#especially when the abuser is supposed to love you

[emptymanuscript]

Especially pay attention to "confuse the masses" and "obey in advance."

Because it is always worth remembering that:

Executive orders are NOT law.

They are government directives.

They are official memos from the President telling the Executive Branch (which is only 1/3rd of the government) what policies they should follow in the process of doing their duties.

They can be challenged in court the same as any law, except, an executive order is ALWAYS subject to another law which it conflicts with. Because that law is a law and an executive order is not.

The executive branch is tasked with ENFORCING the laws that exist, not making laws itself.

The right to MAKE laws is explicitly granted to the Congress, a co-equal 1/3rd of government.And it is explicitly granted ONLY to Congress.

Neither of the other two branches of government are allowed to MAKE a law.

The executive branch is only entitled to enforce a law. The judicial branch is only entitled to interpret the law. The three parts of the task are split up so that no single branch can do everything, exactly to prevent the sort of behavior that is happening right now. The founders of the country actually did foresee this kind of obvious abuse of power and wrote the constitution to try and prevent this sort of thing from happening.

Which is exactly why the fascists LOVE the constitution when they're the minority political faction. Because it depowers their opponents capabilities to work against them.

AND

It is exactly why the fascists don't give two shits about the constitution when they're the majority political faction. Because it gives their opponents the capabilities to hem them in.

An executive order may function like a law because of how it directs the executive branch to act.

It is within the executive branch's rights to decide HOW to enforce the law because that's their job and granted power.

But once a law says otherwise, the very best an executive order can do is to say, hey, I want you to concentrate on other, more important things because we have to pick and choose our battles.

I'll give you a very specific example of someone I knew who used to be in the executive branch and how that sort of thing played out.

They were an agent with the FBI. That means their job is to ENFORCE the laws of the US. However, they are given the right to use their own best judgement in how to BEST enforce the laws of the US.

At the time of this event, President Obama had put out an executive order that Marijuana, though still illegal federally, should be a low priority compared to other tasks.

So, the FBI agent was on a plane, flying from their home office to somewhere else to do a job for the FBI. They were technically on duty and on assignment for the entirety of the trip. But they're not doing anything so they don't go around identifying themselves when they don't have to because... why would they? AND it gives people information that they shouldn't necessarily have, like where a dangerous weapon might be on a plane.

So, the person in the seat next to the agent starts talking to them like a completely normal, not on duty person. And is trying to be jokey and fun because they WANT to talk. So they're quipping about how they hope that they don't get their bag searched because they've got so much pot in their bag. And they're just laughing it up about how much of a pothead they are. La de da.

At which point, the FBI agent has to make a decision. They are legally entitled to immediately arrest the person in the next seat. But that's not the current job they're supposed to be working on. If they do, it says who they are, with all those attendant difficulties. It creates a whole lot of paperwork which they would have to do immediately instead of going directly onto their job. And, it's frankly a LOT of hassle, work, and social discomfort for something that will get the FBI agent essentially nothing but more work and which will amount to nothing much more than a slap on the wrist for the person in the next seat because the executive order in play also tells the severely overworked prosecutor who also works for the government, which the FBI agent will have to work with, to go for the least amount of punishment available.

The FBI agent just smiles and nods and tries to get out of the conversation. Because that's a really stupid use of their enforcement powers. It would be a lot of trouble for essentially no benefit. And so the agent just takes the executive order as the overriding guide and does not enforce the federal marijuana law in favor of sticking to their more important mission duties which might be hampered by all the requirements of responding to this law.

That's exactly the way executive orders really work. They order people how to act.

If the opposite executive order had been in place. Something like: Marijuana is the most dangerous, exestitential threat to the United States and all officers should seek out and enforce every possible enforcement at all costs. Then the FBI agent would have had to arrest the person in the next seat, in spite of the hassle, otherwise they would be in violation of the executive order and would get written up and reprimanded for not doing their job, even though it would have conflicted with their current investigation.

That's what executive orders CAN do. Order specific objectives and behaviors of specific government officials.

An executive order CAN tell anyone who works for the executive branch to exercise any authority they legally have in any way they are legally allowed to exercise their power.

It is pretty literally an order from a commanding officer to their junior officers.

Which means it is still subject to all the laws that bind what orders may and may not be given.

Most of these executive orders are outside the legal authority granted to the executive branch. Which means they will be followed UNTIL they are challenged. At that point they fall under the authority of the Judicial branch. It is then up to the Judicial branch to decide how the law demands the executive order be followed and enforced. And that can absolutely include the decision: this executive order isn't legally executable and has to be overturned. You can't do that, no matter what the President says, because it is against the law.

Things like that are why some executive orders from the president's previous term in office are still wending their way through the court system to determine how or even if they can be followed.

The President cannot change the law.

He is bound by the law and subject to it. Even the massive overpower that the supreme court just gave the presidency by their utter bullshit interpretation of constitutional law only means that the President can't be prosecuted or held legally at fault for issuing illegal orders. He is still bound by the law and is required to follow it, as are all the people who follow his orders. It only grants him immunity from the consequences of not following the law. It still doesn't give him permission to make or change law. He is explicitly not given that power.

Food for thought

[thewoollyviking]

Wanted to take a point I made in a reblog chain and make it its own post because I feel it put to words something that’s been bothering me about SU and the Diamonds in particular.

The Diamonds did not actually mourn Rose for those thousands of years after the war. And trying to get us to sympathize with their grief while turning around to denounce Rose felt so incredibly tone deaf.

Let me explain a bit why I feel this way…

So, according to the art books, all four Diamonds are rough around 20,000 years old. To give you an idea how old that is compared to irl history…

There are figures early humans carved from mammoth ivory and spear tips carved from flint that were made when the bottom of the North Sea was still a mammoth steppe in Doggerland.

Subtract the time Rose spent on Earth after the war (give or take a few centuries) and assuming the craptastic treatment she endured under the Diamonds has pretty much been the norm for all that time, and she had been abused for roughly 10-12,000 years.

Rose’s abuse predates agriculture and written language.

I. Do not. Give. A single. Chicken. Fried. Fuck. How sad or sorry the Diamonds think they were after losing Rose.

Oooooh booo fucking hooo Blue sulked in the middle of a human zoo Rose never even wanted in the first place.

Yellow knew Rose wanted to spare Earth and apparently thought the best way to honor her memory was to blow it the fuck up.

And White’s first action seeing “Pink” return was to send a mind controlled version of her original Pearl to greet her as a power move. To remind her what happens when she doesn’t control her power.

They didn’t mourn Rose. They mourned the person they wanted her to be.

I struggle to think of any other example of behavior both in the show or just in fiction altogether that’s this self destructive, self righteous, and self entitled.

This wasn’t morning, this was a 5,750 year long temper tantrum from the three of them.

And that’s made all the more clear once they realized Steven isn’t Rose.

Barely a few years after the end of season five and they seem completely unphased by the revelation that Rose really, truly is gone. And that her passing was not the act of some rogue gem, but their own abusive behavior chasing her away and being haunted by personal demons they inflicted on her.

Nope, their only goal now is getting Steven to take her place and live with them.

“Aww Pink’s gone? Gee that sucks. Welp, time to find a new pink!”

Suddenly now that they don’t have some villain to blame for their misfortune, they’re all too happy to sweep it under the rug.

Fuck dude, some people mourn Healthcare CEOs more than the Diamonds actually mourned Rose.

And yet the Diamonds get that nice fairy tale happy ending where they can be quirky space grandmas who think what they’re doing will ever hope to make up for the suffering they caused.

Meanwhile, Rose’s own loved ones feel like they have to apologize for daring to mention her in a positive light and worry they’re making excuses for her.

The Diamonds have been the instigators who made everything worse without fail. They’re the reason Rose came out as such a broken fucking person and yet we’re asked to pass more judgement on her for not being enough of a perfect fucking princess to solve things Steven’s way?

Rose spent her entire goddamn life clawing her way out of that pit of misery but we’re supposed to scoff at her for getting mud on her dress along the way?

What the fuck was the point in showing that Rose spent that lifetime trying to be better to just end it with “maybe her family would be better off if they just stopped thinking about her altogether.”

I still love this show. But I cannot and will not ever be able to rewatch Future.

The Diamonds are a gaggle of entitled, selfish, miserable, wretched hags. All of the grief they endured was entirely their own damn fault and they only have themselves to blame. They do not deserve a single fucking shred of sympathy. Especially not if the show wanted to end with leaving their most notable victim on such a bitter, hateful note.

[loofwoof]

Fave LIs from RC, SHS, and LOD???? 💖💖

Oh boy I have a lot so be prepared!

RC:

Jonas (PSI): I tend to stay away from childhood romances because they always hinge on the past and sometimes the LI refuses to see that the heroine changed (like Wyatt) but in Jonas case?

The relationship is addressed, Lou is hesitant because she is afraid to lose one of her most important friend so she fights so hard against her own feelings.

Yet you can't deny the chemistry and it ends with her succumbing to what she feels.

Jonas is snarky, wild, bold and his audacity know no bounds, but I will always love how he isn't afraid to disagree with Lou even if he loves her. They fight and believe in different things after all.

Friedrich (THE) is another LI I love: Arina can write beautiful characters and relationship and Friedrich is a good example of it.

He is the epitome of too good for this sinful earth but what I especially love is how despite all the things he went through, all the abuse he endured, the many times he struggled with the things he believe...

He is still gentle and willing to help.

Greg (HS:R): Sasha shitty treatment aside, Greg is my fave because he is like a mix of Jonas and Friedrich: Friendly but willing to disagree with the heroine if she is doing something she shouldn't.

What the squad did is always the rough part of his route, but I love how he is willing to make amends even when he isn't your LI. He is always around Lane corner supporting her, making her comfortable and S2 shows he can be a capable leader when Dmitry was unable to lead the squad.

If only Sasha could see his potential...

With LOD:

Caleb (SON): My first LI! this sweet necromancer is a good subversion of your typical person dealing with death: he is cheerful, make good jokes, supports you even if he is dead, and is willing to do everything for his friends.

The wait for him is worth it.

Casper (LOB): Oh god, what can I say about him? Casper is a nutso who scares me Scarlett and is always someone who ends bickering a lot with her.

Yet this guy is willing to go against his own boss to defend his friend and the annoying woman who always occupy his thoughts...

His backstory made me cry a little, no matter what he thinks, I think he deserves love too.

Luther (PS): Superman but edgy is what I used to said about him but damn, what a rough hand Luther is forced to deal with: from everyone hating him because he lost the control of his powers, to losing his family, and now being a runaway, is no wonder why he fell in love with Amelia: she is the one person who supports him even if she doesn't approve what happened before and considering he might die thanks to the serum...

Life is too short to wonder about the what if.

SHS:

Vincent(DB): My bunny man! no matter how maimed, broken, hurt he is, Vincent will always help Robin and I still find hilarious the way she confessed her feelings towards him.

To think he wasn't supposed to be a LI...

Flock(Ragnarok Saga): He is a scoundrel who is willing to cheat and kill but his chemistry with Tsvia is insaneee!

They are the definition of partners in crime: they might bicker a lot, complain about what the other might want to achieve or the ridiculous things they want to do but in the end, they tend to gravitate towards each other...

Together? Together.

Shade (IOF): Ughhh!!! He is Chloe-ex who ghosted her and you shouldn't ever be involved with exes 😤😤😤😤😤!

Yet the chemistry is undeniable and Shade is one of the very few LIs who makes Chloe to lose her composure.

He is a bad boy but compared to your usual stuff, he wasn't abusive towards her: he always protected her and respected her boundaries, waiting for her to make the first move even if he makes his intentions very clear.

He is crass, swears a lot, is a smoker, a bastard, but he is willing to defend Chloe until the bitter end.

Plus, it was hilarious when he was sending his lyrics through text messages and Chloe wondered if he was drunk or what.

Thanks for the ask!

[revacholian-girl-utena]

There are no stars. There is no light. There will be no future. (Requested by @thediscoelysiumlesbian )

Alt text: Screencaps from Revolutionary Girl Utena with overlaid text. 1: A closeup of Anthy's eyes, hair down and no glasses, staring down Utena in the moment she discovers Akio abusing Anthy. Text: "Oh, yes."

2: A closeup of Utena's eyes, wide with shock, from the same scene. Text: "This is real darkness."

3: A framed photo of Akio and Anthy, half in shadow as the window shades rise to reveal the room. Text: "Real darkness has love for a face."

4: Anthy's silhouette, hair flying wildly, pierced by many blades. Text: "The first death is in the heart." End alt text.

