#but i don't think even i would have had the stones to risk it for a televised competition

[sprites4ever]

Since I'm A Solution-Oriented Person, Instead Of Crying, Here's What I'll I Advise Every American And Everyone Else, Who Wants To Hear It

GET TOGETHER AND STAY TOGETHER

The Right and Fascists thrive on division of their opposition. Don't preocuppy yourself with infighting.

You never wanted politics to be a fight, but they've made it one. So remember who your enemies are, and what people can achieve when they have a common threat.

If you're in a red state and are fearing for the life and well-being of you and/or people you know, GET OUT NOW. You have a month until inauguration, so, if you can't leave the country, move to a blue state.

While it is, of course, no guarantee for safety against the MAGA cult, the comparatively limited power of the US federal government over citizens and state governments should buy you some time to prepare for a Trump Nazi Regime and/or WWIII or a second US Civil War.

DON'T DENY THE ELECTION RESULT

I know it's comfortable to think that most Americans wouldn't be so insane to re-elect Trump, but that's not true. The race was pretty much 50/50 and winning over the battleground states put Trump over the edge. There's also the fact that, while a ~65% voter turnout is pretty good for a democratic country, that still means that half of eligible American voters did not vote. So, whatever their ideals are, they did not participate in the choice that impacts them, every other American and, due to the US' status, the rest of the world.

Remember, Hitler too was democratically elected. None of the reasons with which Hitler and Trump convinced voters are real things, but still, those voters believed them and made their choice. May they shamefully rot in the worst pages of future history books, but they made their choice.

This is the inherent risk of democracy: That people can always choose to ruin it.

I'M NOT GOING TO MINCE WORDS:

CORRECTION: I previously claimed that the voter turnout was ~50%, when, in reality, it was around 65%. This is strong for a genuine democracy (fake democracies can obviously force people to vote at gunpoint, or just make up voter statistics), but this still means that a third of the country did not vote and that Trump was elected by a third of the country, not even 50% of the population. By that logic, any election with a voter turnout below 100% would not represent the genuine majority, but you get my point. The reality is that both a lot of American non-voters and Trump voters live in rural areas where the rest of the world, outside their community, might as well not exist. So, of course, they can, for example, take Trump's word on the LGBTQ+ community, because they know so little about the world that they can be told anything and also won't vote responsibly, as, if, for example, there's no LGBTQ+ person in their community, they have no way of knowing what these people, their issues and the threats they face actually are like. A lot of voters also don't care about politics and just vote for the guy everyone else is voting for, or the guy who's face they like better. (I'm not making this up, people from multiple countries have legitimately stated that they vote based on politician hotness.) It's strange, because this type of rural unknowingness is usually typical for countries that are undeveloped and autocratic, so one wouldn't expect it from the richest country where the elections define so much. I guess it's the US' federal system and libertarian economy that have led to this extreme compartmentalization of society, where communities are essentially as different from each other as Stone Age-villages.

WITH TRUMP RE-ELECTED, DEPENDING ON HIS CHOICES, THERE WILL BE WORLD WAR III OR A SECOND AMERICAN CIVIL WAR

I'm not paranoid for saying this, as former US Armed Forces Chief of Staff General Mark Milley, who served two years under Trump and Biden, has stated in an interview with The Atlantic that he and others had to stop Trump from launching nuclear missiles at North Korea multiple times in 2018.

ON A POTENTIAL WORLD WAR III

WWIII means a nuclear holocaust, meaning hundreds of millions of deaths around the entire world within half an hour of the war turning nuclear and billions of deaths in the years following, no way around it.

Cities and areas near government and military instalations in nuclear-armed countries (USA, russia, China, Israel, Iran, India, Pakistan, North Korea, United Kingdom and France) will be most affected, but that doesn't mean those will be the only places to be nuked or affected.

Decades of many nations' strategists' deliberations during the Cold War, the period of tension between the US-led NATO and Soviet russian-led Warsaw Pact after the end of WWII in 1945, which in and for itself ended with the collapse of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics in 1991, came to the same conclusion - If another World War occurs, it will be nuclear and it will be global. It can't even really be called a war, as the world's nuclear powers have had the capacity to annihilate each other's militaries and economies within half an hour ever since 1950.

Since then, WWIII hasn't happened due to powerful people being aware of this and due to multiple courageous individuals who chose right in close calls. For example, President Kennedy maintained a cool head during the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962, during which, for the uninitiated, NATO and the USSR got extremely close to a nuclear war, as they both deployed nuclear missiles right at each others' doorsteps. In that crisis, too, Soviet Naval Officer Vasili Arkhipov prevented his submarine from launching nuclear weapons at the US when the submarine lost contact with Moscow and other officers thought a nuclear war had started and Moscow had been destroyed. In 1983, when the Soviet Politburo had become so paranoid that they believed their own propaganda about an impending attack by NATO, their nuclear forces were on such high alert that a malfunctioning Soviet spy satellite sending a false alarm about an American nuclear launch nearly caused them to launch in what they thought would be retaliation. At that time, the Soviet Command Officer Stanislav Petrov however figured that the computer at his base, which displayed the warning and which had been installed just the day before, was malfunctioning and chose not to relay the alarm to the rest of Soviet command.

Now, much misinformation has been spread around atomic energy and nuclear weapons. Here's the reality about nukes:

Almost all of the aforementioned nuclear powers have the capacity to launch a nuke at any target in the world within minutes, as nuclear missiles, especially Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles (ICBMs) can reach insane hypersonic speeds, faster than anything that could shoot them down before the nuclear warheads start the detonation sequence.

While we're talking about the US, the aforementioned decades of deliberation have concluded that is impossible for any country to fire a nuke without it soon turning into a war between all nuclear powers with their nukes. Nukes are just too destructive for decision-makers to not panic in that event.

The currently existing nukes are spread as follows:

USA: ~5500 nuclear warheads total, how many of those are ready-to-launch is classified, launch means are silo-launched Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles with Multiple Independent Reentry Vehicle (MIRV) warheads (meaning one missile can drop nukes on multiple targets), Intermediate-Range Ballistic Missiles (IRBMs), Short-Range Ballistic Missiles (SRBMs), Ground-, Air- and Sea-launched Cruise Missiles, Air-dropped bombs, Submarine-Launched Ballistic Missiles (SLBMs) with MIRV warheads

russia: ~6000 nuclear warheads total, readiness same as above, launch means are silo- and truck-launched ICBMs with MIRV warheads, IRBMs, SRBMs, Ground-, Air- and Sea-launched Cruise Missiles, Air-dropped bombs, SLBMs with MIRV warheads

China: ~250 nuclear warheads total, readiness same as above, launch means are ICBMs, cruise missiles and SLBMs

Israel: ~100 nuclear warheads total, readiness same as above, launch means are cruise missiles and SLBMs

India: ~100 nuclear warheads total, readiness same as above, launch means are ICBMs, cruise missiles and SLBMs

Pakistan: ~100 nuclear warheads total, readiness same as above, launch means unknown

United Kingdom: ~200 nuclear warheads total, readiness same as above, launch means are cruise missiles and SLBMs

France: ~100 nuclear warheads total, readiness same as above, launch means are cruise missiles and SLBMs

Iran: Does officially not have nuclear weapons, can factually assemble some nuclear warheads within weeks, launch means unknown

North Korea: Official number of nuclear warheads classified, most likely ~30, readiness unknown, launch means are ICBMs, IRBMs, SRBMs and cruise missiles

Nukes cause unrivaled destruction over tens of kilometers with their explosion, emit a flash of Gamma radiation in the moment of their explosion, cause massive shockwaves and fires, can blind people with the brightness of the flash of Gamma radiation and cause long-lasting contamination with dangerous radiation via fallout.

Gamma radiation caused by the initial nuclear fission of a nuke last extremely short. This radiation is quickly lethal, but so fast that is gone within milliseconds. Anyone too close to the source will, however, be hit by so much of said radiation, that they will get extreme Accute Radiation Syndrome (ARS), also known as radiation poisoning, and die within hours, as Gamma radiation is so strong that, in high enough concentration, it passes through the human body and rips out the electrons from the atoms which cellular tissue is made of, degrading them to Ions. (Hence the term 'Ionizing Radiation')

Ions, unlike atoms, are way less stable, meaning that cellular tissue that has been ionized can't uphold itself and falls apart.

The other type of ionizing radiation from nuclear bombs, Neutron radiation, works the same way, but lasts much longer than Gamma radiation. Unlike Gamma radiation, it sticks to most materials, causing them to give off Neutron radiation for years. This is the radiation hazard that comes from fallout. Fallout is the soot kicked up by the explosion, which originates from everything it pulverized. The immense heat causes it to first be carried upwards, forming the characteristic mushroom cloud, before the air cools and allows the now irradiated soot to fall out (hence the name) and back onto the ground. It is affected by wind and weather.

To avoid both types of radiation, the first factor is distance. Any amount of radiation still consists of individual particles that race through the cosmos, so the further away you are from the source, the less likely for its rays to hit you, as they travel in a straight line.

The second factor is cover. Like everything else, ionizing rays can get through certain things and can't get through others. Gamma rays get through everything with a lower density than multiple centimeters of lead and Neutron rays get through anything with a lower density than multiple meters of concrete. So, being underground or in the center of extremely thick buildings, as well as having resources necessary for survival, is key to surviving radiation after a nuke explodes.

The third factor is time. The human body can withstand different levels of radiation for different amounts of time. The easiest way to figure out how long you can stay exposed to how much, is with a dosimeter.

SO, YES, I AM TELLING YOU TO START DOOMSDAY PREPPING

The essentials, of which you should amass a stock that will last you multiple years in a secure location:

Non-perishable canned food

ABSURD amounts of drinking water

Distilled water for hygiene

Nonperishable Grain-based food

Long-lasting milk

Dried fruit and nuts

Eggs

Flour

Sugar

Honey

Salt

Black pepper (hurts like hell, but can be used as a coagulant to stop wounds from bleeding)

Paper towels

Trash bags

Hygiene gloves

Breathing masks

As much replacement clothing, especially outdoors and warm clothing, as you can get

Water treatment tools

Camping cooking equipment

Easily useable heat sources

Tools (Wrench, File, Screwdriver, Crowbar, Fire extinguisher, Knives, Compass, Hammer, Shovel, Pickaxe)

Physical maps

Hand crank-powered radio

Many spare batteries

Many spare rechargeable batteries

Battery charger

Means of power generation (hand crank, solar)

Flashlight

Radio phone

Backpacks

All the medicines you need

Bandages

Hygiene products

Antibiotics

Medicines against cold

Medicines against diarrhea

Disinfectant

Pastes against insect bites

Pastes against sunburn

Soap

Dosimeter

Geiger counter

Hazardous enviroments clothing

Helmets

Gloves

Cups

Buckets

Canisters for water

History books

Important works

A laptop

A smartphone

A camera (don't need it if you have a smartphone)

Print out important documents on put them in a folder

Analog data storage

Physical data storage (hard drives, flash drives, CDs, SD cards)

Devices to read data storage

Means for self-defense

Emergency plans with people you know

Similarly, a second American Civil War would also need Americans to prepare, in order to survive.

IF YOU LIVE ANYWHERE THAT'S NOT THE US, YOU WILL BE AFFECTED, TOO

Don't think the US are far enough away. Of course, the aforementioned nuclear war would affect you, but a second American Civil War and just Trump being re-elected will, too.

Even without WWIII or a second American Civil War, it's pretty clear that:

In Europe, this will invigorate the similar far-Right movements to bring about similar destructive changes as those Trump wants.

Trump will most likely abandon Ukraine like Afghanistan, meaning russia taking it over and attacking Western European countries afterward. Trump is completely on Putin's side and will also destroy NATO, meaning all of the US' allies, including those in Europe, will be abandoned. I live in Germany, which is seeing a rise in popularity by the far-Right AfD party, and which does not have the military means to defend itself against russian expansionism without the US.

With russia's war against Ukraine, China will feel invigorated to annex Taiwan, and just like with Ukraine, nationalist and authoritarian Trump will not do anything to stop it.

South Korea could be abandoned in the face of North Korea.

Trump will continue to support Israel in the Western Right's extremely hypocritical manner, most likely ordering more US military action in the Middle East.

ULTIMATELY, GIVE THEM THE FIGHT THEY WANT

I know that we liberals, progressives, people who don't care about politics and just want to build their own life and even former conservatives who deemed far-Righters like Trump too radical, never wanted a fight. We never wanted to fight for our values in Western society, against the values of those who demonize us. We were always ready to coexist with them, if only each side kept to themselves with living out its values and didn't impair the other.

But the far-Right fascists and religious zealots, with their leaders who don't mean a word of what they say and say anything they want to get power, have made this a fight. By electing a US President who promised to destroy democracy, eliminate women's and LGBTQ+ rights, oppress non-white ethnicities, censor media, give churches and capitalists unprecedented power and abandon all allied nations, the far-Right has declared war on everyone and everything that's true, moral or even just acceptable. Let's remember that they hate diversity, and that we are from many more groups and walks of life than them. Let's use this to our advantage and show to the fascists what happens when you give different people a common enemy.

[hussyknee]

FYI if you're watching MasterChef Australia, the Sri Lankan Australian contestant Savi is a friend of mine and kind of a stealth idol because everything I seem to be online (a ball-busting, bombastic, proudly brown, unapologetically fat, sexy decolonizer lady) she actually is irl. It's funny because she was a few grades below me and found me intimidating when we were in school and now I'm the one perpetually in awe of her. Do watch if you can and root for her! She's a delight!

[allsadnshit]

Sometimes I think about my best friend in my 20's response to when I told her I was envious of how talented and skilled she was cause she was always the friend that was doing a million new hobbies and just really had it together in my eyes and she seemed so disappointed in me and said how she's always been perceived as "talented" for things she was not a natural at and had actually worked tirelessly hard to learn to do and how it's never a compliment to assume someone has something you don't simply because they got lucky because more often than not they were just as capable as you and just chose to take risks, dedicate time, push through discomforts or doubts that maybe you succumb to, and really earned things that are often nonchalantly disregarded by peers as having walking in with already in hand

And I feel like that conversation really changed me cause I've always been bad at school and been a slow learner so I just sort of decided I wasn't smart and it wasn't my fault I wasn't born with the same advantages of people around me and I think that's something we all do as self protection from the truth that the only thing truly keeping us from what we want is usually ourselves and our decisions about our own narratives that aren't actually in stone even if we see them that way

I realized my friend was actually just not a quitter, and that she also felt not good enough often but decided to keep going in times where I know I would have stopped in her place

And I feel like taking ownership of my life a lot in the last few years has made me understand her better, even with stuff like chronic illness that practically begs us to victimize ourselves and then that way of thinking makes us sicker and more dependent on others when we could be accepting help without considering ourselves so helpless

It's really weird interacting with anyone once I've realized so much of that because I see my old self in people when they talk to me like I have something they don't because I am finally making different choices than I used to and honestly it is very irritating regardless of intention

If you want something someone else has that doesn't give you permission to assume how they got it or what it is even like having it - and I think more and more people have decided it's not their fault how they are choosing to live and that's why they are so stuck

[vampiricgf]

— v. lycaon | BRAND NEW CHERRY FLAVOR

warnings : fem reader, ignore that we don't know his age exactly im guessing, ruts, knotting for the first time, rina is mentioned but only because she's meddling, fingering, masturbation, begging, reader is smaller than him, reader has a tramp stamp, virgin lycaon, cervix fucking, biting/marking, blood/blood licking, creampie, crying, sorry if I missed anything

wc : 2.5k+

this is so long im sorry im too obsessed with the idea of him being a virgin lmao >.< also sorry if there's mistakes it's not edited so

He thought upon hiring you on with Victoria Housekeeping things would largely remain the same, the only difference being having one more person with whom to split the existing workload of clientele contracts and commissions. An easy choice thinking of himself and Rina, the primary adults within the company.

It had been difficult as of late, he could acknowledge that, balancing taking on the bulk of the work while the companies other two employees attended their schooling and other engagements that typically keep younger people occupied. And truly he didn't mind it, it was the duty of those older to pick up the slack, allow youth it's time to blossom and explore.

That was not the issue, though. The issue was you.

Not your work performance, no that was impeccable. You had impressed him enough during your interviews but in practical work you went even beyond that, showing an exemplary aptitude for even the most banal tasks. The picture of a perfectly competent maid and (occasional) hollow raider. Even able to both meet and exceed his own impossibly high standards per all the glowing reviews he receives from clients, truly you were a fantastic addition to the company.

The problem arose months ago, when you two had been tasked with a more unconventional commission involving a hollow. Of course danger was always ever present in those ether soaked spaces, both from the impending malformed creatures that called them home and from the levels of ether itself. The risk of warping and twisting the body into a cruel mockery of what once was, imbibing it with sickness.

It was the first time you'd actually worked side by side, he'd asked you to come with him as a sort of test not because he thought he really needed the backup. See how you'd been progressing, what you were like on the job, that sort of thing. A completely normal request for a boss to make, all things considered.

What had not been normal was allowing himself to be caught on the back foot, surprised. You were... painfully distracting to him. A major shortcoming on his part, it was nothing you were doing overtly to draw his attention in such a laser focused way it just seemed like he had a bizarre inclination to keep his attention on you. The way you walked, that delicious sway of your hips. That thing you did when you were thinking, running your thumb across your bottom lip. The smell of shampoo clinging to your hair and wafting over him every time you so much as turned your head. Sugary, faintly floral. Horribly distracting.

Giving some stray hati a prime opportunity to pounce. Neither of you had noticed them creeping up on your perimeter, stalking you both as you picked through the skeletons of abandoned, crumbling homes and businesses. You too busy nervously chattering away and him too busy thinking about how much he enjoyed the sound of your voice.

One moment there had been nothing and in another there was everything happening all at once. Their predatory howls, the initiation of combat. The ring of your weapon as it hit against their stone manes, the crunch of his ice against newly exposed flesh. His eyes frantically trying to keep you in his line of sight at all times, take advantage of the path you left in your wake to give the finishing blow, giving yet another perfect opening for one of the creatures to tackle him full force, the brute strength of it slamming against his side and laying him out shamefully against cracked concrete, knocking the air from his lungs in a painful squeeze.

But there you had been, like some kind of avenging angel from artworks of the old civilization. Your features were highlighted by the look of sheer anger as you mercilessly dug the weapon in your hands into the creatures back, ripping away its advantage and successfully dispatching it within seconds. He could feel how wide his own eyes were, but felt too much acute discomfort to bother trying to mask his own awe.

Not since he was a pup had he needed rescuing.

Not since he was once so pathetically, terribly young had he felt so immediately endeared to someone else.

You were on your knees beside him, fussing over him, eyes sweeping around for any signs of injury or blood. He knew there was none, would have smelled it immediately, but nevertheless he allowed himself to enjoy your ministrations. The way your hands so carefully hovered over him, trying to be mindful of thiren preferences for touch while also trying to be caring, attentive. It was sickeningly sweet of you, made him swear for a second he could taste it in the air, feel granuals of sugar grinding within his teeth. He wondered if your lips tasted even half as sweetly.

"Are you hurt anywhere, should we leave the hollow? An emergency exit is understandable, right? If you're hurt?" Your eyes met him, practically welling over with concern.

He had wanted to hold your face in his hands, soothe you. Almost immediately he'd been gripped by the horror of his own impropriety.

Clearing his throat he took the hand you offered as leverage to get back on his feet, taking note of your warmth, the surprisingly strong grip of your fingers, before you withdrew. Soft, yet capable. Beautiful.

"There's no need. We can continue on with the commission." It took a monstrous effort to keep his voice neutral, act as if nothing of note was running rampant inside his head.

From the on the feelings he had towards you only grew, like a beast growing fat off plentiful prey. Every glance from you, every accidental touch of hands, every moment of conspiratorial laughter shared between you at something silly one of the others had done. Months and months of feeling his heart rate grow increasingly erratic every time your lovely voice would sound out in the mornings, always a perfectly cheerful greeting towards him and the others before you began your work.

And so here he is, mid rut and miserable. Thrusting into his own hand, as he's done so many times before, feeling the sweltering heat in his bedroom and bubbling frustration in his head at the feeling of tangled sheets and the distinct lack of any partner to be thrusting up into.

He'd called into work, voice twinged with embarrassment because how on earth had he forgotten about his incoming rut? Well, he knew how. Because you consumed almost every moment of his waking inner thoughts, distracted him to such an insane degree he failed to fill his suppressant prescription in time. Thankfully Rina hadn't needed details, always too clever by half, but it didn't stop him from feeling intense shame rolling through him even just knowing someone else knew what exactly was going on with him.

