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am-i-interrupting · 1 year ago

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Affection | Vox x Fem!Reader

Summary: Vox and Valentino get into it. Vox looks for a way to get payback and stumbles upon you. He didn’t expect you to actually care.

Warnings: sex work, a bit of a mommy kink

He was used to the petty yelling, the constant spats, even the object throwing. What crossed the line was when he had to replace his screen.

Vox and Valentino got into a lot of arguments, normally started by the latter instead of the former. This one was bad though. Vox didn’t even want to think about it but it was all that was on his mind.

He was angry.

He was angry because it was easier to be angry rather than something else, something more vulnerable. He didn’t want to and couldn’t afford to be vulnerable right now. He had to hold onto this anger so he didn’t go crawling back to Valentino.

Currently, he was at his desk, looking through documents about ads that were just waiting for Vox’s stamp of approval. He stumbled upon yours and he paused.

He recognized you. Why?

He copied your name into a search bar and looked at your Sinstagram profile. Flipping through the pictures, he found one of you at a bar and that’s when he remembered.

Valentino tried to contract you and you’d basically laughed at him. You’d tossed back a shot and then turned to Valentino, asking if he needed you to pay for it since he was clearly so desperate for new recruits as he was only preying on people too stupidly drunk to realize how bad of an idea it was to say yes. Oh, he remembered Valentino seething that night.

He approved your ad but he couldn’t get you out of his head. He opened the closed tag again as he actually read through your ad.

You were advertising music. Which, when say side by side with your Sinstagram made sense as he saw a picture of you with Verosika Mayday. There wasn’t really anything interesting on the advert.

He scrolled up to the top of your Sinstagram in order to look at them in order from most to least relevant. That is when he caught sight of a link in your bio. He clicked it.

He was brought to a website. He wasn’t sure what he expected but he did raise an eyebrow nonetheless. It was an escort sight. A home page that had you and several other people scantily dressed with a description of what every person and the services you offered.

Maybe he was being more vindictive than he thought because he immediately clicked on the tab that sent him to your page and booked a time with you.

It was far out, months away in fact. He honestly had forgotten about it until he got an email the week before asking if he was still available and inviting him to a pre-session consultation. Not willing to back out and have it potentially mess with his image, he made the time.

He logged into a video call several days later and was greeted with you in the middle of putting on your makeup.

“Well, hello, Mr. Vox,” you said with a soft purr. He replied with a formal greeting of your name. “You’re a busy guy and I’m a busy gal so I’ll keep this quick. This is just a little meeting for boundaries. I know it bothers some people to make them in person so I’ve found this to be an easier way.

“I’ll go first. No hickies, no bruises, no scratches, no cuts, no burns, just no marks. It might be pretty and fun in the moment but it costs me later. Not everyone enjoys having sex with someone who’s clearly had it with someone else not long before. It may be part of my work but people do like an illusion.

“I don’t do bondage where I’m the one tied up. It’s nothing personal, just a safety issue. On the topic of safety, if you bring in anything that could be used as a weapon. I’m done and you’re leaving. All I need from you is that pretty little body of yours and payment. I’ll provide the rest.

“On the topic of payment, I know you’ve already made your upfront payments for this little consultation. The rest can be brought when you come in cash. Any questions so far?”

He surprised himself by saying, “Not so far, no.”

You we’re far more thorough than he thought. He’d bought time before but it was never this professionally done, even by Valentino’s standards. Granted, with Valentino’s sex workers, there was really only one rule, payment upfront. He didn’t give a fuck about anything else.

You though? You had clearly given this a lot of thought on all parts.

“Good, I’m glad,” you said. “Those are my hard rules. Everything else is a little more flexible. So, tell me, what is it you want from tonight?”

“To have a good time.”

“Of course, we all want to have a good time, Vox, but I’m talking specifics. Don’t be naive,” you said. “I have full confidence you know better. Maybe it’d be easier if I told you what I’m best at.”

The lid of your lipstick clicked closed. You looked at the camera, looking at him directly on his screen by proxy, for the first time.

“I can do just about anything your cold, dead heart desires but I enjoy specific things more than others. I’m a bit of a dominatrix, I’d you will. I enjoy the power and control of giving people what they need instead of what they want. How does that sound to you?”

“It sounds to me like a very overlord thing to do,” he replied.

“Not there yet,” you said. “So, is that the role you prefer to play?”

“It’s one I play often.”

“Yes, I’ve gathered that but do you prefer it?”

Vox didn’t know why he didn’t just say yes. He should have. It went with his image to say yes and that’s why he was still agreeing to do this even though he and Valentino weren’t on the worst of terms right now.

He hadn’t crawled back to Valentino yet. It’d been one of their longer spells away from one another. Five months without even falling back into bed once.

Perhaps that’s why he said what he said. He was pent up. He hadn’t had time to unwind and the person he normally would go to for that he was still upset with. That’s the reason he’d go with anyway.

“It’s the role I play most often,” he said.

“But is it the role you like?” you asked. When he didn’t answer you smiled, a more genuine one than any flirty or sarcastic one you’d shot his way before. “Stubborn, I’ll keep that noted.”

“I am not—“

“You’re proving my point. Now,” you stood up and rummaged through a drawer he couldn’t see, “pick a set for me.”

For the next several hours, Vox felt like he couldn’t focus. He was nervous. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been nervous over a one night stand.

He left early, leaving his assistant with double the workload but he didn’t care. He just needed to be out of the building.

He took Vark out on a walk to pass time but it still went by so slowly. It took what felt like days for it to finally be time to leave.

He’d call it considerate that he left without his usual suit jacket, waistcoat, and tie but in reality, he felt so hot, constricted with them on.

He traveled through the cameras and arrived at the address he’d been given, not a single person having seen him.

He knocked on the door and that sense of security was promptly shattered when it opened and he heard someone say, “Holy shit!” in response to seeing him.

He glared at the offending person as he stepped in. He recognized them from being pictured on your website. They quickly spun around and continued doing whatever it was they were in the process of.

He was led to a room which when opened revealed you inside. You were wearing a shear robe that gave him a peak at what was hiding underneath.

“I was promised secrecy,” he said. “Not to be gawked at by the employees.”

“So you don’t want to be gawked at me?” you asked. You smiled at your own joke. “Everyone here is under contracted lock and key to not say a single word about what goes on inside these walls. You’re image will be fine.”

“Contracted?”

“You said I had the makings of an overlord,” you replied. “Why are you suddenly surprised that I have contracts? Don’t worry, I assure you they’re much more ethically sourced than your co-worker’s.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Speaking of,” you said as you took several steps towards him, “why are you here? I’d imagine you could have any of Valentino’s contracted cash free. Why waste it on me? I’m not exactly cheap.”

You held out your hand and he reached into a pocket to retrieve the other part of your payment. You swiftly began counting it.

“You fuck one of Valentino’s pets, you’ve fucked them all,” he said. “They’re all too scared to be any fun after a while.”

“As much as I know that’s a true statement—“ you put the cash in a drawer of the bedside table— “I don’t believe it.”

He felt his eye twitch. “And what exactly would you—“

“Why don’t you take off your shirt and lay on the bed?” You walked towards him and ran your hands up his torso. “Or I could take it off for you.”

You began unbuttoning his shirt and for some reason, it made him drop all his irritation. When you finished, you bent down and licked all the way up his torso. You kissed and nipped at his collar bone.

His hands went to your sides but you spatted them away. The shirt fell to the ground.

You looked up at him, like you were daring him to kiss you. However, when he went to do just that, you stepped away.

“On the bed face down, mister,” you told him.

He huffed. Despite his mind telling him to grab you and pull you in for a kiss, take you and remind you of who exactly you were messing with, his body followed your instructions.

The mattress dipped as you straddled him. Something popped open (he tensed), a bottle clinked as it was set on the table, and then the sound of you rubbing your hands together went through the air.

Your hands, warm against his skin and slick with oil, began to rub up and down his back.

“Why are you here, Vox?” you asked. “I’m not stupid. I keep up with the news. Did you think I wouldn’t notice that the day you made an appointment was the same day you updated your status to single again? It’s still single now so what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” he said.

“Uh-huh, and the fact that you visibly tensed as soon as I mentioned Valentino is just a coincidence,” you said. “Everything you say in these walls stays within them.”

“You’re the one who made the contracts,” he said. “You’re not under them.”

“True, but—“

You began to apply pressure with your thumb, grinding your thumb and hand in circles along his back.

“Oh, fuck.”

“—I also made them,” you said, basically repeating his words. “It means I place value in confidentiality.”

“Or covering you’re own— oh, fuck, right there— your own ass.”

“I could be.”

You leaned down and he felt toy trap his entire torso beneath you. He liked the feeling. He liked the feeling of you over him.

You got close to his face, “But I think we both know I’m not.” You moved back and he mourned the feeling as soon as it was gone. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. You’re just very obviously tense and not just physically.”

You punctuated your sentence by rolling the palm of your hand at the base of his neck before squeezing it lightly. He couldn’t hold back a moan at the feeling of some tension leaving his body.

You continued on like that in silence for a while. You were working out the knots in his muscles and he was basically putty beneath your hands.

He’d never been treated like this before. He had couldn’t remember the last time he felt loose. There was always some kind of feeling of unease he constantly carried.

He didn’t even know he needed this because he’d never known that he could have it.

You leaned to once again lay over him but this time he could feel the entire weight of your body instead of just your warmth. You wrapped your arms underneath his shoulders and placed a kiss to his neck.

“Are you alright to continue?” you asked him as you nuzzled against his shoulder blade.

“I—“ He tried to search for some witty or snarky remark to make but all he could come up with was, “Yes.”

You cooed at him and slipped your hands out from underneath him to rub his back as you got off him. “Using your words, what a good boy,” you said and he hated, hated how that made him feel so warm inside. “Can you turn around for me? Yes, good.”

He closed his eyes and refused to look at you. You laughed but it didn’t feel mean. That didn’t make him feel any less embarrassed, however.

You did a wider, full handed version of the back massage you’d given him to his front as you began to roll your hips against his. He couldn’t hold back a whine.

“Oh, so pretty,” you said. “Such pretty noises from such a pretty boy.”

“Fuck,” it came out weak and pathetic.

Well, it was fitting then because that’s how he felt, weak and pathetic. Such simply praise shouldn’t be so effective.

“How does that feel?” you asked. “Come on, be a good boy. Tell me. Tell me how to make you feel good, baby.”

You were kissing on his neck and shoulders now.

“Good,” he choked out.

You hummed against his skin.

He could feel his fingers flex. His arms moved. He stopped them. He wanted to touch. He should be able to touch. He should be able to do what he wanted. He was the fucking Vox, overlord and creator of the biggest tech company in Hell. He shouldn’t need permission to do something.

You grabbed his hands and brought them up to the knot of your robe.

“You can touch me, baby,” you told him.

A whine forced its way out of his throat no matter how much he tried to keep it at bay.

He opened his eyes and you were so beautiful, grinding against him like you were made to. He could feel his cock straining against his pants. He wanted them off.

He settled for untying your robe. It fell to reveal the deep blue set he’d chosen for you earlier that day. It was sheer enough to show off your nipples through the cross crossed pattern of the bra. There was a silver chain that draped between the cups and further framed your breasts. Some traps went around your torso as part of the garter belt which held up your similarly colored stockings. You looked gorgeous.

You laughed and guided his hands up to your waist. Then up to your tits.

“I love the way you keeping whining for me,” you said. “You’re like a little pup.” Your eyes honed on his neck and your hand followed your gaze. You pressed on his neck, just enough to add some pressure. “That neck of yours looks like it was made to be collared and leashed.”

“Oh fuck.”

You leaned closer to his face. “Would you like that, baby?”

His fingers twitched around your breasts. He rubbed his thumbs over your clothes nipples as a silent apology. “Please.”

“Oh, such good manners.” You applied more pressure to his neck, not enough to cut off his air supply. He arched into your touch. “But not tonight. Some other time, I promise. I’ve got a feeling I’ll be seeing you plenty, baby.”

You went to nip at his neck. His hands wrapped around to your back to hold you in place. Your own traveled down his torso and to his belt.

You undid it. You pulled down his pants but not his underwear. You slipped from his grasp.

You put your hands on either side of his bulge and ran your fingers over it. His legs spread open further as he tried to push up but you quickly put an end to that little action.

Your hands on his hips, you hovered your head over him. You licked a stripe onto the fabric. You began to suck him off with the barrier of his boxers.

He knew he was whining. His eyes wanted to screw shut but he kept them open, too transfixed by the visage before him.

Your own eyes were closed. Your hands, perfectly constraining his boxers, were wrapped around his hips. The tips of your perfectly manicured hands were digging into his skin. Your tongue lulled out and lavished him.

He could cum from just this alone.

However, as soon as the thought came to him, you pulled away.

“No, no, no, please, please, let me come,” he said, words flowing from his mouth before he could stop them.

“Aw,” you said with a chuckle, “begging so soon? How sweet. Don’t worry, baby, you’ll get to come soon. I’ve just got to see that little dick of yours first.”

The small bit of degradation mixed with all the praise made him twitch.

He’d never gotten any negative comments on his dick before. Rather the opposite, Valentino had tried several times before to talk him into at least faceless camera work but he didn’t want to think of the moth right now.

You pulled his underwear down to reveal his cock. It was length, a deep blue like the rest of him except were it was flushed vibrantly at the tip. He was already leaking pre-come. Milky white against his flesh.

