#I haven't done one of these in a while but I had the thoughts so I had lay them out.

[watermelonlovershigh]

can you please write something about reader maybe finding harry's stash of sex toys. maybe he uses them during solo play but she doesn't know about that because they're new to dating and he hasn't shared that with her because he's scared she'll judge him. but when she finds them she has a million thoughts running in her head. not knowing if they were for him or if he uses them on other people. with a cute ending of her being super cool with him using sex toys and doesn't judge him.

Finding Harry's Secret Stash of Sex Toys (SMUT)

AN: love, love, love this idea! it was fun to write. i may, key word, MAY write a part 2 to this. no promises though. keep in mind any mentions of sexuality is purely fictional and not real. hope you all enjoy and don't forget to leave your feedback.

This story contains: periods, mentions of sex toys, sex, confrontation, anxiety, comfort, mentions of sexuality, fluff

{ boyfriend!harry - softrry - au!harry - bi!harry }

word count- 1,744

While searching Harry's bathroom drawers for a period product, you discover his stash of sex toys. After waiting about a week, you confront him with all the questions you have about your discovery.

You and Harry have been together for nearly two months. During this time, you've become well-acquainted with each other; however, they're still certain things that you don't know about one another. This isn't due to any effort in hiding information, but rather because those specific matters haven't yet been relevant in any of your discussions.

------------------------------

It's a Friday night, and you're at Harry's house for the evening. He had purchased a pizza, and the two of you were comfortably seated in his living room, savoring the pizza and sipping on wine. About an hour after eating, while watching a film, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. In the bathroom, you realize your periods started and you didn't have any period products with you.

Knowing Harry is a mature adult, you promptly step out of his downstairs bathroom and make your way back to the living room to ask if he by chance had anything for you to use. Otherwise, you'll have to go to the twenty-four hour shop down the street. "Um Harry, do you have a pad or tampon I could use? I’ve just started my period and forgot to bring anything." You linger there, feeling somewhat awkward as you await his answer.

Harry turns to you and replies with a gentle smile, "Yeah, of course. You can go to my bathroom upstairs and look in one of the drawers by the sink. I generally keep period products there for when I have female visitors." God created men, and then he created Harry as an apology, you conclude. He's so fucking thoughtful.

With a sigh of relief, you respond, "Thank you. I'll be quick." You hurry up the stairs and proceed to his bathroom with urgency, fully aware that you're currently free bleeding. Upon entering, you close the door and search through the drawers of his vanity to locate the pads and tampons.

The first drawer you open is filled with floss picks and an electric razor. The second drawer holds additional rolls of toilet paper. However, as you open the third drawer, you're met with an unexpected sight that leaves you speechless. You were hoping to find something to assist your period, but instead, you come across a selection of dildos and butt plugs. When you finally open the fourth drawer, you let out a sigh of relief upon finding the items you'd been searching for.

You take a tampon out and make your way to the toilet to insert it. After you're done, you wash your hands and let your thoughts return to the drawer that's filled with sex toys. Harry has never mentioned having any of these types of items. Despite the many times you've had sex, he's never proposed the idea of incorporating sex toys into the mix. Perhaps, he uses them for his own pleasure, or he might enjoy using them on partners. But if that's the case, why hasn't he brought that idea up to you before?

You make your way out of the bathroom before Harry has time to become concerned and head downstairs to resume the movie together. Upon your return to his side, he asks, "Is everythin' alright?" You had a weird expression on your face that he couldn't quite place.

Trying to play off what you've just seen, you reply, "Yep, yeah, I'm fine. Let's finish the film."

For the remainder of the night, you don't bring up what you discovered in his bathroom drawer, but it never leaves your mind. If anything, you're just curious as to why he has those items. You would never judge his reasoning.

------------------------------

A week has passed since that evening you discovered Harry's drawer containing phallic-shaped items and butt plugs. You've been looking for the right moment to bring it up, which has now finally presented itself.

Currently, you're in Harry's bed, having sex. He's on top of you, pounding you into the mattress, while your hands rest on his perfectly round bum. As he begins to thrust more vigorously, your hands slowly slide closer to his crack, and when you accidentally graze his sensitive hole, Harry almost collapses on top of you.

Seeing how much pleasure it caused him, you do it again, this time with purpose. "Oh fuck!" Harry curses as you rub your fingers over his puckered rim.

Taking a deep breath, you bravely ask, "Yeah, does that feel good? Like having your tight hole played with?"

With his forehead resting against your neck, Harry affirms with a nod and softly murmurs, "uh-hu." He only confesses this because it's clear that you're open to touching him there; otherwise, he would've refrained from sharing such information due to his fear of being judged.

Eventually, you get lost in your own pleasure and forget about touching his bum. That is, until you're laid lax on the bed, muscles weak from your orgasm, with Harry laying on top of you. As you both try and catch your breaths, you bite the bullet and ask the question that's been on your mind all week.

"So.... does those toys you have in your bathroom drawer have anything to do with you liking your ass played with?" You really hope your question doesn't come off as rude or too invasive. You're genuinely curious.

Harry's body goes rigid at your question. Then he sits up slightly, looking down at you with confusion. "What?"

With a hint of anxiety in your voice, you explain, "Um, it's just, the other night, while I was looking for a tampon in your bathroom, I opened the wrong drawer and discovered several dildos and butt plugs. I was just wondering whether those items were for your personal use or you use them on other people. But just so you know, I'm not judging you in any way, just curious is all."

Harry falls back down and buries his face in your warm skin, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over him at your accidental discovery of his sex toys. He usually stores them in his closet, but after cleaning them the other day, he had set them in the drawer to dry.

In truth, Harry does enjoy anal play. Ever since he began puberty and started to explore his body, he discovered the pleasurable sensations that can come from anal stimulation. A few years later, he recognized his bisexuality, which, although not directly connected to his enjoyment of anal play, is certainly a positive in the situation.

Unfortunately, he's only had a handful of male partners. Therefore, when he's not able to experience penetration from a real cock, he frequently utilizes one of the dildos he's purchased for himself.

When he was with women, Harry typically didn't mention his liking for having his ass played with, out of concern for being judged. There were a few instances in the past where they'd end up finding out, leading to a mix of reactions—some supportive and others quite judgmental. So, he opted to keep that aspect of himself hidden and relied on his toys for when he craved anal.

Now that you're aware of his secret, he's filled with dread at the thought of your rejection. Yet, he reckons that if you willingly touched his bum during sex, that implies you're not completely against it.

With his warm breath against your neck, Harry reveals, "Um..... yes, they're mine. When I was a teenager, I realized I enjoyed havin' my bum touched. I usually keep it to myself 'cause I've been judged for it before. So....... that's why I tend to use my toys when I am alone. Sorry for not tellin' you."

The quiver in his voice stirs a sadness within you. Him revealing his anxiety about your potential judgment and the criticisms he's endured in the past breaks your heart. You tenderly hold his face and elevate his chin so he can meet your eyes. "Harry, sweetheart, I would never think less of you for liking that. I suspect many men would enjoy anal if they gave it a chance."

You take a deep breath and continue, "I do have a question, though." Harry nods for you to go ahead, so you proceed to ask, "Have you ever used your toys with your girlfriends before? Like, have they used them on you?" If he's open to the idea, you would definitely be eager to make use of his toys on him. The image of fucking him anally with one of his dildos arouses you more than you care to admit.

"There've been one or two times I shared my likin' of anal with ex's who were particularly kind and acceptin', which I appreciated. But in most cases, my partners didn't last long enough after discoverin' my interest in anal play to allow the use of toys during sex. S'also why I keep my sexuality a secret. 'Cause people can be so judgemental."

"Sexuality?" you question cautiously, allowing Harry to explain at his own pace.

"Um yeah, think I was sixteen when I realized I liked boys and girls. So I reckon m' bisexual. But I've only had two male partners. S'why I have so many toys. But I wouldn't say my sexuality has anythin' to do with my likin' for anal, just a bonus I suppose."

You hold Harry tightly in your arms, hoping to express your appreciation for his courage in confiding in you. It's clear that he feels a sense of safety in doing so.

You become aware of his current vulnerability; he's still without clothes, his soft cock positioned between your legs, your bare body surrounding him. The love you feel for Harry is so big that you struggle to find the right words. You also refrain from voicing it aloud out of fear that it may be too early in your relationship to utter such sentiments. So instead, you mummer against his ear, "Thank you for telling me, Harry."

He's on the verge of tears due to your exceptional acceptance. Harry has long struggled to find a girlfriend who fully acknowledges his sexuality and kinks. In his past relationships with boyfriends, he was often judged for his enjoyment of hetero sex, while his experiences with girlfriends led to criticism for his interest in gay sex. This constant judgment made him feel as though he could never succeed in love. However, with you by his side, there's a chance that you'll offer him the love and acceptance that he's been longing for.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

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My Masterlist Masterpost

[prythiansprincess]

CHAPTER THREE

home | chapters | playlist

🤎 pairing: azriel x reader.

