#( not here but thriving ↳ queue. )

[tom-is-online]

hi tumblr artists :)

REBLOG YOUR OWN ART, DO IT. GOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGO

theres no shame in it at all your art deserves to be seen if you want it to be

[intheholler]

I'm a many-many-generations-Appalachian, and when I was a teenager, everyone assumed I'd leave, so I thought I should. And then when I did leave, someone called my mama and told her I was the most homesick child they'd seen in decades, that she should come get me. She didn't, because she wanted me to succeed that badly, but I got myself back to Appalachia PDQ. And then I never left again, because Appalachia is where I belong.

I know the stereotypes, but we can be happy here, too. I've got a good life, with a well-paying job I love, a silver anniversary spouse, wonderful children, and a nice house. My mama lives with us and that's just how we like it. Our quietly queer little family is proud to be Appalachian, and our children learn our history, like the recorded story from their great-grandfather who saw the Baldwin-Felts get off the train in Matewan.

Are there problems in Appalachia? Sure. But that doesn't mean we are all living in misery. Appalachian lives are more than poverty porn and strip mines and drugs and Dew mouth. We have our own festivals and music and art and foods and books to celebrate our shared heritage. We have our own holidays, too, like the first day of deer season. There can be a lot of joy in our Appalachian lives, if we let it.

And of course, we can all join together to remind folks that #heaintfromaroundhere ;)

.

[daily-hanamura]

[frnkiebby]

sleep???

nah.

sorting my frimages??

much better use of my time.

[tmf-confessions]

that comic episode is doing wonders for the fandom bro

[kohakhearts]

mental health check? BAD 👍🏼

[mvncesa]

044. an underwater tunnel in an aquarium, fish swimming overhead and sharks looming in the distance . / DATE,,,,,,,,

It was only the fourth or fifth time that Decker was able to visit such a place. Despite his interest and enjoyment, places like the aquarium or the zoo was always difficult for him to visit. The prices and finding the time to go aside? There were always just enough people to put the wolf on edge due to, well, what he would describe as sensory issues.

But there were advantages to his partner being as close to nocturnal as a human being could get. At that point, most families were trickling out to make their way home and have a family meal while the others were at the end of their time there, as well. They had a good couple of hours to spend exploring the aquarium, observing the fishes and allowing themselves to simply enjoy themselves.

It was also a date. It took Decker an embarrassing amount of time to realize that it was a date.

Decker seemed to have the same amount of amazement and wonder as a child would in the same scenario. Expression open in childlike awe, head tilted back to watch the fishes swimming above them. His attention flickered from fish to fish before it landed on the sharks. They held his attention for a solid minute before he seemed to snap back to attention as his gaze fell away to eye Kurjak. A soft smile curling at the corner of his lips as their gazes finally met.

He was quick to point at one of the fishes, maybe a bit less attractive than the colorful fishes around it, as he glanced back at his boyfriend. "That one looks like you."

[httpsserene]

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊’𝖘 1𝖐 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 - 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖑𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖘

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫

summary: slightly less innocent, virgin!reader has had her view of pleasure shifted. her libido has increased to insane levels after she finally allowed her boyfriends to fix her…dry spell. charles and max have no issues with helping her ride out her newfound sexual appetite, and figure that she may be ready to take the next step. or, more accurately, take the next hand. content warning: 18+ only. explicit. no penetrative sex. corruption kink. handjobs. thigh riding. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. charles leclerc is a brat. orgasm denial. there's smidge of humor in here somewhere i think. slight humiliation kink. word count: 4.2k words pairing: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader soundtrack: gun • doja cat

preface: AHHHH OMG I HAD THIS IN MY QUEUE AND THE DATE WAS 9/12 INSTEAD OF 12/9 I WAS IN THE WOODS WITH SPOTTY CONNECTION ALL DAY AND I HAVE TBLR NOTIFICATIONS OFF ON MY PHONE I AM SO SORRY I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT! ALL FUTURE EPISODES WILL BE POSTED AT 12 PM ON THEIR RELEASE DAYS!

prev 1k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents next ↻

it’s laughable. you can’t believe that you almost bought a vibrator instead of telling your boyfriends that you were ready to start the sexual aspect of your relationship. actually, it kind of makes you mad—you could’ve been experiencing the most mind blowing levels of pleasure years ago, if you had just gotten over your own insecurity.

max and charles had been dating each other for a couple years before they found you. you were a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend, and they were enamored with you as soon as they were introduced. you cringe whenever they reminisce over the first time you met them—the men think it’s the cutest first meeting ever.

they met you on a yacht in monaco. an older member of the ferrari team was retiring and decided to have a relaxed celebratory brunch on a chartered yacht. charles, of course, would be attending; he’s sure he’s most likely contractually obligated to go, but he also enjoys going to these sorts of events, he flourishes and thrives in social settings. however, on this particular day, max and charles had already planned for a date. 

when charles had been forwarded the invitation from andrea (his trainer), who had texted him threats of bodily harm if he didn’t show up—he whined and groveled to max about having to reschedule their date. max had shushed charles’ dramatics, and simply pulled out his phone to show a text thread between him and brad (his trainer), who sent him the invitation to the yacht party. charles made a noise of surprise; this brunch is more relaxed than he thought. max shrugged and pressed a kiss to charles cheek–all they have to do is make an appearance, greet who needs to be greeted, congratulate who needs to be congratulated, and then they can sneak away and leave early for their date.

that was the plan. and everything seemed to be going according to the plan. they had boarded the vessel (nobody knew the rivals had come together), everyone assumed they had just arrived at the same time. they quickly congratulated the retiree, and charles separated from max to go and charm everybody on the boat, while max had gone to take advantage of the brunch spread.

the dutchman was halfway through his second plate of finger food when charles had returned to his side, bringing their trainers and a few engineers along with him. the monegasque was stealing bites of food off his plate, and max gently tapped on the face of his richard mille watch to remind charles that they needed to start wrapping up. 

except, joris had just boarded the yacht—and you were at his side.

charles choked on his bite of stolen food, and max distractedly patted his back to clear his airways. it was like time slowed down, their vision tunneled, and the noise of conversations around them quieted; at the sight of you. you were wearing this light, flowy, orange sundress that complimented your warm brown skin, accessorized with gold jewlery, a pair of heeled tan sandals, and your curly hair was free and blowing in the breeze. you kept your gaze lowered, like you were fearing making eye contact with anybody on board, and you turned to slightly hide behind joris as you frantically whispered to him.

charles and max had decided then and there; they need to know you.

you had parted from joris at the sound of someone calling for you and the sight of you walking away, broke the trance the two drivers had been under.

when charles’ friend made his way over, they were quick to interrogate him about you, and why exactly he’s never introduced you to them before. joris threatened them before he gave them permission to pursue you (not that they needed it), and refused to answer any of their questions about you. he told them to go talk to you, and warned them to be gentle with you—as you have a more shy and introverted personality. it took nearly thirty minutes for charles and max to find where you disappeared too. you were chatting to the retiree, and as soon as you wrapped up the conversation—max inserted himself in your path, and ‘accidentally’ bumped into you.

you stumbled briefly, finding yourself bumping into charles as well. you frantically apologized to the two drivers, eyes wide with embarrassment—and max and charles found themselves vehemently reassuring you that it was their fault, and that you don’t need to apologize.

once you calmed, max started to test the waters.

“it was completely my fault. i should’ve been paying more attention to where i was walking but, i got distracted—because you look too beautiful in this dress.”

your mouth parted in surprise and you giggled awkwardly, not expecting the compliment (charles had to muffle his snort, max is incredibly corny), “oh! thank you—it’s really the dress that’s beautiful.”

the monegasque stepped in, “ah, no that cannot be. the dress only compliments how pretty you are.”

you hummed, eyes flickering between the two of them nervously, and caved to their flattery.

“mmm, thank you…the orange works with my skin tone pretty well.”

“it does,” max agreed with a soft smile, “i must be your favorite driver—since, you’ve dressed in dutch orange.”

your eyes widened, as you giggled at his bold claim, laughing harder when charles’ pretends to be angry at max’s words. the couple watches as your smile shifted from something sweet, to something teasing as you fumbled over what to say in response.

“oh? well, if i did dress for my favorite driver, it would be lando norris. because, this color is more similar to papaya than your dutch orange.”

max scoffed, and charles bursted out laughing—the two of them not expecting the teasing from you, based on how joris led them to believe that you were the shyest thing to walk on earth. 

that interaction had completely cemented their urge to date you. they ended up staying at the yacht party, just talking to you the entire time, enjoying making you blush and fluster, flirting around the limits of how much affection you could take from them. they missed their dinner reservation, but found themselves taking you out to dinner somewhere near the waterfront. 

at the end of the night, you exchanged phone numbers with them and they sweetly told you that they’d reach out to you for a second date. you had made a noise of surprise, completely disbelieving that you were on a date, or that they’d want to see you again. but, charles and max were quick to make their intentions clear as they realized they may have been moving too quickly for you.

you can’t believe that was over two years ago. the boys had been so kind with working hard for your trust, and with a final conversation about how this relationship would work—you had agreed to be their girlfriend. of course, you had your stipulation of not being ready to have sex, but the boys did take that in stride and didn’t try to coerce you into changing that boundary. matter of fact, they had even offered to stop having sex between the two of them if it made you uncomfortable—which you disagreed with on the spot; they didn’t need to limit their actions with each other just because you needed extra time. 

and extra time, ended up being two years. charles and max had waited two years without complaining once, about the fact that you still weren’t ready to have sex with them. apparently, the final aspects that you needed to realize you were ready to have sex were: being unable to get yourself off for a month while they were in the midst of a triple header…and also that, you trust them with your entire soul. 

and goddamn, did their patience result in a valuable reward.

ever since max and charles had cured your dry spell by giving you the most life-changing orgasm from riding max’s thigh, you’ve been insatiable.

it’s like your horny-meter was struck by lightning and was overloaded and stuck at the highest setting—it feels like a perpetual ovulation week. it feels like you can’t look at max’s thighs without getting wet, it feels like you can’t hold charles’ hand without your knees buckling. it wasn’t like you were never horny before the thigh-riding incident (max finds the title hilarious), but to be consistently desperate—you’ve never felt like this before. it’s like the monegasque and the dutchman have awoken your sex drive and shifted it into high gear. your libido has been so insanely high that the men have pretty much offered themselves to you as free-use.

you wake up horny? choose your fighter: charles’ thigh or max’s thigh. you get turned on by charles kissing your cheek? ride his thigh. your tummy knots up when max calls you pretty girl? ride his thigh. your panties get wet when charles comes back from getting a haircut? ride his thigh. your clothes fall off when max smiles at you? ride his thigh. your brain turns to mush when charles and max make out? ride their thighs, twice.

you’ve been so pleasure-crazed that you ended up getting a friction burn from how often you were using their thighs. 

you whimpered in shame as charles rubbed aloe vera on the irritated skin between your legs.