You leaned over to lick it up. His eyes rolled back at the simple action.

Your smirked before you took him all your mouth at once. You slowly pulled up and let your teeth pull at the hood of his tip.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

He thrusted up into what was now just air as he twitched, his whole body convulsing but he didn’t come. He was on the verge though.

You shushed him as you stroked his inner thigh with your nails.

“Be a good boy for me and hand me the lube,” you said before you began sucking on the skin above his pelvic bone.

His hand went to your hair as he closed his eyes and moaned. It took him a moment to open them again but you didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t feel rushed.

When was the last time he hadn’t felt rushed while having sex? He couldn’t even remember. It was always about getting back to work as soon as possible or Valentino’s quick hits. It was never really about him. It was about getting rid of his boner or Valentino’s as soon as possible.

He liked this. He liked this feeling of. . . being cared for?

God, he was so fucking pathetic. He could feel tears filling his eyes as he reached for the lube on the bedside table.

“Are you alright, baby?” you asked. “Do you need to stop.”

“Fuck, please don’t.”

“Okay, we don’t have to stop. We can keep on going,” you said as you poured some lube into your hands. “You just keep on being a good boy for me, alright? You can cry if you need to, baby. It’s okay to cry, you know.”

That permission made it worse. He felt his face flush as tears began to stream down his face. This was pathetic. He was pathetic. He shouldn’t be crying. He’d rarely ever cried. Much less during sex, especially sex that he was enjoying.

“Can you bend your— oh, such a good boy,” you said.

You hooked his bent knees over your legs and pulled him into your lap.

You wrapped your hands, covered in warm lube (when was the last time someone had took the time to warm up lube before touching him?), around his cock and began slowly twisting your hands up and down. He couldn’t stop the weak thrusts.

“I’m sorry,” he said, repeating the phrase like a prayer.

“Shhhh, baby, it’s okay,” you told him, petting his thigh. “You take what you need. You’ve been so good for me. So good. You deserve it.”

“Fuck.”

He threw his head back against the pillow and then looked down at you. He immediately met your eyes, so soft and understanding. It made his stomach queazy.

He watched as his dick slowly was covered then revealed by your hand. It curved around him so perfectly, glistening with a mixture of lube and the pre-come he was leaking. You twisted your hand in just the right way.

You covered his cock and then revealed the head. You thumb lingered and smeared the pre-come at his tip. The point of your nail ever so gently grazed his hole and that’s what did it.

The lights flickered in the room as he spasmed and came. His screen went blank as he blacked out.

A few seconds later, he came to with you by his side with a glass. You tilted his head up and cupped your hand under his lips as you forced him to drink, any water that spilled was dropped in your hand.

You grabbed a cloth and wipes at his screen.

“Are you okay, baby? Was that good?” you asked and he could only mutely nod. “Good.”

You went to pull him into an embrace but stopped and looked down at your body. “Do you wanna clean me up or do you want me to do it?”

He followed your gaze and saw his come covering your torso, a bit of it even clinging to your bra. He leaned to lick it off you. You reclined onto the thrown of pillows and let him, stroking his shoulders and arms as he did.

He licked up to your bra and then was met with the rough contrast of the lace-like fabric compared to your smooth skin. He reached around and undid the bra. You let it fall and he licked where the come had been. Then he began sucking on your breasts.

“Oh, fuck,” this time it was you.

Spurred on, he reached down between your thighs and began stroking. You were wet, so fucking wet. His fingers slid through your folds with no hint of resistance.

He rolled your clit between two knuckles.

“Oh, so good for mommy,” you said as you continued petting him. “So good.”

He whined at both the praise and the title you had given yourself.

He began stroking you with a different purpose now. He needed you to come. He looked up at you, still sucking on your tit. He needed to see it.

Your breath quickened. Your pets turned into a tight hold. It was your turn to whine as your head rolled back and your mouth lulled open.

“So good! So good for me, baby, just like that,” you said right before you became incoherent. You groaned and moved up into his touch.

He went back to the tower feeling better than he could ever remember. The set you’d worn tucked into his pant pocket. You insisted, saying you had plenty of other sets. Who was he to refuse?

“Where the fuck have you been?” Velvette asked.

“Out,” he said as he walked passed her, in no mood for her screeching.

“For over two hours with your location turned off? You didn’t even answer your fucking phone,” Valentino said, voice raising to nearly as yell towards the end.

“Yes,” Vox said as he continued walking.

He heard Valentino laugh as he must have seen the lingerie set in his back pocket. “Were you really so busy fucking a hole that you couldn’t answer me? I hope they were good.”

“Better than you ever were,” Vox said before he closed his bedroom door, unwilling to let his lax mood be ruined.

A few months later, Vox was still going to see you. Absolutely hooked and you both knew it but so were you. You didn’t even made him pay but he still slipped money into your pocket or your bra so he wouldn’t have to face the fact that he was getting attached.

That was all thrown out the window when you released a new song. He wasn’t even halfway through watching the music video before he disappeared and found you, pulling you in for a bruising kiss and you knew exactly why.

The imagery in the music video was obvious. Pink smoke trying to creep into your studio only to be blocked, a deep blue body, TV screens everywhere. Then there were the lyrics:

I can give my babe affection without any type of infliction

You were just an intermission but I’m the center of attention

I’ve got him collared and leashed right where he needs to be

He’s down on his knees begging me with please

Better than any of his fantasies

Yeah, I’ve got his attention without infliction

#for the song I’m thinking chrissy chlapecka vibes just FYI #hazbin vox x reader #vox x reader

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heirofshadowsingers · 4 months ago

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A Timeless Melody - part one

Pairing: Gwynriel Rating: Mature Words: 6.3K Tags: friends to lovers, angst, fluff, romance, friends with benefits (not the usual kind... yet), healing, mates, basically idiots in love Summary: When Gwyn doesn't show up to Nesta and Cassians's mating ceremony, Azriel finds himself unable to stay away. What begins as a simple waltz beneath the stars slowly turns into something neither of them is ready to name. All they know is that sleep comes easier when they’re together.

The first part to my Gwynriel fic is HERE. I'm a bit nervous tbh, I hope you like it. It will probably have a couple more parts to it if people are interested, so please let me know if you want to read more or if you liked it. Thank you!

🤍 Read on ao3 here Or below of you prefer tumblr

Azriel surveyed the crowd before him with a sense of unease. Loud laughter and music floated through the air, but it was his shadows that kept grabbing his attention—anxiously tugging and whispering their demands.

Go search, they seemed to command. Go. Go. Go.

I can’t leave, he replied silently and they hissed back in disapproval, still tugging, urging him to leave the lavish celebrations and fly off into the cool night.

Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony was, as expected, outrageous. Rhysand had vowed to make it the most ornate ceremony Prythian had ever seen, and he had certainly spared no expenses. The small temple was overflowed with different kinds of flowers, while expensive silks adorned any remaining surface. Faelights and candles hung from the ceiling in luxurious chandeliers and lanterns, their golden and rosy glow bathed the dais and aisle in warmth. It was a setting plucked straight from the pages of one of Nesta’s romance novels.

Despite the grandeur of the small temple, it was Cassian that Azriel couldn’t stop watching while they’d waited for the ceremony to start. It was the first time he’d ever seen his brother look so nervous, and there was something endearing about the way he kept fidgeting, his entire body brimming with an almost boyish excitement—even if the frilly suit looked absurdly extravagant for someone like the Lord of Bloodshed.

Mor had taken one step inside the temple, shared a sly look with Azriel, and the two of them had nearly burst into teasing laughter. Cassian had caught their mischievous smirks and pointed a warning finger in their direction, grumbling, “One fucking word. I dare you.”

Azriel decided to keep his mouth shut, because, well, Nesta had picked the suit for him and Azriel wanted to live long enough to see the end of the ceremony.

And after sharing another knowing look with Mor, they both knew there would be plenty of time to remind Cassian about the frilly suit in the future.

However, Azriel would be lying if he said the ceremony wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever been a part of. It was an honor to be there, to witness it all, and it had nothing to do with the flowers or the pretty garlands. No, it was the raw and genuine emotion rising between Cassian and Nesta. The overwhelming love that radiated around them as they swore their vows— it was enough to bring tears to even Azriel’s eyes.

Not that he would ever admit that out loud.

Just like he would never voice the envy brewing inside his chest from seeing his brother, both of them, with their mates.

Those thoughts—those quiet and selfish ones— would follow him to the grave, even if they were slowly consuming him.

He would make sure of it.

After the ceremony, Rhys had arranged an even more outrageous dinner and a party to celebrate the mating. Nesta hadn’t wanted to invite too many people to the actual ceremony, but it had not stopped Rhys from going all out. Especially, since some invitations to join the celebrations afterward had also gone out to the High Lords of Summer, Day, and Winter. An offer to keep their alliances blooming in good nature which Nesta had agreed to as long as Rhys made sure to include a huge dance floor.

The glorious reception was set to take place at the River House, and a large tent had been built and set up in the garden, where all guests had gathered to eat and dance and eat again until dawn.

Even if the couple being celebrated most likely wouldn’t be staying until dawn themselves.

Of course, a bet had been placed among them, speculating how long Nesta and Cassian would last before the need to consummate the mating took over. Azriel assumed his old duties as a chaperone had given him enough knowledge regarding their lack of control, and had been confident there was no way they’d last longer than the actual ceremony.

Unfortunately, he had lost hours ago.

Feyre, so far, was winning— having had more faith in her sister’s desires to dance throughout the night, rather than her need to take Cassian to bed. Which Azriel, had he been smart about it, should've considered before placing his bet. The couple had already consummated their bond plenty; they’d barely left their bed since Nesta returned from the Blood Rite.

Cassian, to his credit, seemed more than happy to assist his mate in said dancing as they twirled across the dancefloor. He had not stopped smiling once since seeing Nesta in her beautiful cream-colored gown.

But Az himself had not yet set foot on the dancefloor, despite being asked by several beautiful females. He could not shake the uneasy feeling creeping over him that something was wrong. He just couldn’t figure out what. There was absolutely nothing amiss as the crowd kept dancing to the beautiful symphony played by some of Velaris' most talented musicians. There was no looming threat hanging over any of them. No reason for the uneasy feeling.

Still, something felt wrong.

It wasn’t until Nesta and Emerie shared a long and heartfelt hug that the final puzzle piece fell into place. It hit him so hard it nearly knocked the air out of him as he scanned the crowd again; searching for a familiar face that was oddly absent... Gwyn.

Azriel had not seen her once. Not at the ceremony. Not at the feast. Not on the dance floor. How had he not noticed sooner?

Fool, the shadows screamed at him, or perhaps it was his own mind screaming at him this time.

Gwyn had wanted to be there, had wanted to be there for her new sister to show her love and support. Why wasn’t she? The priestess had told him herself how badly she wanted to come. Azriel had seen that burning determination in her large teal eyes. The same determination he had seen with the ribbon, the obstacle course, and every other challenge he and Cassian threw at them during training. He’d had no doubts that the fierce and charmingly stubborn female would be at the ceremony, and yet, he had not seen her.

Something had to have happened.

In three long strides, Azriel crossed the dancefloor for the first time that night, pushing past all the males and females in his way. Cassian noticed him immediately, amusement swirling in his eyes as he informed both Nesta and Emerie about who was approaching the three of them. The shadows pulsed around him, still agitated and anxious, and as Nesta opened her mouth to speak– Azriel cut her off.

“Where is Gwyneth?”

“Oh, you finally noticed, did you?” Cassian said, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Nesta’s head, trying to hide his grin in her hair. Azriel ignored him.

“Is she alright?”

Nesta placed a kind hand on his shoulder. “She’s fine.” But a shadow passed over her gray-blue eyes as she spoke, and she exchanged a somber glance with Emerie. “Or, as good as she can be, I suppose. She just said it felt a bit too overwhelming to come.”

“Right,” Azriel frowned.

“Things have been hard for her since the Blood Rite, ” Emerie added, her face twisting into a grim expression. “Even with winning, I think everything is finally catching up. It was… It was a lot for her.”

Azriel only nodded, his mind spiraling with far too many horrifying possibilities about what might have changed since he’d last seen her. Gwyn had been determined to attend the ceremony—he knew how much it meant to her. He also knew how hard she would be on herself for missing it, even though she had no reason to be.

He quickly tried to block out the image his mind created of the stubborn Valkyrie. The image of her sitting on her own, berating herself over and over for not being there, her teal eyes hunted and hollow.

Az did not need to think twice about it.

The music and laughter faded as he shot up into the sky, soaring through the brisk spring night. His shadows pulled at him impatiently, telling him to go faster, to hurry, as he neared the House of Wind. An endless torrent of guilt tightened around him, pressing in from all sides, each beat of his wings punctuated by silent curses over not noticing her absence sooner.

While Azriel still wasn’t sure if he could call Gwyn a friend —if she thought of him as a friend— they had spent a significant amount of time together since their encounter during Winter Solstice. He’d watched her be the first to cut that ribbon, a strong sense of pride flowing through him, proud to see that his small impromptu lesson had paid off. That she had kept her wrist from turning. When she had asked him for another dagger lesson he had not hesitated before agreeing to meet with her once a week.

And when he would go to the training ring in the middle of the night, needing to work off his frustrations, Gwyn was either already there or would join him later.