🤎 song inspiration: black out days by phantogram.

🤎 author’s note: happy monday! I hope you all enjoy x

The night before journeying to the Autumn Court, Rhys asked you to meet him at the House of Wind. You were halfway through packing when a knock at the door interrupted your progress. It wasn’t much of a process since your definition of the act consisted of haphazardly throwing the bare essentials into a small rucksack. 

Turning your attention to the door, you lifted the wards and beckoned the familiar figure inside. Azriel’s dark hair obscured the setting sun as he stood in the doorway. Since you weren’t keen on making the trek up the ten thousand steps at the House, the High Lord sent the shadowsinger to fetch you. Neither one of you were happy about the arrangement, but you figured that you might as well get used to it since you’d be spending the next month together.

“Are you just going to stand there?” you asked while shoving a heavy cloak into your bag in preparation for the chilly nights at the Autumn Court. 

The shadowsinger said nothing as he crossed over the threshold to take in the contents of your flat. It was strange to see him inside of your home. In all the years you’ve known him, Azriel had never set foot in your flat. Since you usually met up with the others at either the House of Wind or the River House, there had never been any reason for the shadowsinger to visit your dwelling. Now that he was standing in the middle of your living room, you could see how empty and unwelcoming the space may seem from his perspective. 

The place was hardly furnished and it lacked the warmth of a personal touch. You were away on assignment more often than not so you hadn’t really bothered to decorate. Since your days of exile, the habit of only keeping the absolute necessities remained as a holdover from experiencing life on the run. All you really needed was a working bath, a semi-decent bed, and a kitchen to cook in when the mood struck. 

“Is that all you’re bringing?” Azriel asked through the open door of your bedroom. 

Just like the rest of your flat, the room was bare and empty. There was a bed and a dresser, but if it weren’t for the growing stack of books piled high on your nightstand, no one would suspect that anyone even lived here. 

“I like to pack light,” you replied defensively. “There’s no need to bring anything unnecessary.”

“That much is clear,” Azriel muttered under his breath. He inspected the velvet couch in your living room, which was still in pristine condition. “It looks like you just moved in. Haven't you owned this place for years?”

You rolled your eyes in response. For some reason, the comment brushed you the wrong way. Though you supposed that was nothing new when it came to Azriel. 

“My apologies, shadowsinger. Are my interior design capabilities not up to your standards?”

The sarcasm flew over Azriel’s head as he scanned the walls, frowning when he found it devoid of decorations. “It just seems a little barren.”

“It’s a flat, not a palace.” You replied rather sharply. “As long as I have a place to sleep, that’s good enough for me.” 

Azriel tutted in disapproval before he weaved his way into the kitchen. You tracked him underneath the archway, his wings tucked tightly behind his back as he picked up the one sentimental item in your possession. 

In his hands, the shadowsinger held an enchanted painting of you, Rhys, and Serena. Your friend was smiling with her wings spread proudly while both her and Rhys sandwiched you in between them. In the center, you tipped your head back in laughter. You thought you saw the ghost of a smile forming on Azriel’s lips before you snatched the keepsake out of his hands. 

“Don’t touch that,” you reprimanded. “Do me a favor and stop snooping. I’m almost done packing.”

As carefully as you could manage, you set the painting back to its rightful place and ignored the gaze burning into your side. You could practically hear the onslaught of questions that the shadowsinger was dying to ask as you surveyed Serena’s smile. It was that same smile that had saved you all those years ago.

After you left the Autumn Court, you were forced to roam through Prythian alone. At first, you were able to scrape by working odd jobs as a barmaid or innkeeper, but with the war waging through the courts, the opportunities dwindled down to nothing. 

Driven by desperation, you found yourself foraging for food near the Night Court’s war camps. You came across their supplies and rationalized that they wouldn’t miss an apple or two. You’ve always been quick and stealthy, but Serena had the advantage of her wings. She spotted you almost immediately, but instead of turning you over to her father, Serena took you to her mother and brother. With Rhysand’s help, they offered you a place in the camps. A refuge from your exiled existence. 

With Rhys and Serena, you weren’t a Thorne. You weren’t a young acolyte fleeing from her future as the Autumn Court’s next High Priestess. You weren’t the weapon that Beron honed you into. 

You were just you. 

You found family in Rhys and Serena. You confided in both of them. You trusted them with the secrets of your past. For a time, the three of you had been inseparable. Then Serena died and the loss of your friend hardened you in a way that couldn’t be undone. Her death solidified what you’ve known all along — everything you touched turned to smoke and ash.

You looked at that smile again, wondering what your friend would say if she knew you were returning to the Forest House. She probably would have insisted on coming along. 

Serena was the only one who knew the full extent of the horrors you escaped. The cruelty of the Autumn Court. The familial ties that hounded you. The blood of the fox that took and took until you had nothing left. 

You dreaded going back to that wretched place. And yet, the darkness within you, the rage and fury coursing through your veins whispered home, home, home.

When you looked up, you met the shadowsinger’s gaze. There was something brewing within him, though his expression appeared as cold and stoic as it always was. But there — a sharpness in his eyes that strangely resembled recognition. Perturbed by its implication, you broke eye contact. 

Azriel regarded you warily as he moved towards the couch. If he noticed that you had momentarily lost yourself in thought, he made no mention of it. The shadowsinger plopped down on the cushions and stretched his long legs atop your coffee table. Shadows peered over his shoulders as though they too were passing judgment on the utter lack of decoration in your flat. 

You cleared your throat and marched back into your room to resume packing. If anything, you were just glad to have a door between you and Azriel. 

“We should leave before the sun rises. I can winnow us to the edge of the Winter Court, but we’ll have to fly the rest of the way.”

You rifled through your wardrobe, throwing in a few dresses for good measure before slipping out of the smock you were wearing in exchange for something thicker. You needed to layer if you hoped to survive the flight through Kallias and Viviane’s borders.

“Did Rhys tell you where Beron intends to house us?”

A beat of silence passed. You glanced over your shoulder and realized that the bedroom door was cracked open just enough to give Azriel a glimpse of your bare back. You could feel him staring at the giant wings etched upon your skin — a tribute for the ones that Serena lost.

You slammed the door shut, causing Azriel to flinch. After pulling on a sweater, you emerged from the room just as the shadowsinger cleared his throat and picked up the conversation as though you hadn't just caught him staring at you. 

“At one of his properties near the Forest House. He’s welcoming us into his borders, but keeping us well away from his home until the Blood Moon.”

You frowned. "That's strange," you murmured under your breath. The Beron you knew was a strong believer in keeping his friends close, but his enemies closer. If he was choosing to house you away from the Forest House, then he truly must be hiding something. "I would've thought that Beron would prefer to keep us under constant watch. My uncle is as paranoid as they come.”

“With good reason,” Azriel added with a slight smirk, “Look who he’s letting into his territory.”

That brightened your mood a notch. You couldn’t wait to rob the bloody bastard blind. 

“Fair point,“ you admitted. “Well if you’re done being a busybody, we should head out. Rhys is expecting me.”

As always, Azriel flew in complete silence. You looped your arms around his neck and shut your eyes. Flying was something you had always dreaded and it didn’t help that the shadowsinger dipped and flipped without warning. Those lethal wings of his beat against his back and plummeted you into the air while the wind whipped your scarlet hair into your eyes. 

Despite your tight grip, Azriel carried you in his arms with ease while simultaneously maintaining a considerable amount of distance between you. Gods forbid if Azriel held anyone closer than arms-length. It seemed fitting, given the nature of your relationship. 

Despite being in the same circle of friends, you and Azriel had never really gotten along. On a good day, you might be persuaded to tolerate each other for a limited amount of time and that was only if one of you managed to keep the hostility to the bare minimum. Rhys liked to say that mutual stubbornness was the cause of the clash, but in reality, something about Azriel has always unnerved you. 

What he lacked in words, he more than made up for with astute observation. Even without the help of his shadows, Azriel was extremely perceptive. He picked up on things most people wouldn’t notice. For someone who spent her entire life not wanting to be seen or known, the shadowsinger’s attentiveness was perturbing. 

You could feel his scrutinizing gaze on you even now as he examined the expression on your face with calculated caution. You tilted your chin up and stared right back into those hazel eyes of his. 

“What?” you challenged. “Do I have something on my face?” 

Azriel ignored the question and jumped straight to the point. There was no beating around the bush with the shadowsinger. “The tattoo on your back. They’re Serena’s wings, aren’t they?” 

Everything within you stilled. You stiffened in Azriel’s arms and looked away from him, which was a mistake in itself since there was nothing but the terrifying open sky to be seen from this height. You couldn’t tell whether it was your fear of flying or the subject of your friend that suddenly caused your chest to tighten. 