“vior (see)?” charles said to max, who was sitting on the bed next to you holding your hand, “she has sensitive skin—we should not have let her use our thighs so often.”

“ah,” max dismissed, ignoring your mortified whine, he smirked at charles, “she’s just learned how good we can make her feel—forgive her desperation, schatje?”

charles lightly presses on the inflamed skin, and you slightly hiss in pain. he stares at max with an unimpressed expression, 

“and now feeling good too often has her feeling bad, non?”

charles resumed his gentle massage of aloe vera, as he continued to bicker with max about you, like you weren’t lying right there. mortification had the melanated skin of your cheeks flushing with a visible blush, and you muffled your embarrassed whimper into max’s thigh. the humiliation of your boyfriends discussing your barely-sex related injury as if you aren’t present should have been horny-level reduction material—but secretly, you enjoyed it; just a little bit. 

with a pained gasp, you slammed your thighs shut around charles’ hand when he passed over a more seriously-raw area of skin. his hand was forced up, and it brushed firmly against your cunt—and that previously pained gasp transformed into a moan of pleasure. the conversation around you silenced abruptly. you kept your eyes tightly shut, refusing to pull away from the safe haven of max’s thigh. you heard charles laugh disbelievingly, and with his free hand he easily pulled your thighs apart with little effort. the casual show of strength only had you getting wet. 

he made a show of flexing the hand that was entrapped between your thighs, before he dropped two of his fingers on top of your panties and guided them to circle over your clit through the thin cloth. your eyes flew open, and with a squeal your hips bucked up to chase his hand; but he was too quick, and pulled away, using that same hand to hold your hips down on the bed.

“you’re so horny that you completely forgot about the friction-burn you have on your thighs from your previously extremely horny activities,” max deadpanned, staring down at you with a blank expression.

“i can’t help it,” you murmured shyly, “sorry.”

“don’t apologize,” max stated, releasing his grasp of your hand to brush his thumb across your cheek, “nothing’s touching your cunt for a week.”

“huh? WHAT? why? no—why not?” you blurted out in confusion, ignoring charles’ snort.

“liefje—you could barely handle charles rubbing the gel into your skin; you are too sore and inflamed. no pillows, no hands, no thighs.”

you humphed, knowing max is right, but not wanting to admit it. 

“that’s torture! i just started getting to experience real pleasure and now i can’t even cum for a week?!” you whined up at max with pleading eyes.

“you went without using our thighs for two years—you can handle a week, mon coeur,” charles patted your hip with an annoying smile, before he climbed off the bed to put the gel away.

“charles, don’t tease her,” max sighed, “it’s just a week, pretty girl. you’ll be fine.”

you are not fine.

it’s the slowest time has ever passed in your entire life. honestly, the nerve of your boyfriends to have beautifully muscled thighs around you. you’ve been put in horny jail–seriously! the two men seem to have a radar for whenever you start to get turned on. no matter how hard you try to suppress any changes in your body language or facial expression, they sus you out in a few seconds. it’s uncanny; before you even open your mouth to try and persuade them into anything, they squish your cheeks together and say, “not yet,” and then walk away to give you space to calm down. every instance of this in the first couple of days was more mortifying than the aloe-vera gel application situation (which max now applies for you since charles couldn’t refrain from teasing you), but you quickly became desensitized.

max will not budge. he lets you whine, grovel, beg, promise, and plead. he sits through your whole monologue of desperation on day four, and smiles the entire time. when you finish your expertly delivered request to be allowed one orgasm from his thigh, he pats you on the ass and walks away. the amount of rage that filled you was probably unhealthy–how the fuck does he manage to be so unfazed?

charles, on the other hand, you could break. on day five, you trapped him in bed, sneakily convincing him to spend five more minutes with you while max brushed his teeth. you were quick to initiate sweet kisses, humming into the press of his lips, before you pull away and squirm on top of him to straddle his torso. 

the love-tinted haze cleared from his eyes as soon a he puzzled out your motive, and the monegasque moved to guide you off his body, but you halted him, pressing a firm hand in the middle of his bare chest. 

“c’mon cha–just let me, it’s been so long,” you pout down at him, doe-eyes wide and pleading, “don’t you wanna make me feel good?”

charles wavered–it has been so long. he doesn’t think he’d forget how your face looks as you orgasm, but it would be nice to see it again. you slowly grind your hips down on his, and charles manages to hold back any noises, but his eyes flutter in pleasure. the brunet halts your hips when he sees the brief flicker of discomfort appear in the furrow of your brows.

“ah, regarde toi (look at you)!” charles tuts disapprovingly, “you know you aren’t ready, just wait a little longer!”

you climb off of his lap, and bury your face in the pillow next to him, muffling a dramatic scream to make sure he knows how displeased you are. he rubs your back soothingly, letting you release your anger, before you flip over and huff.

“fine–whatever. two more days. two more days…for me,” you murmur, ignoring charles’ squint at your words, “just because i can’t do anything doesn’t mean you two can’t, right?”

charles shrugs his agreement, “yes, i guess. we haven’t came since you can’t. we were just planning to wait for your skin to recover.”

your heart warms at their abstinence, and the gears of your brain start turning. 

“hmm. you know you don’t have to wait for me? i kind of got myself into this situation and it’s not fair for–”

“no. max and i are both responsible too,” charles cut you off, “we should’ve taken more care to make sure you weren’t pushing yourself too far.”

“i don’t blame you guys–i was jumping the two of you everytime you so much as breathed in the same room as me. but, that’s not the point! i was going to say: shouldn’t i thank you guys properly?” 

“quoi? how?” he tilted his head to the side in question.

“i mean, isn’t it time i learn how to make you feel good too? i’ve kind of taken advantage of you, and never thought about making sure you guys feel good, like me.”

“how can you say that, mon amour? you make us feel good everytime we make you feel good,” charles sees that you don’t quite believe him, “you don’t notice how tight our pants get when you sit on our thighs? after you’ve finished, we sneak away to the bathroom to relieve ourselves! trust me, we feel very good with you.”

“hey! that’s my point–i want to make you guys…cum,” you whispered, “not have you sneak away to go do it yourself. can’t you teach me? isn’t now the best time for me to learn when i can’t be distracted by my own orgasm?”

“as long as you avoid rubbing yourself on anything, i’m actually okay with this,” max’s voice carried from the doorway, causing you and charles to jump in surprise. neither of you heard him open the en-suite door.

the dutchman walked over and sat on the bed next to charles, who eagerly supported your suggestion now that max said it was okay. 

“c-can…can we do it now?” you asked quietly, simultaneously afraid of a possible rejection and the idea itself.

the younger man hummed, and sat up next to max. he smirked at the blonde, “i’m sure he can’t say no to the opportunity of having me teach you how to touch him just the way he likes.”

you may have miscalculated, to some degree. does everything about max have to big? big mouth, big hands, big thighs, big…dick. your brain stops functioning at the sight—max sitting with his back against the headboard, legs spread open comfortably, uncaring of how exposed he is, his cock half-hard and still growing where it rests on his thigh, and don’t forget his self-satisfied smirk at the sight of your shock. you squirm from your seat in between his legs and charles steadies you from his position behind you, bracketing your body within the two of them.

the monegasque shifts forward, hooking his chin on your shoulder with his chest pressed along your back, and hums softly, “all of that ,” charles pauses and moves his right hand to apply pressure on your navel, “is going to be deep inside of you soon.”

“ ‘s not gonna fit in me.”

“we’ll make it fit,” max states. you whimpered at his confident tone, and you could feel charles muffle his chuckle in the crook of your neck. 

the click of the lube bottle opening caused you to flinch back into charles, who soothed you with a pat on the hip. the brunet carefully squeezed out a small amount of lube into your right palm and murmured instructions for you to warm up the liquid. he then guided your hand to grasp max’s dick, who sighed softly at your touch.

“touch him however you want, mon ange,” the monegasque directed, “get used to how he feels and then we can make him feel good.”

swallowing down your apprehension, you lightly trace a finger down his shaft, marveling at how he’s a few of your fingers in girth and decently longer than the size of your hand (that’s definitely not fitting inside of you, they have no idea what they’re talking about). you drag the tip of your pointer finger up along the vein on his underside to the head of his cock. the tip is flushed with an attractive shade of pink complimenting the pale skin of his body, and it’s a beautiful contrast to the brown skin on the back of your hand. you wrap your palm around him gently and brush your thumb over the head, making a noise of surprise at his cock twitching in your grasp. a drop of pre-cum beads in the slit and you curiously drag a finger to collect it; you pause, before you bring your finger to your mouth and flick out your tongue to taste it.

it almost tastes like nothing? slightly bitter, a little salty—but, it’s good. he tastes good. 

max groans and the sound of his head falling back and hitting the headboard reminds you that the cock you’re feeling up is attached to him. 

a broken rasp of, “fuck,” slips from his lips, and charles kisses your cheek in approval.

