#anon seeks beta

[lightningboltreader]

Hiiiii! I’ve recently started writing fanfics in this fandom. Unfortunately, none of my beta readers are connected or interested in our firefam :((

So I was wondering if you have any idea where we could find our lovely beta readers in this fandom?? I’m more than willing to return the favour, no strings.

Is there any forum when we could sample our works? Or just list out our fics and seek someone?

If you could let me know about it, or just point me to someone who can do that, it’d be greatly appreciated! Thank you xx

Hi and welcome to the community, I’m so glad you’re here!

We have a whole bunch of fantastic betas across the fandom and I bet we can use this post to connect you to one.

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Are you a beta with availability? Please help! 💛

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I am not aware of a general 911 Lone Star forum for writers, but if your work is Tarlos-centric and you’re 18+, I encourage you to check out the Tarlos Weekly Prompts Discord Server. This is @chaotictarlos’s community of writers and cheerleaders, and includes brainstorming, fic sharing and beta request channels.

You may also find a good beta match by seeking out those credited with beta reading others’ 911 LS fics, or asking the writers who they use.

But today I’m asking my mutuals who are interested to reblog or comment so that you can reach out to them directly.

Thanks for the ask and good luck!

[velarisdusk]

Velvet Whispers, Midnight Truths

Eris x Reader, Azriel x Reader

<- part 1 word count: 9.6k content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, eris does pull out!, casual sex, hurt/comfort, jealousy, unintentional ghosting after sex, avoidable misunderstandings ] summary: After Azriel vanishes on a mission the morning after your first night together, the silence between you grows unbearable. A reckless encounter with Eris in Autumn cuts deeper than intended. author's note: finally finally got around to this!! quite excited >:) thank u to these two lovely anons <3 <3 and thank u @halo-hanging for the beta read :D ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

The memory stung more than you wanted to admit. It had been early morning when Azriel had slipped from the bed, his movements practiced and careful not to disturb you. His whispered explanation of a scouting mission had barely registered in your half-asleep haze, and by the time you’d stirred fully awake, he was already gone. No goodbye kiss, no lingering touch—just the faintest trace of him left in the sheets. You’d told yourself it was fine. That he’d come back, and everything would… shift. Settle. Finally align. 

Except it hadn’t.

When he returned a week later, you spotted him almost immediately. The heavy oak doors of the River House had swung open, and there he was, stepping through with his usual lethal grace, his shadows clinging to him like a second skin. Relief had surged through you, but instead of rushing to him, you’d chosen to wait. You’d stayed where you were, lingering near the wide windows in the sitting room, pretending to read while stealing glances toward the main hall. You wanted him to find you. Wanted him to seek you out. 

But he didn’t.

Instead, he disappeared into Rhysand’s office for what felt like an eternity. When he emerged, his steps didn’t carry him to you. No, they carried him to Cassian and Feyre, who were chatting in the dining room. You could only listen as the tension from whatever mission he’d been on melted away with easy laughter. It wasn’t a hurried reunion—it was leisurely, calm. He didn’t look like a male in a rush to be anywhere. Least of all with you.

You’d waited until the knot in your chest grew unbearable before retreating to your room. Maybe he’d needed more time. Maybe he’d come to you later. But “later” had turned into another departure, another week, and still, no words had been exchanged between you. 

By the time he returned again—two weeks this time—you weren’t even there to see it. Your emissary duties had taken you to the Autumn Court. Beron’s pompous attitude grated on your nerves, but the work was important, and you were good at it. At least it kept your mind off him. For the most part. 

Your task with Beron had been routine: negotiations, discussions, nothing out of the ordinary. But as you left the meeting room, your feet carried you to the kennels. You weren’t sure why, only that the thought of seeing the hounds felt… grounding, in a strange way. The hounds, you told yourself. Definitely the hounds. 

That was when you saw him. 

Eris stood among the dogs, his polished appearance at odds with the unruly creatures surrounding him. The hounds bounded toward you the moment you stepped inside, tails wagging furiously, their excitement a stark contrast to your hesitant mood. Eris turned at the commotion, his golden-red hair catching the light, his expression shifting from mild annoyance to something softer when he realized it was you.

“Well, well,” he drawled, his usual cockiness evident, though there was a flicker of genuine warmth beneath it. “To what do I owe the pleasure, emissary?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the hounds’ boisterous antics interrupted, doing nothing to ease the anxiety knotting in your chest. Eris’s sharp whistle cut through the air like a blade, silencing them in an instant. 

“Out,” he commanded, his voice low and firm. They trotted out with military precision, their obedience almost unsettling. The space fell silent, save for the distant rustle of straw and the faint, earthy scent of hay carried on the cool air. Something about the way he held himself—the confidence, the control—made your spine tense. You tried to ignore it, but sharp eyes caught the way you stiffened. He didn’t miss the subtle change in your scent, either. 

“Careful, (y/n),” he murmured, a wicked smile curling at his lips. “You’re giving yourself away.”

Your denial was quick, but flimsy at best. “I came to see the hounds, Eris. That’s all.”

He tilted his head, studying you with a knowing look. “The hounds,” he repeated, his tone dripping with amusement. He stepped closer, the hay crunching beneath his boots, and gestured toward the empty space where the dogs had just been. “Well, you’ve seen them. What now?”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your racing thoughts. “I… wanted to talk.”

“Talk?” His brow lifted, but his smile didn’t falter. “How rare.”

His teasing made your resolve waver, but you pressed on. “I need to… step away from this, Eris. From us.”

The smile vanished. For a moment, he said nothing, his sharp features unreadable. Then, as if savoring the words, he let out a low hum, laced with something between amusement and disbelief. “Step away, is it?”

Eris’s words hung in the air, heavy with challenge. His eyes—sharp, assessing—didn’t waver as he stepped closer, leaving only a sliver of space between you. 

You should leave. The sensible part of you screamed it, begged you to turn on your heel and go. But his scent—woodsmoke and something faintly spiced—clouded your judgement. Or maybe it wasn’t his scent at all. Maybe it was the knowing glint in his eyes, the cocky tilt of his mouth, daring you to deny what you wanted. 

“I shouldn’t be here,” you muttered, though the conviction in your voice wavered. 

“Maybe not,” Eris said, his tone maddeningly smooth, “but you are.” His hand rose, brushing a strand of hair from your face, the lightest of touches that made your skin hum. He studied you in the silence that followed, his gaze dragging over every subtle shift in your expression. “If you’re going to leave, do it,” he said. But his voice softened on the next breath, low and knowing. “But don’t pretend you don’t want this one last time.”

Your heart thudded painfully against your ribs as you stared up at him. His gaze was sharp as ever, the faintest flicker of amusement still lingering beneath the undeniable hunger. 

“You’re insufferable,” you said finally, the insult more breath than bite. 

“Mm.” He smiled, sharp and wicked. “And yet, you can’t seem to stay away.”

The silence stretched between you, taut and expectant, before his gaze flicked toward the back of the kennel. Without another word, he turned, heading toward a pile of hay nestled in the farthest corner. You stayed rooted in place for a moment, watching as he crouched and ran a hand through the golden strands as if to inspect them. When he glanced over his shoulder at you, his expression was almost bored.

“Well?” he drawled, arching a brow. “Unless you’d rather the floor?”

You scowled but followed, your steps hesitant. The pile of hay looked clean enough, but still, your nose wrinkled as you neared. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Eris turned, settling onto one knee as his lip curled into that smirk again. “You think I’d lay you in used hay?” His tone was flat, matter-of-fact, as though the mere suggestion was absurd. “I might be insufferable, but I’m not a brute.”

Your lips parted, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but the way his eyes locked onto yours made the words falter. His hand extended, beckoning you forward with a confidence that left no room for doubt.

“You can’t winnow us somewhere less… rustic?” you muttered, even as your hand slipped into his. 

“And miss the chance to make this our grand finale?” Eris drawled, his lips curling into a sly, teasing smile. “No, this will make a far better story.”

When he guided you down beside him, the hay was softer than you expected, its faint scent of sun-dried grass mingling with smoky spice and a crackling fire. Eris leaned closer, his breath a soft caress against your ear as he murmured, “Clean enough for you?” he asked, his tone low, laced with that infuriating edge of mockery.

His voice rippled through you, and any complaint you might have made dissolved the moment his lips captured yours—firm and deliberate, each brush of his tongue commanding your focus entirely.

You breathed him in, fingers curling into the front of his shirt as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss with a confidence that left you reeling. His teeth grazed your lower lip, a teasing nip that sent a jolt of heat through you, and the low hum of satisfaction in his throat told you he’d felt it too.

“Still thinking about leaving?” he murmured against your mouth, his hands settling on your waist with an unyielding possessiveness that felt both infuriating and impossible to resist.

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your chest heaving. “You think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

He smirked, that infuriatingly arrogant smirk. “Only because you prove me right every time.”

Before you could deliver the retort burning on your tongue, he shifted, guiding you to lie back against the hay with maddening ease. The golden strands cradled you, the faint crackle beneath you a reminder of how absurdly reckless this was—and yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. 

His fingers traced your jaw, trailing down the column of your throat with deliberate slowness. “You know,” he said, his voice like silk, “there’s a certain poetry to this, don’t you think?”

You raised a brow, feigning disinterest despite the way your pulse quickened under this touch. “Poetry?” Your fingers tugged at his collar, your knuckles brushing the smooth, pale skin of his neck.

He tilted his head, his smirk small but sharp. “Or maybe just irony.”

“Irony,” you repeated flatly. 

His thumb brushed the hollow of your throat, and his eyes flicked to yours, gleaming. “You, wrapped up in me. Here.”

A beat passed before you rolled your eyes, heat rising to your cheeks. “Only you could ruin this with your talking.”

That laugh that rumbled from him was low, molten. “Then stop me.”

Grabbing the lapels of his jacket, you tugged him down, crashing into a kiss that was nothing short of fierce. He met you with equal intensity, his hands steadying at your waist as if to ground you. The hay crinkled beneath you as you shifted, your grip tightening on his jacket before you pushed, rolling him onto his back. The surprised sound he made was swallowed by a chuckle as you followed, your thighs straddling his hips, pinning him down. 

The smug glint in his eyes as you settled atop him only spurred you on, your fingers threading into the fiery copper strands of his hair. You tugged, just enough to make his breath hitch, and his hands slide from your waist to your thighs, gripping with a firmness that set your skin aflame. Pressing further into the makeshift bed of hay, your breaths mingled between kisses that were nothing short of bruising.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” you murmured against his lips, voice low and teasing though your own pulse raced. 

“And you aren’t?” he shot back, his voice roughened by desire, though his smirk faltered as you ground your hips down against his. His grip on you tightened, his fingers digging in as if to keep himself tethered to some semblance of control. 

“Careful,” he warned, though there was no real menace in his tone—only the sharp edge of barely-held restraint. 

You leaned down, your mouth grazing the shell of his ear as you whispered, “Make me.”

For a moment, his restraint seemed to snap, tension giving way to something raw and unapologetic. In one fluid motion, he reversed your positions, his strength evident in the ease with which he pinned you beneath him. Hay scattered around you, and the rough texture of it prickled against your back, but you barely noticed. His weight settled over you, his hands bracing on either side of your head, and his darkened gaze fixed on yours with an intensity that stole your breath. 

The world narrowed to the press of his body, the heat radiating from him, and the way his gaze seemed to strip you bare. 

“You look good like this,” he said, the gravel in his voice nothing short of smug. His weight pressed you into the hay, and though your wrists weren’t pinned, the way he leaned over you made escape seem impossible—not that you wanted one. 

You rolled your eyes, but your lips curled in a smirk. “Don’t get used to it.”

His brow arched as if you’d just laid down another gauntlet. His grip on your hip tightened, the curve of his fingers possessive despite the casual tone. “I think I could.” His voice dipped lower, thoughtful. “And we both know you’ll be back—whatever this sudden need to end things is about.”

You shifted beneath him, deliberately dragging your knee up the inside of his thigh just to watch his composure slip. The sharp intake of breath was reward enough.

“That’s cute,” you said breezily. “But you’ve got hay in your hair.”

He laughed then, low and rough, as he looked at you with awe in his eyes. There was no hesitation, just a shift of his hands toward the edge of your dress. The fabric bunched beneath his fingers, and he didn’t bother with care as he tugged it upward, exposing your legs inch by inch.

You arched slightly, just enough to help him along, and his eyes tracked your every movement. There was no reverence in the way his hands skimmed your thighs, no tenderness in the way he worked the dress higher—only efficiency, only intent. 

Your hands weren’t idle either. You dragged them down his chest, nails catching briefly before reaching his belt. The buckle gave easily under your fingers, and you pulled at the leather with an impatience that matched his own. 

The dress tangled around your hips as he settled over you again, his weight pressing you into the hay. The rough texture was easy to ignore, however. Your focus narrowed to the feel of his hands and the sharp, heated pull of his mouth against yours. 

There was nothing gentle in the way you worked against each other, no lingering touches or soft gasps. Just the rustle of fabric and the scrape of hay as layers were peeled away with single-minded determination. 