Even though their nightly training sessions did not include a lot of talking, not beyond the subject of different techniques or ways to improve, Azriel liked to think he knew her better than most. At least enough to have noticed her absence sooner. Fool.

The shadows led him straight to the training ring, guiding him in his search for her. Not that he had really needed them to. Azriel knew exactly where he would find her.

And— there she was.

Standing at the edge of the training ring, her coppery-brown hair was illuminated by the soft glow of the moon and the stars glimmering like scattered diamonds above Velaris.

He landed a few steps away from her, rustling his wings once more to make his presence known, careful not to startle her. Two of his shadows surged for her immediately, twirling around her body to greet her and make sure everything was okay.

As Gwyn turned around to face him; Azriel froze. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

It quickly dawned on him that he’d only ever seen Gwyn in her priestess robes or her training leathers before. The deep green dress billowing around her in the gentle breeze... it left him utterly speechless.

He knew he needed to say something. That it was inappropriate for him to be so obvious and let his eyes roam over her lithe body. Maybe it made him the worst type of male. But it was impossible to ignore how the structured bodice hugged her waist, the golden vines curling across the dress, following her graceful curves before cascading into an airy skirt.

Azriel tried, but— Mother spare him —he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the plunging neckline and the way the corset pushed her firm breasts higher. Her pale and freckled skin peeked through the sheer fabric that swept across her collarbones, and his mouth went dry at the sight of her. No one in their right mind could deny that Gwyneth Berdara was a beautiful female. Azriel was not blind and he could see how her beauty had flourished in the training ring, thriving as her confidence grew and sunlight danced over her delicate features.

No, he was not blind.

But seeing her in that dress... a spark stirred deep inside his chest.

Without meaning to, his mind drifted to those freckles dotting her skin, wondering how many more might be hidden beneath the fabric of her dress; what constellations he might discover, what it might be like to map each one with his mouth, trailing tender kisses along-

Fuck.

The unexpected heat in his blood was enough to startle him out of his lewd reverie and for him to tear his gaze away.

His shadows, however, did not seem as startled as they curled around his ear whispering, Lovely beauty.

He promptly ignored them. Now was not the time to let his imagination run wild.

Then as Gwyn’s teal eyes met his hazel ones, the same coldness that had raced through him earlier came rushing back, the haunting reality slamming into him. The charming irreverence he had gotten so used to was nowhere to be seen. The usual light within her was extinguished. Instead, a heavy fog, full of hopelessness, clung to her expression.

Gwyn quickly brought a hand to her face, wiping away any evidence of her silent grief. It was too late; Azriel had already spotted her wet cheeks and the faint streaks left behind by the kohl lining her eyes. Her lips curved up in a weak attempt at a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Gwyn,” he breathed, taking a step forward, swallowing the tightness in his throat. “You look…”

“Ridiculous?” she offered when his words failed him, a poor attempt to ease the profound tension building around them.

“No,” he replied with a small frown. “Why would you look ridiculous?”

Gwyn glanced down at the dress and tugged slightly at the skirt before she let out a displeased huff. “I don’t know. I feel... silly,” she admitted, refusing to look up at him again, keeping her gaze firmly on the ground between them, gnawing on her lower lip nervously. “I can’t remember the last time I wore anything like this. I don’t think I ever have.”

“Well, you have no reason to feel silly,” he told her, his voice gentle but unwavering. The shadows that had surged for her earlier caressed the side of her face, offering some comfort of their own. “I- We missed you at the ceremony.”

Gwyn pressed her lips together, shifting her weight as another breeze caused her unbound hair to whip around her. The same shadows took the opportunity to coil around the coppery strands, smoothing them down tenderly before hiding amongst the thick tresses.

“I was going to come,” she told him quietly, her gaze still fixed on the ground. Her voice was steady, but her nervous fidgeting betrayed her. “I just… after everything— the idea of being around so many and the last time I left…” A shudder rocked her shoulders as the memory of being abducted and thrown into the Blood rite flooded her mind. Memories of being somewhere else. Somewhere she wasn’t safe. “I can’t do it. Not yet.” A humorless laugh escaped her lips. “Gods, I’m such a coward aren’t I?”

Azriel stiffened. “You are not a coward, Gwyn.” Far from it.

Finally, she looked up, and the lack of light in her eyes squeezed the air out of his lungs.

The rest of his shadows sat on his shoulders, peering over at her, and then they were tugging at him again— urging him to get closer, to join the other shadows in her hair. He tucked his wings in tighter as he fought against their peculiar command.

Stop it, he ordered, trying to block out the burning need to make the pain in her eyes disappear.

Go, they ordered back. Go to her!

“How was it?” she asked timidly, smiling faintly at the shadows vibrating around him. “The ceremony?”

Azriel offered her a smile in return. “Incredibly obnoxious,” he replied. “You didn’t miss much.”

A tiny flicker of light sparked in her eyes again, and he felt himself relax just a little bit, relieved to see even a glimmer of her usual spirit.

“Did Cassian cry when he saw Nesta in her gown?”

“Like a newborn babe.”

The genuine giggle that echoed across the training ring soothed his agitated shadows. Lovely Valkyrie.

“I knew it,” Gwyn beamed almost gleefully. “Emerie owes me five gold marks.” Azriel’s shadows danced around him, mirroring his relief, before once again settling on his shoulders content to just watch. “What about you? Did you cry, Shadowsinger?”

“I’m afraid that is classified information,” he informed her with a sharp nod, straightening out his shoulders the same way he would’ve had he been in a meeting with his High Lord and Lady, trying his best to hold back his teasing grin. He failed.

“Ah, I see,” Gwyn mused. “So, that’s a yes.”

Azriel lifted a scarred hand and pretended to zip his mouth shut, prompting another soft laugh from Gwyn.

Then her smile faltered, as quickly as it had appeared, the light that had sparked in her eyes burned out. Gone again. “I really wanted to come. I thought…” she paused to take a shaky breath, forcing another sad smile. “I even asked Emerie to teach me how to dance. I was so excited to finally go to something that wasn’t just an evening of prayers or learning how to stab someone.” Disappointment hung between them like a thick wall when Gwyn finished.

It made Azriel’s heart clench painfully.

He was good at a lot of things, but how to help the female in front of him? He had no idea what to do to bring her light back.

How did one even begin to try and help someone who’d had their life and dignity so brutally taken from them? How could he tell her the world wasn’t as bad as she feared? Especially when he sometimes feared the world himself.

“You not being there today does not make you a coward, Gwyn” he repeated firmly, searching her hollow expression for any trace of the familiar charm and determination he’d spotted earlier. “You are braver than most at that ceremony.”

“I’m so tired,” she confessed and Azriel could hear the tears threatening to fall in her voice. “I won the stupid Blood Rite! I should be brave enough to leave the library. I want to be able to leave for just one night, to celebrate my friends and their love... I should be brave enough by now.”

“Says who? There’s no time limit for these things,” he said and stepped forward, lifting a hand to reach for her. Only to falter midway. If Gwyn noticed, she thankfully did not acknowledge it. Instead, Azriel ran a hand through his hair, brushing dark strands away from his face as he swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. “There will be more opportunities in the future.”

“I just really wanted it to be today. I needed to be brave enough today. I- I thought I was.” A couple of tears ran down her cheeks again. She quickly wiped them away. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to ramble like this.”

“No need to apologize,” he assured her gently, though his body ached with the need to grab her and shake her until she understood — believed herself— how brave she was.

“I guess I’ll just have to wait a bit longer for a handsome male to come sweep me off my feet.” Another attempt at a joke to ease the tension. A smile that did not reach her eyes.

Envy, dark and despicable, threatened to rear its ugly head in his chest then. The idea of her dancing with some random male had his shadows darkening around him as more of them surged for her and wrapped around her body protectively.

Before Azriel could really think about it, or stop himself, he spoke again.

“Well, it’s never too late to share a little dance.” Gwyn looked at him with narrowed eyes, confusion spreading over her delicate features, as he held out a hand towards her. “Would you like to dance with me, Gwyneth Berdara?”

Gwyn’s eyes flickered to his outstretched hand, a pink blush creeping over her freckled cheeks, her lips parting unsure of what to say. “Azriel, you don’t have to.”

A shiver ran through him as his name fell from her lips in a soft melody. He did not let himself dwell too much about what he had just asked her— when was the last time he’d asked anyone to dance? And why had he thought that now, of all times, would be the right moment to suggest such a thing? To Gwyn especially? And with him?

Heat crept up his face, spreading to the tip of his ears under her questioning gaze. He tried his best to ignore the strange pull within him– the urge to take her hands, to draw her close, to ease the weight of the world pressing down on her. He couldn’t think about any of that. Not right now.

Gwyn twisted her own hands together awkwardly in front of her, hesitant to accept his offer, “I’m sure you’d rather go back to everyone else. I appreciate you checking in on me though, and offering.”

“There’s no one to dance with down there anyway, so…” he assured her and gave her a tentative smile. “C’mon, don’t embarrass me, Valkyrie. My ego is fragile.”

“Are you sure?” The corner of her lips threatened to twist into a small grin.

Azriel let out a low chuckle. “I won’t push you, but if you want to dance, I’d be honored.” He held out his hand again, waiting anxiously for her to accept.

For a long heartbeat, Gwyn didn’t move or speak. Then, with a faint exhale that loosened her entire posture, she reached out and brushed her fingers against his. The light caress was enough to send a warm tingle through him, leaving a trail of goosebumps across his skin. Gwyn’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink as he carefully pulled her closer and circled one arm around her body. It was not the first time they’d been so close, having sparred together during training, and yet, Azriel had to fight the urge to moan out loud as her luscious scent overtook his senses.

As they moved across the training ring in a quiet waltz, with only his shadows and the stars as their audience, the uneasy feeling finally settled within him. With her warm body and gentle touch, her soft hand wrapped in his, came a peacefulness Azriel wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced before. Gwyn kept looking down at their feet, counting the steps in her head, biting her lip in concentration. Something sparked in his chest again as he began to hum– a low, soothing melody.

A giggle bubbled out of her and she blinked up at him. “You really do sing then?”

Azriel blushed. “I told you I did, didn’t I?”

“I thought maybe you were just humoring me, Shadowsinger ,” she told him and her eyes finally glittered with an inner light again, and the earlier tension between them slowly melted away. A low chuckle rumbled through him, and Azriel couldn’t help himself and held her a little bit closer– a little bit tighter. The shadows swirled easily around them, dancing along to the low hum coming from their singer. They continued to move together in slow twists and turns across the training ring, her dress swaying between them with each step as the night held them in its cool embrace.

They kept going until a loud grumble disturbed the otherwise blissful night. Azriel glanced down at her with a narrowed gaze, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Have you eaten anything today, Berdara?”

“Yes, of course,” she replied, a little too quickly; a little too defensive. Azriel only continued to stare down at her, not with his usual coolness, but enough to show her he did not believe her. As another loud grumble came from her stomach, Gwyn sighed in defeat. “I had breakfast.”

He stilled their dancing. “Is that all? You haven’t eaten since breakfast?”

“I was too distracted,” she mumbled and looked down at their feet again. The spark in his chest, some deep instinct to protect and care, overwhelmed him in more ways than he could comprehend.

“You need to eat something,” he told her. “I’m sure they’re still serving some food down at the ceremony. I could fly you down?”

It was the wrong thing to say, though Azriel couldn’t understand why. Only that Gwyn tensed in his arms before lightly shoving him away from her.

“No,” she rejected the suggestion with a voice he did not recognize, bitter and sharp, such a stark contrast to the Gwyn he had just danced with. The shadows swirled around them nervously, seemingly trying to understand what had gone wrong, matching his own confusion. For the second time that night, she left him utterly speechless.

Then she was walking away, leaving him even colder than before.

It snapped him out of whatever stupor her sudden change had put him in.

“Gwyneth! Hey– wait up,” he said dumbly and staggered after her. Instead of reaching out to grab her, to stop her, he stepped into the shadows and appeared again in front of her. She jumped back in surprise as he appeared, barely having enough time to halt her steps and avoid a collision. For a brief second, so brief anyone else would’ve missed it —before she recognized him— fear flashed in her eyes. He immediately backed up, guilt prickling at his spine as he scolded himself for chasing after her the way he had. “What happened just now? What’s wrong?”

“I do not need you to be my savior again,” she told him bluntly, her jaw clenched tightly and the words just as harsh, but she made no attempts to walk away again. Still, Azriel made sure to leave enough space between them, ensuring she had a clear path if she wanted to leave.

“What?” The bloody memory of their first encounter flashed in the back of his mind, threatening to consume him completely if he did not block it out fast enough. “Gwyn, I didn’t– That’s not–”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I never said you did,” he assured her, his frown deepening. He lowered his head slightly in an attempt to catch her gaze. When she still refused to look up at him, Azriel hesitated for only a moment before gingerly placing his fingers beneath her chin, lifting her face to meet his. “What’s going on?”

Gwyn stayed silent for a moment before speaking, her voice no louder than a whisper.

“If I go down there with you, and not on my own... What does that say about me? That I need a male to help me be brave?” She swallowed thickly. “I can’t.”

“No one would think that, Gwyn.”

“I would.”

“Dare I say you would be wrong then?” Azriel gave her a small smile, hoping to come off as soothing, praying she couldn’t feel how sweaty his palms were growing as he stood before her. That he would be able to coax that little smirk from her again with a light-hearted joke.

It didn’t work.