“ah-you’re so good at this already, mon amour,” charles cheered, “let’s give him a hand, together.”

he brings his left hand around your body to join yours around max’s, and leads you through the motions. he starts you on half strokes, having you circle your hand around the head, while he focuses on mimicking your motions around the base. you can see the muscles of max’s abdomen and thighs clenching with the effort of not thrusting forward into your hand.

“shit,” max moans, “the two of you will be the death of me.”

charles nips a mark right behind you ear, “move your hand like this—oui, just like that—and press your palm around the head—good girl—just keep doing that for me, mon amor.”

max groans roughly at the focused attention on the sensitive tip of his dick; he’s going to come embarrassingly quickly. the sight of charles teaching you how to give him a proper handjob is going to keep him up at night.

“liefje, you’re doing such a good job,” max pants, “going to make come already, pretty girl—are you going to lick my cum off your fingers too?”

you moan highly at his words, nodding your head quickly in agreement, eager to keep being good for him. max continues to run his mouth as he gets closer to orgasm: ‘you and charles should taste the cum off your hand together,’ ‘he can’t wait to get his hands and mouth on you,’ etc.

with a stuttered breath, max warns you that he’s cumming—and charles yanks your hand off of him; ruining max’s orgasm. the dutchman shouts in frustration, his hips bucking up freely now, trying to chase the delicious friction that was stolen from him.

with flushed cheeks, max yells, “what the fuck, charles!” and you turn to look at charles, who’s sitting behind you with an extra-pleased smirk on his face. the brat shrugs nonchalantly, not offering an explanation. you bring your hand back to grasp max’s cock—and repeat the same motion of twisting your palm around the head, to lead max back to an orgasm. he moans in relief, thankfully the edge of release didn’t slip away from him entirely—and then you bring your other hand up to make up for charles’. 

all it takes is a few more synced strokes, and max cums. you feel the warmth of his release coat your fingers, but your eyes are stuck on his expression. his mouth parted slightly, eyes shut, his chest heaving, mouth red and flushed from where he was biting at his bottom lip, and you can see the pleasure washing over his face—goddamn, you wish you were feeling what he is. in the haze of appreciating how he looks when he comes, you fail to stop your hands from continuing your motions and max’s hands fly down to halt you once the pleasure slips into too-much.

when he makes eye-contact with you, you raise your cum-covered hand to your mouth and make a show out of tasting his cum. you moan sweetly and smack your lips—honestly, you don’t particularly like or dislike the taste, but the way max’s eyes widen at your display makes you think you’ll learn to love it. he watches you lick your hands clean, and murmurs out a faint, “what the actual hell, liefje.”

“and, you,” the older man’s expression hardens as he directs his cold gaze on charles, “we’re not touching you for two weeks.”

“por quoi?!,” the monegasque pretends as if he doesn’t know exactly what he did.

you and max both ignore charles’ whining, and you smile extra sweetly at max as you wiggle onto his lap, “may i use your thigh, please?”

he digs his thumb into the sensitive skin of your thigh, and you yelp lightly. 

“two more days, liefje,” max orders, “and if you’re patient, you can have more than just my thigh.”

1k special taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool@barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @dreamingofautopia @jayswifee @megatrilss1885 @nanamilkbread @sophia12345678 @benstormy @userlandonorris@xxniallxxsworld @starfusionsworld@hangmandruigandmav @spicybagel14 @ggaslyp1 @idontgotopartiesanymore @woozarts @yourlilitha @smartstupyd

© httpsserene2023

[mightethor]

tags ↳

[wolven91]

Drought vs Flood

Cat calls.

Being called 'cute' or showered with compliments.

Paul had never really considered these an annoyance before. Hell, if he though back to his time on Earth, he couldn't remember the last time when he'd ever received a compliment from a stranger before.

No, that was a lie he realised.

Many years before, an older lady once stopped him to compliment him on a jovial Christmas jumper he'd worn. She said she liked it and that he was handsome in it too. He vividly remembered having a great day that day, despite having to deal with a queue of irate customers throughout the afternoon.

That compliment had kept the man sated for years!

As a man, Paul had never really understood the frustrations of women when they bemoaned the fact that they received compliments and manners from random strangers every day. The man would always hasten to add that he understood them from a logical point of view, but there was always a part of him that had wanted a taste of that life for a while.

Sure, maybe getting them every day might have gotten old, but after over a decade of surviving off one compliment? The man didn't *understand* the frustration. The isolation had to be worse right?

That was until the Earth was destroyed and Paul ended up like a few of his fellow humans, lost amongst the stars as a human, alone in the void.

At first, Paul thrived. He'd lived alone for seven years and with his friends moving away, getting families, or just losing touch; there had been times in his life where he'd gone whole weeks without saying a single word out loud.

After that initial period of learning the ropes, figuring out where he could get a job, food, even the stuff that wasn't quite 'legal' like a drink, Paul settled into what he expected would be a quiet life.

Only, every time he spent time out in public, like when he went to sit in the tiny bar that would serve him under the counter, it wasn't that quiet.

"I just love your fur; can I touch it?" Asked the bull-like alien as they had already begun reaching out and touching thick leather pads to the crop of hair atop Paul's head. The man shoved the alien's wrist away from him.

"No, thank you." He grunted, still hunched at the bar, uncomfortable about the two aliens that stood either side of him. Both were, alien, they had the heads of bulls but bodies that he would have given his left arm for back home. But regardless of their physical attraction, this was week three of not being able to have a single moment's peace outside of his own quarters.

"Oh come on, I read you love it when someone pets you?" Smarmed the second, quoting some bullshit, pardon the pun, text that Paul himself had read. Apparently, a few of the survivors had let slip that they were touch starved, so now every alien and their mother was quoting this as if gospel.

If Paul ever got his hands on the moron that uttered those...

"Not all humans are the same." He growled back, gripping his drink.

"Well, what if I showed you a gun? You like guns, right?" Offered the first taurian, briefly turning their hip and displaying a holster.

"I repeat, not all humans are the same." Paul was British, he thought guns were a tool and nothing more. No more exciting than a pen or a pair of expensive scissors. More than a handful of Americans made it out and had made a huge scene when they found out guns were illegal to humans. Yet more misinformation chumming the water.

"Aww come on, we're just being friendly. It's okay! I also read that your society said you had to be prudes; it's not true, you can relax." The alien explained as if she wasn't taking a big dump on the entire human civilisation and its history.

Paul sneered at the fact that he mildly agreed. The odd concepts that were considered fact back home were outright frowned on up here. With all the fur and lack of breasts on those without; clothes were almost optional by those not actively working. Granted Paul wasn't a nudist and didn't have the body to want to flaunt it, but it was a breath of fresh air to not be so gummed down with social rules.

"I was relaxed," Paul sniped, but the jab went well over the two female taurian's horns. "I just want a quiet drink." He reiterated, breathing deep and remaining calm. The sluggat barkeep watched him carefully, his eye stalks watching the taurians and the human independently. He was hanging around by the bar's emergency distress button.

"We can drink with you." Offered one of them, Paul didn't even bother looking now, instead attempting to drill a hole in the opposite wall with his eyes.

"I don't want company." He explained clearly.

"Why not?" They prodded.

"Because I said so."

"That ain't a real answer, just let us-"

"Can you actually fuck off?!" Paul snapped, turning his body to the last one to speak. "I don't want company, I don't want a drink from you, I want to be left alone!"

"Alright, fuck us, right? We were being nice and now you're acting like we're attacking you. We're the nice ones, but I guess you'll only learn that when you meet the other kind."

Paul just rolled his eyes as the pair stepped away from the bar and, as one walked past, clipped the leg of the stool Paul was sat on, jangling his already on edge nerves.

They grunted something as they passed that the translators flagged as an insult.

Paul rubbed a hand over his face as he sighed and tried to relax. The sluggat slithered over and asked if he was all right.

"Yeah, I'm... I'm fine." The man replied absently, using a thumb to wick the moisture off the side of his glass.

A drought, versus a flood.

That was how Paul now considered the perspective from before. How he would explain the difference of perspectives to a younger self.

How could the drowning woman understand the dying man in the desert?

It was great to be the centre of attention for a week or two, but the way they got handsy? If he didn't actively stop them, and make it clear he wasn't 'playing hard to get' that they'd start groping him?  The way they didn't give him space or even listen when he said 'no'?

Even when they were weird... and smelt bad... Not all the creatures up here were attractive.

"Fuck." The man drew the word out with a breath he only realised was shaking as his voice shuddered. With a guilty grimace, the man reached into his pocket and retrieved the data slate. He scrolled through the minimal contacts and selected his guardian.

It rang once before being answered by a near frantic voice that was obviously being kept neutral.

"Paul?"

"Hey Shu'ba. I fucked up... Can you... Can you come get me please?" The man asked humbly.

"Is everything alright?!"

"It's fine, nothing's happened, but I'd feel safer if you were near."

"I got your location, I'm two minutes away."

"Thanks, Shu'ba."

"Don't think anything of it."

"I'm sorry."

The voice of the ssypno sighed through the speaker.

"I get it's hard to have a babysitter, but we're here for a reason. It's okay, I'm almost there."

Paul stayed on the line, even though he and the sluggat were the only patrons of the bar, but when the neon green scales of his guardian slithered into the room, a wave of relief washed over him.

Perhaps it was time to stop giving the serpent the slip?