[horizon-verizon]

@jimmyjones12345 @pessimisticpigeonsworld

Also, to expand & explain what pigeon was saying about "it is a part of the Love vs Duty theme GRRM has woven throughout all of ASoIaF":

Rhaegar and Lyanna's story is written as a love story, specifically a forbidden love story in the vein of their "duties" as noblepeople functions to make even the nobles themselves both unhappy and subject to the abuses and exploitation of their parents. It suppresses their free will particularly in who they get to marry, reproduce with, and be intimate with and not even just romantically/sexually but also platonically. Especially if you are a woman/girl like Lyanna.

From small childhood (5 and up, and I am giving a number under 10 arbitrarily but it still runs true that it is under 10), Westerosi aristocracy and their parents and the Faith (happens in the North, too) impart and compel girls to comport their minds and bodies to towards marriage and away from activities that lend toward leadership or resource-acquirement through warfare. Masculinized activities. Because women are socially assigned the role as breeders for men's heirs. Men's "bearer-teacher-warden of his children" (Howard Zinn, A Peoples History of the United States). All that discipline of feminine "grace" and obedience getting s about that, this the emphasis of pre-marriage virginity and post-marriage chastity--sexual purity, to "ensure" women do not birth children that aren't their husbands and "cuckold" or discredit him in the eyes of his peers. As she is meant to participate and support the man's dignity by staying "pure" and he is supposed to maintain said "dignity" by maintaining seeming and actual control over those deemed his property or under his authority. Obviously this has included his wife, even his betrothed bc that is a deal made between the father or whatever make relative lives for the betrothed girl and the soon-to-be husband/his family. Lyanna is directly disobeying this "duty" by defying her socially signed destiny. And like pigeon said, she defies it by engaging and being good at the masculinized martial activities when she becomes the Knight of the Laughing tree, learned how to fight, and won an actual tourney against grown men.

How does Rhaegar disobey or defy his aristocratic duties? It's more layered. First, you are supposed to obey your father AND your king in Westerosi' mores of the social concept and dynamics of "family" AND the obligations of obedience owed to one's king. (Kingslaying is a serious taboo). This isn't a Valerian or a Targ thing, it's been an Andal thing since way before the Conquest. Rhaegar planned to usurp Aerys' and take the throne because Aerys' was crazy and running things to high corruption. But not only that, Rhaegar was doing it bc he believed that he had to prepare the kingdom for the coming cataclysmic Long Night and either be the prince that was promised or produce them--and you can't do that when your government is and its base +the aristocracy) is so divided and distrustful of each other.

Other than that, he was also married to Elia and it's described by the author himself as a "tragedy" somewhat dramatically but also it was corroborated by Barristan Selmy that their marriage was not exactly what Rhaegar would have chosen. Two things can be true at once: Rhaegar, as a man, was not and would never be subject to the helplessness and life-long forced compliance of shaping his entire personality and desires for a person who'd be his intimate, lifelong "superior as a husband is to the woman-wife AND he can be unfaithful as much as he can the way noblewomen could never be, but he is also still not entitled to choose the person he's meant to have kids with NOR create a relationship with/build trust with. This is not just sympathy, it is fact.

GRRM says his relationship with Elia was "complex", and I take that to mean that he simply was never emotionally attached to her despite trying; when you factor in Elia having been so ill that she nearly died birthing Aegon, there appears to have been a previous already existing distance between them that developed more distant. They can't be around together much and Elia couldn't be at court often, and Rhaegar was out busy trying to build alliances, maintain, them, plot against Aerys', and continuously learn more about the prophecy. Elia had been relatively healthy and physically close to Rhaegar in the very beginning of their marriage, yet he didn't get that close with her or was attracted--and we don't know how Elia felt and how her feelings may or may not have progressed. So it's insufficient to say that:

he could have fallen for Elia if Elia had just stayed healthy (GRRM's fault by disabling Elia for RhaegarxLyanna)

Rhaegar should have stayed with Elia during the worst of her illnesses and bed stays instead of "doing the list and being distracted" and he would or could have fallen for her or bonded with her or just liked her enough

If it didn't take in the start when she was relatively the healthiest she was and they didn't have kids, it wasn't going to work later. Rhaegar was "busy' when he met Lyanna, but the attraction there was instant or at least quick to come. And their bond progressed quickly. Plus, I don't think anyone deserves a man who only pays attention to them & "falls" for them when they are so feeble from performing their "duties" as the heir's consort.

Other than the sociopolitical duties of an heir and an aristocratic son of a king, there was also the secret duty Rhaegar took upon himself when he thought he was either the PTWP or had to produce said person or whatever. His duties as a royal/part of the general aristocracy, the heir, and as Aerys' son/political subject directly conflicted with this separate duty, but because he seems to be the only one aware of it, even trying to understand it or use it, and take seriously the worldwide stakes. This is also all considering the fact that he was likely to know Aerys' abusing his mother Rhaella and not being able to do much "legally" or about it since young. At the same time, it is because of others' inattention/selfish pursuits AND because he had the power that he has or saw that he could develop as he got older (as he was doing) and his position that he seemed to think that only he could advance with the prophecy. Thus his "mundane" aristocratic duties and Targaryen (dragonriders blood) ALSO served to enable him to even attempt to try to "save the world" AND yet, this is a different sort of "duty" that his love for Lyanna troubled because it had the strong potential (and outcome, as we see) to derail his plans/focus. Ironically, their love also came in conflict with THIS "duty"--the duty that reflected what I think is Rhaegar's "love" for humanity/justice or at least cosmic and LIFE balance because it tripped up his already shaky control over his affairs, that delicate political balance--his part of the matrix that was the entire Aerys-era politics every known and unknown noble was active in.

So a duty taken completely by one's choice--BUT for people like Rhaegar who care about things more than what is right in front of them or don't focus on JUST their and others' own everyday sociopolitical conditions (which if one is not careful like Rhaegar they can completely neglect and that is not good either) it is not really a "choice" bc it does need to be handled for humanity/society's safety--was directly in conflict, ironically, with that which the sociopolitical conditions have inspired Rhaegar to be attracted and loved Lyanna--the pressures from the responsibilities that of being the heir of a corrupted court and society versus loving that which would defy all of that BECAUSE it defies all of that, which Lyanna was as a person...even though yes she also, ironically, ran off with another woman's husband and would have been recognized as a mistress or paramour of sorts if she hadn't been already betrothed to Robert and these actors all weren't in the type of setting Aerys' and Tywin both influenced. Rhaegar did not create a court of suspicion and fear or make the nobles around him ever more hungry for power, that was Tywin and Aerys as well as the nature of the feudalist monarchy. Yes, how Rhaegar acted was self contradictory and extremely unfair to Elia, maybe Lyanna as well. But they all, to their unique degrees and conditions, were stuck in a rock and a hard place, under many limits.

Rhaegar and Lyanna could not be together because of said monarchial/feudalist conditions not could they successfully be completely themselves as they would have liked bc the same and in their attempts to overcome them, they fucked up BUT they fucked up bc of them not perfectly navigating those limited conditions and trying to innovate a way "out" or around them. And Elia should not have been arranged to marry some guy who would never love her or regard her as every woman deserves, especially in lieu of the prophecy/usual sociopolitical "bigger pictures" that took precedence over her. Whether you believe they should have or didn't. And of course, Lyanna should not have to be forced to marry some dud who'd think he loved her but would have abused and cheated on her. Rhaegar didn't deserve an abusive, crazy, entitled father and had to have basically the entire future of his world AND society on his shoulders bc said father wouldn't come up to the plate.

The issue with Rhaegar was that he planned poorly and failed to rearrange himself or decide how to safely incorporate Lyanna without ruining things with the Martells or ruining other relations BECAUSE he thought the solution and inevitability was that he could do it all. And bc Lyanna was the Knight of the Laughing Tree winning the tourney not shortly before Rhaegar gave her the crown of the Queen of Love and Beauty and Aerys' wanted to hunt down the Knight (not knowing who she was), there wasn't really much time to make a plan for her safety other than keeping her identity a secret. Layer when they come across each other again, there's many different ideas why and how they ran off. Some say they planned to leave together before they met up again, some say it was a spur of the moment decision in lieu and that Rhaegar was out of Dragonstone just to find more information about the prophecy and happened to see Lyanna about as well. Some say Lyanna sneaked out or tricked her family to leave because Rhaegar might have happened to mention where he'd be or intended to be or just to have some space from said family and Robert. We'll see if GRRM ever manages to finish WoW. It's supposed to be a mystery for now.

In other words, GRRM is not trying to find "answers" to make us apply hard and fast moral standards; he's simply exploring the conditions of love vs duty and how people make their decisions thereof while trying to be good leaders. Of course there's a morality, but the point is to FIGURE OUT and question whether the boundaries of one's conditions require one to consider the quality of familiar morals and ones actions to maybe reconfigure them and one's reality. Be adaptive.

People in the ASOIAF fandom are very obsessed with passive women they can project onto. The obsessions with the characters of show!Alicent, Sansa, Elia, and Helaena are perfect examples of this.

In the show, Alicent is changed from a woman who actively seeks power and heads the scheming of the green faction into a passive victim who watches and reacts to the men around her. And yet, despite this being a much more boring characterization, the show version is vastly more preferred by her stans. They condemn her book character as simply an "evil stepmother trope" while completely ignoring how their fav is just as blank and tropey as they accuse her book counterpart to be. Alicent stans want her to be the show's blank victimized canvas.

Helaena is someone who the show changed very little in the adaptation, because both book and show Helaena have little impact on the plot other than to be victims of their surroundings. Both women are forced to marry Aegon at thirteen and have his children, go through B&C, and are the least active members of the green faction. The show only added elements to make her more tragic: her dreaming and autistic behaviors. Helaena's character makes her the perfect canvas for certain fans to project themselves onto as she simply exists to be victimized and play the dutiful wife/daughter despite her circumstances, just like the show version of her mother.

Elia Martell is a woman who we know very little about. She died thirteen years before the events of ASOIAF and, unlike characters like Rhaegar and Lyanna, she has no pov characters who think about her enough for us to learn anything about her. The only things we know are that she was loved by her family, was in an arranged marriage to Rhaegar, had his two (confirmed) children, and was brutally raped and murdered by Lannister men. She is an unknown character and, again unlike Rhaegar and Lyanna, has no known active role in the events surrounding the Rebellion. Because of these things, she is, again, the perfect blank canvas for people to project on.

Sansa is, despite being a prominent pov character in ASOIAF, a very passive character. She rarely takes action in her circumstances and simply reacts to them while trying to survive. There's nothing wrong with this, she's a young girl who has never had to fight for anything in her life, it's not unexpected or condemnable for her reaction to her circumstances to be this way. However, her passivity is something her stans obsess over. She is praised for being the "perfect lady" and they project their desires to see her rule onto her and how they view her story.

These women have been chosen by these fans because of their passivity and tragedy. They love that the women have suffered in the name of the "duty" they believe is higher than them. Because they love passivity, they hate the women of ASOIAF who are active in their own lives and fight to better their circumstances. Characters like Rhaenyra, Arya, Daenerys, and Lyanna are all massive influences on the world and purposely chose to challenge the patriarchy. Since they did not take their suffering silently, theses certain fans view them as wrong and hate them. They only love the women they can project on and who simply refuse to fight for better lives.

[pokeformerz]

I have such a love/hate relationship with HH...

love the huge step forward it has taken for indie animation,

hate how crazy it makes people

[gojosprettyprincess]

CRY, BABY!!

Dacrycilia, creampie, he's a lil tease, praise n degradation, Not proofread. This was supposed to be for kinktoberr!

Kinktober List ԅ(°Д°ԅ)

You and Satoru are an experimental couple when it comes to intervening and accommodating each other's sexual desires. So needlessly to say, the two of you have fucked and tried out a lot of different kinks/fetishes especially when it comes to exploring sex positions.

One night he'd be standing on the floor, the warmth of his strong hands kneading into the soft curves of your ass—his big muscular arms supporting your weight and holding you up effortlessly as you wrapped your legs securely around his waist, your soft breast comfortably pressed against his broad chest as your arms entwined around his neck, hanging on for dear life as he slams you down on his lengthy cock, stuffing your hole to the brim of him until you could feel every inch of his length stretching your pussy open, just for him to lift you back up like lightweight—repeating the cycle till your cum is dripping down his balls and pooling onto the floor.

You’d get cross-eyed and make a disgusting dripping mess all over him. just the thought of him being so strong to support your weight for so long and effortlessly treating your body as if you were a little sexdoll—his little doll and fucked you absolutely stupid made your mind hazy. His biceps and back muscles flexing against your palms, motivating you even more to mark up the strongest—to make all the dumb little bitches that think they have a chance with him know who he already belongs to you.

Another night he'd have you face down, ass up in a disorderly arch he manhandled you in, your soaked panties lazily pulled to the side of your cheek, using it as cleavage to pull you back onto his cock—accommodating his pace and adjusting to his rhythm as he delved deeper into your tight warm pussy. The air filled with desire and lust as he continuously pounds it into you in a brutal manner, your ass rippled against his pelvis as they met together—making his cock penetrate deeper into your velvet walls. He mutters a low “fuck” under his breath, as his eyes locked onto the movement of your back dimples flexing because of the brutal arch as both of your moans fill the air.