His jacket hit the ground with a careless thud, and he made quick work of his sleeves, rolling them to his elbows before his hands were on you again. One skimmed up your thigh, firm and intent, while the other hooked into the neckline of your dress.

The fabric protested as he tugged it down, exposing bare skin to the cool autumn air. You exhaled sharply but didn’t stop your own hands, busy undoing the buttons of his shirt. The thin material parted beneath your fingers, the edges hanging loose as you shoved it aside just enough to splay your palms against his chest.

His mouth dropped to your neck, sharp and insistent, while your nails scraped down his torso. Every movement was quick, impatient—clothes pushed aside or pulled down just enough to clear the way,

There was nothing tender in the way his teeth grazed at your collarbone, nothing considerate about the way your fingers twisted in his hair to pull him closer. 

This was just how it always went between you. Nothing more, nothing less. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. And it didn’t. Not really. That was what you told yourself—though it became harder to believe each time his touch lingered a moment too long.

Eris’s mouth only moved lower, lips dragging over the swell of your breasts, teeth catching just enough to make you gasp. He finally slipped a hand beneath the bunched fabric of your dress, fingers finding the thin fabric of your underwear and pulling it aside. You refused to look at him as he worked you over with maddening precision, fingers finding the spot he knew all too well. 

You bit down on a sharp sound as his thumb brushed over you in tight circles that had your hips bucking despite yourself. His laugh was soft, almost smug, as his mouth pressed to the corner of your jaw. 

“Thought so,” he muttered, and you had half a mind to shove him off you just for the audacity. But then his fingers curled, dragging another sharp gasp from your lips, and that thought disappeared as quickly as it had come. 

Your hands found his shoulders, nails digging in hard enough to leave marks, but if it bothered him, he didn’t let on—never had. He was focused, relentless, his pace unyielding until you were arching against him, his name slipping from your lips before you could stop it. 

It was only then that he pulled back, just enough for you to see his red, kiss-swollen lips in an infuriatingly satisfied smirk.

“Still think I’m cute?” he asked, his tone light, but the tension in his body betrayed the casual air he tried to keep. 

Your answer was a growled, “Shut up,” as you hooked your leg around him and dragged him back down. Your mouths clashed once more, the kiss all teeth and heat. His hand was braced against your hip now, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise. His other hand worked between your bodies, undoing the rest of his belt and shoving at the fabric just enough to free himself. 

You felt him, hot and heavy against your inner thigh, and your lips curled against his when you reached between you. Wrapping your hand around him, you gave a tight tug, earning you a sharp intake of breath and a stifled groan that sent a jolt of satisfaction straight through you. 

“Don’t stop there,” he muttered against your lips, his voice edged with need. 

“Oh, I won’t.” Your tone was sweet as you stroked him again, slow and teasing just to watch the Prince of Autumn unravel beneath your touch. Eris’s hips twitched, his jaw tightening as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. 

One hand threaded through his silk-soft hair, tugging just enough to hear him groan. The other slid lower, guiding him into place. His hand moved to squeeze your thigh, holding you steady as he pressed forward, the stretch stealing the air from your lungs. 

It wasn’t slow—neither of you had ever been good at taking your time. A low, rumbling groan escaped him as he buried himself fully, his fingers digging into your leg as he drew back slightly and thrust again, setting a quick pace. 

There was nothing gentle in the way he moved, nothing careful in the way your lips attacked his neck. It was messy, frantic, and everything it had always been. He thrust again, the movement harsh and fast, and you couldn’t help the breathless gasp that tore from you. Your nails dug into his shoulders at the sounds of your bodies meeting, the frantic rhythm between you. 

Eris’s muscles flexed as he brushed his forehead against yours, and his words came in a low growl that sent your pulse racing. 

“You sure you don’t want this anymore?” His voice was thick with need, the edge in his tone unmistakable. He shifted his hips, pressing deeper as his lips trailed from your temple to your ear, from your jaw to your collarbone. “You don’t think about how good it is, how good we make each other feel?”

You bit back a moan, the heat building in your core as he fucked into you with relentless precision. You could feel the tension in his body, his restraint, but you could also feel the hunger—raw and desperate. The pull of his hips, the weight of his body above you, it was all consuming. 

You held his gaze as best as you could, the fire in your eyes matching the one you saw flickering in his. “Don’t make me laugh,” you managed to rasp out, hands sliding down his back to grip his ass, urging him closer. “This isn’t about feelings, Eris. You know that.”

He grinned, but it was feral, teeth flashing in the low light. “Is that so?” His pace didn’t slow—if anything, it picked up, and the change made your body jerk beneath him. “You keep saying that, but you keep coming back. You keep begging for it, same as me.”

You met him thrust for thrust, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the space between your heavy breaths. His name escaped your lips in a breathless moan, and the corners of his mouth curled into a dark, satisfied smile.

“Say it,” he demanded. “Say you want this.” 

“I want this,” you hissed, voice thick with need, and the satisfaction in his eyes deepened. 

His lips found your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. “Good girl,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear. And in the next moment, he increased the pace, thrusting harder, drawing shamelessly loud gasps from your lips. 

Your back arched as you fought to catch your breath, his words unraveling you further. “I want you,” you choked out, your body responding to every sharp thrust with mounting urgency. “Fuck, I want you so bad.”

His lips found your neck again, teeth scraping along the sensitive skin there as he quickened his pace, forcing you to meet him with every sharp, punishing thrust. His hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding the spot that made you shudder and gasp his name like a prayer. 

“Come on,” he urged, voice rough against your ear. “Let me feel you.” The coil in your core tightened, heat flooding through you as his fingers worked in tandem with his hips. 

“Eris,” you gasped, barely able to form the word as his name caught in your throat.

“Right here,” he growled, his lips brushing your jaw, his voice raw with need. “Let go for me, sweetheart. Now.”

His command tipped you over the edge. Your body tightened around him, pleasure crashing through you in waves that left you gasping and trembling beneath him, pulsing around him. The sound that tore from your throat was unrestrained, raw, as every nerve in your body seemed to ignite at once. 

He didn’t stop moving, riding out your climax as if to wring every last drop of pleasure from you. The smirk tugging at his lips was victorious, but there was something deeper in his eyes—a flicker of something that made your chest tighten before you could shove it aside. 

“Good girl,” he murmured again, his pace faltering slightly as he watched you fall apart beneath him. 

You barely had time to recover before his movements grew frenzied again, his control slipping as your body clenched around him. His head dropped to your shoulder as he thrust one final time, a guttural groan tearing from his throat. He pulled out in a rush, his release warm against the soft skin of your inner thigh. 

For a moment, neither of you moved, your bodies tangled and slick with sweat, the only sound the harsh rhythm of your breathing. 

And then, like it always did, reality began to creep back in. 

When you returned, the River House was silent, the darkened corridors empty, and you prayed to the Mother that it stayed that way. Each step was careful, your senses heightened as if the mere sound of your heartbeat would give you away. You moved through the halls like a shadow, avoiding the main staircase in favor of the back ones, the lingering scent of Eris on your skin and clothes enough to have you holding your breath. 

Once in your room, you locked the door behind you, your pulse finally beginning to slow. The shower was hot, almost scalding, as you scrubbed at your skin with a focus that bordered on obsessive. Soap, then lotion—anything to erase any lingering trace of him from your body. 

By the time you slipped into clean clothes, the thick scent of perfume clinging to your skin, you deemed yourself prepared. You straightened your shoulders, smoothed your hands over your sleeves, forced the tension from your face. And, noticing your soiled dress and underwear on the floor, buried them deep in your hamper.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

The walk back toward the grand staircase was steady, your destination set in your mind—Feyre, you thought. Surely she’d be in her studio or curled up somewhere with Nyx. That felt safe. Comfortable. Normal. 

But as you strode past the library, the low hum of voices stopped you in your tracks. You froze, the faint echo of a familiar cadence prickling along your senses. Azriel. 

Your pulse stuttered as you stepped closer, pressing yourself against the wall beside the door. His voice was muffled through the thick wood, but you could tell he wasn’t alone. 

“...and why shouldn’t I? You think she tells me everything?” That was Nesta, her voice sharp and unyielding. 

Azriel’s reply was quieter, a low rumble that barely carried through the wood, but it was tight—restrained. Whatever they were talking about had his temper on edge. 

You told yourself to keep walking. That whatever they were discussing wasn’t your concern. But… his shadows weren’t spilling into the hallway, weren’t warning him of your presence like you’d half-expected. 

“No right?” Nesta scoffed, and you could picture her now, sitting in one of those armchairs, spine straight, arms crossed. “I wasn’t aware she was yours to command.”

“She’s not–” His voice faltered, rough and uneven. Then, more forcefully, “That’s not the point.”

A heavy silence stretched, and you edged closer to the crack in the door, your breath caught in your throat. 

Nesta’s laugh was dry, almost mocking. “No, Azriel. That is exactly the point. You don’t want her to be with anyone else, but you’re too much of a coward to tell her to stay.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. 

“Well I didn’t tell her to go fuck other people, did I?” he ground out, his voice quieter now but no less tense. 

“No,” Nesta said, and her words were a whip crack in the stillness. “You didn’t tell her anything. Not after that night. What the hell do you expect her to do? Wait forever?”

The library went still, save for the faint crackle of the fire. 

Nesta didn’t wait for an answer. “You can’t blame her for trying to find someone who actually wants her.”

“They don’t want her, they want her body! And I never said I didn’t–” Azriel cut himself off, a sharp exhale filling the space between them. “I never said that.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Nesta said evenly. “Actions speak louder than words. Or in your case, inaction.”

There was no mistaking the fury that radiated from the library now. You could practically feel it bleeding through the door, but you couldn’t make yourself move. 

“Eris doesn’t deserve her,” Azriel finally said, his voice cold as stone. 

“I agree. But he’s there, and he’s made it clear what he wants. Unlike you.”

His footsteps echoed softly, pacing, before they stopped. “I don’t need to explain myself to you, Nesta.”

“Nor did I ever ask you to,” she said, tone light but edged with steel. “But maybe you should explain yourself to her before it’s too late. If it isn’t already. I heard she was in Autumn today.”

Another silence followed, heavier this time, pressing against your ribs like a weight. 

You didn’t wait to hear his reply. Turning on your heel, you slipped down the hallway as quietly as you could, your pulse hammering in your ears. You weren’t sure if it was guilt or anger—or both—twisting in your chest as you hurried toward the stairs, desperate to put distance between yourself and that conversation. 

The week dragged by, a slow crawl of silence that you tried your best to ignore. After overhearing that conversation in the library, you told yourself you didn’t care. If Azriel wanted to avoid you, fine. Two could play that game.

You’d spent most of your days deliberately busy. Tasks that usually took an hour stretched into two or three as you found yourself obsessively focused on minute details. The work helped, even if it left you drained by the end of the day. It was easier than sitting still, easier than letting your mind wander back to the familiar hum of his voice murmuring through the door, or the way his shadows hadn’t so much as twitched when you’d linered just outside. 

At first, you thought he’d come to you. Surely, he’d realize how cold he’d been when he’d returned and not spoken to you—how his silence was as cutting as any sharp-edged blade. But as days turned to nights and the distance between you remained, your hope turned into something thornier. Resentment, perhaps. Bitterness. 

If he noticed your avoidance, he gave no indication. You made sure of it, slipping out of rooms the moment he entered, steering clear of shared spaces, timing your comings and goings perfectly. It felt childish, you knew that, but you weren’t going to be the one to break the stalemate.

Still, there were moments—fleeting and fragile—where you thought you caught him watching you. When you’d laugh at something Cassian said, or linger too long in conversation with Rhys. You’d feel the faintest prickle of awareness, like his gaze was brushing against your skin, only to find him turned away when you looked. 

And at night, when the house was quiet and there was no one left to distract you, your thoughts inevitably circled back to Azriel. To the way he’d ignored you when he’d finally come back that afternoon. To the ghost of his scent lingering in Rhys’s office when you’d gone to discuss the standstill you remained at with Beron. To the unshakable feeling that you’d done something during your night together that turned him away entirely. 

It wasn’t just hurt that gnawed at you now, though. It was just the nagging curiosity of why. Why had he avoided you so thoroughly, not just after his mission, but even after you’d heard him in the library? What was keeping him from seeking you out, from addressing the sharp, growing rift between you?

The question twisted in your chest, unresolved and unspoken, as the week wore on. By the seventh day, your bitterness had hardened into quiet determination. If Azriel wasn’t going to come to you on his own, then you’d make him want it, and work for it. Let him stew in the silence he’d created. Let him wonder what you were thinking, what you were feeling. 

Because even though your heart ached to make the first move, your pride demanded otherwise. 

On the eighth day, the balance shifted. 

You’d been in the kitchen, slicing bread for your breakfast, when frustration finally bubbled over. The jar of preserve in your hands was stubborn, its lid refusing to budge no matter how hard you twisted.

You huffed, gripping the jar tighter as you braced it against the counter for better leverage. Still, the lid didn’t give. 

“Here.”