But she didn’t push him away either.

Not even as something new flickered in her large eyes– something else holding her back. Azriel wasn't sure how appropriate it was for him to still be touching her face, but he could not bring himself to create any sort of distance between them. Not when her anguish was so clear it might as well have been his own.

When she spoke again it nearly shattered something within him.

“Do you... do you think Nesta is angry at me for not coming?”

“No,” he told her without hesitation, his voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil inside him. “No, Nesta would never be angry at you. Not over this.”

Gwyn closed her eyes, taking a deep breath through her nose, and held it for a few seconds before breathing out again. He recognized the mind-stilling technique right away, and did not dare to utter a single word until she did, did not dare to move a single muscle in fear of disturbing her.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured eventually. “I don’t know why I reacted like that.” When she looked up at him again, her eyes were glossy and hollow. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“I told you—there is no need to apologize,” Azriel reminded her and caught the tear that escaped, brushing it away gently with his thumb. Gwyn leaned into his touch, so subtle he wasn’t sure he imagined it or not, but it took every ounce of his self-control not to pull her entire body into his. “No one is angry at you for not coming today. Nesta understands, and so does Cassian. If anything, they are all just worried about you.”

“I don’t want their pity,” Gwyn huffed.

“It’s not pity. They care about you and worry because they want you to be okay. I imagine you feel the same way about them, don’t you?” Azriel couldn’t tell whether his words made any difference. Frankly, he didn’t even know what to say. Whenever one of his friends had a problem he was good for one thing— fighting or spying. But comforting someone? It had never been his role. What Gwyn was going through was far from his expertise and something Azriel usually stepped away from dealing with– letting either Rhys or Mor handle it.

But this was Gwyn, and he could not leave her.

For whatever reason, he could not back away and leave.

So he offered the only thing he could think of; the truth. “Whether you leave this house tonight, tomorrow or in another decade... no one is going to judge you for the time it takes. It’s your choice and it’ll always be up to you to decide when you are ready. No one else gets to decide that for you, but you are not a coward for not being ready today. I need you to know that.”

She looked up at him through teary lashes, whispering, “What if I’m never ready?”

“Then that’s okay too,” Az told her, stroking his thumb over her cheek again. “Personally, I think you will be. If you need a little help from one of us, that’s also okay, it doesn’t mean you’re weak. Everyone needs a little push sometimes. You might not need me, or anyone else, but we are here for you. And when you’re ready I would be happy to help you in any way I can, in whatever way you want me to. But in the end, it’ll always be you, Gwyn. Your achievement. Your strength. Your bravery.”

She studied his face closely, those big eyes somehow seeing right through him despite his best attempt to maintain the mask he usually wore. The mask he had perfected to keep people from seeing too much, and yet he was drowning in the sea that was Gwyneth Berdara’s teal eyes.

“Since when did you get so wise?” she chuckled and one side of her mouth finally curled up in a teasing smile again.

“I’ve always been wise,” he mocked, relief flowing through him at the sound. “You just haven’t been paying attention, Berdara.”

“Maybe you should take some of your own advice then,” she jokingly shot back at him, though the small jest was laced with something deeper.

Something that turned his stomach into knots again.

“I don't know what you’re talking about,” he tried to make his voice sound light. Unfortunately, the defensiveness in his tone was unmistakable. It came as no surprise that Gwyn picked up on it immediately, the gears in her mind turning, lips parting as she prepared to question him and to flip the conversation around to him and his life.

But Azriel didn’t want to have that conversation at the moment. Not ever. So he dropped his hand from her face and nodded towards the archway leading into the House. “C’mon, you still need to eat something. I’m sure the House will bring you anything you ask for.”

- - -

An hour later Azriel found himself sitting in the private library with Gwyn. He’d been right to suspect the House would dote on her; it had brought her all of her favorite foods and desserts along with a stack of books. The miniature pegasus he’d only heard rumors about even made a short appearance, cuddling up to Gwyn in the armchair across from him.

They sat in comfortable silence, Gwyn immersed and completely lost in whatever romance she was reading. On the contrary, Az had read the same sentence over and over again ever since they sat down. Not able to focus on a single word long enough to understand what he was reading.

Rhys had tried to reach him a while ago, the all too familiar silken hand brushing against his mind. Az could not be bothered to let his brother in. He already knew what Rhys was going to ask; where are you?

He also knew he should’ve returned to the ceremony after making sure Gwyn had gotten some food, but the House was quiet and inviting– it had even brought out a dish of his favorite dessert.

When Gwyn had asked him to join her in the library after finishing all her food, well, he simply could not say no to that.

Besides, who knew when he would get the chance to enjoy the House this silent again? With Nesta and Cassian gone for the next week, there was no fear of entering a room and interrupting whatever shameless activities they were up to. He planned to take full advantage of the fact that he wouldn’t have to suffer the scent of their arousal in every room of the House. Enjoying some peace for the first time in months.

Though he should probably start thinking about moving out, he supposed. Rhys had given the newly mated couple the House as one last gift to Nesta. And, while both Cassian and Nesta had no problems with him staying up at the House with them, Azriel wasn’t so sure he wanted to spend all his free time around a mated couple. At least not more than necessary.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” Gwyn’s melodic voice cut off his wandering thoughts. He glanced up at her to find her already looking at him with a thoughtful expression.

“What?”

“That you’ll help me,” she clarified. “Whenever I’m ready.”

“Of course,” he nodded.

Gwyn studied his face for a moment as if deciding whether he was sincere or had just offered to make her feel better. Then she unfolded her long legs from where she was sitting and crossed the room to join him on the sofa. She plopped down next to him comfortably, her muscular thigh pressing tightly against his. He inhaled sharply to calm his mind and watched her book fall to her lap as she raised a hand and held it between them, extending her pinky out towards him.

“Me and my sister used to do this when we were younger,” Gwyn explained when she noticed the confusion spreading across his face. “You lock your pinkies together and it’s like an extra strong promise. A sort of bargain I suppose, but more kid-friendly, there's no tattoos.”

Azriel blinked at her, staring at her extended pinky. Gwyn blushed. “Sorry. I know it’s silly, I shouldn’t have–”

He cut her off before she could lower her hand again, wrapping his pinky around her smaller one. Her blush deepened and she looked up at him through her thick lashes.

“I promise,” he told her, holding onto her pinky a little tighter. “Whatever you need; I’ll help you.”

“Thank you, Azriel,” she breathed out in what he could only describe as relief, a small spark glittering in her eyes again.

Then she slipped her pinky out of his grasp, settling down next to him like it was nothing. Rather than moving back to the armchair she’d been in earlier; she curled up to continue her book, her thigh still pressing into him. A comfortable silence fell between them once more.

And yet, regret slowly started gnawing on him, a steady ache building in his stomach. He shouldn’t have left the ceremony, shouldn’t have asked her to dance and shouldn’t have stayed and promised to help her. He wasn’t sure what he had been thinking. That he could somehow help her. Her faith in him came so effortlessly. He couldn’t help but feel like he was already betraying her. That he had somehow lied to her, tricked her, to make her think of him as anything good. It was foolish to think he could do anything for her. That he, of all people, could bring anyone comfort. Gwyn was all light, she deserved all the good things life could bring.

And Azriel? He wasn’t sure he even deserved a moment like this, deserved her trust, not after everything he had done— everything he was.

With that in mind, Az decided to let himself memorize the peaceful rhythm of her breaths, the way her hair seemed to glimmer under the soft lights and the steady warmth of her presence beside him. Because once Gwyn realized there was someone better to ask for help, that she didn’t need him, she’d forget about the promise he made. Perhaps she would even regret asking him to help in the first place.

He didn’t know what terrified him more; the thought of failing her, or the idea of being someone she relied on.

Azriel had lost track of time—minutes, maybe hours had passed— when Gwyn’s head suddenly fell against his shoulder, her book slipping from her hands and landing on the floor in a soft thud. He froze and glanced down to see her fast asleep, a soft sigh falling from her lips, completely at ease.

It stilled his spiraling thoughts.

He slowly exhaled the breath he was holding, sending out his shadows to dim all the lights, leaving them in the dark. It was dangerous, he knew that, to let himself have this moment of peace.

But it was easy, too easy, to just… stay there.

With her.

So he did, letting his eyes fall shut as he surrendered himself to the quiet night— allowing himself, just this once, to rest beside her.

And with Gwyn’s warmth seeping into him, Azriel let sleep take him.

#gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel fanfic #gwynriel #pro gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel x gwyn #azriel fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months ago

Text

Crushed 20

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.

Characters: Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine

Note: Welcome back.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖

“Darling,” Jonathan enters the apartment as he always does. In the days since you got there, it’s all become routine. Almost too much so. “You called? Was my phone not in service?”

You look up from the book borrowed from the shelf in the hallway. A thriller that’s less exciting than it genre may suggest. You fold your hands over the pages.

“I haven’t heard anything. About my suspension.” You frown, “how about you? Have they said anything?”

“Oh, fawn, you know if I do, you will be the first to know. And as ever, I will vouch for your innocence,” he nears and strokes your cheek as he looks down at you. “Forgive me for letting my pride drive me to such rabidity. It is only that cretin that makes me this way. The way he insulted you.”

“Hm, I know, it’s just... I feel useless. I don’t want to be living out of your hand forever.”

“Out of my hand? Darling, it is how these things work, is it not? One day, I might require your support, eh?” He tickles along your hairline, “you should enjoy the time you have to yourself.” He looks around, eyes narrowing as he scans the apartment. “My, my, this place is tidy.”

“I vacuumed. Lit a candle. Did the dishes,” you sit up and close the book. “I’m terribly bored. Maybe...” you stand and take the novel under your arm, “I should start looking for a new job. I don’t think they’re going to take me back. I’m not like you. I’m not important.”

He turns on you and crosses his arms, “darling, please. Firstly, you are not permitted to speak of yourself such. I won’t have that. Secondly, am I to feel worse than I already do? I would’ve gladly taken the slap on the wrist. I said as much in my interview.”

You swallow and look down guiltily, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just... I don’t know.”

“You should be getting ready for the rehearsal dinner. The wedding is just around the corner,” he girds.

“Well, it’s Geri’s day. I just have to show up.”

“And look as stunning as you always do. Have you made an appointment for your hair and makeup? That might cheer you a little,” he suggests.

“I can’t... I can’t afford that. I can do my own,” you insist.

“I can,” he counters. “I’ll ask around for recommendations and you’ll book something tomorrow before all the appointments are snatched up. Won’t you?”

“If that’s what you want,” you shrug.

His lips form a straight line and he drops his hands to his hips, “I want whatever you want, fawn, yet is seems even you do not know what that is.” He looks down with a solemn hum, “I wonder if you should even want me.” He turns away slowly. “I know you think of him still. You have such a deep heart, darling, and I shouldn’t blame you but it hurts all the same. I should be the only one.”

“You-- you are. It’s just... It was just a crush,” you step closer.

“Was?” He peeks over his shoulder, searching your face desperately.

You nod, “yes. We’re together now.”

He smiles. Just a little. He turns back to you and puts his hands on your upper arms. “I... I can’t tell you how lovely that is to hear you say. I am not so nervous anymore.”

You flutter your lashes, “nervous? You?”

He chuckles softly, “yes, of course. Why shouldn’t I be afraid that you won’t see me as I see you? You are my world.”

His declaration takes your breath away. You stare at him. You don’t know what to say. You like him. A lot. But you can’t lie and say you feel everything for him. That you don’t still get a pang in your chest when you think of Colin. Even if you know what you should feel, you can’t force it.

“I’m... trying my best,” you step closer. “I... I have a surprise.”

“A surprise?”

“Mm, well, like I said, I’ve been bored,” you grab his wrist and gently pull his hand from his hip. “Come on.”

“Shall I close my eyes?” He asks playfully.

“Don’t be cheesy,” you warn. “I was googling stuff about England and I found a recipe for a dessert. Um, sticky toffee pudding? It took me a while to get it right but I think I figured it out.” You open the fridge as you pull him with you. He stops before the interior’s glow as you point to the cake pan. “For dessert.”

“For me? You made that? All by yourself?” He asks.

You nod proudly as your cheeks tweak. “Yeah. I love baking but my place was never big enough and I know it’s not much but I wanted to say thank you.”

“You mean to stab me in the heart,” he accuses and you flinch in surprise. “The way you are plucking on my heartstrings, I think I might completely break, darling.” He turns you to him and smirks down at you. “How have I been so lucky to come so far across the world and find the only treasure in it?”

You giggle. He’s so sweet it hurts your teeth. It makes you feel worse for spending all day moping.

“I’ll make dinner. I didn’t find any cool recipes for that though,” you say.

“My darling,” he draws you near and the fridge shuts on its own, “you are all I need in this moment.”

💔

The artist, Marissa, helps you down from the chair. You’re dizzy from reclining for so long and the pins in your hair jab your scalp. You glance at your reflection and blanch. You look like you but... not. In a good way. In a way prettier way than usual.

She leads you out to the counter at the front of the salon. Jonathan stands as he sees you. You thought he might busy himself elsewhere. You’re surprised he stuck around that long.

“Wow,” his blue eyes shine as he nears, “you look splendid. Not that you aren’t always immaculately gorgeous, darling.”

Marissa giggles from behind the till, “aw, that’s so sweet. Is this the first family event for you two?”