But Satoru’s all-time favorite position to ruin you in, will always be missionary just for the sole purpose of mocking and making fun of you—verbally bullying his adorable little girlfriend for crying and leaking tears on his fat cock while he’s purposely abusing your hole, stretching your tight entrance open to snug his cock into you. Your pathetic tears and vulnerability just fuels him to keep going and fuck even more tears out of you.

“Fuckkk—you like this thick cock splitting this tight little pussy open? Hmm? ” He questioned with hints of mischievous teasing laced in his tone. An amused look plastered on his handsome face as he smirks smugly. Blue eyes pierced, filled with a mixture of amusement and superiority, gazing down at your messed-up ruined face. Streams of what looks like black tears? Cascaded down your face, resulting from the ruined remnants of your expensive mascara running down the side of your softened cheeks as your features distorts in pure pleasure from his treatment.

“Mmm! Oh—fuck ahh” you bit your lips and close your eyes shut as your pussy opened up for him.

The thought of him being the reason for your vulnerability—seeing his little girlfriend leaking droplets of tears from his cock alone, drove him so fucking crazy. It makes him proud. It's Gojo fucking Satoru, it boosts his ego.

“Awww are you crying, sweetheart?” He mocks, in a particular way that makes him seem like he was trying to sound sympathetic but also obvious that he was making fun of you. He fucking loves belittling you like this so fucking much. He knows you’re way too far gone and fucked out stupid by his bullying and rough treatment to give him a proper response other than your uncontrollable moaning. Your pathetic crying and loud whimpers that he fucks out of you says a lot already, so he doesn’t expect one anyways.

The poor bed creaks and shudders loudly against the wall as he passionately fucks himself into your aching, drooling pussy like a crazy possessed motherfucker.

Heavy wet balls thwacking against your slippery asshole that’s coated in a thin layer slick from your arousal every time he thrusts his unrelenting hips into you. His pace was so fucking animalistic, it’s as if his one and only goal was to break and abuse your poor pussy. His cock was stretching your little cunt open so deliciously, the sensation overwhelming your senses with an intoxicating mix of pleasure and desire that you couldn’t stop moaning and babbling noncoherent words that you don’t even think existed. Each powerful, hard thrust brought waves of carnal pleasure, making you completely lost in his crazy primal act. You’re sure as hell glad you bagged yourself a wealthy man who owns a mansion because if it was some normal apartment, there's no way you two wouldn't get noise complaints from your neighbors hearing the loud pounding of the headboard knocking against the walls, along with your fucked out moans and his filthy mouth.

“Hah—Such a goodd girl, is my cock making you cry like this?, Awww I’m sooo sorry sweetheart” he feigned, it’s so damn ironic how he’s “apologizing” yet his questionable actions showed no effort in dissenting what he was apologizing for. His twisted satisfaction at your distress was palpable, matter a fact you could swear you felt his cock hitting harder and harder against your bruised cervix, his tip hitting every single sensitive spot inside of you vehemently.

He let out a vocal moan when he felt your warm walls clenching tighter around his long veiny cock, your hole seizing around him snugly as he continues forcing it in and out, not letting your tightness prevent him from bullying your insides, Causing your back to arch which give him a better angle to fuck his cock deeper into your stubborn walls. “Fuck, you look so pretty like this baby, hahh-shit don't stop sweetheart—keep fucking crying for me” he moans out laughing, you hiss as you felt your thighs aching from being wrapped around his waist so tight–trapping him in. You felt so dizzy—hazed with pleasure as drool escapes your mouth, making him chuckle.

He bites his lip when he feels your cunt fluttering around him nonstop—he already grasp the hint that you're about to cum, even without you telling him.

“Fuck sweetheart, you gonna cum? Gonna make a mess all over this cock? Come on do it, babe, this dick is all fucking yours” he groans, snaking a hand down to rub fast circles on your throbbing clit. He lets out a low “fuck” when he felt how wet and socked you were down there. Your slick dripping down your asshole and onto his expensive sheets—ruining it. If it wasn’t for his blindfold, you would’ve definitely been 100% sure that his eyes were rolling back to his skull.

“Holy shittt— look at this slutty little pussy crying out for me, she’s just like you baby. Such a little crybaby” he laughed through a breathy moan. His hips now fucking into you at a disparated pace as he loses his mind inside your gushing pussy. His jaw falls slack as he continues fucking the both of you towards your horny orgasms. “Fuckk you know what? let’s cum together baby, fucking cum with me” he hissed, sticking his tongue out to lick the pathetic salty tears dripping down your cheeks. Your eyes roll back when you felt his cock twitching and throbbing inside of you as if it’s trying to communicate with your pussy.

He pressed his sticky sweat-covered forehead against yours, his hot minty breath fanning in your face. “Fuckk-hah-shit, are you ready sweetheart, m’gonna cum fuckfuckfuck” the two of you moaned desperately in unison. Your manicured nails dug deep into his toned biceps as cum spurts out of his throbbing dick as your cream smeared over all his cock. His eyes rolled back as he continues mixing your releases together, drips of God knows whose cum drips out of your pussy every time he attempts to fuck it deeper and deeper inside of you.

“Attaa girlll” he praises—painting, out of breath. His body collapses onto yours as heavy breathing fills your ears. His cock still buried deep deep into your soaked pussy. The amount of times you and Satoru fucked in this position was incalculable, maybe it’s because it’s the position he had you in the first time he fucked you— or maybe it’s because he’s such a teasing bully who loves to make fun of you, right in front of your face.

[hampterguts]

y. youre kidding me

[riddlesmoon]

TWILIGHT META FROM THE HP META BLOG? the twilight x hp fans phenomenon... ever since the dawn of time... but yeah twilight is fucking insane innit. i have so many thoughts as someone whose favourite twilight book is the illustrated guide LMAOO

in Carlisle's case, being a vampire hunter makes him resistant to the pull of human blood.

i think its supposed to be his, uh... compassion and possibly willpower that allows him to resist the pull. hes just built different

He falls in with the main vampire governing body in Italy, with what I have to assume is a very useful skillset, since their thing is hunting down rouge vampires. Also, having a vampire who is good enough around blood to be a doctor must be extremely useful when it comes to sourcing blood/victims.

okay i started typing stuff but then i remembered you only mentioned watching the first movie so idk if youre planning on reading/watching the other books, but it is revealed later how the volturi [is their coven name even revealed in the first book? its probably on the wiki anyway] source their victims. unfortunately no carlisle isnt very useful so hes really just their guest. aro's guest specifically. i think everyone else was just like "ur a weirdo but aro likes you so i guess you can stay"

at some point has a falling out - not sure exactly what the catalyst was there

this is really funny by itself. no i dont know why the so-called vegetarian vampire might not get along with/want to stay with a normal vampire coven who eats humans

(Do people ship him with Aro, the touch-telepath vampire leader???)

wow i actually mainly follow two other hp/twilight meta blogs who make it seem like aro/carlisle is quite the rarepair but ive never personally checked the stats. but yeah they really have some roommate energy going on. as livrelady says, "Aro/Carlisle feels very much a one way street to me". especially as the series goes on. hoooo boy

So... does this mean she and Carlisle knew each other before he turned Edward? Is she a mind reader the way her son is, and just pulled the knowledge out of his head? Does Carlisle have a thing for telepaths????

yeah i guess you could say she and carlisle knew each other, in the sense that carlisle was like. her doctor. treating her for the spanish influenza. she didnt meet him on her deathbed presumably sdkjhgsdkg

though ive actually never considered whether his mother might be psychic. its possible since there is at least one instance of someone whose relative has a similar "ability", only half-baked... vampirism is supposed to "enhance" it though so edward was just supposed to be. really intuitive as a human. which turned into actual telepathy. his mother mightve just been very intuitive as well. fully-fledged abilities dont seem to exist in humans except in alice's case

I have to assume their relationship has… a lot going on, since Esme totally remembers the handsome young doctor she met when she was 16, and has a kind of fixation with him. Considering the suicide was the result of the death of a child and an abusive marriage… she almost certainly regards Carlisle as some kind of savior.

im so amused because the books gloss over this so much that kid me totally did not even think about it any deeper. like yeah the guide essentially says this but 11yo me was really like "ok cool theyre married! im sure theyre perfectly normal" and the books do act like they are normal but yeah if you think about it any deeper youre like Hm.

And like, Edward was 17 when his mother died, he remembers her *just* fine, so it's not like Esme is ever going to be a mother replacement. Would love to know more about what their relationship is like.

tbh i feel like edward has sort of... made peace with his mothers death? im pretty sure he thinks of esme as the perfect mother archetype (kind, caring, sweet, etc) so idk about replacement but i think hes fine treating her as a mother. and their relationship... hahaha... i have yet to read midnight sun (twilight from edwards pov) but from what i hear... shes very... very indulgent to him...

So it's honestly very similar to the relationship between Carlisle and Esme, only gender-flipped.

this is wild i never thought about it that way but youre so right

(Is this a common take in the fandom? Because Rosalie and Carlisle seem like *very* similar people. They're the ones who seem to dislike their vampiric natures the most, they have a body count, they both were violated/murdered. They want children, and love that they can 'save' their innocent partner in a slightly parental-coded way. They're also the two platinum blondes. Is that why Carlisle turned her? Did she remind him of himself?)

hm well most of these similarities only arise after shes turned so i doubt he turned her because of that. it was probably just because he felt bad that she died so horribly. (and yes, i guess a little because he wanted to matchmake but i like to give him some leeway and assume it was just an offhand thought like "damn edward must be sick of thirdweeling me and esme maybe he'd also like someone to spend time with") also i think edward probably hates his vampiric nature the most out of anyone in the family lol hes always talking about how his soul is damned and hes a monster and he cAaNt SubJEcT BeLLA tO THis and the whole time shes like please turn me right now please please please 😭 carlisles probably made a bit of peace with it...

on body count: whether carlisle killed anybody as a human is up in the air, i think its only confirmed that he definitely killed less than his father, idk if it was zero. and yes rosalie did kill her rapists after turning, but funnily enough, of the whole coven they are the only two to have never eaten a human. everyone else has had slipups, and edward went on his little batman spree, but theyre the only two who have never drunk human blood (rosalies actually insane for that because she killed her rapists as a newborn who notoriously have much less self-control!!)

rosalie wanted children for sure but i dont think carlisle did. he just wanted companionship after being alone for years and it just Accidentally became a whole family lol. "saving their innocent partner in a slightly parental-coded way" is so 😭 i mean i guess that really did happen and dgmw that does sound interesting in a messy way but i feel like theyd be fairly normal about it

but he definitely attracted the interest of at least one coven of vampires, who were threatened enough by *something* that they weren't able to finish killing Carlisle. (like I doubt Carlisle was in the state to escape a vampire at the time...)

i think it was just one vampire! after carlisle took over the witchhunting job he (unlike his father) managed to find evidence of vampires in their area and so they went hunting. i think he was probably the first or one of the first to be attacked, so the vampire didnt have time to drain him because he got distracted/attacked by the rest of the hunting party. and then idk i assume the vampire got too full or just like. forgot about him lol.....

geez that was a lot of yapping. ive always loved the twilight like... worldbuilding... like wdym these vampires have psychic powers forget the romance i would like an adventure story??? not sorry to say the guide is my favourite because i got to read about all the other side characters' backstories and powers loool

the life & times of Carlisle Cullen

So how come I was not aware that the Cullens' backstory is like... INSANE? Sorry if this is all an extremely cold take buuut... I've been on a vampire movie kick lately, my sister and I just watched Twilight... and we had questions. I did a deep dive on the wiki, and like... is there some seminal fanfic I don't know that dives into this?

Because like. Okay.

Mid 1600s London. Carlisle is a son of a vampire hunter/witch hunter. Gets turned into a vampire, and runs away because he knows his father will kill him. The lore in the Twilight universe is that whatever your main *thing* was during your human life gets buffed into your extra vampire superpower... and in Carlisle's case, being a vampire hunter makes him resistant to the pull of human blood.

He falls in with the main vampire governing body in Italy, with what I have to assume is a very useful skillset, since their thing is hunting down rouge vampires. Also, having a vampire who is good enough around blood to be a doctor must be extremely useful when it comes to sourcing blood/victims. Carlisle hangs out with them for a good chunk of time, but at some point has a falling out - not sure exactly what the catalyst was there, but they *definitely* have history.

(Do people ship him with Aro, the touch-telepath vampire leader???)