Sickness, uh huh. Try so horny and hard he could crack a brick wall in half. The thought made him feel so erratic he couldn't help but grab a nearby pillow, pressing it to his face, feeling his now neglected cock throbbing as he bit the soft down surface so hard he could feel his teeth punching right through the material.

You, you, you, you, you.

All he wants is to lap at what he's sure is the sweetest taste in the world nestled between your legs, feel your body stretching and accommodating his size, tell you how he's going to give you his knot and watch your pretty eyes glaze over and your breasts bounce in time with his thrusts, dig his teeth into your neck, your chest, make you squeal and squirm so he can pin you down-

A few distant, tentative raps against wood.

Did he imagine that?

Tap, tap, tap.

No, no he didn't. Who would be knocking in the middle of the day? Oh god, what if it was a neglected client that had tracked down his address? Someone angry one of the girls had forgotten or completely ignored their commission? His breathing was strained, nearly wheezing as he rushed to make himself somewhat presentable, cringing as he struggled to slide trousers over his impossibly obvious erection. No time to brush down his severely disarrayed fur. How humiliating.

As he scrambles for the front door, flinging it open so hard it nearly crashes against the wall, he freezes.

Why the hell are you here? How do you even know where he lives?

Your eyes go impossibly wide as you take him in, the awkward silence ballooning in the space between you and he's acutely aware of how crazed he must look as his claws dig into the metal of the door handle.

"I'm... I'm sorry for dropping in it's just that- well, Miss Rina told me you were sick and I kind of... begged for your address so I could come check on you, I'm sorry-"

You cut yourself off from rambling, picking at your nails as your eyes flit around nervously.

Of course Rina would give you his address, mischievous as she is. She knew exactly what was going on with his little juvenile crush, his rut. Calling in probably gave her the idea.

But all that was far from his most pressing concern at the moment. You couldn't be here, absolutely not. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore that familiar shampoo scent, trying to ignore the way you look especially lovely, how easy it would be to yank you inside and just-

"I appreciate your concern, but I'll be perfectly fine. I just need to rest." Blunt enough to make him feel bad for rejecting your kindness but the boundary needs to be in place before he does something highly inappropriate. You're coworkers, not casual friends. Every thought he has about you is crossing a line.

A snide inner voice comes out of the blue and he can't focus on what you're saying, too consumed by shame.

As if you'd even know what to do with her anyway.

It must show on his face, although you misunderstand it, because you give him a look of naked concern and he's snapped back into focus. "Do you need me to call a doctor for you? I have my car, I can take you to White Waves if you need to go Lycaon it's no problem-"

"No, no it's nothing that serious." He's losing control of the situation, needs to get you out of here.

"Well, at least let me make you tea or something to eat, please. You look like you haven't eaten all day." Your worried tone makes his pathetic resolve crumble easily, like it was made of sand.

Against his better judgement he relents, awkwardly stepping to the side to let you in the door and a part of him preens at the way your scent immediately compliments his own, mingling in the space as if you inherently belong there. If he had the energy to feel it he'd be embarrassed about the state of his apartment, in disarray as it is. But you don't pay any attention, immediately finding your way to his kitchen and digging through his cabinets like you've done it a thousand times.

Watching you makes him even harder, throbbing and aching so acutely in his pants that his vision momentarily goes fuzzy at the edges. You look so domestic, so relaxed. A bolt of jealousy fires off in his brain, white hot, at the fact that numerous clients have gotten to see you in a similar way before him. Your casual clothes aren't helping him keep control of himself either.

Jeans that accentuate the swell of your ass, the shape of your hips. A tank top that's ridden up slightly, exposing a bit of your stomach as you stretch up to reach the higher spots in a cabinet. He wants to run his tongue over your belly, lick his way up to your chest, leave little love bites across your throat. As you turn to the counter beside the stove he catches a glimpse of a tattoo on your lower back and his jaw flexes so tightly he's shocked his teeth don't shatter in his mouth. He never knew you had one, but it certainly suits you. He wants to know if you have any more, in any hidden places.

"You should lay down, I can bring this to you when its finished," you say it so gently but he can't bring himself to move away, to risk missing a single glimpse of you.

He says nothing and you don't try to press him, to your credit. But when you can't quite reach the top of another cabinet, where hes kept tea tucked away neatly, his instincts to help take over before he can register that his body has moved beside you, hand going over top of yours to easily grab the box. But the way your forearms brush on the way back down makes him drop the box, a shockingly loud clatter that causes a dozen deep fissures to spread in his mind.

He's got ahold of your wrist before you can react, keeping you so physically close to himself that if he took a half step forward you'd be chest to chest. He can smell sugar on your breath, see the red twinge on your tongue from candy you must've had on the way over.

It doesn't even register that his eyes are closed, that your mouth is on his, that his tongue is lapping up the secondhand taste of cherries as it slides across yours and your fingers grasp the rumpled fabric of his shirt. It's like a moment suspended in cut crystal, refracted in a thousand different ways to the outside observer, a million different angles of this one frozen scene, and he wants to hold it forever in his hands.

Hold you forever.

But you pull away and his first instinct is to follow after you, body bending even further to chase your lips as you struggle to catch your breath. Your bodies remain impossibly close as you speak, his eyes never leaving your lips, memorizing the curve of them.

"I don't- I didn't mean-" you're struggling and he can't bear it, can't bear the thought that this one beautiful moment is tainted by the nature of your overall relationship as employees, even worse is that he truly doesn't care. It should scandalize him, shame him in some way, but it doesn't. That fact feels extremely far removed from his current reality and the feeling of even more blood rushing to his lower body.

He cuts you off bluntly. "How much do you know about beast thirens?"

You gape, having been cut off with what is to your view an extremely out of place question but he's hoping you'll follow the thread. "What?"

"How much do you know? Because Rina wasn't exactly... truthful with you." His eyes skirt away from your face but hes committed to telling you what's going on. "I'm not ill, not in the way you're thinking. I'm, well, going through what's called a rut." There's a heavy pause. "The need to... mate."

He cringes internally on the final word, finally meeting your eyes and watching you put it all together. Your own eyes are adorably wide, but you don't pull away from him and that takes him by surprise. He'd figured the second you knew you'd be in a rush to leave, probably drop a resignation call to Victoria Housekeeping on your way home.

But you don't do any of those things, merely taking it in and continuing to let your eyes travel over his unkempt appearance and he's even more aware, if that's possible, of how needy he feels. Any longer without relief and he just might need to take himself to White Waves Hospital. But that's not your problem.

"I mean... That's just a natural thing for you, right? It's not like you're some perv," you laugh nervously, "and maybe- maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you had a little... help?"

His brain feels like a damaged, glitching bangboo. Are you seriously offering this?

"What I'm trying to say is that I- I like you, and I don't care that we kissed. Well, I care but I'm not upset by it. And I'm not upset that you're, like this right now," you gesture with your chin, "and if you need someone then... I can help you with it. If you want." You finish in a rush, clearly embarrassed and something rears its head deep in his stomach.

There's no more room for coherent though as he finds your lips again, nipping at the bottom one before taking advantage of your little gasp to slide his tongue back in your mouth. He turns you slightly, so your back meets the edge of the countertop with his hands massaging at your hips, groping obscenely at your ass. The barrier of your clothes is frustrating, making him growl low in his throat before he's deftly unbuttoning and unzipping them, fingers trembling at you help push them and your underwear down to puddle at your ankles.

You squeal as he lifts you easily to set you atop the counter spreading your legs in his firm grip while your own fingers curl around the marble edge of the counter, gasping as he kisses and sucks against the flesh of your inner thighs as he makes his way towards your pussy. He can smell how aroused you are and it spurs his instincts on, despite the sliver of anxiety working against his lust.

He's marveling at you, sliding two fingers through your wetness, spreading you to see the way you glisten with the slick liquid and he can feel your eyes on him.

"I've, I'm sorry, I've just never been with anyone." The last half of the sentence is heavy on his tongue, one crimson eye shyly avoiding your own before you reach down to cup his face in one hand.

The small smile on your face is sweet, purely gentle and it eases the nerves gnawing at his stomach.

"Never?" He shakes his head and you tilt your head to the side, "Then just watch for a second."

And it's mesmerizing, the way your fingers delicately dip down into your own wetness, dragging up to your clit before your fingers start slowly circling. He watches intently, watching the way your pace slowly builds, your hips twitching ever so slightly at the stimulation before you move back down and slide those two fingers inside yourself.

And the sight is like something religious to him, totally enraptured at the way your pussy swallows the two digits, the way your head tips back and your lips part in a silent sigh. It's not long before the soft squelching sound of your fingers scissoring against your walls reaches his ears, making them flick as he zeros in on it.

With a breathy laugh you pull your hand away but before it gets out of reach he grabs it, bringing your soaked fingers to his mouth before locking eyes with you, tongue tasting every bit of yourself that lingers against the skin.

He thinks your demonstration was a good enough starting point, no longer too nervous as his tongue starts licking long stripes up your pussy and you let out a high pitched sound at the contact. It makes him eager to please, focusing all his attention on licking and sucking at your clit while his fingers find your entrance.

The stretch of you is better than anything his imagination could've conjured up, feeling your walls part around his digits as he gives a few experimental curls and strokes. He can hear you nearly choking on your own noises above him and it sends satisfaction oozing through his body, washing over him like thick drops of syrup.

But he's impatient, whining against your cunt and you seem to know what he needs without him even voicing it. Just another reason to be so enamored with you.

You drag him up to stand, hands urging him to strip and he does so gladly, nearly jumping out of his own skin he's so flush with excitement at having you soaking wet and ready to take him, right there in the middle of his kitchen.

It makes his head spin as his cock springs free, groaning as he feels the air against his overly sensitive girth. Your mouth opens slightly as you take in the sight of him and that earlier shyness returns with a vengeance, but before he can speak your hand wraps around him, barely able to grasp all of him. The surge of pride is something he's entirely unfamiliar with but he relishes in it all the same, desperately wants to please you.

"Just try to start slow, okay?" You say, breath hitching in your throat as you guide the head of his cock through your folds before positioning him at your entrance.

And he takes the lead flawlessly, one hand against the counter to anchor himself and the other gripping your thighs, kneading the soft flesh between his fingers as he pushes in. It's torturous, the howling need to just slam right into you as he feels his head sitting heavy and thick inside you, your breathing already ragged and your eyes fluttering closed.

But he knows this requires patience, for the moment. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, hurt the trust you've placed in him, so his hips move barely an inch at a time and the feeling of your body reshaping itself around his cock is one hundred times more incredible than just his fingers.

What a pathetic comparison his hand ever was, the real thing will never be beaten out. Your whimpers increase in frequency as the head of him kisses your cervix, his swollen knot nestled tightly between his own body and your slick pussy. As he looks down at your connected bodies he can't help but wonder if you'll even have the ability to take it, but he doesn't get to give it much more thought because you start slowly wiggling your hips, encouraging him to move.

And once again he follows your lead like it was the only role he was meant for, pulling out with agonizing gentleness before pushing himself back inside you and he can't help the way his mouth drops open, the way his eyes screw shut. Does it feel like this for everyone, like they've died on the spot and been given an express ticket to heaven?

He doesn't have the wherewithall to feel any embarrassment at the way he's panting, nearly drooling on you, the way he's keening and growling like some fledgling but you don't seem to mind it. Not with your fingers digging into his fur, your legs loosely locked around his hips, the way you say his name in a half gasp.

His fingers slide down between your bodies as you pull him closer, into a heated kiss made of teeth clacking together and tongues pushing against one another. He swallows your every noise as he starts playing with your clit, just the way he watched you do it earlier. Rubbing sticky little hearts against it and nipping at your lips as your legs jerking, the muscles straining and flexing beneath the skin.

His canines scrape a path from your mouth to your jaw to your throat as his hips pick up speed, jostling your body with so much force your cries take on a higher pitch and your fingers pull at his fur sharply, only adding to the overall sensory delight. He tests your tolerance with his teeth, shallow bites in between sucking on the skin of your throat, groaning as he feels your hand slide up to cup the back of his head, feels the flesh pull taut as you let your head tilt even further to the side.

Giving him permission. His mind is swimming through a black sea of pure instinct, running his tongue over the flesh in silent apology for the pain you'll experience but he won't pass up the opportunity. You're allowing him to indulge, playing to his base instincts. How could he not gobble up the bait? And with that loose thought his canines dig into you, the fine points of them puncturing the skin and a trickle of iron washes over his tongue.

You cry out, pussy immediately squeezing him in a stranglehold at the same time your fingers yank at his scruff but it's not to stop him, it's like the string of a bow being pulled all the way back. Your toes curl in midair, practically sobbing as your hips buck wildly and he thinks this must be it, this must be what a human is like when they cum.

Later he'll examine the fact that you came at exactly the moment he inflicted that little bit of pain on you but for now he's lost in it, hips moving in no particular rhythm anymore as he fucks you through your orgasm, fuck you through the impossible tightness of your cunt, and he can feel it like a second heartbeat fluttering in between your legs as his tongue slides against the blood threatening to drip down to your breast.

And all too soon he feels his balls tightening up, his knot throbbing in time with the pulsing of your cunt and his movements are cruel now, all fueled by pure instinct as he grinds and fucks into you with shameless desperation. His knot needs to be inside you before he cums, he can't spill anywhere but inside you.

And his clumsy, less than elegant method works when he feels that tight ring of muscle at your entrance stretch to its limits and the almost too snug pop of all of himself finally sliding inside. You hiccup on a particularly loud sob as it does, legs snapping against his hips with such finality he doesn't move against your hold, remains standing as his body shakes, his cock twitching as sticky spurts of cum flood your pussy, whining at the way your walls practically suck it all deeper inside, milking him so much it's overwhelming.

It goes on for so much longer than he ever thought possible, the sheer amount of cum making him feel dizzy, like he's lost blood and is teetering on the edge of passing out. But he can't focus on the feeling, instead guiltily kissing every part of your face he can, trying to wipe away the saltwater tracks and then cradling your head against his chest as you bury your face in his fur, feeling the way you're trying to even out your breathing.

You speak before he can, his tongue like a wad of wet cotton in his mouth.

"How- how long are we stuck together?" You manage to force the words out unsteadily, pulling back to meet his gaze before nuzzling your face against his jaw.

His heads still spinning as he answers. "I don't really know," he breathes in harshly, "I'm sorry if its uncomfortable."

He can feel you shake your head. "It's not," your voice becomes shy, still thick with the aftermath of your orgasm, "I like the feeling of you inside me."

He can't help the dopey smile that crosses his face, fingers stroking down your back as he ignores the way his legs shake, the way his knot pulses. When you're no longer tied together he'll need to lay down before he collapses on the spot.

Already that thought invites visions of clutching you to his chest while you straddle his hips, cock thrusting in and out of you at a volatile pace all over again. He'll make it up to you once the fog of lust is lifted, but you most likely won't be leaving this apartment in the coming days.

He'll have to remember to call in for you tomorrow, sure to hear Rinas smug voice on the other end of the line.

[azrielslittleslut]

I have a lil angst/fluff request if your still taking them. Its a single dad azriel x reader. Where he had a baby with Elain but she took off with Lucien and she left Az with the baby (lets say baby is 6 months old and has no wings). Az is kinda freakin out cuz babies and him hes a lil scared on what to do. While on a mission in day court Az then meets reader who has the most beautiful white feathered wings and hes instantly mesmerized. Hes there for such a short amount of time so he decides to shoot his shot and lands himself a few dates (not once mentioning hes a father). He notices once or twice that reader will not engage or awknowledge babies when or if they smile and coo at her, but he thinks nothing of it. On his last night in the Day Court the bond snaps for him ( but not for her) and hes so so freakin happy, he invites her to Velaris to visit his family and meet his son. Hes a lil nervous about it and when he finally introduces them shes so cold and distant, wont even hold the baby or look at him. She flys back home that same night and tells Az some lame excuse that hes nice but he should have started out saying he had a son. Anyway long story short turns out that she had struggled to have a baby with her husband, and when it finally happend she had a rough birth but holding her baby in her arms was worth the wait.

*Trigger warning*

In the end she felt she failed as a mother and couldnt protect her baby from an enemy she had made from being her husband had also died trying to protect their child, so seeing children was just too painful for her and so she tried to avoid at all costs. I see it going both ways Az waiting yrs for her to heal and coming back for her, Or Az and them working and healing together, You can end however you see fit, or not at all of its too triggering. I just hardley ever see single dad Az freaking out over a lil baby. And scared af reader.

"Wounds"

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: talk of child loss/difficult pregnancy, angst, language, fluff, Az being a worried dad, slight Elain slander, happy ending:)

Word Count: 7.8k

a/n: anon, i know this took ages, but i wanted to get it right. i personally have never experienced this, but i hope i did it justice. my thoughts go out to everyone on here who has experienced child loss or hard pregnancies! <3

Enjoy!

"Please stop crying. Please," Azriel begged, his eyes looking worriedly down at the bundle in his arms. No amount of coddling or singing or rocking seemed to soothe the baby, and he was at his wit's end with exhaustion. He held his son close, savoring the warmth radiating from him. "Come on, Ky. What do you need?"

Kyrell, or Ky for short, looked up at Az, his eyes full of tears. His eyes were dark brown, just like his mother's, and Azriel felt a sharp pang in his chest every time he looked at his son. Those eyes brought back memories full of joy, but mostly pain. Azriel couldn't stop his mind from going back to a little over a year ago, back to that day that had changed everything.

"Are you sure, Elain?" Azriel asked, his voice full of anxiety. His shadows swirled around him, sensing the stress of their master. "Have you talked to Madja?"

Elain squared her shoulders, her face like stone. "Madja was the one who confirmed it. I am sure." She rested a hand over her flat belly. "She said I'm only a few weeks along, but she doesn't think the babe has wings."

Az felt a rush of relief wash through his body. He didn't want to remember what had happened with Feyre, and he would rather die than watch Elain suffer the same way. "Are you... happy? I mean, this was unplanned. We were so careful... I don't know how this happened."

They had both been taking the contraceptive tonic, not willing to take any risks since they were so secretive about their relationship. How had this happened?

Elain took a step forward and took his hands in hers. "I am happy, Az. I've always wanted to be a mother," she said, her voice soft. "Yes, this is unexpected, but this baby is a sign of our love. The outcome of a wonderful and beautiful joining that even the cauldron itself couldn't stop."

Azriel's heart swelled in his chest. He pulled his hand from hers, lowering it to rest on her belly. He could already imagine the life growing inside of her, the future they would have together. He pulled her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her hair. "I don't know how to be a father," he admitted. "But we can figure it out together."

Elain wrapped her arms around his waist, careful of his wings. "Together," she agreed.

Those had been fake words and empty promises. Only a few days after Ky's birth, Elain had disappeared quite literally into the night, leaving everything she owned in the townhouse. Az had returned from a short mission in Winter Court to his son crying in his crib and a note on the nightstand saying that Elain had left to be with Lucien. That she had decided to accept the bond and live with him. That she wanted to leave Azriel and their son to live a happy and carefree life.

Unfortunately, being the single father of a newborn didn't give Azriel much time to grieve, or even be angry, about what happened. So he had done what he always did and buried his feelings deep down into his soul. He had a baby to take care of, and he was afraid of what could happen if he let himself feel.

Ky's wail tore through the room, bringing Azriel back to the present. He had cried like this almost every night for the last few weeks, and Azriel couldn't take it anymore. He wasn't cut out to be a father. He couldn't do this. He should have been more careful with Elain. He should have-

"He's teething," Feyre said from the doorway. She made her way into the room, her footsteps light. "They cry like that when they're teething."

Azriel looked down at Ky as he said, "Does that... hurt them?" He ignored how stupid the question sounded as he asked it.

Feyre smiled softly as she held her hands out. "It's uncomfortable for them, and crying is the only way they can tell you. May I?" she asked, her brows raised in expectation. "I do have some experience with this, you know."

Azriel gently handed Ky to Feyre, his wings drooping to the floor. He had moved into the River House after Elain had left. He had tried to do things on his own, not wanting to inconvenience his family. But after a few weeks of not sleeping, or eating for that matter, Rhys and Feyre had all but dragged him into their home, stating that if he didn't move in with them, they would order it as his High Lord and High Lady.

It had been difficult at first, but now he was so thankful for their help. They knew how to raise a baby because of Nyx, and he gladly accepted any advice they offered. They kept their distance, though, allowing Az to figure out fatherhood on his own.

"I'm sorry if he woke you," Az said quietly. "How long does this last?"

