#and is enslaved by anything he comes into contact with

[k1d1c4rus]

armand telling lestat his story like literally the act being described as him being cut open and lestat being able to see his insides and the takeaway for lestat being "damn... l really gotta meet this guy marius!!!" is CRAZY. like WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNNN

[hom3landr]

That Unwanted Animal

18+

Homelander x Soulmate!reader

You don’t love Homelander. Even when he looks like everything you’ve ever wanted.

Loosely based on this post from @blindmagdalena

His t-shirt is soft under your hands as you cling to him. The baseball cap shields his features from you as presses you against the alley wall. The blue fabric rubs against your cheek as he thrusts up into you. The both of you avoid eye contact and as you bury your face into his shoulder, the scent of his cologne nearly chokes you. You thought it would be easier like this. You’d believed that maybe without the suit you could pretend your “lover” was a normal man. Maybe the two of you had met at a bar, or a doctor’s office, or while walking dogs in the park. You could have been an ordinary couple with a soulmate story fit for a Hallmark movie.

But a change of clothes can’t distract you from the fact that this man, your soulmate, is the very man you’ve dedicated your life to bringing down. It’s a sick joke, isn’t it? You love your team. Hughie is always there with a shoulder to cry on. M.M. gives good advice. Frenchie and Kimiko have become almost like siblings to you. Even Butcher you hold fondness for, as infuriated as he often makes you. They’re your family and yet you’re here fucking enemy #1 in a filthy alley and he’s going to make you come.

You bite his shoulder to keep from crying out as he effortlessly holds you up. It would be easier if he was bad in bed. The soulmate bond would still suck ass, but at least you wouldn’t derive pleasure from it. He came so fast the first time you fucked him that you’d initially been relieved. It had been perfect until he’d spread your legs to lap his own come from you until you’d shuddered helplessly against his tongue. You’d gone home and cried after, despite the pleasure still pulsing warmly through your veins.

You can’t even say it isn’t consensual. Your bond causes you to ache for him viscerally. Hell, this time you sought him out. He didn’t even protest when you laid out your terms. He had seemed more amused than anything. When he showed up wearing civilian clothing like you demanded, you almost turned him away with tears pricking at your eyes.

He looks soft, human, like someone you could love, a real soulmate. Even as he pumps into you, the peek of blond sticking out from beneath the cap makes you ridiculously endeared against your will. If only he was anyone else…

Soulmates have always been romanticized to a ridiculous degree, despite everyone knowing a story of some person who is enslaved by their mark instead of liberated. There are many things that can tie two souls together besides love. Yet everyone still longs for the day they find their match, in hopes of the happiest of endings. You had been no different.

You whine and clench around him as he angles himself differently, his cock sliding even deeper into you until it feels like you're choking on it. Your mark burns and the empty pit in your stomach that lingers in his absence is washed away with each heated pulse. The nausea of being away from him finally subsides with each brush of your skin against his. He sighs happily into your hair, as the same sense of belonging envelopes him. This feels right and it makes you want to scream.

“Mine,” he growls against your temple.

“Yours,” your bond answers for you.

You only ever fuck him in comfortless places.

Your heels dig into his ass and you rock yourself into his thrusts. He nips at your ear gently…affectionately. He can’t distinguish between true love and the oppressive obsession that comes with a mate. You don’t love him. Things would be easier if you did.

Why couldn’t he be anybody else?

“Is this good?” He asks needily. He can sense your distraction. He wants to be good for you. He wants to please you. You flutter around him and one hand strokes the back of his neck tenderly despite the mental torment that you’re facing. No one has ever been so attentive during sex before. He makes you feel cherished. Even when you beg for him to make it hurt, he refuses. The same hands that have commited endless cruelties hold you like something rare and precious.

You don’t answer and you can feel his petulant frown against your skin as he waits for feedback.

He adjusts you effortlessly in his grip so he can stroke you exactly the way he’s learned you like it. You whine desperately as you leak all over his fingers and drip onto the ground below. He sighs at the feeling.

“I love you so much.” He whispers intimately into your ear. His sincerity makes you want to weep. “You’re everything I ever wanted.”

It doesn’t matter how many times you rebuke him or refuse his offer to take you home with him. He still believes that you feel the same. He believes that one day he’ll find you soaking wet at his penthouse door, having run across the city in the pouring rain to him, confessing how much it hurt to push him away. He wants the satisfaction of knowing that you abandoned your team from sheer want of him. He thinks of your situation as a romantic comedy that hasn’t hit the emotional climax yet.

It’s pathetic and delusional and you hate how close you know you are to fulfilling it. You don’t love him…but you know you could.

Despite how hard you try to resist, you come hard and you sob into his neck at the intensity of it. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear as he rubs you through it. You kiss him to shut him up and he groans into your mouth as he releases inside you. He kisses you back desperately, seeking whatever crumbs of affection you let yourself give him, using them as proof to fuel his delusional fantasies.

Once you’ve both ridden out your respective orgasms, he finally pulls back to look at you. The softness in his eyes belongs to a kinder man. Your stomach flips. His cap has been knocked slightly askew and he looks human. He frowns slightly and the hand he was using to bring you pleasure brushes something off your cheek.

“You’re crying.” He remarks, hand now cupping your cheek as his thumb strokes your skin in an attempt to comfort you. You want him to be rude to you the way he is to everyone else. You want him to mock you and make crass disrespectful remarks. You open your mouth to reply and a broken sob comes out. He hushes you softly and leans down to kiss the tears that roll down your cheeks

“I love you.” You confess finally, the truth is bitter and shameful in your mouth. You’ve finally stopped lying to yourself

“You say that every time. Are you actually going to follow through or are you going to deny yourself some more?” He asks dryly, cocking his head at you. His grip flexes as he continues to press you against the wall.

You both know the answer. Just like you both know that one day the answer will be different.

Your team better succeed before then.

[samodivaa]

Dip it, Lick it

Warnings - smut, oral (m), overstimulation

Bucky watches you lick the ice cream before you wrap your lips around it, closing your eyelids and savoring the flavor which dances on your taste buds. You slowly withdraw the ice cream from your mouth and open your eyes. You smile innocently at his rapt attention as you continue to talk about your day while Bucky thinks about those sweltering kisses from your frosty lips―not so innocently.

But then something crosses his face, a thought, a hesitation, and he tries to shift slightly. It doesn’t help that you are straddling his lap on the couch. Not now. Not yet―Bucky keeps eye contact, gazing lovingly at you as naughtiness emanates from his eyes—you stare at him. You have curiously thoughtful and attentive eyes, eyes that are very pretty and very nice, he loves when you stare at his blue orbits—such divine orbs—not just one shade of color, but...many, with a hint of confusion glimmering, he sees it. Your eyes narrow slightly.

Without taking his eyes off your face even for a moment, but his expression is very strange, he gazes at you as though you are an object a couple of miles distant, or as though he is looking at your portrait and not at your real self at all, with a look of weariness, focusing on his lungs, on his ability to take deep breaths, to soothe with oxygen as he wants words to rolls off his tongue. He is hopelessly enslaved by something—lust. This purgatory of the spirit, arousal is something that he cannot hide, not with that huge tent between his legs.

“Bucky, are you listening to me?” “Of course I am,” he says unsteadily. He smiles, wanting your voice aimed at him, he wants his face to absorb the direction of your eyes—but your gaze moves downwards. To his crotch. Your eyes look up and Bucky’s are black as chips of obsidian staring back into yours, two black holes, letting nothing out, not even information. You don’t say anything—at least, not with your mouth. Your eyes tell him a different story. And slowly, clumsily, you lean forward, your lips find his, the coldness of yours and the warmth of his tongue beneath yours, disintegrating your entire body. His tongue spears more into your mouth, and the taste of him, mixes with the flavor of the ice cream, sweet—closed-mouth kisses that still feel scandalous, but too delicious to resist.  And you thought that you might be wrong, but then a deep sound comes from him, almost a growl and instinctively you know it is a sound of approval. You chuckle softly when you pull back and if Bucky thought your mouth was dangerous, your chuckle should’ve been classified as a weapon. Sin in a sound. “Turned on by me eating ice cream?” you ask, voice barely audible. You take the ice cream in your month while looking to see his blue eyes soaking you in as Bucky groans and your core melts at the sound, your breath stops as his tongue skims his lower lip. He shakes his head, but there's something more than lust in his eyes as he stares at your lips. He wants more. “I. Will. Try. It. On. Your. Dick.” As you draw closer again, his eyes widen a little at the boldness of your words. You punctuate each word with a chilly kiss along his jaw, making your way to his ear. You bite the lobe, and Bucky’s cock twitches as the fingers of your free hand drift lower, from his abs, to his stomach. The slight touch of brow sweat-coated, his breathing uneven. He moans against your lips. His metal hand slides down between your legs and he presses a fingertip against your knickers. You just keen and your hips buck forwards. His body is on fire, his hands move to your hips, encircling your waist and pulling you onto his cock, seeking friction. Bucky runs three fingers along your covered cunt, soft folds through the thin cotton fabric. He wants to stroke you slowly, but you suddenly pull away to rise on your feet just to kneel between his legs seconds later—a tremendous rush runs through Bucky’s body, as if every cell is electrified at once, he even has to bite his lip to not moan at the sight in front of him, why is he so desperate? “Bucky” you whisper, breaking him out of his trance. 

His heart races as you reach for his waistband, sliding his sweats enough to free his cock. His dick is straining against his briefs with a wet patch forming from the precum, and you watch as his dick springs up and then falls slightly, reaching his stomach. He stares at you apprehensively, and you wrap your much smaller hand around his length, hearing him suck in a breath as you lick the ice cream again before leaning down to kiss his tip, he almost cums at the sensation of the coldness hitting his cock. Perhaps his breathing eases. Perhaps he looks a trifle more peaceful, despite his eyes rolling beneath their lids. In this moment, his mind is between two elements: one, excitement, the other, focusing on not cumming on the spot. He tries to pay attention, but the kiss with your cold lips is electric and pulsing—his loud moan makes you waste no time. You pump his cock a few times as you bring the ice cream into your mouth once again, swirling your tongue over it before pushing his dick down your throat. His cock is so large that you have to fight not to scrape your teeth against it, flattening your tongue under the base of it so you decide to focus on sucking only the tip. “Wait, stop…I-I need a moment” he nearly sobs out the words. His eyes are open, face flushed, ragged breathing which he fails to hide, his extraordinary earnestness and self-control is non-existent, he can’t keep his composure while trembling all over. An impossible pleasure goes through him, making him gasp, legs start to quiver with the impending orgasm—he has a whole body shudder while finishing and you're so mean so you keep sucking his tip.

[internetskiff]

Breen's unfortunately pretty underrated amongst the Valve antagonists, which I suppose is understandable compared to the likes of GLaDOS or The Administrator, but just like those two I feel like there's plenty of things to talk about when it comes to him. He seems like a very conflicted character, especially if you take into account the BreenGrub account and Laidlaw's Epistle 3. First of all is, of course, the leadup to the Black Mesa incident, with the G-Man seemingly making an offer to Breen which seemingly involved overloading the Anti-Mass Spectrometer while processing an extremely pure sample of Xen Crystal - and yes, while it's pretty obvious that the order to overload the systems was very intentional and motivated by whatever deal they struck, I believe that when it comes to the aftermath he may have been sold on a lie. Considering his actions as Administrator of Earth being entirely in the interests of keeping Humanity from feeling the full force of the Combine, I don't think "Becoming the de facto leader of all of Earth" was on his agenda. Perhaps G-Man promised that whatever their deal would entail would bring about a prosperous future for humanity, perhaps all he promised was the possibility of establishing contact with another sentient species (which is something he technically did provide), or perhaps it was something else - there's simply way too much room for speculation there, I think.

A little detail from a HL:A newspaper implies that his position as Earth's administrator wasn't exactly handed to him on a silver platter, instead he had to go out of his way to reach out to the governments with information on how to communicate with the invaders, at which point, already beaten down by Combine forces, they simply gave him the all-clear to speak for all of mankind. This still begs the question of who, or what, gave him the knowledge of how to speak with them - however, it's safe to say if they didn't, Earth would've been left a smoldering pile of rocks and withered carcasses. Once again, he acts with Humanity's best interests in mind, having to choose between the lesser of two evils - it's either enslavement or extinction. He simply chose the option in which Humanity would survive, even if just for a little while longer.

And ever since, we're watching the aftermath. He's trying to talk the last generation of Humanity down, so they may either pass of old age or be absorbed into the Combine - at least if that happens, something gets preserved. Once again, the alternative? They'll just wipe the slate once they get the local teleportation technology they desire. Breen sees no other way than to go along with their demands. He's eventually proven wrong, of course, but he refuses to see the Rebellion as anything but a suicidal march towards the extinction of the human race, and he sticks to that belief up until he is killed by Gordon at the tip of the Citadel. Of course, this doesn't make him a good person. Not at all. This belief has lead him to seek out and destroy anyone who tries to resist. He shows no sympathy to them. He paints them as fools. He himself believes it so. This intense hatred for anyone who resists is seen perfectly in how he treats the Vance family. He views them as fools. As narrow-minded rabble in the streets, senselessly struggling against a tide beyond their comprehension. He's willing to send off a father and his daughter into a world far beyond simply to use them as a bargaining chip. Listening to the two comfort eachother as they're almost raised up to a fate surely worse than death, the only expression on his face is that of pure contempt and annoyance. He's a very fascinating character that I wish Valve would explore again if they ever do another Half Life set during a time period in which he was still alive. He's a coward that easily bends to the oppressor, yet in the end he only does it to make sure something survives. He's cruel to those who resist because he's completely convinced they're going to get everyone killed. He is the Combine's perfect puppet.

haha anyhoo so why was he straight up serving on the magazine covers in HL:A like what was up with all that

[mykoreanlove]

Deceptive bonds

Changbin’s house parties were notorious for all kind of things: snoring coke on the bathroom tiles, messy sex in confined closets and serious philosophy discussions over the kitchen counter. You would never admit this to others but secretly you were proud to have participated in all those activities. Weren’t your college years made for that?

Today’s party provided you with a new experience though – a smooth and comfortable make out session with your boyfriend amidst dozens of eyes.

You were sitting on Felix’ lap giggling and kissing, touching him as much as you could. The two of you haven’t been dating for very long, hence you were all over each other without having a care in the world.

You admired everything about him: his blonde hair that fell into his chocolate brown eyes, the countless freckles on his cheeks or heart shaped lips that made your heart flutter everytime they landed on your skin. Felix’ grip on your hips tightened as he distracted your train of thought.

“What are you thinking about, love?”

Love.

He didn’t know you that long, but he already gave you the world’s most significant nickname. Warmth spread in your body, and you smiled comfortingly. “Just how much I like you.”

His lips turned up before they crashed on yours, eliciting a storm of butterflies within you.

Being with Felix was nice – it felt safe and comfortable.

Your mind started to wander as you noticed how different it felt from what you were used to with…

“Get up.”

His voice was deep and underscored with rage. Felix broke off the kiss and stared at his friend in bewilderment. It took you a second before you were able to make eye contact with him – he always had you enslaved with one of his glances.