So Carlisle goes to America, ends up in Ohio in 1911, where he meets the (teenage, human) Esme, fixing her leg after she falls out of a tree. Then in 1918 goes to Illinois, meets Edward (nee Masen) and his mother Elizabeth, both dying of Spanish flu.

Elizabeth 100% knows that Carlisle is a vampire. Which is wild. She also asks him to turn her son: "You must do everything in your power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward." So... does this mean she and Carlisle knew each other before he turned Edward? Is she a mind reader the way her son is, and just pulled the knowledge out of his head? Does Carlisle have a thing for telepaths????

(I have decided I do ship Carlisle/Aro. And possibly Carlisle/Elizabeth Masen. Will check AO3 after to see if this is a thing.)

So Carlisle, who is 270ish at this point, ends up with a 17 year old psychic Edward, in kind of Cosette situation. They travel around for two years before running back into Esme, now 26 and in the hospital after a failed suicide attempt. Rather than let her die, Carlisle turns her. I have to assume their relationship has... a lot going on, since Esme totally remembers the handsome young doctor she met when she was 16, and has a kind of fixation with him. Considering the suicide was the result of the death of a child and an abusive marriage... she almost certainly regards Carlisle as some kind of savior. *Edward* is her contemporary though, since he's only six years younger. And like, Edward was 17 when his mother died, he remembers her *just* fine, so it's not like Esme is ever going to be a mother replacement. Would love to know more about what their relationship is like. Honestly though, these kind of odd, ambiguous ties are what I want from my vampire media.

Carlisle, Edward, and Esme travel together for about twelve years. Then in Rochester New York in the early 1930s, Carlisle finds the 18 year old Rosalie, gang-raped by her fiancée and his friends, and left to die. Carlisle turns her, but Edward is unhappy with this decision, as he interprets it as Carlisle trying to match-make. (And like, read the room Carlisle, come on.)

Rosalie goes and revenge-kills everyone who raped her while wearing her wedding dress. Then she skips town with the Cullens.

Two years later she finds a young man in Tennessee who's just been mauled by a bear, and wants to turn him because he reminds her... of her old best friend's son. She carries him back to Carlisle, who seems to be (ironically) uniquely good at turning humans into vampires, because he won't accidentally drink too much blood and kill them. Carlisle turns Emmett (he is the sire of all the Cullens so far) but Emmett... seems to regard Rosalie in specific as his guardian angel. So it's honestly very similar to the relationship between Carlisle and Esme, only gender-flipped.

(Is this a common take in the fandom? Because Rosalie and Carlisle seem like *very* similar people. They're the ones who seem to dislike their vampiric natures the most, they have a body count, they both were violated/murdered. They want children, and love that they can 'save' their innocent partner in a slightly parental-coded way. They're also the two platinum blondes. Is that why Carlisle turned her? Did she remind him of himself?)

Anyway, two years later, Alice tracks down the Cullens with her psychic powers, Jasper in tow. Alice can see the future and Jasper can manipulate the emotions of the people in whatever room he's in. So they're both insanely powerful, and fleeing bad situations. Jasper is also considerably older than most of the coven. Edward, Esme, Alice, Rosalie and Emmet were all born within 15 years of each other, Jasper is fifty years older. He is of course still 200 years younger than Carlisle, and much worse at controlling his bloodlust, so Carlisle gets to remain the unquestioned leader.

And this is the situation that 17 year old Bella Swann walks into, wearing her long khaki skirt??

[ajdrawshq]

before starting yume nikki i found out that in stars and time has a demo n ive been seeing it around lately so might as well try it and. i might have fallen in love with it immediately. especially siffrin...... absolute top tier protagonist right here i just Know

[anam-mana]

It fascinates me that Alistair gets lumped in with the “Chantry Boys” in discussions about Dragon Age Archetypes because it’s just. Very untrue. But it’s an idea the text actually pushes you to connect with in a way I think is purposeful.

This guy introduces us to the lore of the Blight by asking if we want “the chantry version or the truth.” If we ask if they’re not the same thing he smirks and says with some attitude “they rarely are.”

He sums up his religious beliefs saying he’s “not especially” Andrastian, and that “believes in the Maker well enough.”

He’s actually LESS religious than Zevran, who describes himself as fully Andrastian with a regular prayer routine in optional conversation branches.

The things that people use to categorize Alistair’s supposed “Chantry Boy” boy status all have non-religious motivations.

For example, the big one, his virginity, is because 1. He’s nervous around women, which is the gender he finds most attractive 2. He’s actually the youngest Party Member, being freshly 20 years old. 3. And most importantly, he correlates sex with love and was brought up to see them as requiring the other and so feels uncomfortable having sex without what he sees as “true love.” And he just hasn’t been in love yet.

Another example would be his reaction to the Urn of Sacred Ashes. He reacts with wonder akin to Leliana where many others react with a contrasting blasee attitude. Even the Andrastian Zevran.

But you gotta read between the lines here. Zevran doesn’t hold remains as sacred. He’s an assassin. So his prophet’s body is in that urn. It’s a body. The least remarkable and most mundane, perhaps even the hardest to swallow, thing she could ever be to Zevran is a corpse. Kinda takes the wonder out of faith for an assassin if she dies and rests just like any one else.

But Alistair is fascinated, in awe. 1, probably because the Chantry he doubts so much now has some kinda proof that something they said was true, unlike what he previously believed. 2, Alistair is WAY more patriotic than he is religious and we gotta remember that the Fereldans pride themselves on Alamari heritage, and Andraste was probably the most powerful and influential Alamari person to ever live. 3, he’s actually a giant history buff. He info dumps history on you often, with the memorized readings of whatever question you ask. If asked about the King and Loghain before the betrayal at Ostagar, he shows respect for Loghain’s service in the War for Independance, and knowledge of his tactics. And when speaking about his time in training with the chantry as a child, he says the education was actually what he liked most. And a lot of his gifts are things like replica soldiers, Fereldan historical things, maps, (along with his interest in magical artifacts but that’s for another day.) etc. Given his patriotism and love of learning history, yeah, the Urn is a big deal to him.

I have more things I could say, but really, I just find Alistair to be one of the most misrepresented by fandom characters. His character has a TON of subtext that challenges you to look beyond what others represent him as and the low opinion he holds of himself.

The perception of him as Andrastian and devout is one pushed on him by people like Morrigan (and others to some degree) who fights Alistair more like a straw man representing society than she engages with him as himself. She sees him as a Templar even though he left the order specifically because they abused him And he fundamentally disagreed with their practices, The Harrowing specifically being what pushed him to fight to leave.

There are, textually, two ways to interpret Alistair. Through face value aesthetics and symbolism pointing to association with the Chantry and by observing other’s opinion of him. Or through actually listening to what he says and watching what he does.

And it’s just interesting to me that a lot of people get caught in the trap of what he represents aesthetically rather than who he is.

[tarotsoul]

ghost in the wind — part one

summary: all your life, your presence had been nothing more than a faint kiss of a breeze—nothing impactful, nothing worth noticing. so why did it hurt so much when that remained the case after moving to prythian?

warnings: a bit of angst, feelings of self-hatred and worthlessness, brief mentions of sexual assault

word count: 3.8k

series masterlist

“No.”

There was no room for argument in Nesta’s tone, no room for anything other than agreement or else she’d reign the Hells on all of them. Her mate be damned, she would not leave the mortal lands without you. Not again.

“If we take her,” Cassian gritted his teeth, “I am inviting her husband to wage war on our kind if he so chooses.”

Nesta bared her teeth. “Rafe is nothing but a coward and a sorry excuse of a man. What kind of war could he wage? If she stays, then so do I.”

Cassian blanched at his mate, his teeth grinding. They were only supposed to have stopped through for no more than a week, to ensure things in the mortal lands were restoring to somewhat of the normalcy they once had before the war.

He blinked at Nesta, noting the way she bore her feet into the solid ground, as if planting herself there like a tree weaving its roots into the soil. He knew the love she had for her cousin, her only friend, as she’d once told him. The guilt she’d felt when she first left the village, left you, hadn’t eased in the slightest.

Perhaps this was the reason she insisted on joining Cassian on this third-grade mission. He cast a quick glance over her shoulder to the small stone house you were occupying, and closed his eyes to ground his breathing.

“We can’t just bring her back without consulting Rhys first.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Screw Rhys. I’ll deal with him myself if I have to. She is my family, Cassian. My friend. Every night, he beats her and abuses her and takes from her what she will not willingly give. She is coming back with us.”

Cassian took another grounding breath, the iron will in Nesta’s eyes granting not even a fraction of negotiation. There was too much going on right now, too much to sift through to rebuild their city and legions.

But Nesta was right, and despite not knowing you, he couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving a vulnerable soul with a monster who took and abused like Rafe did. Especially not when he saw the pain on his mate's eyes for her cousin.

“Ten minutes. Tell her to pack necessities only. We will need to leave within the hour if we wish to be gone before her husband returns.”

Nesta didn’t cast him a second glance as she turned and sprinted into your home. You scrambled back from the window, heat painting your cheeks that you’d been caught watching them, straining your ears for a sliver of their conversation, to no avail.

She said nothing of your snooping, only grabbed your hand and dragged you to your sleeping chambers. “Pack only what you need. You’re coming back with us.”

You blinked, lungs seizing the air you tried to breathe. Leaving? For the Fae lands?

“Ness,” you tried, but she held up a slender hand to cut you off.

“Don’t. I made the mistake of leaving you behind before. I won’t do it again.” She couldn’t look at you. Not at the bruises marring your skin, or the split lip you’d earned yourself two nights ago for leaving an unwashed pot in the sink.

So you didn’t think twice about the consequences of being caught fleeing. You didn’t think twice at all as you stuffed minimal clothing into a satchel along with a photo of your beloved mother and the worn journal you kept hidden beneath the mattress.

Nesta allowed you a moment to compose yourself as she returned to her mate just outside your home. Home. As if you could ever have truly referred to it as that. This was not a home. You hadn’t had a home since your mother passed ten years ago. Since you married Rafe and your whole world fell apart.

You had prayed. Prayed to whatever out there that would listen. Hoped and hoped that one day your salvation would arrive, that you’d be finally spared from the misery you’d been subjected to for so long. From the pain and terror and loneliness.

You hadn’t realised you were absentmindedly twisting the iron band on your ring finger until the small stone in the centre scratched at your skin. That Gods damned ring that bound you to the monster you called your husband. That iron cage that kept you as his possession instead of his love.

Yet the fear… the fear at the idea of removing it sat far too heavy in your chest. The fear of him finding you, punishing you. But he wouldn’t find you, you knew that. Rafe would never dream of crossing that veil into the Fae lands. And even if he did, you were sure he’d be eaten alive within the first breath he took in that world.

When you met Nesta and Cassian outside, they both had a satchel of their own on their shoulders; stuffed to the brim of bread and cheese and skins of water they’d raided from the kitchen.

The General nodded at you once as you approached. You wondered if you’d done anything to offend him, or perhaps he found this—you—to be an unnecessary burden to him and his day.

“Thank you,” you managed to utter, and both he and Nesta felt the pure relief and gratitude in your voice.

Cassian’s resolve softened, a sympathetic gleam in his eye and he hated himself for a moment for even considering leaving you here alone.

“It’ll take us half a day to reach the wall,” Nesta began, unmoving from Cassian’s side. “When we pass, Azriel will meet us at the border in Spring. Cassian cannot fly the both of us.”

You couldn’t help the apology that slithered up your throat. “I don’t mean to be a burden—“

But it was Cassian who growled in response, “You are not. You are family, and we don’t leave family behind.”

You walked for hours, legs sore and tired and throbbing from the stamina you lacked. But you didn’t want to stop, to ask for a break. They were kind enough to have brought you, you needn’t add any more time onto their already long journey.

So you kept your mouth shut and willed your legs to move, one in front of the other. Hours passed and you could feel that familiar panic rise in your stomach. Nightfall was approaching, which meant Rafe would surely be home by now…

You didn’t want to allow yourself to think of that. Of what he was doing after finding the home empty with nothing but your wedding band on the dresser, the only proof you ever even existed in that house.

It was Cassian who made the call to stop for a break, as though only now remembering how weak a mortal body was compared to a Fae’s—or in his case, an Illyrian.

Nesta had told you many things about her family in Prythian; the members of the Inner Circle, the beautiful city of Velaris and all the wonders it had to offer. Despite the relief you felt for leaving, the anxiety of entering the Fae lands was unmatched to anything you’d felt before.

You rested for only thirty minutes, the three of you eating your way through an entire satchel of food and two skins of water. Perhaps Nesta and Cassian were as tired as you were, though you figured not.

And by the time you reached the wall, night had surrounded you in complete darkness, nothing but a ripple in the air to suggest you had met the end of your homelands.

It was opaque for the most part, but the air seemed to glimmer and fold, as if you were looking magic dead in its face. You allowed your fingers to reach shakily for it, a fearful thought stopping you from making contact.