You nod as you face her, Jonathan’s hand hover behind your back as it so often does. As she worked on your hair and makeup, you managed to put in a few details about the dinner but were just as happy to let her gab.

“It is,” Jonathan answers as he pulls out his wallet. “And a wedding right after. It will certainly be exciting.”

“And you two... are the bells ringing for you soon?” She tinkles playfully and turns the pinpad to him.

“Mm, well, that matter should always be a surprise, shouldn’t it?” He taps his card. “Thank you very much. You’ve done a masterful job.”

“Thank you, sir,” she preens. “I hope you have a lovely dinner.”

You smile and let Jonathan herd you away. He opens the door ahead of you and Marissa gives another swoony ‘aw’ as her coworkers whisper. You’re overwhelmed by all the attention, yet you’ve never had anyone jealous of you. It makes you feel special, albeit a bit guilty too.

As Jonathan drives, you fidget nervously. You look at the time on the dash and chew your fingertip. He glances over.

“Try not to mess your makeup, darling,” he girds.

You rip your hand away and apologise.

“You’re nervous?” He asks.

“A little.”

“Shouldn’t you be happy to see your family?” He wonders.

“Umm, yes, but it’s just... a big event. Besides, it’s Geri’s dinner. I’ll just let her have her time,” you shrug and fold your hands in your lap.

“Of course, but it won’t be too bad, will it? I’ll be there with you. I don’t mind if you hold my hand,” he reaches over and rests his knuckles on your leg. You twine your fingers through his. “I’ll need courage myself. Three sisters. Mother, father. I am outnumbered.”

You squeeze his hand. You feel suddenly very selfish. He’s so cool and calm, you never once thought of how he might feel about it all.

“It’ll be okay,” you say.

“Yes, so long as we have each other, it will be,” he agrees.

Back at his condo, you stand in indecision before the hangers. You’re not sure which dress to choose. You opt for the deep shade of midnight blue. Since it is an evening event, that would be more appropriate than the champagne.

You step into the dress and pull the fluttery sleeves up over your shoulders. You reach back for the zipper but can’t quite reach. You spin in your struggle and as you face the door, you find Jonathan watching you with an amused slant in his lips.

“Need help?” He prompts.

You nod and give a bashful smile. You hold up the lacy bodice as he strides toward you. He wears a sleek pair of checkered grey slacks and a matching jacket, with a complementary tie with geometrics lines over a pressed white shirt. He is sophisticated and sauve and you still feel like that unwanted girl in her lonely apartment.

You turn your back to him and he grabs the tab of the zipper. As he tugs it up slowly, his thumb tickles your spine. It sends a shiver through you. You spine to face him again.

“Fawn, how do you only get more beautiful with each breath?” He says.

“Oh,” you blush and sway. “Me? You look... great. Handsome.” You feel all mushy saying the words out loud.

“Now, you are going to make me melt,” he purrs as he runs his hands up your sides. “Do you think we can cancel? Perhaps show up a bit late?” He winks and squeezes your hips. “That dress is doing something to me.”

“Jonathan,” you smack his chest lightly. “No, my mother would kill me.”

“Oh, Eugenia is a sweetheart,” he grins. “But I am a gentleman so I will have you there on time. So, let us not linger or my worst instinct may take over.”

You shake your head, “just need to grab some shoes. Oh, and a purse.” You hang the other dress in the closet and spin around. You had a clutch... there. “Um, did you still have my phone? I can let my sister know we’re on the way.”

“Hm, yes, but you shouldn’t need it with you. It is an event. We can’t be on our phones all night,” he chides.

“No, I know, it’s just... I feel like I haven’t checked my emails in ages.”

“Mm, alright,” he sweeps out of the room and you stand, a bit startled by the shift in his demeanour. You remind yourself that he might be anxious about all the new people.

He returns and hands you your phone. You message Geri and your mother, just to be sure. You keep the cell in your hand and look at Jonathan.

“I’ll put it to do not disturb,” you suggest. “Okay?”

“Well, I suppose there may come an emergency,” he sighs. “I won’t argue. We haven’t time for it.”

You flinch and tuck the phone into the clutch. You rub your lips together then stop yourself. You follow him from the room and stop to check your make up in the mirror hung in the hall. It’s still in tact.

You step into your heels and bend to strap them on. Jonathan sidles around you, his keys jingling. Before you can stand, you squeal at the grope on your ass. You pop up and teeter on your shoes.

“Jonathan!” You exclaim.

“I’ve got to get it out of my system now,” he smirks. “Oh darling, I’m not sure I’ll make it through the night.”

“If I have to, you have to,” you poke him. “Now please, no more. I can’t handle it.”

“Oh, you cannot?” He chuckles and steps closer, drawing you flush to him as he scoops your ass in both his hands. “Not this?”

“Jonathan,” you press your hands to his chest. “Please.”

“Mmm, what if I was quick?” He purrs as he rocks you.

“We have to go.”

“I know, darling but I’m so very hungry,” he slathers down at your chest. “We can make an excuse. Traffic is absolutely terrible, isn’t it?”

“Oh gosh,” you squeak and squirm, “I can’t--”

“Oh, you don’t have to do anything, fawn,” he slides his hands down as he lowers himself to his knees. He tugs at your skirts as you cry out in shock. “I only want a taste... I’ll save dessert for after dinner.”

He throws your skirt over his head and disappears beneath. He pulls your leg up and over his shoulder and you wave on one leg. He has you off-kilter as he nuzzles the front of your panties. He hums and it rolls through you.

You grab onto the shape of his head through your dress and cling to him to keep from falling over. You couldn’t stop him if you tried. As all things with him, it’s easier to just let him do as he will. Besides, you are in no hurry to face your family.

#jonathan pine #colin shea #dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #jonathan pine x reader #dark colin shea #dark!colin shea #colin shea x reader #crushed #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #what's your number?#the night manager

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webdiggerxxx · 10 months ago

Note

How do u find cool stuff on flickr ;_;

i search keywords that im interested in go to advanced search and use their "date taken" feature to narrow down the most recent date posted, i usually go for 2013-2014 at the highest but it rly depends on what u want and what ur looking for! i open like 20 tabs (lol) of all the pics in the search results that i like and then see if the pics are in any groups or galleries (galleries are more lucrative tbh!) and then check out the posters page, their likes, if they've made any galleries, sometimes who they follow if i rly like their work. then i follow accounts ive already gone through which makes the posting process easier cus i can tell if i've already seen something after 3,000 posts on here lol BUT its also super useful for the search function cus a "from people you follow" option will come up where the pics from ur followed have all been tagged with the keyword in some way, its amazing how much stuff i miss (and some flickr accounts have like 80 pages and i just cant be bothered to look at all of them). but thru all this i truly never ever run out of cool stuff to find it's genuinely a problem at this point i have dozens on dozens of flickr tabs open and my computer is going to flip me off and die any day now 🫢

hope this helps!!! ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆

#ask #no gatekeep just girlboss #tutorial #i guess?

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geneeste · 1 year ago

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Creating a personal fanfic archive using Calibre, various Calibre plugins, Firefox Reader View, and an e-Reader / BookFusion / Calibre-Web

A few years ago I started getting serious about saving my favorite fic (or just any fic I enjoyed), since the Internet is sadly not actually always forever when it comes to fanfiction. Plus, I wanted a way to access fanfic offline when wifi wasn't available. Enter a personal fanfic archive!

There are lots of ways you can do this, but I thought I'd share my particular workflow in case it helps others get started. Often it's easier to build off someone else's workflow than to create your own!

Please note that this is for building an archive for private use -- always remember that it's bad form to publicly archive someone else's work without their explicit permission.

This is going to be long, so let's add a read more!

How to Build Your Own Personal Fanfic Archive

Step One: Install Calibre

Calibre is an incredibly powerful ebook management software that allows you to do a whole lot of stuff having to do with ebooks, such as convert almost any text-based file into an ebook and (often) vice-versa. It also allows you to easily side-load ebooks onto your personal e-reader of choice and manage the collection of ebooks on the device.

And because it's open source, developers have created a bunch of incredibly useful plugins to use with Calibre (including several we're going to talk about in the next step), which make saving and reading fanfiction super easy and fun.

But before we can do that, you need to download and install it. It's available for Windows, MacOS, Linux, and in a portable version.

Step Two: Download These Plugins

This guide would be about 100 pages long if I went into all of the plugins I love and use with Calibre, so we're just going to focus on the ones I use for saving and reading fanfiction. And since I'm trying to keep this from becoming a novel (lolsob), I'll just link to the documentation for most of these plugins, but if you run into trouble using them, just tag me in the notes or a comment and I'll be happy to write up some steps for using them.

Anyway, now that you've downloaded and installed Calibre, it's time to get some plugins! To do that, go to Preferences > Get plugins to enhance Calibre.

You'll see a pop-up with a table of a huge number of plugins. You can use the Filter by name: field in the upper right to search for the plugins below, one at a time.

Click on each plugin, then click Install. You'll be asked which toolbars to add the plugins to; for these, I keep the suggested locations (in the main toolbar & when a device is connected).

FanFicFare (here's also a great tutorial for using this plugin) EpubMerge (for creating anthologies from fic series) EbubSplit (for if you ever need to break up fic anthologies) Generate Cover (for creating simple artwork for downloaded fic) Manage Series (for managing fic series)

You'll have to restart Calibre for the plugins to run, so I usually wait to restart until I've installed the last plugin I want.

Take some time here to configure these plugins, especially FanFicFare. In the next step, I'll demonstrate a few of its features, but you might be confused if you haven't set it up yet! (Again, highly recommend that linked tutorial!)

Step Three: Get to Know FanFicFare (and to a lesser extent, Generate Cover)

FanFicFare is a free Calibre plugin that allows you to download fic in bulk, including all stories in a series as one work, adding them directly to Calibre so that that you can convert them to other formats or transfer them to your e-reader.

As with Calibre, FanFicFare has a lot of really cool features, but we're just going to focus on a few, since the docs above will show you most of them.

The features I use most often are: Download from URLs, Get Story URLs from Email, and Get Story URLs from Web Page.

Download from URLs let's you add a running list of URLs that you'd like FanFicFare to download and turn into ebooks for you. So, say, you have a bunch of fic from fanfic.net that you want to download. You can do that!

Now, in this case, I've already downloaded these (which FanFicFare detected), so I didn't update my library with the fic.

But I do have some updates to do from email, so let's try getting story URLs from email!

Woohoo, new fic! Calibre will detect when cover art is included in the downloaded file and use that, but at least one of these fic doesn't have cover art (which is the case for most of the fic I download). This is where Generate Cover comes in.

With Generate Cover, I can set the art, font, dimensions, and info content of the covers so that when I'm looking at the fic on my Kindle, I know right away what fic it is, what fandom it's from, and whether or not it's part of a series.

Okay, last thing from FanFicFare -- say I want to download all of the fic on a page, like in an author's profile on fanfic.net or all of the stories in a series. I can do that too with Get Story URLs from Web Page:

The thing I want to call out here is that I can specify whether the fic at this link are individual works or all part of an anthology, meaning if they're all works in the same series, I can download all stories as a single ebook by choosing For Anthology Epub.

Step Four: Using FireFox Reader View to Download Fic Outside of Archives

This is less common now thanks to AO3, but the elders among us may want to save fanfic that exists outside of archives on personal websites that either still exist or that exist only on the Internet Wayback Machine. FanFicFare is awesome and powerful, but it's not able to download fic from these kinds of sources, so we have to get creative.

I've done this in a couple of ways, none of which are entirely perfect, but the easiest way I've found thus far is by using Firefox's Reader View. Also, I don't think I discovered this -- I think I read about this on Tumblr, actually, although I can longer find the source (if you know it, please tell me so I can credit them!).

At any rate, open the fic in Firefox and then toggle on Reader View:

Toggling on Reader View strips all the HTML formatting from the page and presents the fic in the clean way you see in the preview below, which is more ideal for ebook formats.

To save this, go to the hamburger menu in the upper right of the browser and select Print, then switch to Print to PDF. You'll see the URL and some other stuff at the top and bottom of the pages; to remove that, scroll down until you see something like More settings... and uncheck Print headers and footers.

Click Save to download the resulting PDF, which you can then add to Calibre and convert to whichever format works best for your e-reader or archive method.

Step Five: Archiving (Choose Your Own Adventure)

Here's the really fun part: now that you know how to download your fave fanfics in bulk and hopefully have a nice little cache going, it's time to choose how you want to (privately) archive them!

I'm going to go through each option I've used in order of how easy it is to implement (and whether it costs additional money to use). I won't go too in depth about any of them, but I'm happy to do so in a separate post if anyone is interested.

Option 1: On Your Computer

If you're using Calibre to convert fanfic, then you're basically using your computer as your primary archive. This is a great option, because it carries no additional costs outside the original cost of acquiring your computer. It's also the simplest option, as it really doesn't require any advanced technical knowledge, just a willingness to tinker with Calibre and its plugins or to read how-to docs.

Calibre comes with a built-in e-book viewer that you can use to read the saved fic on your computer (just double-click on the fic in Calibre). You can also import it into your ebook app of choice (in most cases; this can get a little complicated just depending on how many fic you're working with and what OS you're on/app you're using).

If you choose this option, you may want to consider backing the fic up to a secondary location like an external hard drive or cloud storage. This may incur additional expense, but is likely still one of the more affordable options, since storage space is cheap and only getting cheaper, and text files tend to not be that big to begin with, even when there are a lot of them.