The deep voice, so close and unexpected, made you flinch. You hadn’t even heard him enter the room. Before you could protest, Azriel reached past you, plucking the jar from your hands. His fingers, long and sure, twisted the lid once. The seal popped with a soft, infuriating click. He held the open jar out to you with a straight face. But you knew better—knew him better. Beneath that practiced calm, he was undoubtedly biting back a smirk, emanating a smug and quiet assurance that he’d impressed you without even trying.

You met his gaze briefly, your expression cool, before taking the jar from him without a word. Setting it on the counter, you began spreading the preserve over your bread with a feigned intense focus. You didn’t hear him leave, but the weight of his presence shifted, his shadows curling away. All except one, which lurked in the doorway. With a sigh, you waved a quick hand through it and watched it dissipate like smoke in the air. 

It wasn’t enough to satisfy him. Later that day, he tried again. 

You were at the flowerbeds, pulling stubborn weeds that had crept into the soil after the last storm. You heard him approach before you saw him, the soft crunch of boots on the path just loud enough to catch your attention—unexpected, coming from someone who usually moved without a sound.

Azriel crouched beside you, his wings folding neatly behind him as his shadows pooled at his feet.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his voice careful—too careful.

“I’ve got it,” you replied, keeping your focus on the weed in your grasp.

His eyes lingered on you, heavy with an unspoken question, but you didn’t offer him anything more. You didn’t even look at him. When he eventually stood and walked away, a pang of guilt twisted in your chest, but you buried it beneath the same resolve that had kept you away all week. 

Three days after that, the tension was palpable. 

Rhys winnowed you to the House of Wind at your request once you’d finished in the flowerbeds that day. Now, you were on your way to the training ring, your steps purposeful, when he appeared at the end of the hallway. He was leaning casually against the wall, but the tight set of his shoulders betrayed him. 

“Heading to train?” he asked as you drew closer. 

“Mhm.” You didn’t slow. 

“I could join you,” he offered, falling into step beside you.

“I don’t need a partner today,” you said, keeping your gaze ahead. “Thanks, though.”

The words were polite but dismissive, and you didn’t miss the flicker of frustration in his eyes as he slowed, letting you walk away without another word. Nor did you miss the shadow peeking through the door when Cassian joined you some minutes later. The faint shadow retreated, followed shortly by the sharp crash of what sounded like ceramic shattering inside. 

It became a rhythm—a dangerous, unspoken dance. 

Each attempt he made to close the distance between you, you met with calm indifference. Every small effort to bridge the silence, you countered with a measured response that kept him just far enough away. 

And as much as it pained you to keep him at arm’s length, you couldn’t deny the satisfaction in watching him falter, his control slipping as he struggled to understand the rules of the game you refused to explain. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The reports were endless. 

Azriel’s desk was a battlefield of parchment, the weight of correspondence from his network of spies pressing against his temples like a vice. Every time he completed one, three more seemed to take its place. Hours had passed unnoticed, the only signs of time’s passage the ache in his shoulders and the faint hum of the city below. 

Finally, with a frustrated sigh, he pushed the papers aside and stood. Coffee. He needed coffee if he was going to finish this tonight. 

The halls of the House of Wind were silent as he made his way to the kitchen, newly purchased mug in hand. The cool stone beneath his bare feet was grounding, a relief against the tension coiling in his chest. But as he passed her door, his shadows stirred, rising like smoke around his shoulders, tugging insistently toward her room. 

He paused mid-step, jaw tightening. 

They’d been doing this for weeks now—restless, insistent, always leading him toward her. He didn’t need them to remind him where she was. He knew. He always knew. 

Still, the pull lingered, stronger tonight, their whispers curling in his ears. He stood there for a moment, staring at her door, his grip tightening around the mug in his hand. He hadn’t spoken to her in weeks. Sure, there were her curt responses to his failed attempts at conversation, but that didn’t count. Not really. 

Azriel closed his eyes, inhaling sharply. The memory was as bitter as the now cold coffee awaiting him downstairs. He could still see her face that day, the cool indifference she’d leveled at him. And now? He could feel her icy distance in every glance, every word she refused to give him. 

It’s what you deserve.

The thought came unbidden, a sharp pang in his chest. He deserved worse, probably. For the things he thought, the conclusions he’d jumped to. For the way he’d avoided her instead of facing the storm head-on. 

The shadows tugged again, more insistent this time. His wings shifted in irritation as he shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Not tonight.”

They twisted at his ankles, reluctant to let him go, but he forced himself to move, stepping past her door without another glance. 

The kitchen was dimly lit, the faint hum of faelights casting a soft glow over the counters. Azriel barely had time to set his mug down before he noticed the figure rifling through the cabinets. Cassian, shirtless, with a grin so smug Azriel wanted to throw something at him. His hair was a mess, his chest littered with fresh hickeys. 

Cassian turned, two pastries in hand, and smirked. “Don’t start.”

Azriel sighed, moving to the coffee pot. “You’re insufferable.”

“Maybe, but at least I’m fed.” Cassian leaned against the counter, clearly in no hurry to leave. “What’s your excuse for still being awake? Don’t tell me you’re still working.”

He didn’t dignify that with a response, pouring his coffee in silence.

Cassian shrugged, still grinning. “Suit yourself. But if you’re going to spend all night brooding over reports again, maybe spare a thought for (y/n) before she leaves.”

That made Azriel take pause, his grip tightening on the mug. He turned slowly, shadows curling tighter around him. He had to force his hand to relax—this was the second mug he’d nearly crushed in as many days. “What do you mean, before she leaves? Where is she going?”

Cassian raised a brow, stuffing a bite of the pastry into his mouth. “Told me she was heading to Autumn tonight.”

Azriel’s shadows surged violently, a cold fury igniting in his chest. His voice was sharp, cutting through the kitchen’s quiet. “Why?”

Cassian swallowed before responding. “You didn’t know? Some spymaster you are.”

He didn’t stay to hear the rest, his coffee forgotten as he stormed toward her room. Azriel’s steps echoed through the hall, his shadows whipping violently around him. The calm he usually wore like armor had shattered, fury burning hot beneath his skin.

What the hell was she doing? She hadn’t told him she was leaving, hadn’t said a word. Not a glance, not a hint. Who the hell did she think she was? His shadows surged ahead of him, eager, insistent. He should have stopped, should have thought this through. But the image of her in the Autumn Court, of her with him… He could practically see it—she’d show up to the Forest House in the dead of night, meet him at some poorly illuminated side door, and he’d guide her inside with a hand far too low on her back. They’d speak in hushed voices all the way up…

It twisted in his chest like a knife. Eris. The name alone was enough to send a fresh wave of anger coursing through him—even without considering the history between Night and Autumn.

He didn’t knock.

The door slammed open, and there you were.

You froze, standing by the bed, your hands mid-motion as you smoothed down a deep red gown. You wore nothing but a black bra and matching underwear, the soft glow of the room’s faelight casting golden light over your skin. 

Your lips parted in shock, but you recovered quickly, your expression hardening into cool indifference. You straightened, your gaze cutting as you regarded him. “Do you mind?”

Azriel jerked his head to the side, his jaw clenching as he forced his focus on the wall. His wings flared behind him, agitation rippling through every inch of him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting dressed,” you replied smoothly, your tone infuriatingly calm as you turned to your wardrobe to find some shoes.

“You didn’t think to tell me you were leaving?” His voice was a growl, his shadows whipping around him in an erratic storm. “Not a word?”

Your hand stilled for just a moment, but you didn’t look at him as you resumed your task. “Why would I? It’s none of your concern.”

“None of my–” Azriel’s voice rose, the incredulity in his tone making you glance at him from the corner of your eye. He shook his head, the anger simmering in him threatening to boil over. “Do you have any idea how this looks? After everything?” His voice dropped, hard and cutting. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

You let out a soft scoff, picking up a pair of heels and setting them aside. “I’m not doing this,” you said coldly. 

“Fucking listen to me!” Azriel roared, the sound echoing through the room like a thunderclap. His chest heaved as he finally forced his eyes to you—lingering on bare skin for only a breath too long before snapping to your face. His fists clenched at his sides as he took a step forward, his wings twitching with barely contained frustration. “You’re not going, not tonight, not ever. And you sure as hell aren’t–” He cut himself off, his teeth gritting. “You’re not doing this.”

“Doing what, Azriel?” you challenged, your voice like ice.

“You know exactly what I mean.” His voice dropped, rough with anger, and you realized he couldn’t hold your gaze for long before his eyes flicked to the wall behind you. “You think you can just–”

“Oh, please,” you interrupted, your tone mocking as you strode to your bed and picked up the gown. “You’ve already seen far more of me than this. Face me like a real male, Azriel.”

His gaze snapped to yours, golden eyes narrowing in fury. “You really don’t get it, do you? You think you can just waltz in there and–” 

His words faltered when you lifted the dress, stepping into it. His chest tightened, but not from anger. The fabric slid over your hips and settled around your figure like it was made for you, clinging in all the places he didn’t want to notice.

“–and come and go from here as you please?” he forced himself to finish, though his tone lost some of its earlier edge.

You turned your back to him and gathered your hair. “If you’re going to stand there and yell at me, at least make yourself useful. Fasten this.”

Azriel hesitated, his breath catching in his throat. For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze drawn to the smooth line of your back. His fingers twitched at his sides as the memory hit him—weeks ago, pressing his mouth to that very spot, dragging his tongue along your spine as he thrust into you. 

“Go on,” you prompted, your voice sharp enough to cut through his reverie. 

His jaw tightened, his shadows curling around his wrists. “No.” The word came out low, quiet, but final.

You turned your head, frowning over your shoulder. “No?”

He stepped closer, his wings shifting, his voice a low rasp of barely restrained anger as he gripped your shoulder and turned you to face him. “You can’t seriously expect me to tie you with a bow so you can look pretty when he tears into you.”

You blinked, your frown deepening as you searched his face. “I’m sorry, what?”

Azriel’s composure cracked, frustration and something sharper spilling into his words. “You’re not leaving this room, let alone this Court. You’re not going to Autumn. And you’re definitely not going to fuck Eris.”

The sheer audacity of it stole the breath from your lungs for a moment—but only a moment. The tension of the past weeks, every unspoken word, carried over through the poison in your tone.

“You’re right about one. I am leaving this room, I am leaving this Court, I am going to Autumn.” Your voice held steady. “But I’m not going for him. You think this is about him? That I’d go through all this to, what? To punish you? You don’t even know why I’m going, Azriel. You didn’t even ask.”

His jaw clenched, shadows writhing like smoke around his wrists. “Why would I? So you can tell me all the things he’s going to do to you?”

Your chest heaved as you sucked in a sharp breath. “No!”

“Then tell me.” His words were a growl, his gaze burning into yours, daring you to deny him. 

“Beron called for a fucking meeting in an hour,” you shot at him. “He’s got us by the balls with this godsdamned trade agreement, so I don’t really have a choice but to go.” You crossed your arms, shifting your weight. “Not that it even matters! You don’t get to stand there and act like you have any say in my choices just because we fucked one time.”

Azriel flinched, the words striking deeper than you’d intended—or maybe exactly as you had. His shadows recoiled, curling tightly around him, but his wings flared slightly, tension rippling through every line of his body. 

“You think that’s all this is to me?” His voice was quieter now, but no less dangerous. “That you’re just another–” He broke off, shaking his head as though to banish the thought. 

“You’ve made it very clear that’s all it is,” you spat back, your voice kraken under the weight of the weeks of silence and thoughts unspoken. “So don’t you dare stand here and–”

“It’s not.” The words ripped from him like a confession, his golden eyes blazing as he stepped closer, the distance between you vanishing. “You think I could stand here and watch you leave—watch you walk into his arms—without wanting to burn that entire court to the ground?”

His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, the weight of his admission hanging heavy between you, the room charged with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. But the anger bubbling beneath your skin boiled over at that, and you let it loose, the dam breaking. 

“Oh, don’t you dare try to play the victim here!” you snapped, your voice shaking with rage. “Do you even hear yourself? You think I want this? You think I wanted to be standing here, screaming at you, because you couldn’t be bothered to talk to me for over a fucking month?”

His eyes widened slightly, but you were too far gone to stop now. “I waited for you, Azriel. After you left, after everything that happened—I waited. Days. Weeks. I thought, surely, when you came back, you’d at least have the decency to fucking acknowledge me.” Your voice cracked, but you forced yourself to keep going, every word a sharp blade aimed at him. 

“I was home. You had to have known. I wasn’t hiding, if that’s what you think! I was waiting. For you! And what did you do? Nothing. Not a word. Didn’t even call out for me. But you had all the time in the world to talk to Feyre and Cassian, didn’t you? So don’t you dare stand here now and act like you care where I go or what I do, because clearly, you didn’t care enough to do anything when it actually mattered! Gods, we talked about this that very night!” you exclaimed, dragging a hand over your face in frustration. 

His jaw worked, the muscle ticking as though he was struggling to find words, but you didn’t let him. “And now, now, you want to burn courts to the ground? Where was this a month ago, Azriel? Where was it when I was waiting for you, wondering if it had all been some horrible mistake? If I’d done something wrong?”

