormous, glowing with warm light against the crisp winter night. Guests in designer gowns and tuxedos mill about on the front steps, sipping champagne and exchanging pleasantries that sound more polished than genuine.

Tony squeezes your hand as you step inside, his touch a lifeline. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the low hum of jazz music. You spot waiters gliding through the crowd with trays of hors d’oeuvres that look too pretty to eat.

He leads you through the crowd with ease, pausing now and then to exchange pleasantries with people who seem eager to talk to him. You’re introduced as “Y/N,” no titles, no qualifiers, just your name. It’s both comforting and terrifying.

And then, there they are—Howard and Maria Stark. They’re standing near the grand staircase, an impressive pair that commands attention without even trying. Howard is tall and broad-shouldered, his sharp suit and carefully combed hair giving him an air of authority. Maria, by contrast, is elegant and understated, her smile polite but unreadable.

“Mom, Dad,” Tony says as you approach. “This is Y/N.”

Maria’s gaze softens as it lands on you, and she extends a perfectly manicured hand. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you,” she says, her tone warm but measured.

Howard offers a nod, his smile faint but not unkind. “Tony’s told us a lot about you.”

Your stomach twists, but you manage a smile, hoping it looks more confident than you feel. “It’s nice to meet you both,” you say, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

Tony’s hand brushes yours, a small, reassuring gesture that grounds you in the moment. For now, it’s enough.

Maria’s handshake is delicate but firm, her presence somehow simultaneously inviting and intimidating. As she releases your hand, you see her eyes flicker toward Tony, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Howard’s nod is accompanied by a polite once-over, as if he’s quietly assessing you but doing so in a way that doesn’t feel overly critical. For all your nerves, the atmosphere is not as icy as you had feared. Yet you’re acutely aware of the importance of this moment—these people are more than Tony’s parents. They’re titans of industry, figures who seem untouchable from a distance, and now they’re looking at you like they’re ready to get to know you.

“So,” Maria says, her voice smooth and composed, “we’ve been hearing about you for months now. It’s lovely to finally put a face to the name.”

“It’s lovely to meet you too,” you reply, hoping your voice doesn’t betray the butterflies rioting in your stomach. “Tony speaks about you often as well.”

Tony lets out a short laugh beside you, clearly amused. “Not too much, I hope. Don’t want to ruin the mystique.”

Maria chuckles lightly, her sharp eyes twinkling with subtle amusement. “Oh, I think we can handle it. So, tell us a bit about yourself, dear. Where do you come from? What’s your family like?”

It’s a straightforward question, but it feels loaded under the circumstances. Still, you’re determined to make a good impression.

“Well, I’m from Midtown,” you begin, smoothing the fabric of your dress unconsciously. “My family’s pretty small—just me, my mom, and my younger brother. My mom works as a nurse, and my brother’s still in middle school.”

Maria’s smile doesn’t waver, and there’s a flicker of interest in her expression. “That must keep your mother very busy. Nursing is such an admirable profession.”

“It does,” you agree, your confidence bolstered by her genuine tone. “She works long hours, but she’s amazing. She’s always been my role model.”

Howard’s deep voice cuts in next, not unkind but more direct. “And what about you? Tony mentioned you’re quite the student. What are your plans after high school?”

You glance at Tony briefly, catching the way he’s watching you—there’s a quiet pride in his eyes, a silent encouragement that steadies your nerves. Turning back to Howard, you answer honestly.

“I’m planning to go to college,” you say. “I’ve applied to a few schools already. I’m hoping to major in environmental science… maybe engineering. I’ve always loved the idea of building things or coming up with solutions to problems.”

Maria tilts her head slightly, her smile deepening. “Engineering? That’s wonderful. And very fitting, given who you’re dating,” she teases lightly, her gaze sliding toward Tony.

Tony grins, unfazed. “What can I say? I’ve got a type. Brilliant and beautiful.”

You roll your eyes at his shamelessness, but Howard chuckles, his posture relaxing slightly. “Good answer,” he says, clearly pleased with his son’s response. He turns back to you. “Environmental science, though. That’s not the most common choice. Why that field?”

You take a deep breath, finding your footing as the conversation shifts into territory you’re passionate about. “I’ve always cared about the environment,” you say. “I think it’s one of the biggest challenges our generation will face. And I want to be part of the solution. Whether it’s renewable energy, conservation, or designing more sustainable technology… it feels like something that matters.”

Maria’s gaze softens, and she exchanges a look with Howard. There’s something unspoken between them, an understanding that passes with a single glance. When Maria speaks again, her voice is warm, almost approving.

“That’s a very admirable goal. And one that’s becoming more important by the day.”

Howard nods in agreement, his demeanor shifting slightly as if he’s already decided you’re worth listening to. “It’s good to hear someone your age thinking about the bigger picture. Too many people overlook that kind of thing.”

You smile, your nerves easing with each passing moment. Their approval feels genuine, not forced or obligatory, and it gives you the confidence to keep going.

“I think it helps to have people around who believe in you,” you say, glancing at Tony again. “He’s been a big part of that for me.”

Tony’s grin widens, and he slips an arm around your waist, pulling you a little closer. “Don’t let her fool you,” he says. “She’s the one with the brilliant ideas. I’m just lucky to be around to hear them.”

Maria’s laugh is soft, but her eyes are bright as she watches the two of you. “You two seem very good for each other. It’s always nice to see that kind of balance in a relationship.”

Howard’s voice carries a hint of approval as he adds, “Tony’s lucky to have found someone like you. I’m glad he has someone who’s keeping him grounded.”

The words catch you off guard, but they warm you from the inside out. It’s the kind of sentiment you’d hoped for but hadn’t dared to expect. Tony, for all his bravado, has always had a complicated relationship with his parents. Hearing his father speak so openly about his pride in Tony’s choices feels significant, like a rare glimpse into a side of their dynamic you don’t often see.

“I’m lucky too,” you say softly, meeting Howard’s eyes. “Tony’s brilliant. And he’s always pushing me to do better, to think bigger. I think that’s what makes us work so well together.”

Tony’s arm tightens around you briefly, and you catch the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his neck. It’s rare to see him speechless, but the pride in his expression is unmistakable.

Maria’s smile grows, and she steps forward, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “You’re a lovely young woman,” she says sincerely. “And it’s clear you mean a great deal to Tony. Thank you for joining us tonight.”

The warmth in her words makes your chest ache in the best way. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been craving their approval until now, but the genuine kindness in Maria’s tone makes it all the more meaningful.

“Thank you for having me,” you reply, your voice steady despite the swell of emotion. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you both.”

Howard steps forward then, offering his hand again. This time, his grip feels a touch more personal, less perfunctory. “Keep an eye on him for us,” he says, a glint of humor in his eyes. “Lord knows he needs it.”

Tony groans dramatically. “Okay, okay, that’s enough parental bonding. Can we go check out the snack table now?”

Maria laughs softly, waving you off with a graceful flick of her hand. “Go, enjoy yourselves. We’ll talk more later.”

Tony doesn’t need to be told twice. He takes your hand, leading you away from the crowd and toward the quieter corner of the expansive room. Once you’re out of earshot, he stops, turning to face you with a mischievous grin.

“So? How’d I do?”

You blink, caught off guard. “You? What do you mean?”

He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I mean, did I pick the right moment to introduce you? Were the lighting and ambiance sufficiently romantic? Did I sell my pitch as the proud boyfriend?”

You laugh, the last of your nerves melting away. “You were perfect, Stark. But your parents? They’re…”

“Scary? Intimidating? Too good at making you feel like they’re reading your mind?” he offers, grinning when you nod.

“A little,” you admit. “But they were also… really nice. I think it went well.”

Tony’s expression softens, his cocky façade dropping for a moment. “Of course it did. They’d have to be crazy not to love you.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you,” he replies, his grin turning wicked. “Now, come on. Let’s grab some dessert before my dad ropes us into a conversation about corporate ethics.”

As he pulls you toward the snack table, his hand warm in yours, you realize that the evening is far from over—but for the first time, you’re not worried. Tony’s world may be big and overwhelming, but tonight, it feels like you belong there. And as you glance back to see Maria and Howard watching you both with quiet pride, you think they might just believe that too.

The grandeur of the Stark residence is even more overwhelming as the evening progresses. Every corner of the room seems to hold someone important, conversations buzzing with words like "stocks," "mergers," and "international markets." It’s a world you’re still adjusting to, and though Tony has never made you feel out of place, you can’t shake the occasional pang of self-consciousness.

Excusing yourself to the bathroom gives you a moment to breathe, away from the intensity of the crowd. You splash a little water on your wrists and smooth down your dress, giving yourself a pep talk in the mirror. You’ve already managed to win over his parents—something you hadn’t expected to happen so easily. Surely, you can handle the rest of the evening. After all, Tony is by your side.