Option 2: On Your e-Reader

This is another great option, since this is what Calibre was built for! There are some really great, afforable e-readers out there nowadays, and Calibre supports most of them. Of course, this is a more expensive option because you have to acquire an e-reader in addition to a computer to run Calibre on, but if you already have an e-reader and haven't considered using it to read fanfic, boy are you in for a treat!

Option 3: In BookFusion

This is a really cool option that I discovered while tinkering with Calibre and used for about a year before I moved to a self-hosted option (see Option 4).

BookFusion is a web platform and an app (available on iOS and Android) that allows you to build your own ebook library and access it from anywhere, even when you're offline (it's the offline bit that really sold me). It has a Calibre plugin through which you can manage your ebook library very easily, including sorting your fanfic into easy-to-access bookshelves. You may or may not be able to share ebooks depending on your subscription, but only with family members.

Here's what the iOS app looks like:

The downside to BookFusion is that you'll need a subscription if you want to upload more than 10 ebooks. It's affordable(ish), ranging from $1.99 per month for a decent 5GB storage all the way to $9.99 for 100GB for power users. Yearly subs range from $18.99 to $95.99. (They say this is temporary, early bird pricing, but subscribing now locks you into this pricing forever.)

I would recommend this option if you have some cash to spare and you're really comfortable using Calibre or you're a nerd for making apps like BookFusion work. It works really well and is incredibly convenient once you get it set up (especially when you want to read on your phone or tablet offline), but even I, someone who works in tech support for a living, had some trouble with the initial sync and ended up duplicating every ebook in my BookFusion library, making for a very tedious cleanup session.

Option 4: On a Self-Hosted Server Using Calibre-Web

Do you enjoy unending confusion and frustration? Are you okay with throwing fistfuls of money down a well? Do you like putting in an incredible amount of work for something only you and maybe a few other people will ever actually use? If so, self-hosting Calibre-Web on your own personal server might be a good fit for you!

To be fair, this is likely an experience unique to me, because I am just technical enough to be a danger to myself. I can give a brief summary of how I did this, but I don't know nearly enough to explain to you how to do it.

Calibre-Web is a web app that works on top of Calibre, offering "a clean and intuitive interface for browsing, reading, and downloading eBooks."

I have a network-attached storage (NAS) server on which I run an instance of Calibre and Calibre-Web (through the miracle that is Docker). After the initial work of downloading all the fic I wanted to save and transferring it to the server, I'm now able to download all new fic pretty much via email thanks to FanFicFare, so updating my fic archive is mostly automated at this point.

If you're curious, this is what it looks like:

Pros: The interface is clean and intuitive, the ebook reader is fantastic. The Discover feature, in which you are given random books / fic to read, has turned out to be one feature worth all the irritation of setting up Calibre-Web. I can access, read, and download ebooks on any device, and I can even convert ebooks into another format using this interface. As I mentioned above, updating it with fic (and keeping the Docker container itself up to date) is relatively automated and easy now.

Cons: The server, in whichever form you choose, costs money. It is not cheap. If you're not extremely careful (and sometimes even if you are, like me) and a hard drive goes bad, you could lose data (and then you have to spend more money to replace said hard drive and time replacing said data). It is not easy to set up. You may, at various points in this journey, wish you could launch the server into the sun, Calibre-Web into the sun, or yourself into the sun.

Step Six: Profit!

That's it! I hope this was enough to get you moving towards archiving your favorite fanfic. Again, if there's anything here you'd like me to expand on, let me know! Obviously I'm a huge nerd about this stuff, and love talking about it.

#genie's stuff #calibre #calibre-web #bookfusion #personal fanfic archive #archiving fanfic #saving fanfic

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arminaa8 · 6 months ago

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Saving Fic Epubs and Metadata Using Calibre

I FINALLY spent time learning how to set up Calibre with the FanFicFare plugin in order to easily keep track of fics that I've read. What's really awesome about it, though, is it does way more than just "keep track":

It saves epubs for future downloading (in case the fic is pulled from AO3)

It automatically "scrapes" metadata (title, tags, warnings, etc.) from the fic and includes it in Calibre's built-in spreadsheet

Allows you to create custom categories for things like notes and personal ratings, as well as categories for metadata not scraped by default (word count, for example).

Every bit of information scraped is SEARCHABLE and SORTABLE! Tags, authors, published date, etc.

However, the instructions for how to do all this are not clear-cut and are scattered on different sites and forums. So I've created a little guide based on what worked for me!

Here are my categories (if you know me the fic shown is not a surprise). I couldn't fit them into one long horizontal screenshot so I split them into two.

Most of these are default categories, but some (Thoughts, Words, Summary, Ratings, and Notes) are not. I've excluded default categories I didn't need, and created custom ones for the information I wanted to include.

Tutorial below the cut!

Download and install Calibre.

Once the program is open, click Preferences > Get plugins to enhance calibre Search for and install the FanFicFare and EpubMerge plugins (EpubMerge works in tandem with FFF and allows for downloading an entire fic series into one file).

_________________

Custom Columns

Preferences > Preferences > Add your own columns The custom column screen is shown below. Anything unchecked is a category I didn't want to include in my list. Anything with a column icon next to it means its a custom column I created. To create a new column, click +Add custom column.

The settings I made for each of my custom categories are shown below. Take note of the "column type" for each category. You can make any kind of columns you'd like!

Once you've made your custom categories make sure to click Apply on the "Add your own columns" screen. Now we need to configure the FanFicFare plugin to assign data to some of the custom categories. Click the down arrow next to the FanFicFare plugin icon on the main Calibre screen, then click Configure FanFicFare. On the next screen click the Custom Columns tab.

You will see a list of your custom columns with drop-down menus next to each. For columns you want the plugin to automatically fill, click the drop-down and select the matching data from AO3. There are many options to choose from, including pairing, language, warnings, etc. Note that I left the Notes and Thoughts columns blank. This is because I will input that information manually for each fic.

_________________

Downloading Individual Fics

Arrow next to FanFicFare > Download from URLs Paste in entire-work fic URLs into the black box. I personally found it tedious to copy/paste each link, so instead I found a Firefox extention called Copy All Tab URLs that does exactly what it says on the tin: copies all URLs from any open tabs. Much easier. Click OK. Then, WAIT. It takes a minute to fetch the data. If a fic is restricted, the plugin may show a pop-up asking you to log into AO3 so that it can access the fic.

You're good to go when you see the following pop-up in the bottom-right corner. Click Yes.

_________________

Downloading An Entire Series

FanFicFare combined with EpubMerge allows you to download an entire series into one epub file!

Arrow next to FanFicFare > Get Story URLs from Web Page

Paste in the link to the SERIES page.

Click For Anthology Epub to download everything in that series into a single epub.

The next screen lists all the links in that series. Nothing to do here but click OK.

#calibre #fanficfare #fanficfare plugin #ao3 #archiveofourown #fanfiction #fanfic

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cannedpickledpeaches · 1 year ago

Text

Insert Your Name (12)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: Last chapter! Side stories will follow. Thank you for sticking with this series for so long! This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Tags: @guava-enjoyer @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe @chikitasmol @night-shadowblood-writes2 @haveneulalie @owodi

7:30 P.M. DD/MM/YYYY

I thought I knew the truth for a while—that this world existed inside a story. That this was a world which revolved around a nameless, faceless, flawless main character. This entire world around me existed to serve one purpose: to present trials to the main character until she eventually finds a happy ending with her one and only. This world was created for “(Y/N).”

I was Friend A. Friend A was never mentioned again after page two of that story.

It turns out that I was sort of wrong. This world is made for stories, from stories, and (Y/N) happened to be the main character at the time. Now that I’m the author, I made myself the main character.

You wrote “story” and “world” so much that they hardly look like real words anymore. The tip of your pen hovers over the first page of your journal. It’s your first time keeping one, and you aren’t certain how to proceed. What tone do you use? Should it be informal or professional? How long should each entry be? How detailed should you make it?

The trapdoor to the attic flips open. Floyd’s head pokes through it like a garden eel in the sand.

“Whatcha doin’ over there? Still lookin’ for that manuscript?”

You shake your head. The manuscript for (Y/N)’s story disappeared without a trace after your meeting with Hans. No matter how hard you searched, nothing turned up, so you could only assume he retrieved it.

“No use in looking for it. I’m starting on my journal.” The pen twirls in your hand. “I’m not really sure how I want to write it.”

He hoists himself up and saunters over to where you’re curled up at the window. He peers at your handwriting. Flippantly, he flops on the floor next to you and yawns.

“Who caaares. Write whatever ya feel like writin’. It’s not like the one before was any good.”

The previous author’s manuscript was riddled with inconsistencies, plot holes, and grammar mistakes. It wouldn’t be a massive problem. Hans would simply have to work harder to fill in the gaps.

“The previous one failed, though.”

“Then just don’t fail.” He grins up at you. “Easy, right?”

You pinch his nose, laughing when he swats at your hand.

“Easier said than done.” Despite that, his words ease the burden on your shoulders just a bit. You don’t need to overthink this. It’s your story, yours to tell however you’d like. “Thanks for the advice, though.”

“Sure, sure.” Your name rolls off his tongue dismissively. “You worry too much.”

You glance at him. “You’ve been calling me ‘Red Handfish’ recently, why’d you switch back to my name?”

The lamplight glints in Floyd’s eyes briefly, then he closes them. A lazy grin spreads on his lips.

“I was calling ya ‘Red Handfish’ ’cuz I was hopin’ you’d get your hands all red and bloody again.” A huff of air escapes him. “Shoulda been there when you beat up the security.”

“Typically, you’re supposed to not hope I’m beating up your men.”

“It’s fine. Not like Jade and I need much protectin’.” His voice quiets down to a mumble. “You’re enough for security or whatever.”

His voice trails off at the end. Soon, quiet snores fill the attic. Seeing that he isn’t planning on disrupting your writing, your attention returns to your journal. Following his advice might not be a bad idea.

My main priority was to break the curse on Mr. and Mrs. Leech. I thought I’d have to ask (Y/N) to reach out to Vil Schoenheit or write something in this journal, but it turns out I didn’t have to do anything. Hans went ahead and nudged the odds in my favour already. At least, I suspect he had a hand in it. But I’m never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I’ll happily accept that Walrus’s team and our own people have found a way to break the curse.

Azul was slightly disappointed that he didn’t manage to find a method on his own. He really wanted to put the twins in his debt, but I guess he’ll have to sulk. His specialty is potions, after all. Not curses. He’s also a little salty because this implies Vil Schoenheit is still more skilled than him on the subject of curses. His competitive nature never dies down when it comes to other competent people, even after all these years.

Anyway, the curse was undone three days ago. They’ve woken up perfectly stable and healthy, if a little tired. The twins have spent nearly every waking hour in their room. I’m glad they’re all looking much more lively.

Their parents wanted to go right back to work, but Jade and Floyd have been very insistent on making sure they rest. Right now, Jade and his parents have decided to split up the work equally, but Jade plans on eventually relinquishing his position as the temporary head of the Leech Mafia. He doesn’t want it back anytime soon. His parents might want him to keep observing their work, but I think he’ll take a long breather after the Carpenter Mafia dissolves. He says he wants to join a research lab on fungi. I’m sure he’ll enjoy himself there.

Speaking of Jade’s interests, Floyd owes him quite a bit for breaking his terrariums. You cast a glance at the twin dozing off on the floor. Jade’s been working him hard. Just as you’re about to pull a knitted blanket off the window seat and drape it over his torso, Jade climbs up to the attic.

“Ah, I thought I might find you two here.” He ignores your shushing motion, speaking nearly louder than his usual conversational volume. “Have you made any progress on that journal?”

“Keep it down, Floyd’s sleeping.”

“Oh? I suppose he is.” He smiles as though he’s entirely innocent. “Even though he should be running an errand on the west side of the city right now. Isn’t that so, my dear brother?”

Floyd stirs, brows furrowing as he grumbles. “Fuck off, man.”

“I’m afraid you’re late. Why don’t you head out? It wouldn’t do for you to procrastinate.” Jade leans over him, his shadow eclipsing Floyd’s face. The latter gripes some more before rolling away and hopping right through the trapdoor. His footsteps echo through the halls, eventually leading to the sound of the front door.

“He’s tired. You should let him rest.” You close your journal and set it beside you.

He kneels by your seat and rests his head on your knee. Gingerly, you reach out and comb your fingers through his hair. His entire body melts against the wall and your knee.

“I am also tired.” His eyelids drop halfway, a pitiable pout on his lips. “Much more so than he is, I’m sure.”

“And what? You want a gold medal for the Fatigue Olympics?” Despite your words, your other hand holds his jaw, thumb brushing over his cheek. “Come on, get off the floor. It can’t be comfortable.”

He sighs in contentment. “With the way you’re touching me, I have half a mind to stay where I am.”

You’ve come to realize that Jade acts this way when he’s looking for attention, and he only actively looks for attention from you. With a sigh escaping the smile on your lips, you ease his head off your knee and move your legs so that your feet touch the floor. He has the gall to look like a kicked puppy.

“You’re so dramatic.” You pat the cushioned space next to you. “Sit up here.”