Hyunjin didn’t even look at you, his eyes stared directly at Felix. “They are waiting for you. You signed up for beer pong, remember?”

Felix sighed in annoyance. “Oh shoot, shit.” He turned around and flashed you his brightest smile. “Y/N, will you be okay for a while? I have to go show them how it’s done, Aussie style!”

He was so excited, you could never say no.

“Go. Show them how it’s done, angel.”

Hyunjin flinched at your nickname for his best friend but luckily no one noticed. Felix kissed you quickly and made his way to the outside, ready to give it his all.

After he left, Hyunjin finally acknowledged you. He held out his hand to you, waiting for you to take it.

You stared at him in confusion. “What?”

“We need to talk. Now.”

The rage in his voice was nothing compared to the one in his eyes – they were darker than the night.

You got up and slapped his hand away. “We don’t have anything to talk about.”

As you made your way to the kitchen, you passed the closet in which you went down on your knees for him once. You came to a halt and watched the pantry as memories of that steamy night flooded your consciousness.

It didn’t take Hyunjin much time to come after you, so he yanked you into the closet with him.

“Are you out of your mind?”

The space was anything but narrow, not a single piece of paper would have fit between the two of you. His scent clouded your vision just as it did back then. Hyunjin was breathing heavily, his chest was heaving with a lot of emotions.

“Am I out of my mind? Are you? Y/N, are you for real?”

There was so much emotion in his voice, yet you had trouble identifying what it was. Even though the inside of the closet was barely lit, you were still able to see him clearly. His porcelain skin was framed by his dark clothes and red hair, his nostrils flaring, his jaw clenched. You pinched yourself and winced at the pain.

“See? That hurt. I am real, yes.”

He rolled his eyes at you in annoyance.

“I can’t believe you. You’re dating Felix?!”

You smirked. “Yeah, I am. Why do you care though?”

He was getting more agitated by the second.

“Why do -I- care? You’re dating my best friend when it should have been me!”

Now you were the one rolling your pretty eyes at him.

“Oh please. Spare me the bullshit, Hyunjin.”

He took a deep breath, trying his best to calm his nerves.

“Listen. I know what this looks like and I- “

“Oh, do you?”, you snapped at him angrily. You both glared at each other as if you were going to rip off each other’s heads.

Or pants.

“Don’t”, he gritted through his teeth.

You chuckled maniacally. “Don’t what? Tell you how much I like you? That I’m in love with you? That I want us to be more? Don’t worry, we already did that play.”

Memories of you begging him to choose you flooded your mind. Hyunjin and you were a thing for a couple of weeks – you considered those weeks to be the best ones of your life. Being with him felt exciting, thrilling, and unstable. He always kept you on edge, never letting you know what he was up to. That love you shared was obsessive, passionate, and mind-blowing, just like the orgasms he gave you. But that was all he had to offer as Hyunjin denied you more of him.

“Is that why you’re dating him now?” You could have sworn to detect vulnerability in his tone.

“Can you really blame me?” He didn’t say a word. You sighed heavily.

“Felix makes me happy. I feel safe with him, like I can rely on him. He’s a good guy and I think I deserve that.”

He furrowed his brows, thinking a thousand thoughts at the same time. Hyunjin didn’t find the right words to say, so he let his body speak for him. His slender fingers grabbed your wrists and traced patterns on the soft skin.

“Is that really what you want?”, his tone was soft, barely a whisper.

His touch alone was enough to make your mind go blank. You didn’t dare to look at his eyes in fear of what you could do.

“Y/N”, he whispered your name, “look at me. Please.”

You tilted your head and looked into his enticing eyes – the rage was gone and substituted with longing.

“I know what I said to you back then. And back then, I really meant it. But now…”

His hands trailed up your arms and laced behind your neck, pulling you close to him. “Now that I see you with him, I can’t help myself. I had no idea that I want you like that, y/n.”

Hyunjin tilted his head to the side, his eyes set on seducing you. “You should be sitting on my lap, baby. Just like you used to. Remember how you did that? Remember what we did in here?”

You felt like suffocating. He was taking your breath away.

“Stop”, you muttered.

He grinned innocently. “I won’t do anything, y/n. Felix is still my friend, after all.” You felt your shoulders relax, feeling like you escaped the danger.

For now.

“But- “, his lips traced your throat slightly, “I’ll be waiting, baby.”

You didn’t understand. “Waiting? For what?”

He was oozing arrogance, laughing against your skin.

“We both know how this is going to end. Number one – he is going to fuck this up. I know him, y/n. There is more to him than his angelic persona. Or number two- “.

He backed off a bit and placed his thumb on your lips, slightly applying pressure. “You’ll get bored very quickly. He is safety and I am danger and I know how much you crave that adrenaline that only I can give to you.”

You didn’t even realize you were sucking on his thumb, too engulfed by the words he said. You slapped his thumb away as soon as you realized, looking down feeling ashamed.

“That’s right, baby”, he chuckled mischievously before exiting the closet, “I know what you truly want. Don’t make me wait too long.”

[oliversrarebooks]

Augusnippets Day 18: Apocalypse

Human Resistance Masterlist

Augusnippets Masterlist

tw: apocalypse, mind control

It was a quiet sort of apocalypse.

Zach, Jesse, and Sky picked their way through overgrown lots to reach what used to be a big box store. It was far enough away from any of the aliens' strongholds to be left untouched and relatively safe, but it was still risky to be anywhere near former human civilization. All it really took was one unlucky run-in with a patrol, even for survivors as experienced as Zach's crew.

They wouldn't be out here if it weren't necessary. Their base was running low on many critical supplies, and the store was likely untouched. It would have non-perishable food, clothing, and medicine in abundance, well worth the risk. Zach's crew was traveling light, only carrying the absolute essentials, in the hopes of filling their empty packs and carrying back as much as possible.

It was the silence that really got to Zach. He'd grown up loving zombie movies, the gorier the better, and he'd envisioned the apocalypse as noisy chaos. Stores looted, buildings burned and trashed, roving gangs mowing down hordes of zombies. Instead, it was peaceful. Nearly every building was left entirely intact, looking as if it could open for normal business at any moment, and the only sound was birdsong.

The silence and peace was a chilling reminder of how the aliens liked to operate. They didn't come to kill the Earthlings with advanced weaponry. No, they conquered humanity swiftly and effortlessly using little more than their psychic powers to subjugate everyone they came into contact with. Cities didn't fall -- they had their populations spirited away in minutes, crowds of dazed, sleepwalking humans herding themselves into alien ships, leaving behind everything with no hesitation.

Zach swept the area near the store with his modified heat sensor. "Coast is clear."

The automatic doors opened for them when they approached -- the aliens had also kept the power running in most populated areas. Cheerful signs informed them of a 20% off clothing sale and new toys for summer fun. Apart from the complete lack of people, the only real indication that anything was wrong was the shopping carts that had been left all around the aisles.

The three split up wordlessly. Zach headed right for the first aid section and began filling his backpack with bandages, painkillers, antibiotic cream, and any other medicine that seemed useful. He'd moved on to the soap aisle when he heard the unmistakable sound of the automatic doors opening.

Shit. There were only a couple of things this could be -- one of his two companions had broken protocol; there was another unknown group of human survivors, possibly hostile; or -- most likely -- it was an alien patrol. Zach crouched down, making as little sound as possible while going over the escape routes in his head.

Footsteps were drawing nearer. They sounded human. Zach dared to glance around the aisle, and was surprised by what he saw.

It was a group of aliens with humans alongside them. The aliens were little more than masses of gray tentacles, pulling themselves across the linoleum. The humans were all wearing the uniforms, collars, and blissful expressions typical of those who had been enslaved. They were in the clothing department, and the humans seemed to be talking and laughing among themselves, picking out clothes and holding them up.

What were they doing? He'd never seen this sort of thing happen before.

Some of the aliens' tentacles had huge, bright eyes with colorful rainbow swirls in them. These were their primary weapons, capable of snaring a human mind in an instant. As one of the aliens looked around the store, Zach averted his gaze. Even at this distance, it was dangerous to even glance at their eyes, unless he wanted to be turned into one of their zombies.

All it took was just one look. One look, and there wouldn't be any more missions to raid old stores just to survive. No more thin rations and hiding in caves, no more sneaking through the remains of ordinary civilization. It'd be over, and he'd be rendered mindless and turned into one of their slaves.

One look, and he could rest.

He shook the idea from his mind. His resistance group was counting on him as their leader. He couldn't afford to entertain thoughts like that, no matter how fleeting. He had to finish gathering supplies and escape.

Thankfully, this wasn't a patrol out looking for human resistance, but a group with some different mission. The aliens were slowly remaking the remains of human civilization to their liking -- they were probably here to survey the shops and roads, not to fight. He'd had enough practice in stealth that he could slip through the aisles and back to the entrance without attracting their attention.

But then he heard a crash from the back of the store.

It wasn't that loud, probably just a few things knocked off a shelf, but in the desolate store, it echoed off the tiles. The group of aliens absolutely heard it, because their tentacles went from looking relaxed to being on high alert.

Zach swore under his breath. What a fucking mistake to make. Maybe his teammates hadn't heard the doors open or spotted the threat, maybe they'd just been careless or unlucky, but regardless, this was going to make their escape a whole lot more difficult.

He slipped back into the aisles. He could still evade them, he could still make it out. The problem was that he was just so fucking tired. Tired of having to fight for his life and autonomy just to go to a goddamn Target and get some food and medicine. Tired of wondering if this is the day when it'd all be over.

He was just so tired.

He jerked his head up, opening his eyes. There must be an alien nearby, subtly influencing his thoughts. That's one of the ways they got you, distracting and luring you with thoughts of things you wanted -- in his case, a good night's sleep.

So at least one alien had sensed his mind, but it probably still didn't know exactly where he was. He could use that to his advantage as long as --

Something slimy gripped his ankle, and a wave of drowsy stillness washed over him, a deep compulsion to relax and not resist.

He knew what he was supposed to do. Screw up his defiance, remember his training, ignore the alien thoughts, escape.

Sometimes he wished he could just give up and let it all be over with.

Zach realized his mistake as soon as the alien presence amplified that thought, flooding him with the deep, irresistible desire to give up, to let go, to feel the deep relief of knowing that the worst was over with. He couldn't fight it, not when he was already so weary. And so when the hypnotic eye blossomed before his face, filling his mind with mesmerizing color, all he could do was let go.

Human Resistance Masterlist

Augusnippets Masterlist

@augusnippets

[hungryforjay]

escape 𖥔 nishimura riki

[g angsty, bsf riki (or smthn more??]

𖥔 tw ‘murder’ | i was thinking of making this a series/chapter thing but i can’t commit to anything for shit

˗ˏˋ 𓅰 ˎˊ˗

Lights out at ten. You can find yourself under the covers or under the unforgiving back of a calloused hand. Y/n knew better. Never talk back to the headmistress, never hunch around the headmistress, never look at the headmistress…Y/n knew better. But when push comes to shove, Y/n found themselves slick like the lies slithered off their tongue.

“And why are you out of bed at this hour, might I ask?” The headmistress croaked, her wrinkled arm bearing an oil lamp that’s flame flickered her ugly face in and out of sight.

You jutted your chin out, feigning confidence as you stood tall, eyes narrowed elsewhere than the latter’s eyes.

This is it.

Your fingers curled into a tighter fist, nails grinding against your rough skin. A knot twisted in your abdomen the moment you locked eyes with Riki—Riki who lurked in the shadows with nothing but a hammer in hand and a mischievous glint shimmering in his pupils.

This is it.

The other twelve kids enslaved in the school are huddled by the front door, legs bouncing in anticipation and a will instilled by anxiety induced fear. They’re just waiting for Y/n’s go.

“I asked you a question, L/n.” The headmistress stepped closer, the floorboard creaking under her foot as she thrusted the oil lamp further in your face.

The floorboard groaned again as you lost your footing, tripping backwards and nearly slamming into the wall. Shit.

“Uh…” Your voice trembled, hands trembling alike as they flimsily snaked their way up to your red face.

You made eye contact with Riki again. The hammer he held was lifted high above his head now. Everyone’s just waiting for your go.

“Uh…”

Your time in this space will remain anything but nostalgic. Cold mornings spent under thin brown sheets, decades old dust infiltrating your lungs with each breath, oatmeal for breakfast and beatings for lunch—none of it deserves to be a memory.

The only moments to bare themselves in the split second of your hesitancy all included Riki. Riki who wiped your tears, who snuck around the hallways on late nights and found an empty spot next to you in bed, who slid you his meal portions when your stomach cried.

To remember that you’d have to remember the beatings, the sleepless nights, the struggle to maintain a good relationship with food. There’s so many things you want to remember but want to forget. To remember the good is to remember the bad.

You’ll always remember this. Seeing Riki in a light you’ve never seen him in before, sweat matting his hair and trickling down the scratched paint on the hammer, the scary look in his eye, his pursed lips. You’ll always remember this. Will this be the good or the bad?

The headmistress moved closer upon your silence, her eyes dim with something you wished you didn’t recognize. Your heartbeat reached your ears as she lifted her hand, and in that second your words slipped.

“N-now!”

The hammer hit the back of the headmistress’s head with a crack. The body plummeted to the floor in one big drop, her head falling by your feet and a line of blood oozing from her scalp made you shriek. The alarms went off—the front door was opened—the other kids were escaping safely and you needed to join them, yet you stood there frozen with the aftermath of your actions.

She was dead. The headmistress was dead. Riki was shouting something at you, not loud enough to hear over the alarm bells, but you just stared at an old lady’s lifeless body slack beneath you in regret.

There’s nothing to regret about this. Escape. Your mind pleaded with you. Escape. Escape.

Riki grabbed your forearm and yanked you down the hallway, leading you to escape with the others who were more than likely halfway down the escape route. His hold on you nearly slipped, his fingers were coated in sweat and it reminded you that you weren’t the one who actually did it. Riki did it.

He’s far more braver than you’ll ever be, murdering an abuser who did nothing but suck the life out of the youth who resided.

All you did was stutter a measly fucking ‘Now’.

Your breath hitched as you reached the bottom of the staircase, and the next breath was a crushing sob. Alerted, Riki whipped his head towards you with eyes wide as saucers.

“W-what are you okay? What’s the matter are you hurt?” The door was just a few inches away but he halted, his hands snaking around your jaw as his eyes searched your every part, your every limb.

Another sob wracked your body upon his touch. It hurts, it hurts. His care hurt. The police sirens sounded in the distance. Riki’s eyes shifted behind you, the red and blue lights flashing from the back door. He dropped his hands in favor of grabbing yours and dragged you out the front door.

“We’ll be okay.” You heard him whisper through the wind blocking your ears, through the crunch of the dead grass.

“We’ll be okay.”

[azrielhours]

Waiting on a Ghost

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 9k. lmao 

Synopsis: Reader moves to Windhaven before the Great War against slavery begins to help the cause. A fleeting romance blossoms unexpectedly between her and Azriel as attraction pulls them together, as they tiptoe around a bond that grows in their chests. They seek each other, and she waits to reunite with him through the war, through silence and sound, through hope and home. Inspired by the Odyssey. 