When you step back into the main room, the sight of him immediately draws your attention. He’s standing near a sleek bar setup, surrounded by a small group of men in sharply tailored suits. Even in this crowd of CEOs and industry giants, Tony stands out. His confidence is palpable, his charisma effortlessly commanding the attention of those around him. You hesitate, unsure whether to approach. They’re deep in conversation, and the last thing you want is to interrupt or seem out of place.

For a moment, you consider waiting on the sidelines until the discussion wraps up. But as if sensing your presence, Tony glances up, his eyes finding yours almost instantly. A slow, warm smile spreads across his face, and he waves you over with a subtle beckon. The gesture feels intimate, personal—a quiet reassurance that no matter who he’s with, you’re always welcome.

As you approach, Tony’s smile deepens. When you’re close enough, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “There you are,” he murmurs, his voice low but unmistakably fond.

One of the men in the circle clears his throat, and you notice his expression shift into something between surprise and discomfort. He’s older, probably in his fifties, with a thin mustache and a stiff posture that screams corporate formality.

“I wasn’t aware you had… company tonight, Stark,” the man says, his tone carefully measured.

Tony smirks, clearly unbothered. “This is my girlfriend,” he says simply, his arm slipping around your waist. The ease with which he says it sends a thrill through you, though the reaction from the group is mixed.

“Your girlfriend?” another man echoes, his brows lifting in surprise. He looks between you and Tony, as if trying to piece together a puzzle. “Forgive me for asking, but whose daughter are you?”

You blink, caught off guard by the question. “Oh, I’m not…” you begin, glancing at Tony for help.

“She’s not anyone’s daughter in this room, if that’s what you’re asking,” Tony interjects smoothly, his tone laced with just enough edge to make it clear he doesn’t appreciate the implication. “She’s here because she’s incredible, not because of her last name.”

The mustachioed man—Mr. Carmichael, you think you heard someone call him earlier—looks visibly taken aback. “I didn’t mean to suggest—”

Tony cuts him off with a light laugh, though there’s an unmistakable sharpness beneath it. “Relax, Carmichael. I get it. You thought I’d be interested in your pitch about your daughter. Honestly, I’m flattered, but as you can see, I’m pretty happy with my current situation.”

The color drains from Carmichael’s face, and the rest of the group shifts awkwardly, clearly unsure how to proceed. You feel a mix of emotions—embarrassment, yes, but also a fierce kind of pride. Tony’s confidence in you, his unwavering refusal to let anyone question your place by his side, makes you stand a little taller.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, trying to smooth over the tension. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.”

“You’re not interrupting,” Tony says firmly, giving you a reassuring squeeze. Then, addressing the group, he adds, “Actually, I think you guys might want to hear from her. She’s planning to study environmental science and engineering. Pretty smart, huh?”

The shift in the room is almost comical. Where moments ago they seemed skeptical, even dismissive, now their expressions are filled with curiosity.

“Environmental science?” one of them repeats, his tone suddenly much friendlier. “That’s an interesting field. Are you planning to focus on renewable energy?”

You nod, a little hesitant but grateful for the opportunity to steer the conversation into more comfortable territory. “That’s one of the areas I’m really interested in,” you say. “There’s so much potential for innovation, especially with the way technology is advancing. I think it’s one of the most important challenges we can address.”

The man—his name tag reads “Jameson”—nods thoughtfully. “Smart choice. The industry’s going to need more forward thinkers like you.”

“Thank you,” you say, the praise giving you a small boost of confidence.

“And you’re still in high school?” another man asks, his tone tinged with disbelief.

“Yes,” you admit. “Tony and I are in the same grade.”

Carmichael, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet, finally speaks up. “High school, and you’re already thinking about global challenges like that. That’s… impressive.”

You’re not sure if his approval is entirely genuine or if he’s simply trying to recover from his earlier misstep, but either way, you offer him a polite smile. “It’s something I’m passionate about. And I’m lucky to have people around me who encourage me to aim high.”

Tony beams at that, his pride in you practically radiating. “She’s underselling it,” he says. “She’s not just aiming high; she’s going to change the world.”

The men laugh, but it’s not mocking—it’s the kind of laugh that comes with genuine admiration. For the first time, you feel like you belong in this circle, like they’re starting to see you as more than just Tony’s girlfriend.

The conversation continues, flowing more easily now. They ask about your thoughts on sustainability, your experiences in school, and even your plans for college. With each question, you find yourself relaxing, the initial tension fading as you focus on the topics you’re passionate about. Tony stays by your side the whole time, chiming in occasionally with his trademark wit but mostly letting you shine.

At one point, Jameson leans closer to Tony and mutters something you can’t quite catch. Whatever it is, it makes Tony laugh—a genuine, delighted sound that makes your heart skip a beat.

When the group finally disperses, Carmichael offers you a polite nod. “It was a pleasure meeting you,” he says, his tone markedly more respectful than when the conversation began.

“You too,” you reply, feeling a small sense of victory as he walks away.

Once you’re alone with Tony, he turns to you with a grin. “See? Told you they’d love you.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t hide your smile. “I think they were just surprised. They probably expected you to be dating someone… different.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Different how?”

“I don’t know. Someone from their world, I guess.”

He shakes his head, his expression turning serious. “You don’t have to be from their world to belong in it. You’re amazing, and if they can’t see that, it’s their loss.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. You lean into him, letting his warmth and confidence steady you. “Thank you,” you say softly.

“For what?” he asks, his tone lightening again.

“For making me feel like I belong here,” you admit. “Even when I’m not sure I do.”

Tony presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “You don’t just belong here,” he says. “You make this place better. Don’t ever forget that.”

As the evening continues, you find yourself settling into the rhythm of it all. The grandeur of the event doesn’t feel quite so intimidating anymore, and every time you catch Tony’s eye, you’re reminded of why you’re here. In his world, by his side, you feel like you truly belong.

The night unfolds in a swirl of laughter, conversation, and the occasional clink of glasses. You find yourself more comfortable now, moving through the party with Tony’s reassuring presence at your side. The grandiose world of the Starks—one that had once felt so intimidating—begins to feel a little more approachable. With Tony holding your hand or whispering jokes into your ear at every turn, it feels like you’re in on some kind of secret.

Eventually, you find yourselves slipping away from the crowd. The party hums on in the background, the faint strains of a string quartet mingling with the murmur of voices and the distant pop of champagne corks. Tony leads you down a quieter hallway, away from the main rooms, until you’re standing in front of a set of tall windows that overlook the sprawling grounds of the estate.

“Needed a breather?” you tease as he presses his forehead to the cool glass.

He glances at you, grinning. “I thought you might need one. Not that you weren’t killing it back there, but, you know, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to step away from the CEOs and their unsolicited opinions.”

You laugh softly, crossing your arms as you lean against the window beside him. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. I think I actually had fun.”

Tony straightens, his expression softening as he looks at you. “I knew you’d be amazing. I don’t think there’s anyone who can’t see it.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays your attempt to brush off the compliment. “You’re biased.”

“Absolutely,” he admits without hesitation. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

The glow from the lights outside casts his features in a warm hue, and for a moment, you lose yourself in the way he’s looking at you. There’s a tenderness there that makes your chest ache in the best way—a feeling that no matter how big his world is, you’ll always have a place in it.

“What about you?” you ask, breaking the silence. “Do you ever feel like you need a breather from all… this?”

He tilts his head, considering the question. “Sometimes. But you make it easier. When you’re here, it feels less like a circus and more like…” He trails off, his lips quirking into a wry smile. “I don’t know. Like it’s something I actually want to be part of.”

Your heart skips a beat at his honesty. “Tony Stark, are you saying I make you want to behave?”

“Let’s not go crazy,” he says with a laugh, though there’s a glimmer of seriousness in his eyes. “But yeah. You keep me grounded. And you remind me that there’s more to life than just impressing a room full of people.”

He reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. For a while, you stand there together, watching the stars outside and enjoying the rare quiet moment. The faint sounds of the party drift down the hall, but here, it feels like it’s just the two of you.

“Do you think we’ll still be doing this ten years from now?” you ask suddenly, the question slipping out before you can think too much about it.

Tony doesn’t hesitate. “I hope so. But maybe not this.” He gestures vaguely toward the distant murmur of the party. “Something better. Something ours.”

You glance at him, surprised by the depth of his response. “Ours?”

“Yeah,” he says, his tone casual but his gaze steady. “Like, I don’t know… maybe a New Year’s Eve on a beach somewhere. Or in some cabin in the mountains. Just us. No suits, no CEOs. Just you and me.”