You never really talked about Serena with anyone other than Rhys. A part of you knew you should, at least to keep her memory alive, but it still hurt to speak of your late friend even to this day. It would never stop hurting. 

“So you were watching me undress,” you accused, shifting the topic of conversation. “Can’t say I’m surprised that you’re into voyeurism.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “It’s pretty hard to miss,” the shadowsinger said with a shrug. He paused as his gaze slid over to you once more. Softly, he added, “I’d almost forgotten how beautiful they were. How beautiful she was.”

Your heart twisted in your chest. Sometimes you forgot that Serena had been his friend just as much as she was yours. The shadowsinger had served Rhysand’s father for years and lived under the same roof as her. She always considered Azriel and Cassian as her brothers and she used to tease you endlessly about your rivalry with Azriel. 

The line between love and hate is thinner than you think, your friend would state with a knowing smile. No matter how much you tried to convince her otherwise. Once Serena set her mind on something, there was no talking her out of it. 

While Serena was right most of the time, she couldn’t have been more wrong about you and Azriel. There was nothing between you but hostility and disdain. The only thing you had in common was your friendship with her. It seemed rather odd to you that the two of you could love the same person, but hate one another. 

With a forlorn expression, Azriel set you down on the balcony of the House of Wind. “It looks good on you,” he declared softly. 

You stared at each other for a moment before you cleared your throat and broke off the intense eye contact. 

“I should go. Rhys is waiting for me,” you said. Azriel nodded in confirmation. “I’ll see you at dawn, then.”

“I have to reconvene with my contacts in Rask to make sure things are in order during my absence, but I’ll be back before we’re due to depart.”

You involuntarily flinched at the mention of one of the most powerful kingdoms in the Continent. A kingdom who allied with Hybern. 

Azriel noted the reaction. “Try not to miss me too much, princess. I’ll be back before you know it.”

The shadowsinger grinned as you rolled your eyes at the comment. Not bothering to respond, you spun on your heel and threw Azriel a vulgar gesture over your shoulder. 

As you ascended the stairs, his dark laughter followed after you like a shadow.

The bloodstone hanging between your shoulder blades gleamed as you tugged on the chain absentmindedly, your focus shifting in and out as Rhysand’s voice floated through the room. His tone took on the form of a question and snapped you back to the present. 

Am I boring you? Rhys asked as he prodded through your mental shields. You frowned in response and clamped down the ruby gates within your mind.

The High Lord winced as you flashed him a feral smile. “You were saying?”

For the past hour, Rhys had drilled you on the plan until you were certain that you could recite the entire thing in your sleep. First, you were to winnow to the Winter Court. After that, Azriel would fly the rest of the way to the borders of the Autumn Court where you would both meet Beron’s welcoming party at the designated spot. From there, you’d be taken to the Forest House and formally presented to the High Lord. 

“How are you faring with all of this?” 

“Fine,” was your customary response. Rhysand raised a knowing brow. This wasn’t just an ordinary mission and you both knew it. “I can handle it.”

“I know you can,” your friend said with a tinge of worry. “But asking you to go back to that place is not something I take lightly. I wouldn’t have brought this to you if I hadn’t already exhausted all our other options.”

Violet eyes met yours and your demeanor softened. Rhysand rarely asked anything of you. Most of the time, you were the one volunteering to go on dangerous missions, much to his apprehension. 

“I know and I appreciate it.” You offered your friend a reassuring smile. “But you don’t have to worry about me, Rhys.” 

“I do so regardless.” He gazed through the glass window panes with a wistful expression. “You know, she would kick my ass if she knew what I was asking you to do.”

Rhysand didn’t have to say her name. You both knew he was speaking of Serena. 

You chuckled. “Knowing her, she would probably have insisted on coming with me.” A smile bloomed on your lips at the thought. “It would’ve been a sight, wouldn’t it? I’d pay to see her lay into Beron.”

You exchanged a forlorn glance. Both of you would have paid all the damn gold in the Night Court’s coffers to see Serena do anything again. 

“For her sake and mine, please be careful.” Your friend said in a serious tone. “I know you’re not thrilled to have Azriel accompanying you, but you will need each other.”

“I highly doubt that,” you muttered under your breath. 

Rhysand gave you a look of disapproval and you responded with a dramatic eye roll, throwing your hands up in surrender. “Fine, I suppose I can tolerate the overgrown bat for a few days. At the very least, the shadowsinger can tether me if things get out of hand.”

At the mention of tethering, Rhys blanched. You knew that you probably shouldn’t joke about such things. Unleashing your true form was dangerous enough, but setting your power loose in the Forest House meant that someone would have to snap the thread in case your flames gained control over you rather than the other way around. 

You had only ever come close to being tethered once, after Serena’s death. You lost control that day, drowning the bog of Oorid in smoke and ash while you raged to taste the blood of the Spring Court lord and his sons. It took Rhysand nearly half his strength to break into your mind and render you unconscious, which effectively broke the connection and stopped you from laying waste to the desolate swamp.

If Rhys had been unsuccessful, the only alternative was to shatter the thread which would have killed you in the process.

“I’m joking, Rhys. It won’t come to that.” He ran a hand over his face, clearly exhausted from his duties. It probably wasn’t wise to add onto his extensive list of worries. “I’ll be careful.” 

He sighed in relief. “Are you and Azriel set to depart tomorrow?” 

You nodded in confirmation. “Yes, he said he’d be returning from Rask before dawn.” Your gaze shifted to your friend. “Trouble in the Continent?” 

“Quite the contrary. It seems congratulations are in order. The King of Rask plans on crowning his heir.” 

“May the gods be with the young prince.” The declaration filled you with dread and tasted like ash in your mouth. “With Xilas as a father, Cauldron knows the boy will need it.”

“The King is a nasty piece of work.” Rhys said in agreement. You didn’t miss the sidelong glance he cast your way. “He hasn’t tried to reach out to you, has he?” 

You scoffed. “His Royal Highness has no interest in his illegitimate offspring. Xilas made that very clear the day he left my mother.” 

“I’m sorry to even bring it up. I just wondered. The coronation may be in the works, but rumor has it that the young prince did not inherit his father’s powers.” 

The pointed look Rhys sent your way was deflected by a nonchalant shrug. “Regardless, he is the heir to the throne. The only heir,” you added with a tone of finality. 

The High Lord nodded slowly, but kept his gaze leveled on you. “Do the others know? About the King?” 

Rhys shook his head. “It’s not my story to tell. If and when you are ready to tell them, I will support you.” 

The day would likely never come. You were content on being known for who you are now, not for some meaningless title passed down from a father who couldn’t even be bothered to care about your existence. 

“Thank you, Rhys.” You nodded towards the darkening horizon outside. “If that’s all, I’m going to turn in early.  Give Feyre and Nyx my regards. I heard the little Illyrian is teething, so you should probably relieve my High Lady soon.” 

Rhys chuckled. “You have no idea. She’s calling in reinforcements as we speak.” 

You grinned. “Don’t let me hold you up, then.” 

You and Rhysand exchanged goodbyes with the High Lord ruffling your hair and making you promise to be careful just like he did back when you and Serena used to sneak out and get into all sorts of mischief in the city.

You paused in the doorway. “Do you ever talk about her? With Feyre or any of the others? With Nyx?” 

Rhys looked at you for a long time, stars winking in his eyes. “No, but I should.” 

He turned to meet your gaze. “We both should.” 

The High Lord of the Night Court found himself in the heart of the Western Isles. 

Despite his desire to return home to his High Lady and their teething toddler, Rhysand had urgent business to attend to first. 

He watched as the waves of the pewter sea crashed violently against the brutal cliffs of the rocky mountain island. Above the misty peak, the Prison stood menacingly against the dreary backdrop. 

“I’m aware that you have a reputation to uphold, but this is a bit overkill, don’t you think?” 

A flash of scarlet glimmered in the High Lord’s periphery. Rhysand remained silent and stoic as stone while Eris Vanserra slid into place beside him. 

“Always a pleasure, Eris.” 

The Autumn Court male snorted. “I may not be a daemati, but being a Vanserra has made me an expert in spotting insincerity and you’d rival my father in your capacity for drivel.” Rhys almost smiled at that. “Why are we here, Rhysand?” 

“Is everything according to plan?” 

“Would I be here if it wasn’t?” The High Lord leveled a hard stare at the redhead and Eris sighed in response. “Beron has ensured safe entry for my dear cousin and the shadowsinger. After all, Autumn Court law requires him to honor the rite. My father would not dare trample the traditions of our land.” 

The tension lifted from Rhysand’s shoulders. As much as he detested placing his trust in Beron, he knew the male would not be foolish enough to break the customs of his ancestors. Violating the ancient rite was punishable by death. No one was exempt from the provision — not even a High Lord.