Quietly, timidly, “No, you could never–”

“You don’t get to pick and choose when you care—you don’t get to swoop in now and act like I’m yours, when for weeks, you made damn sure I knew I wasn’t!”

Azriel’s lips parted, but no sound came out. For a moment, he looked like he’d been struck, your words hitting him harder than any blade raised against him. His gaze dropped to the floor, his hands fisting at his sides before he dragged them through his hair. 

“You’re right,” he said finally, his voice rough, like the words had to claw their way out. “I should have come to you. I should have said something the moment I got back.”

“Then why didn’t you?” you demanded, your anger unrelenting. “Why couldn’t you have just–”

“Because I was terrified,” he snapped, his voice rising enough to make your pulse stutter. His eyes locked onto yours, raw and unguarded. “I’ve never had this, whatever this is, with anyone. And I didn’t know how to… I didn’t want to ruin it.” He exhaled sharply, his wings shifting. “So I convinced myself I’d wait until I’d figured out the right thing to say, the right way to… to explain how I feel.”

Your brows furrowed, your anger giving way to confusion. “And that somehow took over a month?”

His jaw worked. “No. The day you got back from Autumn, I was going to talk to you. I’d made up my mind.” He hesitated, his expression hardening, though there was something broken in his voice when he said, “But then I walked toward your room and the closer I got, the more I fucking smelled him.”

For a moment, you could only stare at him. “You scented him and what? Assumed I brought him to Rhys and Feyre’s house to screw him?”

Azriel flinched, but he didn’t back down, his voice sharpening once again. “It was so strong; I couldn’t think. All I could imagine was him touching you, having you, and I–” He cut himself off, pacing a few steps before rounding back on you. “Did you?”

“Did I what?” you snapped, your voice dripping with exasperation.

“Did you fuck him that night?” His eyes bored into yours. 

The air between you crackled, thick with the weight of his questions. You inhaled sharply, your pulse hammering in your ears. 

“Yes,” you said, lifting your chin defiantly. “I did.”

His breath hitched, a flicker of something indescribable passing over his face—hurt, anger, confusion—before his features hardened back into that mask of his. “You’re serious.”

“Yes, I’m serious,” you bit out. “You want to know why? Because you weren’t there, Azriel! You left. For nearly a month, I heard nothing from you. Not a single word, not a single sign.”

“I was on a mission,” he shot back, his tone defensive, but his eyes betraying the storm within.

“And I don’t blame you for that,” you said. “But when you came back, you didn’t come to find me. You didn’t say anything. You left me waiting, wondering if any of it even mattered to you.”

“It mattered,” he said, his voice cracking, but you were too far gone to stop now. 

“So yeah,” your voice trembled with anger and pain. “I slept with him. Because at least he didn’t make me feel like I wasn’t worth the effort. At least he didn’t make me feel like I was nothing.”

Azriel reeled, the shadows around him seeming to droop. His wings shifted restlessly. “I did come to you,” he muttered, so quiet you almost missed it. 

“What?” you demanded, brows furrowing. 

His gaze flicked to yours, a flash of guilt shadowing his features. “When I scented him… I went into your room.”

Your jaw dropped, a combination of fury and disbelief coursing through you. “You went into my room? What the fuck, Azriel?”

“I thought he was there,” he said defensively, dragging a hand through his hair. “I thought—I thought he was there, with you.”

“Well, he wasn’t!”

“I know that now! I barged in, ready to…” He trailed off with a sigh. “But he wasn’t. And you were in the bath. So I left.”

“You didn’t think to, what? Knock? Speak to me?”

“I couldn’t. Not when I was ready to tear him apart for even thinking about touching you,” he admitted, his voice tight, his shadows twisting violently. Some darted forward, flickering toward you, before he sharply reined them back. “I stormed past the library and Nesta…” He paused, rolling his neck. “She called out to me, asked what had me so worked up.”

You realized this must have been the conversation you’d partially overheard, but you gave no indication. “And?” You asked him, eyes narrowed. 

“And I asked her if she knew you were still seeing Eris,” he said, his voice self-loathing now. “Because clearly, that’s what it seemed like you were doing.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I don’t tell her everything, Azriel, for the love of the Mother–”

“I know,” he interjected. “I already heard it from her, I don’t need it again. I know how it sounds now, but at the time, it felt… justified.” His gaze met yours, blazing with intensity. “The idea of him anywhere near you, let alone touching you…” He trailed off, shaking his head. 

You stared at him, caught between wanting to scream and laugh. “So let me get this straight. You thought Eris was with me, and instead of asking me, you stormed into my room? Then asked Nesta?”

His mouth opened as if to argue, but then he closed it again, exhaling heavily. “Yes,” he admitted quietly, his wings drooping slightly in defeat. “Yes, I did. I barged into your room that night. I had to know if he’d been with you. If I’d…” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “If I’d lost you.”

Your eyes widened again, but the understanding of his actions sent a pang through your chest. Not anger, but a deep, aching sadness. “And?” you prompted once again, softer this time. 

Azriel’s gaze lifted, his eyes locking with yours. “And I realized it wouldn’t have mattered. I’d still want you. Even if it killed me.”

You reached a hand out, your fingers tightening around his arm as the weight of his words crashed over you. The room felt smaller, the air thick with the tension and longing neither of you could suppress any longer. 

“What am I supposed to do with that, Azriel?” you asked, your voice trembling, tears threatening to spill. “What am I supposed to do with all of this?”

He stepped closer, his hand lifting hesitantly before it cupped your cheek, his touch featherlight. “Let me prove it,” he murmured, his voice a quiet rasp before he cleared his throat. “Let me prove I’m not going to lose you again.”

For a moment, you stood frozen, caught between the anger that still simmered somewhere deep inside you and the pull of the male standing before you, raw and open in a way you’d never seen before. And then, slowly, you leaned into his touch, letting yourself believe that maybe he was telling the truth. 

Azriel’s thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a tear that had slipped free. The tenderness in the gesture only made your chest ache more fiercely, a tangled knot of emotions you couldn’t begin to unravel. 

“You think you can just say that and fix everything?” you whispered, your voice breaking recalling your conversation at the family dinner. “We already–”

His hand trembled slightly, the only betrayal of the storm of emotions raging behind his steady gaze. “No,” he admitted. “I don’t expect that. I know it’ll take more than words. More than this.” His thumb stilled, his hand falling away, leaving your skin cold in its absence. “But I’ll spend every day proving it to you if you let me. I’ll fight for you, even if you never let me close again.”

You took a breath, a sob threatening to escape before you swallowed it down. The sincerity in his words tore at you, but the weight of your pain and anger still held you firmly in place. 

“What if I don’t know how to let you back in?�� you asked, barely audible. “What if I’m too scared to even try?”

His expression softened, the hard lines of his jaw at last easing. “Then I’ll wait,” he said, his voice steady, unwavering. “As long as it takes. I’ll wait for you to be ready, even if it’s years. Even if it’s never.”

You couldn’t stop the tears this time, couldn’t stop the way his words cracked something open inside of you. It wasn’t fair—this male who had shattered you offering to piece you back together again. But there was something in his eyes, something you hadn’t seen in so long: hope.

And it scared you as much as it comforted you. 

“I don’t know where to start,” you finally said, your voice barely audible. 

Azriel’s lips curved into the faintest, softest smile. “Then let me.”

And, with infinite gentleness, he reached for your hand, his scarred fingers brushing against yours, tentative and warm. You didn’t pull away. Instead, you let him thread his fingers through yours, his touch grounding you even as your heart threatened to break free of your chest. 

His fingers brushed yours, tentative, and for a moment, all the noise in you stilled. Not in resolution, not in some grand, sweeping relief—just quiet. Heavy and unyielding, like the space between breaths. You didn’t reach for him, and he didn’t push. You stayed there, caught in a fragile uneasy balance, and for now, it was all either of you could offer. 

[skyeistrying]

can you do vi headcannons in a similar way to the sevika one?

♥️Vi HCs♥️

broken up into categories for general, romantic, and nsfw headcanons respectively.

safe for bisexual women, trans, and enby lesbians :)!

lower case is on purpose. not beta read, sorry for any typos.

men dni minors dni men dni minors dni men dni minors dni

general

her carabiner is on the left. it has the basics and a couple of cute handmade charms courtesy of her sister.

if she wasn’t an enforcer, she would be a professional boxer/pit fighter AFTER fighting becomes less of a coping mechanism for her.

i am not the first person to think of this but … she plays the guitar. she would be self taught.

she can sing pretty well too. used to sing powder lullabies their mom would sing.

LOOOOVESSSS HORROR MOVIES!!! she could probably go on a long rant about the history of horror as a genre, especially slasher films.

dog person. asks to pet almost every dog she sees on a walk.

she apologizes first after almost any argument she’s in.

it takes her 10-15 minutes TOPS to get ready, usually less than that.

smells like old spice and just her natural scent. very plain, but very comforting.

gives the best, most comforting hugs

sends streaks on snap.

romantic

and the world's best kisser award goes to…

seriously, she’s like a kissing god. gives the kind of kisses that have you weak in the knees. you get butterflies at the thought of kissing her.

every day before she leaves for work she kisses you SILLY!! like, you will be thinking about that kiss ALL day.

her giving and receiving love language is physical touch. no questions asked. she is constantly seeking your warmth.

she’s almost always touching you; an arm around your waist or shoulder, pinkies intertwined, hands brushing, holding hands.

if you aren’t keen on physical touch, don’t worry! she would be willing to set boundaries with you.

she isn’t very good at drawing but she loves to draw you in the margins of notebooks. tries her best to remember what your smile looks like and how your eyes are shaped, even for low effort doodles.

she is such a sweetheart. goes out of her way to get you flowers or chocolates, even when it isn’t valentine’s day.

will call you sooo many petnames. her favorites to use would be honey, baby, and sweetheart.

loves spooning. she looooves to be little spoon!! please let her be little spoon at least twice a week!!!

nsfw

She is almost exclusively a top, and she prefers it that way. However, for the right person, she might bottom once in a blue moon.

when it comes to dominance or submission, she mostly follows your lead. she's usually okay with either but will have moments where she prefers one over the other.

when she's feeling more dom, she lets you know immediately.

she has big hands and let’s just say she knows exactly how to use them.

sit on her face. just do it, please sit on her face or else she will die. sit on her face!!!!!

vocal!! in like, every way you can imagine! has the prettiest moans and tells you the sweetest things.

even when shes feeling controlling or dominant, she takes care to be gentle with you.

buuuut if you get her riled up enough she has no issue with a little man handling.

very experimental!!! down to try almost anything once.

hello dear anon! if you’re reading this, i hope you enjoyed. i had a lot more ideas for vi than i thought i would. i’d love to know if we have any common headcanons ^^!♥️🎠

my inbox is open for requests! i’ll write for any arcane character and have lots of other fandoms i write for too. i do more than just headcanons btw ♥️🎠

[generalsmemories]

THE MILESTONE EVENT REQUEST (LOVE THE IDEA BTW):

Fluff sentences 6+8

AND ..!

Fluff scenario 2

WITH IL DAN HENG + GN! READER

Good luck (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

Intertwined

✧ Imbibitor Lunae!Dan Heng x gn!reader

✧ prompts used: "you're so warm." "i hear you, but we really need to get up, love." + "youre going to get sick if you keep coddling me" "and you're just going to get worse if i don't..." + playing with their hair until they fall asleep || 1k event

✧ content: established relationship, fluff, humor, sick!fic, the reader is the one sick here, mentions of other characters (astral express family), personal headcanons for dan heng (literally only the fact that his blood runs cold)

✧ a/n: crank the fluff meter up cause everything i write about dan heng whether in his IL form or normal form is just fluff. thanks for joining the milestone event anon! i hope this was a comfortable read - not beta-read as well yeehaw.

Dan Heng can feel an added weight on him - a weight that wasn't there the previous evening when he went to bed. He can also feels the unusual warmth of the hands splayed on his back. The sudden weight and difference in temperature on his normally cold skin makes him blink his eyes open.

The only sight he's greeted with however, is the top of your head as you rest on top of him. Your hands had wormed themselves underneath his shirt to seek solace against his cool skin - It's not unusual for you to sneak into the archives to sleep alongside him, mostly on the claim that he was the perfect temperature to hug since his body temperature was naturally cooler in his real form. However, his ears twitch a bit when he hears your low groan when he tries to maneuver the two of you around, Dan Heng stopping in his tracks to actually take a good look at you.

There's a slight flush to your face, and while you look relatively peaceful right now, your eyebrows furrow everytime he tries to move - snuggling closer to him whenever he tries to pry you away from his body. The action makes him let out a defeated sigh, bringing up a hand to gently brush the hair that's been sticking to your face due to sweat away before pressing his palm to your forehead.

The effect is almost immediate, the furrow in your brows receding from his cool touch - but Dan Heng's own eyebrows knit together in concern when he feels how hot you are. He retracts his hand while looking around the futon in search of his phone, but the twists and turn of his body eventually manage to wake you up, "... Dan Heng...?" you murmur, and the Vidyadhara stops in his tracks to focus his attention back on you, "Good morning, how are you feeling?" he asks in a low whisper, maneuvering his hand to rest on the back of your neck which makes you shiver from the difference in temperature.