The thought makes your cheeks warm. “That sounds… perfect.”

He grins, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple. “Then we’ll make it happen.”

For a while, you stay tucked away in your little corner, stealing a moment that feels like it belongs entirely to you. Tony tells you a ridiculous story about one of his father’s business trips, and you counter with a memory from a summer vacation when you and your brother tried to camp in your backyard but got scared off by a raccoon. You laugh until your sides hurt, your voices low and close in the quiet hallway.

As the clock ticks closer to midnight, Tony reluctantly pulls you back toward the main event. The energy in the room has shifted, the hum of anticipation building as the new year approaches. Guests gather in clusters, glasses of sparkling cider in hand, their conversations a little louder and their laughter a little freer.

Tony finds a spot near the center of the room, his hand never leaving yours as he leads you to stand by his side. The two of you are surrounded by a sea of faces, but all you can focus on is him.

“Two minutes to go,” he murmurs, glancing down at you with a small smile. “You ready?”

“For the new year?” you ask, feigning nonchalance. “I guess.”

He nudges you gently. “For everything. This year, next year… all of it.”

Your breath catches at the weight of his words, but before you can respond, the countdown begins.

“Ten! Nine!”

The voices swell around you, and you feel Tony’s hand tighten slightly around yours.

“Eight! Seven! Six!”

You glance up at him, and the way he’s looking at you makes the rest of the room fade away.

“Five! Four!”

Your heart pounds in your chest, each second stretching out as the moment draws closer.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

The room erupts in cheers, the sound of voices and clinking glasses filling the air. But all you notice is Tony as he leans in, his free hand cupping your cheek as his lips meet yours. It’s a kiss that feels like a promise—a declaration that no matter what the new year brings, you’ll face it together.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours, and his voice is soft, just for you. “Happy New Year, sweetheart.”

“Happy New Year,” you whisper back, your cheeks warm and your heart full.

The noise around you gradually fades into the background as the two of you share a quiet moment in the middle of the bustling crowd.

“So,” Tony says, his tone lighter now, “what’s your resolution?”

You think for a moment before answering. “To keep chasing my dreams. And to make sure we never lose sight of ours.”

He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I like that. Mine’s to make sure you know how proud I am of you every single day. And… maybe to be a little less reckless.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe?”

He laughs, the sound warm and familiar. “Hey, I’m a work in progress.”

You shake your head, but your smile lingers. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“Always,” he says, his voice filled with quiet certainty.

The two of you stand there for a while longer, watching as the party continues around you. People laugh, toast, and embrace, the room alive with celebration. But in your little bubble, it feels like the world has stopped.

As the night winds down, Tony pulls you close, his arm draped around your shoulders as you lean against him. The future feels vast and uncertain, but with him by your side, you’re not afraid. Together, you’ll face whatever comes next—one dream, one resolution, and one New Year’s kiss at a time.

37 notes · View notes

astrodances · 1 year ago

Text

"Now I've had the time of my life No, I never felt like this before Yes, I swear it's the truth And I owe it all to you"

This is a very, very special drawing for me. ✨

In September of last year, I watched Dancing With The Stars' "Step Into the Movies" special again, at the end of which they recreate "The Time of My Life" scene from Dirty Dancing. And that sent me on a nostalgia trip back to my high school theater days over a decade ago now, where the drama club accepted my idea to do a "Time of Our Lives" theme, and a performance for that song à la Glee. Mind you, I was mainly the stage manager/techie sort, but I did some scenes for the showcases, and participated in this song with my then-boyfriend, along with two other couples.

And while we were hanging out in the green room backstage, a friend took some pictures of us. Including the one that directly inspired this drawing of Webby + Lena.

This started out as a memory remix of that photo, after watching the DWTS special, because I thought these two lovebirds would be really cute subjects for it.

But once I got going, it turned into a love letter, for many things.

As part of the remix aspect of it, I now picture myself in Lena's spot in the photo, getting to have the short hair I wish I had had back then, and getting to wear a suit and tie! (Yes, in the original photo, I am wearing the dress and red bow Webby's sporting here, and I have long hair. 🙈 Though I will say here that the little heart necklace she's wearing is exactly like the one I had, too! :)) Drawing this was really cathartic for my nonbinary self. 💜

And as for Webby, in this remix, she represents someone that, in retrospect, I wish I had shared this moment with from back then. In many ways, she really was the Webby to my Lena. 💜💖💝

(Literally) beyond the subjects of this though, this is indeed very much a love letter to a lot of things, to passions. The background is pretty much a replica of the drama classroom wall we were in front of for the photo, at least as far as layout goes, with a few direct recreations of things that were on the wall and on the table there. Everything else was me being a passionate (theatre) nerd.

(Details (many details) of said nerdiness and alternate versions below the cut!)

I've included un-blurred and background-only versions (and a version with drop shadow lines on the girls, because why not? it's a cool effect!) below, but I just want to point out the details, because I'm so dang proud of this.

The posters/programs for The Phantom Blot of the Opera, Featherspray, Chickago, and My Fair Dewey are obvious duck-parody references to their real-world counterparts (with the latter being the exact poster they use in DuckTales, in Dewey's dream in "Nightmare on Killmotor Hill!" So thanks, Dewey! 😂). The Featherspray one was also included because Hairspray was one of the shows we did in high school! And lemme just say, creating theater posters is really fun!!

The MJ the Musical poster and the half-shown Notre Dame de Paris "Duckbill" right behind Lena's head are particularly special to me, since they (along with Phantom) are my favorite musicals, and getting to draw those two was especially fun!

The L'Orange Theater poster in the top-right is a bunch of duck easter eggs in one - the L'Orange Theater is mentioned and seen in the very first episode of DuckTales 1987, and of course, there's Aquarioon from DT17! Looks like it toured in Duckburg a long time ago. 😉

And the sheet music is the DuckTales theme! (Or at least the left side of it :P)

The "Congrats" card, calendar (the whale for upper half was my own touch), folder, page of random backstage stuff behind Lena's head (which includes little Star Trek and Darkwing Duck references), and golden "Theatre" card (with my old director's favorite quote) are directly from the photo (or at least based on what I could see through its blurriness 😝), as is the very edge of a cast photo in the upper-right. The purple note (totally not with any secret messages whaaaaat) below that, the certificate of excellence, and the little pride heart pins everywhere are little garnishes/dedications. 😊

The stage/theater diagram below the certificate is really cool, because that's a direct recreation (+ another hidden message) of a project a friend and I did for stagecraft back in our freshman year - I was even able to copy my own handwriting for the labels! 😄😂

The "Time of Our Lives" poster is a reference to the showcase I mentioned above that inspired all this, though the real-life poster looked very different, from what I remember.

The green bag below is sorta a nod to the secret pal exchanges we used to do during shows. 😉

And finally:

The Glittering Goldie show poster is me just having an absolute blast drawing her once again and coming up with something for her Blackjack days! And bonus - I'll be posting a gradient-only version of Goldie tomorrow! Really happy with how she turned out!

And the "All the World's a Stage" poster is me combining all of my theatre nerdiness with my passion for space and a good pun! 😁

ANYWAY...

I learned a lot with this drawing, about creating and about myself.

And I just had so, so much fun with it - it was all love, all passion, all happiness for this one. 💜💖💝

Wishing the same for all of you. ✨

Love, Astro 💜

#DuckTales #Webby Vanderquack #Lena Sabrewing #weblena #my art #long post #I just have a lot of feelings for this one 🥹#(the post itself kinda is a love letter? for future me as much as past me and present me. yeah let's go with that)#for real though still cackling over my design for the Phantom Blot of the Opera poster XD

186 notes · View notes

angstywaifu · 9 months ago

Text

The Lost Sister - Part 19

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC A/N: Hope you are ready to see our girl get angry at our boys. Garrick really needs to think before doing things sometimes. Being observant sometimes always doesn't pay off.

The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

That night I don’t see Xaden, Bodhi or Garrick. I had looked everywhere and come up short. I had even asked Mealladh if their dragons were there. When she came back with she couldn’t find their dragons I knew they were off doing something. But what? The last few days had been a blur. Violet and I had nearly been assassinated. Amber was now dead because of it. I had manifested my signet. And Jeremiah…. Jeremiah had gotten his and died. Jeremiah who had read some of Garrick’s mind. Who I had sworn was about to say Aretia before Xaden cut him off with his shadows. Why had Garrick been thinking about home? Yes my thoughts occasionally went back to there. But his thoughts had been panicked. Worried he would find out about something to do with Aretia. I was sure of it. That night my dreams took me home. To Aretia.