Song inspo: Yebba’s Heartbreak by Drake

Warnings: Smut. Canon typical violence. This one hurt a fkn lot lol. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There’s nothing unique about the out-of-place feeling that comes with moving. You knew there would be a sense of uprooting upon changing homes. What you didn’t know was that your new home wouldn’t be a place. It would be him.

Rumours about a war breaking out had initially seemed like conspiracies. Enslaved mortals revolting, Human Queens leading an uprising. It quickly became a reality check when the King of Hybern massacred his slaves. The threat of war lurked like a storm on its way to claim fathers, neighbours, sons, to make widows out of wives, exchanging loneliness like a transaction for its violent means.

Your father knew he would be more useful to the cause closer to the fray, which is how you wound up packing your belongings and moving to a war camp called Windhaven. Home to the aerial cavalry of the Night Court, your father explained.

Settling in was as fast-paced as the war preparations. Warriors of legendary might walked the grounds, and you quickly acclimated to the sight of an Illyrian warrior shooting down from the sky in a landing. As your father worked tirelessly with weapon making, you’d found the nearest female and offered to do anything useful. “Please.” 

She’d turned out to be a seamstress, noting your flustered state, unused to the casual prowl of the inked warriors that called this place home. She’d told you her name was Rhiannon as she directed you to meal preparations.

You did your best to ignore the stares you received during the communal dinners; the male hunger.

Rhiannon would laugh in passing at your flushed cheeks. “They’re not used to seeing refined ladies,” she’d tease. “I fear for the health of my sons when they see you.” You would rush back to work to the sound of her laughter.

One evening, there was a shift in the kitchen energy, whispers of some entourage. One of the girls informed you the High Lord had arrived. The soldiers he’d come with were seated nonchalantly amongst the usual faces you’d begun recognizing.

The High Lord was nowhere to be seen, and the warriors were no different than the rest. You gingerly stepped between the only empty seat, situated before a hulking warrior standing nearby who was turned away, occupied in conversation. You leaned forward to set your tray down, but before it contacted the table, something slammed into you from behind, knocking you forward. You braced for impact, losing your grip on the tray. Gasping in horror, you anticipated the clatter of dishes, but it never came. A hand to your left shot out instinctively, stabilizing the tray. Warrior reflexes. The table fell silent in the wake of your tumble, all eyes on you as you pushed yourself up off the table.

You turned, searching for the cause of your fall. Before you stood the warrior who’d been previously conversing; a giant, rugged mass of a male with hair down to his jaw. Red siphons gleamed in your peripherals. “I’m so sorry,” he said, hazel eyes wide. His hands were open and paused mid-reach, like he stopped himself from steadying you.

“It’s okay,” you breathed, still shaken.

“I didn’t see you. You’re so—” he brought a hand up, holding his index and thumb out to convey smallness. A laugh huffed out of you at his mild panic. He dropped the pinching gesture. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, smiling this time. You turned to assess the table. The tray… someone had grabbed it. Mid-air. You found it’d been set down by its saviour. The male seated to your left whose attention was now on you. Another set of hazel eyes.

These ones stole your breath away.

You stared and he stared right back. His golden-tanned skin seemed to glow in contrast to the darkness of his raven hair, his fighting leathers. “Oh,” you breathed. God, he was… beautiful. The most beautiful male I’ve ever seen. Pink blossomed on his high cheekbones, further accentuating the elegant planes of his face. “Thank you,” you breathed.

His head dipped in a silent nod. Shadows wafted around him as he continued to watch you. You ducked your head and turned abruptly to escape the weight of his gaze.

You ran right into a hard body. Stepping back, your eyes met with the first perpetrator. He smiled sheepishly, muttering another apology and stepping aside.

“Cassian, would you stop harassing the poor girl?” A female voice drew your attention. Lady Rhiannon. Thank God. She strode towards the table, a kind smile on her face. “I told you you’d sweep my boys off their feet. But it looks like they beat you to it.”

You stared, face hot.

“I was talking about the fall you took, darling,” she winked. “Isn’t that right, Cassian?”

“I’m very sorry about that,” he said again, brows raised in earnest honesty as he took the empty seat.

“These are your sons?” you exhaled.

She nodded, smiling fondly. “There’s one more. Rhysand, who’s just speaking to his father.”

You nodded, still off-kilter. She just chuckled, offering her arm, guiding you back. Cassian, Rhysand, and... The pretty one. They didn’t say his name.

“Azriel,” she said softly. You glanced over in question. She smiled knowingly. “His name is Azriel.”

You began blushing again. With a gentle pat on your cheek, she left you with your thoughts.

Before crossing the threshold back to the kitchen, you turned to glance at the table. Through the sea of people, you found him watching you. The shadows swirling around his head and wings were like the seeping essence of a dark angel; his eyes were clear and focused as they held your gaze.

Azriel.

~

The days passed and the males grew restless as talk of war circulated. You kept your head down, helping everywhere you could. At the end of your shift in the kitchen, Rhiannon came to personally invite you to her home for a gathering. “To keep the soldiers’ spirits up.”

“I don’t have anything nice to wear,” you patted down your apron. You’d given everything away with the abrupt move.

“You’re talking to a seamstress,” she teased. “I’m sure I have something for you.”

At her house, she had you try on dresses until you found one you liked. In your gratitude for her continuous show of kindness, you insisted on staying to help prepare for the gathering.

Guests began trickling in as the sun set. High-ranking officials populated the sitting area, and the house was soon full. You served refreshments, ushering guests in. Looking to the door for the hundredth time, you suppressed your disappointment at the absence occupying your awareness. You chastised yourself for caring, for wanting him to see you dressed up instead of frazzled in an apron, dumbfounded and speechless.

Motion on the windowsill pulled you out of your thoughts. Moving closer to get a better look, you realized what it was.

Shadows.

Immediately, you backed away, fussing with your skirts. The door opened, and in walked Cassian and another male bounding for Rhiannon. So this is Rhysand, then. At her friendly beckon, the males’ attention turned to you.

“Y/N, dear, you’ve met Cassian, and this is my son Rhysand.”

Cassian smiled down at you with wide-eyed sincerity. You returned his smile before surveying Rhysand.

His violet eyes matched his mother’s. “Please call me Rhys.” He offered a hand, tugging yours up to kiss your knuckles. “You’re the new lady, aren’t you? The one Cassian knocked down.”

Cassian muttered under his breath as you laughed. “I’m not a lady.”

“You certainly look like one,” he mused.

“Where’s Azriel?” Rhiannon asked, unfazed by her son’s shameless flirting.

“On the veranda,” Cassian answered.

Rhys’s gaze turned to you once more, something suddenly sparking in his eyes that made you brace yourself. “He could use some encouragement,” he purred.

“I’m sorry?”

Cassian smiled, catching the insinuation. “He’s a little shy. Maybe you could ask him to come inside.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

Oh.

You took your tray and made your way to him.

Azriel was leaning against the wooden railing, observing the attendees occupying the grounds, wings folded tightly to his spine. A shadow curled at his ear, and he turned to face you, standing straight and tucking his hands behind his back.

His eyes tracked you as you approached him. Your stomach was doing flips beneath his stare, but you forced yourself to break the silence. “Lady Rhiannon—she told me your name is Azriel.”

A dip of the head. “It is. What’s yours?”

You suppressed a shiver at the baritone drag of his voice. “Y/N.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Were you just going to stay out here all night, Azriel?” You shamelessly indulged yourself, testing his name again. A small part of him you could borrow like sugar.

“I think I’m alright out here,” he spoke gently. He eyed the drinks in hand. “You’re always carrying a tray,” a small smile tugged his lips upward.

You matched his smile. “Except for when I drop it in front of all the soldiers.”

His smile deepened. “That’s on Cassian, not you.”

You took another step forward. “Well, thankfully you were there to help.”

Despite the command of his stature, he averted your gaze, flushing. “Don’t mention it.” He’s a blusher, then. He still smiled, tugging at your heartstrings. A beat of silence, then he said, “You’re here to help with the war efforts?”

“Yes. My father is a blacksmith.”

He nodded thoughtfully, eyes wise beyond his years. “Do you miss home?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know if… I have a home.”

He studied you. “No?” he asked softly. “No scenery or family to miss?”

You averted your gaze. “Not really. I don’t have any family besides my father.” You offered a small smile to ease the tension. “I brought my favourite books with me, that’s enough for now.”

“I’m not unfamiliar with that feeling,” he voiced, eyes scanning the crowd of warriors.

“No family?” you repeated his question.

“I have my brothers. That’s enough for now.”

A beat of silence as you both sat in your confessions.

“You’re going to fight in the war?” You asked foolishly.

His attention returned to you. “Of course. It’s an honour.”

You nodded, pain suddenly stabbing in your chest at the thought. Azriel’s shy nature was blasphemy in war. Maybe he feels as out of place as I do.

Looking around at the males, you sought to distract yourself from the sorrow you felt. Azriel noted your distressed gaze sweeping the yard, misunderstanding its cause.

“Let me,” he said, taking the tray off your hands.

You huffed a laugh. “You’re always taking trays from me,” you teased.

Azriel just smiled. “I’m at your disposal.”

As he turned to step off the veranda, you couldn’t stop yourself— “Azriel.” He halted, turning back to face you. “When you’re finished… come inside.”

Caught off guard, he stared, brows high.

You cleared your throat. “They, um… they told me to ask you to come in.”

He cocked his head to the side, a crooked smile this time. “Did they?”

You bit your lip shyly. “Mhm. I mean, only if you’d like to,” you tried.

He didn’t indulge you, holding his ground silently; a cheekier side of him that he hadn’t shown before. His crooked smile remained, eyes narrowing playfully at your slip of the tongue.

You scoffed, blushing harder. “Will you come inside please, Azriel?”

He laughed, letting you off the hook. “Alright. I’ll meet you inside, then.”

“Okay,” you said, turning on your heel before you made any more of a fool of yourself.

Inside, Cassian and Rhys immediately bounded over, displaying a familiarity with you that warmed you to the bone. “Where is he?” Cassian asked.

“He’s handing out drinks to the other warriors.”

Cassian and Rhys exchanged a bewildered look. “What?” you asked at the sudden shock.

“You got Az serving refreshments to the Illyrians?” Cassian gaped.

Rhiannon joined your group, smiling as her boys howled with laughter. She smiled at you. “Like I said. You’re bad news for the health of my sons.”

~

A week passed since the gathering. Azriel never left your thoughts. Even your father noted how you’d often zone out, gazing at shadows as evenings fell, watching them dance. Your daydreams would frequent the memories of the gathering, the shy glances on the veranda, how happy you felt when Azriel indeed came back to you.

Cassian and Rhys kept you company. When Azriel arrived, it felt like something settled into place. Like the sense of uprooting had resolved. He smiled and walked over, and you listened as his brothers told you animated story after story of all the trouble the three of them had gotten into through the years.

Your joy was cut short when Azriel got called away for something with the High Lord. You didn’t get a chance to see if he’d ask you to dance with him.

A knock on the door yanked you back to reality. You crossed your house to answer the door, but your father was already there. You peered from behind him as he opened the door, freezing at the sight of the hazel-eyed Illyrian standing on your veranda with his hands tucked behind his back. Your father asked him, “What can I do for you, son?”

Azriel dipped his head in greeting, eyes flitting to yours before addressing your father. “Sir, I have some books that belonged to my mother. They’re of no use to me. I thought since your daughter was learned, she might… appreciate them.”

“That’s very generous,” your father said, stepping aside.

“Thank you,” you breathed, reaching to take the books Azriel pulled from behind his back. Two novels. His fingers brushed against yours, and you hoped your father wouldn’t notice the blush staining your cheeks.

“You must come in,” your father said, turning to lead the way inside. But Azriel opened his mouth to object, his cheeks blushing red.

“Oh, no, I should probably get back,” Azriel objected, his eyes darting to the floor.

“He seems more comfortable outside, father,” you cut in. “Perhaps you could go on a walk with him.”

Azriel’s eyes widened, and you bit back a smile. “Well the weather is nice,” your father said, gesturing for Azriel to lead the way. Azriel looked back at you as your father exited the threshold, throwing a playful glare at you for having cornered him. You grinned brazenly, closing the door.

You spent the next while sitting by the window in your room, watching fondly as Azriel walked with your father around the grounds. You only felt slightly guilty for orchestrating it. The books he brought you were clutched to your chest like treasures. You finally broke your attention off the pair outside and opened the first novel.

The smile was wiped off your face. There was a note written in precise handwriting that fell onto your lap, and a portrait of Azriel. You couldn’t help but trace over the portrait of his handsome face like a widow, like he was yours and the longing you felt was justified. You let yourself read his note.

You said your books are enough home for you. These are my favourites, so you have a piece of my home as well.

Rhys made me add the portrait. So you don’t forget me, Y/N.

~

You’d gotten used to the routine of things, finding fulfilment in the work and bustle of the camp. Most of all, you anticipated the glances during dinners. His books sat on your nightstand. His portrait inside, his handwriting. You’d pass by tables of warriors and beam with glee, thinking they don’t know I have Azriel’s books in my room. In the kitchen, singing as you worked. They don’t know he wants me to remember him. It made you hope and dream, made the future feel less bleak.

Until one dinner, when a young boy came running through the halls. The Windhaven Messenger, bringing a letter from another Illyrian camp. “The High Lord commands deployment!”

The communal hall fell silent as the boy continued his declaration. “The King of Hybern has sent out his commanders. We set out westward tonight!”

The Illyrians immediately rose, the silence turning over as quickly as it fell. The warriors left their tables and began exiting to prepare to march to their high lord. Some were whooping in excitement, some looking for their friends, a few sending prayers above. Your stomach sank, the dishes in your hand clattering to the floor. You didn’t care, stepping over them and searching for him, for his brothers.

You found Azriel at his table, a calm force standing still while everyone around him rushed about. His face was solemn but settled. Once again, his very nature seemed sacrilege in the face of battle. A contradiction that seemed unnatural and cruel.

You held each others’ gaze, the entire camp bustled around you while the two of you stood vigil at either end of the hall, two upright pillars surrounded by a raging storm.

Finally, someone clasped Azriel’s shoulder, drawing his attention aside as he listened, likely a command from a superior. Azriel looked back once more before he followed the male outside with the rest of the Illyrians, leaving you to pick up the pieces off the floor, broken glass and broken heart alike.

When the cleaning finished, you headed back to your house. At home, you took what you needed, steeled your nerves, and headed in the direction your heart commanded before cowardice overpowered you.

Lady Rhiannon’s house. Three knocks on the door as loud as your heart hammered. You told yourself you wouldn’t mind if Cassian or Rhys answered the door. They deserved goodbyes as well, deserved your prayers and parting words.

But when Azriel opened the door, you sighed in relief. Then got overtaken with nerves all over again. “Azriel,” you breathed.

He stepped out onto the porch, jaw tense and eyes piercing. “Y/N.”