It was the only way Rhysand could protect Y/N. Though it didn’t fully alleviate his worries, it at least provided him some sort of assurance. 

“And Xilas?” 

It was the Autumn lordling’s turn to frown. “I have stalled his correspondences for the meantime, but it’s only a matter of time before he makes contact with my father.” Cunning eyes scanned the gloomy horizon and a flash of brooding marred the eldest Vanserra’s fox-like features. “Does she know about the coronation?”

Rhysand nodded. “She’s aware. I tried to broach the subject, but she has made it clear on multiple occasions that she’s not interested in the affairs of the kingdom.”

“Be that as it may, but the kingdom is interested in her.” 

“She’s been through enough.”

“And yet you’re sending her back into the Autumn Court blindly,” Eris said with a hint of bitterness. “This arrangement may protect her from Beron, but she cannot avoid the matter of her birthright forever. Perhaps it would be best to inform my dear cousin of the plan.”

“You lost the right to claim her as family the minute you allowed her to wander through Prythian starving and alone,” Rhys snapped. “I am doing what you failed to do centuries ago. I’m protecting her.”

Ire flashed behind that burning gaze. Eris seemed inclined to argue, but thought better of it and settled for a sneer instead. “Awfully convenient that I’m the one who will bear the brunt of her wrath once she finds out about your twisted little plan of protection. She will be furious with your deception. As will the shadowsinger.”

“Azriel will do what is necessary.”

In that, he had no doubt. As much as he hated keeping both of you in the dark, he knew it was the only option. Azriel would be angry, but his brother would understand. He just hoped that Y/N would too. 

“You may judge my methods, but all that I do, I do for the sake of my loved ones. That is what we do in the Night Court. We protect our families.”

“Grand and noble Rhysand,” Eris sneered. “Has it ever occurred to you that you’re not the only one with a family to protect?” Rhysand faltered at that. 

The High Lord examined the eldest Vanserra — the heir of the Autumn Court who possessed deadly wit and an even more lethal hand. Rhys could see the poised, pompous, and arrogant male who pranced about Prythian as though the realm owed him a great debt for merely existing, but underneath that carefully crafted exterior, he thought he was a glimpse of Eris. 

The male who had risked his life to ally with the Night Court, to rebel against his father, to protect his mother, to keep his brothers in line, to rally the troops of the Autumn Court during their fight with Hybern. Rhysand thought that maybe, maybe, they weren’t as different as he had always led himself to believe. 

But that glimpse had only been afforded to him momentarily. Once again, the cool mask of Eris Vanserra clicked into place as his amber eyes hardened on the horizon. 

“The next month will be eventful to say the least,” Eris conceded with a sigh. “But I suppose it isn’t a Vanserra family reunion without lies, schemes, and betrayal. At least my cousin’s arrival will rouse some drama and intrigue in the fox’s den. I dare say it’s gotten a bit dull with only the threat of death gods and war.”

Rhysand’s lips curled a little at that. The Autumn lordling sighed. “Are you sure keeping this from them is the best idea?” 

“It’s safer if they don’t know,” he replied. “Not yet, anyways.”

“She will be furious,” Eris whispered. He didn’t have to say the words that Rhys had spent pondering during the past few weeks. 

She will never forgive you.

The High Lord knew that Eris, of all people, understood what that felt like. 

“Better angry and safe than informed and dead.” The High Lord repeated the phrase almost mechanically, the words falling seamlessly from his lips as he recited them over and over again to himself, though it did nothing alleviate the worry and fear he felt. “She’ll understand. She always does.”

The words caught in his throat. You would be furious with him, Rhys knew that. But it was a risk he was willing to take if it meant keeping you safe. 

I will not lose another sister. 

Rhys had meant what he said. This plan had to work. It had to, because he didn’t know what he would do if it didn’t. 

Right now, standing on the rocky shores of the Western Isles, it wasn’t the High Lord who slipped his trembling hands into the pockets of his tailored trousers. 

It was a brother who prayed that his sister would forgive him for what he was about to do.

TAGLIST

@fuckingsimp4azriel @onebadassunicorn-blog @acourtofbatboydreams @marina468

[fookinhellcurlyy]

Louis Tomlinson's Career History Pt. 1 and 2 [Post-1D] by notastrwbrysng2

Full credits to notastrwbrysng2 from X/Twitter. Reposting screenshots and texts for archiving purposes.

While I haven't done my own personal deep dive on this topic, I think this particular thread is a very informative and transparent (backed with public articles) + beginner-friendly. Not sure if this has already been shared here before but I thought I'll make this archive post anyway.

I also saw this anon of @twopoppies asking about H & L's solo careers after 1D's hiatus, so this feels like perfect timing to share it here.

I know @hoovesandfloorpaws is also doing a separate big business/industry research soon, so this introductory thread (for Louis, at least) could be a good starting point while waiting.

Note: I will copy-paste the exact texts from the tweets. The words after the cut below are from the linked thread (source). The cited articles per tweet are hyperlinked ('x'). I might replace/combine some screenshots due to Tumblr's limitations, as well as add the links from where they were originally taken.

Again, thank you so much notastrwbrysng2 (Megs) for creating this.

———

Part 1: The "missing years" not shown in AOTV

Notice how we didn't get years 2016-early 2019 in AOTV? | x

Questions I wonder about.. Louis as first signed to RCA. THEN it was announced sometime later that he switched to Epic. What happened with the label switch here? | x

"It had previously been reported that Tomlinson would end up at RCA, but when Epic Records president Sylvia Rhone heard Tomlinson’s music — in particular the song “Back To You” featuring Bebe Rexha — she campaigned for the project." Okay, okay..

It sounded at this point like Louis was on track, had songs written, had songs recorded.. Did a charity single in 2017, Just Like You cane out as a single ep.. He chatted in Nov 2017 about releasing an album and touring in 2018! Perfect, right?

....except there were crickets the first half of 2018.

January brought Louis roasting Coachellas 2018 lineup.. Towards the end of Jan, an Ask anything video.. | x

February, he teased Habit lyrics.. we have a photo of him recording All Along... And not much else..

March, The "Miss You" singer won the Best Solo Breakout award, beating out Camila Cabello, and his former One Direction bandmates, Harry Styles, Niall Horan and Liam Payne. Oh, so 4 or 5 of them were on the radio simultaneously... | x

April, another Hey, still working on the album…

And May…he left James Grant management.

Synopsis of rest of the year: (X-Factor, a couple awards, signing with WMA). Louis and Dalton Harris stuck it to cowbell and won the season.

2019 rolls around.. Two of Us promo starts and halts in March for a few weeks due to the passing of Fizzy. Louis took some time off (as to be expected) to be with family.

As of this point, Louis had released: Dec 2016: Just Hold On (not backed by an album) 2017: Back To You (no album) 2017: Miss You (no album) 2017: Just Like You (Non-album promo single) 2018: nothing! 2019: Two of Us (unattached at the time)

Yet another label change Feb 2019 now a move to Arista… STILL under S*co/S*ny.

So, 3 years in and NO completed album still? The other unattached but soon to be on the next album Walls were: KMM, We Made It, and DLIBYH with zero promotion, just a director's cut MVs that mirror much of the story Papillon.

Finally, Walls is out in 2020 with it's 4th and final single, and very little promotion.

Flash forward to concerns in 2022/2023 of the same issue: Absolutely NO airplay in his home city and surrounding areas, very little marketing in the US.

(Not much can be found about 2016.)

Coming up next: Exploring WHY Louis has hit roadblocks and how everyone is interconnected

—

Part 2: Louis' Role in 1D thru 2016

I highlighted Louis' slow moving career that started with self released singles, two label pickups (one seeming promising!), a bunch of crickets, and some movement again in 2018. To understand what was going on, we have to go back to when the band was first created. This sounds silly, yes, but it is connections that keep continuing to recur this entire time.

First, let's discuss the US market. They did not have any active boybands and record labels saw an opportunity in Brit boybands.

Leading up to January 2020, plans were put into place and discussed by Sony how to cultivate a boyband. Hottest thing in the UK was TXF. Build a boyband, sign them at their first audition in March 2010. This is a crucial link to the UK side of what will occur later on. | x

Louis & Harry both have contract dates March 26, the same day as their initial auditions. The ones on TV are their 3rd/4th. The band was set up ahead of time and played out on the cameras. During their time in the house, Lou is The Leader by week 2 (:50 in).

To reiterate AOTV, Louis has the least amount of vocals, virtually no solos until Midnight Memories. His songwriting skills were a huge asset (after "pissing off a lot of people," according to Savan Kotecha). Savan later told Rolling Stone that LOUIS led their sound forward.