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[illyrian-dreamer]

Our girl – Part 5

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader angst

Summary: You wake after succumbing to the mating bond.

Word count: 5.1k

<<&lt; Part 4

Strands of hair tickled your cheeks, a warm, gentle breeze kissing your face as you groggily blinked awake. 

 A spring breeze. 

You jolted upright, urgently scanning around you. It was a lavash guest room, soft white sheets settled over your body, lush pillows piled to have cradled your head. You had no idea who's clothes you wore, but you knew you were at the Spring Manor. 

As if on queue, a house maid opened the doors to your room, behind her a healer. It was the same perky house maid that had greeted you when you first visited Tamlin. 

“Oh good, you’re awake, she pepped. The healer wordlessly approached you, pressing her thumb to your wrist. She gave the maid a quick nod before leaving the room, without having spoken a word. 

“She’s mute,” the maid explained. 

Oh. You stared back at her. So were you, it seemed.

“The High Lord will be eager to hear you are awake. Will you take his visit?”

You nodded silently, unable to form the thousands of questions as your brain came to wake. 

Tamlin was in your room in no less than a few minutes. 

“How are you feeling?”

You blinked. You hadn't really thought about that. Looking within yourself, you felt it there, a swollen heart, alive and beating and thriving, but also aching from a deep wound. You were nautious and weak and so gods damned angry. How could the Mother be so cruel?

“How long was I asleep?”

“Just a day.”

You nodded, running your hand through your hair. “And we’re in Spring?”

Tamlin nodded. “Feyre and Rhys winnowed us here.”

You were too tired to gawk, so you blinked instead. “Pardon me?”

“And your… Azriel and Cassian are still here, waiting for you to wake.”

You must still be dreaming. “You opened your home to them?” you croaked.

Tamlin shrugged. “We wanted to bring you to your Uncle’s, but you could see to a healer faster here. Besides, there was no fitting five fae in that cabin, especially two Illyrians.”

“They could have slept outside,” you ground out, and Tamlin chuckled. 

“You do… remember what unfolded at the wedding, don’t you? That Azriel and Cassian are your mates?”

“Do not call them that.” Taming the bite in your tone was beyond you, even for your friend. You had to clench your eyes shut to stop the reel in your vision, your whole body clenching as you remembered that awful, fated moment.

Tamlin didn't falter. Instead he dropped his eyes before reaching for your hand and squeezing it sympathetically. “Are you in any pain?”

“Yes. No. I don't know,” you said plainly, pinching at your nose. It did hurt, this unwanted binding to the two beings you resented most in this world. It hurt to resist them, to resist it. As if there was a home, beckoning you inside to warmth and food and comfort, and instead you stood outside in the hail and cold, despising it for ever being built.

Tamlin’s eyes were soft as he watched you shift uncomfortably. You hated that look too, as if he was sad for you, as if this bond was your fate and you had no say in the matter. 

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he blinked. 

“As if I’m some mindless female destined to forget and forgive and go running back with a kiss to each of their cheeks.”

“I don’t think that–”

“Because I’m not, and I won’t. I still have my head, and my senses, and some gods-damned self respect.” 

Tamlin sighed then. “No one can force you to do anything you don’t want to Y/N. I won't allow it.”

You cast your eyes to the roof then, blinking away the sting of tears. “And what of us, Tamlin? Suppose I was free to explore a future with you?”

Tamlin moved to hold your one hands in his, running a thumb in your palm. “You are free, sweetheart.”

“And you would court me, knowing I’m cauldron-bound to not just one, but two others?”

His thumb stopped rubbing then, and his lips pressed to a thin line. 

You stared hard at Tamlin, eyes piercing. Don’t lie - that look said - we do not lie to each other. 

And as Tamlin raised green eyes to yours, in their softness you had your answer. 

“Your silence is answer enough,” you bit, letting out a sharp breath as tears slid down your cheeks, snatching your hand from his. 

It had started – your choices, your freedom – fading away already. Curse the Mother.

“Come now Y/N, I will always love you, and we will always have each other, however our relationship might change.”

“Lies, Tamlin. Fucking lies,” your voice broke as tears streamed down your cheeks. You were flushed with anger then, kicking off the sheets that were now too hot, your skin beginning to tingle. Gods, not now you begged, holding your breath to stifle the sting at your fingertips.

“I do not lie to you, Y/N.” Tamlin said sternly. 

You swung your legs from your bed, standing in a hurry as blood rushed to your head. “You’re just another disappointment,” you said coldly, pacing as you shook your hands to rid of your power. 

Pain flashed in his eyes, and he recoiled slightly before straightening, his eyes hardening. “You’re being unfair.” 

“You males are all the same! You treat females as if they are objects, owned by one male and therefore not to be touched by another. An unspoken exchange, as if I were cattle and not an actual fucking being.” 

Tamlin pinched his nose then, his jaw tightening. “That is not what is happening here. You cannot punish me for not wanting to entangle myself in your mateship, not when I’m doing it out of respect for you.”

You were being unfair, and quite unforgiving, but your words were as unstoppable as your power in this moment, zapping and dancing at your skin. 

“Is that what you define as respect, High Lord? Because despite a year of friendship, all it took was one gods-foresaken moment for you to side with what they want, and start dismissing me. You believe in the bond, and you respect Azriel and Cassian enough to house them, and agree that you won't so much as look at me again. You have chosen them over me, plain and simple.”

Tamlin’s face was grave, and you knew you were twisting an old wound of his. And perhaps you were being rash, but you didn't care. You would shut him out, or anyone who thought they knew what was best for you. 

“I thought I was helping you by allowing them here,” he said defensively. “I thought perhaps you’d feel safe here, but would still want them close, to be able to talk to them.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re gods-damned right I want to talk to them! I’ll tell them exactly what I think of this couldren-made-shackle, of what I think of the Mother if they think for one second they can–” You swayed on the spot as you spat a string of curses, vision blurring slightly.

Despite the cruel words you had cast his way, Tamlin approached, steadying you by your shoulder’s, biting down on the pain that stung him at his touch. 

“I understand your anger, Y/N, I do. But you’re still unwell, you should rest now and–”

Tamlin should have know better than to test your stubbornness. 

So you marched for the door, flinging it open as you stormed through the manor, using that tether you so loathed to cast out your mates. Tamlin was on your tail, trying to reason to take a moment or calm yourself before doing anything rash. But you didn't turn once as you found the room that beheld your mates, ripping the doors open without so much as a knock. 

They knew you were coming of course. Azriel stood near the bed, and Cassian had just risen from the armchair he sat on in the opposite corner – their faces grave, worried, with a sickening kind of longing. 

It was as if the flesh between your bones went soft, your body begging to give out or give in and relish in the proximity of being close to your mates. But you forced yourself to stay stiff, holding a glare that could cut glass.

“Wipe those looks off your faces,” you bit, stalking into the room.

Azriel cast his eyes to Tamlin who held a look that said I tried to stop her. He knew better than to linger, pulling the doors closed behind you.

“How are you fee–?” Cassian tried, but you raised a hand to silence him. 

They waited in silence, and you darted your eyes between them. 

“You think this means I forgive you?”

They knew better than to answer that. 

“You think this means you can have me, because the Mother wishes to see us mated?” you continued, your voice laced with ice. “Well it doesn’t. I will not head to fate and forsake myself, not even for the cauldron.”

Azriel sighed then, moving to sit at the edge of the bed. “Of course you won’t,” he said plainly. 

You scowled. “Is that sarcasm?” you bit, even though you felt his sincerity creeping through the tether. 

“No. It’s knowing.”

You blinked.

“We know you doll,” Cassian said as he too sat back in the chair, running a strong hand through his hair – a tell sign of stress. “Not because of the bond. But because we’ve loved you for almost a decade now. We know there is not a thing that can set you apart from your principles.”

“And we would never ask that of you,” Azriel added.

You shuffled, your arms crossing defensively. “You won't try to convince me to go back with you?” you asked stiffly.

Cassian shook his head. “No, it was wrong for us to ask that of you in the first place.”

Azriel stood then, moving closer to a settee in the centre of the room. “We do ask that you might let us explain. We have so much we've wanted to tell you, even before you left Velaris. And there is a lot of truth we’ve withheld, things you deserve to know.” He slid his hands behind his back, waiting at the seats – a silent offering to join them, to hear them out. 

It was a temptation you couldn't deny yourself. You moved swiftly, sitting on one side, a low reading table separating you as Cassian took a place next to Azriel. 

“We had suspicions of the bond from when we first began to court you.” Azriel began. “It was so rare for us to long for the same female, but the true hint was in the lack of jealousy we felt between each other.”

Cassian nodded. “We agreed to court you as, well, as partners. It wasn't anything we had explored in our 500 years, but with you, it felt so natural.”

“And your ease too, that was a big sign,” Azriel added. “We half expected you to flee, or never speak to us again.”

“But you were so comfortable, you made it feel… right.”

You were frowning slightly. You didn't remember feeling natural or at ease at all, in fact you were sick to your stomach with nerves when you first began dating. But perhaps they had a point, exploring your first relationship with two males hadn’t added any more challenge than regular dating for you. You had put that down to your friendship of many years. 

“Over the period we dated, and as we fell in love with you, we learned to love each other too. We were brothers, but you showed us how to be more than that, igniting something not even they Cauldron dared show us.”

“We wanted to tell you of our suspicions, but it didn’t feel like the right time. You were so focused on your work, so determined to do well. And I suppose we thought it was a hopeless dream – it didn't feel right to distract you with that.” Cassian explained, leaning into his elbows that rested on his knees.

You weighed up their words, eyes darting between the males. It had never occurred to you that a mating bond was at play. You would have never believed yourself to be cauldron-blessed if they had suggested it – or cauldron-cursed rather.