You turned to your cousin. “Will it hurt?”

She took your hand. “No, though when we pass through you’ll need to stay as close to Cassian and I as possible. Your scent—it’ll be a beacon to all sorts of creatures that roam freely within the Spring.”

Nesta shrugged off her jacket and handed it to you. “It’ll somewhat mask your scent. Just long enough until we meet with Azriel.”

You shoved your arms in the jacket as you put it on over your own and took Nesta’s hand again. Her eyes met yours, something akin to relief and sorrow flickering in her gaze. You didn’t want her pity. And it cleaved your heart into two knowing that you could never do anything to repay her for this, to express just how far your gratitude stretched.

Cassian and Nesta took three steps forward and as you followed, the air rippled around you…you breathed in the new life and second chance you’d been given.

But nothing could have prepared you for what awaited on the other side of the veil.

The first and only thing you saw were a set of sharp, gleaming white teeth before you were shoved to the ground with a hard thud, your head hitting against soft grass with a thump.

Snarls and grunts and shrieks surrounded you, and in the time it took to regain your bearings, Cassian and Nesta were sheathing their daggers once more as the…thing that had attacked lay dead on a field of daisies.

With eerie calmness, you assessed the creature. It was huge, twice the size of Cassian and about four times the size of you. Dark black fur covered its body and ruby red eyes that lifelessly stared into your very soul.

For some strange, obscene reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Not as you breathed in the fresh soil beneath your feet. It felt as though your world had been turned on his axis, as if only now could you see clearly.

Then you heard it, a distant swooshing in the wind. You angled your neck toward the noise, eyes not needing to squint in the darkness as the stars illuminated the sky so beautifully.

Your brows furrowed, but you did not look away. “Something is coming.”

Both Nesta and Cassian followed your gaze then, stepping closer to your still body. The figure came closer, your initial thoughts of it being a large bird being dismissed as a pair of wings much like Cassian’s, only larger, flipped through the midnight air.

You smelt him before catching his face. Pine and wood and parchment. Mint. There was a hint of mint and something sweet like cinnamon as the glorious Illyrian landed swiftly onto the grass.

Azriel.

You remembered him, the Shadowsinger. Silver streaks of the moon casted across his brown skin as he approached swiftly, those dark and languid shadows moving across his form and snaking the earth until they halted at your feet—assessing.

“So glad you finally joined the party.” Cassian said in greeting, though Azriel paid no mind to the tone his brother offered.

Those shadows wrapped around your ankles softly, slinking your skin as they felt you out. You felt something then, a tug in the air that seemed to pull the shadows back to Azriel’s towering form.

That was when you looked at him, breath stolen from your lungs. He was beautiful. A warrior, that you could tell. Solid muscle covered every inch of him, dark black hair that sat messily on his head and swept down his forehead and brows. Hazel eyes met yours, his lips parting—no doubt at the state of your bruised face.

He was beautiful when you’d seen him previously on his brief visit to speak with Lucien… but now, it was as though you were seeing him truly–with so much clarity in your gaze it almost blinded you. Everything about this land did. 

“There are more coming, so unless you want a fight, I suggest we leave.”

His tone held no room for argument, yet he spoke in an unrushed drawl, as if these creatures were the least of his concern. He was as large as Cassian, daggers strapped to his leathers, so you supposed they likely posed little to no threat to him and his skills.

“Can you winnow?” Nesta asked.

It wasn’t lost on you how overlooked you were, despite being the reason for his presence. But like most of your life, it came as no surprise to be somewhat invisible. Cast aside. Unnoticed.

Azriel shook his head. “We’ll need to fly to the border between Autumn and Winter, from there I can winnow us back to Velaris.”

Cassian nodded, reaching for Nesta. “We’ll go first, make sure the area is safe. Follow us in five minutes.”

Nesta looked at you, a silent conversation between you both.

You’ll be okay?

I’ll be fine. If you trust Azriel then so do I.

No other words were exchanged when Cassian hauled Nesta into his arms, spread his magnificent wings and shot to the skies. You watched until they were a mere dot beside the stars before returning your attention to the Shadowsinger who was already offering you his.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” He said politely.

You wondered if he’d remembered your name from your first and last encounter almost a year ago, or if when Cassian sent word for aid he’d reminded him of it.

Either way, you offered a timid smile. “You too, Azriel. I apologise for troubling you with this. All of you.”

He shook your apology off. “It’s no bother. Are you hurt anywhere?”

You knew he wasn’t referring to bruises and cuts you already adorned. It seemed as though stepping through that veil gave you more clarity, more understanding of silent thoughts and everything else around you.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Good.” He nodded, and those shadows threatened to reach for your ankles again.

Azriel didn’t pull them back this time, only took a tentative step closer. “I apologise, they’re no threat. Not to you.”

You nodded, gaze upon them as they slinked further up your body and wrapped softly around your arms. Azriel almost bristled at the way you remained so calm. He wondered how much about him and his family you knew. He supposed Nesta had told you much through letters and such.

You didn’t reply, couldn’t bring yourself. You knew how deadly the Inner Circle could be to their enemies. And yet these shadows touched you with more softness than your husband ever did. You didn’t let that thought show on your face.

“Everything feels different on this side of the wall,” you admitted, a little breathless.

Azriel remained looking at you. “Everything feels…clearer.”

You waved the shadows off your body gently, silently shooing them back to their master.

“I’ll need to fly you like Cassian did to Nesta,” he began. “Are you afraid of heights?”

You didn’t know the answer to that. But the thought of being held by him the same way Nesta was by Cassian… that thought scared you. And not because it was Azriel, but because of the sheer closeness and intimacy that was needed for it.

You swallowed it down. “No… I don’t think so.”

He nodded, taking another step closer with an outstretched hand. “You can close your eyes if you wish, and I’ll fly slowly, I swear.”

You heard it then, the pattering of paws on the grass, of claws digging into the soil and snarls of breath into the night. You looked to Azriel, eyes a little wilder than before. He nodded, as if he already knew what you were about to say.

He held out his hand further for you to take, and you took a hold of his marred skin, calloused under your softer palm but you didn’t balk, didn’t pull away as you got a clearer view of the scars that adorned him.

Azriel hoisted you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. “The take off will be harsh, make sure you hold on tight to me.”

And he wasn’t lying. Azriel bent his knees and shoved his full weight into the earth before you both shot into the starlit skies. You didn’t close your eyes, you wanted to see everything this world had to offer. A world that was always at your fingertips but never accessible until now.

The wind seemed to whisper to you, gently caressing your bruised skin and promising a better life. A new life. As though the elements welcomed you home. 

It was only moments of uphill force until Azriel evened out and began a steady speed through the clouds. His scent enveloped you, almost overbearing as it encompassed all of your senses.

You worried for a moment then. If his scent surrounded you this way, you wondered how badly yours did to him with such heightened senses. You tried to hold your breath for longer than usual, tried to steady your heartbeat, afraid he’d hear it.

“Are you okay?” He murmured against the shell of your ear. Because even though you tried to mask it, he could sense your every feeling, your every tremor and sigh and sob.

Tears streamed down your face as he flew you both north toward the border between Autumn and Winter.

“Thank you, Azriel.” And you thanked him and thanked him and thanked him. Until your voice grew hoarse from the sobs and you let yourself realise that you were finally free.

Finally safe. 

In the transitioning week of being escorted to the Night Court, you had hardly spoken to a soul. For the first two days, you appreciated the silence, the safety–basked in it, even. Nesta had shown you to your room in the House of Wind, an incredible home built into the walls of a large mountain that overlooked the city of Velaris. 

“Should you need anything,” Nesta had said softly, “ask the House, it listens.” 

And she had been right. The first night, you thought of a hot bubble bath and a gentle breeze had sifted through your sheer curtains, guiding you to your personal bathing chambers where a hot bath had been drawn, scents of calming lavender and jasmine coating you. 

You only saw Nesta twice after that, once when she brought you some of her favourite romance books and again, two days later when she told you Feyre and Elain sent their love and well wishes. 

She’d had the family's healer, Majda, check you over for any untreated injuries, and when she came up short she offered you a few tonics for the discomfort and encouraged you to rest before sending you back on your way.

You shouldn’t have expected more, shouldn’t have longed for more. You supposed Nesta had done her part enough–saving you from Rafe and bringing you here. And yet, despite the House tending to your needs and the souls of the romance novels…you felt just as alone as you had in the mortal lands. 

You hadn’t seen Azriel since either, nor Cassian. You didn’t have much right to ask after them, to thank them again. They had their own lives and roles to fill, you knew your rescue had been nothing more than another third-grade mission to them. 

By the fifth day, the realisation had begun to sink in. That you’d been moved from one lonely home into another. Perhaps that was the course your life was fated to take–alone, unnoticed, nothing more than a ghost in the wind, nothing worth acknowledging. 

You wrote your thoughts into your leather-bound journal, the only form of release you had for these dark emotions. Yet every time the pen lifted from the parchment, you felt heavier than you had before. 

You were yet to leave your bedroom, often sitting at the window seat that overlooked the lights of the city, wondering what life awaited down there. Wondered if you’d ever get the opportunity to explore it. Nesta had mentioned that the House was warded from winnowing, the only way out was to fly or descend the ten thousand stairs. 

But you couldn’t fly, and you wouldn’t make the steps down either. You weren’t a prisoner, you knew that. But Nesta had done her part, saving you, bringing you to her and Cassian’s home. You were not her responsibility, not anyones. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel trapped, restricted. Moved from one stone building and into another. Perhaps that was what finally made you venture out of your room, barefeet padding across the cool floors.

You followed the winding staircase to a lower level, noting the ornate furniture that decorated the large space. A crackling hearth caught your attention, so inviting and warm in front of a plush couch. The House seemed to beckon you to it, a gentle breeze against the backs of your bare legs and it made your short nightgown sway. 

Following it, you sat on the couch and a thick blanket materialised and draped itself over your legs at the same time a steaming mug of tea and a new romance novel appeared on the table beside you. 

You smiled softly, warmth spreading in your chest as you thanked the House. 

An hour or so had passed, not that you were for certain, but the House remained silent. Nothing but sips of your tea and flipping of pages could be heard along with the crackling of the hearth. 

For a moment, you felt at peace in your own company. Completely content for this time to sit and read and know you wouldn’t receive a beating or worse for it. You stretched out your back, stifling a yawn as a pair of soft footsteps greeted your ears. 

Your eyes widened, an unnecessary apology already on the tip of your tongue, though for what you weren’t sure. That had become the norm for you, apologising for your every breath. 

But it was not Rafe that stepped out of the shadows, of course not. It was Azriel, in all his glory, wings tucked neatly behind his back and you counted the seven blue siphons that adorned his leathers. 

“Azriel,” you breathed, a sheepish smile on your face. 

Finally, some company. Someone to acknowledge your presence and to perhaps converse with. You shuffled on the couch, making to put your book down but all Azriel did was give you a terse nod in greeting and a thin smile before walking down the hall and out of your sight. 

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. You should be used to this by now. You were used to it. But you couldn’t control that tiny thread of hope in your chest that things could be different. That you could be accepted and wanted and noticed. 

For the eighth night in a row, you were left in the dark with nothing but the crippling loneliness and aching of your soul to keep you company. 

a/n: thank you for reading!! this is the first instalment of this mini-series that i literally got the idea for two days ago lol. it'll be around 5/6 parts, smut will come and a few twists you won't expect!! unfortunately i'm unable to get my old page back (rhysazriel), which means most of my previous writings have been lost but i'll likely repost the ones i have saved in my google docs in the late future (plug!az being one of them)

if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated!! <3

[hyeinette]

⟡ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒆𝒔─────𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈, 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅.

f!r ⠀ 🦢⠀ 𝑓. est rl fluff kisses skinship ot7 drabble ─── 145O >ᴗ< 𓈒 𓈒 魂

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝑙𝑖𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑦⠀⠀⠀୨୧ ⠀⠀⠀𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀⠀〝⠀ 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆. heeseung is rather strict about his phone, and if anyone else asked to use it, he’d hesitate, always peeking over their shoulder to make sure they didn’t see what they weren’t supposed to. but with you? he’s entirely different. the second you glance at his phone, it’s already yours. whether it be to google something stupid or just go through his camera roll, he wouldn’t mind. if you take a few silly photos of yourself—your tongue sticking out or your nose scrunched—he’d smile earnestly upon discovering them, staring at the pictures of you like you’re the prettiest, most dear thing ever (to him, you are). the only thing he doesn’t want you to stumble upon is the secret photo album that he’s made just for you; he goes through it when he’s especially missing you, but that’s far too embarrassing for you to find out. if you ever ask why he doesn’t care when you take his phone, he’d simply shrug, pretending to be casual, but the grin on his face gives him away. “because it’s you. and i trust you.”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆. jay likes to keep his personal space, and he always makes sure anyone around him is at a reasonable distance. he’s different with you, though, making an exception just because of how tender your touch is. sometimes, when the two of you are sitting next to each other and you’re feeling weirdly shy (despite the fact that you’re literally dating him), jay would notice. it’s in the way you contemplatively glance at his hand, debating whether to reach for it or not. he’d smile before deciding not to let you think any harder, grabbing your hand and holding it in his—tight enough to express his love, but not to the point where he’s hurting you. he’d shift closer, so close that there’s no space between the two of you, before tilting your head into the warmth of his neck while his thumb drew slow, soothing patterns up and down your arm. there’s no real explanation for you to be this close to jay—he just wants you to be. as uncharacteristic as it might be for him to crave proximity; he craves it with you, because it just feels so right. if anybody thought to tease him or you about it, he’d scowl, shooing them away, for all he wanted was a moment more with you and just you.