Songwriting, then suddenly music management (NOTE DATE!) became Louis's role. SC began to groom Louis, who consistently fought for the boys behind the scenes, to be his "protege" of sorts and steered him away from a future solo career as early as 2014 and was "given*" an imprint

As we all know, as Louis talked about, the label did not move forward due to micromanagement by SC and S*NY. | x

At this juncture, Louis is now done with the band as of December 2015. He does not have anything lined up but is being courted by.. S*ny head Rob Str*nger. As the article in the OP explains, they wanted him for songwriting &/or music mngmt Louis at...an industry party?

Part 3 & 4 here.

[alkalineapparition]

Jaws

Simon Ghost Riley x Hybrid!Reader|Full Chapter

Part 12– Basking in the solace of regret

"RIPPER, NO!"

This is the moment that will stay with Simon for the rest of his life. Someday, when he's watching his mistakes play in frantic strokes of color on the canvas of his eyelids, this is what will haunt him most.

You, for all your ferocity, gift him one last look. Soft, apologetic. No intention of heeding his command. When he reaches for the handle on the back of your vest, you slip through his fingers like water. Gone.

Just. Like. That.

You'd both been pinned for a while now. The others were farther behind, providing rear security so you could retrieve what they came for. They hadn't known, couldn't see past the smoke clouding your positions. And he hadn't had the time to tell them, between returning fire and holding position, before a close call shot his comms to shit. He hadn't had the time...

He should have made the time.

And now there would never be more time. The clock had stuck twelve, the hour glass run out of sand.

Because you had decided your life mattered less than his. Mattered less than the mission. Goddammit.

He no can no longer see you, he's lost sight and all he can think is how he'd rather become dust and smoke himself than come home without you.

Leaning back against the small outcrop of rocks you'd been taking cover behind, his eyes close. Then, he does something he hasn't done since he was a child.

He prays.

He prays to the bastard that's never bothered giving an answer before. Teeth gritting down to the nub, he wills the asshole to hear him.

Bring her back to me.

In this moment, Ghost hates himself. He's never been more useless—he can't just charge in after you, the lack of vision would make it suicide. Perhaps you'd been able to see what he couldn't. But then why did you go alone, if not to save him from whatever it is you saw? If he got up and charged after you now, would he find you grinning in triumph, or be faced with a wall of enemy soldiers riddling his body with bullets?

Some fucking leuitenant, huh?

As if he could summon you by mere thought, his mind drifts, one final goodbye.

—

You stand before him, head cocked, mouth curled in mischief. His skullplate sits on the desk after having gone missing for a few days (during which you swear you haven't seen it, of course not Lt!), now doodled with little pink ghosts. "Y' little shit." His hand snaps foward to snatch your collar, but you duck, snickering as you make for the door. [It washes off Lt! No, please! Uncle, uncle!]

—

[Ghost.]

"Hm?"

[Why do you wear the mask?]

He looks up, watching your face as you gnaw your lip. His tug up in a smirk. "To hide my face."

[Are you ugly?] The bluntness of your question almost makes him laugh. [It's alright if you are.] Sweet girl.

"Quite the opposite, love."

Something in his stomach flips at the sight of your face going red.

[Oh.]

He can't resist. "No' as pretty as yours, mind you."

You sputter as expected, and he does laugh.

[What do you look like?]

He pretends to think it over.

"Got a tattoo of the queens arse on m' left cheek," he says solemnly.

You choke, eyeing him and his inked arms speculatively before deciding he's full of shit.

He lets you believe what you will.

—

The dove-grey light of Sunday mornings filters through the blinds. Your eyes are filled with tears, body trembling with the force of your sobs. Simon wraps his arms around you, cheek pressed to your hair.

[I don't even have a name. I am nothing, it's like I don't exist.] He closes his eyes, searching for the words that will soothe this ache.

"Your name's Ripper. Ya ain't nothin', either. You're our best girl." It's the best he can do, offer placations, even if they are true. He hates that he can't do more.

[That's a not a name, Ghost, it's a callsign! I don't... I don't even know what my mother named me.] You're still for a few moments. [I... don't know if I have a mother.]  Simon rattles his brain for a way to make this right, something that can be a salve to your pain.

"How about... I give ya a real name? Somethin' other than what that bloody scot came up with." He doesn't think this will be enough, it's a stupid idea–

[What... would you name me?] Your eyes are on him, curiosity shining through the tears. Seems it was enough to distract you, for now atleast.

Humming, he contemplates. "I'll find somethin' that fits. Wait for inspiration an' all that."

[How will you know it's right?]

"I'll know, Rips. Promise."

—

Simon never did pick out that name.

He wonders what they'll put on your headstone.

[writinglionqueen]

How's Your Head

It hurt.

Goddamn did it hurt.

Your head was pounding as the crew rush you backstage after receiving a nasty bump from your match. Your ears were ringing and the lights were starting to look like a kaleidoscope with every uneven step.

Of course you would receive such a bump during your match; hitting your head on one of the ring posts. It almost knocked you out but the hot feeling of blood running down your head kept you in until you got the win. But it wasn't long until the crew come down to get you out of the ring. They were quick to rush you to the medical room so they could inspect your condition there.

And not far behind you and the crew, you knew Drew was there. He had watched your match backstage like he always did. So, he had watched as you hit your head and everything. He was probably worried out of his mind for you, given the nature of the relationship you and him head. And you had faintly heard his voice through the crew's utterings of what to do when they got you to the room. You couldn't pay him any mind as one of the medical personnel looked at your head assessing if your wound needed any stitches or staples.

"Good and bad news," the medic said. "The good news is that it's not that deep or big. Bad news is that it you will need a couple staples." You gave a thumbs up to let them know you had heard and to proceed. The person was quick to numb the area, staple you up and clean what they could. "There's a good chance you have a concussion. I want you to lie down when you get to your hotel. Turn the lights out. I was gonna say that I was gonna fetch someone to take you to your hotel but I'm sure the Scotsman outside will take you, he's been outside since we started this." You nodded very slightly. Your head was still ringing.

The medic left, closing the door behind them. You closed your eyes and bowed your head, hoping the pain would die away. Maybe the medic had told you they had something for you to take when they were done but you didn't hear it and you didn't dare open your eyes to try and find it. And this was your first head injury since the start of your career. At least one that caused you to now be concussed. You wondered what you needed to do because of this. Drew would know.

The door clicked open and footsteps came into the room. It was Drew. No doubt about it.

"You ok?" he asked you as quietly as he could. He probably knew what you were feeling and new that loud sounds would only make it worse.

"Yeah," you hoarsely say.

"Looks like they left you something to take for the pain if you haven't taken anything yet," he mentioned. You gave a quick sigh of relief.

"That's good, I need it."

"How's your head?"

"Never had any complaints," your PG-13 mind was very quick to quip even with the pounding your head was feeling. Of course you wouldn't miss a beat.

Your quip had Drew chuckling.

"You know Princess, when you're up for it I'll take you up on the offer," he said to you. "But for now, let's get you to the hotel to rest up." You smiled at that.

"That sounds nice," you sigh. "This is gonna suck, isn't it?" Another chuckle sounded from Drew.

"Not as much as you will when you're no longer concussed."

You wanted to laugh. You really did but the act of smiling made your head pound worse.

"Fuuuuck," you groaned before holding your hand out. "Give me the pills first then we can go." Drew sighed.