Azriel cleared his throat, cutting through the silence. “It wasn't until the moment that I killed Alvar, that I felt the bond snap,” he breathed out, his voice husky and his hazel eyes cast downward, grimacing as he recalled the difficult memory. “I watched the life leave his body, and then I heard a snap, a force so strong it made me falter. I was reborn in that moment, my new purpose to solely fill your needs, to care for you, protect you. I could feel your desires overriding mine, and in that your determination and hunger to avenge your sister. And I knew then, that I had made the biggest mistake of my life.”

There was a downward tug of your lips, your face muscles jerking involuntarily as you tried not to cry, imagining that moment that changed everything for the worse. 

“I have dreams of Alvar, still alive and at the mercy of Trutheller. I dream that I sheath my sword and step away, returning to a world where you are waiting for me at our home. And your embrace is warm and true, because you love us, and we never did a thing to ruin it.” Azriel’s voice broke as he flashed those hazel eyes, lined with tears. 

Two silent tears slid down your cheeks, your chest tight with the shallows breaths you kept to keep yourself from crumbling. You didn't respond – what could you say? Instead, you cleared your throat, grasping the arms of your chair even tighter. “And what of you?” you asked Cassian. 

“It snapped for me in that same moment. But I was journeying home from the northern training camps in Illyria.” 

You blinked in shock. The bond had snapped for the both of them, with that greater distance between them while Azriel was across the sea?

“As I was flying back to Velaris, and I heard the snap in my ears before I felt it course through my veins and wounding my heart. That realisation, that same pain that Azriel described, the devastation at what we had done… it sent me crashing into the thick of forest.”

You closed your eyes as you imagined the great War General, bought to his knees by such a thing. 

“It seems none of us have been welcomed to this mateship gently,” you said tightly. Why had the Mother forsaken so much pain?

“I could hear Az then, speak to him through the bond in the same way Rhys and Feyre speak in  our minds. I could feel his panic too, his fear of having to tell you, to break you in such a way. I calmed him down as best I could, and reassured him that we would do it together, as soon as he returned.”

Your eyes turned cold again. “But that isn’t what happened.”

“It was a cowards choice to ask Rhys to be the one tell you, we know,” Azriel said with dismay. “But the concept of hurting you, of wounding our mate so deeply? It was unfathomable.”

“Its not an excuse,” Cassian added. “But we hope you can understand, there is an instinct there that twists our concept of what is wrong and right. Rhys understood that, it was the same instinct that kept him from telling Feyre about the risk of birthing Nyx. I think that’s why he volunteered to tell you, to protect us from something that would wound us so deeply.”

“We are learning, Y/N, and we are so sorry that we hurt you,” Azriel said, hazel eyes pinning you with their intensity. “But we are trying, and we will do better by you.”

You looked between the two of them, pulling your hands to your lap as your fingers trembled. It was just all so much. 

Closing your eyes, you imagined what it would be like to say those words – I forgive you. 

You could see it, relief flooding the bond and breaking those solemn gazes, their embrace and warmth and scent surrounding you, fulfilling your primal desire. Their lips on yours, their hands on your body, yours on theirs, puling each other in and never letting go. There was a thrumming in your heart, a pulsing through your veins. It felt so right. 

But then you thought of the life you had made, the path you were forced to walk by yourself after what they had done. They had broken you completely, and you had put yourself back together, now stronger than ever. Your mission work, your life in Spring, the pain you endured and the scars that remained from doing it alone – it was a part of you now, and you could never let that go. 

You were at a cross roads – one path leading to the overwhelming promise of unconditional love that tempted your heart, the other promising freedom and choice and sense, tempting your head.

“What are you thinking?” Cassian asked, his voice soft from where he still sat, anxiously fidgeting with his hands. 

You took a deep breath. “That I am overwhelmed.”

Cassian nodded, and Azriel watched you before speaking softly. “That is understandable.”

You didn't have an answer for them, not even for yourself. 

“I don't know what to do,” you whispered. 

Cassian continued to nod, casting his eyes down sadly. “Whatever you decide, Y/N, we will do right by you.”

“Of course we dream of you accepting the bond, of becoming our mate, we won't deny that. But we want you to want it,” Azriel added. 

You gulped, anticipating the pain that would come from your next words. “And what if I decide to break the bond?”

Cassian’s head dropped as he let out a wrangled sob. Azriel’s shadows recoiled so fast they disappeared entirely. The latter gripped the chair, his knuckles white as he slipped into that place he so often had to as the Spy Master – a place where nothing could hurt him. “The choice is yours.”

“Please,” Cassian breathed out, tears streaming down his face. It was a plea, even the thought of the bond breaking unbearable to him. 

It unbearable for you too, and fresh tears slid down your face as your arms coiled tighter around the ache in your stomach. It would sicken you, perhaps almost kill the three of you. But it was what they deserved. 

You were exhausted, and keeping that wall up through the bond, stopping their emotions from tampering with your own – that alone had you begging for your bed. 

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” you said with a broken voice, guilt slipping through at the sight of the General sobbing before you.

Azriel put an arm around his brother, comforting him as best he could. “We know that, sweetheart. Of course we know that.”

You cast your eyes sideways as you blinked through more tears. “But I don't have an answer for you.”

Cassian nodded, running his hands over his face as he tried to collect himself. “Take your time,” he said after a few moments, his voice shaky and breaths forced. “We will wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“And you don't need any more bargains from Rhys or Feyre,” Azriel added. “We will respect your privacy Y/N, any and all distance you might need. Let us prove that to you.”

You nodded then, forcing yourself to your knees despite the scream of protests in all of your muscles and joints. Gods, is this how the rest of your life would be, forever fighting a higher cause? Perhaps you’d go mad before you could ever hope to forgive them.

“I will…,” you trailed off, not knowing what to say. “Good bye, Cassian and Azriel,” you forced out, your voice thick from the cry that begged at your throat. 

Cassian’s lip wobbled, and Azriel’s brow broke upwards as he spoke. “Take good care of yourself, Y/N.” 

Cassian’s head felt to his hands, and you forced yourself to close the doors behind you, quieting the sound of his cries. 

————

You spent three weeks at your Uncle’s cabin – mostly in bed and unspeaking, even to Finbark. He dotted over you, trying to pry you from your room to spend some time outside or eat a full meal. But that familiar pain had returned, that same weight that kept you bed bound for days in your old apartment. It was grief, in all shapes and kinds.

You hadn't broken the bond, but it was rejected good and proper for now. And it hurt so gods damned much. Your waking moments were consumed with the tug and pull of what was right, a constant reeling battle that exhausted you to every extent. 

The mission aid work carried on without you – you had a competent team of friends that you trusted to continue to provide care across Spring Court. You were grateful for their passion and dedication – while your desire to help others was unreachable in those moments, and you felt completely numb to what you once had thought was your life’s calling. You despised the bond for changing you so.

You wondered of the wild Geranium, if it had been harvested yet and if Tamlin or your team had made any progress on bottling its healing pigment. 

And there was pain and guilt when you thought of Tamlin too. You had hurt him – you were malicious in your anger and said so many things you hadn't meant. You weren't angry at him, not really. Your anger lied with the Mother and your mates, and you could not fault him for not wanting to complicate relations and involve himself where he knew he shouldn’t. He was true to his word – he was open and honest with you – and you had punished him for it. 

Tamlin hadn’t sent word, and you knew he was respecting the distance you sought, perhaps even licking his own wounds. So you would start there, apologise to him, and help just one person hurt less from the recoil of your poisonous mating bond. 

You sent word to his Manor, asking him to meet you in three days time. 

————

Tamlin was at the stables, brushing down his steed when you trotted up on Podie. 

He wore his riding pants again, boots to his knees, a shirt tucked in at his tight abdomen, strong forearms moving the brush gently across the horses back. You cursed the Mother that the sight of him didn't have the same effect on you as it had a few months prior – the bond chipping away at what you had once known to desire. 

Your heart did clench at the sight of him in a sorry way, his blond hair pulled back as he worked humbly. You had missed your friend dearly, and even the Mother could not stop you from feeling that.

Tamlin turned, his face neutral as he watched you approach, neither of you speaking. Green eyes followed your dismount, and you lingered for a moment before you rushed at him, wrapping your arms at his waist and burying your face into his chest. The scent of mountain dew and fresh cut grass filled your nose – gods you had missed that.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked before sobs overtook, muffled by his clothing. 

Tamlins arms were still in the air, shocked by your approach. But he loosed a breath, bringing them to hug you, rubbing soft circles on your back. 

Relief found you then, and you melted further into his touch. A sign of truce. “I’m so so sorry Tamlin.”

“Shhh, it’s alright Y/N. It’s alright.”

You shook your head, pulling away and looking up at him. “You were only trying to help, and I was so cruel. The things I said, I–”

Tamlin shook his head gently, hushing you. “I don't understand the instincts of a mating bond, but I do know what it is to say things out of anger.”

“I didn't mean them,” you swallowed with guilt.

He smiled softly. “I know.”

You took a deep breath. “Please forgive me.”

Tamlin rolled his eyes playfully then, a smirk now on his lips. “I already had.” 

You tried to smile back, but it came out all wobbly, so Tamlin pulled you in again, swaying in a hug as he kissed the top of your head. 

After some lunch and a stroll through the gardens, he watched your carefully as you fingered the roses. 

“Do you know what you’ll do of the bond?”

You stiffened, your eyes not leaving the row of flowers before you. “No, I really don’t,” you said sadly. It was true, you hadn't a clue what to do next. 

Tamlin nodded.

After a deep sigh, you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “But I do know what I want for my life. I want to continue my mission work, expand my horizons and work across Prythian. I suppose I need to approach the other High Lords, and harvest the Geranium if you’re still willing?”