He could surely hear how your heart raced, see how you fumbled with your hands. “I—I brought you this book. To take with you.” You extended it forward.

His eyes softened. “A piece of your home.”

Holding his gaze steadily, you said, “Yes. A piece of my home.” Spoken with the certainty that only he brought out of you in this place as you drank him in like the elixir of life.

His head dipped imperceptibly. “Thank you,” he held the book with reverence, opening it. You held your breath as you bore the vulnerability. Inside the book was your own portrait for Azriel’s remembrance, and a note. You watched as his typically stoic face opened, how his eyes widened, his mouth parted.

You’d required Cassian’s aid in tracking down an alchemist to render your portrait using Dawn Court magic. Your note to Azriel was as an invitation to write to you. Permission. You stepped back on the porch, watching the men walk the ground as he read your note.

Perhaps my books aren’t enough anymore. Perhaps I’ve finally found the home I’ve been searching for.

I could never forget you, Azriel Shadowsinger.

You turned back to him, and Azriel’s piercing hazel stare flashed to yours. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Neither of you knew how to maneuver around the sentiments. You shook your head, turning to leave in the wake of bashfulness. “Y/N,” he breathed, reaching forward.

He wrapped a strong forearm around your waist, pulling you back to him. You gasped, body flush with his chest, hands flying to his shoulders. Azriel kissed you, pulling you impossibly tighter to his broad chest, so firmly to him that your feet left the ground. His other arm wrapped around you, and you melted. His lips were soft but his kisses were demanding. He pressed deeper into your mouth, leaning forward until you were set back on your feet, but you still clung to him. Your eyes remained blissfully closed as you gasped inhales, exhaling sighs into his mouth when he didn’t let up, claiming your bottom lip between his own. His hard body around yours made your head cloud over, made you breathe harder as you tried and failed to regain your bearings.

Until the front door opened again, and Azriel released your mouth. Cassian and Rhysand stepped out and walked around where the two of you remained firmly embraced. Rhysand laughed, his stride unfaltering as Cassian followed, yelling over his shoulder, “he’ll be back!”

Azriel rested his mouth on your shoulder as they strode off, as you caught your breath, still clinging to him. His arms released your waist, hands moving to your shoulder blades as he too panted raggedly. He still pressed you to his chest, his shadows dancing around your pairing. Finally, he broke off entirely, leaving you standing in a complete daze on the porch. He re-entered the house with the door open between the two of you. You watched as he slung a bag over his shoulder, securing the last of his weapons onto his person, then stepped back onto the porch. He stared into your eyes, the intensity piercing, nearly making your knees buckle.

“I’ll wait for you,” you breathed.

Azriel was still breathing hard. He didn’t say anything, just clutched onto the book. He slowly walked around you, holding your gaze, collecting his composure. Until he turned, joining his brothers at the end of the yard.

You ran down the path to where women gathered to send their men off and waited for Azriel’s unit to march on. A chorus of goodbyes and well-wishes echoed in the air, colonels organizing their men, but you could’ve sworn a soft lullaby drifted above it all as you found Azriel in the ranks. As he took you in with the same longing in his eyes that you just tasted on his lips. You heard the melody play and tried to lean into it, to let it be the last thing you felt as he marched away instead of the sorrow rapidly displacing it. I’ll be here, you vowed. And you’ll come back to me.

There was a sense of fracturing between your ribs. Perhaps your heart breaking so soon after he’d just made it dance with unity, with joy and yearning and rightness.

His gaze snapped to yours one last time. Determination in them this time. You felt it as much as you saw it. Yes. 

Azriel, you will come home to me.

Only after the Illyrians shot to the skies did you break your gaze. Pointing it further skyward, you commanded, bring my home back to me.

~

The beginning was the hardest; the jarring sense of deprivation after weeks of liveliness, of full tables and packed schedules. There were days when you’d wander the grounds, memorizing his home while he was away, searching for glimpses of the honing of his life.

You never knew silence could be so sinister.

Painful days stretched to painful weeks. Months.

News came in scattered clusters through letters received by the women. Hybern sent out his greatest commanders, Amarantha and Clythia to partake in the war. That’s what prompted the hasty deployment.

You wrote to Azriel, asking about his wellbeing, if he had any idea when it would be before he returned. If he was safe.

Azriel did not write back.

Every morning, you’d head to the communal hall where the messengers brought letters from the living and reports on the dead. You’d search for Azriel’s name in both and find it present on neither.

According to a woman whose husband marched in Azriel’s legion, the High Lord coveted Azriel for his Shadowsinging powers, that he now personally commanded Azriel. That explained the radio silence, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. The High Lord fears that his son will rival him in power, she told you, rubbing your arm. He’s separated the three boys in fear of usurping.

Lady Rhiannon would visit, would wipe your tears and shed her own. My Rhys is only 28, she once cried. She told you how Azriel had been imprisoned by his father for 11 years, how he ached to fly, what scarred his hands. She stopped when your tears made it hard to see, instead telling you about how Cassian used to hide in his wings as a child when he was embarrassed, how he played pranks on the High Lord’s council, how the boys once convinced him to swim in the nearby river and took off with his clothes.

That was in the first year. In the second year, it became less bearable to speak about Azriel. There were a few Illyrians who stayed behind, who had the gall to try to court you in his absence. One in particular, Eurymachus, was relentless. He’d find you in the communal hall and tell you, “He’s not coming back. You’re waiting on a ghost.”

The ghost of him was better than any living man.

By the third year, some women moved to a camp closer to the war, including Lady Rhiannon, whose departure was salt on your bleeding wound.

News was still scattered. The last you’d heard, there was a realm where the slaves were freed by two warriors named Miryam and Morrigan.

You prayed that brought the fighting closer to an end. Hope became a ration of war.

When days slipped by and the nights lingered, you’d close your eyes and replay the last time you touched him—the first time, the only time—his hard chest against yours. How his hands pressed you close, how he breathed directly into your mouth. So you’d slip out of bed and write to him again.

Azriel Shadowsinger,

I did not get the chance to dance with you. I never got to hold your hand, never got to walk with you. But still, I dream of the day I live out those wishes. I’ve been evicted from my home all over again. I may be inside a structure but it’s just a matter of rooms. My true home is wherever you are. I pray my home is safe, I pray it’s on its way back to me.

I feel something deep in my chest that sings to me, that feels an awful lot like an instrument. It stirs inside me like a canary in a coal mine. Maybe I’m losing my grip on sanity, but I tell myself that it’s you, that you may not write to me, but your heart sings to mine.

I did not get to say vows to you, Azriel, and maybe I never will, so let this be my first. I take you, Azriel Shadowsinger, for everything you are, in your sound and silence. I will continue to wait for you, and I will only stop when I stop breathing. Come back to me.

~

Seven years.

The war went on for seven excruciating, unimaginably long years.

Your father died in the fourth year, making the passage of time longer and shorter at the same time, making it run weird, stretching in some places, thinning in others. You’d been bedridden for months. Other women at the camp came to care for you but remembrance was a blur.

“I’m waiting on a ghost,” you’d told them once.

“Doesn’t it make sense to live for him, then? What’s the point if you’re both ghosts.” That was the day you left the bed.

Live for the ghost. Live for Azriel.

You’d learned archery. The deserters trying to court you persisted shamelessly, only growing bolder with your father’s passing. His passing also meant the money gradually ran out. The women trained you, giving you something to do with all the waiting. Gave you the means to provide dinner for the small group of you that ate together.

They all knew who you waited for. You stopped going to the hall to seek his name, only listening for the strum that sometimes arose inside your ribs, willing one back. A shout across the void. A reminder of unsaid vows.

Until one day a woman came running with a letter in hand.

It was from Cassian.

You opened it with shaky fingers. It contained three words, but three were enough.

He’ll be back.

~

It was another day of biting cold as you drew your bowstring, hunting wild turkeys for tonight’s meal. You fired with practiced aim, walking to collect your game. You were barely outside Windhaven, beginning to turn around when you spotted a male in the distance. Eurymachus, no doubt on his way to try his luck again. You scoffed, notching an arrow in your bow, steadying your aim.

You spared no mercy. “Stop where you are,” you commanded, a voice of practiced authority after years of sly men with sly tactics. “Turn around and leave this camp!”

The male slowed, raising both his arms in surrender, but he still stalked forward. “Y/N?”

“Stop where you are, or I’ll shoot!” You fired a warning arrow above his silhouette, notching another.

The male halted at last, lowering his arms. Smoke drifted off them as they lowered.

No, not smoke.

Shadows.

Your bow lowered, every thought eddying from your mind.

Your heartbeat began pulsing in your ear, almost loud enough to block out the faint lilt in the air, a song that played on the wind.

Then that strum in your sternum pulled taut and released.

Your arms went slack.

Azriel Shadowsinger stood before you. His shadows slithered tentatively towards you on the snow, halting before making contact. He looked at your bow, then scanned your face, the bewilderment in it.

“Azriel,” you choked. Azriel. Dropping your weapon, you cried louder, “Azriel!” Azriel. Azriel. Azriel. You began running to him.

Running home.

His eyes fell shut in utter relief, at the sound and sight. They opened again, surveying you with holy reverence.

You halted your running. This time, his name fell in wet whispers. “Azriel.” Azriel. His presence was like a phantom pain.

He walked towards you, that music on the wind a divine witness.

Your knees threatening to buckle. It was really him. Azriel was here. You nearly shook your head in disbelief, watching as he walked closer while your tears silently fell.

Azriel stood in front of you, letting out a deep shuddering exhale in relief. He looked utterly exhausted, but his eyes were bright and entirely fixed on you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you spoke softly, voice shaking. “Come with me. Let’s go home.”

~

Home.

Azriel fell asleep as soon as you brought him home. You didn’t touch him yet, just walked before him and tried to calm your racing heart. You took him to your room, watched as he took off his bag, his weapons, his coat. You ran to fetch him some water and came back to find him asleep on the bed over the covers. Bringing one of your blankets over him, you watched as he slept.

He was older, the contours of his face deeper. His cheekbones stuck out more prominently, his jaw even sharper. You wondered how far the lines of change also cut within, if that softness was carved out of him in the carnage and killing fields.

You wept silently by his side as he slept, wept for your youth that slipped away in the prison sentence waiting for your Shadowsinger, wept for his youth that barely made a dent in his life. For the years that estranged you, the weight of them crashing down all at once. Wept in relief for the end of it finally arriving, like the lull of sleep claiming people at nightfall.

Finally, you picked yourself up and got to work, preparing a meal for him.

You sat in the living room, doing what you’ve become an expert in over the last near-decade—you waited. The stars came out, and the Shadowsinger came down.

A kernel of youth returned to his face after resting and washing up. He’d changed into a linen shirt and slacks. He still hesitated around you, clearing his throat, standing in your space but not sitting. You rose to meet him halfway. “Did you receive my letters, Azriel?”

He nodded. “I have five. I kept them in the book you gave me. Cassian brought them to me when we were in the same camps, which was not often.”

A beat of silence. “I sent out hundreds.”

Azriel’s eyes widened. He broke your gaze then met it again. “I suspected the High Lord was keeping them from me.” He absentmindedly rubbed against his sternum. The same place you felt that stirring within. His eyes sobered. “Even without… communication, Y/N, you are what kept me sane out there. Kept me from the darkness.”

You thought of the strength you drew from him after your father’s passing. “Me too, Azriel.”

He continued. “I didn’t need written word to know the sound of your laugh. The colour of your eyes.”

The familiar yearning, the shy glances you both exchanged made you feel like your youth was creeping back into you. It was your turn. “You hiding out on the veranda,” you smiled.

A playfulness lit his hazel eyes. “You carrying a tray.” He matched your smile.

“Well, I needed an excuse to see you, didn’t I?” Tears warmed your eyes again. “I waited every day, Azriel. I waited every day for seven years for you. Longing to see your face.” His eyes fell shut, pain etching his handsome features. A longing he knew all too well.

His brows furrowed. “I fear that the time apart isn't the only thing that came between us, Y/N. I fear that the war’s changed me more than I bargained for.” An inhale. “I want only to offer you goodness, but if I had any, I fear that it’s all gone now.”

Your heart stuttered. “Azriel, I wrote to you once that I take you as you are. In sound and silence, and I’ll tell you that again right now. I take you as you are. And I know the goodness isn’t gone because I can feel it.” You traced down your breastbone.

He looked at you in astonishment. “You feel it?”

“Yes. I can feel you, Azriel.”

The edges of his lips tugged up in a smile, his eyes still wide with awe. The muteness for once felt like a sanctuary and not solitude.

After years of unspoken communication, you both acquired fluency in silence. You walked to him, standing before the hearth. The canary inside pulsed, and you sent a pulse back.

“The day we left, I thought my ribs broke from the… ache of leaving you. I felt it in my bones, a cleavage. But the soldiers, when nights were quiet, they whispered of a bond that ran so deep, it overpowered marriage.”

Yes. “I felt it too that day, Azriel.”

He nodded, gaze focused. “They say it’s like a…”

“A snap.”

He took one step closer. “So that makes us—”

“Mates,” you breathed.

Another nod. “Mates.”

Yes. That admiration stayed in his eyes.

Then, his voice softened. “I know we’ve been waiting all this time, Y/N, but… if it’s too much—I don’t want to rush you. The—mating—if you want it, or—” crimson tinted his cheekbones, reminding you of a younger Az— “If you’d want me—as your husband. Whatever you want.”

You mirrored his wide-eyed wonder as his words stripped you to the barest, most base self. To your soul. “I want you like I’ve never wanted anything, Azriel. Husband, mate, both, anything. Any capacity I get to have you, I want it.”

He nodded, the embodiment of certainty and truth. “Y/N, I want to marry you. I want you to be my wife as well as my mate.”

You nearly scoffed, but your heart was bursting with joy. “I’ve already vowed myself to you on paper.” Lost in whatever archive or fireplace the High Lord stored your letters. You felt light, felt certain like you’ve never known certainty. You beamed comfortably at him. At your mate. “The war, it’s made certain things feel… trivial. Like a wedding.” You looked away, thinking about it for a moment. The stars were your only witnesses. There were no priestesses to call on, no contracts that could bind you more strongly to each other than the binding you carried in your bones—in your soul.

Returning your gaze to his, you found bountiful patience in his eyes. “You know,” you spoke softly, “where I’m from, there was a culture nearby where all you had to do was say ‘I do’ three times, and it was enough to marry a couple.”

Azriel did not smile. He looked at you with the intensity you missed for seven years. An intensity that meant promise. You were his entire focus, and he did not yield. In a clear voice, he declared, “I do. I do. I do.”

You laughed to keep the tears abated. But you maintained that intense gaze, and breathed, “Azriel. I do, I do, I do, I do, I do I do, I—”

His lips cut you off. He took one stride towards you and wrapped an arm around your waist.

Married.

Just like that, you were married. In your heart—married. He held you to him, and the years apart were nothing. The feel of his hard body—harder than you recalled—was everything right in the world. Safety personified as he held you to him, taking care to be gentle with you. All the unspoken words were heard and felt on your lips. You broke off from his mouth, not seeking to waste a minute longer. “I have… my corset, it’s got so much lacing.”