I wake to the sun shining through my window. I groan as I shield my eyes. I had left the curtain open like an idiot. Today was a very rare weekend day first years had off. And my dumbass had left my curtains open on the one day I could sleep in. Though it was still a small win, I had gotten to sleep in longer than I normally would. As my eyes adjust I notice the small package on my bedside table and a note attached to it. Someone had been in my room while I slept. Someone had gotten past my so called bodyguard. I sit up and carefully grab the note has my heart rate picks up. But as I see the handwriting it settles. It was Garrick’s.

’Sorry I wasn’t around last night. Hope this makes it up to you. - Garrick.’

I can’t help but smile at the note. We hadn’t gotten as much time together since we’d had our talk and celebration. Both of us busy. But I knew today I would have to find him and get what time I could. I had to talk to him and Xaden about my signet and the Jeremiah thing. I had to get answers. I was still yet to tell any professors about my signet. And I couldn’t delay it for much longer. I needed to start taking Professor Carr’s class. I needed to understand my signet and learn how to control it. Though so far I seemed to have pretty good control over it.

You have amazing control over it. You should be proud. Mealladh says to me.

I just feel like it has come so easy. Too easy. I reply.

I told you I picked you for a reason. You are perfect for this signet. This is only the beginning. But you do have incredible control over it already. I am proud of you. I can feel through the bond every word she speaks is true.

She throws her shield up leaving me alone again. She must be out hunting or something. I had felt her slight hunger through the bond as we spoke. I turn back to the package from Garrick and pull it into my lap. I pull on the string he used to wrap the brown paper around it. Inside is a box. When I open the lid a huge smile breaks over my face. Inside is one of my favourite treats from back home. It wasn’t something we could easily get back home either. It was something the Gryphon Riders would trade with us only a few times a year. My eyes go wide. Wait. Only those from Poromiel knew how to make this. They’d never taught us. Only Gryphon riders brought this to us. Garrick wouldn’t know how to make this. It’s as if my mind pieces it all together. The multiple nights they have been missing. Jeremiah reading Garrick’s mind and almost saying what I swear was Aretia. And now the food that sat in the box in my lap/ I throw my sheets off me as I quickly remove my sleep attire and pull on my uniform. I grab the box before running from my room. I push past Liam who tries to stop me till he see’s the box in my hands. I swear he goes slightly pale at the sight. But I don’t have time to ask him anything. I rush to the dining hall. Garrick or Xaden nowhere to be seen. I go to the gym next. Not there. I go to head to the flight field when I see Bodhi walk out from the dinning hall. I rush over to him. He smiles as I rush over.

”Where are they?” I demand, cutting him off as he goes to say hello.

His eyebrow furrows and then he looks down to my hands and see’s the box. I watch as his skin turns pale like he’s seen a ghost. He looks back up at me as he swallows nervously. He knows I’ve put it together.

”Ophelia I-”

”Take me to them. Now.” I cut him off angrily.

Bodhi merely nods before leading me into the academic building. Towards the tower Xaden and I had found to get away from the quadrant. I can sense how nervous and scared Bodhi is. His weakness right now is the truth they’ve been hiding from me. The truth that is about to come out. And he is scared. Our steps echo off the tower walls as we ascend the stairs. My heart thuds with each step I take. What the hell was I going to say? What the hell did I want to say? They’d lied to me. Hidden something important from me. As we ascend the last few steps I push past Bodhi and throw the door open. Garrick and Xaden turn to me, shocked at my sudden appearance as Bodhi slowly joins us.

“Is everything-”

I throw the box at Garrick, cutting his sentence short. Xaden goes pale as his eyes narrow and glare at Garrick.

”Want to explain how you got that?” I hiss at the men in front of me. “And don’t you dare say you made it. Because I know you didn’t.”

They all stare at me with guilt all over their faces. Except Xaden who looks like he might actually want to kill Garrick right now.

”You’re right. I didn’t make it. You know where I got it.” Garrick says in the most monotone voice I’ve ever heard from him as he looks me in the eyes.

I narrow my eyes at him. “I want to hear you say it.” I demand.

He gulps nervously and nods slowly. “Gryphon Riders.”

I turn to Xaden. “That’s why you panicked when Jeremiah locked onto Garrick’s mind. He was going to say Aretia before you cut him off. Wasn’t he?”

He begrudgingly tears his gaze from Garrick. “Yes. We had been talking about it before he burst into the courtyard.”

”And why were you talking about Aretia? Our home? Cause last time I checked it was gone.”

I was smart enough to piece together the puzzle in front of me. But I wanted to hear it from them. I needed to hear it from them. There was a reason Xaden had seemed so similar to our father recently. But I needed to hear it from the three people I held closest to me. The only family I had left.

Garrick and Xaden look at each other and they both nod, Garrick sighing in defeat as he prepares to tell me. He steps forward and holds the box out to me. I stare at it for a moment before I take it back angrily.

”Because we’ve been smuggling weapons to them. To help them. To protect them. To build an alliance with them. We’ve been doing it as soon as we were able to get away from the quadrant without raising suspicion.” He tells me quietly, as if he’s scared I will run off.

I can feel Garrick’s presence and I reach out. I can practically hear his rapid heartbeat beat through whatever connection I can make with this signet. He’s scared as hell. Everything him and Xaden have worked towards is out in the open. I also feel the worry of him losing me over this. He’s nervous at how angry I am. Damn right he should be.

”You’re building an alliance for another rebellion aren’t you?” I ask after silence falls over us.

Xaden stares at me intently as if trying to read my thoughts. His brow furrows in confusion before he nods. “Yes.”

I shake my head before walking back and forth in front of them. They hadn’t lied to me per say, but had kept something big from me. Something they all knew I would want to be in on. Aretia was my home. And we had all believed in my father’s course of action. Because it was the right thing to do.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why did you keep me in the dark?” I finally ask as I lean up against the railing over looking the quadrant.

“I just wanted to protect-“

I whip around to face Xaden who had stepped forward to talk to me. “To protect me? Gods, I don’t know how many times since I have been here that I have proven I don’t need protecting anymore! I am not that little girl you said goodbye to that day in Aretia!” I yell at him as Bodhi and Garrick look at us in shock, Garrick stepping back to stand near Bodhi.

“You’re my sister. A sister I thought died all those years ago. I will not lose you again!” Xaden fumes as he storms over to me.

“But you didn’t. I spent five years with him. Spent five years fighting for my life every single day. One wrong move and he would have ended me and we both know that. Five years I played the part he wanted me to play. The small naïve Riorson daughter who didn’t know better at the time. I fought every single day to make sure I could come back to you all. So don’t you dare say to me I need fucking protecting Xaden. Because I have proven I can look after myself. I have proven I don’t need any of you to do it for me. Because I did it for myself for five years.”

Garrick and Bodhi stand behind Xaden frozen in place as we stand toe to toe. Xaden and I had never raised a voice at each other. Yes we would butt heads and say some colourful words at each other. But this was a first. Bodhi and Garrick looked torn at pulling us apart or coming to defend the girl they use to know. I was not letting them push me around and coddle me like the young girl I was. I had proven I could defend myself.

“I don’t need your bodyguard. I don’t need you to have the other marked ones keep eyes on me like I’m some fragile little girl. She died the day she left Aretia.”

“Yes she did die. She literally did for all of us five years ago. We all thought you were dead. I cannot go through that again. I won’t go through that again.” He almost pleads to me as he goes to put his hands on my shoulders. “Just let us watch-“

“No!” I yell as power surges through me.

All of a sudden we are not standing in the tower anymore over looking the quadrant and the valley surrounding. We’re standing in the courtyard of Aretia. Except it’s were not. Its not real. There’s a sheen to it as if it’s a figment of our imagination. All four of us staring at our surroundings in awe. Xaden is the first to snap out of it as he turns back to me, his eyes wide with shock. I had somehow managed to feed on our collective weakness right now. Our home. Our home was our weakness and we would all fight for it. Like we were right now. I had somehow projected it for us all to see.

“How…. How did you do that?” Xaden asks as I look back at him.

“I-I don’t know. It just kind of happened.” I say as I look around in shock.

The image of Aretia slowly fades away, putting us back in the tower. Back in the quadrant. As it does so I can feel the presence in my head that I had tugged at. Xaden. I had pulled at his presence. But I hadn’t fully felt it when I did. As if my mind had reached out with out me willing it during my out burst at Xaden.

“You need to keep that part to yourself. If the professors find out you can do that…. They might see you as innistic.” He says sternly.

I slowly nod my head. He was right. Even though we were yet to tell the Professors I had manifested my signet, revealing I could cast projections like that would definitely have them questioning me. As Xaden had always said, I had an uncanny ability to see peoples strengths and weaknesses. And now it seemed I could project on that. Make them see it. Something the higher ups would want to either cut out or use for themselves. And I’m sure Melgren would find a way to keep me for himself if he found out. Seems I could do a lot more than just will things to move with my mind.