"I could be better," you say with a laugh, dropping your head back down on his stomach after Dan Heng manage to wriggle you further down his body so he can at least sit up on the futon, "You're so warm, so I was able to sleep better," you utter, words muffled from having your face buried in his shirt.

"... Yeah, you're really sick," Dan Heng confirms once he hears the one comment about his temperature - because you out of everyone should know the fact that his body temperature ran colder than an average human, "But we need to get up, love. Or more specifically, I have to get up to grab something for that cold of yours," he tells you, gently prying your arms away from his waist so he can stand up, but you weakly try to wrap them back around him with a low whine, "No," you protest meekly, eyes still too hazy to comprehend what you're doing, but still firm in staying close to him.

"Don't act so stubborn now, I'm only going to be away for a couple of minutes at most," he reprimands you, already having wormed himself away from you and standing up, but you still manage to meekly grab at his tail before he can scurry off, "... Then take me with you..."

Yeah, that's not happening.

"... Fine I'm not going anywhere, just lay back down for now. You move more than this and you're just going to get worse," he reminds you, pushing you softly aside so that you can lay down on his futon properly, summoning his tail so it can wrap around your waist - a small giggle leaving your lips when the you're able to grab the end to hug, letting a sigh of relief at the cooling sensation against your own heated body.

It doesn't take long before you doze off again, which lets Dan Heng fish out his phone from underneath the pillow you're currently laying on and sending a message to the groupchat.

The Astral Express Family

[Dan Heng]

[Name] is sick and they won't let me out of their sights. Can anyone grab some medicine and come in here later with some food? There's also some medicine Bailu helped me make when I was visiting the Luofu in the medicine cabinet if someone could grab that as well - should help with general fevers.

[Himeko]

I'll ask Pom-Pom to make some congee, how are they doing?

[Dan Heng]

Could be better, they're just a bit out of right now. Some medicine and good rest should be enough.

The Vidyadhara puts the phone aside after informing everyone before leaning over to assess your condition. Your breathing is still shallow, and your temperature is still hot - but at least you're not waking up from sudden movements from him.

Dan Heng eventually settles himself down beside you, propping his elbow up to rest his cheek against his closed fist. His free hand coming up to brush through your hair to help you sleep better.

There's a knock at the archives door around an hour later, and Dan Heng merely utters a quiet, "Come in," before the door slides open and Welt walks in with a sympathetic smile and a tray, "You've really become their cuddle pillow," he comments upon entering, placing the tray by the desk.

In the hour that he waited, you had woken up from your slumber and without a single word leaving your lips you had merely untangled yourself from his tail, gestured for Dan Heng to sit up before sitting on his lap, arms wormed around his waist with your face pressed against his neck.

"Can't say I'm surprised really, thanks for bringing the food in, Mr. Welt."

"Of course, text the groupchat if you need anything else, Pom-Pom would be ecstatic to help again - they haven't moved so fast in a while after all."

Dan Heng lets you sleep a bit longer before he brings a hand up to rub your back, ducking his head down to whisper into your ear, "[Name]? Wake up, try to get something to eat so you can drink some medicine, okay?" you groan in response, rubbing your face further into his neck, "... 'm not hungry," you utter.

"You are. And even if you're not, it's still best for you to eat something. Just a few bites and then you can go back to sleep, okay?" he coaxes, leaning away from you to cup your cheeks so he can look at you, "Come on, for your own sake?" he asks, leaning in to peck the corner of your mouth.

You're only able to get a couple of mouthfuls in before you twist your head away from the spoon, reaching for the medicine laid out before you and gulping it down before letting yourself fall down back on his futon.

It doesn't take you long before you turn over and reach your arms for him, wriggling your fingers to get him to lay down with you - and Dan Heng knows from experience that the more he denies you, the more you will try.

So he merely sighs, laying down before wrapping his arms around you - the content chuckle you let out makes him smile a bit, "You know you're going to get sick if you keep coddling me like this," you muse, and Dan Heng merely rolls his eyes at that comment, "And you're just going to get worse if I don't, so where do we go from there?" he utters back, to which you only make a sound of acknowledgement.

"Can Vidyadhara's even catch these sort of colds?" you ask, pushing yourself up from his hold to instead rest on the man himself, Dan Heng letting out a small grunt at the added weight, but his tail nonetheless worms itself back around your waist to keep you steadily on top of him.

"No, we don't," he confirms, and you give him a cheeky grin, "So I can still kiss you while running a high fever?" you question while leaning a bit closer and he merely raises his eyebrow at you.

"At least I know your fever is going down with how you're joking around like this," he comments, reaching a hand up to cup your head and gently pull you down towards him, giving you a small peck. Your eyes widen in surprise at the notion, and Dan Heng lets out a quiet laugh at your shocked face, "What? Didn't expect me to actually kiss you?"

"... To be honest, no. Not with how you like to keep things clean."

He huffs out a laugh, "I can make a few exemptions for you," he says, reaching a hand behind your head to pull you down to his chest, "Now go sleep. The sooner you get better, the less I have to worry."

"Mmm, thanks for taking care of me."

naru and her struggle with ending drabbles hits again yeehaw.

[mothwingwritings]

Idk if you’re into omega verse but omg I just thought of it being applied to Yujiro and poor omega reader goddamn 😭 (I think I may have gone a little bit too far on this one ngl, also I’m half asleep so sorry for any issues..)

Nasty nasty Alpha Yujiro who takes advantage of poor little you. Who would have thought he’d ever encounter such a rare beauty? Omegas were practically extinct in the baki universe, the world full of hardened alphas made no room for the sweet soft omegas. And yet here you were against all odds.

From the moment he met you, he’d made the promise that he would never spread his seed through out the world.

Nay, he was going to hammer in his children into your fertile womb as you cried out in overstimulation. You would carry all of his offspring for the rest of your life. That was a promise.

While many of his past devoted lovers would have been flattered by his devotion, you were anything but.

Sure Yujiro would disappear on some days but no longer than a week.

But on the days he were in your house. It’d be a constant running away and fighting off the lustful touches of Yujiro.

The dreadful “Honey~ I’m home!~” had you cringing so hard as thick muscular arms surrounded your waist.

Having to take showers with the Ogre that always ended with you pressed up against the glass mirror as Yujiro crowded you against it.

Having your favorite clothes torn to shreds as he tried to make “love to you”.

Waking up in the middle of the night to see the humongous man deep in your guts as he ruthlessly pounded into you.

And when you went in heat…oh boy.

You’re horny 24/7 and you won’t fight back at all? Just lil ol you whimpering about how much it hurts and that you need something inside? You’d let the older man kiss you and cling onto him needily. His poor little omega!

Yeah, Yujiro loves your heats.

This man keeps a track record of when your heats are around the corner. It doesn’t matter if he’s in another country or across the globe the globe away from you. If he sees you have started your heat, he’s running like a madman with the nastiest smirk that has people running away screaming. They all thought he was out to murder someone (ya ur lil meow meow)

Out of spite you decide to hook up with some random beta when your heat starts up. Which immediately back fires when Yujiro has said man tied up as he watches you get plowed down by your real alpha.

“My little omega, have I neglected you so much that you seeked out some limp dick beta to satisfy you? I guess I’ll have to you more attention to keep you satisfied, huh?”

You know Yujiro is going to show you off. I mean, who wouldn’t?

He’s pulling up to the tournaments with you sitting on his shoulder clad in a thin bikini. Your looking away from the many lustful looks directed at you, all while Yujiro basks in the jealous looks he receives.

They all look so angry at him, but yet…too intimidated to muster the courage to say anything to him. Yes this was a fine idea.

He’s got you wearing a pretty diamond collar with the letters “Property of Ogre.”

Every time you both return from such fights, it didn’t matter if he came back angry or happy both were valid reasons to fuck you in the entrance your home. After that he would ravage you on any surface in the house.

He was going to get so many babies out of you.

Me reading this ask loool

You must have read my mind anon, I was just musing the other day on how I want to some day take a stab at writing an ABO fic and the Bakiverse would be perfect fodder for it. 😌

But God... Yujiro would be the worst fucking Alpha. That man could track you down from miles away, knowing where you are at all times should he need you. And he has such intricate knowledge on basically every aspect of you and your life that it goes beyond concerning, it's downright invasive. It takes no time at all for him to claim fuck you, giving you no time to really sus him out or get to know him before you've become irrevocably his. He's now your bonded partner, and you are not at all thrilled with that.

When yujiro comes to claim you he attacks you with such a bestial, feral intensity that you are afraid one day your body won't be able to take the abuse he inflicts on it, giving you serious concerns over whether you will survive the mating process. You got lucky the first time, but what about in the future? How many pups does he plan to pump inside of you? The thought keeps you up at night. You don't even want to parent his offspring, let alone be demoted to his breeding stock to be fucked full again and again and again. You would have chosen ANY alpha other than Yujiro, but now this was your lot in life-forced to not only be his mate, but bear his children, creating new versions of this monster to roam the planet. Would they grow up to be like their father, or would you have any hope of raising them to be decent, loving people?

Also, I feel like your body will just constantly be marked up everywhere. His mating bites don't stop at the scent glands, and you usually end up looking like you just left a 12 round boxing match on the losing side instead of a mating session with your alpha. :(

And when you are in heat its the absolute fucking worst. Lusting after Yurjiro, your entire body aching for him to desecrate and destroy you, your insides burning white hot for his touch. Only your alpha can cure you of this all consuming sickness that plagues you, and you turn into a whiny blubbery mess when Yujiro is around, pleading and begging for him to claim you. It's absolutely dreadful how much you yearn for such a barbaric man, and each and every time you are disgusted with how easily you give in to him. You just roll over and become his docile little fuck mate, turned into a wanton, lusting mess from just catching his scent alone. You loath him as much as you need him, and words cannot describe the amount of hate you hold in your heart for the man that turned you into this pathetic shell of who you once were.

[cha-melodius]

May I ask you about your writing??? First of all and possibly most importantly, how do you do it? How do you find inspiration and such? How do you make it happen? Because I sat down with a really juicy idea not long ago and I was excited and it was incredibly hard. I deleted it, I was embarrassed. So how do you first, come up with a great idea (which you do you write such cool stuff!) and then bring it to fruition? I’ve always been a decent writer but I was really frustrated with the fic I set out to write!!!

Hey anon! Sorry for sitting on this for a while but it came in the night before a big academic conference for me, so I've had almost no time for anything, sadly.

First off, thank you so much for the compliment on my writing! A lot of the direct answers to your questions are not very satisfying, tbh. Ideas come to me from everywhere—things I watch, read, random internet things—and how I bring it to fruition mostly involves a lot of planning. I got a lot happier with my work when I started making outlines for my fics, so I always know where I want to go with the story and how I'm getting there, versus meandering around aimlessly.

I'm guessing that there was something about your idea that was particularly challenging, since you said that you've always been a decent writer but found what you produced frustrating. Since I don't know the details I'm gonna give some advice that will hopefully cover a few different aspects. And first, a short list, and then the details under the cut because I'm a wordy bitch.

Just keep writing. It can take a while to find your voice.

Get help. Seek out 'subject experts' and people who you think are good at writing the kinds of stories you want to write.

Read a lot, and broadly, especially in the genre you want to write.

1. Just keep writing. It can take a while to find your voice.

I started writing fanfic (or, re-started, because I wrote when I was young and then took a looooong break) to get the stories out of my head, and my first fics were not great lol. They were also for a rarepair and approximately 5 people read them, so there wasn't much pressure I suppose. I was just putting them on AO3 because I figured why not? And then I just kept writing, off and on for different fandoms, until the writing bug really caught me and I started producing a lot more, about five years ago. But it probably took me ~20 fics (several of which were quite long) before I'd consider my stuff to be decent. Whether you share your early works or not is up to you, but in general I'd recommend it because there's a good chance someone will love it (even if you consider it to be substandard) and that can help you feel better about your own writing. I didn't start out good at writing action, but I wrote (and read, see below) consistently in a lot of action-heavy fandoms, so I got a lot of practice. I also feel like the more I wrote, the more ideas I got, and the more unique ideas I got.

You occasionally see someone in fandom who's like "this is my first fic!" and it gets really popular or and lots of hype or whatever, but that's not the typical experience. Most of us start out writing like crap. It's ok. It gets better.

2. Get help. Seek out 'subject experts' and people who you think are good at writing the kinds of stories you want to write.

Ok, so you wrote a first draft you were disappointed in. Ask yourself what was disappointing about it? Do you feel like the beats aren't hitting, or the action is wooden, or the language is awkward? The great thing about fandom and fanfiction is that there are so many people that are willing to help out as beta readers or even just someone to talk to. I understand that getting a beta reader can seem daunting. You don't want someone to criticize your work, or it might seem embarrassing to show someone else a work you feel bad about. But if you get someone else to read it, you'll have the chance to both hear good things about it and also get advice about things you're uncertain about. People come to fandom from all walks of life and I'm a big fan of asking for help if you're writing about something you're not super familiar with. I've never actually been to therapy, so getting help from @celeritas2997 was absolutely critical for me to feel good about my couple's therapy AU. Also you can ask people for advice if they write the kinds of fics you want to write—I've had multiple people ask me for help with their action scenes, and I'm always happy to lend an eye and give advice.