It’s like his fatigue disappears as soon as you extend the invitation. He wastes no time in sitting next to you, his thigh pressing against yours. One of his hands reaches behind you. You feel it causing the cushions to shift under you as he uses it to support his weight. Strangely, it feels more intimate than if he had touched you directly. The knowledge that his arm is there creates a sense of security. Sturdy, safe, like the face of a cliff that has your back. He’ll never be a threat to you. You think back to what you once thought of people who trust Jade, and you wonder if you’re a fool, desperate, or if you have something on him.

It might not be so bad to be a fool once in a while.

You lean into his side and rest your head on his shoulder. A pause, followed by the light pressure of his cheek against your hair. His body is cool to the touch like always, and you find comfort in it.

“I’ll help you make new terrariums to replace the ones Floyd broke.”

“How kind of you.” The hand behind you lifts, only to find its place on your waist, securing you to his side. “In that case, I should consider what I’d like to grow in them. Lichen would decorate some surfaces well, but I doubt it would be possible.”

“Lichen?” You often see it back home near the shore. “Why not?”

“It cannot survive in a closed system like my terrariums.” His voice lowers to a soft, almost sweet tone. “It requires clean, fresh air, outside the confines of a box that I control. The charm of keeping a terrarium is that I control every factor within it, down to what lives or dies. But despite the fact that it eludes my grasp, I adore observing its beauty in the environment where it thrives.”

Somehow, you don’t think he’s talking about lichen anymore.

“Lichen grows on trees and rocks, right?” You think about the cliffside. Patches of pale green life covered the rocks where you met Jade. It brought a sort of earthy, rustic quality to the area. “It’s pretty. I think I’ve seen a few of your photos focusing on it.”

“Yes, it needs to be anchored to a sturdy surface.” He adjusts his grip on your waist. “Unassuming, allowing other elements of the scenery to shine, but charming and effective in its own right.”

You don’t want to ask if he’s referring to you. He’ll surely tease you for being self-absorbed. However, you are not so prideful as to not acknowledge what he’s trying to say.

“I sort of understand wanting to be anchored to something.” You place one hand over his. “It’s easier to let my guard down when there’s something that can protect my back.”

“Allow me to assist you with that.” He intertwines your fingers. “If you must be anchored to something, I’ll be more than happy to provide you with support forever, until you ask me to stop.”

“All this talk about ‘forever.’” A grin pulls at your lips. There’s no harm in teasing him once in a while. “It’s like you’re trying to marry me. What’s with that, huh?”

His entire body freezes. You lift your head from his shoulder, trying to look at his face.

“Jade? I was joking—”

He gently presses against your temple, his wrist blocking your eyes as he guides your head back down to his shoulder. What a letdown. This time, you really wanted to see his expression.

“Incidentally,” he says, “would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow?”

“You changed the topic way too abruptly.” Laughter bubbles in your throat. “I thought you were better at making conversation than that.”

“I’m inclined to disagree.” He doesn’t elaborate. “Are you free tomorrow evening? We can book a reservation for that restaurant you wanted to try.”

Usually, you wouldn’t turn it down. But . . .

“Sorry, I’ll be out with (Y/N) all day.” You’ve missed her. And after she called you in distress over losing the polaroids you took together, you promised to replace them with new ones. There’s so much you have yet to do with her. “Maybe the day after?”

Jade sighs loudly, as though he’s the most pitiful being in the world. Amidst teasing laughter, you close your journal and focus your attention on him. It’s alright to take your time writing it. Your story is a process that does not need to be rushed. It may only be a page at the moment, but one day, you’re sure this journal will fill with your experiences, plans, and thoughts. You will continue on living as your own person—not a side character or a main character in a grander scheme, but as yourself. To live as a human being with your unique experiences—that is your story.

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #jade leech #twst jade #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #twst fanfic #mafia au #floyd leech #multi chap fic #slow burn has burned #thanks for reading so far!

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baronessblixen · 11 months ago

Note

I wish you’d write a fic where mulder and scully are at a restaurant in Rome ! (Am I too late ?)

You were not too late, anon, it just took me a while to finish this! I loved it and I immediately knew it had to be a fluffy fic(let).

Tagging @today-in-fic

There are, he presumes, easier ways to catch Scully in a sundress than whisking her away to Italy on a random Tuesday. Not that he’s complaining; if he could, he’d sit here for hours – no, days – just watching her.

It’s not just the sundress; it’s the way the sun kisses her skin, reminding him of when his lips did the same. He knows how soft her skin is, how her freckles taste against his lips. The smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth is unavoidable. Not that Scully is paying attention to him. While she’s taking it all in, he’s mesmerized only by her. Rome might be beautiful, but it has nothing on Dana Scully. In a sundress, no less.

“Mulder,” she says, her eyes drifting over to him. “Are we really here for a case?”

Ah yes, that.

“We are,” he replies, pretending to look for the waiter. Now would be a good time for their food to arrive. Food that Scully ordered for them both in impeccable Italian. At least Mulder presumes she did. He sat there grinning like the love-sick fool he is when she started speaking to the waiter.

“You told me to bring comfortable clothing,” Scully says, her eyes scrutinizing him. “Is this restaurant being haunted by ghosts?” Oh, he loves this woman. He smiles, matching the amused glint he catches in her eyes.

“No,” he says, leaning forward, as if what he’s about to say was a secret, ”we’re here for the Gata Carogna.” Scully’s eyes widen in curiosity. When he pitched it to Skinner, their boss merely nodded, and Mulder is certain he just wanted them both out of his non-existent hair for a week.

Scully remains quiet, seems to be waiting for him to continue, so he does.

“It’s a cat-like creature,” he says, leaning closer and closer still. The city around them is bustling, but he only has eyes for her. He’s close enough that it would take less than a whisper to close the distance between them. “It has an appetite for children’s souls.” He blinks at her and waits for her to react.

“That’s a fun story,” Scully says in her no-nonsense voice. “There’s just one problem with it.”

“Which is?” Scully takes a sip from her water and Mulder swallows, feeling thirsty himself. Moments slip by as he watches her. Then she leans in, and he’s momentarily distracted by how wet her lips look.

“The Gata Carogna, Mulder, has its haunting grounds in Lombardy, not Rome.” He’s too stunned to reply to her, frozen in his place where their noses are still almost touching. What might people passing by think, seeing them? Would they think they’re a couple on a romantic getaway?

“Does that mean Skinner didn’t buy the story either?” He grins sheepishly at her. “Skinner sanctioned this?” Mulder nods. “This isn’t- oh my God, Mulder, I thought this was- I thought you were only using this as a ruse!”

“A ruse? For what?” he asks innocently. They’re on the same page after all. He can no longer hold his laugh in when he sees color shoot into her cheeks.

“It is,” he admits, finally. “I mean I did go to Skinner and he did sanction it. We’re here on, well, let’s call it an official vacation.”

“We’re not here to chase after ghosts, or soul-stealing cats?” He shakes his head no and smiles at her, knowing the sun isn’t to blame for the warmth running through this whole body. “We’re here to…” she trails off, her eyes searching his.

For this, he thinks. To take a breath. To leave behind the world, the monsters, and their pasts; everything that keeps chasing them.

“For whatever you want,” he says instead. He knows exactly what he wants. Knows that he wants to hold her hand and make happy memories for a change. Knows that he wants to kiss her when the sun sets. And he knows he wants to go to bed with her, snuggle up, and ward off any nightmare that might have followed them here.

Now it’s up to her.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll think of something.” And then, just before the waiter arrives with their food, she leans over the table and presses a soft kiss to his mouth.

For once, he’s done everything just right.

#my ficlet is done!#i am so proud #my writing #my fic #xf fanfic #msr

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kyra45 · 1 year ago

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Scam posts and how to spot them

(Scam posts and how to spot them)

Hi! My names Key (or Jess depending on where you know me from) and I’m here again on your dashboard to tell you about scams and the general things to look out for when you get asks for mutual aid.

Disclaimer: Not every blog asking for mutual aid is a scammer and therefore you shouldn’t assume everyone is a scammer on sight. It’s necessary to do some research into the accounts who appear in your askbox or DMs.

—

Anyway, what is a scam post?

A scam post is a post that’s usually asking for monetary support but isn’t being entirely honest about the reason and also may be misleading or stolen from someone else. These posts range from a variety of topics but generally are based on trending events or medical attention such as needing insulin or medicine to prevent lungs from collapsing. The scam post means that the post is false and no money sent is going to someone who needs it because the poster is lying and isn’t telling the truth about who they are or what their fundraising for and may be stealing their post off someone else to make bank. Sometimes a scam post is about needing to pay a bill for pet care and the images are stolen off another fundraiser offsite much like the usual scam.

—

How do you find out if something is a scam?

One of the best ways to find out if a post is a scam is to search the username of the blog and see if anyone’s made any posts about the account who sent you an ask. It’s also suggested to search the ask as well to see if it may have came from another blog who was already called out for the same scam at some point in time. You may also find the account disappears before you can answer the ask if you was waiting some time before answering it.

It’s also likely the account may reuse the same pfp/story across multiple accounts with very little change in their posting content. This means the blog sending the ask has only a few random reblogs and then one original post. What the blog hopes for is that you don’t bother scrolling down a lot to see how very few posts they may have. If you use timestamps, you’ll see that often the pinned post is a few days old or even hours old. The tags also are usually completely unrelated to the content itself. (If you’re legit and do this for visibility, don’t. It’s spam if not in reblogs. Please use only related tags as per the rules.) Sometimes the link is several colors of text. (If you do this for some reason, please consider accessibility for those who can’t see some color and may miss the link entirely.) And other times there’s a linktree link posing as something else.

Also the blog may say they’re vetted/verified but keep in mind this doesn’t matter if they don’t tell you or say anywhere on their blog who vetted them or what organization confirmed their legitimacy. They won’t say who because asking whoever it is would instantly call out the scammer themselves. It has happened already and that’s why you shouldn’t trust a ‘vetted’ blog if they don’t list anyone anywhere on their page. Some accounts will just say that and expect you to not ask anything because they can’t pass whatever means of verification is asked for.

—

What do you do if you know for certain a post is a scam?

Please alert anyone sharing the post and also make a post yourself compiling the evidence you’ve gathered proving the scam so others searching will see it and be able to decide for themselves if the account is a scam or not. This makes it easier for a scam blog to be found out even if they try changing urls as they always do that for some reason.

#scam #how to spot a scam blog #longpost #long post #donation scam

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bloodfin · 1 month ago

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Chapter 1: Your Infernal Majesty

Summary: In the Depths of the Pit, Rain receives a sacred summons that will tear him from his home and thrust him into an uncertain fate above. He grapples with the weight of tradition and loss, while Dewdrop prepares for his own transformation: a long awaited shift from water to fire. While memories of summonings past resurface, a shadowy figure stirs in the Ministry Archives and it becomes clear: something ancient is watching, and none will remain unchanged. Multi-chapter fic (not complete)

Tags: slow burn, additional tags to be added, hurt/comfort, elemental magic, elemental transition, angst

a/n: it was literally easier for me to have emergency surgery and bring a child into this world than it was for me to start posting this fic. but it's a story i want to tell, so here we are... hope you enjoy this first chapter, i've had this hiding in my drafts for well over a year at this point

Read below, or on Ao3

Bubbles stream from a young ghoul’s mouth as he speeds through the shadowy depths of the healing halls, eyes wide with urgency. He clutches a scroll in a trembling hand, sealed with gold and heavy with the weight of something far beyond him. Something sacred. Something terrifying.

The Hall of the Depths is quiet, filled with an overwhelming scent of medicine. Clean algae, crushed coral, resin and ink. Reeds rise tall around each nest, swaying gently with the currents. Light is scarce here, swallowed by brackish water. The only glow is his own bioluminescence, reflecting off the shimmer of sleeping ghouls’ breaths. He inhales deeply and steadies himself. Searching.

There.

He catches a swift movement ahead, a flash of elegant deep blue, violet-dipped fins pulsating with a calming green light. He surges forward.

“My lady,” he calls, louder than intended, voice echoing through the still.

She turns, her graceful form curling back. “Jasper? Are you alright?”

He can feel his whole body betraying him, skin lit with every nervous hue, flickering in time with his racing heart.

“Urgent,” he says, handing over the scroll with a bow of his head. “From the Prince Himself.”

She examines it carefully, gills flaring for heartbeat when she examines the golden seal. Despite settling back into calm neutrality, Jasper feels the tension bloom in her silence like blood in water. She turns it again, small flickers of yellow present in the webbing between her fingers.

“For me?” she finally asks quietly.

“No,” he murmurs, avoiding her gaze. “It’s for Rain.”

She hums, and turns towards the two younger ghoulettes that had been working beside her.

“Tend the patients,” she says quietly, “and don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything.”

She stills for a moment, recentering herself as she clutches the warm scroll.

“Let us make haste. He should be in the upper hall.”

Jasper nods, unable to keep his glowing skin from betraying the swirl of emotions he carries; duty, confusion, and dread. He follows close beside her, their tails slicing silently through the water as they leave the Hall of the Depths behind. That place, sacred and heavy with sorrow, is where the weakest were nurtured back from the brink. He always admired the ghouls that worked there.

As they swim upward through the ascending tunnels, Jasper can’t help but glance at her. She moves with purpose, but her silence speaks louder than words. He can see it in the subtle twitch of her fin, the ever-so-slight tremble of her gill slits. The seal had rattled her, and that scares him more than anything. .

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

Rain always possessed a deep calm, similar to his mother. But rather than working towards long term, more palliative care, he performed exceptionally in the emergency hall. Quick-witted and sure of his own skill, he has seen a plethora of ill and injured ghouls in the hundreds of years he has practiced alongside the members of his clan.