Behind him Bodhi and Garrick are staring at me shocked. They had seen me throw someone against a wall and float things towards me. But being able to get in someone’s head and project something like that was something neither of them had expected.

“Now can you please let me in on this. Let me fight for our home again. Let me help.” I plead to Xaden. “You know my signet can help. I can help. I want to fight for my home.”

He sighs before shaking his head. Torn at if to let me help, or keep trying to protect me. “You need to get it under control first. But you are right as much as it pains me to say.”

“Xaden.” Garrick goes to start before Xaden raises a hand silencing him.

Garrick’s lips tighten into a thin line as he holds back the words he wants to say.

“I can’t let you on the supply runs. It’s too risky with a first year. Too hard to explain. Especially if Melgren is keeping an eye on you. But I can tell you what is going on. Next year I can give you more. I’ll need someone to help Bodhi here when Garrick and I have graduated.”

I can tell the words are hard for him to say. But he knows I can help. Even if it’s just being in on what’s happening, it’s better than being left in the dark. Eventually my signet could be a big help. Meaning I would need to focus as much time as I could into mastering it and strengthening it. I let out the breath I didn’t realise I was holding as my anger starts to dull.

“And no more bodyguard.” I add as I look between Garrick and Xaden. “I’ve proven I am just as good as Liam.”

Xaden goes to object as Garrick steps forward and places a hand on his shoulder. “She’s right Xaden. She doesn’t need one. She has proven she can defend herself as much as I hate to say iot. She’s not the girl we use to know. And if you ever get worried she can stay in my room. I’ll look after her.”

Xaden looks between the two of us. Clearly he’s not overly impressed about the idea of Garrick and I sharing a room even though he is happy we finally sorted our shit out. But eventually he slowly nods. Garrick would pretty much always be with me minus some classes, where I would be with Liam anyway. Meaning outside of classes Liam would only have to keep his focus on Violet.

“Fine. But I swear to gods you two better put up silencing wards. I do not want to hear anything.”

Part 20 Tag List

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh @leptitlu @came-to-laugh-but-cried @onthewaytotimbuktu @daardyrnitta @lovemesomevesey

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #the empyrean #the fourth wing #garrick tavis #garrick tavis x reader #garrick tavis imagine #garrick tavis x oc

111 notes · View notes

himasgod · 2 months ago

Text

Eula x Reader

(Not angst, for once and for all! It's her birthday so I wanted to dedicate a one-shot to my beautiful girl. I was also hesitant about writing a eula x fem! reader smut for her birthday, but I'll see if I write it or not. Enjoy! 0.7k words)

Where Eula relaxes with you after a week of missions

The cool wind of Mondstadt caressed your face as you walked down the dirt roads that led you to the outskirts of the city. You had received an unexpected letter from Eula. Her elegant handwriting invited you to one of the beaches where she used to spend time with her recon team. An unofficial date, perhaps, but you were surprised that she had made the effort to contact you after her long weeks away.

Eula was as unpredictable as a storm, you knew that well, but beneath her facade of ice and arrogance there was something that attracted you irremediably, a force that always seemed to be in conflict with itself. She was proud, stubborn, and above all… misunderstood. Being a Lawrence, someone whose history was tied to Mondstadt’s dark past, had condemned her to a life of solitude and scornful glances, and although she always insisted on her search for “revenge,” you knew that what she really wanted was to find her place.

You reached the shore where the waves gently crashed against the rocks. Eula was there, her back to you, contemplating the horizon. Her silhouette looked like a picture of serenity frozen in time, but you knew that, as always, her mind was at war with itself.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” she said without turning around, her voice loaded with that mix of coldness and haughtiness that seemed to be her usual way of starting a conversation.

“And letting you take revenge on me for ignoring you, do you really think I would give you that satisfaction?” you answered with a soft smile, searching her gaze.

Finally, Eula turned to you, her ice-blue eyes watching you carefully. She always seemed to be measuring every word, every gesture.

“I don’t joke about revenge,” she replied, her expression serious but with a small spark of irony. “But… I’m also glad you’re here.”

That last comment took you by surprise. Eula wasn’t usually direct with her feelings, always hiding them behind her sharp words and distant attitude. Seeing her break, even if just a little, that barrier made you feel closer to her than ever.

You sat next to her on the sand, letting the sound of the waves fill the silence that was created between the two of you. It was a pleasant stillness, not uncomfortable. For a while, neither of you said anything. It was as if you both needed that respite after so much time separated by Eula’s missions, by her life always full of responsibilities and struggles.

“How was the mission?” you asked finally, wanting to break the ice.

“Successful, as always,” she answered, her tone cutting, but you noticed the slight satisfaction in her voice. “But it was… exhausting. Sometimes, the true enemy isn’t the Abyss Order or monsters, but the shadows of the past.”

You knew Eula was talking about her last name, about the burden of being a Lawrence in Mondstadt. You’d seen it before, how even after saving lives and protecting the city, people still looked at her with distrust. It was never enough, it never would be.

“You are more than your last name, Eula,” you said softly, moving a little closer. “And you know it.”

She sighed, a dry laugh escaping her lips. “And what am I then? A knight who constantly seeks revenge? A warrior who barely fits in her own home?”

“You are all that, and so much more,” you said firmly. “You are strong, loyal, and though you deny it, you are kind. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”

For a moment, Eula looked at you with an expression she rarely showed. Vulnerability. It was as if, only with you, she could afford to let her guard down. Without warning, you reached out her hand, and for a second, you thought she was going to quickly push it away, but she didn’t. Her fingers brushed against yours, a light touch but full of meaning.

“Maybe… only with you I don’t have to keep up appearances,” she murmured, her words a barely audible whisper over the sound of the sea.

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew that small gesture, those few words, were more than enough. In her own unique, twisted way, Eula was letting you into her world, a world where vengeance was just a mask and loneliness was a constant struggle.

You leaned into her, resting your head on her shoulder. “You’re not alone, Eula. Not anymore.”

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t push you away either.

The waves continued to crash softly, like a quiet melody marking the end of an internal battle.

You and Eula had finally found a moment of peace amidst the ever-changing tides of your life.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #eula x reader #eula lawrence #eula genshin #eula x you #idk how to tag this again

22 notes · View notes

maybeitsalivescribbles · 11 months ago

Text

TTD - And then They Were Roommates ™

Before Villain was their roommate, Hero never had any peculiar feeling about their apartment. They were grateful to have a roof over their head, but were not particularly picky about how it looked like under. It wasn’t like they had the kind of time to arrange the place. To be honest, with their working hours, they didn’t see why they would find energy left for this. As long as they had a bed and electricity, it was fine. The result was a reasonably clean room, but a rather bland place. The only thing that was really personal was the vanity in the bathroom, covered with hair products and beads of all colors. At Villain’s displeasure, Hero spent hours in front of it, because unlike some people whining from behind the door, they had their priorities well in order.

True, Hero had felt a bit insecure when Villain had entered for the first time, stopping in front of every furniture with such solemnity you’d swear they were staring at a masterpiece in a museum. Flustered, the not-so-proud owner had explained that they were not that rich, but Villain had seldom made any comment, and well, with their shadow covering them it wasn’t like their body language was readable. Maybe they were tired too, and after their place had just been destroyed by Supervillain it was understandable. They’d glistened towards the guest room and locked their door without a word.

The agency had called in the middle of that night for news. Hero, toying with their blanket, had assured their superior on the phone that yes, Supervillain had been destroyed for good, no they weren’t making it up, and oh by the way, Villain had reformed and changed their ways, hmmhmm, yep, definitively. On the other side of the line, that declaration was met by no little skepticism. After one hour of pleading, they’d at last convinced their interlocutor not to send a team to eliminate the threat. The next day, they were ordered to keep Villain under lock and key. Villain had stared when they’d shyly explained the situation to them, brandishing a padlock they didn’t really know how to use, and had only said:

“I could open this pathetic thing in my sleep.”

Given how gifted Villain was with building tools and machines, it was probably no idle boast. The good news, though, was that they’d accepted to stay in their room whenever they were left alone as long as Hero would give them an old game-boy left in a drawer for years to keep them occupied. As time passed, it became evident that Villain was an indoor creature who was delighted at the idea of not stepping outside ever again. In return, Hero had given them pretty much whatever they wanted, including scraps of metal and lots of tools. At first, they’d said nothing, but when parts of the room had began to be covered with sinister forms, they’d felt they had to put their foot down:

“You are not building a torture room in my place.”

“What else am I supposed to do, you oppressor ?”