You both could tell this was going to be a long night...and not in a fun way.

~~~

So I had a funny quip that I thought would make a good quick fic...and i ran with it. Sorry y'all that it's been a while since I've given you a real fic. Life's life haha!

Hope you like this though. If you did please don't forget to like and reblog for support. 💛🖤

Tag: @acon1120 @adriennegabriella @alination @amariemoore @andie01 @annoyingasian @ashkrystal @astolenheartnkiss @axelwolf8109 @baemcintyre @beckyann6879 @brownskinafro @calicina @calwitch @castiellawolfkissed @claymoreme @crossfitjesusinblackskinnyjeans @curlyafrogirl @daddyslittlevillain @dalia-corven @darlingambrose @dcnmarvelgamergeek @demonqueen29 @fabulousrockstar @fireyegale @fivefootxo @flawlessglamazon @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @gold--gucciempress @hardcoresweet45 @iceebabies @ihavenowilltolivelol @i-have-saracasm @itsicantbelievethis666 @jazzy-tzw @jeffhardyenigmawwefan @kalliravenne @ladytea19 @lemonjvicey @letsgivethisonemoreshot @lilred91

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[crowsofdarkness]

Vas Prizrak: Chapter Five

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Agent! Reader.

Content Warnings: language, 18 + implied smut, angst, fluff, violence, mentions of losing a pregnancy, thoughts of taking one's life, an attempt to take one's life. I will give another warning when that chapter is posted.

Summary: Bucky and Reader have been in their own solace while in Wakanda for years. They were finally happy to create the life they wanted and deserved. That was until a new foe came along to dust it all away.

Authors Note: This takes place during Infinity War and Endgame! If you haven't yet, please read Soldat and Dorogaya beforehand.

Tags: @globetrotter28 @sakuracyberhex @chinggay85-blog @bookofriverr @misatxox @that-blonde-girl @cats-chaotic-mind @wintrsoldrluvr @sebastians-love @pumpkin-babydoll @ordelixx @starfly-nicole @j23r23 @baw1066 @capswife

Soldat Masterlist | Dorogaya Masterlist | Vaz Prizrak Masterlist

A flirtatious giggle fell from my lips as I pulled the body closer to me, drinking in the warmth. His fingers raked through my hair, plump lips meshing with my own, and his voice caused my heart to skip. 

“I love you,” he breathed across my face. 

The soft tune of music wrapped around us like a ribbon as our body’s danced slowly to the music. One hand linked with my own and the other, vibranium fingers were placed gently on my lower back. 

“I love you too,” I replied. 

“I don’t ever want to forget this moment,” Bucky said. 

Lips curled upward in a soft smile, feeling the love radiate through his body into my own. I stood on my toes to reach his lips, wanting to feel them on mine again, however as I was so close to close the distance Bucky vanished through my fingers. 

He fell to dust in my grasp. 

“Y/N?” 

My eyes snapped open from the dream and Bucky’s ghost was gone, my gaze staring at Steve. 

“Did you say something?” I asked. 

He was standing in front of my seat on the jet, staring down at me with worried eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, kneeling in front of me now. “We’ve been on board for a few hours and you haven’t said one word.” 

I shrugged. “There’s not much to say. I’m going to kill Thanos.” 

“Y/N-,” Steve sighed. 

“Are we done here?” I questioned, interrupting him with a hard gaze.

I went to stand, wanting to end this conversation, however Steve’s hand gripped my thigh to stop me. 

“I understand that you’re angry at everything and everyone right now but to take it out on me is bullshit,” he said. 

The anger in his eyes made the anger in my body dissipate, guilt pulling at my heart. Steve had been by my side ever since the snap and I knew it was wrong of me to take my pain out on him. 

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. 

Steve lifted my chin. “This is going to work, Y/N. We’re going to get him back.” 

I let out a shaky breath, trying to hold back the tears. 

“It has too because I don’t know what I would do if it doesn't,” I admitted. 

With a soft sigh, Steve stood to his feet and placed a kiss on the top of my head, and walked over to Nat. They conversed, something unreadable from my spot a few meters away. For a quick moment, the thought of Bucky left my mind and was replaced with the thought of Steve. 

Our relationship was confusing to a lot, me included. We shared a bed every night, some nights we would find ourselves entangled together when I would have nightmares of the snap. Steve was there, pulling me into his arms to soothe me. 

I knew that deep down Steve still felt the same way towards me as he did years ago but I couldn’t give him the same feelings. My heart will always be with Bucky. 

“Guys, it’s just him.” 

My eyes snapped to the front of the ship where Carol flew in place in space. She had flown down to the planet to scope out, seeing what we were up against. 

“Perfect,” I muttered as we all got ready for the descent below. 

The lone cabin in the middle of an open field meant nothing to any of us as I blasted a large flame towards the door, it falling to ash in seconds. Carol, Bruce, and Rhodey were inside in seconds, holding Thanos in place. 

Thor, who held the same rage as I, busted inside and with a swift movement of Stormbreaker, Thanos’ hand with the gauntlet fell to the ground with a thud. His cries were nothing to me, as the fire still burned at my fingertips. 

Steve, Nat, and I stepped inside, all side by side just like how we used to be back in the day. 

Rocket went to pick up the fallen gauntlet but when he turned it over,  a gasp fell from his lips. 

“Oh no,” Rocket muttered. 

The stones were gone. 

“Where are they?” Steve asked. 

“The stone served no purpose besides temptations,” Thanos said. 

“YOU MURDERED TRILLIONS!” I bellowed, my banshee scream caused him to fly back to the other end of the cabin. 

His broken body lay at my feet and Thor had to hold me back from setting him a blaze right there. 

“Where are the stones?” Nat asked, tears in her eyes. 

“Gone. Reduced to atoms,” Thanos choked. 

“You used them two days ago!” Banner screamed. 

“I used the stones to destroy the stones, it nearly killed me in the process,” Thanos admitted. “I am inevitable.” 

Blackness took over my vision and the heat burned low in my stomach. Whatever hope we had about bringing everyone back was gone, along with the stones. 

Thanos and Gamora exchanged words but it meant nothing to me, white noise in the background. Without a second thought, I shot a fire ball into his face, his cries being short lived as Thor went for the head, rolling below to our feet. 

“Y/N,” Steve spoke while he reached for my hand. 

I smacked him away, tears welling in my eyes. “You promised.” 

His heart sank at my broken words. 

“We’ll find a way,” he tried to reassure me. 

“No! It’s done, Steve. Bucky’s never coming back!” I yelled. 

I turned on my feet to walk away from him, away from all of them, but he stood in front of me to stop me. 

“Where are you going?” Steve asked. 

“Leave me alone,” I snapped trying to get away from him. 

His hands were firm on my shoulders. “I’m not letting you leave.” 

I raised my hands at him, the fire burning to life while my eyes went black again. The flames danced along on my hands. 

“Don’t make me hurt you, Steve,” I hissed. 

Steve reluctantly stepped to the side, letting me leave. He knew that this was a fight that he wouldn’t be able to win. My whole world was gone, never coming back all because Thanos blew the stones to hell. I couldn’t find it in my heart to live anymore. I was tired of fighting for nothing. 

Without giving a second glance back to my friends, my family, I left them all behind. Nothing mattered to me anymore, not even Steve. 

[missmargomuse616]

" Xena warrior princess? Oh I forget you probably haven't heard of it- it's one of those old TV shows from the 90s. I used to watch that when i was younger and you sort of reminded me of that character. She was also my first woman crush at the time." Margo replied with a sheepish smile. Also chuckles a bit at her reaction to the name. " maybe one day we should watch together I bet you would become fan."

" and Speaking of the avengers, I'm curious what you think about them. Also would you ever consider joining their team if they asked you to?" She asked curiously while tossing her long black hair from her shoulders. Fans a hand over her face as she starts to feel hot and muggy suddenly.

Listening to luka talk about body lifting and the like would make since of her strength yet still even with that, it seems impossible to lift a man of his size with such ease as luka made it look. Again didn't want to over think and draw any conclusions just yet. There something about her and her brother Luke that she had to know more of.

Clearing her mind of those intrusive thoughts, Margo set the balls in the center of the table. Taking one of the sticks in her hand. " okay so I may be rusty at this since it's been awhile playing pool but I will let you see how it's done." She looks over at luka and winks as she halfway bends across the table, stick aims toward the balls. With one strike hitting the balls, two managed to enter the holes in the corner of the table.

Margo was glad that Paul left the club seen walking out with a tail between his legs as if he has not only been embarrassed but also scared of Luka's strength and words. For the time being she knew he wasn't gonna be a problem so she was relieved about that. She was grateful for luka stepping in to help her, honestly the look she was giving for those few moments left a chill in her spine.

Despite the intense moment that happened and the way luka handle paul, she still felt more safe with her than those two security guards who came and went, now that things were cool and calm again, she still couldn't ignore what she saw. Perhaps it wasn't the right time to bring it up now, still wanting to enjoy the evening.

" Well I wouldn't be surprised if he pissed himself while leaving after that, you honestly reminded me of xena for a sec." She said half teasing to lighten the mood. While she seeing her tricks also reminded her of someone else with green magic, which she didn't mention out loud. " technique huh? You got me even more curious now." She commented.

She gave luka thoughtful look as she set up the pool table, " okay since you helped me, I I'll help you learn how to set this game up."

[lesbianherald]

so question for you bc I'm genuinely curious. I read the notes on chapter 12 of your fic and agreed almost all of your thoughts about the season, except i was confused about one: "nobody was done dirtier than Jinx. I felt the messaging there was choice" Can I ask what messaging you are talking about, and what issue(s) did you have with her ending? Personally after the way s1 ended I had assumed that this was about how her story would end up, so I'm honestly curious as to your issues with it