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍. it’s not like jake lets you tickle him. he hates being tickled by anyone, let alone his girlfriend! too bad for him, ever since you learned of how ticklish he was, you’ve been absolutely abusing the fact: tickling him when you wanted something, when he said no to you… the likes. it’s just that everytime your hands reached for his ribs, he didn’t pull away, even though he very well could, being stronger than you and all. perhaps it was the way your eyes glimmered, reflecting the mischievousness in your head that completely stilled jake’s brain, rendering him defenseless. the giggles that left his mouth against his will made you laugh, as well. “no—stop! seriously!” he protests, but his hands lay at his sides, not even trying to push you off, an observation that made you grin. after a few more seconds of your hands on his torso and his laughter in the air, you finally decided to pull your hands away. as soon as you did, jake’s fingers wrapped around your wrists, pressing you against his undulating chest. you barely had time to process this, because before you knew it, his hands loosened on your wrist, moving to gently hold your face, and then his smiling lips were on yours: soft, yet playful still. when he pulled back and saw your half-closed eyes, he grinned even wider. “now you’re the speechless one,” he teased. “shut up! you giggle like a girl…”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍. “you know,” sunghoon’s accusatory voice cuts through your focus, making you freeze. you slowly turn to him with guilt written all over your face, caught in the act of rummaging through his color-coordinated closet, looking for yet another piece of clothing to ‘borrow.’ “you’re lucky i like you enough to let you take my clothes,” he says, a small smirk playing on his lips. “i’m not taking your clothes!” you lied, unconvincingly so. sunghoon just laughed and walked closer to you. he picked up a soft, gray hoodie—the one he knew was your favorite—and held it up to your torso. the familiar scent of sandalwood and roses greeted your nostrils as he hummed in consideration. “i don’t mind, though.” sunghoon’s tone was softer now. “you look cute in them. just you.” and it was true. sunghoon barely lets even his closest friends borrow his clothes—his wardrobe is far too expensive, and he doesn’t trust anyone to treat it right. but there’s something so cute about the way you look in his hoodies, the ones that you drown in, that fall all the way down to your thighs and hang over your hands; he can’t help but lend you any piece of his that you want. even if you do stain his clothes, he wouldn’t mind, not really. he would just laugh softly and kiss away your worried apologies while whispering that he could always buy another one. seeing you in his hoodies is worth any stain or wrinkle.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎. whenever anyone else so much as tries to grab a bite from his plate, sunoo slaps their hand away—“you have your own plate!” he’d say, even if they didn’t, as he shielded his plate. but you’re not anyone else, for the second his gaze caught yours lingering on his food, he’d smile, ready to give you anything you want off his plate and then some. “hungry?” sunoo tilts his head, your sheepish eyes giving him the answer he already knows. “here.” sunoo holds up a forkful of his mango fruit to your mouth. your eyes spoke depths of gratitude, and starvation. however, just as you leaned in, he laughed, pulling it away from you. “you have to say please, first.” your jaw dropped slightly in disbelief, but sunoo just shrugged, “it is my food, after all.” after a few seconds of silent expectancy, your expression shifted into one of desperation. “sunoo!” you whined, your tone drenched in plea and reprimand. his laughter softened, and he finally relented, letting you eat the fruit. the vague tang of the mango made you smile, and any irritation you held suddenly dissolved. “be glad i tolerate you,” you huff, plucking another slice off his plate while sunoo watched, his heart brimming with warmth. between all the mangos and the little jokes, sunoo decided that you were the sweetest thing of all.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍. jungwon is, without a doubt, one of the busiest people you know! he has places to be and things to do; if he’s having a particularly busy day, his first priority would be to finish any and all tasks he has, and if anyone else asks him to take a break and spend time with them, his answer would be an immediate but gentle ‘no.’ but, you on the other hand; nothing comes before you when you need him. he would give up anything to spend time with you, no matter when you asked. “jungwon, can we hang out? i’m bored,” you’d suggest, and without hesitation, he’d drop whatever he was doing to go see you. “won, 5 more minutes, stay.” you’d whine during the lazy mornings, pulling him back under the covers so you could once again be wrapped in the cozy, warm haven of his arms. it doesn’t matter if he has an important event or a choreo practice to attend—as soon as he sees you with that adorable bed-head and those big, sleep-dazed eyes that always managed to get their way, he’d be all yours once again (when was he not?), kissing you gently until you were lulled back to sleep in his grasp.

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈. riki hates being styled by anyone but himself. every outfit he wears is handpicked and carefully arranged to fit him best, down to even his socks! if anybody else even tried giving him suggestions on what to wear, he’d furrow his brows, and their words would go through one ear and out the other. however, with you, he’s different. as you go through his closet, inspecting his clothes, he’d watch you, absorbing everything you said, even if you didn’t know the first thing about fashion. “you should wear this…” you plucked out a dark hoodie, “and this!” you held up a pair of ripped, mud-dyed jeans proudly. and that’s exactly what he wore the next day. he’d saunter around in the outfit you chose and if anyone asks him about it, he’d proudly state “my girlfriend chose this for me. yeah, my girlfriend.” and if you went one step further and styled his hair for him, carefully tousling it with your hands, he’d lean into your touch with content, and for the rest of the day he’d make sure every strand of hair on his head stayed exactly as you placed it. your advice and input meant more than anything to him, of course.

𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝓈𝗍. @bywons

[seresinhangmanjake]

About Time

Tyler Owens x Childhood Friend!Reader

Summary: You’ve been Tyler’s best friend since childhood, but a near-death experience makes him realize he feels much more for you than friendship and he shouldn’t have allowed himself to deny it for so long. 

Warnings/Notes: cursing, mild angst, mostly fluff, typos

Words: 2300

Masterlist

It was when he almost lost you that Tyler knew he was in love with you. When he was forced to play tug of war with the violent winds to keep you in his arms. When he felt your chest move against his with your shallow, rapid breaths. When he heard his name, a soft whimper from quivering lips. 

“T–Tyler…”

He tightened his grasp on your waist and mumbled, “I got you, darlin’. Just don't let go.”

At that moment, he didn't know if he could protect you, but the alternative was an unbearable thought. Living without you was unimaginable, unacceptable, so if the winds planned to take you, they would have no choice but to take him, too. Then at least you'd be going together. 

He’d always felt something for you, and he understood that he probably always would, but he'd been unwilling to give it a name more intense than a teenage crush that just happened to last well past its expiration date. And while your perpetually growing beauty and intoxicating laugh made it hard for him to tame what he continued to feel, he’d managed. 

But that fear of imminent death—more potent than ever—tapped into the depths of those feelings he’d been swallowing for more than a decade. The abuse of pelting rain and flying debris paled in comparison to the overwhelming storm breaking free from the neglected portion of his heart. 

Once disaster moved along, you looked up at him with wide, weary eyes, and he couldn’t think clearly past the repetitive chanting in his head: ‘I love you, I love you, I love you’. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins, overpowering every other sense of logic and reason. He pushed strands of damp hair from your face, cupped your cheeks, then leaned down and sealed his lips to yours in a deep kiss. The first kiss. A kiss that typically has a much better outcome than what followed.

He hasn't seen you since that day. A week has come and gone and not one glimpse of your face, and now he’s more desperate for the sight than he’s ever been before. Missing you when you’re not around is far from new, but having released his feelings, the all-consuming sensation is worse. It’s harder to tolerate.

You're avoiding him, he knows it, but he supposes that can happen when someone kisses their best friend with no prior discussion of deeper feelings. It's not what he would do were the situation reversed—he'd still be all over you, kissing you back, smiling, never letting you go—but you've chosen to handle things quite differently, and in doing so, has left him no choice but to respond accordingly.

—

“Mornin’,” you hear, nearly dropping the pail of milk you’d been collecting all morning. Eyes darting to your right, you find Tyler sitting in one of the living room's quilted armchairs. Your heartbeat stutters. 

When you turn your head to the left, your mother is leaning against the kitchen countertop, her fluffy robe tied around her body and a cup of steaming coffee in her hands that she brings to her lips as she reads the newspaper splayed out beside her. 

“Mom, what is Tyler doing here?”

She glances up, swallows, and swipes her tongue across her bottom lip to catch the remnants of caramel-colored liquid. “Oh gosh, dear, he must've snuck in,” she replies, feigning ignorance. “But I’m not one for kickin’ anyone—especially not a fine, young man—off my property, so I guess he’ll just have to stay.”

With a huff, you set the pail down on the breakfast table, knowing your mother will take care of it, and shoot her a glare before making your way to the living room. Tyler stares up at you. You cross your arms and nudge your head toward the storage barn just behind the house where the two of you used to hold your late-night meetings when you were children, and later, teenagers. Many nights you spent in that barn after Tyler had snuck out of his parent’s house and chucked a pebble at your window to wake you. 

Tyler nods and follows you out the back door to the large structure that protects your privacy from the prying ears of the woman inside the house. 

“We gotta get you a new phone, darlin’,” Tyler says to your back once you're enclosed in the barn. “The one you've got doesn't seem to be receiving my calls…or texts…or elaborate voicemails.”

“Tyler…” you sigh, twisting to face him.

“You know we gotta talk about it,” he says. And he’s right, despite how the complicated element introduced into your relationship is entirely his fault and so you shouldn’t have to owe him the time of day until you're ready to give it. “You didn’t have to run away from me.”

“I didn’t run.” Tyler’s eyes follow the movement of your arms wrapping tighter around yourself and he swallows hard. “I walked.”

“Speed-walked,” he counters. “Borderline jogged.”

You groan, your tense shoulders sagging. “Tyler listen, I just–”

“Do you really think disappearing on me was a fair thing to do?” he interrupts. “I’m your best friend.”

Your jaw drops at the audacity. Not surprising, really; Tyler’s always had a way of wording things that gets under people’s skin, but out of the two of you, he is the last person who should be doling out the criticism. 

“Fair?” you huff. “You’re the one who–”

“I mean, what was so wrong with it?” Long fingers slide through his blond hair. “Can you honestly say you’ve never thought about me in that way? It hasn’t crossed your mind once? No sex dreams? Nothin’? ‘Cause I’ve been wrestlin’ with it since fuckin’ high school, but ok, sure, fine.”

“Ty–”

“And I know it was unexpected but was it really that shocking? Don’t you think we’d be good together? I think we’d–”

“For fuck’s sake, Tyler, will you let me talk!” you snap, your voice carrying throughout the barn.

If you were trying to preserve your privacy, you’ve definitely failed now. Half of town probably heard you and they’re nothing short of a mile away, but at this point, Tyler has pushed you well past caring. Let them hear. Let them know what’s going on between you. They all saw him kiss you anyway.

“We nearly died,” you continue. “People around us did die.”

Tyler’s face breaks down and you instantly regret your words. You know he stuck around after you left. You know he helped everyone he could in the aftermath of disaster while you let your emotions override your system and ran home to cry to your mother over how he just rocked what was your very steady relationship.

“Look,” you sigh. “Even if I wasn’t thinking about death—and that is a massive ‘if’—I told myself a long time ago that you are my friend, just my friend.”

Tyler’s hands settle on his hips. His eyes fall to the floor and his back teeth clench. “Why?”

“Because I repeated it so many times in my head that it solidified,” you tell him, throwing your arms up. “You know why Bradley dumped me last year? And Pete a couple years before that? And Bobby back in high school?” you ask. “Because of you. They all sensed this weird…energy…from you. All of them. Do you know how many times I had to tell them they were crazy? Do you know how many times I had to tell myself that I was crazy whenever they brought it up to me and I actually considered the possibility of you feeling that way?” 

You know exactly how many. Bobby had mentioned it five times before he decided he was done; broke it off with you right before prom and scoffed when he saw that Tyler had stepped up as your date. Pete was shorter-lived; asked you about Tyler three times before he said he could see which way the wind was blowing and had no interest in getting in between anything. And Bradley held the record at seven, each time making the fight outdo the one prior before he was simply fed up with the friendship you refused to sacrifice. Three boyfriends have ditched you solely because of Tyler, and fifteen times you had to talk yourself down from the jolt of excitement you got from imagining him loving you.    