Feyre smiled down at Ky, her hand running over his tuft of black hair. "Until their teeth come in." She looked up at Az, and her face hardened as she saw his expression. "This is normal, Az. Healthy, even. It means he's growing, which is a good thing. But for tonight, Rhys is whipping together a salve we used on Nyx to help with the pain. He should have it ready in the next few minutes."

Azriel released a breath, his shadows moving to swirl around Ky. His shadows loved his son, loved swirling around him to make him giggle. "Thank you," Az murmured to Feyre. "For... for all of this. I don't think I would be standing if it weren't for you and Rhys."

Feyre smiled, her eyes bright with emotion. "You're welcome, Az. I would never let one of my closest friends and nephew suffer." She winked at him. "Besides, who else would babysit while you go on a mission?"

Right, his missions. Since Ky had been born, Azriel had gone on a few missions, but he had reluctantly learned how to delegate the harder ones to his spies. He couldn't risk something happening to him now that he had a son to raise, so he only took the easier ones, and he was never gone for more than two days.

"Ky does love to play with Nyx," Azriel murmured quietly as if that was a good enough reason for his son to be left here while he was gone. What would Az do when Ky got older? How would he explain to him the details of his job to his son? What if Ky didn't-

Az was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't realize Feyre had moved closer to him. "Speaking of missions," she said quietly, her voice low. "Rhys needs you to go to Day Court. Nothing serious, of course. Just routine surveillance."

Azriel nodded distantly, his mind going numb. "Of course. I can leave in the morning." His mind was already racing, preparing to become the shadowsinger and spymaster of the Night Court and not a scared single father.

Feyre smiled softly, her hand cradling Ky's tiny head. "Don't worry about Ky. We will watch him."

For a few moments, the world narrowed down to his sleeping son in his High Lady's arms. He looked so vulnerable and frail, and Az was overcome with a wave of anger and rage.

How could Elain do this to him? Azriel didn't care if she felt nothing for him, but how could she look at this perfect child and decide to leave?

Azriel locked those feelings away as fast as they came, choosing to ignore them rather than face them head-on. "I'll get the details from Rhys in the morning," he said finally. "A routine trip to Day Court can't be that difficult."

---

It turned out that a routine trip to Day Court could be that difficult. Immediately upon arrival, Azriel quickly realized how much training his spies here lacked. He had spent hours rehashing the basics—how to blend into a crowd, how to remain silent in the shadows. These spies were supposed to be his eyes and ears, yet they couldn’t even follow the simplest of protocols.

Most infuriating of all, they hadn’t been sharing information with each other. One claimed to know about the political shifts happening within the Day Court, but when pressed, they admitted it was only rumors. Another had no idea about the movements of the court’s key players. It was as if they were all operating independently, blind to the larger picture.

Prythian was shifting, changing, and these people had failed to notice. Azriel’s temples pulsed with a dull ache, the constant incompetence chipping away at his already thinning patience. How had it gotten this bad? How had they let things slip so far?

By the time the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the streets of the Day Court, he was no longer hiding in the shadows. There was no point. His headache had grown unbearable, a sharp reminder of how much he longed to be somewhere else—anywhere else. He thought of his son. He missed him fiercely, the boy’s infant giggle, the way his tiny hands would reach up for him when he returned home.

But now, he was trapped in this beautiful, sunlit prison, surrounded by spies who couldn’t even spy. The thought made him grit his teeth.

He had just turned the corner onto another street when he was stopped in his tracks. Before him stood the most beautiful female he had ever seen, but what caught his attention was her feathery white wings. They shimmered faintly in the sunlight, as if they had been dipped in iridescent powder.

"Hey, watch it asshole!" The yell came from a disgruntled bystander who didn't appear to be happy with Azriel's sudden stop in the middle of the busy street. With another curse, the bystander made their way around Azriel's hulking form, so obviously out of place here in Day.

Azriel shrugged it off, taking a step forward to keep walking down the street, but he was stopped by the sound of a lovely female voice.

"It's not every day we get someone from the Night Court around here," the female said with a smile.

Azriel blinked. It seemed that the commotion on the street had been loud enough to catch the beautiful female's attention. She now stood before him, her white wings tucked in tight.

"Am I that obvious?" Azriel asked finally. He had years of practice at blending in, and this female had called him out immediately.

She chuckled, the sound soft like wind chimes. "Well, black isn't really a Day Court color. And," she said, gesturing to his wings, "I don't know of another court that has winged males."

Azriel shrugged nonchalantly. "You never know. Maybe I'm from a court nobody has ever heard of. I could be an undiscovered creature, here to make a home in Day Court."

Azriel had always been good with females, never struggling to use his charms and looks to woo them. Hell, he usually didn't have to even say anything.

But right now, he honestly didn't know what the fuck he was saying. An undiscovered creature? If Cassian ever heard about this...

The female laughed again, this time tipping her head back. Azriel was mesmerized by the sound, his chest tingling. "You're not a creature," she said matter-of-factly. "You're Azriel. The shadowsinger."

Az crossed his arms, his eyes looking at the female warily. "You've heard of me?" He knew he had a reputation in Prythian, and it wasn't a good one. Normally, it wouldn't bother him if others knew what he did, but something about this female made him want to fall to his knees and repent for all of the wrongs he had done.

"Of course I have. You fought in the War." She was smiling at him, her cheeks dimpling slightly. "Besides, I've always been curious about shadowsingers, so it's only right that I would know about the only one alive."

His shadows were swarming him now, despite the bright sun. We like her, they whispered to him. She is different than the others.

Az cleared his throat, his eyes on her wings "Your wings... I've never seen any like that before."

She looked over her shoulder at her wings. "I got them from my mother, or so my father says. I wouldn't know. She died when I was young, and I don't remember her very well." Despite the dark turn of the conversation, her tone was light, her smile still plastered on her beautiful face.

Azriel found himself smiling slightly. "Well, they are very beautiful." He felt a blush creep onto his cheeks as the compliment left his lips, but her bright smile washed it away.

"Thank you, Azriel," she responded, her eyes bright. She tilted her head as one of his shadows wrapped itself around her wrists. "I like your shadows," she said with a giggle.

His shadows never acted like this with anyone, not even Elain. With Ky, they were protective mother hens, but now, they almost seemed... enamored.

Azriel was not usually the type of male to ask a female out who he had quite literally just met. But he knew he would hate himself if he didn't at least offer her dinner, so after a few moments of watching his shadows swirl around her, he asked, "Would you like to join me for dinner tonight?"

She looked up from his shadows, her brows raised. She sheepishly bit her lip as her wings twitched. "I would," she said. She offered him her hand, rings glinting on her fingers. "I'm Y/N, by the way. I figured you would ask my name before asking me out on a date, but I have always heard of the strange Night Court customs."

Azriel took her hand, fighting the urge to look at his scarred skin against her perfect flesh. "My apologies. I, uh, I-" He struggled to come up with an excuse for his lack of manners, but he came up short.

She patted him on the shoulder gently. "I can forgive you. As long as you pay." She clicked her tongue, looking past him to the shops lining the streets. "Day Court is amazing, but I swear it has the most expensive food..."

Azriel smiled as he listened to her ramble on, following her as she made her way through the crowd. His shadows still swarmed her, but she didn't seem to mind.

After all, it was only one date, and then he would go back to the Night Court... and to his beloved son.

---

One date turned into three, and Azriel couldn't help but admit to himself how much fun he was having. He had not laughed this hard in ages, and even though he had only known her for two days, he felt more open and seen than ever.

He had told her all about his training in the camps, the wars, the Inner Circle. She had listened intently, even diving into her own life. It turns out that she worked at a small bookshop in the city, and she had two roommates in a small townhouse.

She seemed to have such a simple, perfect life, and Azriel found himself full of envy. He tried to fight it, but as he listened to her talk about her daily routines, he wondered what it would be like to live such a life.

"Why were you up at three in the morning, anyway?" she said with a laugh. They were walking down the streets, enjoying the quietness that came with nighttime in the Day Court. "Most people are asleep then."

Azriel paused for a moment. He had been telling her of the time he had found Cassian eating an entire chocolate cake with his bare hands in the kitchen. He had been up because Ky had been crying, and he had wandered into the kitchen for a bottle, only to find a chocolate-covered Cassian and a pissed of Nesta.

Azriel had told her many things, more than he had ever told anyone, but he left out the fact he had a son. He didn't know how to bring that up, afraid she would judge him, or worse... take pity on him for his unfortunate situation. The thought of someone feeling sorry for him twisted his stomach, and he wasn't ready to see that look in her eyes.

"I couldn't sleep," he said at last. "What? They don't have midnight snacks here in the Day Court?"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Midnight snacks, yes. Three-in-the-morning snacks, absolutely not."

"Well, you're missing out. You should really try-"

Azriel was cut off as a young fae female walked up. She was pretty, with pointed ears and bright red hair. In her arms, she held a small child, no older than two or three. The child was wrapped in a pink blanket, sleeping soundly against the female's chest.

Azriel's heart clenched as a wave of homesickness swept over him. He missed Ky terribly. He knew he was doing alright, thanks to his earlier check-in with Rhys and Feyre, but he longed to be the one holding his baby. He could almost feel the weight of his son in his arms, the scent of him, the way his little hands would reach for Azriel in the middle of the night.

"Y/N!" the female greeted, her tone warm. "I haven't seen you around in ages! How have you been?"

Azriel's companion smiled, but he could see something dark in her eyes. "I've been... good." Her voice was tighter than usual, all signs of her earlier laughter gone. "And you?"

"Oh, you know. Tired all the time, thanks to the little one crying at all hours of the night." The female smiled softly, bouncing the child gently in her arms.

Azriel could understand that, at least. He would never forget the time he almost put his boots in the fridge instead of the milk because of his exhaustion.

"Yes, well. I've always heard motherhood can be difficult, but you look amazing- if that counts for anything." As Y/N spoke, Az noticed how she made it a point not to look at the sleeping child, keeping her eyes on her friend's face.

Perhaps, she didn't like children? Or maybe she wasn't really friends with this woman, and she was trying to appear uncomfortable to get out of the situation?

The other female's gaze lowered for a moment. "I am sorry. I.. I-" she stammered for a few moments before shaking her head, seeming to right her thoughts. "Right. Well, I'll leave you two alone." She smiled kindly at Az. "Enjoy your evening."

She quickly hurried off, leaving Azriel to stare at Y/N. "Are you alright?" he asked lowly, daring to place a gentle hand on her arm. Her gaze had gone nearly vacant, and he decided he would do anything to bring back the warmth from earlier.

She blinked whatever emotion she was fighting away. "I'm fine. That woman is always driving me up the walls. Always coming into my store, asking if I can spare any free books."

Azriel nodded, but something told him there was more to the story. He decided not to press it. "Shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm.

The two of them made their way down the street, once again laughing and carrying on as if nothing had happened. But there was still a shadow there, a voice telling him that there were still pieces of her that he didn't understand.

---

The mating bond snapping into place took Azriel completely by surprise. It was Azriel's last night in the Day Court, and she had been showing him her bookstore.

She had handed him a new arrival, her eyes alight with passion, when he had felt that snap inside of his chest. He had stumbled back into a shelf, his wings pushed against the wood, his hand on his chest. He was still struggling to breathe as she leaned over him, her voice soft.

"Azriel?" she asked, her tone full of worry. "Are you alright? Let me go get you some water-"

Mate. You are my mate. His thoughts were drowned out by a deafening ringing in his ears, and it took all of his self-control to not blurt them out in a fit of happiness.

After he regulated his breathing, Az forced himself to stand upright. "I'm fine," he murmured, his eyes on her face. She was looking at him with worry and shock, her arms out to catch him in case he stumbled again. "Are you- do you feel anything?"

Her brows furrowed as she shook her head. "No. Other than worrying about you tearing down my new bookshelf," she said, but there was a teasing smile on her lips.

I guess the bond only snapped for me, Azriel thought to himself. It made sense, of course, but it would make things a lot less complicated if she felt it, too.

It was in that moment that Azriel decided that she needs to see all of him. Where he comes from, his family... his son. If she wanted to be his mate, it would be on her terms, not his.

He ignored the voices plaguing his mind, telling him that this wonderful female would never choose him, especially once she realized the baggage he carried. No, he let himself feel this happiness, the first true happiness he had felt in a long time.

His mate. He had found his mate.

"You know tonight is my last night here," he said, taking a step toward her. "But, maybe we can have more nights together?"

She had been in the process of placing the book on a table, but her hand stopped as she heard his words. "What do you mean?"

Azriel bit his lip as nervousness filled his chest. "I mean I would like to take you to the Night Court. Just for a visit, of course." He smiled at her, feeling awkward for the first time in centuries. "So you can see all of the strange rituals we have there."

For a moment, Az thought she would decline. Her face paled slightly, and her lips tightened. But eventually, a beautiful smile bloomed across her face, like the sun rising at dawn.

"I would like that," she said cheerfully. "I haven't left Day in a while. Are you wanting to leave tonight?"

He thought his heart would beat out of his chest with happiness, but he forced his voice to remain steady. "We could, as long as you have everything in order here with the store."

She placed the book on the table and took his hands in hers. "I can talk to my roommates. They can keep eyes on the place while we're gone. I need a vacation, anyways."

Azriel laughed, the sound deep and joyous. He gestured a hand toward the door. "After you," he said. "I've been wanting to see what those wings look like in flight."

---

Her wings were the most beautiful things he had ever laid his eyes on. Even though it was dark, they shimmered under the moonlight, their color shifting to silver.

They laughed as they flew, and Az was surprised at how well she could keep up with him. She was able to follow his maneuvers expertly, dipping and rolling along with him. He made it a point to ask her who she was trained by later.

The River House was quiet when they landed. His shadows alerted him to the fact that Rhys, Feyre, Nyx, Ky, Nesta, and Cassian were all inside, having just finished dinner.

"It seems that everyone is here," he murmured to her, taking her hand in his as he walked up the steps. "This is your last chance to turn back."

She pulled her eyes away from her surroundings long enough to look at him. "After I flew all this way? I don't think so," she said with a giggle.

He pushed the door open, his hand still in hers. He led the way into the small sitting room, the air warm and smelling of citrus and jasmine. His family was all here, seated in chairs around the fire. His eyes roamed the room, looking for Ky, and he found him sleeping in a small basket next to the fire. Nyx was sleeping next to him, the small boy having placed his hand protectively over the babe.

Azriel felt his chest ease at the sight of his son, safe and warm. He wanted to run to him, but he needed to ease his mate into this.

"Az," Rhys greeted, standing up from his chair. "We were wondering if you would be back tonight." He walked toward them, a smile on his face, but that smile faltered a little when he saw the female next to his brother. "And who is this?"

She stepped forward, radiating confidence as she introduced herself. "I'm sorry for intruding on your evening, but Azriel offered to show me around the Night Court. I've always heard lovely things about it."

Azriel met Rhys's violet stare. A stranger in Velaris, Az? Rhys asked into his mind. You were only supposed to go on a routine mission.

Azriel decided it was best not to beat around the bush. She's my mate. She means no harm. She is kind. And nice. And I wanted her to meet all of you.

Rhys nodded slightly. He raised a brow. Everyone?

Azriel glanced over at Ky. Everyone, he responded.

Rhys must have communicated with Feyre, because she gracefully walked over to Ky, sweeping him gently up in her arms. She smiled affectionately at Nyx as she moved over to Azriel. "He's been sleeping well," she whispered. "And eating well. I swear he's gained ten pounds since you were gone."

Azriel could no longer deny his paternal instincts, so he quickly took Ky in his arms, savoring the warmth radiating from his small body. "Did you miss me, little one?" he murmured to him as his shadows swarmed the baby, searching for any sign of distress or harm.

Azriel turned, a smile on his face as he found his mate's face. He expected her to be curious, or shocked, at the sight of a baby in his arms.

But nothing could have prepared him for the look of raw pain on her face as she looked at Azriel and Ky. "Who is that." It wasn't a question. Her voice was hard and tight, and Az swore she was holding back tears.

"This is Ky," he said gently, worry and fear creeping in as he took in her expression. "My son."

She quickly tore her eyes away, searching around the room. They fell on Nyx, who was still sleeping soundly on the floor, and she stepped back as a gasp flew from her lips.

Azriel could sense the unease radiating off Rhys and Feyre, already preparing themselves to defend their family. Cassian and Nesta stood next to each other on the far side of the room, their backs straight, their eyes holding predatory intent.

It was only Azriel, who was still holding Ky, who forced himself to remain calm. "Would- would you like to hold him? He's quite small, but he's so warm and-"

"NO!" she screamed, her body trembling as she stepped backward toward the door. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she covered her face with her hands. "I can't. No. No. No."

Feyre quickly stepped forward, taking Ky out of Azriel's arms. Calm her down. Now, Azriel, she whispered into his mind, but it was the voice of the High Lady.

"Come on," he muttered to his mate, reaching for her arm to pull her outside. "Let's go outside." She didn't fight him as he hauled her through the door and down the steps. The night air was cold, but Azriel didn't feel it.

He could only feel pain, anger, rage, and a hurt like no other. What had he said or done to send her into this kind of panic? Was the thought of him being a father truly so horrible?

Once they were outside, she ripped herself out of his grasp. "I'm going home." Her voice was distant now, devoid of any emotion.

He moved to step in front of her, his eyes pleading. "Please. Let me explain all of this-"

She pushed him out of the way, her wings unfurling as she prepared to take flight. "You're a nice male, Azriel," she said. "I... like you. I do. But you should have told me about this. About him."

Azriel fought the urge to snarl at her tone when speaking about his son. "Is it really that bad that I'm a father?" Though he was angry, his voice came out broken.

She looked at him then, her eyes softening slightly. "No. It's the fact that you don't understand. You could never understand."

"Then tell me! Help me understand!"

She shook her head as she pushed off the ground, his wings catching the air, hauling her up. "Goodbye, Azriel."

Her voice carried on the wind as Azriel watched her take off into the night, taking a piece of his heart with her.

---

1 year later

"Come on, Ky. You can do it!" Azriel encouraged, his hands out to catch Ky. The Velaris sun was blinding, but Az kept his attention on his boy, not daring to miss the sight of him taking his first steps.

Ky was standing on small, wobbly knees, his tiny face scrunched up in determination. He took a small step forward, then another, and another-

"Gods! You're doing it, son!" Azriel exclaimed in happiness.

Ky took one more step before his tiny legs gave out, but Azriel was there to catch him, as he always would be. He swooped him up, pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek. "I'm glad to know you got that determination from me, at least," he said to Ky.

Ky gave him a toothy smile as he giggled, his attention already captured by Az's shadows as they swarmed him, seeming to offer their own form of praise.

In the last year, Azriel had heard nothing from Elain. He had heard from his spies that she and Lucien had welcomed their own child into the world, a little girl who Azriel had not bothered to learn the name of.

A year ago, he would have been heartbroken beyond repair at the thought of Elain choosing to start a family with another male, even though she already had a family here. But since then, Azriel had taken the time to heal, choosing to let go of any bitterness and anger.

Ky deserved better than having a father who was pissed off at the world, and Az had vowed to himself to be the best father the world had seen. He didn't know what a good father looked like, but he was learning, and he had Rhys and Cass and the rest of his family to help him.

There was one part of his healing that he was struggling with though- his mate. The female who had quite literally flown off into the night at the sight of Ky. Az had not heard from her since that night, so he never got an explanation as to why.

He tried not to hold it against her, hoping that, if they were meant to be together, things would work out in the end.

"Uncle Azriel!" Nyx's voice, though the boy was small, boomed across the lawn. "Want me to take Ky in for his nap?" Nyx was the best cousin to Ky, always making sure the boy was eating and sleeping properly.

Hell, sometimes he was even more on top of things than Azriel was.

"Sure," Azriel said, placing Ky in Nyx's arms. "He just took his first steps. He deserves to rest."

Nyx's eyes widened. "He took his first steps and I missed it?" He blew out a breath. "You should have called for me!"

Azriel chuckled as he ruffled Nyx's black hair. "Sorry, kid. At least you were there for his first word."

In fact, Nyx had been the first word Ky had said. Of course, it had sounded more like "Byx" than anything else, but Nyx had gloated about it for days afterward.

Azriel watched Nyx carry Ky into the house, smiling to himself. It was moments like this that he was thankful for his life. Things had gotten better, so much better. He had a family now, a place where he belonged. A son, a perfect boy who looked just like him-

His thoughts were cut short as he heard soft wing beats from above. Not Illyrian wings, he realized, but something softer, like feathers.

Azriel squinted into the sun, watching small shape grow closer and closer, until the small body of a female landed in front of him.

But it wasn't any female. It was his mate.