No problem! I'm sorry I'm going to be incredibly lazy and link to and quote some of my old stuff because I've talked about this a couple times.

Here's an ask where someone brings to me the fact that all three suicidal characters end up sacrificing themselves. I was a little wine drunk at the time so this has a lot of all caps and is very opinionated lmao.

Here's a quote from where I answered another ask about Jinx's storyline and mental health.

narratively, jinx was already so worried that cait was a replacement and that there could only be one. In season 1, this is set up as an unhelpful line of thinking and something that should be pushed back against. Of course there shouldn't just be one. Of course vi would have room in her life for both her love interest and her family. In season 2, this line of thinking is quite literally re-affirmed, both in the narrative and very explicitly by the writers after the fact. which is. Wrong ! and bad !

Something I didn't cover was I also really didn't enjoy how they decided that instead of wrapping up her story in a satisfying way, they'd tease she'd be in spinoffs (while still somehow painting the idea of her sacrificing herself as a satisfying end - its like the opposite of having your cake and eating it too lmao). Very capitalism getting in the way of art and storytelling if you'd ask me.

I also don't really go into detail about how ridiculous and unearned the "doom sisters" narrative was. But I feel the idea that there was no way Vi and Jinx could ever naturally reconcile and be in the same space (this is something Amanda I believe insinuated after the end of the show) was completely unearned in my humble opinion.

Additionally, they completely butchered and rushed through everything withe her, ekko, and the firelights which I also haven't brought up.

The center of this show was always the sisters. But I feel like they focused more on the romance (which they also butchered) and the men (clearly I love jayce and viktor... and yes I know the show is called 'arcane' and that they are important but I still think Vi and Jinx needed more stakes at the end and more screentime - this is very much a byproduct of the writers deciding to focus on external plot issues in favor of character).

I also think everything with Vander was an easy way out for the writers in terms of Vi and Jinx reconciling (they did it in one episode like lets be so for real) and in terms of their involvement in the finale.

There's a way to write about mental health as well. There's a way to write a compelling tragedy. I don't think either of these things apply to Jinx's ending.

[whoops-all-jennas]

Final Duet pt 4. - c.s.

Cairo Sweet x fem!reader

"My thoughts will follow you into your dreams."

Summary: Winnie checks in on Cairo, where she finally answers after a year of isolation.

a/n: Inspired by Omori, if you haven't played it, do. The story is beautiful. There will be no spoilers in this so don't worry about that :)

Warnings - Bullying, Homophobia, Death

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

The hot summer sun bakes my skin as I pour a watering can over my white egret orchids. I take a moment to admire the wing-shaped flowers before putting my watering can away.

It has now been over a year since we missed our recital, gardening is one of the few things I have where I feel close to you again.

This past year I've been isolative, lonely by choice. I know it isn't healthy, but discovering your premature death had a strong impact on me.

It doesn't help that, even now, my parents are never home to raise their child.

When I enter my house, I hear a knock at the front door. I see Winnie's silhouette past the glass. My eyes are lost at the door, deciding if I should answer it or lock myself away in my room once again.

I turn the knob, opening the door to reveal Winnie on the other side.

"You actually answered." Winnie looks at me, shocked. "I was, just wanting to check on you, maybe go out and do something."

Winnie has been trying to get in touch with me ever since your funeral. I've been evading her attempts, I know it's mean, but I just wanted to be alone.

"I guess." I say, in a low tone. I know I need to get over your passing, but locking myself away isn't going to help.

"I wasn't expecting you to answer, I didn't really have any plans." Winnie stands, pondering ideas, while my mind stays blank.

There is something I want to do, but it's not exactly a fun group activity. "Can we visit Y/n's resting place? I haven't been there in a long time."

While of course, your tombstone brings me closer to you, I just see it as a reminder of what I lost. I feel mean for never visiting, but I just couldn't.

"That's fine, it's a nice first step." Winnie says with a patient smile, the same type of smile you'd always give me during practice. You were always so kind and patient with me, even during what I imagine to be the tedious process of teaching someone a new instrument from scratch.

"I'll be back." I say, turning to walk to my back yard. I open the door, approaching the orchids that I've put all my love and time into that I wished I could've spent with you. I pick a few of them, making a small bouquet of your favorite flower.

Winnie and I are walking on the side of the road, the wing-shaped flowers flowing in the breeze.

"Did you grow those?" Winnie asks as I find her eyes before looking at the bouquet.

"I did, they were Y/n's favorite." I say, numbly.

She stares at the flowers. "It looks like you did a wonderful job, Y/n would be proud."

My throat closes for a moment, it has been awhile since I heard anyone utter your name. I open my mouth to speak, but no sounds come out. I opt to replying with a mere nod.

I approach your grave with Winnie staying by the cemetery entrance, white egret orchids whole and hearty surround your tombstone.

I stare at your memorial, forgetting I planted those seeds a year ago. It's a miracle that such a delicate and needy flower as been able to even sprout on its own.

I place the bouquet in front of your tombstone, the flowers flowing delicately in the wind.

"Cairo?" I hear a masculine voice behind me, causing me to turn around. I'm met with one of your two bullies, hulling a small wagon with gardening supplies.

I stare quietly, unsure what to do. He grabs a full watering can, approaching the grave before he waters the flowers.

"These were Y/n's favorite." He says, taking a moment to look at the bouquet I left. "But it seems you already knew that."

He smiles at the small patch of flowers that decorate your tombstone. "I've managed to forgive myself for what I've done, managing to find peace with Y/n's death."

He turns, facing me. "Yet you, you have nothing to be forgiven of, but you still let the weight of her passing pull you down. Why is that?"

For the first time in a year, anger bubbles past my numb surface. "You forgave yourself? After everything you've done to her that is not your responsibility."

He looks away for a moment. "I don't mean how I treated her. I'll never be able to forgive myself for that."

I find myself lost in my emotions. "What do you mean then?"

He looks at me, shocked. "Do you really not know?"

"Not know what?" I ask, now more confused than anything else.

He goes silent for a moment, his throat restricting his voice. "Y/n didn't just trip and fall down the stairs..."

He slips through the backyard, sneaking into your house through the backdoor. His footsteps fill the empty, dark house as he navigates up the stairs.

The door to your room opens as he twists the knob, quickly searching all the bookshelves to find your book of memories. He hears the front door open as he pulls it off the shelf, leaving the room as fast as possible.

He heads towards the stairs, you halfway up them. "What're you doing in my house?!"

He took a step back, shocked to find you here. "Taking back what's ours."

You quickly ascend the stairs, anger in step. "Yours?! I made that! You abandoned me!"

"Abigail said you threw it away one night before she gave it back to your mom!" He shouts. "You don't deserve it!"

You grab the book, trying to yank it out of his hands. "You think you deserve it?! Please! As if your homophobic ass does!"

He resists, pulling back on the book. "Let go, Y/n!"

"No!" You continue pulling as sweat builds under your palms.

Your grip slips, causing you to fall backwards, your body tumbling down the stairs. The loud thunks of your body hitting the steps fill the silence of the house until you land on your head at the bottom, your neck contorting to the pressure.

He stood there shocked, looming over your body from the top of the stairs.

Suddenly, a loud knocking is heard at the front door. He pulls himself together, quickly descending the stairs, leaving through the back.

"I turned myself in a month after her funeral." He says, staring at the ground, guilt squirming through his body. "I couldn't stay silent anymore, the guilt of what I did was destroying me."

I stand there silently, feeling numb to the truth just like how I felt the past year to your passing. I turn around, taking my first few steps to leave.

"Wait, Cairo." I stop in place to his voice. "Do you think I deserve forgiveness?"

Even though he says he's forgiven himself, it's clear he hasn't. The guilt of your death eating him from the inside out.

"I don't believe I'm in the mental state to answer." I respond, truthfully.

I walk back to the entrance, thinking about his words.

'Yet you, you have nothing to be forgiven of, but you still let the weight of her passing pull you down. Why is that?'

I find Winnie by the entrance. "I know something else I'd like to do, if that's okay."

My violin case rests over my shoulder, the dust from lack of use falling onto the street with each step. For the first time in a year, I hum that familiar tune you loved so much as we approach the school.

The sun is beginning to set beyond the horizon, finding the rays of golden hour nostalgic to your presence.

We walk through the back entrance, closest to the music room. The silence of the hall deafening as we approach the forgotten room, it's as if I can still hear you playing piano, muffled through the wall.

Winnie opens the door, revealing a dark room before flipping the lights. The same fluorescent light in the corner flickering.

The room looks more abandoned than before without you maintaining it, cobwebs and dust litter the room.

"Is it okay if I'm here alone for a minute?" I ask, quietly.

Winnie nods, giving me a patient smile.

I approach a music stand, setting it up to be able to be read from standing. The zipper of my violin case tears through the silence of the room, finding the picture we took on the first snowfall of January. You have the widest, happiest smile while my face is flushed red, looking away from the camera.

For the first time in a year, a smile finds my face as I reminisce.

I take the sheet music out of the case, placing it on the music stand. I stare at the blank space where a title should be, noticing small writing in blue pen at the top of the page in your handwriting.