The bond inside you sang louder than ever. You felt his desire grow, matching yours, strumming on the instrument strung across your chest bones. You turned around, moving your hair out of the way. He rested his warm hands on either side of your waist. He traced them up your back, beginning to gently pull the laces loose, helping you out the corset. Then he pulled apart the ties of your skirts, watching as they pooled at your feet.

You slumped into his body, relishing the reliability, the knowledge that he came back, that he was real. His hands gripped you into him as he began kissing your shoulder. Only your shift separated your body. Turning in his hold, you fisted the hem of his shirt, freeing it from his pants. He yanked it off at the neckline.

His powerful body had packed on even more muscle. He was littered with scars that you ached to trace. Placing your hands on his abdomen, you dragged them upward, trying to permanently etch him into your memory. His chest rapidly rose and fell beneath your fingers. You gazed at him innocently, wanting to remember how his face contorted with pleasure from your touch, from his restraint. His jaw feathered, lips parted, pupils dilated. He bent forward and kissed you again, seizing the opportunity with your craned neck. He was less careful now, pulling you firmer to him. You gasped when a hardness pressed into your stomach. He kissed down your jaw, paying attention to your neck. His kisses were hot, making you gasp and press your legs tighter together.

He reached the juncture of your shoulder, cradling your head to him as he continued his path. Then he pulled the straps of your shift to either side of your shoulders, and let it pool at your feet with the rest of your clothes.

He stepped back, looking down your form with a fervour that made you begin shaking. “You’re beautiful,” he rasped. He pulled you to him by the waist, bending to kiss your throat. Then down your chest, kissing over the bond. He slowly sank to his knees, your hands braced on his shoulders, watching as he continued his path downward. His hands slid down your form, cradling your hips, your thighs.

“I used to think of your little hands,” he said, voice guttural. “Your waist. The way you felt under my hands.”

You ran your hands through his hair, carding your fingernails over his scalp. He groaned, resting his head against your hip as you did.

“Your hands, Azriel. The way you held me. No one’s ever touched me like that before,” you exhaled, sinking to your knees, seeking to kiss him again. At his level, he kissed you so deeply that you began tilting backward. He guided you to the floor, admiring how you looked in the glow of the hearth.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he ground out. He didn’t break your gaze, even as he reached for one of your breasts. Your back arched, writhing when he thumbed your peaked nipple. When your writhing caused your legs to part, he snaked a hand between your thighs, feeling up the creamy skin til he found what he was seeking.

You inhaled sharply as his fingers spread through your wetness, easing some of the aching pressure. You couldn’t help but moan, helpless under his skilled hands as he continued to massage your apex. Then he eased a finger into your entrance, stroking in and out of you. Your head spun, brows pinching together at the euphoria. He studied you closely, your contorting features, how you moved against his hands. He bent down, kissing you, swallowing your moans as you were pulled closer to a precipice. He eased another finger inside, stretching you open as you squirmed. “That’s it,” he spoke breathlessly into your mouth. Then he curled his fingers inside you and you shattered. The climax tore through you, back arching and limbs trembling. He pulled back to watch you fall apart.

When your heaving lessened and you could open your eyes again, he kissed you. You pulled him down by the neck, wanting more of him. He moved from your side to situate himself between your open thighs, bending to rest his weight on his forearms on either side of your head. His body rested over yours. You gasped at the hardness of him pressing at the apex of your thighs. As he kissed you, you reached for the hem of his pants, fussing with them until he helped you remove them.

Utterly bare. He cushioned his length against your wetness, grinding into you while he kissed you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, giving him wider access, urging him on. He finally reached down and guided himself into you.

Your breathless writhing halted. You stared wide-eyed as he pushed the first inch into you, an uncomfortable stretch. He shuddered, jaw clenched as he restrained himself from entering further. His eyes were locked on yours, noting the rigidness, how you held your breath. “Breathe for me, sweetheart,” he spoke tenderly despite the tension in his body.

You inhaled, trying to relax. He kissed you, softly this time. His tongue teased into your mouth, working against yours. When he groaned into your mouth, you relaxed, sighing contently. He continued to kiss you, and when he tried to pull away, you chased him, wanting more. He carefully pushed his length further into you, pausing again. He zeroed in on every reaction you made to his ministrations. He continued to breathe hard, controlling himself despite the pleasure flooding him, despite the urge to sheathe himself. He bit your bottom lip, and the friction of his hard chest against yours made you involuntarily roll your hips further onto his length.

His breath hitched as you tested his endurance. His thorough carefulness heightened your need for him. With the heels of your feet, you began pressing him further into you. He exhaled in relief but tried resisting. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “I want it.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he breathed.

“You aren’t,” you lied.

He shook his head, words failing him in the wake of your tightness.

“Please,” you exhaled.

He studied you before moving his fingers to your clitoris, thumbing at it slowly. You gasped, instinctively rolling further onto him. He continued to sheath himself while his thumb rubbed against you until he bottomed out. He kissed you, holding himself in place. With him fully inside you, there was no space between your bodies. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you pulled him impossibly tighter to you, moaning into his mouth.

When you rolled your hips beneath his, he started to move, pulling back an inch and thrusting back in, working you through the movements. Pleasure overpowered any stinging discomfort as he moved inside you, stroking against spots that made your toes curl. Your back began arching on its own accord as you chased the feeling, holding him like he was going to leave again. His head fell into the crook of your neck, breathing hard against the tight pull of your entrance, how he glided with ease.

That build-up began churning in you again as he sped up his motions. You could hardly breathe, couldn’t think. Beginning, middle, and end—all things were Azriel, Azriel, Azriel. As he moved in you, you could’ve sworn your souls were dancing together, the bond between you one entity that thrummed with life. Your thighs shook from the unbearable pleasure, your head thrown back on the floor. He kissed your neck, pumping into you while your legs tightened around his waist. His audible panting was an erotic rhythm, and when he angled his hips forward on his thrusts, he hit a spot within you that sent you into another spiraling release. You clawed at his back as he continued to move inside you through your climax until you felt a warm wetness release into you, and his hips finally ebbed.

He remained tucked inside, resting his body on yours as you rubbed soothing strokes down his back. Your breathing calmed, heartrates slowing. He released himself from you, making you gasp at the sudden loss. He pulled the throw blanket on the couch, draped it over you, and lay back beside you over the animal skin on the ground. You immediately wrapped yourself into his open arms, laying your head on his chest and bringing the blanket over him as well. He held you to him, kissing your head. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

He continued to stroke your hair, the side of your neck, your back, murmuring softly into your hair as you fought off the lull of sleep. It wasn’t until you felt a distinct sensation of contentment in your chest that you drifted off, to the sound of his voice caressing you. “I’ll be your family. You’ll be my family. And this can be our home.”

You wanted to tell him that he was your home, but the peace he brought you overpowered you, dragging you to sleep.

~

When you awoke the next morning, you waited for the subdued dread to wash over you as it always did, but all you felt was a warmth in your chest cavity. You arose, taking in the space around you that’s never felt like home as it did now. You spotted your husband in the kitchen, quietly pacing as he heated the food you made the night before.

When his shadows wafted around you, he came to see you. A smile graced his beautiful face as he crouched before you to kiss your temple, muttering a greeting. You reached for your shift, dressing yourself and joining him in the kitchen.

“We forgot to eat last night,” you said.

“We’ll have it right now,” he smiled easily, taking his seat at the table where he’d warmed everything again. Turkey stew. He’s also managed to find some pastries and coffee. You began eating your fill, famished after the strenuous activities the night before. Azriel did not eat, prompting you to pause.

At your questioning gaze, he spoke. “If I eat this meal, that officiates our mating bond.”

Though your heart raced at the notion, you just smiled. “What are you waiting for, then?”

Azriel relaxed, returning your smile, the crinkles by his eyes deepening. You watched as he took a bite of your stew, watched as he ate his entire share. When he set his plate down, exhaling, the glint in his eyes made your flutter. The strum in your chest now felt like an open channel. You pushed an experimental feeling through it. Adoration. He sent it back, and you felt it course through your skin. He beckoned you over, sliding his chair back to make space for you. You padded over, sitting on the table before him. He kissed you, the restrain he’d shown last night a foreign concept. As you pulled him to you by the neck, fisting his hair in your fingers—

There was a knock on the door, halting your actions. You reluctantly pulled away, laughing at the glassy look in his eyes as he forced himself to let you go.

You opened the door, gasping and swinging it wide open at the sight of Lady Rhiannon. You threw yourself into her arms; she laughed, catching you and embracing you. You felt a warm, solid body press into your back as Azriel joined your embrace, wrapping his massive arms around the both of you. “Azriel,” she breathed, and you felt her tears wet the side of your neck as she beheld her adoptive son.

When you pulled away, you wiped her tears like she’d wiped yours countless times. “The boys are at my house. They’re home. That’s all I wanted to say,” she spoke joyfully. The two of you had made it to the end of your own battle. You nodded, promising to be right over as she turned on her heel and made her way back to her awaiting sons.

When you closed the door behind you, Azriel stepped back out of your reach. “We just confirmed our mating bond. If you want to go see the boys, we’ll have to be quick, before the frenzy.” He took another step back, his nostrils flaring, eyes screwing shut like your scent was an aphrodisiac beyond his endurance.

You laughed. Walking over to your pile of clothes leftover from the night before. “I’ll be quick,” you said, yanking on your skirt, pulling your corset over your head, lacing it tight. When you glanced at Azriel, the look of utter and complete desire in his eyes made you laugh again. His hands were fisted at his sides, and he was breathing deeply as he tried to school himself.

“I’ll walk over first, then you can make your way over. If that helps,” you offered.

“Okay,” he said, huffing a laugh at the nature of the situation.

You strapped on your bow and arrow, then blew him a teasing kiss goodbye at the door, laughing as he groaned dramatically. You walked as fast as you could to Rhiannon’s house.

Turning a corner, your bubble of contentment burst when you spotted Lady Rhiannon stopped near her house by a male on a horse. It was Eurymachus.

You walked over, notching an arrow on your bow. “How many times have I told you to leave this camp, Eurymachus?” you said.

His attention slid to you. “Looks like all your waiting was for nothing, Y/N. I see your little lover never made it back from the war. I told you you were waiting on a ghost,” he sneered.

You saw the door to Rhiannon’s house open, but you kept your eyes trained on Eurymachus. Cassian stepped out, sword in hand. “I suggest you heed the Lady’s warning before the High Lord returns.”

Eurymachus jumped, turning abruptly to face Cass, then turned to face you again, disgust on his face. “Are you his female as well? You rejected me for a band of bastard scum?”

“Watch your mouth,” you warned.

“I don’t take orders from whores.”

Cassian threw a dagger and it found its mark in his thigh. He yelped, swinging his sword, dismounting off his horse as it reared. Eurymachus reached for a dagger and threw it clumsily at Cassian. It missed its mark, nicking Rhiannon’s arm. Cassian advanced and they clashed weapons; you gasped, dropping your bow and arrow and ran to the Lady to check on her. Cassian knocked Eurymachus out with a sword to the back of his head, turning to join you at the Lady’s side.

Cassian helped her up with you, but before you could take her into the house, a pit of dread uncoiled itself deep in your gut. You halted, the breath leaving you suddenly. Cassian spotted your wide-eyed stare. “What?” he demanded, searching the surroundings for a threat.

He moved stealthily, so it wasn’t his footfalls that gave him away. But when you instinctively looked back, you spotted Azriel walking toward the scene, a look of calm rage on his face as he took it in. Before you could utter a word, Eurymachus rose from his spot, scrambled for your bow, and shot Azriel.

A ringing noise rose above everything else in the world. Rhiannon’s mouth parted as she screamed, but no sound reached you. Cassian scrambled to reach his brother, but you didn’t hear that either. You also didn’t feel the ground as it suddenly found your body, as the snow wetted your hands.

And worst of all, you couldn’t feel him anymore.

A mockery of the words that were said just hours before. Hours.

The bond in your chest flickering like a dying light.

The arrow jutted out of Azriel’s chest. He sank slowly to his knees, staring wide-eyed. Large, warm hands were the first thing you felt, and you turned in confusion as you felt a body behind yours. Purple eyes swimming with anguish met your own. Rhysand winnowed you closer to him. To your fallen Shadowsinger.

When the world rematerialized, so did your sensations. Rhiannon sobbed, Cassian demanding that Azriel stay awake, Rhysand’s laboured breathing. Cassian turned slay Eurymachus. Rhysand let go of your arms and instead grasped his mother’s gently pulling her away from Azriel who lay on his back.

You knelt beside him, your hands trembling. “No,” you breathed. This couldn’t be real. “No, Az. Please no.” You shuddered as you tried to breathe, to think— “Please don’t go. You just came back.”

You brought your shaking hands to cup his face. Blood was trickling out of his mouth with every breath, quiet agony in his eyes as he tried to wheeze around the arrow in his heart.

“You can’t leave again,” you sobbed. “You’re my home,” you whispered. You leaned over him, resting your mouth on his, crying onto his lips.

Your chest flickered once as Azriel heaved in a final breath. “I love you, Y/N.”

You pressed your lips to his, willing every ounce of love, devotion, yearning, and want down the bond as it slipped through your bones. Azriel’s eyes shut, peace overtaking his features at that last sensation, as your heart utterly shattered. You willed the bond back with all your might, but there was nothing.

You remained there, broken in half, crying over him until warm hands soothed down your back until Rhys picked you up gently off his brother and took you inside the house.

There was no more music in the world. Only vague noises, mutterings of We’ll take care of you, Y/N, don’t worry, and it’s gonna be okay darling, I’m here. All you could process was the stillness inside.

After all that time with your heart stretched across space and time, you found yourself once again, waiting on a ghost.

~

Two years later

Your friends gathered on a balcony. Soon after Azriel’s funeral, you’d all needed to leave Windhaven, needed to get away from the reminders of his life, of the catastrophe of his loss.

Once again, you’d given away your belongings and found yourself moving, enduring the uprooting that had nothing to do with a physical structure.

It’d taken months for you to speak again. This time there’d been no strum in your chest to help. No hope to be found, because it was too small to make a dent inside you. Until it eventually grew strong enough to be felt.

Your new family helped you. When you finally broke your silent vigil, you’d told them what he was to you. How your bond had snapped into place, how it’d taken seven long years to see through to your mating.

How you’d decreed your wedding in a cottage living room with only the Mother to see.

They’d cried tears of joy and tears of pain at the revelation, at the knowledge that Azriel had found his other half before shattering your heart and leaving you again.

Time went back to being measured through the passage of pain. That first year, you’d missed solstice, missed all celebrations, only enduring what you needed to survive. Not for yourself, but for him.

The hope that he left behind, because even in his absence, Azriel always left an inkling of life inside you, whether it was the strum of an early bond, or a kick against the inside of a womb.

It was Starfall, and the boy that clung to you was now just over a year old.

Your son.

Arion.

He inherited his father’s hazel eyes, his raven hair. He even looked at you with a certain focus that made you want to weep. His name came from an older Illyrian dialect that meant melodious song. Named after the music your bond carried on the wind.