"Hello, Azriel," she said, her voice soft. Her face was full of nervousness, and she was biting her lip and wringing her hands. She tucked her wings in tight. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

For a moment, Azriel could only blink at her. She's here. She's really here.

"No. No. Of course not," he blurted out, taking a step toward her. His shadows swarmed her, just as they had when they first met. She smiled down at them, but the smile didn't meet her eyes. "Why are you here? Are you in danger?"

She shook her head, her hair falling around her shoulders. "No. I'm fine. Everything is fine." She went back to biting her lip again as she spoke. "I've been thinking... I think you deserve an explanation of what happened last year. I owe you that. The way I reacted was wrong, and I want to explain."

"You don't owe me anything," Az said, running a hand through his hair. "I should have told you about Ky. It was wrong of me to force him onto you like that."

She smiled again. "No. You did nothing wrong. I don't know your situation, but..." She took a step forward, craning her head up to look at him. "I would like to hear about it now if you want to tell me. I promise not to fly away again."

Despite himself, Azriel laughed. He angled his head over to a small table and chairs Feyre had set up on the east end of the house. "We can talk over there," he said. "Nobody will disturb us."

The two of them walked in silence, the soft wind rustling through the trees. Azriel was nervous, not knowing what to say to carry on an easy conversation. He could feel the unease radiating from his mate, so he decided it was best to keep his mouth shut.

“You go first,” she said once they had situated themselves in the chairs. “My story is… well- just go first, Az. Please.” Her voice trembled at the end of her sentence, her eyes watery.

Azriel reached a hand over and laid it atop her own, squeezing gently. He took a deep breath before letting the painful story spill from his lips. He told her of Elain and the short romance that had followed the War. He told her of Ky's birth and the disaster that had followed. He spoke to her of his feelings, the feelings that he had not spoken to anyone, not even his family.

By the end, silent tears were streaming down his face, and he sucked in a breath as she gently reached over and wiped them away, her face full of understanding.

"She just... left?" she asked, her voice full of something like wonder, as if she couldn't understand how a mother could do that to her child. "And you've been raising Ky on your own?"

Azriel nodded once. "Well, mostly on my own. My family has been helping me, but that hasn't made it easy."

She took a deep breath, her eyes on his face. "I am sorry that happened. I don't think I would have survived that, if I were in your position." She paused for a moment, biting her lip.

"You don't have to tell me your story, you know," Azriel said, his tone gentle. "Believe me, I understand that some things are... difficult to discuss."

"I was married once," she said abruptly, her eyes moving to look at the city. "We were so happy together, but we were only missing one thing. A child."

Azriel's heart stuttered inside his chest as she spoke. He forced his face to neutrality, not wanting the warring emotions inside his mind to scare her.

She continued on, her voice vacant, "We tried for years to get pregnant, but it wasn't easy for us. We had so many false positives, and each time it happened, I felt as if a piece of my heart broke. We finally gave up, so we were surprised when I got pregnant a few years later."

"We were happy, so happy... but I had a hard pregnancy. By the third month, I was already placed on strict bedrest, completely forbidden to leave my bed except to relieve myself or get food. The labor was even worse. It took two days for our babe to arrive, but the pain and suffering was worth it to hold him in my arms. To hear his little cries and to feel him wrap his tiny hand around my finger."

Azriel watched silently as her eyes filled with tears, but he was too shocked to move. He had a horrible pit in his stomach, afraid of where this story was going.

"My family lived in peace for a few years. We had such a quiet life, you see, filled with so much love and joy... I never thought of how fast it could all be ripped away..." The tears in her eyes spilled over, coating her cheeks. "There was a male in Day Court. He was a harsh man, but he had always liked me. He was the one who taught me how to fly. He was in love with me, so he got angry when I got married, and even angrier when I had a child. I never thought he would do anything, though. I was so wrong..."

"One night, we were sleeping in our home. The male broke in and pulled my husband and me out of bed. I was so shocked, I was unable to fight, unable to do anything as I watched him go to my son's bedroom. I couldn't do anything as I watched my husband try to fight him off, only to get killed in the process. I was helpless as I listened to my boy's cries grow louder and louder, only to be silenced as he was murdered... Because of me."

She started sobbing uncontrollably, and it was all Az could do to wrap her in his arms, trying his best to shield her from the horrors of her memories.

She was breathless as she continued on, her face pressed against Azriel's chest. "What kind of mother am I? I couldn't even protect my own child when he needed me the most. I couldn't face what I had done, so I ran after that, moving into the capital city. I didn't even bury my son. There's no place I can go to honor his memory... I tried to forget my prior life, not telling anyone what had happened. My roommates don't even know."

She pulled away from him, tipping her face to look up at his. "That's why I ran, why I couldn't look at my friend's child that night. It's too painful for me to see a child. I get bombarded with these memories, and all I can see is my son's face, screaming for me to help him."

She was silent after that, her voice broken. So Azriel held her, trying to find the words. But there were really no words to offer a grieving mother. There was nothing he could say to heal these wounds.

Finally, he asked, "What was his name? Your son?"

She froze for a moment, and Azriel worried he had asked the wrong question. But she said, "Alek was his name. He..." She shook her head. "That night when I saw you with Ky... He reminds me so much of my Alek."

Azriel released a breath. "Thank you for telling me. I can't even begin to imagine what that must feel like," he said quietly. "But I need you to know- nothing could ever take away the love you gave Alek, or the love he had for you. You carry that love with you, and you hold onto it." He hesitated for a moment, moving his hand up to cup her face. "I'm here. For whatever you need- whether that's to talk, or to sit and grieve. Just know you're not alone anymore."

Despite her grave expression, she smiled. "Now you're starting to sound like my mate. I was wondering when the sweet talking would start."

Azriel gaped at her, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "You... you knew?"

She nodded. "The bond snapped for me before I flew off that night. I almost stayed, but I knew I needed time to heal before I could be the mate you deserved. So I left, and I've been working on my healing since then. I am better, but I still have hard days, so I understand if you need more time..."

Azriel cut her off with a quick kiss. "I still have hard days, too. But we can face them together. Nobody needs to deal with their problems alone. We can't let the hard days win."

She smiled, and he felt his chest warm as the life returned to her expression. "I would like that. Together," she agreed.

Azriel took a deep breath. "Would you like to see Ky? You don't have to if it will be difficult, but if you stay here..."

"I would love to," she said quietly, her eyes shining. "I'm alright. I want to meet your son."

Azriel led the way into the quiet River House, thankful that most of his family had left for the day. Once they got to Ky's room, he quietly pushed the door open, knowing he was sleeping.

"It's his nap time," he said. "It's probably best you meet him when he's not screaming his head off."

She smiled at Ky as she walked over to the crib, placing her hand on the rails. She looked up to Az, her face warm. "May I hold him?" Her voice was quiet and filled with awe.

Azriel nodded. "Of course you can, love."

Gently, she raised Ky out of the crib, cradling him to her chest. He didn't stir other than snuggling into her warmth, his small face innocent as he slept. "He looks like you," she said quietly, her eyes roaming Ky's face.

"Thank you," Azriel said proudly, a silly smile on his face.

She gasped softly as Ky wrapped his hand around his finger, his hand so small. He murmured contentedly as he slept, and Azriel realized Ky had never had this. Of course Feyre and Nesta had held him, but he had never had someone hold him with a motherly love.

Azriel's heart warmed at the sight, and he couldn't help himself as he walked over, and wrapped them tightly in his arms.

They stood there in the quiet, and Azriel swore he could hear the sounds of old wounds healing,

---

6 months later

"Where are we going, Az?" she asked, giggling as Azriel pulled her to the outskirts of the city. "There's nothing over here."

He looked back at her, offering her a wink. "That's what you think, angel."

The last six months had been filled with happiness, joy, and healing. They both had hard days, but they had been there for each other every time, honoring their promise to face it together.

Ky was growing faster than Azriel liked. He was walking and talking now, and he was even learning how to eat by himself. Just earlier this morning, Azriel had whined, complaining that his son would no longer need him soon.

She had slapped him gently on the arm. "That's what babies do, Az," she had said, kissing him gently on the cheek. "They grow, yes, but they will always need us."

She had become a mother to Ky, there was really no other way to put it. She would clean him and put him to bed, doing all the things that Azriel himself had struggled to manage with ease. A few weeks ago, Ky had called her "Mama", which caused her to cry with happiness and pain commingled.

The two of them were set to accept their mating bond next week, and Azriel couldn't be happier. They had learned so much about each other, and he had found himself falling more and more in love with this female each day. There was one thing he needed to do, though, which was why he was dragging her to this place.

On the outskirts of Velaris, there was an opening in the trees to a place where many people didn't go. At least, not those who had never experienced the loss of a loved one.

As they walked up the path, he could see the small stones poking out of the ground, their engravings holding the names of the people in the ground.

"Azriel," she said quietly, her hand tight in his, "why did you bring me to a cemetery?"

He smiled softly at her, leading her to a small stone, newer than the others, its engraving easy to read. "I wanted you to see this."

She looked at the stone, her eyes filling with tears as she read the words there.

Alek

"Forever Loved, Never Forgotten"

Though your time was brief, your light will shine in our hearts for all eternity.

In the embrace of the stars, you rest, but in our hearts, you live on.

Azriel watched her face as she read, worrying if he had chosen the right words to put on the headstone. Maybe he should have made it shorter? Was it too much?

He was pulled from his thoughts as she suddenly wrapped her arms around him, throwing her body against his. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she said between sobs. "It's perfect, Az."

"I know his body isn't here, but you can come here whenever you like. To remember him," Azriel said as he held her, running his hands through her hair.

She pulled away then, her eyes bright with love. "I can't wait to be your mate," she said, smiling through the tears.

Azriel laughed, his heart full. The wounds of the past would always linger, like shadows that never fade. But with those you love by your side, even the deepest scars could begin to heal, and in their place, hope could grow.

general tag list: @quiet-loser @andreperez11 @lilah-asteria

@anarchiii @inkedinshadows @panther-girl-124

@scorpioriesling @olive-main @scarsandallaz

[deathbyathousandspiders]

Hey so I don't usually request so sorry if this is a mess but can you do how Peter Parker would deal with you being dusted right in his arms and the aftermath of how he'd cope. (Even better if your starks daughter and they share the grief)

okay so i wrote this with you and peter getting dusted and how tony would cope, but pt. two will be how you and peter cope with tony’s death🤭🤭

i promise it’s still angsty!

WARNINGS – gory, angsty asf, rewriting the ending of infinity war so if you watched it recently it might feel repetitive, i forget if there’s swearing but here you go just in case<3

✨masterlist.✨

1.5k.

You knew it was risky to follow Tony and the wizard that morning. God, you knew it was risky. It’d been like any other morning–out for a run with your dad: talking about projects, talking about his engagement to Pepper, watching the immediate protective shift he had when a portal appeared on the shoreline path in front of you.

The grave look on his face said it all.

And you knew the risks. You’d signed up for these kinds of dangers when you were born with the Stark name. It was a target sewn to your back by DNA. The same genes gave you the stubborn spirit to sneak onto an alien spacecraft to help your dad; genes that made you look like the spitting image of him when you’d found out Peter Parker also had the same idea.

In hindsight, you were glad your boyfriend made the trip. It made you feel better protected.

Especially seeing as you lost.

If someone were to tell you on your run that morning that you’d take a punch to the gut and a dagger to the thigh by later that evening, you would stand speechless. If someone were to have told you that you’d lose this badly, and nearly lose your dad in the process, you wouldn’t believe them.

Laying on the dry–graveled surface of whatever planet this was, you pushed yourself up as high as you could. Your upper thigh screamed with blood and the burn of a fresh cut. It was the deepest one you’d ever received. A hushed whimper forced a response out of you at the feeling, making your father turn his attention towards you.

You regretted even being there the second it all happened.

With his head turned to his left, toward you, Tony lost his footing, meeting the fatal kiss of Thanos’ dagger right to the stomach. You watched the blood instantly choke out through his lips, and the way he stammered back as the purple giant shoved him harshly into a rock.

“NO!!” You shouted, as if your cry stop it. As if it would save him. You couldn’t lose your father. You couldn’t live without him. You didn’t even want to think of the possible outcome.

One of your arms gave out, shoving you face–first back into the ground beneath you. Your eyes welled with tears, and you tried to fight against your own pain to make your way over, to say goodbye. To try and fix this. You had to fix this.

“Stop!” The world stilled as Dr. Strange spoke up “Spare his life..” Dr. Strange sat up, pained. Pained and protesting, but willing. The tone of his voice gave you chills. “And I’ll give you the stone.” It wasn’t a request, nor a bargain, rather than a demand.

“No tricks?” The single drop of blood glistened off Thanos’ temple in the several setting suns of the planet, highlighting how little patience Thanos had left, too. Highlighting just how much Tony Stark bled out at his mercy beside him.

Without a word, Stephen maneuvered the air and the Time Stone appeared between his thumb and his first finger.

And thus, Thanos agreed.

In a manner of moments, you’d pressed yourself off the ground, standing. You used some tech your father lent you to spray some sort of temporary stitch–up over your wound for the time being. Looking up, you met your father’s eyes and saw the stabbed indent disappear. Dr. Strange handed the stone over with a white flag and a twinge of regret. You felt the world shift as it happened, the gravity of it growing heavy.

Everything you knew was changing.

Thanos vanished, leaving you all to sit in the feeling and process what had happened. You felt it in your gut that this loss would be horrendous, but the only thing that ran through your mind was making sure your dad was okay.

Limping, you rushed over as quickly as you could, hugging him with all the strength you had to muster. You didn’t care that you were crying. You didn’t care that your body was lined with dirt and blood and bruises. You held him tightly, and kept yourself from processing what the hell happened. Kept yourself from the distraction of Peter Quill blasting the space that Thanos just stood in.

“Did we just lose?” He asked, misery and frustration and denial clear in his voice.

But you and Tony ignored him. Your father held your face in his hands, taking you in with the fear that it might be his last time ever doing so. “Whatever happens, I love you.” He told you, and the words tattooed in your memory and stood alone among anything else he’d ever told you. You cling to them with every ounce of energy you had left.

“Whatever happens, I love you too.” You repeated back to him, ignoring the trembling in your lip.

Peter rushed over to the two of you, hugging both of you tightly. Both your dad and Peter helped you stand upright, but Tony handed you off to Peter while he confronted the wizard.

Tony looked at Strange with a look of both gratitude and confusion. “Why would you do that?”

“It was the only way.” Dr. Strange took a few shaky breaths, his expression unreadable. “We’re in the endgame now..” Was the only response he allowed, the universe allowed.

“Uhh, Mister Stark!” Peter called out, his grip morphing on you. The way he held you suddenly got tighter, more secure, more protective; as if you slipped through his fingers, or you would, or you were dying. His breath quickened, like something grave was happening. “Mister Stark!! Something’s happening!”

Tony didn’t waste a second before he walked over to the two of you, watching as Peter lowered you to the ground, cradling you in his arms. Nothing was happening, as far as you were aware, you didn’t feel anything. And Tony didn’t see anything.

But the sweat that traced Peter’s temple wasn’t something unnoticed. The way he held you, the way he looked at you, Tony knew Peter was sensing the state of their loss. “Kid?” Tony asked, sitting beside you two, grabbing one of your hands and squeezing Peter’s shoulder with the other. “Kid, what’s happening?”

Peter was between hyperventilating and being entirely speechless. His head shook rapidly, glancing from you and Tony. “I’m not–” Tears lined his eyes, quick to run down his face. “I’m not sure.. But I don’t–”

“Something’s happening.”

Each of you turned to Mantis as she spoke, soon obliterating, turning to dust on spot and dissipate into nothing. She was simply gone.

Panic. Pure panic flooded the air.

Drax’s focus went to his hand as it started in his fingers, his hand disappearing. “Quill?” His tone was nothing but concernment, uncertainty. Then he was gone, too.

“Steady, Quill.” Your dad quipped, watching the space where Peter Quill stood.

It started in his legs, traveling up his body as he turned into the same textured substance. “Oh, man..” And his face lingered, imprinting the dust before blowing off with the breeze.

“Tony..” Stephen spoke up, seeing the look in your dad’s eyes. Seeing the thoughts as they ran courses, miles, laps in Tony’s head. “It was the only way.” He repeated. His tone was apologetic as he, too, fractured into immeasurable pieces. His body turned to molecules, fading into the air.

Peter swallowed thickly, beads of sweat dripping from his hairline. His knuckles were white around your hand as you brought them to your lips and kissed it. You weakly squeezed your father’s hand, smiling up at the both of them. “I love you guys.” And as if you knew what was happening, spouting from your legs and spreading to your fingers, you turned to dust, too.

Your father tried to catch it, squeezing his fingers tightly around the space your hand had just been. He felt tears sting his eyes as you vanished in front of him. His whole world, his daughter, gone in a matter of seconds.

“Mister Stark..” Peter broke the deafening silence. “I don’t–” His eyes studied the hand that had just held yours, eyes glossy with grief and denial. “I don’t feel so good..”

His breaths were choked, ached, agonized as his legs gave way. Tony watched the way he turned to dust just as everyone else had. He kept hold of Peter’s shoulder, speechless. Tony couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

Peter looked to him, panicked. Completely and utterly panicked. “I don’t wanna go.” He repeated the phrase like it was all he knew, “I don’t wanna go. I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go–” And when the pain became immeasurable, undeniable; when his fate was sealed, he took a final breath, clenching his jaw to try and keep himself from breaking in his final moment. “I’m sorry..” And just like that, he was gone.

He was gone, and Tony was alone. He stared at Nebula, nervous that if he looked away, she’d disappear too. The two didn’t know each other well at all, but her company was something he grasped onto like water. He clung to anything and everything she had to offer, hoping to God they’d make it out of this.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to live without you, but knew he needed to. If there was any shot or hope or reality of getting you back, Tony needed to get to it. He had to find it, and he wouldn’t rest until he did.

[lady-phasma]

In the fading light

Daemon Targaryen x fem Dornish!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, but I was going for soft!Daemon so I don't think there are that many warnings this time.

Summary: Daemon comes to visit you at Godsgrace, the seat of House Allyrion, in Dorne. Kind of an AU in the sense that Rhaenyra isn't the object of his love, nor his motivation for "ending his marriage" to Rhea. 2.6k words

From the request here - romantic Daemon inspired by the song "kalam eineh" (Words of his eyes) by Sherine. I was able to work in a few lyrics as well ("the one whose eyes the moon envied" and "get lost in his beauty").

a/n: Dorne is a very big place and all of the houses are as different as the Northern houses. So as I write more Dornish!reader fics I start to see them uniquely in my headcanon. Godgrace is on a river from what my research tells me, so I think it worked out perfectly that Sherine is Egyptian. I've dropped some Egyptian elements into Godsgrace and that's how it is in my head now. (If there was a face claim for a location think Thebes/Luxor landscape.)

A warm breeze wafted onto the balcony where you and Daemon sat. The sun sank low against the horizon. The river in the distance shone with golds and pinks. A falcon screeched nearby. You turned from the gorgeous view of the Godsgrace river oasis to look at your Prince. He sat, reclined, opposite you. You slid your toes up the inside of his leg, teasing him. He stroked the top of your foot, your ankle, up your shin. Your smooth skin reflected the light of the setting sun much as the river did. Daemon slipped his fingertips under the hem of your thin skirt. The contrast of his pale hand under the bronze fabric was delightful to you. This Northern prince, so accustomed to clouds and darkness. Such a dreary land he came from.

You watched him as he looked out over the Greenblood river. It would be so easy to get lost in his beauty. His hair, his eyes, his mouth, everything about him was entrancing to you. You glanced back out at the river, the people going about their evening paying no attention to the lords and ladies so high above them. Birds circled above fishing boats as the nets were pulled in. Lights began to flicker in windows across the city. You smelled roasted meat and fresh baked bread on the warm air. You would have to dress for the evening meal, if you didn’t request it in your quarters.

“Did you come only because the fool Prince Martell forbade it?” You were genuinely curious. “Or because of your brother?”

“You know that is not the reason,” he spoke softly and continued to stroke your leg. “Their approval means less to me than you think.”

“You risk much coming to Godsgrace.” You wiggled your toes against his thigh.

“It is a fair price,” Daemon replied.

“Surely you are quite rested now, my love,” you goaded. “It is a long journey up the Greenblood, but not so tiring that you would ignore me.” You flashed your eyes at him. They were nearly the color of burnt umber in the fading light. Soon your maids would light torches and candles in your chambers. You would hear them through the diaphanous curtains that hung in the entry of the balcony. Though they would never dare to disturb you, even if you had your Targaryen on the floor in front of them.