Tamlin smiled, his eyes warm as he seemed to find relief. “It’s all yours.”

You nodded, smiling back. There was relief for you too – you recognised your old self in those words. Your passion to help others was still alive and strong – and that meant the cauldron hadn’t changed you beyond recognition, and if you fought hard enough, it couldn't if it tried.

“I’m so grateful to have you in my life, Tam,” you confessed, your chest swelling with sincerity.

Tamlin raised his brows in question. 

You gave a half smile. “You make me feel… like myself. No matter the circumstance.”

Tamlin’s face softened in a way that made you wonder how long it was since he was shown a genuine kind of love – especially after what happened with Hybern.

“You are wonderfully you, Y/N, with or without my help.”

“Always the humble High Lord,” you teased, rolling your eyes. “But I would not have made it this far without you. You’re my dearest friend.”

Tamlin reached and squeezed your hand. “You’re dear to me too, Y/N.”

You squeezed back, and you swore to yourself that the bond would not interfere in this friendship ever again. 

————

6 months later

The High Lords meeting was held in Dawn, in an impressive wide cast room, marble sprawled from floor to ceiling, glassless windows arched at every wall. All seven High lords and one High Lady seated at a wide-spanning table, a cartographic map of Prythian etched within the wood. 

Fingers tingling as you shook them out, and skirts kicking at your feet, you paced anxiously on the other side of the double doors to the meeting hall.

Today was the day you would propose your mission to expand refuge aid across the whole of Prythian, asking the High Lords to consider opening their borders and contributing resources and volunteers of their own. 

Your team had worked tirelessly to get to this point – the wild Geranium was now harvested and a new batch was already seeding, and you had worked for months on your proposal, researching natural resources, writing guidance sheets on how to train volunteers, identifying what each court had to contribute and when. 

The challenge that lay ahead of you now was to appeal to spectrum of powerful leaders waiting on the other side of those doors. You knew of their egos, of the rivalry and sensitivities between courts – this was no easy task.  

“Tamlin must certainly be a terrible lover if this is how wound up he leaves you.”

You threw a scowl over your shoulder, knowing that voice and whitewood scent. 

“And what of you, Eris? Waiting for daddy to finish his meeting like the good dog you are?”

Eris gave a half grin, one that didn't reach his eyes. He strolled over, leaning against the wall as he watched you try to calm yourself, delighting in your nerves. “Speaking of dogs, I heard your mates are cooped up at Night Court, the both of them suffering from wounded hearts.”

Your bared your teeth before you could think twice. Eris knowing that both Cassian and Azriel were your mates was dangerous, but the primal snarl had escaped you for that insult alone.

Eris’s eyes danced with satisfaction. “Oh, don't go feral on me now, Y/N. From what I hear, you haven't so much a secured the bond with a fuck.”

“I will–“ your hands curled into fists as you stalked up to the male, overcome with a shaking rage. 

But Eris stayed leaning, cleaning his nails with arrogant nonchalance as he cut you off. “I suppose they’ll have to satisfy each other instead, how sad.”

Your hand was raised, ready to strike, and fire glowed in Eris’s eyes. 

“Try that, girl, and your pathetic mission turns to dust. You can forget any allegiance from Autumn, and it’s likely others will back out too.”

You faltered, your arm swaying slightly. He was right – the prick. A sounding slap was not the way to heed your proposal.

He grinned with smug satisfaction as you lowered your arm and turned away. “Such a violent response from someone who preaches to only want to help others. Perhaps you’re not the peaceful messiah you claim to be, Y/N.”

“I’ve never had a problem defending what is mine,” you threw over your shoulder. “And my aid is offered to those in need, not to arrogant princelings, or lapdogs and the likes.”

A snarl tickled at Eris’s lips, and you were glad to have landed at least one blow, be it verbal. 

“You consider those overgrown bats yours?” he asked with distaste. “So it’s true then, about the bond?”

Blinking, you played back the words that had found you so naturally. Was that how you felt? 

Chewing on your lip, you decided to ignore Eris’s question. You would think of that later – you had a meeting to focus on, and you’d be damned if either the mating bond or Eris distracted you from it. 

You didn’t have time to throw a final insult his way before Thesan pulled the double doors open, eight pairs of eyes now set on you, and Eris no where in sight. 

“Y/N, we are ready for you,” Thesan said with a soft smile. 

You gulped before straightening yourself, stepping into the room and facing the most important moment of your entire existence, whether you were ready or not.

--------

Part 6>>>

AN: SURPRISE guest appearance by Eris ;) ;) ;) Hello hello lovelies, thank you so much for your patience on this part, I know it took a while ❤️  I am so so excited to finally explore a bit of Cazriel's perspective, and get their side to the story. I hope I've done all the characters justice so far! And there's still so much to explore – I am very keen to share the next part and see how this High Lords meeting goes down (let's face it, there will be TEA). As always, I LOVE hearing your thoughts and opinions on the fic, so pretty please drop me a comment or ask anytime! Hope you're all well and are taking care of yourselves too. MWAH!  ❤️  ❤️  ❤️ 

[soft-mafia]

Jealous Boy [LA Buggy x Reader]

warnings: fem reader, oc insert, jealous Buggy, kind of possessive Buggy, making out, sexual tension, groping

a/n: Jeff Ward Buggy is literally my baby guys he’s my little scrumptious baby boy my little smoochie baby baby bear I love him so much I’m not normal. This isn’t as long as I wanted it to be but I thought it was fluffy and cute!

It wasn’t like Buggy was angry that his circus actors were thriving.

This was probably the best rehearsal time they’ve ever had; no fuck ups, no one missed their queues, sure there were a few issues with the lighting but it was just small errors. What Buggy didn’t like was how much time Y/n was spending, fluttering around with his freaks, giving them her attention instead of giving it to him.

What set him off was when he was talking to one of his performers, the snake charmer that Y/n particularly spent the most time with with(mostly because the snakes had a habit with escaping their enclosures, but Buggy chose to see it in a different light), Buggy was explaining his entrance to him, until he interrupted him.

“Oh don’t worry captain, Y/n already told me last night.”

Last night? What was Y/n doing talking to him during the night? He had to think back. She didn’t come to bed late, she woke up next to him the other morning.. when did she have time to talk to him? “What?” Buggy responded, blinking harshly for a second, looking down at the man.

The snake charmer looked up at the captain with a confused expression, “Right when we were putting away all the equipment.. before closing for the night.” He responded.

Buggy’s jaw clenched, while the man’s response did seem genuine, Buggy couldn’t help but feel an angry feeling deep inside of him. The simple thought of Y/n talking to somebody while he wasn’t there, bothered him. What else did they talk about? Was that it?

“Did she say anything else?” Buggy asked in a flat, blank tone, the kind of tone he would always use when he was about to snap. The snake charmer recognized that tone, “Uh-.. no. No captain, that was it.” He gulped. “Ok. Get out of my sight.” Buggy grunted before turning away, waving the man off as his jacket and hair swished as he turned.

“Y/N!!” Buggy shouted, storming through the ship until he found her. The girl quickly stood up from what she was doing, turning her head to look back at Buggy while holding a crate, “What?”

“Put down the box.” Buggy said, then motioned her to come to him, to which she did. He seemed angry, which wasn’t unusual, someone probably messed up a queue or something and he was here to chew her out about it, “What happened?” Y/n looked up at him, her hands in her pockets. Buggy couldn’t help but look down, looking at her hips in those low rise jeans— his crew members got to see them too, which made him even more upset. “About the snake charmer.. you were talking to him last night, weren’t you?” Buggy asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Y/n shrugged, “Yeah.. just about his entrance, why? Did he mess it up or something?”

“Is that all you talked about?” His eyes narrowed at her, his body blocked the light coming in from the doorway, which casted a shadow over her. Y/n looked up at Buggy, confused for a moment, until she realized what was wrong; he was jealous. She let her arms hang to her side as she stepped closer to him, “Captain, you don’t have to be jealous, it’s ok.” She reached her hand up to hold the side of his face before he (quite rudely) slapped it away. “I’M NOT JEALOUS!” He barked before walking past her, then turning back around to look at her again, “You’ve been spending all of your time messing with those idiots out there when I’M the one who needs your attention!!”

“Buggy you told me to help them.” Y/n crossed her arms and tilted her hip to the side. “I told you to help them!! Not-.. “buddy up” with them!!” Buggy snapped back at her, “They think they can just come to you any time they want!” He began to pace, “That they can just speak to you when I’m not around and take your time away from me!! Do you know how sneaky that is?”

Y/n stepped closer to him again and grabbed him by the shoulder, making him pause, “Buggy.” She reached her hand up to cup his stubbled jaw, gently grazing her thumb against his cheek. He looked so adorable, his brows furrowed, jaw clenched, an angry look in his eyes, “I love you, Buggy. And if it really makes you that upset, I promise to spend the entire day with you, just you.” She whispered, then got on her tippy toes to kiss him on the lips, tilting her head so she wouldn’t bump into his nose and make him even more grumpy.

Buggy groaned softly into the kiss, his hands making their way down to her hips, gloved fingers pressing into her skin. Their lips molded against each others, he sucked on her bottom lip, then her top before letting his tongue slip into her mouth. His hands moved back to rest on her ass, one hand slipping into her back pocket. “You’re mine, you know that.” He whispered into the kiss, eyes opening slightly to look at her as his other hand went up to hold her cheek.

Her chest was against his, he loved the feeling of her on his body, holding her in his strong arms. He held the back of her head, gently gripping her hair.

“I know, Captain.” Y/n whispered back at him, kissing him on his bottom lip before pulling back, she cupped his face and looked into his enchanting green eyes, then gave him another small peck on the lips.