“I’m the one paying the taxes.”

Villain had sulked for a moment after that, but then they’d suddenly asked:

“Aha, but what if my torture tools were also useful appliances?”

Hero had stared and said:

“No.”

“No as no or no as it can’t be?”

“Both.”

“You have little faith.”

Villain had immediately put themself to work. In an alarmingly short time, they’d built a tiny guillotine for the kitchen. It could cut even coconuts properly, in one strike. Hero couldn’t use it much, because it made them feel sorry for the poor vegetables (especially after seeing Villain do it, yelling “death to all of you, you feeble preys!” at a bunch a carrots), but they had to acknowledge it was a decent tool to slice a loaf of bread. Actually, Villain was good with the kitchen in general. Being disturbingly fond of cutting vegetables and fruits, it was no surprise that they’d fallen in love with the blender Hero had never used before:

“For what it is but a miniature death trap, where my innocent victims are trapped in a transparent prison and melted into oblivion by unforgiving blades?”

Hero had asked what kind of blade would be forgiving, and they’d got lightly tapped on the head with a cardboard tube for their trouble. But the outcome of all of this was a fridge always filled with bottles full of drinkable food that never got Hero’s stomach upset. Villain had even made a damn acupuncture chair which spikes looked deadly, but were in fact quite soothing. After that they’d stood up, and Hero just knew that they were puffing their chest behind their shadow:

“So, have I succeeded in my impossible task?”

And Hero could do nothing but answer:

“Yes. Completely. It’s genius.”

And it was. Really, the biggest beef they had was the time when Villain had stolen their two favorite magnets on the fridge. They’d stopped dead in front of the aro and ace pride flags that fixated the to-do lists of the day, declared that green, purple and black were traditional colors for villains and so they were “bound to have them”, had yoinked them and flied back to their room before Hero had time to react. And as much as they were for people exploring their own identity, how were they supposed to keep their groceries list in sight now?

But none of this was the weirdest thing. It was the fact that whenever Hero returned to their place with all these strange additions, it didn’t feel bad or crowded. It was the strange new and warm feeling that finally they were home, they were home, they were home.

(Though they still wanted their magnets back.)

Check the These Two Dorks Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with this Hero and Villain. This is how they met and now they’re roommates.

Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.

104 notes · View notes

zarvasace · 3 months ago

Note

It’s “appreciate yourself” hours! Pick five pieces of writing/art that you’ve done that you love and talk about them! ❤️❤️❤️

Ahhhh okay, thank you!! 💜🌻 I finally have a free moment (aka work is slow) so I'm going to work on drafting this out :) I have far too much art I'm proud of—I'm at a stage in my progress right now where I think my art looks pretty awesome. So this list will be stuff from my Greatest Hits collection on AO3. In order of oldest to newest, I think:

incandescently happy

An LU post-adventure work, one of the first longer fics I posted. I released one chapter a day over the summer of 2022, so a lot of the notes have something about my day in them. It's about 30k all told.

I absolutely adored expanding on what the boys might do after the whole LU adventure happens (though I did forget about the fact that I think Time and Malon have a kid during this time!) This work features some proto-Shatterproof stuff, like Wind having a prosthetic leg and Four starting to specialize in crafting prosthetics/disability aids. I gave Hyrule longer hair and a job making maps for the royal family. Legend got another adventure but also started a magic garden/orchard, which pulls in more business than Ravio's stuff. Four and his grandpa adopted a single mother and her two kids. Man I went off with some of these headcanons. I've always considered writing more in this world, but I think it stands very well on its own. Maybe someday I might revisit and rewrite it with some of my new skills. :)

Rise and Shine and Fall

Whumptober 2022, focused entirely on LU! Guys this thing is almost 78k. I realize now that most people pre-plan or pre-write for things like Whumptober, but I wrote these one by one every day, which was extra-hard because I had both college classes and a day job at the time. I came up with some fun AUs, learned a lot about writing (especially whump), and proved to myself that I can do hard things like this!! I've adored doing daily challenges since, though I haven't done it in a while. I look forward to this year's whumptober though!

I really like the table of contents in the first chapter—it makes things easy to find. I know individual works are probably more accessible, but I was still getting to know AO3, and those big numbers are fun. XD I have a hard time picking favorites, because I really went off on these, but I'd say a couple of them are:

Chp 3, "Right Here" about Sky

Chp 7, "Proof of Life" about Four and Shadow

Chp 18, "I'm onwy a babey :(" about Wind

Chp 21, "6:13" about Hyrule and Time

Chp 26, "Silence is Golden" about Wild

Chp 31-32, "The Worst Thing About Earth" about Legend, but kind of more specifically the rewrite/expansion I did last year... haha...

The Marvelous Misadventures of Wind and His Merry Band or Maybe-Human Heroes

It's been a while since I updated this story (56k, 6/8 chapters), but it's constantly on my mind. I've started chapter 7 twice, and I know what I want to happen, but I am easily distracted by the siren call of some other whump fics. XD

I freaking love this story, though. I really want to finish it. It's kind of an... experiment? I guess? I want to get published someday, and I picture myself writing middle-grade novels. This story is sort of my attempt to hit that tone. Also I just love Wind so so so much. Let him be cool!!

Blood-Sucker's Guide to High School

56k Four Swords completed story! I wrote this in a frenzy of like two or three weeks, then took another two to edit. It takes plot points from a vampire novel I enjoyed and twists and applies them to a story about Shadow and the Four Swords manga boys. I'm very proud of what I accomplished here, and that it's a complete story! I think it worked out really well. I learned a lot about plotting and handling larger stories, and it helped that I had the half-remembered structure of an existing novel to use as training wheels.

I love the worldbuilding in this story! The premise is that Shadow is an evil soulless vampire from a (rather abusive, not that he sees it) family of the same, but then he gets the ability to walk in the sunshine. He's assigned to go to high school for a while to get a feast for the vampire gala, but meanwhile he's developing a conscience and getting very attached to these human boys. I think I did a good job. I love rereading this, every scene is just so fun! :)

Counterbalance

55k exactly of a stupid LU darks AU. This started life as a series of oneshots and then the plot progressively got more and more convoluted and I love these stupid boys so much. The plot is very much not tight, in contrast to Blood-Sucker's Guide, but I learned a lot about how I write and how I like to plan with this one, too.

The characters are stupid and the plot is just kinda silly and there is both a bathhouse scene AND a spa scene. Legend blows up multiple things, my lovely nasty little Dark Links need smacks and therapy, and Prince has a legitimately emotional moment at the end. I love how it turned out, it's like an ugly little stuffed animal I made and hug until the eyes pop out.

That's five but I would be extremely remiss if I did not also mention something from Shatterproof:

The Incredible Shrinking Chain

About 10k, this is entry 31/68 in my series Shatterproof, which is a close-canon AU in which each of the boys has a different physical disability. This series also plays into my publishing ambitions, because whatever I publish will very likely have some disability representation. I'm rather passionate about it, actually! Shatterproof is close to my heart, and I'm so honored that so many people seem to love it too. :) I need to work on the next entry again!!

This entry in particular is so much fun. In it, the whole Chain sans Four is stuck mouse-sized, and Four has to travel out to Twilight's castle with them to get Dusk to help break the curse. They all have to figure out how to navigate while tiny, and Four pulls some very silly stunts. I love them.

Anyway, there's my list!! I've written a lot over the last like two and a half years, and I'm so so glad that I get to be here and part of this community. The LU fandom as a whole (or at least the parts I've seen!) is so welcoming and positive and I try to give back where I can! I'm going to suggest looking through my bookmarks and ultimate rec list collection to find some new favorites from some very talented authors! :) (oof I need to update the collection soon!! I've been seeing some awesome stuff!)

#my writing #<3 #fic rec

21 notes · View notes

skywarpie · 4 months ago

Text

In the Shadow of Memories

Anyway, ao3 is down and my computer is broken, so you guys get the fic here for the time being.

Tw: nothing much except isolation, and depression. But nothing like super bad. Nsft at the end and use of sex as a vice ig

Word count: 3,758

Summary:

Copia learns he doesn't have to be alone anymore.

Longing is something that he sometimes thinks he was born with. An itch that can't be scratched, save only for the sake that no one offers to scratch it. The longing of childhood – knowing that he never fits in no matter what. How he watched the other children as he was growing up, saw how their parents doted on them. How their siblings poked fun at them. It was something he never had, even though it was no further than arms length away.

He was seven when he slowly began to piece the pieces together.

Sister Imperator, though stern, seemed to show favoritism to him. It did nothing to help his social standings.

Then he'd overheard her speaking to Nihil. Talking about how their child was not shaping up to be everything he should be. Copia had wanted to scream at them, but it would draw attention to himself, and that didn't really bode well for eavesdropping.