Daemon turned his violet eyes toward you, finally pulled from his thoughts. Gods, you thought, even the moon could envy those eyes! The last pink of the sunset caught on his silver hair as it swung freely about his face, tendrils caught in the breeze.

“Quite rested,” he smirked as he spoke. He slipped his hand behind your knee and, reaching forward, grabbed your other leg and pulled you, bodily, to him. Your chair legs screeched against the stone floor as you threw your head back and laughed. When he had you where he wanted you, he smoothed his palms up the inside of your thighs. You rested your bare feet on the seat of his chair on either side of his legs. He pushed your skirt all the way up to your waist as he stared into your eyes. His thumbs grazed the creases of your thighs and you sighed.

“The journey was too long, but certain hindrances are now resolved,” his voice was low and quiet. “I am no longer married.”

You raised an eyebrow at these words. You trailed your fingertips down one of his forearms.

“I hope that it was painless, my prince,” you both knew the mocking of his title was not malicious. He was not your prince and you enjoyed reminding him of that. “You know, you could have stayed in Godsgrace and I could have sent one of my women to dispatch the issue quickly.” Your grin was knowing, yet seductive. Daemon’s response to Northern morality was curious to you. He didn’t want his wife, but could not bring himself to have another while she lived.

“I did not say I did the deed,” he tried not to smile. “Only that it was resolved.” Oh, he was deliciously vile when it suited him. You chuckled at this.

“Well, I had no trouble with the situation,” you grazed his thigh with one foot. “I needed only your devotion, not your marriage.”

“That you will always have, my lady,” he replied as he sank to his knees in front of you. You moved your foot to his shoulder, the other still in his chair, as you languidly spread your legs to make room for him. He looked up at you again, catching your eyes with his as he kissed your thigh, then your belly. You stroked one hand over his silky head as he lowered it and kissed the dark hair between your legs. You heard him inhale, smelling you, and you became even wetter.

Daemon licked the full length of your slit and paused at your pearl. He circled it with the tip of his tongue and you gripped the arms of your chair. He slid an arm around one thigh to steady you. Then he grazed a finger through your folds, finding your entrance quickly, as if he knew your geography by heart. He teased and didn’t slide inside you yet. He used two fingers to circle your opening, almost matching the rhythm of his tongue on your clit. Your hips rocked. You tried, and failed, to get his fingers inside. He stilled you as much as he could and continued for a moment that felt like an eternity.

When he finally slipped his fingers into your wet heat he sucked on your clit and your hands flew to the back of his head. You moaned and pushed against his mouth. You thought you felt him chuckle. You didn’t care. You ground your hips on his mouth and fingers.

“Daemon,” you whispered, as that was as loud as you could manage. “That’s it, just there. Please.”

He rubbed his fingertips against the spot that drove you wild, fighting against your clenching muscles. His tongue resumed its circling movements, but with a slightly quicker pace. Your breathing was becoming shallow and the sounds you made came deep from your chest. He pumped his fingers harder into you, knowing the pressure you needed to reach your climax. Your toes curled on his shoulder. You let go of his head, gripped the arms of your chair again, and your body curled forward as your climax overwhelmed you. You yelled his name, moaned incoherently, and then laughed. He hadn’t stopped, tongue still lapping causing your thighs to twitch. You playfully pushed at his forehead to give you peace.

You leaned forward and cupped his face in your hands. His expression wasn’t playful, as yours was. The look was full of something akin to admiration. You kissed him, roughly. You licked yourself from his lips, his tongue, and moaned into his mouth. He reached up and tangled his fingers into your hair at the nape of your neck, letting some of it loose from the pins that held it in place. Without much grace, he blindly began to release your hair from its confines.

Daemon broke your kiss and began to stand up. You let your fingers trail down his body as he did. You grazed your fingers over his pants, deliberately avoiding the hardness straining the fabric. He pulled pins and a comb from your hair, tossing them on the floor with abandon. You looked up at him, a playfully displeased look on your face for the carelessness he showed for your jewelry, and shook out your hair. It fell in near-black waves down your shoulders and back.

“I need you,” Daemon breathed. His eyes were dark with lust. Still looking up at him from your chair, you pressed your palm over his erection. His eyes nearly closed. His chest rose and fell, trying to maintain his composure. You pressed just a little harder. He grabbed your wrists. It didn’t hurt but made it evident that he couldn’t be teased this evening. You stood, your wrists still in his hands. You raised to tiptoes and pulled at his bottom lip with your teeth. Your eyes narrowed in defiance against being so restrained.

“That’s enough!” He threw you over his shoulder. You squealed and laughed, kicking your feet and pounding your fists lightly against his back. Your laughter bounced off the stone walls as he carried you through the curtains into your chambers. You pushed against him, raising your head to look at the two startled maids, and laughed harder.

“Let me go!” You giggled and kicked your feet but he only held your ankles as he walked you to the bed. You heard the two girls scamper from the room, giggling and twittering.

Daemon dropped you lightly on the bed. You were breathless from laughing. He smiled down at you, but that look was back. What had changed since he had gone North? Your laughter faded into giggles, which in turn faded into quick breaths as he knelt on the bed and kissed his way up your feet, calves, and thighs. He began to unfasten the ties of your skirt at your waist and you helped him with the small buttons of your delicate top.

He licked and kissed the curves of your exposed belly. He nuzzled his nose between your breasts, then kissed each of your nipples. You played with his silky hair, enjoying watching him worship you. When he reached your neck and jaw you began tugging on his shirt, pulling it toward his shoulders. He straightened long enough pull it over his head, then bent down to your mouth again. You kissed him back, hands gripping his neck, stroking his shoulders, down his biceps.

Daemon moved with you, still kissing, as you began to sit up. You gently pressed his shoulders back and guided him to lay down. You straddled his thighs and began pulling at the laces of his pants. He groaned at the pressure of your fingers. You stroked his freed cock, watching your hands move slowly. You enjoyed making him wait but you couldn’t wait any longer. You released him and begin to remove his breeches. Once you had both struggled with that for a moment, you trying not to giggle during the endeavor, you climbed up him and placed yourself on his belly. You could feel his cock pressing against your buttocks. You leaned forward and kissed him and he cupped both of your breasts in his hands.

You lifted your hips enough to reach between you and guide him into your wetness. He growled and squeezed your breasts a bit harder. Slowly, you took him inside you. You raised up, allowing him to keep his hands on you, and pressed your hands against his stomach as you rocked your hips. You took his cock as deep as you could. Gradually, at first, then setting a gentle pace that brought sweet sounds from Daemon’s lips. You leaned forward slightly, finding the angle you needed. He moved his hands, one to your neck, one to your hip. As you settled on a rhythm, he began to match you, thrusting upward slightly each time you rocked back on his cock.

You let your head fall forward, you hair sweeping forward, framing your face and his. Your fingers curled against his chest. You kept this pace as long as you could before your cunt began to ache with the beginnings of your climax. You slowed and Daemon took over. Gripping both of your hips, he fucked up into you, harder than you had been able to manage. His grunts made you squeeze around his cock. They were wonderful sounds that only increased your need for him.

You rested your face against his, pressing your cheeks together. Neither of you could stay quiet. Your name fell from his lips as fluidly as the curses he uttered. His fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you down onto each of his upward thrusts. The sound of flesh against flesh, lewd and satisfying. Your bodies glistened with sweat in the torch light. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him but the pleasure was too great.

“Yes, please, Daemon,” you whined in his ear. Your lips drug across his cheek as you searched for his mouth. You tried to kiss him. Instead you panted and moaned against his mouth. As your climax began the wave that would drown you, you heard his voice, much calmer than yours could have been in that moment.

“Look at me.” You did. He didn’t stop fucking you, but he held your gaze with those perfect eyes. “I love you. I would kill for you. I would kill anyone who kept us apart.”

Something in his eyes, not just his words, was your undoing. Your climax spread over you at the same time as it curled up inside you. You squeezed your thighs against his hips, almost stopping his movements entirely. You bent to him and kissed him, moaning and sighing, as you came.

Suddenly Daemon’s large arms encircled you and in your delirium you could hardly notice that he was moving you. You clung to his shoulders as he somehow, and gracefully, managed to lay you on your back. He had not pulled out. You wrapped your legs around his hips and ran your hands into his hair.

Daemon fucked you without restraint. You were coming down from your climax but your cunt gripped him tight and he grunted with each deep thrust. He shifted his weight to one hand and deftly scooped one of your legs into the crook of his arm. You bit your lower lip and looked up at him. He was watching you.

“Touch yourself,” he panted. “Come on my cock again.” His smile was enough to convince you, if his words hadn’t been.

So you did. You rubbed your fingers quickly, and in time with his strokes. When you were close again, you arched under him, head thrown back, Daemon’s mouth on your exposed neck. Then he pressed his hips against you as hard as he could. His cock buried completely inside you as he came. Your cunt spasmed around him and you both felt his seed fill you as your climax peaked. He cursed and tried to gently lower your leg. Your body shook and you were unable to help him. He chuckled and kissed your forehead.

As he slowly pulled out and away from you, you mewled and groaned, closing your thighs and squeezing them together. Daemon lowered himself down next to you, on his side. He rested his head on your chest. You smoothed his hair away from his forehead in a long stroke down to his back and sighed. You let your hand rest on his shoulder. He held you close to him.

The cool night breeze wicked the sweat off your skin. The torches guttered slightly. You wrapped one leg over Daemon’s. You wanted every part of your body touching his. You breathed in his smell mixed with your own and the dusty sweetness of Godsgrace coming in through the curtains.

“No one will come between us,” Daemon whispered against you.

“I know, my love, my dragon” you replied, lips brushing against the top of his head.

The sun had set and, perhaps, the dark was what he needed. In the light of day The Rogue Prince was rakish and disreputable. But at night, with you, he could shed that facade.

Masterlist

Tags: @black-dread

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.5

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut, slowburn, angst

Summary: You and Daryl grow closer due to feeling out of place in Alexandria. Just when you think you have the old Daryl back, he leaves.

Notes: I think the chapter after this one will be the last chapter, and finally have some cheesy old fashion love making :D Sorry Daryl vanishes at the end tho ):

It never seemed to end for him. In front of everyone else he was silent, emotionless, an empty body on autopilot. But when you'd walk off into the trees to search for water, it always hit him, no matter how many times he'd thought he'd cried out all out and was done with it. 

He clung to you after her death like never before, constantly walking in your shadow and wordlessly begging for some sort of comfort, reassurance, anything. You did the best you could, which ended up being more than either of you expected. You seamlessly morphed into the familiar elder sister role, mirroring the ways you would comfort your bruised baby brother. 

He put a cigarette out on his hand the one time he went off by himself, and not following him was something you came to regret. 

“Daryl,” the whisper of your voice had him cringing, the sound too empathetic and full of concern, he had to fight to keep himself from cracking when your comfort washed over him. 

“I know… I'm not good with words, or shit like this.” You sighed, maintaining a quiet tone, low enough for the sound of rain and the crackle of fire to cover. 

Daryl remained silent as you spoke. He picked at the skin around his fingers, looking down at his hands in his lap, and the sight of your smaller hand lightly touching his wrist makes him jerk. 

“I can't take away your pain, God knows I'd kill every goddamn piece of shit alive to make you feel better.” Your voice turned shaky, and the urge to cry was becoming overwhelming for the both of you. “But... I can promise you, you'll never have to worry about losing me. I just want you to know, I'm that one thing you don't need to worry about. I always will be.” 

Daryl slowly inhaled through his stuffy nose and nodded, the noise dry and shaky, his eyes burning and unblinking from their gaze on your hand. 

“I know.” He finally spoke and nodded again, as if that would magically set it in stone. “Me too.”

Slipping back into your place in the group dynamic was unpleasant after being alone with Gabriel for that long. It wasn't just one person you had to make an effort for anymore, and deep down you despised it. It was almost comparable to going back to school after summer break. You had to play by the rules again, fit into their perfect perception or risk repercussions. 

The discovery of Eugenes lies was all but a surprise to you. You didn't have some wild sense of intuition, you were just a pessimistic person. Although you kept your opinions to yourself, you didn't predict the extent of how deep his lies had been. The cure was a given, obviously, but the fact he lied about being a scientist as well? Lied about the safe place in Washington too? It took everything you had in you not to cave his face in when you saw the look of disappointment on Daryl's face. That's another reason why you hated being in a group. People didn't deserve to be able to let you down, and sure as hell not the one person you gave a shit about. 

People love to parrot that same ‘it has to get worse before it can get better’ bullshit you'd been told by concerned and empathetic authority figures all throughout your childhood. Safe to say it had lost its meaning to you, even when Daryl tried to lift your spirits. 

Well, it sure got better for everyone else. 

You weren't alone in your suspicions about Aaron. For once Rick and you agreed on something, it was a bad idea to go to Alexandria. But the group convinced him to take a chance, that the rewards greatly outweigh the risks, and you watched with a disapproving glare as Aaron led you all past the gates. 

“I'm just going to ask you a few simple questions, get to know you. You don't mind if I record this, do you?” 

You had a feeling your answer wouldn't make any difference, no matter what you said. You shook your head as you watched Deanna turn her video camera on, the big black lens feeling like an intimidating pit waiting to swallow you up if you gave an answer she didn't like. She rounded the couch and sat down, a tight and professional smile on her lips. 

“Let's start with your name.”

You told her your name, trying to behave despite your stomach growling and the sudden awareness that you smelled and looked awful. 

“Where are you from,” She repeated your name. 

“Georgia. Up North.” 

“Did you work?”

“No.”

“What were you before the outbreak?” When you didn't answer, she elaborated. “Were you a student in school, staying at home, traveling…?”

“After high school I stayed home for a couple years. Took care of my mom.” 

“I understand you're close with Daryl, is that right?” 

You must've visibly reacted to that question, because even after you answered, she pressed for more information.

“Did you grow up together?”

“Kind of, we weren't really friends or anything. He lived nearby and I'd see him around.”

Deanna nodded as if she was your therapist listening to some deep-seated trauma. 

“Did you ask anyone else these questions?” You scratched the back of your arm, beginning to feel uncomfortable. 

“I ask everyone all kinds of questions. I want to get to know you all, it's not an interrogation. You don't need to answer any that you don't want to.”

She finally changed the subject to your relationship with Rick's group. Not that you were eager to talk about it, but at least she wasn't grilling you on Daryl anymore. 

“I've been here since before Rick came and took over. Back in Atlanta. Daryl and his brother Merle came to get me when it happened. I thought maybe they were having some bad trip or somethin'. Ran into my house yelling about dead folks coming back to life and eating people. If it wasn't for them, I'd probably be dead too, but, I think they mainly came to get me because they knew my mom had a stash of cigarettes and drugs.” You were chuckling as you spoke, not realizing you had given up so much information without her even asking. You instantly shut up, the amused smile leaving your face. 

“How do you get along with other members of your group?”

You cringed at the phrasing. They weren't your group, they were Daryl's people, you were just a temporary guest without a set time to leave. 

“Fine. Haven't heard any complaints. Have you?”

“No. But I have heard you don't work well with others.” 

You shrugged. 

“Do you want to be here?” The way she would use your name at the end of every few sentences was starting to get under your skin. 

“I'm kinda stuck with wherever Daryl wants to be.” 

Deanna ended the interview after a handful of other unimportant questions and you were allowed to leave, led to your new house by one of her son's. 

You took the longest and hottest shower of your life, only getting out when Abraham started pounding on the door. It brought back that same feeling of anxiety you'd get when your mother would bang on your locked door in a fit of anger. You nearly ran him over when you burst out of the bathroom, making him drop his change of clothes and call out a disgruntled complaint. 

“Who the hell is this?” 

Daryl looked up from his bag to see you looking down at him, a teasing grin on your fresh face. The image of you being all cleaned up had him momentarily stunned. It had been a while since either of you had seen each other clean like that. 

“Daryl? No way, where's your grease?” You toyed with his damp hair before sitting next to him on the floor near the fireplace, where he'd decided to sleep for the night. 

“Nah, I don't know you. Ya don't smell like bloody rabbits.” He retorted, leaning in to dramatically sniff at you. “The hell is that? Shampoo?”

“Uh, it's shampoo, conditioner, body wash, lotion, and toothpaste.” You replied, giving an exaggerated smile to show your clean teeth. 

You shared a few chuckles and jokes as the rest of the group cleaned up and prepared for bed. Even though you couldn't stand the place or the new people in it, the prospect of having your own room with an actual bed had you buzzing with excitement. 

Sleeping next to Daryl wasn't anything out of the ordinary for you. It was an arrangement that happened more nights than not. But sleeping next to Daryl in a safe house, wrapped in clean clothes, soft blankets, and not even the slightest whiff of the outdoors? It was overwhelming. 

You turned on your side to face him, watching as he stared up at the ceiling, the dark room filled with the familiar ambiance of gentle snoring and breathing. Daryl always slept after everyone else, and that night was no exception. 

Despite your instincts telling you not to, you wiggled on the blanket to move closer to him, nuzzling your face in his nearly dry hair, closing your eyes as you inhaled his clean scent. 

He stiffened at first, an automatic reaction which soon faded and he relaxed, tilting his head until his cheek rested against your forehead. He could barely feel the warm tickle of your breath under his jaw, the feeling soliciting a subliminal relaxation. His eyes closed then, and he listened to the barely audible whistle of your nose. He listened as the whistle got softer, slower, and nearly disappeared altogether as you fell asleep. 

Daryl made sure to untangle himself from you the next morning, before anyone else had the chance to wake up and witness your private bond. No one deserved to see that part of him or you, it was intended for the two of you alone, something deeper and more personal than anyone would understand. 

Adjusting to being around people was a challenge that went all the way back to school. Even in Atlanta you struggled with it, going from being a hermit with your sick mother to an adult in a large group of people, it felt like your first day of school all over again. 

That was all nothing compared to being in Alexandria. Not only were you surrounded by people that annoyed you, but another larger group of people you knew absolutely nothing about. 

They bestowed heavy responsibilities on you as well. It wasn't just scraping by washing clothes and hunting, it was work. Hard work. Wall building, gardening, work inside Alexandria, work outside their walls, near constant supply runs, and cooking. 

Parties. Pasta for dinner. A seemingly limitless flow of sparkling amber champagne. Some kid was walking their fucking pet dog on the sidewalk. 

It felt insulting. Their first impression on you firmly implemented your personal views towards them. Spoiled, weak, wearing faces of false persona, wives chittering like hens with warm knowing smirks. Husbands and men who always smiled like the sun, going out of their way to do things they considered nice for you, then putting on a somber and humble face if anyone had praised their hard work, dedication, and sacrifices. Sacrifices that basically ensued going to the grocery store. 

You hated it. You hated them, you hated their kids, you hated their houses that looked like mansions to you, and you hated the way Rick's group treated it like they'd walked through the bright pearly gates and not the glorified pretentious prison that it was. 

To your relief Daryl didn't quite like it either. 

“They invited us to what?” You didn't believe him when he said it to you as he stared around your new room. 

“Said it was a welcoming party.” He grunted, fingers picking at the edges of a tacky poster of a puppy on the wall. 

“A party? What do you mean a party?” 

“Dunno.” He sighed, throwing his hands up in muted exasperation. “S’jus what she said.” She being Deanna, the same woman who took away your guns, which yours had grown to be quite the impressive collection. But you being your hardened and sneaky self, you'd managed to smuggle two of your handguns into your room. Daryl got to keep his crossbow, of course, and you your own recurve bow, it was the bare minimum aside from your knives, which the others were allowed to keep as well. Sadly, you'd end up breaking that bow a few days later by slinging it at Pete's head.

“And everyone's going?” You pressed on from your seat on the bedroom dresser. 

“Dunno. Goddamn, told you what she told me, you know s’much as I do.” 

You went to the party. Of fucking course you would, they had full on meals with all the food groups, they had alcohol, they had little appetizers and finger foods you'd only ever seen on tv and in magazines, you'd be an idiot not to. The only con was the house was stuffed with people. You could barely make it two steps without bumping into a new face. 

You didn't stay long at all, leaving the second your stomach felt full, and you had a decent buzz going on. You snuck out the back door and snagged the half empty bottle of champagne on your way out. 

“Ya went?” Daryl was surprised to see you walking down the sidewalk in new clothes. The black button up hung a little loose on you, the sleeves bunched up around your elbows, the hem falling all the way past your ass. 

“I may not like those people, but they make some damn good casserole.” You snickered, popping out the metal reusable cork and taking a deep drink. 

Daryl grabbed the bottle from your outstretched hand and downed nearly the whole damn thing in three gulps. 

“Yeah yeah. Go on, help yourself.” 

He gave a weak grin at your playful scoff before handing the bottle back to you. 