She pulled away and walked off, “C’mon, you can help me with rehearsal so I can watch you yell at everyone!” She giggled while looking back at him. Buggy smirked and caught up with her, giving her a squeeze on the ass once he caught up to her, “I don’t yell at people.” He scoffed, then grinned and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

[angstywaifu]

The Lost Sister - Part 16

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

Garrick Tavis x OC A/N: Hope you guys are excited, we are about to start diving into Ophelia's signet! Let me know your thoughts on what you think it could be!

The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

As I dismount Mealladh after finishing flight training for the day, I hear Tairn growl. So loud to ground shakes slightly. I look up to see his eyes trained on someone. Dain. And he looks angry, more so than usual. Tairn clearly does not like the sight of him as he bares his teeth at him, saliva pooling on the ground beneath him.

Remind me to never annoy you. I say to Mealladh through the bond.

She chuckles. I will never get that angry at you unless you do something stupid. Which I highly doubt.

My bond with Mealladh was getting strong quickly. We could easily communicate with each other, shield each other out with ease. Even without having taken a single Signet Training class. So far the only one in our squad to show a signet had been Sawyer. He could control metal. Nearly took his opponents arm off in challenges when it manifested. Ridoc had told us the story over one of our meals. He thought it was the coolest thing he had ever seen. When would I get my signet? What would it be? They always said the signet represented the rider. Something about their personality or something to aid them. Something they needed. Every time I had tried to think about what it could be I came up short.

Rhiannon appears next to me as Dain slowly approaches Violet. “What do you think that’s about?”

I shake my head. “No idea. But Dain looks angry and Tairn does not look pleased about it.”

”No he does not.” We both laugh.

As it was our last class of the day we were waiting for Violet. All of us usually headed back to the dorms together before . As Tairn takes off Violet looks over to us and motions for us to leave. She had obviously agreed to talk to Dain.

”Have they talked since threshing?” I ask Rhiannon as we start to walk back down to the Quadrant, Ridoc and Sawyer not far ahead.

She shakes her head. “Don’t think so. She hasn’t mentioned if he has. And she would have.”

I nod. “That could be an interesting conversation they’re about to have then.”

”I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that one.” She adds with a smirk.

”Definitely. He says one wrong thing and she’s gonna rip into him.”

As if on queue I hear loud voices behind me. I turn my head to see they’ve barely made it a few steps and she is already angry at him. Poor boy. But he did this to himself. He’d been trying to baby her, send her to the scribes where he thought she belonged. But Violet had been thriving here despite her the limitations of her body. Hell she had bonded the strongest dragon in the Quadrant. Hell she had gotten two dragons. Something no one had ever seen before. And yet he still saw her as this poor frail girl that needed protection. I was thankful Garrick and Xaden had pretty much looked past that with me. I had made sure to prove I was not the girl they left behind in Aretia. I had grown, I had changed. I had adapted to survive. Not that I had much choice. Though I probably could have refused and ended up dead or locked in a cell. I chose the option that kept me alive. The option that got me back to my family, and as close to home that I could get.

The afternoon sun blinds me for a moment as we walk into the courtyard, busy with other riders now that classes are out for the day. I feel that familiar feeling and look over to see Xaden and Garrick leaning against the Academic Building, as if watching over their domain. Their eyes immediately meet mine.

”So what’s going on with you and Tavis?” Asks Ridoc as we stop just inside the courtyard, waiting for Violet to catch up. “Made it official yet now you’ve done the deed.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

Rhiannon groans and rolls her eyes at him. “Really? You still call sex the deed? How old are you again?”

”Hey I was just trying to be more subtle about it in case anyone was listening.” He defends with his hands raised.

”Then don’t ask in a courtyard filled with almost the entire quadrant?” I bite back a laugh at her sassy remark.

”It’s fine Rhi. But if you must know, not yet.” I tell him bluntly.

”Was-”

”And I am not telling you details.” I say as I cut him off causing Sawyer and Rhiannon to laugh at his annoyed face.

Violet storms into the courtyard, clearly not pleased after her conversation with Dain. I laugh as she looks over at Xaden and gives him the middle finger as he arches an eyebrow at her. He can probably sense her mood through the bond. His gaze flickers to Dain who walks through the archway looking sorry for himself.

”Everything all right?” Rhiannon asks as she walks up to us.

”Dain is an ass -”

”MAKE IT STOP!” Someone screams as they run down the steps at an alarming speed, holding his head between his hands as if he was in pain. Not if. He was in pain.

I don’t know his name, but I know he’s one of the first years in third wing. He sits near us in battle brief.

“For gods, sake, make it stop!” He screams again, stumbling into the courtyard.

Every rider is on alert. Hands hovering over weapons ready to attack. Mine move to the daggers on my thighs. Next to Violet I see Xaden and Garrick move forward in a defensive stance, ready to jump in at a moments notice. The riders slowly creep forward, a circle forming around him. He was manifesting his signet. And something in my gut told me it wasn’t good.

”Jeremiah!” A cadet shouts as they rush forward.

”You!” He yells as he spins towards a third year, pointing his finger at him. “You think I’ve lost it!” The way his eyes flare and the tilt of his head, I don’t blame the third year. All of us are thinking it. “How does he know? He shouldn’t know!”

That’s when it clicks. He’s inntinnsic. The one signet that means instant death. All of our thoughts are open to him. And the thought makes my blood turn cold.

”And you!” He spins around, this time to a second year. “What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he screaming?”

He spins towards Dain. “Is Violet going to hate me forever? Why can’t she see that I just want to keep her alive? How is he…? He’s reading my thoughts!”

I have to give Jeremiah some credit. He mimicked Dain’s tone almost perfectly. I look over at Violet to see she looks just as terrified as the rest of us. Xaden and Garrick step forward, shoving Ridoc aside as they move up next to Violet and I who were at the front of our group. Everyone grasps their weapons as Jeremiah unsheathes his shortsword.

”Make it stop! Can’t any of you see? The thoughts won’t stop!” He’s panicking.

”Xaden. You need to do something.” I say sternly, dagger now gripped in my right hand.

He nods before turning to Violet. “Start mentally reciting whatever bookish shit you’ve learned.”

She looks at him confused.

He looks at both of us. “If you value your secrets, clear your thoughts. Now.”

Shit. I quickly slam up my shield as hard as I can. Try to recite what ever useless information I can as well.

”And you!” My heart drops as his eyes lock onto Garrick. “Damn it all to hell. He’ll know about Are-” He barely gets his sentence out before Xaden’s shadows wrap around his mouth, silencing him.

All I can do is stare at Jeremiah. To anyone else Are could have been anything. Could have been any word. But with Xaden’s reaction, I know its not nothing. Something in my heart knows what he was about to say. He was about to say Aretia. My home. Our home. That was destroyed years ago. But why would Garrick have been thinking about it.

Something tugs in my mind. And it isn’t Mealladh. It’s as if something else is there. I focus how Melgren had taught me. I’m in the courtyard back in Aretia. My home. To my left is the throne room door, where I can see Mealladh’s red and white presence glowing around the door I’ve shut off. But at the end of the courtyard is something else. Another presence wrapped in… black shadows? Just like Jeremiah was now. Something in me is calling to pull at it, investigate. I feel my left hand twitch as if wanting to tug on it. I’m so focused on it I don’t even see the professor rush towards Jeremiah. My left hand flexes as my mind tugs on the presence in my courtyard in my head. But as I do so the professor grips his head and a crack echoes off the walls. But I hear it louder in my head as the presence disappears as well as the shadows. Everyone’s so focused on the professor and Jeremiah to notice my recoil. Everyone except for two. As I snap out of it I look over to see Xaden and Garrick staring at me wide eyed. Their eyes darting between me and the floor. Underneath my foot is a deep but short crack. One that was definitely not there before. I can tell from the slight scorch mark and power radiating from it. They go to start towards me but I push through the crowd and use my size to get away before they can get to me. Yet again I am running away as Garrick calls my name from behind me. Part 17 Tag List: @riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh @leptitlu @came-to-laugh-but-cried @onthewaytotimbuktu @daardyrnitta

[dirtybg3confessions]

Living for the increasing unhinged confession backgrounds recently. THIS BLOG IS SO FUN

Mod Bug here, Breaking the queue and a million rules for a second to just respond to this:

Thank you, i'm glad you're having fun! I've been not active here for months but right now i think i'm the only one posting (Which is fine!!! I hope the other mods will take a long, well deserved break cause i'm thriving and living my best life here right now) cause i wanna sneak as much silly content in here as i can before the others stop me whoop whoop!

Also answering another question that i saw by scrolling through the inbox: Since I literally don't have anything better to do i'm trying to make this blog part of my daily schedchule, so if all goes well the queue shouldn't be running empty as much anymore!

[sillystappen]

HELLO

i was wondering if you can do max as a singer and not a driver

i wonder if he can be MARINA and he interested in f1 and goes there to watch the races

HIHI!!!

Singer!Max huh? Ok I see you.

And mother of god did figuring the logistics of this AU hurt my brain :')

Ofc Max would retain his interest in F1 heck I might even make him kart when he was a kid but drop out for angsty lore reasons. Naturally this would make his relationship with his father very strained and almost nonexistent if it weren't for the fact Max still hasn't blocked his number. He spent most of his kid/teenage life with his mum and sister in belgium and thrived in music classes, having a natural sense of rhythm and being able to hear the layers in a song. He still watches F1 on tv and becomes a Daniel fan after Spain 2014 - Daniel's first podium, though he also is team Rosberg when brocedes happens (no reason other than I like Nico Rosberg)

As for his music type honest to god I can see why you would say MARINA as those lyrics can definitely be Max coded but genre wise and looking at her performing idk if that fits the Max vibes bc I wanna keep him from going too OOC. But not in a total stray from the idea of MARINA, I propose... Conan Gray. Still kinda indie vibes (and I love indie) and there's a lot of desiderium songs as well as full on pop bops and hopeless romantic stuff which give people some good emotional rollercoaster concerts. However these songs and albums release date will be manipulated to it my narrative because trying to align a calendar with an interesting plot and those songs just was too much...