Also, related to this: it's ok if you don't like your first draft. But don't delete it! Put it aside, whether you ask someone else to look at it or not, and come back to it a while later with fresh eyes. It may not be as terrible as you thought! Or maybe there are parts you still hate, but there are other parts that you can work on and revise.

3. Read a lot, and broadly, especially in the genre you want to write.

Want to write sci-fi? Read a lot of sci-fi novels. Read a lot of sci-fi AUs. Break out of your fandom and read fics in fandoms you don't know—I used to do this a lot and it was one of the most important steps in my process of finding my own voice as well as understanding how stories are built. When you read in only one fandom, you get used to a lot of the same voices and types of stories, but there is SO MUCH out there. I've been known to scroll through the 'Enemies to Lovers' tag on occasion, but also I will go into fandoms for media I know but have no strong connection to, don't want to write in but know the characters, and read those. I spent a lot of time reading X-men, Good Omens, Witcher, even MCU juggernauts like Stucky even though I don't really ship them. I know it probably sounds crazy to tell you to go read other fandoms when (I'm assuming you're RWRB) there's so much in this one, but I do think it's valuable. This one is not only for getting exposed to a lot of writing styles, but also lots of ideas. I've definitely gotten a lot of ideas that spun off from something else I read.

I feel like none of this is particularly revolutionary advice, but I hope it at least gives you (and anyone else who manages to read this far lol) some confidence to keep going and go after those stories you want to write. Everyone—me, popular fandom writers, professional authors—started out just writing a lot, and they improved over time.

Most importantly: just keep going. You can do it!!

[omegaversetheory]

So I have a big question, how could a transgender person be in the omegaverse, taking into account that gender doesn't matter much and the dynamic (A/B/O) is the most important thing. What would an Alpha male be like, who feels that the right thing for him is to be Omega? Sorry for my bad English.

hello! You've got wonderful English, don't be so hard on yourself - you rock.

okay, two disclaimers - I am not trans (peanut gallery - if you are trans please give your take below, I'm sure anon would appreciate hearing from someone with lived experience), and second I'll be answering this from a traditional omegaverse perspective - the most conservative and strict style.

He'd probably become very isolated - as it would be difficult for him to connect with others in his peer group (alpha males) and may harbor deep resentment towards them for their chauvinistic/brash attitudes or how they treat betas/omegas. This isolation may be physical - not going out much, squirreling himself away or it might be more mental - such as not giving out any personal details, having a "nothing behind those eyes" look all the time, floating around like a ghost.

Depending on his family/friend/circle's consensus on what the purpose of being an omega is, he might feel a great deal of shame and anger. This could turn into something I haven't seen written about often but is interesting - where he knows deeply that he is an omega but hates himself for it, wishing he could've only been the alpha other people see him as. This might influence him to start overcompensating with is "alpha-mask" hoping to lean so far into this persona that he can convince himself and others he's just the most alpha-y alpha to ever alpha.

If he feels compelled to engage with behaviors understood to be "omega" like nesting - it will be done in a private place he knows other people will not find it. If his own home/room isn't a good place for this, perhaps he might have a hideout somewhere - a safe space where he can be himself.

It would be great if he had a confidant or unlikely friend who he was able to open up to about who he was - I'd suggest a female omega for his because of the great political/gender divide that lies between them both in gender and dynamic - and there are many ways they could play this relationship to make it look acceptable to be seen together.

He may feel extremely depressed, ashamed, angry, etc... when he goes through ruts or experiences attraction to those he deems "not appropriate". Obviously, being trans and sexual attraction are not the same thing, but I'm sure it would be hard to seperate the two when being around another omega makes him basically froth at the mouth and become a slave to his alpha hormone's sex drive. I'm sure he would find that behavior disgusting and may have a lot of mental/emotional conflict if he found himself unable to stop lusting after an omega in a way that he feels is "alpha". If I were authoring his story, I might have him find acceptance and romantic love in the arms of the female omega he befriends - showing that loving omegas was just who he was, not just part of being in an alpha body.

In terms of what he might do to transition - perhaps he might seek out scent blockers, rut control, and other hormonal aids to take the edge off. Nothing could really be done about his height, and he would need several surgeries (possibly experimental depending on your au) to solve the rest if that's something he was even interested in.

Other things to think about - the specific culture he lives in and others' he might intersect with, how the alpha might struggle separating who he is as a man apart from who he is as an alpha, what biological/cultural signifiers communicate his dynamic to other people (would he have an easier time if he just moved somewhere else??), and a billion others.

Like I said, I am not trans and since omegaverse uses a two part gender model I don't think we can reliably conceive of all of the things that one would have to think about if they wanted to change how they were perceived in one half only.

Peanut gallery! There are a lot of trans stories that take place in the omegaverse, please share your favorites below to help anon get their wheels turning!

[romirola]

Hey! First off, I just gotta say I love your work! The way you characterize everyone always feels so deep and full of thought, and it just adds onto the already interesting stories that you have going.

One character that I always enjoy reading from the perspective of in any fic is Babe, but one thing I've noticed is that there's not a ton done in regard to their dynamics with certain pack members across the fandom. While there are plenty of works out there featuring their dynamic with Asher (of course), Angel, Sweetheart, and sometimes darlin' and sam, I feel that there's rarely any exploration done with their dynamics with Milo and David. Longwinded preamble aside, I'm curious how you would describe your personal view of their dynamic with the two. Is there anything in specific you approach it with when writing?

Thanks!

Hi, Anon! Hey, thanks so much for stopping by and sending this ask. It means so much to me, and I really appreciate it. <3

Babe is an incredibly fun character to write and to read about. I love their tenacity and heart. I love their dry sense of humor, their ability to see the big picture, their courage, and even their vulnerability when the time is right.

As fun as it is to write bona fide Asher/Babe-centric stories, I also really enjoy mixing things up by having Babe interact with other members of the pack. Your question has been so much fun to think about!

I think one thing that's really important to note about Babe is that they are the FIRST unempowered mate of the Shaw Pack ever. That's a lot of pressure. To integrate into a world of magic is hard enough, but to be thrust into the role of beta-mate while trying to navigate this huge change in perspective? Babe strikes me as the type to want to know as much as possible, to fill in all those knowledge gaps as best they can, and to do so on their own because they don't want to be dependent on Asher. I headcanon that Babe can often be found at at the Empowered section of the Dahlia Library, studying as much as they can about not just shifter culture, but empowered society in general. They attend lectures, seek out classes, read on their own. Whatever it takes.

That's something I bring to bear on their relationship with David especially. Babe wants to be a capable, supportive mate to Asher. They want to make sure that his best friend and alpha views them as an asset to Asher, not a burden. So I think when it comes to David, especially early on, they often try to "prove" to him they aren't just some informed-idiot. (Apparently, they discover, that's a common phrase in magical society.) David always saw Babe as a wonderful addition to Asher's life, not so much for their knowledge (though he is often impressed by them), but because of their love for Asher. David sees the difference. Asher is more confident with them. He shares ideas more readily. He takes charge more frequently. He breathes a little easier. And David loves to see that. He never struggles with Babe, finding himself enjoying both conversation and silence with them. And lately, I've even gotten the chance to explore the deep connection I know David and Babe share. My current fic, The Prince Shifter, is an AU where I've cast Babe and David as cousins. Having that dynamic has really allowed me to explore a very comfortable vibes between them. AU and Canon, I think Babe has the guts to always tell David what he needs to hear, and David really respects that. They just... click.

When it comes to Milo, I think he and Babe hit it off right away, much to Babe's utter surprise. They know they come off as stony, stoic, even abrasive. It's usually hard for them to make friends, despite the friendliness and care lurking just below their surface. But Milo seems to take them in stride, never pushing for more than they are willing to give, yet very willing to meet them right where they are. It's fun. The pair really enjoy spending time together, plus Milo loves to see Asher fall in love with his person. There's a really small , brief moment in It Was the First Time (Things Felt Normal Again) where Babe helps Milo breathe as he suffers through a bout of "magic-stroke" (his post-Inversion injuries), and it's honestly a nice moment that I think demonstrates their bond.

Something I should probably also mention that underscores just how much Milo and David appreciate Babe: I headcanon Asher has had a string of truly awful partners. Users, cheaters, and worse. People who just took-took-took from a nice guy willing to give so much of himself over, and expecting nothing in return. It broke Asher's friends' hearts every time to see the relationship crash and burn, usually with Asher feeling devastated. David and Milo initially presumed Babe was going to be the same. Until... they realized, this was different. Babe was different. And they couldn't be more glad.

What do you think, Anon? That was long-winded, but I do so love the opportunity to talk about this stuff! Please do feel free to reach any time!

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Same anon from last time, but skskfjd I have so much to yap about?? Especially about my personal favs

The last Ritsu fic just make me think of Leo version, for some reason. Because like, this man, this guy, this Satan spawn if he was sent to the future and somehow, miraculously ended with Leo, he straight up the type to go into denial.

Like, him?? Leo?? The 600k influencer?? Where all of his fans is dying to be with him and a much better option (dramatic ass) somehow ended up with the NPC?? He's having an identity crisis because did he lose his taste in people already?? He blame Darkwick for not allowing to leave all the time because he ended up settle down for the "Honor Roll" or the "Useless NPC"

He probably think or believe he ended up with MC because she must've been desperate to be in a relationship. Of course, he's the Leo after all, everyone would wanted to be with him, even the basic NPC themselves. (Spoiler alert; he's the one who fell first and hard. Who's the one into the chick now, Leo?)

The diabolical streamer gets married?? (No click bait)

Leo wakes up in an unknown yet familiar room where he discovers some things about the future

Wc: 2,1K

Notes: it's implied you two were about to have sex.

No beta, if I have to close the document again I will die. Who would have guessed rewriting the same thing three times would make you fed up with it? /S

If leo is kinda ooc let's just say the anomaly made him more mellow jsjs

The thumping pulsation of his heartbeat inside his skull, pushing against the bone seeking to burst, does an unsurprising better work at waking him than any alarm clock, the pain ripping the sleep away from Leo in each of its quick waves.

One of his hands falls between his eyebrows, applying force against them that rolled down his temporal to the occipital where it pooled as honey-thick pleasurable pressure, even though it did an underwhelming job at soothing the ache to say the least. It's unlike any hangover he had ever gotten.

“Why in hell does my head hurt so fucking much?” It isn't like he has been drinking lately, ever since coming to darkwick the only chance at getting drinks was when he gets an R&R accepted, which Alan hasn't done in a good few days. At one point he thought that obscuary’s bar might sell him booze, given Romeo's complaints about a ‘drunk’ Haru, but they were just anomalous drinks that mimicked it so he wouldn't get a hangover either way.

Extending his hand towards the nightstand Leo starts patting around trying to find his phone to call Sho so he gets him some aspirin or something. After a few failed attempts he reluctantly starts opening his eyes slowly only to see that his phone wasn't there. Did he forget it at the bar? Or maybe sober designated driver Sho decided to take it away so he wouldn't embarrass himself?

Before he can even start cussing his friend out a whiff of sweet chocolate catches his nose. Could it be that he finally caved in and made him the trendy chocolate pastries shaped like dachshunds he has been asking him to? He always refused to, saying things like ‘cooking isn't the same as baking’ or ‘it’s really precise, I can't just throw things in a bowl and hope it works out’ but it seems he is humoring Leo again.

Now in a better mood, he peeks a leg under the unusually nice and heavy comforter and starts looking for his slippers still laying down. When he finds one he sits up and follows the smell.

Dragging his feet across the tiled floors Leo doesn't notice how different the floorplan -or everything really- is to Vagastorm, the white paint on the walls pristine rather than dirty with dubious substances and the hallway has a lingering scent of bergamot and sage clinging to clean AC cooled breeze, totally different to the drowning rust and oil hanging in suffocating hot air. Strangely enough he doesn't notice either how naturally he navigates without even one though forming, almost as if he was familiar with it.

Stopping just under the arch leading to the dining room, his enthusiasm falters as the white plate on the glass table was holding, disappointingly, not his pastries but cut up brownies with some red flakes over, maybe chili flakes? It would still be a spicy dessert so curious he reaches a hand over but before his fingers even graze it a playful voice scolds him like a little child.

“They are still hot! I don't want you whining about stomach ache”

If ghouls weren't more sturdy than humans Leo is 100 percent sure he would have gotten whiplash with the way his head snapped towards the right, surprised at your presence. Despite what he might have normally done, going on and on about how much of an obsessive fan you were for hanging out around his room and how he would make Darkwick get a restraining order on you, something inclined him to do nothing, almost feeling like it was obviously natural for you to be here.

It isn't until you start walking towards him, a playful smirk on your face, that he notices that there is a baby no older than ten months hanging on your hip.