Shortly after he'd tried to make connections with the elder three brothers.

Primo had seemed indifferent. Kind but indifferent.

Secondo had ignored him altogether, acting like he didn't even exist. Sometimes he didn't feel like he really did.

Terzo had – well Terzo had been his last hope. They were closer in age than the other two. Sure he was nearly fifteen years his senior, but it couldn't hurt to try, right? As a result of his hopefulness, Terzo had taken advantage of every situation, doing any and everything and leaving Copia to take the blame for. He was well aware Copia would never voice his own innocence.

By age ten, he'd been reprimanded more than any other child in the ministry for crimes he wasn't responsible for. Sister's irritation had grown and Papa Nihil’s hatred had taken a dark turn. Sometimes he shut the door in Copia's face, sent him on wild goose chases, it was all too much.

It shouldn't have been any surprise when a ghoul fetched him from his lessons one morning. Informed him his things had been packed and he would be set on a train to the airport. From there, he would make his way to Rome, where he would stay for the foreseeable future.

He'd wanted to ask. Why am I being sent away? I can be better. Where is Sister Imperator? Why wasn't she taking him to the airport?

But he already knew all the answers to those questions.

He was a bother. Cumbersome in a small bubble that held the Emeritus line, something that was already fragile enough without his unannounced parenthood.

Copia remembers trying to hold the large ghoul's hand as he stood in the airport. Wanting some sort of comfort, even if it was from someone sending him away. Instead, he'd been scolded. Told he should know better at his age.

He'd retracted his hand as if burnt and boarded the plane without so much as a hug, let alone a goodbye.

—

The years slowly bleed together as time continues its endless march.

Now at the young age of twenty-six, Copia has managed to become the youngest Cardinal in the church. He should be proud of himself, happy that he's accomplished something, but he's not. Being completely abandoned by one's family tends to have that sort of effect. Since his arrival here, Sister has sent not a single letter. He should know better but it doesn't sting any less.

“Are you listening?”

Cardinal Astra's voice draws Copia from his spiraling thoughts. “Huh?”

“Where do you go, piccolo ratto?”

Astra has been nothing but Hell sent from the day Copia arrived. The man had taken him under his wing and for a short while Copia got to truly experience what it felt like to have a figurative father. Even now, he still looks over Copia. He just wishes Astra's love could heal that continued hole inside himself. Maybe if he'd been his father instead of Nihil, maybe he wouldn't feel this way.

“I – I am sorry.” Anxious eyes travel downward to settle on the stone floor. He gets lost often, something everyone is accustomed to.

Cardinal Astra smiles softly. “Working hours are over. You are free to leave this cramped office and spend time with your friends.”

Friends. That word makes him nauseous. He's never had friends. He's had acquaintances but never friends.

“Ah – ehm – apologies.” Copia jumps up quickly, collecting his paperwork. “I will leave now. I –”

Astra grabs his wrist. “Copia, you do not need to hide yourself away. We are a congregation and we take care of each other, no?”

Copia nods, knowing he will not be doing that.

–

Copia grunts as his face is pushed further into the sheets. One eye squished shut. The other is trying to remain open despite the massive hand planted on his cheek. A brother of sin mounts him from behind, hips pounding into him like a jackhammer. He should feel something – anything, Copia knows this. Yet his cock hangs limp between his legs, swaying every now and then with each thrust. Copia knows he won't cum tonight. The brother of sin is a bit too harsh for his liking, but then again, Copia hasn't ever cum during these trysts at all to begin with.

A squeak escapes him as the brother thrusts at an uncomfortable angle. Unfortunately for Copia, the man takes it as encouragement and begins pistoning his hips in that motion until he finally cuts.

Copia clamps his eyes shut tight as what should be warmth from the cum inside him is slightly uncomfortable rather than pleasurable. The man pulls out with a grunt, flopping down beside him.

“Fuck that was good.”

Well, at least someone enjoyed it.

It's not like he agrees to these things because he necessarily wants them, rather than in times of desperation for other human touch he'll take a partner to bed. Sometimes he goes to their bed. It depends on his mood at the time.

He's also found himself preferring the brothers to the sisters. The brothers are easily able to over power his lithe frame, manhandle him in any way they want. Sometimes if Copia closes his eyes he can almost imagine it's a loving hug.

But it's not and it never will be.

Copia grunts as he tries to stretch his body out. The position having left him in a cramped state. He squeaks as a hard slap meets the meat of his ass.

“For a twitchy little guy, you sure are a good lay.”

It's a joke – or rather it should be, judging by the way the man laughs breathlessly.

Copia's barely had time to pull his face from the sheets before the brother is dressing and collecting his things. He says something, but honestly Copia doesn't bother to register it. He's leaving anyway. They always leave after.

–

He grabs the towel, drying off his hair and then his body. Then he steps out of the shower, discarding the towel.

Copia wipes the condensation from the bathroom mirror. He sees – honestly, he isn't sure what he sees looking back at him.

His reflection is tired. Even without the black eye makeup. His ribs poke out just a bit too much to be considered healthy. A tired sigh leaves his lips as his gaze settles on the bruises that decorate his whole body. It's a symbol that at least for a short while someone considered him something worthy of love. Even if it was just for a quick fuck.

Copia rubs his eyes before grabbing his robe and wrapping himself in the fluffy fabric. It grounds him. Gives him something to hold onto, to prove he's real.

He makes his way to his bedroom and lies on his back on the freshly changed sheets. He stares at the ceiling. Maybe tomorrow will be another day. A better one.

It won't be, but maybe he can hope.

–

The pen scratches against the paper as he signs off on another document. By now, he's more than positive that he could sign his own name with his eyes closed. That's not really something to be proud of, so to say. But there isn't really much to be proud of when it comes to him.

“You missed breakfast.”

Cardinal Astra stands in the doorway, tray in hand.

Copia knows how lethargic he must look when he glances up. “Mi dispiace. I have been working on this.” He motions to the paperwork.

Astra purses his lips. “You also missed lunch.”

Oh please, don't do this again. Please. Please. Please.

“And it seems that you also missed dinner last night. If the ghouls are to be believed.”

Copia tries to respond but he's shushed.

“We talked about this, Copia. It is unhealthy. You must eat.”

It's not that he doesn't want to eat, so much as what has he done to deserve it? Did he finish all his paperwork? Did he answer correctly when asked questions? Is he even worth keeping around?

It's easy for him to brush it off as forgetfulness. Oh, I was so busy I forgot to eat. Silly me! It doesn't work on anyone, but then again, does anyone even care? Well, besides Astra.

“Sì. Sì. I am well aware of that.”

Is he though? If he was he wouldn't be putting himself through all this emotional and physical turmoil.

“I just – just got distracted.”

Copia sees the look he receives. Distracted enough to still be able to take a brother of sin to your bed?

Copia wilts.

Astra heaves a sigh as he comes fully into the room, shutting the door behind him.

No. No. No. This is not good.

“I had planned to tell you this over dinner last night.” He heaves another sigh. “You are leaving the abbey by the end of the month.”

Leaving? His head is spinning a mile a minute. What has he fucked up now? Why's he never able to fucking do anything right? Why – “Be-because I missed a few meals?” Copia hates the way his voice cracks.

“No.” There's a pregnant pause and Copia finds himself spiraling even more. “Your mo – Sister Imperator, requests that you return to the main abbey.”

“What?”

Astra smooths the front of his cassock. “I have no say in the matter, piccolo ratto. If I did, you'd never have to leave this place.”

He doesn't want this. He wants to stay here, in Rome. He wants –

“Sometimes He gives us obstacles that he thinks will strengthen us. Even if they seem like punishments at the time.”

It's then that Copia finally breaks down. He's being sent away as a punishment yet again.

–

The Swedish abbey is larger than he remembers. It's colder – not a surprise, and more densely populated. Albeit polite, a majority of the siblings look at him with disdain. He's a high ranking newcomer, of course they would.

The first week had been odd. Imperator doted on him as if she were a loving mother finally seeing her son again. Only one of those things was true.

She'd ensured he knew where is office was. How far away his room was. How much paperwork he was to expect and it was expected to be done.

She'd even introduced him to a gaggle of ghouls. Saying that since he ranked so highly, he required protection. Something told him it was just so she could spy on him. Copia was already a nervous man, this did nothing to help ease the issue.

It was easy to fall into a quick routine. The paperwork is really no different than what he did in Rome. It's the one familiarity in this new foreign land.

Unlike his younger self, Copia makes no effort to engage his brothers. He already knows how those interactions will end. Him with an even more broken heart and the feeling of isolation strangling him.