He nearly barrels into his mother and her page, having darted out at the first opportunity when he felt the brief wave of her distress.

“Mama? Are you well?” Rain’s voice is soft and calm, but Jasper can see the way his shoulders tighten, how his fingers twitch at his sides, bracing for bad news.

She smiles faintly and reaches out to brush her thumb across his cheek. Jasper observes the color shift below his skin, the telltale flicker of yellow - nervousness - tightly coiled and barely hidden. But if fades with her touch, grounding, as it always has been.

“There is to be a summoning,” she states plainly.

“I see,” Rain hums. He tilts his head slightly, processing. Always assessing, always calm.

“For someone in the clan?” He studies her face and searches her eyes and she hates the flash of fear she sees in his. Her silence speaks volumes.

“For you, then?”

She shakes her head and presses the elegant scroll into his palm with quiet reverence.

“For you,” she whispers.

Rain stares at the scroll in his hands, heavy despite the fine parchment. His name isn’t marked on the outside but it feels like it had been written for him long before now. He turns it over once, then once again. The seal shimmers with Infernal gold, the Prince’s signature mark pulsating gently.

“Is it Infernal magic, or are my hands just that cold,” Rain says softly, more to himself than anyone else. It feels warm against his skin, a magic that is old and sure. Final, in a way.

She doesn’t answer, doesn’t need to. Rain feels the current shift in the water around her. She watches him, heart breaking quietly behind her calm exterior. He finds a moss-covered rock and perches there, like he had so many times as a child. It grounds him, makes him feel small in a comforting way.

“Perhaps there's a mistake?”

“He doesn't make mistakes, my child.”

He knows she’s right, she always is. With an exhale that was probably more forceful than necessary he slowly, reverently peels back the seal.

He unfurls the parchment and begins to read aloud.

Corentin Tempestas of the Great Salt River Clan,

Rain blinks. No one ever uses his full name. The formality is chilling, and he finds himself swallowing hard before continuing.

Your presence is required on the surface, for the grand Ghost project. One trunk will be sent after your arrival, through a separate portal. Consider one set of ceremonial clothing.

Summoning will take place after moonrise tomorrow.

A drop of blood pressed with your thumbprint will bind you to this contract.

Your Infernal Majesty,

Rain shakes his head a few times, reading and reading again, processing. The words are heavier than reef stones, immoveable, undeniable.

He’s caught somewhere between defiance and disbelief. “Isn't summoning supposed to be a request?”

“Typically,” his mother agrees, scanning over the document. “But this is different. He’s not asking, Rain. He’s calling.”

Rain’s jaw tightens and he shakes his head, trying to cast the weight of the words off of it.

“But I am needed here. This is where I belong. I save people, I don’t -” His voice cracks, which startles him. He recenters with a deep breath. “What do they even want from me up there? To play in a band?”

His mother sighs and places a hand on his shoulder, and it's then that he realizes his gills are flaring. He's sure his face is bright yellow.

“If He is calling you directly, there is a purpose. One only you can serve.”

“Signed it ‘L' too,” Rain grumbles, stopping mid eyeroll after catching his mother's quirked brow. “Sorry, mama, I just don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to. Not yet.” Her hand still rests on his shoulder and she squeezes at him in a way that has always been reassuring. “The path will reveal itself to those that walk it.”

Rain thinks of the other summoned ghouls, the haunted looks they return with. There is fire in their eyes. Pride. A clear cost that weighs on their shoulders upon their return. He’s not met anyone that has come back from this ‘Ghost project,’ and that only serves to heighten his anxiety.

But perhaps that is his purpose, to aid the suffering on the other side. Summoning is not easy, and neither is returning.

Rain lets out a breath, long and low. Then, without ceremony, he brings his thumb to his lips, draws blood with a sharp fang, and presses it to the parchment.

It hisses and the seal flares once - the summons is complete.

“This is a great honor, sweet sprat. I know you will make your clan proud.”

Rain smiles as best he can and squeezes at his mother's hand. He knows she'll sit with him as he packs, probably slip a few extra trinkets into his trunk after he leaves.

Leaves.

He's hardly even been on the dry land of the Pits, let alone ever considered going beyond. He thought he'd follow the path of his clan, remaining in the Halls of Healing until he was needed elsewhere.

And he supposes he has done exactly that.

He just never imagined that the call would come so soon.

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

Mountain leans on the doorframe of Dewdrop's room, watching him flit about to pack away his various belongings. He's only going across the hall, but the boxes will surely make the change easier. Fewer trips and all. His arms are crossed but there is no judgment in his stance, only quiet observation tinged with sadness.

Dew is everywhere all at once, fluttering from a trunk to a shelf to a pile of clothes and back again. A ribbon of nervous energy trails behind him despite his grin. His tail flicks in nervous bursts, betraying the thrum of adrenaline in his bloodstream.

“Sure about this, then?” Mountain’s voice is low, rough around the edges with worry.

Dew pauses his frantic movements, an old hoodie in his hands, and looks up. His sky-blue eyes meet Mountain’s dark green, and for a moment the room seems to still.

“‘Course Mounty, never been so sure.” His voice is quiet, more deliberate. He sits on the edge of his nest, rubbing the old worn fabric like it will give him the words he needs.His voice always makes Mountain smile, he doesn't have the two-toned metallic thrum that the other water ghouls do. Just one scratchy tenor that makes his heart thump a bit harder. “I just don’t know how to explain it.”

“You don't have to,” he rumbles, stepping further inside and filling the whole door frame. “Not to me.”

Dew looks down at the short webs between his fingers. “Does the Earth talk to you?”

Mountain nods, of course it does. The Earth is his lifeblood, his lullaby. It whispers through roots and rock, through ancient rivers carved in stone. He sings back to it, day in, day out, ancient magic flowing deep in his veins. He doesn’t have to listen for it. It’s simply part of him.

“The water doesn't talk to me,” Dew confesses, his voice steady but with a raw edge. “Not really. Not the way it talks to the others. I get echoes, now and then, when the moon’s full. But that’s it. She’s never felt like home.”

Mountain makes a low sound in his throat, understanding if not quite empathy. He can never claim to know the ache of that silence, but can honor it.

“And fire does?”

Dew’s face brightens with something deep and his tail swishes behind him with excitement rather than nerves.

“Yes,” Dew smiles, big and broad. “I can't wait to feel it in my fingertips. I watched Ifrit and Alpha for hours, practicing, channeling all that passion. Not just into the guitar, but into the Ministry. Keeping hearths warm, leading. It speaks to me in a way the water never did. There is purpose in fire, it makes me feel… seen.”

Mountain tilts his head slightly and his voice, though gruff, holds a softness that only Dewdrop can ever draw out of him.

“As long as you're sure, waterlily.” He pauses, then smiles gently. “Or maybe firelily, now.”

Dew’s tail wags at that, his laugh bubbling out of him like a burst of air during a deep dive.

“I've never been more sure of anything. This is it. This is who I'm meant to be.”

Mountain hesitates, scratches at the back of his neck. “Wha'd'ya think is gonna happen to… her?”

Dew raises his eyebrow.

“You seriously asking about my tentacle at a time like this?”

Mountain flushes an earthy green, the mossy color spreading quickly across his cheeks and nose. He opens his mouth to stumble through an apology but stops when Dew’s warm laughter fills the room again.

“I'm just fuckin' with ya big guy,” he grind. “I honestly don't know. We can all shift, so I've been hoping since I started with her, I get to keep her. I'm really gonna miss her if I don't.”

Mountain nods, still feeling sheepish. “We could ask Delta, if you want.”

Dew stands then, crosses his room to wrap his arms around Mountain's waist, pulling himself close until he can rest his cheek against his chest.

“Rather not. They've got real Haunting of Hill House vibes, you know?”

Mountain laughs, a deep echoing thing, and holds Dew tighter. He knows exactly what he means.

Everyone knew Delta was strange, still water deep and dark. He moves through the Ministry like a shadow, always where he wasn’t expected and somehow never where he should be. His voice was quiet, but carried, and no one could remember exactly what his face looked like after they looked away.

“Once,” Mountain rumbled, “I saw them whisper to a stone wall that leads to the catacombs. It started bleeding.”

Dew blinked, then shuddered. “Exactly. I’m not asking them about my tentacle.”

“Besides,” he continues, nuzzling in close, “what could possibly go wrong?”

The memory of exactly that possibility drifts between them like a slow-moving current, unspoken but vivid.

The Air summoning.

It was supposed to be routing; ceremonial, calculated, precise. The Circle has been drawn in silver dust and bone ink, ancient sigils and lines humming with purpose: to summon one air ghoul. One.

But the veil between realms had a sense of humor.

The portal shimmered like a mirror cracking underwater, refracting reality. Wind howled through the stillness of the summoning chamber, bringing with it the scent of ozone and something far older, storm slick stone, high peaks, and lightning that had never touched the ground.

Two ghouls stepped through.

Not one.

Two.

The first was intended: a willowy ghoulette with eyes like pale grey clouds and short hair that drifted upwards like she had never even heard of gravity. She blinked, startled, but still poised. Confused, but composed.

Her hand was wrapped around that of another ghoulette, this one with eyes like a storm and fluffy, curly hair that seemed to float like a cloud. She was shorter, stockier, and looked more afraid than the ghoulette that came through first.

It caused a bit of a fuss, really, this second figure coming through. There was an urgent need for more: another blanket, a mask, more hands outstretched in comfort, endless voices offering explanations while others searched for answers.

So much chaos, in fact, that no one noticed when a third came through. No one saw the smoke. To be fair, at first, it was just a tendril. Then a slow, spiraling column that spun in silence at the edge of the open gate. It twisted like it was looking, learning, remembering. Before anyone knew what was happening it compressed, sharply, folding in on itself like a breath being held.

And from that breath, he formed.

A figure, tall and lean, wrapped in a glamour so fine it might as well have been his skin. Dark hair bundled at the top of his head, windblown ever so slightly. His eyes were like the eye of a storm, calm only because of the chaos they held in the center.

He stepped forward casually, his glamour finishing its subtle shimmer as his bare feet touched the edge of the circle. No one had seen him until he spoke.

“A mated pair huh?”

Every head turned.

A beat of silence, and then absolute chaos.

There were shouts, gasps. Someone dropped the mask they had found for the extra ghoulette and it dented when it hit the ground. One Sister screamed. And the Cardinal, who had been so steady throughout the initial mess, met the ground with a quiet thud when he passed out in a mostly dignified way.

The ghoul at the center of it all ginned, showing off his perfect row of sharp, gleaming teeth. Nothing hostile, just knowing. Like he understood something no one else in the room had realized.

“Good luck with that,” he muttered, and then turned like he was already bored.

That had been about two weeks ago, and Dew couldn’t remember now without laughing.

Dew chuffs at the memory and affectionately headbutts Mountain's chest.

“You just like his shiny teeth.”

“Yeah,” Mountain says fondly, and Dew can practically hear the hearts in his eyes.

“Freak.”

Mountain laughs and leans back in Dew's arms, taking in his water features for the last time. The clarity of his horns, his wide sky-blue eyes, the pretty green freckles and stripes that decorate his blue-grey skin. Dew comes from the shallows, with shorter webbing between his fingers and toes. More land-like adaptations, due to the proximity.

He's certain Dew will look just as striking once fire takes hold, if not more so with all the confidence he is sure to find in his new element.

“C'mon firelily, Aether should be about ready with the movie.”

Dew purrs and lets himself be pulled out of his room and down the hall, anxiety kept at bay by rising anticipation.

Tomorrow will be the start of the rest of his life.

So, what could possibly go wrong?

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

As the soft sounds of laughter echo down the hallway, a long shadow slinks back into a darker wing of the Ministry. Delta watches them go, unreadable eyes gleaming faintly in the gloom.

They don't sigh, or smile, or even blink, just turn, the beads and chains woven into their robes whispering with their movement. With quiet steps, they slip down a hidden corridor few even know exists anymore.

The Ministry Archives are not closed, exactly, but few bother to visit the deepest stacks where the oldest scrolls are kept in locked drawers, sealed with wax and cursed glyphs. Delta moves with familiarity, not needing light, their fingers brushing across labels written in a dozen dead languages. They find the drawer they want without hesitation.

Inside is a single folder, its contents humming faintly with trapped magic.

He removes a page. Faded, water-stained, but the name still shines faintly under enchantment:

Corentin Tempestas.

Delta’s scarred gills flutter once. Not with surprise, but anticipation.

They fold the paper with reverent care, then open a narrow cabinet hidden in the stone. Inside sit dozens of files. Some are marked with a red sigil. Others are burned around the edges. He files Rain’s under a new section: ACTIVE.

A whisper echoes through the corridor. The same word, over and over:

"convergence."

Delta smiles, just barely. The glamour flickers on his form for a second, revealing something far less aquatic, far more skeletal beneath.

Then it’s gone.

They close the cabinet, seal it with a murmur only the stones understand, and walk back into the halls above.

#rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #delta ghoul #cardinal copia #swiss ghoul #cirrus ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #the band ghost fanfiction #*slaps roof of fic*#man i can fit so much lore in here #this is really just original fiction using a sprinkling of canon for extra flavor... but who's counting #anyway if you're gonna be mean to me about this at least do it on anon so i can get a little entertainment out if it thanks love you bye <3

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