Taking a deep breath, you say, “You don’t just get to kiss me and not let me sort out my thoughts for five damn seconds.”

Tyler’s head snaps up, jaw ticking and eyes blazing. “Five seconds?” he spits. “I haven’t seen you in a week. That’s the longest we’ve gone since I graduated.”

��This isn’t just about you; how you feel; what you think; what you want.”

“Then what are you tellin’ me?” Tyler asks.

The light quiver in his voice unnerves you. Not because you aren’t used to him expressing himself to the fullest—and if he’s ever going to be vulnerable with anyone, it’s with you—but that quiver is typically the trigger for you comforting him, taking him into your arms and holding him, letting him wrap himself around you until he feels better and is ready to stop. For some reason, you never noticed how long he would stay tied to you when you gave him the chance. 

“Are you feelin’ like this is it?” he continues. “Are you wantin’ us to be done?”

And suddenly, you’re irritated again. You can’t stop the roll of your eyes. In no universe would you ever be done with Tyler Owens, and the fact that he would entertain otherwise is asinine. “Don't be dramatic.”

“Well, what do you expect!” he shouts. “You’re actin’ like I’m about to lose you!”

“I didn’t say anything like that!”

“But you're mad that I kissed you!”

“Damn it, Tyler! I am not!”       

Green eyes widen, his breaths heavy from his heaving chest. His mouth opens then closes then opens once more. “You’re—” He licks his lips as you watch him grasp for words. “Then why haven't you called me back?”

You shrug. “I don't know. We've never fought before, and I thought you'd be pissed that I walked off, which clearly you are, so…”

“That’s not true,” he says, moving to take a step closer to you before thinking better of it and staying put. “I haven’t been pissed, darlin’, just terrified. And missing you. And…wanting you.” Heat flares your cheeks, forcing you to tear your eyes away from the desperation in his. “But I’m sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to…I mean, you left and I thought…”

You shake your head. Whatever he let himself think, he was wrong.

The silence that settles over you is thicker than you're used to in his presence. You're used to laughter and jokes, sweet comments and banter. Tension zings in the space between your bodies, but it's pleasant, electrifying, invigorating. You feel the full impact of everything that was tucked underneath the stress and anxiety of barrelling through such a hard conversation. 

Tyler feels it too. His face shows it. His eyes you can only describe as heatedly glittering as he stares at you staring at him. His brows are pinched from frustration of a different kind. It's his lips, though, that reveal his thoughts better than any other feature. They're softly parted, glistening from a swipe of his tongue like he's ready to lock them to yours at any second. Like he needs to be ready just in case you give him the go-ahead so he can kiss you before you dare rescind your permission. 

“What are you thinking?” you ask, words quieter than you meant for them to be, but Tyler hears you.  

His chuckle is short, half-formed, partially overtaken by the exhale of a breath. You detect a slight tease, as if you should already know the answer to that question. 

“That I wanna kiss you again,” he says. “So fuckin’ bad.”

The corners of your mouth struggle not to quirk upward. “Tyler.” He hums. “You know what it means if we do this, right?”

He nods. “We can’t go back,” he says. “But darlin’, I don’t wanna go back. I wanna keep on goin’...with you.”

“Everything will be different.”

“Not everything. We're still us, we'd just be kissin’ and touchin’ and, you know, doin’ other stuff,” he replies with a smile. “Hopefully.”

You picture Tyler standing before you as you have secretly wished you could have him for years—bare and muscled and grinning and telling you he loves you—and for the first time, you aren’t awash with guilt and shame. It feels right to think of him like this. Natural. There’s a soothing ocean of serenity flowing under the flames of desire, and it hits you that this was probably inevitable. All the pieces were there—friendship, trust, love—all there was left to do was act on it. 

“You won't change your mind?” you ask, stepping to him. 

At your question, distress takes over Tyler's face, but it melts into a grin once he notices your smirk. He closes the remaining distance between you and takes your hand, carefully interlocking your fingers. 

“No chance,” he tells you. 

“Ok,” you say, nodding. “Well, if you’re absolutely sure, then I guess it’s ok if you kiss me agai–”

Your chuckle is muffled against his lips. His fingers untangle from yours and he guides your hand to rest on the back of his neck so he can cup your cheek. His free arm coils around your waist, pulling you in closer, and your body melts into his. Your brain fuzzes. You lose all awareness of your surroundings. You think you might just stay like this forever.

----

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[sweet-as-an-angel]

Giant! König Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Creep! König, Perverted! König, König Owns a Cum Jar, Size Difference, Giant! König, Size Kink, Sadistic! König, Abuse of Power, Dub-Con, Cum Soaking, Attempts at Forced Impregnation, Implied Pregnancy, Voyeurism, Hostage Situation, Human Pet! Reader, Physical Violence, Human! Reader, Fem! Reader.

Giant! König captures you after he catches you sneaking around his castle, trying to loot something of value to take back to your impoverished village.

Giant! König immediately jumps at the opportunity to take you as his human pet, throwing you into a nearby jar and closing the lid, observing you like a spider beneath a glass.

Giant! König who, after deciding he wants to keep you long-term instead of turning your body into the sprinkles atop his ice cream, creates a more sustainable living space for you after discovering you’re not as durable as he thought (almost suffocating, dehydrating, and starving to death whilst being held in that damn jar).

Giant! König surprises you with a dollhouse of his own design: a door that locks from the outside, windows too small for you to crawl through, and walls made of a material too strong for your tiny utensils to burrow through.

Giant! König doesn’t take long to start using you for his own pleasure – almost like he has no other outlet; like he was just waiting for this opportunity to come.

Giant! König who, whenever he feels like punishing you, puts you in The Jar and stares you down whilst stroking his cock, gigantic even in comparison to other giants’. He grunts, berating you, telling you how he’d “Fill you with my cock if you weren’t so small – bet I could crush you with it if I wanted to.”

When he’s ready, he cums into the jar – all over you – thick and heavy, almost drowning you with just one spurt of his load.

He loves watching you struggle to keep your head above the viscous pool he’s trapped you in as you literally swim in his semen, looking up at him with pleading eyes, begging him to “Get me out, please!”.

He’ll often leave you in there without clothes to try and teach you a lesson. Until it turns into another reason – to breed you – which you accidentally sparked in him when you told him to be careful! You’ll end up getting me pregnant!

Giant! König can’t get your words out of his head, the primal urges he’s suppressed for so long unearthed by your pleas for him to spare you, if only once.

Giant! König knows he’s way too big to fit inside you, so this –  cumming profusely into a jar he’s encased you in whilst giving you no means of refusing his attempts – is the next best thing.

Giant! König gets off on the sheer size difference between the two of you  – the fact that you’re entirely dependent on him for your survival. Makes him feel like the kind of giant he’s supposed to be; strong and well-seeded.

Giant! König lays awake at night and fantasises about having a family, a far-off dream until you came along. It’s all he can think about as the image of you, his tiny wife, swollen to an almost painful degree as you bear his children, floods his mind, makes his cock twitch – harden. He resists the urge to relieve himself of this burden, preferring to save every ounce of his seed for you rather than wasting even a drop of it.

Giant! König who, despite his…questionable treatment of you, does try to treat you well. He lets you eat as much as you want, both because he knows you come from a poor background and because he has to keep you healthy to bear his offspring — especially since he knows they’ll be quite big compared to you.

Giant! König enjoys questioning you about your life before him, how humans work, what they do all day, whether the stereotypes of them all being lustful, pride-driven,  creatures are true.

If you validate any part of this stereotype, he’ll use that as an excuse to sink you in even more of his cum, to subject you to the task of sitting on his cock (horizontally, might I add) while he commands you to get yourself off by humping the shaft.

Man’s had no outlet for basicall all his life – he’s feral.

Giant! König loves to watch you while you’re tucked up in your dollhouse, observing everything you do. Humans are a rarity in the Giant Lands, so to have one in his home is a mythic occurrence.

Giant! König loves showing you off; he thrives on the reaction he gets when his friends see you. You’re, as stated before, a rarity in their parts, often used as a delicacy rather than a pet since humans aren’t particularly sturdy compared to giants, so managing to keep one alive is something of a status symbol in itself; the mark of a truly capable mate (hence captive humans are often given as courting gifts between giants).

However, König is also highly protective of you – especially after he caught Horangi (another giant he’d been showing you off to) goading you – harassing you – stroking his cock, telling you to “Lick the tip. Never felt a human tongue before.”

Needless to say, König never invited him around again after that.

Giant! König is, obviously, good with his hands and technical know-how. Thus, if his method of soaking you in his semen doesn’t work when trying to knock you up, he’ll create some unlawful contraption to make it inevitable.

Despite his size, König has managed to make a tiny glass syringe that he’s packed with his cum, holding you down easily with one hand as he presses the tip to your entrance, pumping you full of his seed.

He struggles to contain how the scene – the feeling – of you trying desperately to fight him off, to stop him from filling you, makes him feel. You have to watch the bulge between his legs grow as the feeling of being filled past full overcome you.

Giant! König does this as many times as he likes until he knows his seed’s taken, when you start showing. Which, considering how big his offspring will be, is pretty early on.

He definitely makes maternity clothes for you – comfortable garments that show the swell of your stomach as the weeks crawl by into months.

Giant! König loves bathing you, too. Especially after he’s covered you in his cum.

There’s something so intimate and gentle about it – a scarcity in the Giant Lands. Having something so small and fragile in his hands, knowing that he can crush you in his grip at any moment, makes him feel…responsible. Trustworthy.

Giant! König will never let you go, btw. You can try to run as much as you want, but he’ll always catch up to you, his human pet.

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[steveslevis]

i love you, it’s ruining my life

azriel x cassian’s sister!reader - part 1 of 3

summary: it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you weren’t supposed to be your brother’s best friend’s mate, especially when that best friend is the same male who’s acted like you don’t exist for the last two centuries.

warnings: angst, very brief mentions of violence and abuse, azriel is oblivious and reader is angry, not much pining in this part mainly just angsty

A single band of golden thread, stretched from your soul, reaching out into an abyss. There was seemingly no end to the thread, no definite stop, just a shadowy mess that sent the thread into a disarray as it reached for your mate. 

Your mate. The male who had spoken maybe a full sentence to you a handful of times in the last few centuries. The male who was best friends with your brother, and acted as if you didn’t even exist.

Even in your younger years in Windhaven, it seemed Azriel didn’t even know you were there. Like you were a ghost, invisible to him in every sense of the word. 

Azriel didn’t ever really speak to anyone, though, so it wasn’t like you were an exception, he treated you like most everyone else. But you never had been able to shake the fact that he would nearly sprint out of a room if you were the only one in it, or that he would refuse to look you in the eyes when you spoke at dinner. It was like he couldn’t even stand the thought of being in the same vicinity of you, like he couldn’t stomach talking to you. 

And you were now bound to him, for the rest of eternity.

The bond had snapped for you immediately upon seeing the state of Azriel when they returned from Hybern without Feyre, when the entirety of their plan had gone up in flames, with Azriel in the main path of destruction. 

Seeing him in so much pain tugged at your heart, nearly ripping it out of your chest when you saw how ruined his wings were. It affected you so much that you ran out of the room when they first arrived, partially because of how much it hurt you to see him like that, and partially because of how distraught the bond snapping into place had immediately made you feel. You couldn’t bear to see your mate in so much pain, and you knew you didn’t trust yourself to be around when they inevitably put him into more pain while healing him. 

You kept to yourself for weeks after their arrival, only speaking to Rhysand and your brother when need be. 

Rhys was the first one to find out about your dilemma.

He called you into his study weeks later to talk about a mission, one he needed you specifically on for your daemati skills. While he explained the details, he could tell your mind was elsewhere, so much so that you couldn’t even stop him from getting past the pure obsidian wall you’d built up in your mind, the wall you never let anyone break down until that moment. 

Rhysand had given you a hesitant look when he stopped explaining the tasks in order to peer into your mind and capture your attention. He didn’t want to pry, only to get your mind focused by scaling his talon down the obsidian wall, which to his surprise collapsed before he could even attempt to breach it. But you nodded when he silently asked to see what had been keeping you so on edge, what had stopped you from helping Madja out with taking care of Azriel when they returned from Hybern, what had stopped you from engaging in conversation at dinner as of late.

A vision of a golden thread shrouded in black and gray shadows was sent to Rhys’ mind, along with a memory of exactly the moment you had been struck with the bond. 

“Have you told him?” he implored, though he seemed to already know the answer. 

You couldn’t even speak at that point, only shaking your head in response as tears brimmed your eyes when you thought of how fucked up it was to be bonded to someone who’d barely acknowledged you in the hundreds of years you’d known him. 