It still confuses him how Sister acts. When he was younger, she never even gave him a glance. Now it's like he was some sort of prodigal son returned to his home.

It made his skin crawl.

–

Slowly, Copia begins to acquaint himself with the ghouls.

Cirrus and Cumulus, the two ghoulettes seem to welcome him with open arms. Cumulus is quick to always have a firm hand on his upper arm. She'll then flash him a smile and it leaves Copia at a loss that someone else he hardly knows is aware of how to calm him. Cirrus is always first to give praise. Good boy! Oh, Cardinal, you work so hard. Take a break. It makes his head swim and he feels like he's in a fog at sea.

It doesn't take long for him to piece together that ghoul packs are female dominant. After the two of them start treating him like one, Copia notes how the other ghouls begin following the same act.

Rain is quiet. Mostly communicating through chirps and trills. He's small, not the smallest, but it's clear he's the youngest. In no time, Copia finds himself with a lap full of ghoul anytime he's in the den. It's almost comforting.

Mountain is – large. So much so that Copia has to tilt his head back to even see the ghoul's face. Not only is he the largest ghoul Copia has ever seen, but he's also the most quiet. The ghoul hardly ever makes a sound.

Swiss is…well, Copia isn't sure how to feel about Swiss. He seems feral most of the time, stalking the rooms, looking for something or someone to get into. It makes Copia uneasy and he tries to avoid him at all costs.

Dewdrop is entirely unapproachable. The ghoul hisses and spits anytime Copia is even in the same room as him. His words are just as harsh as his bite. On more than several accounts, Copia has left the room feeling like he is the size of an ant.

Then there's Aether.

The ghoul is large. Not as large as Mountain, but he's stocky. Oftentimes when in his company, Copia finds himself wondering how those large arms would feel encircled around him. How Aether could easily manhandle him into whatever situation he wants. It sends a chill down his spine and it often ends with him in his room at night, cock in hand and working himself to completion.

It's a nice change from the typical absence of arousal he's felt. But it's also frightening. What does this say about him? That he's so desperate he's gone to fantasizing about ghouls – his ghouls. It's a new feeling he's unfamiliar with and it fills him with dread. It's bad enough his habit of taking partners to bed has followed him here, but if Imperator finds out he's having feelings – let alone relations with his ghouls, well…that could be disastrous.

–

“Cardinal?”

Aether's smooth voice settles in Copia's ears like a warm hug.

“Uh – please – ehm – call me C-Copia.”

His voice wavers and he knows he has to look just as miserable as he sounds.

“Copia.”

It ignites something inside the Cardinal. The way his name rolls off Aether's tongue like honey. He wants more. He wants to hear his name said like that for the rest of his days.

“It's lunch time.”

Oh. Copia shakes himself. “Ah – thank you, but I need to finish this first.” Copia points to the stack of papers on his desk. He wears a weary smile.

“You can take time to eat. You're allotted a lunch break, right?”

“Well, uh yes but –”

“No buts.” Aether makes his way to plant both hands on Copia's desk. “You need to eat.”

Copia sighs defeatedly. “Alright. Fine. Fine.”

He lets himself be led in the direction of the cafeteria. He manages to eat half of some sort of sorry excuse for pasta. The whole while he listens to Aether speak of his packmates. How they're annoying. How he loves them even if he thinks of killing some of them sometimes.

It makes Copia sad and it must show as he begins picking at his food.

“Copia?”

“Hmm?” He doesn't look up from the plate. It feels like far too much effort.

“Is everything okay?” Aether's voice is tentative.

“Sì, just a bit distracted.” He offers a tired smile and it seeks to settle the ghoul.

“And you?”

Copia is entirely caught off guard. He's zoned out during Aether's spiel, getting lost in the lull of his voice. It's only now he realizes this part of the conversation is aimed at him.

It must show on his face and Aether takes pity, repeating the question. “I said my pack mates can be an issue, but they're still important to me. Then I asked about you.”

“What about me?”

“I asked if you felt the same way with your brothers.”

The fork makes a loud clunking noise as he drops it and it bounces on the floor. Does everyone know? Did they know long before he even did?

Copia feels bile rising in the back of his throat. Feels his eyes beginning to sting in that all too familiar way. He has to get out of here. It was a mistake even coming to the cafeteria with the ghoul. He doesn't even realize he's trembling, breathing heavily until a large hand covers his own.

“It's okay.” Aether's voice is soft. Almost as soft as his eyes. “You don't have to answer. I shouldn't have asked to begin with.”

“No, it's – it's –” Copia deflates altogether. He's so tired of pretending nothing is ever wrong. He's just …tired. “To be completely honest, I do not even think they know I exist.” The laugh that follows is meant to be relaxing, but it's self depreciating.

“What do you mean?”

Why does Aether just keep making this more and more harsh. “It is…hard to explain.” His hands move as he talks. “They are aware that I exist. They just ..eh –” he scratches his head. “I can not think of the word in this language.”

“Care.” Aether finishes for him. “They don't care?”

Copia nods. It sounds even worse when it's said out loud. It sounds even more crushing.

“That's okay. You don't need them. You got us, and me.”

Aether winks at Copia as he squeezes his hand. He wants to shout, exclaim how it's so nice to finally maybe feel like a person. But it doesn't keep the question between them from hanging in the air.

But for how long?

–

Months eventually turn into a year and Copia has made a semi comfortable life for himself here. Each day he eats most of his meals with Aether. The ghoul has made it his personal mission to ensure he eats three solid meals a day. As a result, he's picked up a couple pounds. Where once his ribs protruded, now a small paunch makes itself known.

It happens when Aether is at his apartments one night. He's helping Copia go over some numbers for the yearly budget. Who initiates it, he can't say, but be quickly finds himself sinking into the ghoul's affection.

Copia has his arms wrapped around Aether's neck, kissing him like his life depends on it. Their teeth clack together. Aether's tongue hesitantly asks entrance and Copia lets him in. As soon as his jaw is slack enough, Aether is licking into the Cardinal's mouth. A large hand on the back of his head pulls him further into the kiss until Aether is essentially tongue fucking his throat. He wants it to last but he really needs air.

They break apart, a small trail of saliva still connecting them. Copia gulps down lungfuls of air. His brain doesn't even have time to second guess itself, as Aether undresses him in a swiftness he wasn't aware the ghoul had.

It's only when he's lying naked beneath the ghoul that it dawns on him. He's actually erect this time. It knocks the air from his lungs to realize this is all because of Aether.

Their lips are on each other again, hands exploring. Copia jolts when he feels a slick finger rub over his entrance.

“It's okay. I got you.”

Copia whimpers and withers as Aether sinks a finger into him, working him open. Then adding a second and doing the same. When the ghoul pulls out, Copia scrambles to grab for him.

“Hey, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere.”

It's accentuated as Copia feels the ghoul's cock head slip inside him. Fuck they've barely even started and he's already on the verge of blowing his load.

“Such a good boy.” Aether sinks himself deeper until he's finally bottomed out. “Taking me so well. Like you were handcrafted for me.”

He wants it to be rough and demanding, but Aether throws him for a loop when he keeps it soft and comfortable. It has his thighs shaking as he wraps his legs around Aether's waist. He makes the half-hearted attempt to match the thrusts, but he's gone already.

With a cry, Copia's back arches, sending the ghoul's cock further inside himself. He paints his own stomach with white as he cums so forcefully that he sees stars. He only barely registers when Aether cums inside him, fucking it back into him as it drips free. When he's satisfied, Aether pulls out, eliciting a pathetic whine from Copia.

Copia is still staring at the ceiling dazed when a strong hand grabs him and manhandles him over. Oh. This is new. He lets Aether position him until his head is rested comfortably on a large bicep.

The quiet is comfortable at first but quickly sours as his thoughts spin once more. He thinks he does a better job of masking his emotions than he does, but Copia knows Aether can feel the tears against his skin.

“Hey, what's wrong?” Aether tips Copia's head to look up at him. “Did I hurt you?” There's panic in his voice and Copia hates himself even more for being the cause of it.

He laughs tiredly, wiping his eyes. “No, it's not that. It's just – no one has ever stayed the night before.” He tries to laugh again but it turns into a sob.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” He answers far too quickly. But he doesn't care. “It – it's just nice to feel – it's just nice to have someone stay.”

Aether shushes him and eventually their breathing evens out. Copia's eyes flutter as he tries to stay awake. Ultimately sleep wins over. It's here when he's wrapped in Aether's strong arms that for once in his life Copia feels safe.

He feels loved.

#the band ghost #skywarpie writes #okay to reblog i guess #i just KNOW mobile is gonna fuck this up #anyway #ghost band #ghost bc #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #aether #nsft

22 notes · View notes