Music that spoke when your lover was rendered silent. Music you only heard in dreams now.

Your son fussed on your hip, anxious to see the brilliance his uncles promised would light the sky. Your family gathered around you in support, in grief and love. When the stars began falling, you held your breath, feeling hints of hope creeping up on you, the feeling both foreign and familiar. “See, Ari?” you asked. “Like Uncle Cass said. Falling stars.”

The boy’s eyes were wide with wonder. He was your medicine, your healing salve. His uncles shuffled closer, supportive hands around your frame as you all hoped for a visit.

Spirits of the fallen Illyrians, their comrades shooting across the sky in death like they did in life.

A celestial body arched close by, stealing your breath away. Like a phantom pain, you felt a rattling in your chest cavity; the ghost of a strum. Rattled by a star while your baby reached forward trying to catch it.

Sapphire starlight freckled Ari’s face, and with the tears distorting your vision, you looked at your son and he looked just like him. The blue glow reflecting in his hazel eyes like the glow of siphons on a Shadowsinger. You released a strained laugh, or perhaps it was a sob, and Ari beamed.

“That was your daddy,” you whispered to your son, smiling through your tears. Ari’s eyes widened further, turning back to watch the stars.

You quietly wept, clutching Ari tighter to you, sending your last farewell to your husband, your mate, your friend down where the bond used to be. I’ll wait for you, you vowed. Waiting on your ghost, in this life until you got to see him again in the next.  

Live for the ghost. Live for Az. For Ari.

“Happy Starfall, Ari,” you breathed, smiling at your little musician, the living embodiment of your bond. Then, to your beloved, you sent out to the stars—

Happy Starfall, Azriel. I love you. I do, I do, I do.

~

taglist: @iimisty-a @feyretopia @aroseinvelaris @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @emotionless-lover @marina468 @slvtherinseeker @owllover123 @banasheefan56 @nyotamalfoy

[monimccoythings]

Under your Spell

This is during Arlong's time in the Sun Pirates, just a small oneshot. Warning: brief mention of nudity and slight sexual themes.

He hates you, that he knows it well.

You are a human, a vermin. An inferior species that has the guts to enslave his superior kind when it should be the other way around. You were raised to treat Fishmen with disdain and hate.

Yet you marvel at everything fishmen do, impressed with their strength, their underwater breathing skills and their durability.

It's all an act, he tells himself. You are trying to make them lower their guards by appealing to their egos. Well, it's not working on him. Because he's got you figured out.

It's not like he cares, because he doesn't care at all what a disgusting human like you think, but if you were going to admire fishman's superiority, he could be a prime example of that. Maybe you were too stupid to really notice.

He would watch you praise others and get this ugly bitter feeling inside his chest. He could easily crush you with one hand without breaking a sweat, out of all the crew, he was one of the strongest. And he was twice the fishman than any of them.

He didn't need your attention, he reminded himself. You are nothing but a tiny worm in a sea full of predators. Your smile may be bright like the sun but all he got was burns. He refused to stare at it for too long.

He can't wait for you to get out of this ship, and live your horrible human life, marry another horrible human and have horrible human spawn together. Yet he wanted to murder that human worker at the docks that was speaking to you too closely. But only because he smelled terrible and his dirty human smell would have lingered on you.

He had grown used to your scent, he didn't want anything tainting it or else he would have to get used to it all over again.

He wondered how you had singlehandedly managed to get nearly the entire fishmen crew wrapped around your finger. Couldn't they see that you were manipulating them? Surely you were a witch and had them trapped in one of your vile human enchantments.

He was stronger than that, he wouldn't fall for your charms like the others, he and his mates had built up resistance.

No resistance could have prepared him for what he saw that night.

It was very late, no one was supposed to be awake at that hour, just those keeping guard. And unfortunately, he was one of them.

He saw you moving quick and stealthily, like a shadow. He didn't trust it at all, so he decided to follow. Finally you were showing your true colors, you were going to betray them like the dirty coward you actually were. You just hadn't considered him being in your plans.

For a second, he thought he had lost you, then he caught a whiff of your scent coming from the baths. That was it, there was no escape from him there, no other place where you could run off to.

He quietly entered the room, ready to put an end to this charade once and for all. He just wasn't ready for what he found inside.

You. All of you.

There was literally nothing of you that he couldn't see.

He wondered how humans had managed to overpower fishmen for that long when their bodies looked so soft and squishy.

He felt blood rush into his head and other certain parts of his body. He clenched his teeth. What an embarrasment he was, getting aroused by a human being. Yet he couldn't stop looking at your naked body. How softly you hummed while you filled the giant tub with water, how delightfully perky the curve of your ass was when you leaned in to turn off the water. His pants tightened. Who the fuck took baths at 3 AM??? Why couldn't you do it in the middle of the day where everyone knew where you were and he didn't have to follow you around like a creep??

You moaned with pleasure when the warm water made contact with you skin. His hold on the kiribachi tightened to the point of nearly breaking it and his hips subconsciously buckled. He needed to get out of there. NOW.

His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. As he tumbled through the hallways of the ship, your soft moans echoed in his mind like a broken record. It was taunting him. The image of you naked in that bath haunted him everywhere he looked. He couldn't erase it from his memory.

His breath came out in short pants. He cursed you, he cursed himself, he cursed this whole damned ship that had rescued you from slavery.

He felt like he was going crazy, like he had been infected with some illness. You had barged into his mind and were slowly consuming him from the inside. There was no escaping you, you had planted your seed inside him and now it was blooming.

There was nothing he could do now. He too had fallen under your spell.

[northoftheroad]

Thoughts on NTT and TOTTT Dick trying to “change” Koriand’r?

On one hand we have kori who hates how she’s being restrained after years of being enslaved/subdued at the hands of the citadel. Her frustration is understandable in this context, especially when we take into account how prominent unrestrained passion is on her home planet. How big of a part combat at full force is in her life since she was trained by the warlords of Okaara.

But then we have dick who is saddled with the position of both lover and leader. As a leader he has to restrain starfire, least she kill someone while using the full force of her power. He must try to reel her in and show her how to abide by the laws of the planet she’s found herself on because doing otherwise is dangerous and neglectful. But as a lover he’s expected to accept her fully.

From my perspective I honestly think he did a fairly good job at balancing these things and respecting Kori (minus some frankly Ooc bs where he cheats). He seems to accept her fully while clearly outlining the things you just can’t do on earth while staying a hero.

How about you?

Hi,

Sorry, this has taken a long time. It’s a difficult question that I've never thought much about. And I guess it's a subject that can stir up a lot of hard feelings because I’ve seen people say Dick trying to change Kory was wrong of him and is a reason to hate the pairing.

Still, as you say, as the leader of the NTT, he had to make it clear if her behaviour (as in killing or using excessive violence) made her break the law or put the NTT in a difficult position. Superhero groups need to be accepted by the authorities and trusted by the public if they work out in the open.

When it comes to if their personal opinions or habits were opposed and clashed… I mean, their relationship was written to make for at least some drama, after all, 🤷🏼‍♀️ And at least for a part of their time together, Dick was subconsciously fighting being brainwashed (which influenced his behaviour for a couple of years, in “our” time; and several months in comic book-time.)

(See New Teen Titans vol 2 # 30)

Dick certainly had to make a journey to realize that he loved her enough to accept the parts of her behaviour that he found difficult. That's an important part of his/their story. And I guess most couples have to learn to adapt and make compromises. After a sometimes very bumpy ride, I think Dick and Kory ended up in a good place.

Could he have learned to accept their differences sooner? Sure, but then how would Wolfman and Perez have filled all those comic book pages?

I'm sorry if this is mostly a not-answer that doesn't say anything you haven't thought yourself…

One thing I do have strong opinions on is the cheating. In the blasted annual. That is so out of character (as I have written on several occasions, and you seem to agree) when you look at how Dick is written (especially at the time when the wedding almost happened in comics; Dick loved Kory, he takes relationships very seriously, and he and Barbara weren’t written as having any contact these years), that I honestly refuse to take it seriously.

Now, other readers are of course free to point at those particular pages in that particular comic as proof Dick is written as a bastard who should be shunned by all female characters. Or that Kory gained nothing from her relationship with Dick. We all read comics differently and chose our own favourite canon.

[cynthiahypnoslave]

Coffee Shop Control a Hypnosis Enslavement Story

Lauren thought it was just another day at the local coffee shop where she worked. Customers were lined up at the counter placing orders just like any other day. However today was about to take a very interesting turn for her.

Normally she would be behind the counter making coffee not paying much attention as customers would come and go. However when HE walked in everyone noticed. It was like the whole shop stopped just to look at the new arrival.

This was no ordinary person; he had a commanding presence she could feel from across the room. Everyone seemed mesmerized by him even the guys couldn't look away. He was well dressed and tall with handsome features. Lauren instantly felt warm and her head would grow fuzzy anytime she tried to think about anything besides the strange Man. It was as if he had the whole coffee shop under his control.

The man began to slowly look around at all the faces staring back at him almost as if he was looking for someone. That's when his eyes locked with Lauren's as soon as they did he gave her a handsome but mischievous smile. She could feel the fog in her head growing the longer he looked into her eyes the more she could feel her conscious mind slipping.

The man snapped his fingers sharply and waved his hand dismissively and everyone in the coffee shop simply went back to what they were doing before the strange Man had walked in the door. However Lauren still locked in the gaze of the man found that she still couldn't move and slowly her ability to form any thoughts seemed to wane. Lauren knew she should be scared of the man but she could focus anymore instead of fear she felt emptiness and contentment.

The man slowly and gracefully walked over to the counter where she was standing maintaining eye contact with her the entire time. "Tell me your name?" He asked calmly. "It's Lauren" She said. He smiled at her again and then stated "You will do nicely". Lauren couldn't stop staring into his eyes hanging on every word his voice the only thing ringing inside her now very empty mind.

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny silver collar with a short chain attached to it. "Come out from behind the counter Lauren and strip for me please" the man said without breaking eye contact. Lauren would have normally laughed in the man's face but the only thoughts in her mind were the man's words. She slowly walked out from behind the counter and in the middle of the coffee shop began to take off all her clothes.

The man simply stood and watched Lauren, collar in hand, as she stripped completely naked in the middle of the coffee shop. Once she was done the man said "Good girl now kneel for me". Lauren knelt down before the man now completely mesmerized and under his control. "That's a good girl now listen very carefully Lauren, when I put this shiny silver collar on you everyone will start to notice you again. However they will not lift a finger to help you as far as they are concerned you are just a slave that is lucky enough to serve at the end of my leash. Also you are going to return to a state of full consciousness for me but you will not be able to resist or disobey me as long as the collar remains locked around your neck. Now I want you to nod your head for me if you understand" the man explained. Lauren still staring deeply into the strange man's eyes begins to nod eagerly wanting nothing more than to obey the pretty words bouncing around inside her empty head. "There's a good girl" the man stated as he reached down and began securing the silver collar around her neck. Immediately after the man clicked the lock on the collar shut the fog in Laurens head began to lift. She felt the cold touch of the collar against her neck as she started to look around still coming around as she began to hear people talking about her under their breath women giggling at the sight of her and men drooling. She looked down finally realizing why everyone was talking about her. She began looking around wildly turning bright red trying to cover herself "what… what's going on???" She asked desperately to no one in particular. The man tugged on the end of her leash so she would look up at him. "You just started your new life as my new pet. Now behave yourself and stop yelling at the nice customers and sit there like a good girl" the man ordered. Lauren immediately stopped and sat next to the man's feet like a dog without hesitation. But inside her head she was screaming she had no idea what was going on and why she couldn't control her body but most importantly she couldn't understand why obeying the strange man's orders made her feel soooo good……

Thank you #laurentidal for your request hope you enjoy it!

[gh0ulkisser]

who's he?` hobie brown

warnings cats??, i didn't proofread so there's probably some mistakes lol, the n word is used once....twice... maybe three times, sexual tenison ig, shit talking ab white people LOL & that should be it... enjoy! also i don't know how british people talk soo he's american in this either hate it or love it. this is my first time writing after a while so feedback would be really appreciated.

based on the song "that's the way love goes" to some extent. was listening to it on repeat & got inspired.

and happy juneteenth to my fellow african americans!

★★★★★★★★★★★★

it's a beautiful monday afternoon. the blazing sun hitting my chocolate skin, the cool breeze kissing my cheeks making me feel relaxed. me and my friend grace decided to have picnic crowded park to celebrate juneteenth, something simple something cute.

"and my mom made these sandwiches for us." grace face lit up with a bright smile showing off the sandwiches that are wrapped in wax paper. "what kind of sandwiches are they?" i asked taking one from her hand.

"some vegetarian sandwich, my mom is on her healthy shit." she unwrapped the wax paper biting the sandwich immediately. "so what's going on with you? i haven't seen you in a while miss thing."

grace looks at me with engaging eyes. "nothing, i've been chilling that's all." i said lightly breaking eye contact. "nigga stop lying." grace yelled making people turn their heads to stare. "who's the boy?"

"there's no boy. i promi-" i got cut off by my phone ringing. me and grace both look at the contact name.

"hobie🫶"

"bitch who the fuck is hobie? and why did you put that emoji?" grace stares at the phone with a shocked face. "why are you assuming its a boy first of all, second of all i use the emoji for everyone i cherish."

"you don't have that emoji for me." i rolled my eyes. "it's not that big of deal i promise. he's just a friend." i grabbed my phone putting it on dnd. "bitch you fucking annoying." grace murmured.

"can you at least tell me about him? likeeee what does he look like.... how do you meet him?" grace asks. i shook my head. "nigga why not?" you can talk to me about anything else but this is where you draw the line?" i nodded taking a bite of my sandwich.

"oh my god! did you fuck him?" grace questions. my mouth open in shocked. "no i didn't fuck him! i literally just met him. grace please!" i unlocked my phone going straight to my camera roll to pull up a picture of him. "this is him." i said passing my phone to grace.

it was a picture of hobie and me at a cat café. his beautiful smile showing his pearly whites, the silver piercings making his face even more sexier and his thick stunning wicks.

★★★★★★★★★★★★

the four-legged animal purred underneath my hand as i softly pet it. "i want to adopt a cat so badly." i said breaking the silence between me and hobie. he looks at me and then the cat. "why? cats are evil."

"if cats are evil why did you agree on coming to a cat café with me?" i lifted an eyebrow looking at him. he smirks. "i needed an excuse to hang out with you." i blushed breaking eye contact.

"i don't know if this is a weird thing to say." i looked up at him admiring his face. so damn attractive...the things this man can do to me. "but white people are so fucking weird." he said snapping me out of thoughts.

silence...

we just looked at each other.

i busted out laughing scaring the poor innocent cat. "what made you say some shit like that hobie?" i asked and he just shrugged. "there was this white girl in my class that had the same last name as me." i paused to pet the cat calming it down. "and i just thought about her ancestors enslaving my people."