For Daniel and any race settings, I am thinking of using the 2021 season. Which I'm sure you all are thinking: Silly, what would be the 2021 season without Max in it? Wouldn't it just go to Lewis without a fight? And I thought long and hard about it, looking through the grid and reserves to see who if anyone should take the seat that Max originally had and... it's Daniel. You heard it here first folks this baby is a Daniel never left Red Bull fic too. Using this Mr V's Garage's video, I borrowed the simulated 2021 season between Norris and Sainz and made it Lewis and Daniel (who will ofc win) with 3rd place going to Checo (because i like checo) and 4th Bottas. As for Abu Dhabi... there's no way it won't be controversial come on.

I imagine a meeting between Daniel and Max would be him getting paddock passes after saving up and ends up being recognised by Daniel at the Belgian Grand Prix. At this point he has he has had Kid Krow out for nearly 2 years after saving a crap load of money from royalties and a birthday gift from his sister he finally had enough money for a paddock pass over a grandstand ticket (but holy fuck those things are expensive). He meets Daniel who is like "holy shit you're Max Verstappen! Wearing my DR3 hat?" and Max feels like holy shit is very much correct because Daniel knows who he is?!?! Queue both of them having a fanboy moment and Daniel admitting he cried when he heard heather for the first time. But Daniel has to be pulled away so he gives Max his number and invites him to the garage (much to christian's chagrin but hey, number one golden driver championship contender privileges). Max totally nerds and Daniel thinks its cute and the mechanics are surprised by Max's knowledge.

They go on "friend-dates" to get to know each other properly and surprisingly (to them not to us) they click really well. Daniel invites him to GPs and Max invites Daniel to music video sets (they sneak Daniel into an MV and if you look close enough you can see him in the background) and a lot of trips to the recording studio. The internet being the internet picks up on this and are like AIN'T NO WAY OMG WORLDS COLLIDING all dramatic like that. There's even TikTok edits and a small tumblr community (hi) about them.

Then one day Max goes on an interview and is asked about Daniel. "He's probably the best person in my life right now, outside of work and family. Gosh, I've been a fan since 2014, and my sister will tell you I yelled pretty loudly when he won in Canada that year. But the Daniel you guys see in media is only half the story. He's kind and considerate and generous and a really comfortable person to be around and I am glad I bumped into him in Spa. He's been my rock as I work on my newest album."

Hashtag maxiel starts popping off a lot more mainstream and Daniel calls Max after the interview to tell him how sweet and lovely he is and as he gushes Daniel has the 'oh I love him' moment, like actually in love and not just a how a fan would. He doesn't say it, of course, but the penny has dropped.

For Max, the 'oh I love him' would be when they're back in Daniel's hotel room post race (that Daniel won ofc) and they're sat on a sofa in front of a quiet TV playing some sort of movie when Daniel falls asleep on Max's shoulder. Max looks down at him and just knows 'i love him' then and there. It's a quiet realisation, and one he is content with.

As for how they get together, it's one of the times Daniel is in Max's recording studio listening as Max sings, completely entrapped. When Max finishes and sits down next to him, he asks what Daniel thinks Daniel doesn't hesitate to say he thinks Max is amazing and that the song will be a hit, but suggests a few tweaks to the instrumental. Max takes this seriously and appreciates the honesty, kissing Daniel's cheek as thanks. It was the way Max looked at him and gently held his face that has Daniel sitting there for a moment before going fuck it and properly kissing Max.

They don't announce their relationship until Daniel after wins his second championship in 2022 but spend the rest of 2021 and the entirety of 2022 soft launching it and teasing. Daniel posts photos of Max hugging him in Abu Dhabi 2021 and lots of photos of them hanging out in winter and summer break. The F1 media catches Max in the paddock and Red Bull garage a lot and Daniel at the Superache tour in late 2022 (what about the tour? what tour? the early 2022 world tour? yh that didnt happen I'm just adding a couple songs from there into the superache setlist). Max also posts a video of Daniel lipsyncing to Overdrive whilst holding a deodorant can and standing on a bed.

The actual announcement spooks the F1 world more than the music one and at first it's a lot for them, the questions and the prying, the demand to know it all and of course the homophobia but they get through it all fine and dandy.

Oh and Jimmy and Sassy? They give Daniel the seal of approval the moment he shows up offering pets. And that was the only outside opinion that ever mattered.

{I may flesh this into a full on fic, but I also might not but I liked your idea anyway and wanted to put the concept I created into the world! I hope you like it.}

[crazylittlejester]

Okay so I know you said that if anyother member of the chain wound up in Forks there would likely be violence had. Except if Twi landed, because he's too excited about flannels

But I would like you to imagine Edward creeping into Twi's room in the middle of the night. But Two decided to sleep as Wolfie. how badly do you thing Edweird would freak out? Because this person he's OBSESSED with turns out to be one of the few creatures that can just straight up kill him. And he had NO IDEA

I know you said Twilight, but I wanna take this as an opportunity to be silly and yap, and here’s how I think the others would all react if it were THEM instead of Wars:

STARTING with Twi: Unfortunately he’d fucking thrive. Flannels?? Pickup truck?? Jacob and the wolves being confused by his entire existence and calling him ‘Little Wolf’ because “Why is this one tiny…?” He’d be fine. Edward tries to fuck with him? He’s got the wolves at his back and Twilight is built like a brick wall, he could throw Edward. Plus once Edward finds out he’s a wolf too, he’d back the fuck up. However I do think he’d be really stressed, his anxiety would just absolutely skyrocket, and he’d probably lean on Charlie quite a bit once he starts to trust him. The reason I didn’t pick him: He’d get along too well with the wolves and I want drama 💔

Time: He would actually lose his mind I fear. He’d be so pissed and so angry to be in the body of a 16 yo once again. Edward is definitely straight up afraid of him because he can just FEEL something radiating off of Time (though he’d still very intrigued), but Time wouldn’t be scared to just fucking tackle him for being a freak in broad daylight. (He wouldn’t be able to pick up the social queues of people flirting with him/hitting on him, but this is a STALKER situation. He’s unnerved and doesn’t feel safe, he’s not gonna wait for Edward to attack him first.) He’s exhausted, but he’s also livid at the whole scenario. He’s the “quiet new kid” but because he’s just introverted and also too furious to form a sentence. The woods could fix him, but the second any vampire or werewolf comes near him he’s losing his mind. He’d get easily overstimulated by a lot of things, which would honestly be why his anger is so explosive. He’d definitely have a breakdown in the high school bathroom on day one and then just skip school after that, he wouldn’t handle it well at all, he’d view it like being trapped in some container. He’d HATE the modern world, though I do think he’d fuck heavily with 70s/80s music if he even has the patience to discover it. The reason I didn’t pick him: Honestly? If it wasn’t Wars it WOULD be Time, because this would be hilarious as hell, Wars is just a better pick and I’ll yap about that as a last point at the end of all this

Sky: Genuinely the most likely to thrive in the school setting. He can chat casually with people, he could make a friend or two, and I mean a GOOD friend, not Jessica. He’s quiet but he’s friendly and sweet, and people GENUINELY like him. Edward is still obsessed with him but scared to fucking death because Sky is all sweet smiles, but underneath that is the boiling rage of a man who’s killed a god, and Edward may not KNOW this, but he can just feel the danger. Jacob likely wouldn’t fuck with him either, one “absolutely the fuck not” from Sky and he’s been put in his place. The reason I didn’t pick him: He’d be able to manage the whole situation a LITTLE too easily. He’d actually be able to make friends 😭

Wild: He- He’d just kill first ask questions later- Edward breaks into his room? Dead. And then that would be the end of it. I don’t know how easily he’d make friends, but he’d certainly enjoy exploring Forks. Charlie would be worried sick about him constantly because he just vanishes all the time and then comes back COVERED in mud

Hyrule: I don’t think he’d immediately jump to violence, but he wouldn’t take shit from anyone either. He’d for sure stare so intensely BACK at Edward he’d make HIM uncomfortable. Hyrule would have the ‘mysterious new boy’ charm, but I think people would write him off as weird almost immediately because he spends all his time exploring. I’m not sure Edward would be attracted to him, more so just… confused? Like he’d see him out in the woods and go “tf is this little guy doing??” and Hyrule would stare back at him with those Forest Creature eyes and scare the fuck out of him. The reason I didn’t pick him: He’d unfortunately just vibe out in the trees the ENTIRE time and he’d be so disinterested in the plot

Legend: Edward would die. Several people would die. Anyone who tries to attack him or stalk him doesn’t stand a chance

Four and Wind are both, to me at least, younger than Bella is, so it never would’ve been them. Also Wind would just ABUSE Charlie being a sheriff and scream “IM CALLING THE COPS” and then call his dad every five minutes as a ‘scare tactic’. He’d also just genuinely be so obnoxious I think he could make Edward wish he were REALLY dead. Four would hit him in the face with a fucking hammer and his head would explode and that’d be that 💔

Aside from being my favorite and therefore automatically my first pick (plus the fact that this whole au came from the Swan Wars thing) I just genuinely do think Warriors was the best one to be Bella Swan. Like he’s the one who’s going to be the quiet new kid, he’d cause the least amount of problems at the beginning, and he’d be the most likely to act like Bella. He’s not a complete pushover and he will defend himself, but also he’d be able to keep himself calm enough to not just throw himself into a fight and start shit before he has the true scope of it all. Also I needed to give him a chance to witness the american mall ALSKDMDMDMDKE