Now beside him, your hand combs his bed hair, raking his scalp with the blunt end of your nails, the few times his ashy gray hair tangled around your fingers and got pulled, his nerves and spine trembled slightly. Even if he reasons pulling away –He cares so much about his hair, spending a good amount of money and time on it only for a nobody NPC to spread skin oils on it?!– the surprising ease that came with your touch urged him to stay and rest against the warmth

“Did Emmy wake you up? it's unusual for you to wake up so early” looking through his eyelashes, the black minimalist asymmetrical clock with cherry red arms points to 7:30. How come he woke up so early? When he spends the night editing or doxxing he barely can stand at 12:45. The sleep still hanging to his yellow eyes reminds him of when Alan bangs on his door to force him to train “were you editing that video up late?”

“Video?”

Putting your daughter in the highchair you start tinkering inside the kitchen, cutting some berries and fruit, grabbing a plastic bowl shaped like a panda and putting a dollop of yogurt before sprinkling chia seeds “weren't you doing a summary video for our anniversary? Your fans are kind of pushy about it, and I know you defend them saying they are mostly teens but…”

Tuning out the rambling as background noise, Leo's yellow eyes meet matching ones on the high chair, looking up to him with such an innocent love he can feel awkwardness seeping out of his bones, seeing something so small and weak put so much trust on someone who regularly scams rich old men.

“But I guess it's whatever” coming back to the table you settle the bowl in front of the toddler and face him again, now slightly worried “are you feeling alright, Leo?”

“I must be missing too much sleep lately” the words leave his mouth before he can even think about them

“Sho mentioned sending you some things for it if you wanted them”

“Hmm… guess I should see if I can finish it already” Leo reaches for his phone that was laying on the table and unlock it as he walks to his study, a big desk with a three monitor setup and a green screen. Throwing himself on the couch Leo opens his Whatsapp and sees that his chat with Sho has a bunch of notifications, most if not all videos.

Leisurely scrolling through the miniature one of them catches his eye.

It's an off centered video inside his Vagastorm dorm, very obviously taken as a prank on him.

Both of you are laying down on his bed and seeing something on his phone.

“I don't like that one, you look weirder than usual” without giving you a chance to refuse he scrolls to the next picture.

“We have gone through 45 pictures, what is the fuss about?”

“A makeup brand wants to send a PR package for Valentine's so you need a proper headshot” scrolling away 5 or more photos in rapid fire he sighs into your shoulder.

“Why don't we take a few in my phone?”

“No way, your camera sucks”

“If it's so much of a drag why not just decline? It isn't like you need some spare cash ”

“If I don't post -anything- for Valentine's my fans are going to think we are going through a hard patch and you already saw how weird they can be” it is very obvious for you that he means last Valentine's when a swarm of fans chased after you two like paparazzi. Even then he digs his head deeper in the junction of your neck and his arms hug you closer.

“Is that all?” You ask teasingly and he mumbles something into your skin “hum? I didn't catch that”

“I want all those bastards to know you are mine”

For a second it almost seems like the video froze but suddenly the half of his body he can see is dragged off screen to the right side of the bed.

“Aren't you too sweet to be the demonic influencer~~?” The phone's audio managed to catch some soft mwahs.

“Stop slobbering over my face I have to meet-! Oh~ I don't mind this too much actually”

And the video cuts to black.

A curse towards his friend slips from his mouth before wondering why exactly he has a slight memory of the event like staring at a rock under muddy water.

Sighing and turning off his phone Leo's devilish yellow eyes turn to the monitor displaying the screensaver. It isn't even one second before his natural curiosity takes over and wants to start snooping, wanting to see any future trends or blackmail he could use -would it even be snooping if it's his own computer?- and as soon as the wireless mouse moves the oh so famous video pops on the editing app.

The frame he left it at was the ending of the wedding ceremony, just after the telling of vows. At the beginning it is quite far away, just enough to distinguish who they are by rough features but as the couple -or some reason it's less embarrassing to say couple than say you and him- get closer to kiss so does the camarographer, quickly panning closer until both of your faces are encased in the frame. His caramel eyes dripping with such sweetness it reaches out from the screen to his tongue and makes him sick.

“Aww, looking kind of sour over here” your hands smooth the shoulders of his pajamas before digging each thumb under his shoulder blade attempting to undo years of hunching over work and making him sit up straight “feeling kind of jealous I haven't been paying much attention to you lately?”

Sliding a hand up the column of his neck, the nails softly scraping the skin making him sigh and almost inaudible “NPC” Through half open eyes Leo sees your face getting closer and how your lips curve into a smile.

“Back to that stupid name like back at the academy? Last time I checked I was LI” hot lips climb up and around his neck and behind his left ear “reminiscing about those times now? How about we reenact something else from back then?” slowly he moves his head to the side, Instigated by the thumb pressing on his cheek. Instinctually he opens his mouth.

Something wet enters his mouth and his hair is pulled up dragging his head above water.

“dude, are you okay?!” Sho yelps, patting him harshly on the back to get the water out of his lungs “I knew this wasn't a good idea”

Roughly Leo elbows Sho let him go and he sits on the floor feeling his lungs and nose burn each time he breathes in.

As his sight stops being obscured by thick black fog his surroundings get clearer. It was supposed to be an offhanded mention by their teacher but, after the class insisted, he took them to an exceptionally big marble bird pond he claimed a person could see their future in if they dipped their head in yet he refused to allow any of the students to do so.

Unsurprisingly Leo's curiosity got the better of him and Sho fell alongside him, sneaking in to see if it was true.

Just behind Sho someone he wishes didn't have to see in a while appears, you.

“What is the NPC doing here?”The question fell from his lips almost like a hiss.

“Alan saw you two leaving Vagastorm after curfew and asked me to check” given how Leo seemed still too winded to stand sho tells you to help him drag him back to their dorm. As you hunch besides him and slide his arm behind your neck you notice something under his shirt “Leo, you have a cut there!” it isn't weird noting how he was positioned and the somewhat sharp edge of the birdpond.

Your fingers dance over the thin but long cut just above his clavicle, the white skin irritated red.

Regardless of how innocent this touch around his neck was, it was impossible to separate it from the previous sight into the future with the current one.

Now with newly gained strength he swats your hand away “don't get so handsy so quickly, NPC” and slides both arms over Sho's shoulders who just sighs and carries him princess style.

“Bye, senpai” Sho shoots you a quick goodbye before going away with Leo who he notices is far too quiet than usual but as he looks down he finds him blushing and even his ears dusted with cherry red “why are you even red faced? It isn't even the first time I hold you like this… Oh don't tell me-”

“Shut the fuck up”

“First bet you lose”

[copperbadge]

Radio Free Monday

Good morning everyone, and welcome to Radio Free Monday!

Ways to Give:

Edminister Engler is a recent widower who has now been diagnosed with cancer; he doesn't have health coverage and is too sick to work, so is raising funds to help find an oncologist and seek treatment. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

secondalto was in a car accident in February that totaled her car, and she missed work through the end of the school year; insurance was slow to pay out and she didn't get another car (necessary for her job) until last month. Due to the staggered nature of her work, she is facing car and insurance payments, plus gas and other bills, that she won't be able to pay before they are due. She is raising funds for bills and is also offering fic beta services and handicrafts in return for donations; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

songspinner9 linked to a fundraiser for Wren, a young, chronically ill person trying to stay active in their community and studying for a Library Science degree. Insurance will not cover the new wheelchair they need to achieve their goals, so they are fundraising for the wheelchair and power assist; you can read more and support the fundraiser here.

Anon linked to a fundraiser for meowdistract/hauntedrph, a friend with Guillain-Barre Syndrome, which leaves her with limited mobility and weakness. She's offering commissions and raising funds via donation to help pay off debt and treat herself a little for her 30th birthday tomorrow. You can read more, reblog, and find giving/commission information here and there are also links to wishlists and donation options here.

maryellencarter is homeless and has recently moved cross-country to be closer to friends, and has finally been placed in a shelter; they are fundraising to keep their car insurance so they can travel to aid appointments and try to find a more permanent housing solution. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

Beth linked to First Draft Detroit, a Detroit metro region nonprofit intended to replace NaNoWriMo; they're holding their first fundraiser on October 5th. If you are local to Detroit you can buy a ticket to play one of several TTRPGs, plus a silent auction and a bake sale; if you are not local you can still donate to support the org. You can read more, buy a ticket, and support the fundraiser here.

Recurring Needs:

loversdoom has recently been diagnosed with PCOS and needs help to afford the prescribed birth control pills on top of living expenses and dental bills; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here or give via paypal here.

onedollopofsourcream is fundraising to help support a large family including young children during a difficult time; they particularly need funds for needed medication (including insulin), and hopefully eventually to get out of an abusive living situation. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

chingaderita is raising funds to help their family get back on their feet after a house fire that left them in an unsafe living situation with black mold; their partner has also recently had oral surgery and many family members are unemployed, and they need funds for clean water, food, and cleaning until the mold can be taken care of. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

memprime linked to a fundraiser for a friend, virtualalternative, who needs help with cat vet bills after their cat had several blockages; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

And this has been Radio Free Monday! Thank you for your time. You can post items for my attention at the Radio Free Monday submissions form. If you're new to fundraising, you may want to check out my guide to fundraising here.

[kiestrokes]

i like had this thought in the back of my head of like what ateez would be like with an S/O who has a physical illness bcs i actually have one which causes a lot of pain to my bones and i'm like in a constant state of pain and discomfort, been going on for about 12 years HELL YA ✊🏻, if i don't keep up on my meds (currently don't have the proper meds so it only tides me over for a little while-) then im basically fucked so IDK i feel like there isn't a lot of stuff written about this kind of stuff (im a sucker for shit i hardly ever am able to read abt) ALSO IM NOT 100% SURE IF YOUR REQS WERE OPEN BCS I DIDNT SEE ANYTHING POSTED ABT IT SO- YA- if you don't want to write it obviously you don't have to !! no pressure at all lovely

ATEEZ Caring for You: Chronic Illness Edition | SFW

⌛Pairing: ATEEZ x Gender Neutral!Reader/You/Yn ⌛Rating: SFW ⌛Genre: fluff, slice of life, headcanons, imagines, scenarios. ⌛Warnings: chronic illness + immunocompromised talk.

🗝️ Note: Hey atiny anon! You actually asked the right person; I have fibromyalgia combined with a few other annoying chronic illnesses. Because you can't just have one 😓 I hope that you can find a decent fucking doctor and get on the proper medication soon. That's the biggest part of the struggle, finding a physician that will listen and is competent. I hope this was enough, I tried to assign each member a caring task that I felt fit them! Has not been beta-ed.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below. 

Seonghwa 

He’s here to help you prevent all the chronic pain that he can. Booking you massage visits. Trips to the hot springs. All the arnica rubs. Silly little games the two of you play, to keep your mind off the pain and depression spirals. His favorite is seeing who can build their new Lego set the quickest. Hwa is the biggest advocate for you, he would never return a dish at the restaurant when its wrong. But he will fight for you at every appointment, every pharmacy, wherever you need him to. Because he knows you've grown tired of fighting all the time.

Hongjoong

HJ's specialty is flexibility. You have a sudden burst of energy? He’s down to go explore that new pop-up market with you. You’ve come down with a bout of bone numbing pain? That’s cool, you’re getting changed into comfy clothes and piled up on the couch. Swaddled in your heating pad with all the snacks. Where he falls asleep on your shoulder. HJ never gets frustrated with your rapid change in mood or plans. Nothing but the most understanding partner you could ever have asked for, and boy is he so cute and snuggly when dozing on you. Small hands seeking your face for drowsy kisses that soothe your aches just a smidge.

Yunho

The quiet presence, the one who knows what you need before you say it. Passing you tissues, making you a cup of tea and most importantly holding you so that you can cry. Shedding angry tears about how frustrated you are with your own body for betraying you. For feeling weak. For missing out on things. He's gently calming every frayed nerve in your brain. Reassuring you that you're exactly where you need to be in this moment, and he will bring all of the fun to you. And he does, in small, manageable doses.

Yeosang

His way of caring for you is through caring for your outside. All the skin masks, hair treatments, skin softening lotions because if you feel cruddy, at least he can make you feel cute and comfortable. They do heal though, in their own way. The extra moisture of the humidifier and every cream and essence he buffs into your skin helps keep some of the aches away. Subsiding the itchiness of the nerve pain, just a little. And you can’t get over how cute Yeosang looks in each animal themed headband or with his hair tied back into teeny space buns or how nice his hands feel every time they glide over your skin.

San

Where Yunho is quietly attentive, San is passionately attentive. You cry, he cries (while holding you). Quite literally your pain, is his pain and he’s here to be with you through each step. No judgment is ever passed when he has to pick up your extra chores around the house. Because to him, that is the smallest act of service he can perform for you. San is the one who wishes he could take on your pain, that he could fight it and destroy it and it pains him that he cannot. So he will simply have to do everything else.

Mingi

He thrives on making you laugh and smile through tough days, because he understands feeling burdensome. Mingi never wants you to feel that way, he wants to make sure you verbally know that your presence is needed and welcome. His favorite thing is cuddled up in bed with you wrapped in your heated blanket watching shows. You looking so small in his arms, giving him the feeling of protecting something. He reassures you constantly, because he himself seeks constant reassurance. Mingi never tires of this, he will reaffirm every single self deprecating thought with a compliment even on his worst days.