"is that a fucked up thing to think about?" i asked him as i played with the cat's tail. "yes." he said nonchalantly. we sat in silence but the silence was soothing and very comfortable.

the purring of the cat and the chatter of the customers filled in the silence. i felt him stare at me. making my heart start to pound against my chest. i then felt this hand start to stroke my thigh.

i looked at his hand then i looked at him.

"you good?" he asked in a mocking way. "mhmm." he smirked knowing i was in fact not good. "you wanna go to my place?" he squeezed my thigh. his cold rings leaving a mark on my thigh.

★★★★★★★★★★★★

"he's cute." grace said grinning. "yea i know." i finished eating my sandwich wiping the crumbs off my mouth. "so he's not your boyfriend?" grace gave you back your phone. you shook your head.

"we are only friends."

[pomplalamoose]

Heyyy!!!

whenever u have time if u could PLEASEEE write some more ANH Luke Skywalker hc 😍🥰

pls there is a a serious lack of Luke content 😪🫶🫶

Of course dear anon, here you go🩵🩵

We, as a society, need more Luke content in our lifes and I'm more than happy to deliverrrr

• Tatooine is a pretty shitty place to get to know or to date anyone, so I think the young people have their own way around that

• because you can't go anywhere without potentially running into someone wanting to rob/enslave/blackmail/hurt/kill you, I think spending time with Luke would consist mostly of doing your everyday chores together

• safety is in numbers and companionship makes even the most drab tasks seem bearable

• and nobody will notice if both of you take way longer than usual because you're so busy making googly eyes at each other

• (they do notice but Owen is mostly glad how your company keeps Luke from talking about leaving, so he doesn't mention it)

• so imagine cleaning up and sorting through the garage together

• just sitting by his side, sharing jokes while he works to fix his uncle's equipment or looks after his land speeder

• maybe, if that's your thing, you help out as well and then try your hardest to get the oil stains off your skin after while Luke laughs at your frustrated face

• probably the height of romance is going to the market together to buy ingredients for your meals with two of your fingers intertwined because it's too hot for holding hands and you're both shy

• or taking trips to Tosche station (because of course) and, with a racing heart, you slowly and carefully rest your head on his shoulder

• when he doesn't shake you off you're overjoyed

• he, on the other hand, doesn't dare to say anything, too afraid you're going to scooch away again

• so he drives more slowly than usual to have more time alone with you

• halfway there you have lunch together in the shade of big rocks and talk about everything and nothing, blushing and looking in another direction when one of you makes eye contact for too long

• and, my favorite: watching the two suns set together

• he'll bring you home after because Tatooine is even more dangerous at night

• he says goodbye with a small and polite kiss to your cheek, hoping your family won't see

• he'd notice your nervousness once aboard the Falcon

• while he isn't so sure about all of this himself he wants to seem cool and tough in front of you and does his best to keep up with Han and Chewie

• secretly he might be worried that you will end up liking Han more

• he's totally the type to get a little jealous when he sees you smiling at someone else other than him

• (there's no way Han hasn't outright flirted with you yet)

• so he does his best to keep the two of you separated and as far away from each other as he possible can

• like, no, you can't sit there, he's going to sit next to Han in the cockpit!

• no, you can't go looking for Han, he was just about to ask you a question!

• Han isn't even that funny, why are you laughing??

• he'd sulkily sit in a corner and throw looks in your direction whenever you're with Han too

• if you notice, he'll pretend to not care at all with whom you're having a good time

• but truth to be told, he's sad

• I'm not sure whether he's even aware that he's acting like that

• someone (Obi-Wan) could probably intervene at this point, but there's no way he's going to do that

• he's having the time of his life

• don't worry though, Luke's time to shine comes around when you declare how unbearably cold you are

• did you exaggerate to get his attention? Possibly

• either way it works immediately and he'll offer to sit next to you to keep you warm

• when you agree he's ready to burst with pride

• he waits until Han is looking and then drapes his arm around your figure, feeling absolutely superior

• it takes a lot of restraint to keep himself from grinning obnoxiously

• when Obi-Wan starts teaching him about the Force and lightsaber techniques however, he isn't so self assured anymore

• especially not when he's supposed to ditch or reflect blaster bolts while not being able to see

• underneathe the helmet his cheeks are burning red when he hears your laugh ring out alongside Han's

• he feels decidedly better when you start cheering him on and clapping loudly once he gets the hang of it

• you think he looks adorable when he finally removes the helmet and his hair is slightly sweaty and all over the place

• maybe, if you're feeling bold and the moment is right, you'd like to run your fingers through it under the pretense of tidying him up a bit?

• think of that scene where they hide in the Falcon's secret luggage compartment to make it seem like nobody is on board after being sucked into the Death Star

• because wo do you think you'll get pressed close to while waiting for the Empire's men to leave?

• sadly we never get to see how exactly they all fit in there but imagine half sitting half lying directly on top of Luke

• possibly he's even holding you very close, the situation totally requires it if you ask him

• you can feel his heart beating steadily but fast with how your head has to rest against his chest

• is it because he's afraid you'll get caught or can you dare to hope it's because of you?

• much later you can't take your eyes off him because he looks just a little too good in his new pilot uniform

• at this point it's probably your turn to be a little bit jealous as you are by far not the only one trying to check him out discreetly

• people shout greetings and turn their head after him wherever he goes

• (not just because he spectacularky saved their princess, although that's what you want to believe)

• and, because of the way Luke is, he'll reciprocate the attention happily, unaware of your feelings

• too bad you don't know he'd never chose anyone over you

I'm not quite sure whether you wanted just Luke headcanons or Luke x reader headcanons, hopefully I got it right😅

[the-bi-space-ace]

Daniel Jackson & Why Stargate SG-1 is the Best Show in the World

Here we go again. Listen, my obsession with this show knows no bounds and I’m going to simply have to take you through my thoughts on every character. 

Strap in. It gets long.

Daniel Jackson. Linguist and ancient aliens believer (Daniel. It really is your worst quality. Even worse that YOU WERE RIGHT HOLY MOLY) and he figured out how to dial the Stargate and get it to work. A character known for his intelligence and empathy, his moral compass and being petty as fuck. A man who pushes those around him to be better people, and to think outside of themselves. Also he has allergies which plays into a very cute intro to his character in the show where Jack literally tosses a tissue box into the Stargate to make contact with Jackson. Let’s get into it. 

We open season one with the SGC traveling back to Abydos where they left Daniel Jackson in the og movie after disaster struck (that disaster you may ask??? ….. I have no clue I haven’t watched it yet BUT I DIGRESS). There’s a problem. Aliens came through the Stargate and took one of their own. They need to talk to Daniel, to the Abydonians, and what follows is unfortunate. 

You see, they defeated Ra in the movie, a parasite pretending to be a god, and thought they were done with this villain. Unfortunately they’re facing a new one, same shit different name: Apophis - brother of Ra. And it turns out they aren’t finished with stealing and enslaving people. Now, the genre of villain they’re against is swift, cunning, technologically advanced, and ruthless. The Goa’uld. They attack Abydos and take a young boy named Skaara and Sha’re, Daniel’s wife, captive along with the SG team member. 

Ugh. Sha’re. Daniel is so sweet to her. They’re so clearly in love. Daniel Jackson has my favorite quality in a man which is that one of his primary personality traits is that he loves his wife. Ugh. It kills me that the Goa’uld took her away and he spends the next few years desperately tracking her down. The Goa’uld end up possessing both Sha’re and Skaara and it leads to Daniel Jackson rejoining the SGC and joining Jack O’Neill and Sam in SG-1. 

It’s important to note a few things about Daniel here that inform me about why he is the way that he is. He was orphaned as a child, he lost his wife whom he loved very much, and he is extremely empathetic. He basically imprints on every being he comes across that doesn’t have a family and that kills me. He’s desperate for connection and he tries to understand the motives and meaning behind everything. He cares about people. He cares about culture. He cares about respecting things you don’t understand. 

While we’re on the subject of imprinting, let's talk about Daniel and his friendships. We’ll start with Sam and Daniel. True science besties. I love every interaction between these two. It's like they found their platonic soulmate that they’ve spent their lives looking for. They info dump with each other, bask in each other’s intelligence and value it even when they have zero clue what the other is on about. Their friendship is pure and quick and beautiful and I can’t talk about Daniel without touching on how he quickly latches onto his friends and makes them important and how it makes his life fuller to have them. He does the same with Jack. They clearly care deeply for each other and Daniel finds a safe space in Jack. A space where he can push and be angry and ask questions and share how he feels and never receive rejection from Jack. Yes, they fight and argue and disagree but it is (typically) a safe disagreement where they’ll mend anything they hurt. Then there’s Teal’c. Teal’c, the man who is… kind of responsible for taking Sha’re from him. A man that Daniel wants to hate but can’t. Because Teal’c is a changed man. A man who had little choice. A man who Daniel has come to recognize as a friend and ally. This. This is big for Daniel. 

Imagine. Your wife is taken from you. The man responsible for choosing her to take is now saying he is going to help you defeat your enemies. He lives on earth with you. He is treated as an honorable man and warrior. He is part of your team. Your everyday life. And you forgive him. You forgive because it’s the right thing. You forgive because you know it’s not his fault. You forgive because your heart is big enough to do so. To not assign blame where it’s unfair. That is Daniel Jackson. That is who he is. And fuck do I admire this in him. If it were my partner taken, life stolen from them, parasites taken over their body and using them to harm people. If I had to look at the man who chose her every day I might not be so forgiving. I might not have it in me to see a difference. This quality is something I admire because it is something that would be excruciating for me. 

Speaking of excruciating things: watching Daniel’s face when someone he loves is in danger is like getting stabbed through the heart. One of the moments that sticks out in my mind is when Jack and Teal’c are trapped on a submarine that is being overrun by Replicators. Their only hope at not letting these bastards take over the earth is to blow it up, with both of them on it. Jack tells them to prepare to do it and Daniel is immediately against it. Jack takes his helmet off so he can hold the camera up so Daniel can see his face, can talk directly to him, and tells him to do it. When Daniel, in desperation, pushes again Jack reiterates that he does not want to die by the replicators. He doesn’t want his life to be over that way. Daniel has to let him and Teal’c go. Daniel eventually gives in but he refuses to look away while two of his friends die. (Spoiler alert is that they get saved at the last minute, thank fuck.) 

We watch this despair each and every time one of his loved ones is in danger. We watch his expression, his heartbreak, his feelings of powerlessness. He’s desperately done everything he can to keep them safe. Daniel is not a soldier. He is an academic. He doesn’t have the training that the rest of them do. He hasn’t been taught how to handle battlefields and death and loss like they have. Watching his friends get hurt or die is so devastating for him. They are his family. Losing them is like losing everything he has left, especially since losing Sha’re and leaving everyone on Abydos. His heart holds all of them so dear. 

We know he values his friendships, but what about the times he makes friends with beings from other planets? One of my favorite times is with an Unas who kidnaps him to sacrifice him. Now, Daniel spends a lot of time trying to communicate with this Unas. He shares food with him, talks, they play games. All while he’s being dragged through the wilderness to be slaughtered. He starts to understand the Unas, to learn that he has a connection with this one. Eventually this connection is what saves him in the end. Daniel even goes on a rescue mission to save this Unas when he gets captured in a later season. 

Then we have Reese. Oh, Reese. I liked her. She was an android responsible for creating the Replicators, a dangerous villain in later seasons of SG-1. Daniel spends time bonding with her, learning about her, and figuring out why she made the Replicators. She was lonely. She spent her life being told she was ‘made wrong’ and that she needed to be ‘fixed’. She was sad and emotionally uncontrolled. I’m about to be annoying about this but this is why Daniel bonds so well with her. She was lonely. She wanted friends. She wanted kinship. Daniel so desperately wants these things. He’s so lonely, has been since childhood. He sees himself in her. And when she dies he’s heartbroken. It’s the first time you hear him cuss at Jack, a line that will live in my head forever: You stupid son of a bitch. Now, Jack isn’t stupid. Daniel knows this. Daniel is angry. But Jack was just trying to protect him, doing the thing he does to show his love, and it was rejected. This moment stings. It stings because of the context. It stings because of when it happens. It stings because of what happens only a few episodes later. 

Daniel dies. Daniel dies because of his empathy and action. He dies protecting people. He dies. And it’s heartbreaking. Watching everyone say goodbye to him is one of the most tear-inducing moments so far. (I cried for… a long time.) Teal’c honors him in a way culturally significant to him with tears in his eyes. A man that is usually stoic and a strong silent type letting himself mourn a friend he’s grown to love. Sam cries and reminds him that she loves him and she wishes she could do more for him. He can’t even respond to her at that point but she sits with him and takes in what little time they have left. And Jack, well, he makes a joke. He tries to be serious about it but it’s too uncomfortably close to talking outright about his feelings so he makes some joke about how Daniel has been a pain in his ass for five years and despite all of that he has grown to admire the man that Daniel has become. It’s so painfully Jack O’Neill that it’s charming and gets Daniel to smile. (CAVEAT Daniel is not like… dead dead… I’ve been informed that he returns and my sadness over it is only temporary since the character will be back soon… and yet I still cried for over an hour over him.) 

The worst part is that there is a chance for him to be saved. But he stops them so he can ‘ascend’ and ‘do more’. And how does he stop them? Well, he talks to the one person he knows will respect his decision, the one person he knows will let him go, the one person he knows he can trust to have the responsibility to take care of it. Jack. He tells Jack to let him go, to make them stop, to let Daniel move on. And Jack, despondent and unhappy as he is to do it, does. It is horrible to watch. Daniel standing in front of Jack, crying, telling him he’ll miss everyone while Jack says ‘yeah. Me too.’ and lets Daniel go. Ugh. It kills me. He says at some point during the episode that his life is worth no more than anyone else’s. That he hasn’t done much. He’s not done enough to help. Oh boy. He’s so wrong. He’s so unbelievably wrong it hurts. He’s an idiot. Not enough? Daniel, sweetie, you’ve given your life to this. You’ve saved civilizations, saved earth, saved Skaara, what more do you need to know that you have done miraculous things? His low self esteem hurts me here. He doesn’t believe he’s done good, that he is good. How does a man who has given his life to this cause think so little of himself? Well, I think it stems back to his parents. 

Goodness. I believe his parents loved him more than the moon and all the stars. I believe they raised that boy with attention and affection and love and care and it is a damn shame that they died. It’s a damn shame they died at the same time. It’s bullshit that Daniel watched it. He watched both of his parents die when he was around 10-12 years old. He became an orphan in an instant. He went from two loving parents to the foster system in seconds. Now, he didn’t have to go to the system. He had a grandfather that could have adopted him but the man didn’t. He had a career more important than Daniel. I wouldn’t make the same choice if it were me. Hell, this little baby lost everything in a day and he needed someone. He needed love. He needed a home that was familiar. And instead of taking on the responsibility, instead of working through his anger and helping him cope you left him. My sympathies lie with Daniel here because I love him so deeply so I get angry when I think about little Daniel having a family member that could take him and instead being given up because of… what? A career? Some things are more important. (Sidenote that I am not condemning people for prioritizing themselves instead of having children… I am not ever going to have children and that is completely of my own free will and choice and wants and needs. What I am saying is that Daniel’s grandfather chose to leave him for the sake of himself and I think this rejection is where Daniel’s low self esteem comes from.)