“You remember what I said back in Atlanta.”

You looked to your side at Daryl as the two of you walked down the dimly lit path back to your new residence. “Gotta be more specific.” 

“Bout takin’ their shit an’ hauling ass outta there.” 

“Yeah. One of my biggest regrets is talking you out of it.” You sighed, your tone no longer playful and lighthearted. “We could be all the way across the country by now. Would still have Merle bitching out ears off and ranting about some racist conspiracy theory.” 

Daryl suddenly chuckled. “You ‘member that time he was tryin’ to come up with slurs for walkers?” His amused grin spread further when you erupted into laughter at the memory. “What was it he called ‘em? Rotters? Pus-suckers?”

“Yeah, those were some of the tamer ones.” At the time you'd been annoyed by Merle's constant need to remind you that the three of you were better and more superior than anything and anyone around you, but all this time without him and his humorous outlook on life, you missed it. You even missed when he'd belittle you, at the end of the day he still was sexist, despite the obvious care he held for you. 

“Why'd you ask though?” 

“Dunno.”

“Daryl.”

“Everyone's safe now, ain't gotta worry about ‘em anymore.” 

You kept quiet as he fought for the words to convey his thoughts. It was obvious he felt like the odd man out again, it was impossible not to, in a place as nice as Alexandria. The rest of the group had effortlessly slipped into their places in the new environment, if you were an onlooker, it would look as if time had frozen in place for the small neighborhood and its citizens. 

But Daryl, and you, it wasn't easy like that. You never had a normal life like this, so you had no default state to regress to. Daryl had only changed a little since the start, and you hadn't changed much at all. Your skin felt like it was burning with electricity at the insinuation in his words. 

“I'll go wherever you go, you know that.” You nodded firmly. “Just say the word.”

He ended up going to Carol with his vague plan, and then Rick. You don't know what they said to him, but the next morning he told you he wanted to give it a few days before he made his decision.

You should've just made the decision for him. You should have grabbed your stuff, packed your bags, and stole one of their cars and left. Because a few days turned into a hell of a lot longer. 

It wasn't all bad, the two of you grew even closer due to his feelings of being an outcast once again surfacing. It was the same for you, which caused you to cling onto him tighter than before. You slept on the same ratty mattress in your room, sometimes cuddling, but most of the time on separate ends.

You watched more people die around you, which was something you'd become bitterly accustomed to. Aiden, one of Deanna’s sons, and Noah, who you'd never spoken to before. Rick made some trouble for himself getting wrapped up in the wife of the town surgeon, and all hell broke loose after that. Pete lost his shit and accidentally killed Deanna's husband, and Rick killed Pete. As if there hadn't been enough blood shed, a hoard of walkers became an issue just as things started to calm down. 

You didn't like the role that'd been assigned to you. You were being seen and tasked as a protector, sent out by Rick with Abraham and a handful of others to build strategic walls for his master plan of relocating the hoard. 

Another thing you didn't like was the way people's views towards you changed. People who once never even spared you a second thought were speaking to you, making an effort to get to know you, and it was just as unsettling as that time Rick invited you over for dinner. 

“Too pretty to be so sad all the time.” Abraham had said once as you dug a hole for the wooden pillar. 

“I'm not sad.” You muttered, stepping back as three men lifted the wood into the hole. You poured in the instant concrete and took your gloves off to get a drink of water.

“So you just always have that sour look on your face then, huh?” 

“Only when I'm around people I don't know.” Or like, you thought to yourself. 

“I've known you for how long now? Course you know me. And Sasha, and Rosita, and-”

“You're people I'm stuck with. Doesn't mean I know you.” 

“Tsh.” He snorted, folding his massive arms across his equally massive chest. “So you're just a bitch then?” 

“Yeah.” 

One would think that conversation would've been enough to get the point across. No, sadly, it only made things worse. Rick ended up giving you jobs with more people, and you quickly caught onto the convenient way Daryl was almost never in those assigned groups. 

Rick was in charge, that was undebatable, but he wasn't in charge of your free will. You did your work as he asked, most of the time faster than expected, and spent every second of your free time with Daryl, even if it meant pulling four different jobs a day. 

It worked like that for a while, and eventually you did begin to change. Not you exactly, moreso your attitude had changed. You became less closed off, no longer baring teeth and claws as a constant warning. You actually enjoyed spending time with Abraham, as he was one of the only people that called you out for being shitty, he wasn't scared of your mean mug or the harsh bite of your words. It wasn't just Abraham you started to like. Maggie, Carol, Rosita, Michonne, and sometimes Tara, the small group shifted from strangers to acquaintances, some would call you their friend. They'd eventually worn down your hard exterior and you experimented a little with conversation and generosity. Carol was the exception, it was you who had to pursue her. Trying to become genuine friends with her was hard, it made you realize how hard everyone else had been trying with you. 

You even started decorating your room a bit. Nothing fancy, just a few homemade shelves and displays for your numerous weapons. You made a special one above your futon, the only object it held was the small gold tinted shell of a used bullet. 

All good things must come to an end. 

You sat alone in your shared room for the third night in a row, silent on your lumpy mattress, your eyes burning in effort to hold back tears. 

He hadn't even told you he was leaving. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @jinx-nanami

[minaturefics]

Of the Earth

Request: Could I request a fic faramir x reader where she has stumbled into ithilien and he comes across her? he's all angry at first because it's dangerous, but it ends well :) (they don't have to know each other either)

A/N: This one has more ranger!Faramir which was fun to write. Boromir lives because I say so lol Hope you all enjoy it!

Faramir x Reader

Fem reader

No content warnings

4.1k words

---

You inhaled the cool evening air, breathing in the scent of fir and cedar. You followed the worn path, now dotted with primroses and overgrown with fragrant herbs of thyme and sage, and swept your eyes over the trees and shrubs. Where was the entrance to Henneth Annûn? Idhron mentioned that it would be along the side of the mountain. The dying light of the sun filtered in through the trees and the forest was bathed in a dreamy glow. Ithilien truly was such a beautiful land, even now, still sullied with the lingering darkness of the orcs.

Something rustled behind you and your hand flew to your short sword. Your eyes darted around, breath hitched in your chest. Were there orcs about this evening? Most of them had been driven away, especially after the destruction of the Ring, but there was always the risk of stray orcs around. The forest settled, still and silent, but you kept your steps light and quiet as you continued on. 

You neared the rock face and raised a hand to the rough surface. Idhron had said that the entrance looked little more than a crack, just wide enough for a man, and that what differentiated it from other cracks was the feeling of the stone. He had said that it would be cool and damp, and that there would be a change in the air, a subtle rushing in of the breeze. You continued past a few fissures until you felt exactly what he described. With a final glance behind you, you slipped into the stone. 

You felt along the wall of the crevice, eyes adjusting to the dim, careful not to stumble on any errant stones or steps. There was a faint glow on the wall ahead, orange and warm, and you frowned. Torches? A fire? But Henneth Annûn was supposed to be empty. You drew your sword and rounded the corner. 

“Do not move if you value your life,” a voice said, low and stern. 

You froze and blinked at the hooded figures in front of you. Their weapons were drawn. Your eyes darted to the white tree on the leather breastplates of the men and you relaxed a fraction. 

“Peace,” you said, lowering your sword. “I come from Minas Tirith.”

“We were not informed of any other parties dispatched to Ithilien. And you do not look like a messenger.”

“I come on behalf of Ioreth, of the Houses of Healing.” You sheathed your sword and offered the pommel, where the crest of the white tree was embossed, to the man. “Would the Enemy carry a sword from The White City? I think not.”

The figure threw his hood back and you flinched. Captain Faramir. 

Prince Faramir. 

“My lord,” you murmured, stunned, and he gestured for his company to lower their weapons.

His grey eyes were cold and stern, his lips set in a displeased line. “What are you doing here? Do you not know that there are still dangers lurking in Ithilien?”

“I am well aware. But I have come on a matter of urgency — I am in search of a plant, a herb, that they require. I have been searching for the last two days.”

“And you would dare venture out alone?” He frowned. “Why were we not informed of such an errand? My men and I could have found the plant for you.”

“By the time Ioreth realised what plant she required, your men had already departed. And it is not as though we, in the Houses of Healing, are told where the rangers go.” 

His brow cleared a little but his jaw was still tense. 

“As for leaving the city alone — there were no others we could spare to come with me. Our little band of foragers are not as well staffed as the rangers and guards,” you muttered, a hint of bitterness lacing your tone. “I was not going to let some woman die simply because I had no companion on this quest.”

“I cannot decide if you are brave or foolish,” he muttered and nodded to dismiss his men. They took one final glance at you then wandered off further into the cavern. “How did you find this place?”

“Idhron told me. It was getting dark, so I thought such a shelter would be a good place to camp for the night.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Come, my men were just about to sit and eat before we were alerted to your intrusion. Join us, and we can talk.”

He led you to one of the caverns where a few worn tables and chairs were scattered about. Some of the Rangers ate at the tables, but most were seated on some woven mats on the floor. Braisers lit and warmed the space and the distant hush of the waterfall echoed above the chatter. Faramir handed you a bowl of stew and a piece of bread and sat with you at one of the empty tables. 

“How do you know Idhron?” he asked.

“He is a friend of the family. They did not wish for me to join the rangers as they thought it would be too dangerous but I did not wish to be designated to a life of weaving or scribing. He had suggested foraging for the Houses of Healing as a sort of compromise. It allows me to be in the wilds, but the work is far less perilous than that of a ranger.”

He hummed. “He is a wise man.”

You nodded and went back to your stew. How strange it was to be seated at a table with Faramir. Prince Faramir, you reminded yourself. You tucked your dirt stained fingernails under your palm and tried not to slurp while you ate. You glanced up, eyes trailing over his wavy hair, to his proud brow, down to his lips and short beard. He truly was handsome up close; it was no wonder the Houses of Healing were all a flutter with gossip after he had stayed there. His eyes met yours and you nearly choked on your stew. 

You cleared your throat and let your eyes fall to the table.

“Tell me about this plant,” he said.

“I do not know what its proper name is but we call it Dawn Root. It is leafy and unassuming and the only way to find it is to listen for it.”

“To listen?”

“Yes, it… it chimes. It is easiest heard at dawn, hence its name.”

“How curious. I have never heard of such a thing,” he murmured. “Will you be searching for it tomorrow morning?” 

You nodded, and he said, “I would like to accompany you, if you are amenable to that.” His gaze had softened, the firelight melting the steel in them. “It is not because I think you are incapable. I simply wish to see this strange plant.”

Your stomach lurched and you gave him a hesitant nod.

”I must confess to some curiosity about how a practised forager goes about it. We are taught some basics, enough to keep us alive, but I’m certain there’s still much more to learn. Even after the sun has risen, perhaps we can still forage, if you do not mind sparing some time to show me.”

Your eyes  dropped to your half-eaten stew. Faramir wished to learn from you? “What would you wish to know about?”

“Mushrooms,” he murmured, a slight smile in his voice. “We’re taught mostly to avoid them unless we are absolutely certain they are not poisonous, and even then, most of us are wary. I am fond of morels, but I know they have a deadly counterpart.”

You shrugged. “They are easy to differentiate. In fact, it is the season for them now. We might find some while we are looking tomorrow.”

“I suppose, then, I can trust you to pick some?”

Your eyes rose to meet his. They were unguarded now, so different to how he looked before, and a gentle smile was on his face. He looked like the sort of man you would cross paths with in the market or in the library. Just an ordinary man, eager for mushrooms. 

 “And then you’ll cook them for us?” You asked with a chuckle and he nodded. “I did not think there would come a day where I would see Prince Faramir standing over a campfire, cooking.”

The moment the words left your mouth you snapped your jaw shut. What were you thinking? Teasing him like that? 

You opened your mouth to apologise but his eyes crinkled with amusement and a breathy laugh escaped from him. “Do you know how to cook?”

“Only well enough to survive.”

He grinned. “Ah, then perhaps this is something I can teach you in return.”

-

Faramir held the torch aloft and swept his eyes across the trees and shrubs. It was so dim, the sun still yet to break the horizon, that he could scarcely see beyond the torch’s little sphere of light. Every morning for the past week, he had set out with you to search for this plant. You walked beside him, steps so silent he wondered who had taught you to stalk and creep through the land, your eyes fixed on the darkness, focused yet distant. 

The light illuminated your profile, highlighting it in a soft orange. He followed the line of light down from the line of your forehead to the swell of your lips. You had shown up at the cave with your hair mussed and your skin shiny with sweat, and yet, in that moment, you seemed to him more beautiful than the courtly ladies of Gondor. 

Ever since his appointment as Prince of Ithilien, it seemed like there was no end to the subtle romantic overtures from the nobles.

There was no need for an advantageous match, both Boromir and Aragorn assured him, but even if there was, he could not betray himself to pick someone based on some arbitrary checklist of what would make a good partner. It wrenched his heart each time he spoke with the ladies — they were lovely and polite, intelligent and funny, but they were all lacking a certain something he could not name.

It seemed, to him, with each passing day, that he was destined to be a bachelor like his brother, though unlike Boromir, it would not be of his choosing.

When his brother had offered to temporarily take over the post of Steward while Faramir cleared and reestablished Ithilien, Faramir had marshalled his men and left the city within the week. It would be good to get away from the empty rooms and halls, away from the hollowness that echoed the loneliness within him.

Some part of him missed the warm and dry library, the scent of books and paper, but there was peace to be had in the wild too, in the quiet of the caverns, the stillness of the morning. And even now, in the silent understanding between two people united in the quest for something.

He squinted out into the dark and sighed. “We can hardly see in such low light. Perhaps we set out too early this morning.”

“You are not using the right sense, my lord,” you said, a sly smile growing on your face. “As I said, it chimes.”

“I cannot hear anything.”

“Perhaps if your steps were not so loud…” You flashed him a smile and he chuckled, a strange warm feeling growing in his chest. How long had it been since someone, anyone, aside from his company and his brother, dared to joke with him?

“My steps are hardly making a sound. You move like a cat; it is unnatural.”

“What is unnatural is seeing you out here.” You laughed. “I thought that —” Your smile vanished and you glanced away. “Forgive me, sometimes I forget myself, especially away from the city. I did not mean any offence.”

“I am not offended.” He smiled. “I would like to hear what you were about to say.”

You eyed him, hesitant, then looked away and spoke your words to the woods instead. “I… I thought that you would prefer to be in the city. I am well aware that you were, are, a good captain and ranger, but your love of literature and lore is just as fabled. I did not think you would return to your former roles now that we are in a time of peace.”

“Such a sentiment certainly isn’t unfounded,” he mused. “But sometimes even I, too, find the city a little stifling. It is nice to simply exist as oneself, unobserved by people.”

“I shall do my best to keep my eyes to myself then.” You laughed and he relished the sound before you pursed your lips and forced yourself to stop. “Um, what about your men?”

“We have travelled a long and weary road together. We see each other as friends.”

You opened your mouth then closed it with a snap, forging forward, and his chest tightened. He had thought that all the nightly conversations at dinner would have put you at ease with him but alas. He wished you would speak freely, like you did late at night when your tongue was loosened with fatigue. 

He adored the way you would speak of your little adventures out of the city, eyes aglow with a fond smile on your lips. How you had one too many mishaps with a collapsing tent, how one of your companions taught you the shapes of the stars, how there was no greater thrill than discovering some strange new herb.

And just last night, you had leaned close to him while he fried the morels. The cavern was loud with chatter, but he had deliberately kept his voice low and gestured for you to move closer when you said you could not hear him. He could smell you, musk and moss and lemon from the homemade bar of soap you said you brought. You were so real, so alive. And when an errant strand of hair fell over your forehead, his fingers twitched to tuck it behind your ear.

If he were to do such a thing, would you welcome it? Or would the height of his station prevent you from entertaining such a notion? It vexed him, the way you would speak to him as an equal, a friend, then suddenly pull back, withdrawing to formalities. Perhaps he should make it clear to you that there was no need for such things.

“I was thinking…” he began.

“Hush,” you whispered. “I hear it.”

He stilled, straining his ears, and there, just faintly to his right, was a clear tinkle. You followed the sound, pausing every other step to listen, and he trailed after you. The first of the sun’s rays spilled through the trees, casting the forest, and you, in a hazy glow. His eyes lingered on the lines and curves of your body, marvelling at your grace.

You let out a triumphant cry and knelt a few paces in front of him. Just as you had said, the plant, leafy and unassuming, was chiming softly. You gently dug it out and cradled it in the palm of your hand. Its roots were a deep crimson and remained undamaged. You grinned at him, so open and so genuine that his heart ached with some unknown feeling.

“I must head for the city at once,” you said, tucking the plant into a canvas bag.

“You do not have a horse, correct?”

“A horse? Valar, where would I get a horse? They have been in short supply since the war, and Rohan are yet to send more over. And should the city even have some, the guards and messengers would take precedence over the foragers.”

“I did not realise your company was so ill-equipped.” A strange discomfort settled in his stomach. “It is no matter. We have some horses, please, take one.”

You blinked at him, astonished. “Where do you keep them?”

“There is another tunnel in the rock face not far from the cave entrance. It is large enough for horses to pass through and widens onto a grassy plateau. Come, let us make haste.”

You nodded and the both of you hurried back to Henneth Annûn. While you gathered your things, he untied and retrieved a horse for you. When would he see you again? He supposed he could always visit the Houses of Healing and ask for you, but perhaps you would not appreciate that. You still seemed a little ill at ease with him and, despite his own stirring feelings towards you, he would not wish to discomfit you further. With a sigh, he led the horse out to meet you. 

Saddled and ready, you gave him a lingering look, then turned and galloped away. 

-

You handed Ioreth the most recent bunch of gathered herbs, trying to ignore the curious glances the other women gave you. Ever since you arrived in the city three weeks ago on Faramir’s horse, the Citadel and the Houses of Healing have been abuzz with rumours. It did not help that a couple of days after your return, a messenger had arrived at the Houses of Healing with a letter for you with the bright blue wax seal of Ithilien stark on the envelope. Your foraging company knew better than to ask, but it seemed everyone else was not above gossip. 

Iotheth gave the whispering women a stern look, thanked you for your herbs, and handed you another list of plants required. 

You grumbled to yourself. Faramir’s horse! You did not know it was his, but perhaps you should have noticed the round medallion on the bridle which bore the newly created crest of Ithilien. Still, in the quiet of the night, you wondered why he had chosen that particular horse for you. Perhaps it was the most agreeable one they had, or maybe it was the most well rested, or he thought that sending you on his horse would be the most efficient way for you to reach the city without anyone stopping you.

Or perhaps… perhaps he simply wished to send you on his horse.

No, no. What a foolish thought. Evenings spent in conversation and mornings spent foraging and letters sent with the supply carts and messengers was hardly a basis for anything more than friendship.

Still, the letters had been unusually intimate. There were the usual inquiries about the patients and medicinal herbs, how the outpost in Henneth Annûn was coming along, whether the resource changes he and Boromir agreed on were helping your company of foragers, but there were also little personal comments and questions. 

Other women here in the city might beg to differ, but I think the Rangers’ uniform is far more attractive than the guards’.

You’ve never used a bow? They can be quite handy, especially when hunting dinner. Perhaps when I am back in the city I can teach you. 

Thank you for the pressed primrose you sent, they remind me quite fondly of my time in Ithilien.  Do you have a favourite flower? 

We’ve had another delicious morel dinner. I must confess that the sight of them makes me think of you.

It would amuse you to know I overheard some ladies mourning your absence from the city. Though, I begrudgingly admit that I share their sentiment. 

The lily perfume Ioreth made for you sounds lovely. I imagine it must smell wonderful on you. 

No, I do not write to you out of a sense of obligation. I look forward to your letters; you bring me more joy than you can ever know.

And each time he had signed his letter as ‘Faramir’. Not ‘Captain Faramir’ or ‘Prince Faramir’, but just… Faramir. 

Your heart fluttered when you thought of that, but you squashed the feeling as soon as it arose. He was a prince, for Valar’s sake. And you were just… just…

Ioreth’s voice broke through your thoughts. “Girl,” she said, amusement in her eyes. “You have a visitor.”

“Who in Arda would come see me here?” you groused, pocketing her plant list. “All my friends are out —”

Faramir stood in the archway, his cheeks red from the wind and his cape hem muddied.

“Not all your friends, I hope,” he said, an unsure smile on his face.

“Fara — My lord,” you muttered, bowing your head a little. 

His brows drew together. “Please, I am certain we are past such formalities.” You cast a nervous glance around the room and his frown deepened. “Shall we speak elsewhere? There is something I wish to discuss with you.”

You nodded and led him to one of the secluded gardens outside. “I did not know you were returning to the city,” you said. 