Wooyoung 

He cares for you with his skinship, which is incredibly healing. His happy heartbeat encourages yours. His strong hands make you feel loved and needed. Who would cuddle him if not you? Woo often reminds you, whispering the phrase into your ear as he traces his nails through your hair, or while rhythmically drawing circles on your spine. Making you float into dream land and anchoring you in the moment with him at the same time. Woo also loves making you whatever dish you’re craving, knowing you need energy to fight off fatigue and pain. And cooking is one of his many, many love languages.

Jongho

Needing to hoard all the extra rest you can get; you seek out solace at Jongho’s place for nap time. Jongho has taken notice, he’s also taken inventory as to which blankets of his you prefer, the pillows that keep you asleep the longest, what temperature you prefer the room to be based on what you’re wearing. All your favorite snacks before or after. New blackout curtains. He’s made his place your ultimate nap zone. New heated blankets. Duplicates of your fave lounge wear and socks. And he takes his payment in cuddles. Holding you tightly in his bed or sprawled on the couch. Sometimes he falls asleep himself and flips you onto your back to bury into your side like a full-sized teddy bear.

© COPYRIGHT 2023 by kiestrokes

All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations. No generative artificial intelligence (AI) was used in the writing of this work. The author expressly prohibits any entity from using this for purposes of training AI technologies to generate text, including without the limitation technologies capable of generating works in the same style or genre as this publication. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Delta anon here again and I have a wonderful angst idea

(Tw: violent lash outs, s/h)

So obviously, Delta and Beta have anger issues. This is a known thing among the fandom, due to him canonically being a hothead.

But due to the more recent headcanons about them being able to mask their emotions and fake it to the point of being able to hide their glow internally, what would they do when they can finally let it out?

I'd imagine they'd lash out at the nearest object or person. And God forbid Color or Epic try to stop them from lashing out - or even go near them in that state.

If one of them tried stopping them or touching them, then Delta, who is running on fighting instinct and adrenaline at this point, would lash out at them and probably harm them. Grabbing at them, punching them, accidentally burning them - they're not thinking at this point and just need something to attack.

(We really gotta invest in getting this man a punching bag that won't break on the first punch lmao)

Obviously, whichever one isn't being attacked at the moment immediately runs to help and at least get Delta far away enough so that they can get the other out of there. Delta doesn't even realize what he's done until a while after, probably after he's done destroying whatever room he's in.

Eventually, after he's calmed down, Delta would remember what they did and immediately get wrecked with guilt. Did I hurt them? How badly did I hurt them? What did I do? Why did I do that? Why did I hurt them? I didn't mean to, I didn't want to. Why did I do that?

Imagine the panic, not just from him, but from Beta as well. Will they leave us now? What if we hurt them so badly, that they hate us now? Do they still like us? Do they still want us around? What if they don't? Will they leave? What if they think we're too dangerous or violent to be around, and then they finally leave us?

The angst of them frantically wanting to apologize, horrified of what they've done, yet freezing up, unsure if Color and/or Epic even want to see them right now, much less be around them. Should we wait? Should we let things calm down for a little? But what if they think we meant to do it? Are they okay?

Now, this thought process would probably lead to a panic attack. And what makes it worse, is knowing that they're entirely alone, have no one to call for help, and might never have anyone again. Because all they can remember is that they hurt someone - they can't remember how badly they did. Oh stars, what if they killed them? What then? The only people who ever really cared about them, their best friends, and yet he hurt them. How could he? They must hate him, surely. How dangerous really was he? Are they really too dangerous to be around?

And when they finally get over the panic attack, probably multiple hours later, they're able to pull their shaking body off the floor they collapsed on and push the door open to go check on whoever they hurt. Afraid to find out, but afraid to not.

(And at this point, I'd also imagine that due to the intense emotions and the idea that the burn appears based on the intensity of his emotions, they'd most likely have hurt themselves by now. Purposefully burning themselves, genuinely believing that they deserved it after all the pain they put their friends through.)

Eventually, he'd be able to find them. I'd imagine he'd be anxiously peeking the door open, trying to subtly glance in the room without raising alarm, not wanting to scare or hurt them further but being too afraid to not check.

Would Delta/Beta allow themselves to be comforted, or would they immediately seek isolation after checking on them to make sure they're okay, out of the fear that they'll hate him and want nothing to do with him - so they take care of it themselves. Not to guilt trip them, but out of genuine concern and fear. He doesn't know if they want him around anymore, and are too afraid to ask and find out.

And if they did hurt themselves, would they allow themselves to be healed (reguardless of how serious the burn is) if Color and Epic found out, or would their insecurities and fear take hold and stop them from allowing anyone to help them, and also from reaching out? Would he force himself to endure the pain and refuse to heal himself, especially if it's a serious burn?

And when Color and Epic finally did find them (let's be real, they probably had to seek him out and hunt him down), do you think Delta would put the offer of hurting him in revenge up for them to take? Because surely, that's why they came here, aside from an apology. Wouldn't they want revenge against them for what they did? They deserve to be hurt and in pain for what they did, don't they?

(How horrified would Epic and Color be at this offer? How would they convince Delta/Beta otherwise?)

What do you think the aftermath would be, depending on who they hurt and how badly? How would they move on?

(Also if Killer caught word of Delta doing this, and Delta had accidentally hurt Color, would Killer go after him immediately while Delta is still in his rage? How bad would that fight get? How would it get stopped, if it did?)

Thoughts?

You know, this actually made me think of a scene similar to a fanfic i read. Where Killer hunts Delta down with intent to kill if he had hurt Color, only to come across Delta and Beta in a very not good state and feeling a sudden sense of deju vu, and before he knows it hes triggered into Stage 1 or like, gently “nudged” aside.

Someone crumpled and curled up, hurt and bleeding, alone and afraid and guilty after hurting someone they didn’t mean to or want to. Afraid to face the world and the consequences. Killer’s been there, even if the reasons for hurting people/loved ones are vastly different.

Perhaps this is the moment where they gain an understanding. Where Killer can take everything he’s learned from Color and therapy and his healing and his own experiences, and help someone else now.

Or perhaps Killer doesn’t switch into Stage 1 fully, but that eyelight glows in his right eye socket and hes uncomfortably aware that the sight is familiar. Which can be a jarring experience for Stage 2, not really known for such empathy, and the moment is very likely fleeting and he likely experiences something like emotional amnesia towards the moment later.

Maybe Killer decides to help Delta and Beta treat their wounds, which also gives them some time to pull themselves together before facing Epic and Color. If Delta and/or Beta tries to pull the “I hurt them, i don’t deserve it, you should be trying to kill me,” card, Killer reminds them of what Color always says: “It’s not about deserving. Do you want it?”

So would they want Killer’s help? If even Killer can offer this moment of what seems to be forgiveness, understanding, then Color and Epic definitely would. Do they want it?

[dayaar-e-ishq]

You think you are some untouchable girl with all the posts on hating men tujhe waise bhi koi ladka nhi dekhega you're not worth the attention you are trying to seek

Dekh bkl pehli baat toh tu jo bhi hai agar itni hi himmat hai toh ye anon ke peeche chup ke bolna band kar or aake sidhe bol road side kutto ki tarah bhaukna band kar pehle. Dusri baat ye jo tu bakwas kar rha hai isse mereko ghanta fark nhi padta toh apna ye jo gyan hai isko apne tak rakh or maine tujhse apne baare mein opinion nhi maangi jo tu bakwas pe bakwas Kiya ja raha hai. Or ye jo gaaliya bhej rha hai na toh bhai mujhe isse bhi neech gaaliya aati hai suddh hindi mein toh aukaat hai or himmat hai sunne ki toh seedhe saamne aake bhauk. Or saale tu jeene ke layak nhi hai tu hota kon hai bolne wala ki main kis chij ke layak hu or kis chij ke nhi. Do din hue ho ya do saal tujhe kya? Terese tax le rhi hu main idhar post karne ka? Shaqal ki toh beta tum baat na hi karo toh behtar....or agar tujhe meri "hating men" wali post se itni hi aag lagi hai toh bkl tere jaisi ke liye hi thi vo jal le jitna jalna hai tujh jaise chutiyo ke liye hi kehti hu ki I hate men or bkl tu toh men mein count bhi nhi hota aya bada.

Baaki bhi men hai idhar unko koi dikkat nhi hui siwaye tere....iska saaf matlab hai tujh mein hi koi problem hai check kar bhai mard hai na tu? Teri khud ki worth pta hai tujhe Jo tu meri batane chala hai.

Kutte ullu ke patthe you bastard saale Suar ki aulaad tujhe kya laga tu aise bakwas karega toh main isko baith ke pareshan hoti rahungi? Royega tu kamine keede padenge tere upar kutte ki maut marega or marne ke baad humesha humesha ke liye narak ki aag mein jalega teri maa ki......(Hehe andar ki Geet bahar aa gyi)

[macabreafterparty]

Hi, I'm Anon. Thanks for responding. That's very kind of you.

So, what do you think Voldemort or Tom would be like as omega? I think Tom lived in a conservative era, so he would hide being an omega. Voldemort would be the type who would remove his uterus or seek to be reborn without a uterus or have the body of a beta.

Oh, that's very interesting. Why I would believe Tom would hide being an omega I also like the idea of Tom weaponizing his omega status. As blackmail, for money or power. I don't believe he'd have any children, but he would totally use the idea in his favor.

Voldemort I think is harder to pinpoint and I think that is because people like different tropes of Voldemort. I always love BAMF Harry and "Simp for Harry" Voldemort for example.

Maybe combining these two traits for Voldemort OR Tom would be very interesting (and more realistic from a Tomarry POV if that's what you're in to).

It's a fic that would be interesting to write.

[prpfz]

🎂 30+F 🎂 seeking others 25+ for some oc x oc omegaverse m/m content. I want to write the alpha, and I am seeking an accidental pregnancy plot where YC is 🍪

My idea is that MC happens upon YC whose started to go into heat. MC is nose blind and doesn't notice YC pheromones and offers to call their Beta!F sibling for a ride to YC's home, or to just walk them there. Either way MC slowly starts to register YC's scent and they end up together.

Optional plot details:

Teacher x Student

Mentor x Mentee

Mob boss son × Other Mobs son

Pop Idol x regular person

Upperclassmen × freshman

Feel free to suggest a dynamic to me as well! I am dead dove friendly.

Please know I'm advanced lit and lean towards novella content. Writing will only be in a discord server, no tupper and I reply around 2 times a week, sometimes more but if its less I let you know.

Leave a like and I'll send a DM for us to chat.

Leave a like, and anon will get back to you!

[copperbadge]

Radio Free Monday

Good morning everyone, and welcome to Radio Free Monday!

Ways to Give:

Anon linked to notaplaceofhonour, who needs to raise $1,500 to cover rent, a car repair, monthly car payment, and groceries for the month; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

queerdo-mcjewface linked to a Walmart wishlist assembled by sister-in-law Maria, a school therapist who put it together for low-income children she works with; you can view and purchase from the list here including games, dolls, sports and crafts equipment, and giftcards (on the second page).

nivchara-yahel and her sibling Hem are disabled and currently applying for SSDI and other benefits; they're currently need to raise $1495 to relocate to a friend's home out-of-state before their eviction is finalized. This will get them to a safe place to live while they continue to seek work and apply for social security and get better access to medical care. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

marveltrumpshate, a fandom charity auction focused on Marvel universes, is open for sign-ups until September 28th; you can offer various forms of fanwork or service (fic, art, betaing, podfics, videos, translations, and more), and auction winners donate their bid amount directly to one of the nonprofits on the list. There are no minimum work requirements and they are open to all corners of the Marvel fandom; they welcome a huge variety of fanworks and fan labor, and you can see a list of examples here. This is the seventh year for Marvel Trumps Hate, which has raised $215,652.53 since 2018! You can read more, reblog, and sign up here.

Recurring Needs:

secondalto was in a car accident in February that totaled her car, and she missed work through the end of the school year; insurance was slow to pay out and she didn't get another car (necessary for her job) until last month. She is raising funds for bills and is also offering fic beta services and handicrafts in return for donations; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

onedollopofsourcream is fundraising to help support a large family including young children during a difficult time; they particularly need funds for needed medication (including insulin), and hopefully eventually to get out of an abusive living situation. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

chingaderita has been trying to help their family get back on their feet after a house fire that left them in an unsafe living situation with black mold; they are now dealing with medical bills after being hospitalized, and may need surgery for their gallbladder while their family is still in a precarious situation. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

loversdoom has recently been diagnosed with PCOS and needs help to afford the prescribed birth control pills on top of living expenses and dental bills; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here or give via paypal here.

memprime linked to a fundraiser for a friend, virtualalternative, who needs help with cat vet bills after their cat had several blockages; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

And this has been Radio Free Monday! Thank you for your time. You can post items for my attention at the Radio Free Monday submissions form. If you're new to fundraising, you may want to check out my guide to fundraising here.