His grandfather’s rejection is the start in a long line of rejections. Rejection from his peers, rejection from superiors, rejection from society. He finally finds somewhere he feels he belongs (Abydos) and that is gone too. In the blink of an eye. He thinks he isn’t good enough. And I think that blows. (Another side note that I think Daniel has at least ADHD if not also Autism and since I have both of those things I get really fiery about Daniel so… I’M BIASED OKAY.) He spends the rest of his life searching for connection, community, love. Hell, he even tries to infodump to Jack in episode one and faces yet another rejection of his skills and interests and I can’t help but feel like that hurts. Now, Jack does this song and dance often throughout the show with Daniel but it starts to feel more like they’re purposefully winding each other up and not like Jack is trying to hurt him. But… a different post for a different day. 

Now, I won’t lie. I am super drawn to characters like this. I had a huge crush on Milo from Atlantis as a kid and Daniel is very very close to that character in a lot of ways. The floppy hair, the glasses, the nerdiness, the excitable way he talks. So… I’m a little biased… but this character… this character rules. He’s sweet and kind and sometimes so petty it makes me laugh. He’s funny and charming and GOSH I JUST LOVE HIM OKAY. HE’S STUPID CUTE IT MAKES ME MAD. But. He has flaws. Flaws that make me like him even more but flaws nonetheless. He can be one track minded. He takes things into his own hands and puts himself in danger and puts his team in uncomfortable positions because of it. He lets his emotions get the better of him. He compartmentalizes by throwing his all into things like working and solving something. He’s a great man. But he’s confused and scared and has such low self-esteem it hurts. 

His flaws are on full display when he puts himself in immediate danger to stop Jack from destroying a ship that is about to wipe out a civilization that they helped get a new home for. Daniel has talked to this person, knows that he can prevent two civilizations from being destroyed, but Jack is focused on helping the one they’ve already connected with. Daniel disobeys Jack’s order. He puts himself in the path of an explosive in order to convince the other person to cease unintentionally destroying the planet in order to find another solution. While Daniel does succeed and it is the right thing he still puts Jack in a situation where he has to choose to sacrifice Daniel if he is to complete their mission and save a whole group of people. It isn’t fair. It hurts Jack, pisses him off, but Daniel isn’t putting that piece of it as his top priority. He’s putting saving two whole civilizations of history, art, and passion as his top priority. He doesn’t think past the consequences of what he’s doing. 

Another case like this is in season one, The Torment of Tantalus, where they find a device that contains information well beyond our wildest dreams. ‘Meaning of life stuff’ as he likes to say. He values this preservation of history and knowledge. Even more than his own life. His one track mindedness here almost gets him killed. Jack begs him to go, tries to force him, but Daniel refuses and again forces Jack to make the choice to leave him behind and get everyone else to safety. Now, Daniel does end up following and getting out of there but it does take him a little bit of time to come to the conclusion that he does have to leave. He can’t just give up his life to stay behind on a planet about to be destroyed by a storm. 

I want to touch on his pettiness for a moment because it is damn entertaining to watch him get… petulant for lack of a better word. I have never seen a man more willing to mouth off to high ranking government officials or question his bosses or down right taunt someone holding him captive. He will say some stupid joke in the driest tone I’ve ever heard and all I’m thinking is: yep this is the day he gets punched in the face. This is it. They’re going to do it. This man does not know when to shut up. My dear, sweet boy sometimes you have to SHUT UP!!! Self preservation, Daniel! Ever heard of it?!?! By far the best part of his pettiness is the looks him and Sam share when someone says something stupid. Some high ranking officer saying something stupid or derogatory? Sam and Daniel are sharing a ‘do you hear this guy?’ look. Someone being a bit too mouthy for their liking? They’re side-eyeing each other. They are true best friends. Having silent conversations with one another while everyone else in the room argues. I love their very first meeting. Sam geeking out over the dialing device while Daniel watches her like ‘who is this and why is she literally the most amazing person I’ve ever met’. Them interacting that whole first episode is just the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. They are best friends, your honor. I cherish them.

Daniel, above all, is the definition of what it means to have a found family. His was taken from him and he spends his life finding a family again. The great thing is that he does find it. He finds it and he holds on so tight. I’m still working through the seasons of Stargate but Daniel is an interesting and beautiful character. He’s traumatized and sad but he’s also wonderfully complex and still learning. 

If you haven’t watched Stargate consider this: the found family trope runs rampant here. There’s plenty of content to watch, plenty of relationships to explore, and plenty of things to be said about this show. Plus, you could write some damn good fic about it if you wanted to :)

[reallypleasanttree]

Hello 😊 another Obamitsu AU, could you imagine them in Gladiator that Obanai lost his family the Rengokus, then gets captured and sent to the coliseum and he meets Mitsuri who helps him kill Muzan the one responsible for his family’s death?

Alright, let’s see what I can craft. It is primarily based on the wiki summary cause I haven't watched Gladiator in 15 years at least.

It opens with General Obanai Rengoku leading an attack on a rebel group. During the final battle one of the other generals, Muzan, nearly sacrifices a large group of soldiers, however Obanai stops him and berates him for acting rashly. When he wins the war, Emperor Ubuyashiki decides to gift him with anything he asks for. Obanai asks to return to his family. Emperor Ubuyashiki agrees, but asks for Obanai to come to the capital to serve as a senator or another high ranking official, which could make him a candidate for emperor. Muzan overhears the conversation and murders his cousin secretly. He vows to take revenge on Obanai for shaming and nearly stealing his chance to become emperor. 

Muzan becomes emperor and demands Obanai continue serving him as a general.  Obanai refuses and is framed for Emperor Ubuyashiki’s murder. They arrest him, but he escapes in the middle of the night. He makes it to the Rengoku estate, but Shinjuro, Kyojuro, and Senjuro’s bodies lay at the front entrance. Obanai buries them beside Ruka. He wishes them well and explains he has to leave otherwise he will be executed. He thanks them for adopting him when he was 12. On his way out of town, he’s arrested and enslaved. He is sold to a high ranking noble, Hantenngu, and is placed under a gladiator trainer, Akaza’s care. 

Obanai, begrudgingly, trains and fights in the local gladiator tournaments. He is able to fuel his rage into winning each fight. The locals start calling him “The Slayer”. 

 On the flip side, Muzan decides to honor his deceased cousin, Emperor Ubuyashiki. The populace never cared for Muzan, so he hosts a gladiator tournament that will last three months. Akaza learns of this and explains how he used to be Muzan’s gladiator, but Ubuyashiki freed him. Akaza encourages Obanai to participate in the games to earn his freedom. Hantengu is instructed to bring all his gladiators to the capital. His gladiators include Obanai, Tengen, Gyomei, and Sanemi. 

Obanai wears a helmet to prevent Muzan from recognizing him. In the first battle, they reenact the battle that Obanai won months prior. The gladiators reluctantly follow his commands and they win. Obanai sees Muzan sitting in the emperor’s chair and glares at him as his grip tightens on the blade’s hilt. Muzan is intrigued by the leader of the gladiators and goes down to the field. He brings Ubuyashiki’s young son, Kiriya, and his nanny. 

Muzan demands for Obanai to remove his helmet. Muzan laughs and orders Obanai’s execution. The crowd starts chanting Obanai’s moniker, “The Slayer” and Muzan takes back the order. He promises Obanai that he will not survive the tournament while Obanai whispers he will have his revenge for Muzan murdering the Rengokus. Muzan leaves with Ubuyashiki’s son and the nanny. She briefly makes eye contact with Obanai and he swears he’s met her before. 

During the night, the nanny visits him. He finally remembers she was Emperor Ubuyashiki’s wife’s maid, Mitsuri. She offers to help him to get revenge. He cannot trust her and demands that she leave before she can explain anything. Over the next few weeks, Mitsuri leaves him presents (food, weapons, ointments, and medicine for his wounds). By the second week, Obanai agrees to meet her. Mitsuri reveals that the Rengokus freed her from slavery as a child and helped her become Amane’s maid and eventually Kiriya’s nanny. 

Obanai empathizes with her. He reveals the Rengokus adopted him. His parents died from a mysterious illness, but Obanai survived it. His aunt called him cursed and a plague on the Iguro line. Shinjuro was visiting from a neighboring town and saw his aunt throwing him out. Shinjuro took Obanai in and taught him how to fight and strategize. 

Obanai grows angry as he remembers how Muzan ruined his life and murdered the Rengokus. Mitsuri places her hand over his and tells him she will help him destroy Muzan and restore Obanai’s freedom. 

Muzan orchestrates a fight between Obanai and Tengen. Even though they trained together, Tengen explains how Muzan threatened Tengen’s wives if he doesn’t kill Obanai. Tengen apologizes, but he won’t risk his wives’ lives over a fellow gladiator. 

During the fight, Muzan releases wolves to attack Obanai. One of them bites into his sword arm, but Obanai kills them. Obanai is forced to fight Tengen with his nondominant arm, which puts him at a disadvantage. Tengen tries to overpower Obanai with brute force, but Obanai is able to knock Tengen to the ground and holds the blade to his neck. Muzan orders Obanai to kill Tengen. Obanai debates whether or not to kill Tengen, but ultimately decides against it. With this act of defiance, the crowd erupts with applause and chant Obanai’s name. This angers Muzan and he demands one of his spies to kill Obanai. Kokushibo, his secretary, advises against it as Obanai will become a martyr if he’s killed. Muzan cancels the order. 

That night Mitsuri visits Obanai and redresses his shoulder wound with a cleansing salve. She tells him Amane wants to meet to get his account of the late Emperor Ubuyashiki’s last moments and any evidence they could use against Muzan to dethrone him. He agrees to meet them the next night. Mitsuri and Obanai talk about what Obanai wants to do after he is freed. He explains he wants to go back to the Rengoku estate and live out his days away from the corrupt capital. Mitsuri hints at wanting to join him and they kiss. 

Unfortunately, one of Muzan’s spies overhears the plan. Obanai goes to the meeting place the next night. Muzan’s spy shows up and tells him Mitsuri, Amane, and Kiriya were put under house arrest for conspiracy and attempted assassination of the emperor. The spy proposes Obanai challenge the emperor to a duel. If Obanai wins, Muzan will release the prisoners and Obanai, but if Muzan wins Obanai will swear loyalty to him and forget this conspiracy nonsense. Obanai agrees. 

Days later, Obanai is preparing for his duel with Muzan. The crowd is chanting Obanai’s name which enrages Muzan. Before the fight, Muzan visits Obanai and stabs him in the back. Muzan tells him Mitsuri, Amane, and Kiriya will see Obanai fall along with their hopes to dethrone him. 

In the arena, Obanai and Muzan begin fighting. Despite his wound, Obanai is able to disarm the emperor. Muzan looks to the crowd for assistance, but they chant Obanai’s name in support. Obanai stabs Muzan’s heart with the crowd’s approval. Obanai calls out to the crowd to release the gladiators from their shackles, reform the senate, and place Amane as Kiriya’s regent until he comes of age. 

Mitsuri races down to the arena to join Obanai. He collapses and she holds him. She talks about what their future could have looked like. They could have married, lived on the Rengoku estate, and raised a family away from the capital. They could have lived peaceful lives. Obanai promises to wait and marry her in their next life. She agrees and he dies imagining the life Mitsuri dreamed of. 

The scene cuts to the modern day where Mitsuri and Obanai are sitting in a cafe with two of their children.

[purble-turble]

Read that one “Mac and Azure kidnap Wukong together” AU idea and wrote a lil ficlet for it.

All things considered, the farmer’s life was nice. Peaceful. Relaxing, even.

Azure Lion was happy here. It wasn’t his ideal lifestyle; but it was good. The labor required to farm their food wasn’t too difficult for him (if anything, the hardest part was being gentle enough that he didn’t tear the leaves off a carrot while yanking it from the ground) and the isolation was calming.

It was home. Just for now, not forever, but it was home.

“Oy, Azure!” Macaque yelled out to him. He was holding a pot and mixing it with a spoon held by his tail. “Hurry up and get inside! I’m already halfway done with dinner over here.”

“Coming!” He called back, picking up his basket of root vegetables to join the shadow. “You know, gardening would go by a lot faster if you just had your clones do it.”

“And let you slack off all day as I do all the hard work? Nice try, Bud.”

Azure rolled his eyes before placing down the basket in the small kitchen and wandering into the bathroom to freshen up.

“All freshened up?” Macaque asked when he came back into the dining room.

“I tried to be quick about it.” Azure said as he caught the dishes Macaque tossed him, going to set the table. “Where’s Wukong?”

“That’s a dumb question,” Macaque snorted as he started bringing out the food. “He’s in the nest. I tried to take him out for awhile but he’s in another mood today.”

“Don’t be rude. You know how hard this is for him.”

“Well maybe he wouldn’t be having such a hard time if he just got with the program.”

“Macaque!”

“We’re both thinking it!“ the monkey snarled as he slammed the final, steaming pot down. “If he just got his shit together we wouldn’t even be here!”

“I know that! But the sickness in his mind-“

“Oh, again with “The Sickness”-“

“He does not know what he wants, Macaque. We must be patient with him. You know what they did to him.”

Macaque’s jaw snapped shut with a click, shifting his head to avoid eye contact. Azure Lion sighed, rounding the table to gently grip Macaque’s shoulder.

“I want him back just as much as you do. And it’s easy to blame him for what happened during his enslavement to the Emperor. But Macaque, it’s not his fault.”

“…sometimes, it feels like he’s choosing not to be himself.” Macaque mumbled, staring at the table.

“Macaque-“

“He’ll just. I’ll see him go for the throat of a demon he’s fighting or start laughing at a dumb joke or just stare down an enemy with that twinkle in his eye and for just a second he’s there.”

“I’m sorry, Macaque.” Azure Lion sighed, and Macaque’s head snapped up in shock.

“What?”

“I’ve been trapped in that scroll for so long, but you’ve been trying to find and save him for centuries. It’s easy for me to judge you for losing your temper with him but I was never put into the position you were of watching him whither away. I’m sorry.”

“…okay, yeah, same.” Macaque said, chuckling as he shrugged off Azure Lion’s hand. “I can’t get pissed off at you for just trying to help. Now let’s stop the mushy crap and get dinner started already. You mind getting Peaches? I’m gonna check to see if we have any wine left.”

“Of course.” Azure smiled, passing Macaque as he walked down the stairs. “See if we have any peach-flavored left.”

“I’ll see what I can do!”

Azure smiled before turning to the door, taking a deep breath and summoned his sword. He started unlocking the first of many locks.

Hopefully Wukong would be calm enough to have dinner without starting a fight.

Aaaaaa Anon this is freakin awesome!! Yes, thank you for sharing this I love it 😍😍😍

Such a good inclusion of Azure insisting that Wukong is not himself and needs them to save him. I adore that motivation for these yandere type villains, and it’s something I find especially fitting for the likes of Macaque and Azure.. they just want him back to the way he is supposed to be, after all~