“I had thought of sending a letter but I thought what I wished to discuss would be best done in person.”

“That sounds serious,” you murmured. “Not ill tidings, I hope?”

You paused by one of the shrubs, rubbing a waxy leaf between your fingers, avoiding his eyes. What could be so important he would make the trip back from Ithilien? 

“I hope you will forgive me for being selfish,” he said. “Coming to the Houses of Healing and seeking you out. I am not oblivious to the… the rumours circulating around the city.”

You took a hesitant look at him. “So why did you come?”

“I wished to see your face when you give your reply.” He swallowed and clasped his fidgety hands behind his back. “I have read your letters again and again, trying to find some sort of hint or clue in them, and in your last letter… You said I brought you joy.”

You stared at him, the sound of your heart loud in your ears. The words had slipped from you before you realised, but you had left them in, a cautious declaration of how you felt, hoping that he would take it as a friend being overly sentimental.

“I must know,” he said. “Is there… Is there a chance you might return my feelings?”

“Your feelings?” you stuttered, scarcely believing what he was saying. 

“Yes,” he said slowly. “You are a most singular person to me and there has been no other who has captured my heart so.” 

He paused and looked at you, hopeful and apprehensive all at once. You gaped at him. 

Singular… Captured his heart…  All this time, he felt the same?

“Ah,” he said, voice flat, eyes shuttering. “I suppose your silence is enough of an answer.” He took a step back. “Forgive me, I —”

“Wait, no, please.”

He stilled but his face remained impassive.

“I am simply in disbelief,” you said in a rush. “I did not think… I dare not hope…” A strangled laugh burst from you. “Of course, of course I share your feelings.”

A smile spread slowly across his face and he offered his hand, palm up, to you. You reached out, but the sight of your hands, rough and dirt stained, stopped you.

“Why do you hesitate?” he murmured.

“Faramir, you are a prince. And I am not of equal standing or birth.”

“I do not care for such things. You are kind and brave, and smart and good-humoured.” He offered his hand once more and you tentatively curled your fingers around his. “And you are beautiful.”

He tugged on your hand and you stepped closer. Slowly, slowly, he brought his forehead to yours. You sucked in a deep breath, inhaling his scent of leather and musk, relishing his nearness after so many weeks. He nudged your temple with his nose and pressed a kiss to your temple.

He hummed, low and satisfied. “The perfume really does smell wonderful on you. I suppose I must smell a bit ripe in comparison. Though, in my defence, it was a swift ride, and I was far too eager to see you.”

“I think you would benefit from a bath, yes.” You chuckled and drew back. “But Faramir, what about the court?”

“Tongues will always wag, my love,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “But we shall face them together. And besides, you have already shown your service and care for the people. What more could Gondor ask of you as my partner?”

“I suppose I cannot argue with that.” You grinned. “But maybe, we could proceed slowly? I do not think I would fare well if I were immediately tossed into society.”

“Of course. And it shall give me time to court you, properly. I will be returning from Ithilien soon, and then I assure you, there will be flowers and walks and picnics.”

“And mushrooms?”

He laughed and kissed your cheek. “Yes, and mushrooms.”

---

A/N: Lowkey feel like the pacing was a bit off. I originally planned for it to be longer, but my brain decided to be shitty lmao so I had to pare it back. I hope the flow is still okay.

Nirnroot was inspiration for the Dawn Root, lmk if anyone picked up on that lol

[themissingnumbers]

[ @pkmn-monochrome - interaction thing i can't send as an ask bc long and images]

The dark of the Pokemon tower is never something that has bothered Red. Never something that would, certainly not after seeing much worse and being much older.

At this point, really, it's a kind of eeriness he'd come to miss. It reminds him of simpler times- days when a young boy only had to fear things like ghost stories, and shadows that lurked in the dark.

He knows very well that this place is not the Pokemon Tower he knew, of course. He's not stupid. This place was only built in its image, the miserable ending of a game dyed in grey and built out of spite.

He runs a hand along the wall of the staircase he descends, feeling the cold stone, yet also the intangible data, dull static and code under the fingertips. Watches in quiet fascination as the textures distort and corrupt under deliberate contact, the broken foundations of Generation 1 reacting to him, (same as always,) but a touch more stable from the fusion of the bastard remakes keeping it grounded.

Any damage caused is meaningless, the existence of it debatable as a whole, as he passes through a loading zone. Half of him watches everything fade to black, the other half just continues down the steps that are as tangible as anything else here is to someone within the game. Everything is right- just as it should be.

Either way, it's not like it's his game to break. That would be plain rude, especially with the risk of killing someone!

Intrigue in this world, curious as it may be, isn't why he's here.

Nah. He's more interested in something else.

Or, someone, to be more precise.

Having finally found who he'd looking for, Red steps off the stairs and into another layer of this endless graveyard, whistling as he finally lays eyes on a certain monochromatic individual.

"Y'know..." he chides from across the room, "A graveyard's a pretty cliche place to spend eternity, don't you think?"

He snorts at his own remark. "Course, I guess it's not like you had a choice. The sadsack that made this game could've picked something a little more outside the box, is all I'm saying. Do you think they'd bury bodies in the Viridian Forest, maybe? Or swimming offa Route 20, try a little watery grave... Oh, Champion's Road could be pretty morbid!"

He sighs and folds his arms, shaking his head at himself.

"... Nah, I'm joking. I can see the vision. I could give less of a shit about this place, anyways..."

His eyes gleam, and a menacing smile spreads across his face.

"I'm more interested in you. A glorified reskin of Pokemon Tower ain't shit compared to you. A little bug told me about some sentient Red-Leaf kinda amalgamation with the memories of a real person, and I just had to look into it and come to see for myself. Lo and behold..."

He spreads his arms out in some kind of almost-mocking grand gesture.

"Here you are! Cody, right? In the flesh, or... I suppose your problem is the lack thereof, heh."

He begins to approach, moving slowly and never once looking away. He stalks forward, every step careful and deliberate, teeth bared in a grin that holds no happiness but oozes with amusement.

"I've got so many questions, I don't even know where to begin. You're really something special... One of a kind, fully aware of everything. Knowing what life both here, and out there, is really like. I've seen players that would kill to even get a chance to stand where we do, but... You want out more than anything."

Scratching his chin, the man walks around them at a slight distance. Red gets the thought that Cody wouldn't want something like him anywhere near them. At least he can respect that.

"Suppose the courteous thing would be to ask a question- that's the tradition around these parts, right? Constantly interrogating you so you don't have to sit here, alone with your..."

His eyes flicker to the two GHOSTs at Cody's side.

"... Thoughts. And the like."

He hops onto a grave nearby, sitting with his ankles crossed. Respect towards the dead be damned, every tomb in places like this were about as sacred as Halloween decorations.

"Here's what I'd like to know, Cody."

His smile widens further- for a brief moment, the glitches on his body seem to spread to the air around him, cutting through the gray with burning streaks of red, white, and yellow.

"You have your hacker's memories. Some of them. ANY of them. It's enough. You'd know what it was like to be them. You know what it was like to be human. You know both worlds."

"What is it like? To be real? To be something more than code. How different is it from this?"

"What was it like to be HUMAN?"

He jabs a finger forward, pointing at them as the static that flared up around him quickly subsides, clearing the air back into the typical oppressive atmosphere of the endless graveyard.

"I want to hear it from you," he finishes cooly, "someone who has been on both sides of the screen. You could tell me better than anyone."

[fantasyinallforms]

Alright, we've got to talk about this scene because for a scene as short as this one, it packs a huge punch! They manage to cram a frankly impressive amount of information into less than a min. This will be a long one so strap in and let's start at the very beginning, right after Ori asks, "What about Bilbo?"

Up until this point, we have only ever heard Thorin's voice crack once. Just once, and that was when he thought that he missed his chance to enter Erebor. A huge defining moment in this quest. The second time was right here when he said, "Give him more time." Please note how Thorin is standing. Hands pressed together and head bent, his back completely turned to the mountain. He doesn't even turn his head until Balin utters the word "Killed".

Now Here Thorin says, "You're afraid." He does it in an almost accusatory way and directly after Balin finishes his above sentence. I truly think this is because he has been sitting here dreading Bilbo's fate for hours. This, combined with the dragon sickness that's starting to take hold, wreaking havoc on his psyche. In this moment, the lines between Bilbo and the treasure are getting blurred. His face is a picture of discontent and fear. So in usual Thorin fashion, he lashes out. He voices his fear to Balin as an accusation. I don't think anything articulates how bizarre Thorin is acting more than the below gif.

Balin fully leans away from him in shock, eyes searching this face before going on to say that he fears for him with tears in his eyes. Thorin is at war with himself. He's at war with the growing greed pumping through his veins, and how much he cares and worries for Bilbo. His love for Bilbo is winning because he is desperately forcing himself to detach Bilbo from himself. They go out of their way in the next 13 seconds to tell us that multiple separate times! I will break those down for you now.

Let's start here with this line and how it's said. Time and time again, clearly on and off screen, Thorin has shown his regard for Bilbo. The handful of time we see is not enough to invoke this strong of a reaction from Balin, a Dwarf who has known him his entire life. Would not hesitate is a powerful choice of words. Think of the things you would not hesitate to save from death or destruction. They're all things you love, things you can't live without. That is what Balin is implying Bilbo is to Thorin. Balin knows the depth of Thorin's affection.

And here we have the response and the third time we ever hear Thorin's voice crack and stutter. He chooses to call him "burglar" and forces the words out through his teeth like a curse, like he's fighting something. The statement in and of itself is an obvious lie. He has risked his life for Bilbo multiple times. The trolls, the cliffside, even when Bard threatened them, and he practically glued himself to Bilbo's side.

That brings us to this moment. This is right after the dragon's roar. The look of pure panic at Balin's words. He looks at the door, and the battle between Bilbo and the Arkenstone flips to Bilbo like a light switch. In this moment, Bilbo is more important. He rushes through the door into fiery danger, and the relief in his voice when he sees Bilbo, is clearly audible. Now we all know in the next scene, he holds Bilbo at sword point, and it flickers again. After that, however, Thorin's sickness seems to reconcile Bilbo and the treasure as one thing. Why else would he give him the second most valuable thing in the hoard? Treasure can't steal treasure.

I do have a theory that if Bilbo had revealed the stone, Thorin would not have been upset. It was only when he gave it away that it was deemed betrayal in the highest order.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: Jysh'parun, Outergod of Unwelcoming Earth

As distant and ancient as a mountain, as scornful as an axebitten tree

Many philosophies debate and negotiate the relation of mortals to their environment. Some see nature as a thing to be tamed in the name of survival, domesticated, exploited. Others proffer a more symbiotic path, a holistic system to be protected and stewarded.

Beyond these there are the ravings of those claimed by Jysh'parun, who claim that mortals have no right to exist at all, and survive merely by the beneficence of the trees and stones. While all but the most foolish agree that heed must be paid to nature, none but those under the unwelcoming earths dominion would think that there is some geological-feudal hierarchy to which we must all submit.

This then is the paradox of the Unbowing Mountain: a god that claims the worship of things that do not traditionally think, but views nature through a distinctly mortal lens of domination and hierarchy. It's an absurdity bordering on being a joke, atleast until Jysh'parun's influence washes over the land and the forest marches off to war while the rivers start demanding tribute.

Adventure Hooks:

Having come into possession of a disused tract of land, a young farming couple were picking the stones from their new field in preparation for planting when they came across the petrified remains of some indescribable horror. Resembling nothing so much as a horse sized mandrake-root with teeth, they've reached out to neighbours, the sheriff, even the local wizard looking for advice about what to do... only to wake up one morning and find the thing gone. Theft or reanimation are both equally alarming possibilities, and the whole region has been on edge since.

Having been thought dead for years after being lost in a winter storm, a dwarven cartographer descends from the mountains claiming to be their mouthpiece and demanding sacrifices in their name. Her words at first go unheeded, at least until the glacial rivers begin to run with noxious acid, transforming back only when something living is thrown in. Farms and villages are drying out and grisly offerings of livestock now fail to meet her standards she claims the mountains will only be satisfied when the people of the realm throw their rulers in and swear fealty to the peaks on high.

The king's palace is in chaos after a coup took place in the royal gardens, specifically when the great tree that shaded his majesty's favourite thinking bench stabbed him in the back with one of it's branches and then skampered off to replant itself on the throne with the crown in tow. Before Anyone knew what was happening, greenery had overtaken the palace locking most outside while trapping certain vital hostages inside.

Inspirations: Something that's all too often lost in the "madness and tentacles" misinterpretation of eldritch horror is that much of the genre is spun off from the particular phobias of HP lovecraft. When we use the iconography without understanding the anxieties behind it, we risk creating a shallow B movie version of the horror we want our audience to feel.

To write good horror then, we need to draw off fears we understand, and with Jysh'parun I wanted to tap into climate anxiety in a way I don't think I've seen before. We've all resigned ourselves to the fact that climate change is happening, with the understanding that its being driven by the bullheaded egos and greed of people who are so powerful their perspective on life bears no resemblance to anything we could possibly conceive of. Translate their willingness to let us suffer for the sake of profit into a psudo historical fantasy context and you get the Unwelcoming Earth: widening sinkholes that demand tolls from passersby while an approaching tsunami proclaims the divine right of kings. It's not only absurd it's fundamentally idiotic but that it doesn't mean it won't destroy you and everyone you know.

Worshippers: Delusional druids and geomancers. Goliaths and dwarvenkind who get too into being "children of the mountain". Sentient trees, Living crystals, and other elemental entities who seek to put themselves "above" other forms of life. Corrupted primoridals.

Signs: Aberrations that resemble roots or stone spontaneously emerging from nature, acid flowing from normally clear running springs, statues of lordly alien figures carved from erosion, not tools. Proclimations in an unknowable script engraved deep under the earth or on monumental scale.

Symbols: A glyph resembling a mountain range or branches of a tree in the shape of a crown.

Titles: The Unbowing Mountain, The Insuperable, King of all Corners,

Artsource

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM A COURT OF THORNS AND ROSES *  assorted dialogue from the novel, adjust as necessary

don't feel bad for one moment about doing what brings you joy.

be glad of your human heart.

has anyone ever taken care of you?

i heard you scream.

i figured that would get you to stop crying.

stop? don't pretend you care, human.

what is that bruise?

before you start yelling...

do you lie awake at night to come up with all your witty replies for the following day?

i'm tired and lonely, and you're the only person i can talk to without putting myself at risk.

you can leave if you're just going to insult me.

i would have been gentle with you, though.

pity those who don't feel anything at all.

when i kill, i do it slow.

killing is easier in pants.

i didn't want to consider what the punishment might have been.

we're too powerful, too bored with immortality, to be checked by anything else.

i wanted you everywhere. i was drowning in that need.

i don't particularly enjoy losing, so i took it upon myself to become good at them.

what's it doing?

why are you telling me this?

i don't think it's absurd at all.

remember the last time you ignored my warning?

fear no evil.

would you like me to grovel with gratitude for bringing me here?

i might die of surprise. you made a joke, [name].

your hair is... clean.

when the legends get written, i don't want to be remembered for standing on the sidelines.

look how you're trying not to cry out in terror.

i didn't want you to fight alone. or die alone.

you don't hold on to power by being everyone's friend.

each of us has a beast roaming beneath our skin, roaring to get out.

against slavery, against tyranny, i would gladly go to my death, no matter whose freedom i was defending.

i love you. thorns and all.

for someone with a heart of stone, yours is certainly soft these days.

we need hope, or else we cannot endure.

i threw myself into that fire, threw myself into it, into him, and let myself burn.

you look... better than before.

it's a rare day indeed when someone thanks you for bringing them to their death.

if i offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss too?

you humans are truly grateful creatures, aren't you.

well... goodbye for now.

you didn't ask.

the answer to the riddle is love.

you don't look half as bad now.

everything i love has always had a tendency to be taken from me.

i wouldn't want to die alone.

you didn't need to bargain with me.

how am i to blame?

the tunic isn't as pretty as a dress.

what have you done to me?

do you ever stop being so serious and dull?

make it go away.

i'd prefer not to wear that dress.

do you ever stop being such a prick?

i would have taken a very, very long time.

i'd want someone to hold my hand until the end, and awhile after that.

you didn't tell me this would happen.

your human joy fascinates me - the way you experience things in your life span, so wildly and deeply and all at once is... entrancing.

i'm drawn to it, even though i shouldn't be, even when i try not to be.

there was nothing that could slow me down.

i don't know why i feel so tremendously ashamed of myself for leaving them.

all those years... what i did for them... and they didn't try to stop you from taking me.

you might have gotten away with it.

i came to claim the one i love.

i hadn't thought of it as a weakness until now.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Just imagining, in a world where Wukogn wasn't immediately trapped in the scroll of memory after Azure freed the rest of the Brotherhood, he'd have some things to say. I'm thinking TMKATI au post Wu is Wikong reveal

Wu: MK... who helped you get me out of there?

MK: Oh, this only friend of yours. Called himself the Azure Lion?

Wu, immediately going pale as a ghost: Azure Lion!? MK, please tell me you didn't listen to him or make any deals!

Pigsy: What? Why would it be such a big deal? He's your friend isn't he?

Wu: Azure is anything but a friend! He's the reason I was trapped on the Furnace and under the Mountain to begin with, him and his rebellion!

Tang: Uh, what? But all the stories say it was because of the Havoc you caused!

Wu: The Peach Festival I crashed and ruined was hardly important enough for Heaven to do what they did to me, even with the pills and immortal peaches and wine I had stolen. It was just the catalyst. I was still a cub back then, a stupid, reckless cub who was impressionable enough to trust the wrong person. And then Azure had left me to take the fall for the rebellion he had started! Whatever you do, don't trust Azure!

Tang, taking in the implications: ...I'll kill him.

+Bonus:

Even if Azure did not realise it himself, he had built Wukong up in his mind to be the matyr of the Rebellion. And when Wukong surrendered, rather than die for it, Azure became convinced it was a great betrayal.

There's even hints of Macaque recognising/suspecting this sort of manipulation all the way back during their carefree Brotherhood days. There's a split second in "New Adventures" just after Azure convinces the others to make Wukong the leader of the rebellion, when Macaque is clearly unhappy/thinking about the situation. The only reason he doesn't speak out then and there is because Wukong seemed so sure of it. We see a similar look again just before they head out on their first attack.

And of course there's the memory Tang wanders into in "Court of the Yellow Robed Demon" thats very telling;

Peng: "Wukong is a traitor! He'll end us the first chance he gets!" Yellowtusk: "Yes. The Stone Monkey is unpredictable. Now he's thrown his lot in with the Celestial Host, there's no telling where his true allegiances lie." Peng: "You're characteristically quiet, Macaque!" Macaque: "I just think we should consider all our options before we—" Peng: "What's to consider? Wukong's made his choice. I say we strike him down now while we have the chance!"

The Trio are discussing attacking Wukong for aligning himself with "the Celestial Host" [i.e helping Tripitaka on the Journey so he can do parole] - the memory taking place within Camel Ridge.

Macaque's reaction brings up a super interesting twist to the story told in JTTW. Was the whole plan of disguising himself as Wukong and taking the scriptures not his own? Did the other three or an unknown villain working in the background insist he do so? Did he do it to stall Wukong so that his best friend/mate did not fall into a trap from the rest of the Brotherhood? Did Macaque die trying to give Wukong another option less the Monkey King risk being captured or worse at the hands of his former sworn brothers?

Macaque recognised that *something* was super wrong in how the Brotherhood treated Wukong, especially how Azure directed the situation. But being the same, barely-a-cub, age Wukong was at the time, Macaque wasn't sure/confident enough to speak out about it.

And ofc this whole thing with the Brotherhood would come to a boil in the TMKATI au when Macaque and Wukong are having their Big Fight.

Wukong/Wu had long since recognised that Azure was grooming/manipulating him for the fall, but isn't sure why he tried attacking him afterwards. Macaque is a bit proud in a "I told you so"-way and says that Azure had expected Wukong to *die* in the war as a matyr rather than live as a prisoner.

Wukong: "Why didn't you say anything!?" Macaque: "I was as young and stupid as you were! I only wanted to see you happy!" Wukong: "Oh yeah! Like you did when you left me under that mountain!" Macaque: "You weren't exactly grateful for the company at the time." Wukong: "Uh, need I remind you that before I was imprisoned, I had just spent 49 days being broiled alive!? I wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders. You could have atleast tried to visit me after a few years!" Macaque, uncharastically quiet: "I wanted to..." Wukong: "Huh?" Macaque: (*goes silent and leaves the room*) Wukong: "Wait! Mihou! What do you mean "you wanted" to!?"

note: Tang is accidentally privy to this convo cus he was in the stairwell when it started and got nosey. Then he kinda gets kidnapped by a baby bull demon before he can ramble his discovery to Pigsy and/or Sandy.