why don't you think of a title for me? you read a lot, you must know plenty of words

I stare at the words for a moment, seeing merely your handwriting having a clear effect on me. I grab my violin, admiring the flowers engraved in the glossy wood before I check the tuning of the strings.

I tighten the bow and apply the resin, before doing the warm up exercises you taught me.

My eyes find the sheet music, hesitating for a moment as I take a deep breath.

I close my eyes, feeling your presence behind me, sitting in front of a glossy black piano. I'm standing on a stage, facing a small audience I can't see through a spotlight being cast over me.

The beginning notes of a piano fill the stage, your fingers gliding over the keys. The notes descend from it's initial high notes until it reaches a deep, low note. You transition the notes back up an octave, finding the middle of the piano.

The last note is followed by a chord as the tempo increases slightly, creating a bright atmosphere.

I slide my bow across the strings of the violin, the note stretching across the concert hall.

As I play, I can't help but reminisce on all the times I spent with you. The hours we spent in the music room, your patient smile guiding me calmly as you teach me the instrument I'm performing now.

I remember your tears the first night we stayed at my house, staining my clothes the same way you pleasantly stain my memories. My arms lulling you to sleep as I hold you comfortingly.

I feel the cold on my hands as I roll a snowball on the ground near you, making the biggest snowman I have, or will ever make. After we had a little snowball fight we warmed up by the fire. There's hardly a better feeling than thawing out after a cold day, but doing it with you is the true experience.

My legs find the red and white quilt on the soft grass as you place a flower crown over my head. This was the day you gave me the violin I'm playing. I will never forget the excitement on your gleeful face when you revealed the recital we were performing at.

That flower crown you gave me resides above my bed, wilted, but the memories still intact.

I see the blank audience once again, the experience I'm living that never happened. I draw out the final note of the song, feeling your presence fading behind me. A bare piano lies in your place, yet still warm by the idea of you.

I open my eyes, the complete song branding into my memory for the first and last time. I'll never get to hear the complete song again, as I will follow your wish of it being our song that no one else will perform.

The abandoned music room settles around me, clashing with the clean and well-lit stage I was imagining. It feels as if a weight was lifted off my chest, even if your presence will fade, the memories will not, and I won't let my grieving tarnish my happy ones.

I find a blue pen, drawing it to the blank space. There's only one thing I can think of that suites your masterpiece, albeit a long title.

My Thoughts Will Follow You Into Your Dreams

a/n: The song that's linked in all parts is the song you made in the story.

[ragnarockz]

for the men Strap POV Dialogue prompts... but its agent Vidal/Rio top, if that's ok with you?

1, 5, 8, 13

I may or may not have a thing for desperate top Rio... 🥺 Please and thank you 🤲

-🌟

“You feel so good around my cock.”

5. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

8. “Please let me cum.”

13. “Please. Fuck. Yes. Make me cum. Make me cum deep inside you.”

Ohhhhh yeah; love me some top!Vidal 🥰💚

"You feel so good around my cock,"

Agnes hissed under her breath before moaning loudly. Vidal had taken her seat on Agnes' strap; facing each other. Vidal's legs held tight against the side of Agnes' body, using the grip to grind down harder, deeper onto Agnes. It was one of Agnes' favorite views in the entire world, Vidal sitting high and mighty; filled to the fucking brim with her cock. Tits bouncing as she controlled her own pace, her own needs. Agnes was just a vessel, just a toy for Vidal to use. Every once in a while, Agnes would buck her hips up and throw Vidal off course which elicited a long and deep scratch from the top of Agnes' thigh down to the knee. Vidal didn't like being thrown off her rhythm all that well. Agnes wanted to die every single time Vidal pouted.

Agnes watched Vidal through hooded eyes; watched her bounce and grind down onto the silicone that was planted snugly into the harness. It felt like nothing else mattered in that moment; the outside world melting away as the two of them fucked each others brains out. Was it Saturday? Sunday? Agnes lost track of time every time Friday night rolled around and they decided to 'stay in' for the weekend. Staying in always meant them barely leaving the bedroom; finding new ways to get one another off. It didn't take much; they couldn't keep their hands off of each other.

"Don't stop. Please don't stop,"

Agnes mumbled under her breath; half-conscious as she could feel the friction between her legs; the weight of Vidal on top of her. Her own thighs were wet; covered in sweat and her own wetness. She could feel it seeping out of her; the sight alone of Vidal fucking her silicone cock was enough to make her wet, get her off. She was barely even touched by her, minus the scratching, and it was enough to make her feel like she was burning, aching inside. There was a dull throbbing; a deep aching to be touched or filled or fucked. Agnes let out a deep moan; shifting her hips.

Vidal knew what was happening, knew Agnes all too well. She was getting off by herself; she wasn't going to wait. It happened every time, not that it made Vidal upset or anything. It was obvious from the first time they were intimate that Agnes' libido was much higher, must faster than Vidal's. It didn't take much to get her wet or reach her orgasm. It made waiting and teasing all the more fun, Vidal thought. But here, right now, as she rocked against Agnes she could tell just from that moan that it was all going to end very, very soon.

Vidal's hands found Agnes' thighs again, digging her nails into the detective's skin. Agnes lifted her head, her neck to get a better view of the Agent on top of her. She caught a quick glance at how slick the silicone cock was; obviously doing its job.

"What's the fucking nails for, baby? Jesus..."

"Please let me cum."

Agnes huffed; rolled her eyes as she let her head hit the pillow again,

"No one's saying you can't..."

"I can tell you're just about ready...if you haven't already..."

Vidal's words were low, challenging. They had a hint of accusation in them; tugging at Agnes' conscious that she may or may not have done something 'bad'. Vidal smirked, tossing her hair over her shoulder in a way that made her breasts bounce against her chest. Within seconds, Agnes' hands, her fingers were digging into Vidal's waist. Vidal laughed, how easy it was to make the detective snap. A quick flick of her hair and a titty bounce was all Agnes needed to get a head start.

“Please. Fuck. Yes. Make me cum. Make me cum deep inside you!”

Vidal whined, high pitched and desperate; almost a full scream. Agnes felt like her head was spinning and a low strand of curses flew out of her mouth all at once. She was both focusing and losing herself in the moment; everything blurring and merging at once.

[taralen]

💡 The significance of Spamton's character arc and connection with Kris.

Late-night thoughts and analysis by an actual crazy person.

[Warning: Some spoilers for Chapter 2]

Say what you want about Spamton, but at least he has the self-awareness to realize he's been a piece of @#$%. Not everyone can do that despite harboring negative feelings for others. He wants revenge but is internally conflicted and values Kris despite his selfish desires. If he wants to, he can easily cannon that little sucker the moment he gets his upgrade, but he doesn't. He hesitates, and even during his secret boss fight as SNEO, he still struggles and wants Kris to be the one to give up their soul.

He knows Kris is someone he connects to on a deep level, who came into his life without warning, as if by happen-chance. They don't know each other long, but they have an instant bond, and both see eye-to-eye in their struggles, at least in the main route. In Snowgrave, we see what happens when Spamton is indulged too much. He caves into his selfish desires because he comes to see Kris and Noelle as tools rather than friends. Ultimately, he admits that he manipulated them the whole time and only cares about himself.

The player's soul is selfish in the Snowgrave route, indulging Spamton to be cruel and power-trip. Spamton has garbage self-esteem, but when the opportunity comes for something to feed his fragile ego, he takes it without thinking about the consequences. Spamton, at his core, is not evil, but he's not necessarily a good person. He has what it takes to be one, but it takes one person (Kris) to see this light in him and not give up on it. Now, imagine if, at the end of the extra boss fight, Spamton remains indignant.

Imagine how different the perception of his character would be if, instead of lending his strength, he chooses to die on this hill about how he is always right and that his ambitions matter more than anything else. 🤔

He'd probably bounce around in his wires and insist he'd "WIN" if only Kris's friends didn't interfere. Where would he end up? Probably in a cage like King, humiliated and alone or forced to become a weapon like in the Snowgrave route.

I'm glad Toby did not end his character arc in a predictable way that lacks growth. I would surely not love this character as much if he turned out that way. Sure, he would still have his charisma and be an interesting character, but he wouldn't be the Spamton we know and love in this fandom. He wouldn't be a character so many of us can resonate with and feel happy for once he finally realizes his pride and greed are not what matters most. He teaches us a valuable lesson in empathy.

Allowing himself to be vulnerable to Kris gives him this strange spiritual awakening that no one else has given him in his entire life. Rather than run and shun Kris, he values them until the very end and realizes that even though they cut his strings, they don't do it to hurt him. They do it to make him realize that his self-serving mindset truly holds him back. Humility, empathy, and being able to admit to his deepest flaws make him such a fantastic character. In the end, he learns to forgive them and himself. 💛🩷

[cathalbravecog]

i'm the antonymph of the internet

[adore-gregor]

Lol I keep on doing this, saying I'd come back to tumblr to only disappear again 😂😭

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

tonight I go to bed grateful not to be in my bnha phase right now

[keeps-ache]

yay yippee yay :3 🎉

[robinsnest2111]

always fun whenever I bring up an anecdote from my childhood and it turns out it wasn't an anecdote, but actually recounting an apparently traumatic event. at least according to the people I tell the anecdote to.