Wu gives the clipnote version of events to the gang as he's trying The Big Stupid, and they are horrified. The Monkey King, one of the most infamous tricksters in folkore, was ultimately a groomed teenager at the time of his punishment! And the Macaque was in the same boat, just more cautious...

When things are said and done - Wukong and Macaque go out of their way to tell their kids to always be wary of powerful people who put you on a pedestal. Perhaps not delving into their personal history (they are Normal Demon Parents™ afterall), but using the story of the Monkey King and his Brotherhood as an aesop. The Monkey King had many friends who thought he should lead them, but they shrunk away for whatever reasons when he chose to live and not die in heaven.

MK thinks its the saddest "superhero backstory" ever.

So when S4 of TMKATI comes about and the memory curse gets loose...

Azure Lion: "Ah, Monkie Kid-" MK:

Legit the only reason Azure is able to get away unscathed is because he's the only one who knows how the Scroll works and MK and the rest of the babus want their parents back.

Red Son is on standby (fire ready) outside the Scroll in case Azure tries some sh-t. But of course that doesn't last long.

Tang, Pigsy, and Sandy: (*released from the scroll. Sees Azure Lion*) All three: "YOU."

Then again this is all with the idea that someone else was additionally pulling the strings to ensure the demons downfall...

[reesespeanutbutterfuck]

she says, “babe, you look so cool.”

(ren honjo x reader)

told tales about your confusing relationship with the trapnest's notorious calm demeanoured guitarist, ren honjo.

content warnings: mentions of sex, allusions to sex, black stones vocalist!reader, pregnancy, mention of reader having a panic attack, mention of ren’s substance abuse, smoking, reader with avoidant attachment, ren with abandonment issues, mutual obsessiveness, mutual possessiveness, toxic relationship, miscommunication, takumi is an asshole as always, spoilers for NANA

songs: robbers - the 1975, habits (stay high) - tove lo, bonnie & clyde - DEAN, casual - chappell roan, creep - radiohead, every girl gets their wish - saint avangeline

—

you cannot explain your relationship with ren honjo.

you'd say it's... anything but ordinary.

even before he left for tokyo, he doesn’t toss you away after you have sex. like how he should.

you’d often wake up in the morning wearing one of his button ups or jackets that smell just like his musky cologne and seven stars cigarettes.

he clothed you so you won’t catch a cold.

even then, ren buys you a lot of gifts and lacy lingeries. when he notices your eyes linger longer on a vivienne westwood necklace, the next day, it’s yours. he gave you a cryptic necklace that spells venus. he worships you like a goddess, hence, venus.

his venus.

you get the cigarette from his mouth and put it on yours. he gets it back and stubs it. he's always been like that. he stubs out his cigarettes whenever you’re with him so you don’t inhale the smoke, even if you smoke too.

in amidst of the chilling dawn, you wonder, why isn’t he dating anyone and seeing some other woman that doesn’t always run away from your feelings like you do?

you tell ren to fool around with other girls and enjoy his youth.

he still doesn’t anyway. 

he stays over at your house in the weekends and when he has to leave early he leaves you something to eat. with a note reminding you of the things he remembered in your schedule today that you told him the night before.

he cares about your well-being more than you do.

why?

why does he care so much?

everytime you have sex, your primary feeling, or so you think is always nothing but lust. desire. 

but ren… ren’s is love. 

why is he filled with this much love for you? why doesn’t he give up on you?

ren is always one call away.

remember that one night when you were having a panic attack and was breaking down? with one dial on his number, he picks up. after hearing one muffled sob from your line, because you couldn't form even a single word from weeping, he's dashing towards his car in the middle of a heavy rain with nothing but a shoulder for you to lean on.

you hate how he laughs it off whenever you insult him to stave him away from you. you don't really want to push him away, but your avoidant nature leads you to. he knows you don't mean it.

even when you saw him again after he moved to tokyo, his eyes always had a way of finding you amidst the crowd.

that night after trapnest's concert he found you backstage. everything was a blur after. you shouldn't even be here because seeing trapnest's ren honjo with black stones' [y/n] would make a lot of headlines and destroy his image, yet ren doesn't care.

why is he ready to risk everything just to keep you around?

everything happened quickly. how he pulled you to the side away where no one hears or sees, how you ended up in his house, how he hugged you for the first time after years.

“[y/n], i lo–” you cover his mouth.

“don't. don't say anything.”

he removed your hand from his mouth. “i love you.”

“i said don’t!”

“i get high just to keep my mind off you. you’re only one i want and desire. i love you. i’ve always had–” you cut him off with a kiss.

and then it so happens that one kiss turns into a passionate one, and leads to another, and another.

it was hard to stop.

he was addictive.

maybe the fact that he acts up on the way he wants you, added to the passionate warmth he ignites inside you. something no one has ever made you feel because everyday the universe reminds you you were always unwanted and that's all you'll ever be.

the following morning, you hear a soft moan from his lips while you were sitting on the corner of his bed and buttoning your clothes that were discarded on the floor last night, careful not to wake him up. when you were about to stand up, you felt ren’s hand tugging yours. he didn't say anything, he just held your hand.

“i'm sorry, did i wake you up?”

“stay…” there was something somber in ren's eyes.

“you know i can’t.”

so he lets go of your hand with a forlorn smile.

he expected it, and he understands. yet somehow, he still hopes… he hopes you would.

from there, everytime you leave in the morning after a long night of multiple rounds of sex, he hugs the sheets smittenly to pretend like you were still there. it still smells like you.

yasu and the others eventually found out you and ren were seeing each other like that again. yasu knows way more than he shows. you know he does. he knows about ren's strong regard for you. you didn't. you pretended not to.

which is why you were shocked when nobu's tongue slips and he accidentally blathers, “ren wanted you for so long. it’s crazy. all of these years and yet still you’re the only one he wants and ever wanted. did you cast a love spell on him or something?”

you think about what nobu said a million times everyday.

so much that you wish you hadn't heard it.

you once stayed in ren's unit the morning after for the first time while he went out and answered the door on takumi while wearing one of ren’s white shirts and boxers. you called ren's phone to let him know his bandmate’s here. ren told you to stay there and he’ll be coming as fast as he can. he knows you and takumi do not get along.

takumi sat across you on ren’s couch. “so, what's your relationship with him?” came his condescending question. you can tell he was looking down on you.

what, indeed?

“what's it to you?” you answered with the same monotonous tone.

the truth is, you don't have any idea either.

months continued on with you and ren in that set-up. he's still the same calm and goofy ren you knew.

he still remembers every single thing about you. your scent, your favourite food, music, everything.

then ren came with the question you're most afraid of hearing.

“what… are we?”

ren batted an eye up at you while he was hugging your torso and sitting on the bed while you were straddling his lap.

you searched for an answer.

ren took the long silence and your visible uneasiness as the same answer he got from you over the years.

“i’m always up to take this in the long run. but it’s okay if you don’t want to.” as long as you're here, with me. he buried his face on your chest and you two forgot about it.

maybe takumi was right, you’re just using ren.

he’s okay with that.

this is so wrong.

how could he be that cruel to himself?

ren still reminds you to eat. some habits die hard, no?

whenever he eats with you, he even sanitizes your hands for you, with his own hands rubbing yours to spread the sanitizer.

“stop coddling.” you snatched your hand away from him.

ren chuckles, “okay, sorry.”

he keeps an eye on you in band practices. you threaten him that if he doesn't stop distracting himself with your presence, you'll leave. he obliges, but he won’t hesitate to step in if some creep bothers you.

he's possessive of you even if he doesn't show it openly.

but you're somehow possessive of him too.

when you saw a girl touching his shoulders, you wanted to chop her hand off.

“i’ve been deprived of everything my whole life. now, even my ren?” ren overhears you talking to yourself. your ren, huh?

“i’m sorry, ren.” you pecked a kiss on his lips after you told him to date other girls after you got jealous. “will you forgive me?”

he pulls you into a hug, “it’s okay, i forgive you.” he kisses your cheek. “i never said i don’t love you anymore.” he kisses the side of your neck. “why are you giving me away, anyway? if you’re jealous, be jealous. tell me and i’ll do something about it. don’t give me away like that.” he kisses the side of your head.

such big words for someone who is afraid of communication himself, thought ren.

he’s subtly affectionate to you in public places like when he lays his head on your lap in standby backstage and one of the members of the management asks nobu if you’re dating in which nobu answers “it’s complicated.”

you always turn him down whenever he asks you to stay, but once, he said “i could never refuse you.” while patting your head and hugging you after when you asked him to stay the night.

when you woke up first, you brushed his hair up and planted a kiss on his forehead.

i love you, ren.

three words you can’t say. 

rather, words you’re afraid to say.

ren was always very open with the idea of having a kid with you. but he wouldn’t force you to.

why would he want a future with you?

takumi dislikes you, obviously. you couldn't care less about him, anyway. you hate him with the same passion. he tried to knock sense on ren one time. it didn't go as he planned.

“i see your woman’s quite a catch.” takumi puffs his cigarette.

“of course.” ren replied.

“but she's quite like a closeted harlot.”

he's wrong. you never had anyone else after ren.

ren's ears tingled and his eyes darkened upon hearing what takumi said. “are you insulting her?”

“don’t get me wrong. the way i see it, she doesn’t seem emotionally involved with you. it seems to me that you’re the only one who is in your relationship, whatever you two are. if i know, i’d say she only wants sex and not love. you’re okay with that?” takumi chuckles.

ren raises his head. “so be it. i couldn’t care less.” if that’s what it takes to keep you around him.

“i’m just warning you, dude.” takumi raises both his hands in a defensive manner. “women like that, they're for the streets–”

ren, for once lost his calm demeanour and threw a shot glass at the nearest wall. the loud sound of the glass shattering startled everyone around them. even reira who was recording a demo of one of their tracks.

ren's face was settled into a death stare. it was scarier than a face that really showed anger. his fists clenched after the burst of anger he let out and takumi was taken aback by the unexpected behavior of his usually composed bandmate.

“i don’t want to hear you talk about her ever again.” he coldly turned his back on his bandmate to go outside and calm himself down.

ren rarely gets mad. but when it's about you...

you don’t even get into fights often because ren stays out of drama and he avoids confrontations. which is why he's prone to keeping his emotions to himself instead of expressing them. he's very non-confrontational.

his desire to take your relationship to the next step was strong, but the desire to keep you around him was stronger. he knows he’ll drive you away if he mentions about tying the knot in a serious talk.

he likes using any products with your signature scent. it makes him feel like you’re there with him everywhere he goes.

“ren, you smell like white wine and strawberries, just like a girl!” was what reira told him upon stepping inside the room while sniffing him. “it leaves a scent trail. it smells familiar. what perfume are you using?”

ren turned to her, “it's [y/n]’s shower gel.”

“[y/n]? from black stones? woah, you stay at her place?” naoki stood up from his seat. ren entertained their questions for a little while.

it goes the same for you too in band practices too.

“is that ren’s perfume on you?” nobu speaks from behind you, smelling the familiar scent of his friend on you.

“no.”

“but…” nobu scans your figure. “oh. it’s because you’re wearing his shirt.”

you didn’t even smell how the shirt smelled like ren. it’s just your nostrils got so used to his scent that it didn’t even register to you how you didn’t smell like yourself.

your relationship was unstable and full of uncertainties, and you hate being emotionally vulnerable in front of anyone, even him.

sometimes, you want to leave.

“ren.”

“hm?”

but then you embrace him and suddenly, you’re reminded how strong your feelings are for ren honjo.

he stares at your face longer than he should in the morning when he wakes up first and you’re sleeping soundly next to him.

you’re beautiful. like you came straight out of a magazine.

if you were to be put beside supermodels, you’d outshine everyone. ren revels at the thought. if your face were to be featured in a magazine, he’ll frame it and keep it forever.

ren mutes all phone calls when he’s sleeping with you. but when he goes on tour, his mind is there back at home with you.

“i didn’t know booty calls worry what the other person eats. is that how people do it nowadays? so modernized, truly shocking.” came takumi’s remark while talking to reira and naoki out of ren's earshot.

“that’s so mean, takumi. leave him alone.” reira interjected, having flashbacks of when he offended ren when he was talking to him about you. her eyes were also on ren who's on the phone with you.

you'll always come back to him, he’ll always be waiting for you to go to his arms. you two are hopeless.

more time passed and you're finally decided to take a step forward, which ren was only waiting for you to initiate.

one snowy night while you and ren were sharing each other's heat, you hovered on top of him.

ren stops you. “wait,”

“do you not want to?” you were prepared to get off him in case he doesn't want to do it, but he held you in place.

“it’s not like that. it’s just…” he trailed, “i do want a family with you more than anything. i have never denied that. but if you’re off the pill right now then…”

“so what?”

“i don’t want you to get pregnant if you don’t want to. what i say doesn’t matter. decide for yourself.”

“i want your child, inside me, ren.”

he was about to tell you to think it through again, but you put his hand on your hip. “let's start a family.”

and once again, he can never deny you of anything.

after weeks, you didn't take the news well about hachi and that asshole, takumi.

“one of these days, i’ll snatch hachi back from you.” you told him.

“are you in love with my fiancèe even after everything, [y/n]? i pity ren for being ardent with his love for you. dump him if you can’t love him back like that. he doesn’t deserve your half-assed love.” takumi smirks, enjoying how riled up he makes you while relaying the news.

you thought you were just crazy when you gone through a deep state of grief after that conversation.

but you found out another cause were your hormones.

you're pregnant.

when you told ren you were pregnant, he reacted to the news calmly yet he was ecstatic. he's been waiting for this moment with you all along.

you chose not to tell ren about the conversation you had with takumi about hachi only a few days ago that put you in distress. you know he'd do something about it, and that'll cause more problems for him.

nothing much changed for the first few weeks, you continued on with your gigs while your belly wasn't showing yet and you can still move around normally.

ren stopped his substance abuse when he learned he'll be stepping into fatherhood.

yasu always keeps a close eye on you especially whenever ren is not around, even without ren's instructions. he's always there to aid you whenever you need something, which rarely ever happens because your pride doesn't let you ask for help from anyone. yasu still insists, anyway.

nobu speaks to your not-so-showing yet belly under your edgy peplum top and tells your kid to not grow like his or her mom, you, all gloom and grumpy. he earns a smack on his head in return. he's still in a state of grief himself after how unfortunate his relationship with hachi ended up, but he's happy to be a soon-to-be-uncle to your child.

shin follows you everywhere like a puppy. he accompanies you to your walk to you and ren's shared unit and he stays over whenever he wants to. sometimes falling asleep comfortably on your lap while you watch light-hearted movies on the tv.

when you started showing, you took a break from the band for a few months but you didn't disclose your pregnancy to the media, announcing that it's only a hiatus.

when your belly started to get bigger, your clothes fitted small to you, which is why to maximize their use, you let shin have his way with your closet. you had somehow similar versatile fashion styles, anyway. because of his small frame, almost everything in your wardrobe fits him. you told him to grab whatever he wants to borrow from your closet.

ren is there every step of the way. he buys you a lot of food. whatever you need, he'll go through hell to get.

he'd give his trapnest career up if ever he gets put in a situation where he has to choose.

when you gave birth, everyone visited.

everyone... but hachi.

you try not to think about her anymore, but you still wonder about her whereabouts. you told ren and the others to stop talking about her in front of you when you were pregnant so it became a sensitive topic for everyone to talk about. and besides, you know another factor is also because takumi locks her away.

you only overheard from yasu that hachi gave birth to her child with takumi too, a few months before you gave birth to venus.

ren used to call you his venus.

your daughter’s name is venus.

venus honjo.

it's a pretty name the both of you agreed on giving such a pretty girl like your daughter.

you always opt to eat healthy while breastfeeding.

ren is a good father to venus. she's more close to her father, that's why her first word was “dada”.

he gave your daughter everything the both of you never had, and you protected your daughter from the things no one protected you from when you were younger.

you were extra gentle with her because you too, were a little girl once, and she doesn't have to go through the same pain you went through during girlhood.

ren got deja vu when he was coddling venus and she snatched her arm from him.

“i kept praying she wouldn’t take after you. i guess her mama’s genes are stronger as expected.” ren laughed after what just happened. the engagement ring on his finger shining under the morning sunlight made you look at yours.

you ended up with him after everything.

and yet the words to describe your relationship with ren honjo are still nowhere to be found.

'she’s an angel,

a goddess.

my goddess.

like venus.

a beauty.'

***

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[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Hi! I really like your stories and I saw that requests were open, may I ask for a David or Marko X fem reader where they use like vampire mind powers on her? Could be soft or angst

Totally fine if you're not comfortable with it!

Hi! Thank you for requesting (and sorry for the wait. I had to finish uo some chapters of Changes before i lost the inspiration). I hope you like this!💜

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I was not a risk taker. That much I knew. I'd never speed while driving, I'd never trust someone blindly. I'd never went into a test, knowing I hadn't studied well. I never left anything up to chance, always trusting my own gut instinct more than I did anyone else. I never did anything without calculating the outcome first. So no, I did not take risks.

And yet, here I was, going out on what must now be my twenty-somethingth date with him. The ultimate risk taker. Seriously, if anyone was taking risks, it was him. Marko just loved irking people on and pissing them off just to see what would happen. He loved riding his bike, jumping over gaps and chasms he could find, laughing it off if it almost went wrong. He loved the thrill of the chase, the adventure, the unknown - and somehow that led him to me. Or me to him, I wasn't sure.

As much as all these things terrified me, I liked him. How could I not after dating him for quite some time, hanging out almost nightly and going on official dates every once in a while. He was funny charming, caring - and of course excelling at terrifying the living shit out of me by doing some weird stunt.

"Trust me, you're going to be fine."

I raised an eyebrow, looking at him. "I don't think cliff diving is a good idea when it's day. You really want me to do it at night?"

I looked down from the cliff we were standing on, looking down at the roaring waves clashing against sharp stones.

"I am with you," he turned to me, giving me a soft smile as he took my hand, "what's the worst that could happen?"

"I'd die by hitting those rocks? Or I drown? I've even heard of someone getting paralysed by hitting the water wrong, so-"

"I won't let that happen to you."

I rolled my eyes as i saw how much he struggled to not laugh. "I'm being serious, Marko! I don't think it's smart-"

"When is the last time you left things to chance?"

I shrugged, sitting down and letting my legs hang over the edge. "Can't remember."

"Must be stressful."

Marko sat down next to me.

"I don't know, it's what I'm used to. I'm just - I'm not a risk taker, you know?"

He chuckled, pulling me close. "I know. But I need you to trust me, just this once."

"I don't want to dive."

"I never said anything about diving, you concluded that when we got here."

"You never denied it either!"

He smirked, causing me to sigh as I looked at him. Still, I was curious. "Then what are we here to do?"

"Fly."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You have lost it."

"Come on, you'll love it!"

"Humans can't fly!"

"You know I'm not. And I know you want to. You said it yourself when I asked you about superpowers."

"Yeah, but that was hypothetical. Not real..." I trailed off, not looking at him. He sighed, standing up, offering his hand to me.

"I won't fly off the cliff, but I am going to take you flying."

"But what if-"

"Babe, look at me," Marko stared into my eyes, and I felt a sudden calm wash over me. "You are perfectly safe. You're going to be fine. Do you trust me?"

I blinked as I realised what he was doing. Mind control. And yet, that last question wasn't him controlling me, I realised. It was him asking permission. I nodded slowly, still feeling uncertain, but trusting him regardless.

Marko smiled, hugging me close before I felt the ground disappear from beneath my feet. I closed my eyes, too scared to look, but as Marko had promised, I felt perfectly safe.

"You can open your eyes, you know."

With an uncertain smile I did, looking at him and then at the sky around us. We weren't flying too high, only about six feet. If I fell, I would probably only be a little bruised - but I'd be fine. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I nodded softly, adjusting my grip. Marko chuckled, landing slowly.

"That wasn't that bad, was it?"

I shook my head, hugging him tightly. "I just don't like taking leaps of faith."

"Babe," Marko looked at me, "why would you say that in such an apologetic tone? I don't fucking care. You teach me to become a little more careful, I teach you to become more care free-"

"Have I made you more careful?"

"You'd have a heart attack if you'd seen how I drove before meeting you."

I looked at him wide eyed. "I already have to fight a heart attack with how you drive!"

"Imagine," he said, giving me a kiss on my forehead as we walked back to his bike, "How bad it was before."