Rhys gave you a sympathetic look then, knowing the feeling of an unrequited bond all too well. 

You promised him about a thousand times that you wouldn’t let him find out, that you wouldn’t let the agony and sadness get in the way of the mission. You could prove yourself worthy and able to go on without thinking about how you might never get an accepted bond, you assured him that you could. He was still unsure when he agreed to let you go on the mission, but it was miniscule enough that any lapses in judgment wouldn’t be detrimental, so he agreed.

And you proved yourself, just like you said you would. You proved yourself over and over again with Rhysand’s missions, building up your mental shields stronger than they ever had been before. So strong, that the High Lord himself had a hard time cracking through them. 

You became a shell of what you were before seeing your mate in that near-death state, but you didn’t care. You needed to distract yourself in any way, shape or form that you could in order to forget about him, to forget that he’d never even taken a second glance in your direction. 

It got to the point where you became so shut off from reality that even Cassian, your brother known for paying no mind to female emotions, started to notice. 

You caught Cassian giving you inquisitive stares a handful of times during training and at dinners when your attitude was exceptionally reserved and demure, but never thought he would actually say anything to you. 

That was until he finally snapped, on the first dinner with Feyre back in Velaris, which just so happened to be the first dinner that Azriel joined in the weeks after Hybern.

You nearly fell out of your seat when you saw him in all his glory. There he was, standing at the end of the table, as beautiful as ever. He was almost fully healed, aside from a few scars littered over the membrane of his wings. 

Excited chatter filled the room as he entered, everyone falling into their rightful place in the Inner Circle, along with the newest members, Nesta and Elain. Though you were one of the longest standing members of Rhysand’s Inner Circle, you felt the most out of place in that moment.

The wine you’d been sipping churned in your stomach as you eyed the shadowsinger, who was sitting quietly across the table from you. You couldn’t handle it, knowing that he was your mate and he had no clue. You couldn’t stomach the thought of him finding out, of him potentially rejecting the bond. 

After a moment of silently wallowing in your self pity, you felt that familiar talon scrape along your mental shield. Rhys was requesting access to your mind, likely to give you some insight about this unrequited feeling based on his own experience. 

You rejected his request instead of letting him in, shooting him a quick glance before standing up abruptly, quietly excusing yourself with the reasoning that you weren’t feeling well. 

You rushed up the stairs, toward your bedroom all the while feeling like you were drowning. You needed air, fresh air, now. It was in that moment that you thanked the Cauldron for Rhysand putting you in the bedroom with a large balcony, one perfect for moments like this. 

Little did you know, your brother had stalked up the stairs behind you, worried after seeing the panic-stricken look on your face before bolting from the room.

You didn’t bother to close your bedroom door behind you, leaving Cassian the perfect opportunity to come in to check on you. You were out on the balcony in an instant, nearly gasping for air as the cool night breeze hit your face. 

“Hey,” Cassian called behind you, standing awkwardly in the middle of your bedroom. “You alright?”

“I don’t want to talk right now, Cass.” you retort quickly, shooting a glare in his direction before leaning over the metal railing as he furrows his brow. “I obviously don’t feel great at the moment.”

“Yeah, no shit. But that doesn’t warrant you snapping at me when all I’m doing is coming to check on you,” he presses, taking a step onto the balcony to stand by you. “It doesn’t warrant you ignoring me for fucking weeks now.” 

“What do you want me to say, Cassian?” you snap, throwing your hands up in defeat. “I—I don’t really know what kind of explanation you need from me, I just haven’t been in a talking mood these last few weeks.”

“Oh, bullshit.” he says, shaking his head at you. “I see you chatting with Rhys and Mor all the fucking time. You’re only shutting me out. What the fuck did I do?”

You take a moment to look up at your brother, finally seeing the hurt sketched across his features as he pleads with you, trying desperately to get through to you. 

“You didn’t do anything.” you sigh, letting your guard down as you realize how much you’d hurt your twin in the last few weeks. “I—I just am going through some shit right now.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” he says, nudging your arm with his elbow as a relieved but hesitant smile passes over his face. “I’m always here to lend an ear.”

“Are you sure?” you say, voice cracking as you internally accept that you’re about to change everything in Cassian’s life with four simple words. 

“Positive.” Cassian says, smile still on his face as he grips your shoulder to reassure you.

“Azriel is my mate.” you say bluntly, watching in silent terror as your brother’s face falls and so does his hand from your shoulder. “And he has no idea.”

——————————————————————

That was almost two years ago. 

Cassian took the news quite well, and became your biggest supporter when it came to dealing with the hardships of an unrequited mating bond. Even as he dealt with his own unrequited bond for a short amount of time, he still made sure to make it known that he still cared for and understood the pain you were going through. 

And now that the war against Hybern had been won, you could focus all your energy into training and missions Rhys would send you on. 

Rhysand knew you preferred to be sent on solo missions, that you worked better alone without anyone disrupting your focus. But, there were some missions that couldn’t be done alone. 

“You–This is a joke, right?” you say with a laugh, narrowing your eyes at the High Lord who sat across the desk in his office, raising his eyebrow at you as you laugh. “I work alone, Rhys.”

“I know you work best alone, but sometimes I can’t send you alone,” Rhys starts, giving you a sharp glare as you start to stand from your chair, “I can’t send you alone, not on this one.” 

“Why?” you pressed, pushing off the arms of your chair to move closer to the desk. “You haven’t even told me what I’m doing or where I’ll be going yet, so why should I even agree to it without knowing?”

The look the High Lord was giving you made you uneasy, turning your stomach in knots, but you persisted. You needed him to stop treating you like you were made of glass, like you would break, like you hadn’t been training with Cassian since you could stand. 

“I’m not a child anymore, Rhys.” you snapped, hands balling into fists as they pressed against the oak of his large desk. “I can handle whatever it is, without Azriel babysitting me.”

“I really don’t know–”

“Are you trying to torture me?” you interject, a pained expression crossing over your face, one of betrayal at the feeling of one of your longest friends trying to put you in such an uncomfortable position when he knows exactly what you’ve been dealing with over the last two years. “Are you trying to make me suffer, do you want me to –”

“I need you to go to Windhaven.” Rhys finally commanded, voice wavering slightly as he brought up the place you once called home, the place he knew would send you regressing into a lesser version of yourself. “I need you to go there, with Azriel.”

The mention of Windhaven sent a shiver down your spine, wings twitching in fear as you thought about the horrors you endured in your final years at the camp. Your sharp gaze flickered for a split second, mind running back to that cabin, to the flash of wings and clawing hands, to the male who did irreparable damage to your soul, to the moment you swore you’d never let a male hurt you again. With a shake of your head, you block the thoughts out, pressing that black obsidian wall back up to prevent yourself from breaking. 

“I’ll be fine on my own.” you say, putting your stern persona back into place, trying to make it seem as though you’re unbothered. 

“I need to send him with you, someone needs to watch your back.” he insists while shaking his head as his gaze softens, trying to get you to break from your hardened facade. 

“What about Cass?” you retort, shaking your head.

“He’ll be in Spring, he’s got business with Tamlin and Eris to attend to for me.” he quickly replies, shaking his own head. “Please, I need you to do this.” 

“I–I can’t.”

“Is the thought of being alone with me for two days that bad?” a voice comes from behind you, nearly making you jump out of your skin.

Your mate, just the person you didn’t want to see right now. 

You whip around quickly at the sound of his voice, brow furrowed as you see him standing in the doorway. It takes everything in you not to sigh at the sight of him, at how damn good he looked, just standing there. You cursed yourself internally, wishing you could think about anything else besides how much you pined for him. Still, you had an image to uphold, an image of distaste for the beautiful shadowsinger standing in front of you.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, shadowsinger.” you snap, shooting a glare in his direction that sends a pang of guilt running down the one-sided bond. 

“I’m sorry?” he questions, raising an eyebrow at you, his face the poster child for cool composure as your rage boils in front of him. 

“You can barely stand to be in the same room for me for more than five minutes,” you state, crossing your arms matter-of-factly. “You quite literally leave any space in the house when I’m the only other person around.”

The thought of your mate, the one who was supposed to be at your side for all of eternity, leaving the room any time you entered made your blood boil and chest ache. You ached for him, you ached to feel his touch, to be loved by him. But he didn’t care about you, didn’t care if you lived or died. 

Seeing the anger in your eyes made Azriel stop in his tracks, something unfamiliar tugging at his heart as you seethed. There was a gnawing feeling in his chest as he thought about the last five hundred years, how he never paid you any mind. 

The truth was, he avoided you with every bit of willpower he had in order to restrain himself. He couldn’t be around you for more than a few moments without your overpowering scent filling his nose feeding his desire to tear you apart. Every time he was with you alone, he wanted to tear down any walls that he had and just have at you, to have you as his. He wanted you carnally, he wanted all of you, all of the time.

But that wasn’t the kind of male he was. He would never do such a thing to Cassian, his best friend. He couldn’t let himself have you just to fulfill his deepest desires, you deserved so much more than to be some one night fling. You deserved to be loved and cared for, to be protected at all costs. 

So he had ignored you, for almost five fucking centuries, because he thought he couldn’t give you what you deserved. He pushed out any thought he had about you, pushed away the urge to pursue you in any way, and pushed you away in the process. He knew you well from watching from afar, but to you it seemed as though you were the last thought in his mind, when in reality, you were the only thought in his mind at all times. 

“That’s not–” Azriel started, but the words fell on his lips as he watched your own pull into a frown, an expression that was much more broken than the anger that had crossed over your face when he snuck in. 

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought, you prick.” you said weakly, finally letting your emotions get the better of you. As tears pricked your eyes, you turned to Rhys once more. “I will not be going anywhere with him. I will be going by myself, or not at all. I am strong enough to do this on my own and I’m tired of being treated like a child in this court.” 

Rhys only stared at you as you stalked towards the desk once again, watching as your hands shook with pain. He showed no change in emotion as you spoke, fully in High Lord mode instead of the Rhysand you knew and loved. 

“I will be in my room, packing. When you’re done being a stubborn male and realize that I can do whatever the hell it is you need me to do, I’ll be waiting for further instructions.” you state, trying to choke back the tears that are threatening to flow onto the wood in front of your hands. 

The High Lord nods firmly in response, and you turn on your heels. Azriel is still standing in the doorway, but you don’t dare to look at him. You push past the shadowsinger, swiping your cheeks hastily as tears fall down them. As you pass, your wing brushes his in the lightest of touches. You swallow a gasp as they touch, a shockwave flowing through your wing and going straight to your heart. 

Azriel turns to gaze at you with wide eyes and you immediately know he felt it too. He felt the shock, the electricity between your wings, but not in the way you did. Not down the one-sided, golden bond that stretched toward him. 

Confusion spread over his face as he looked at you, but you turned away and rushed towards your room before he could fully process what happened. 

The rest of your afternoon was spent alone in your room, laying on your bed for most of the night as you stared up at the ceiling. You cursed yourself internally over and over again, wishing there were some way to change everything, some way to make you forget that you even had a mate. 

Over and over again, you told yourself how you weren’t worthy of the immeasurable love that came with a mate, how you would never be good enough for Azriel. 

It had always been like that for you, though. The feeling of inadequacy was a daily occurrence for you, it wasn’t a secret. Cassian knew it, and so did Rhysand, so you’re sure Azriel did too. You worked day in and day out trying to prove that you were worthy to your brother and the High Lord and everyone around you, regardless of the pain you put yourself in.

Rhysand knew you too well, and knew that you were all too serious about going on the mission by yourself, or at least without Azriel. After you left his office, he’d tried to speak to Cassian about accompanying you, but it was of no use, he was preoccupied. He didn’t want you to go by yourself, he knew you’d be scared just by being in Windhaven again, but he also knew that you being the one to go on this mission was the only hope. 

Your untraceable daemati skills were an impeccable weapon that couldn’t be replaced by Azriel’s shadows or Cassian’s brute force. Even the High Lord himself didn’t have daemati powers as stealthful as yours, so you were the best option when it came to figuring out who was trying to rebel. 

After much contemplation, Rhys eventually sent a concise and firm message to your mind.

I need you in Windhaven by dinner tonight, Devlon will be expecting you to be there. There are a few Illyrians that I need you to check in on while you’re there, Cass told me there are talks of rebellion led by Cormac and Bavlard. he explained, you should only need to be there for tonight to gather enough information, but plan to stay until tomorrow evening in case we need more intel. You’ll stay in the cabin as usual, I’ll be in contact regularly to check on you, since you’ll be on your own this time.

The last sentence had a smile flickering on your lips, happy that Rhysand was finally taking you seriously as a member of his Inner Circle and trusting you enough to send you on missions by yourself. Luckily, you were already packed so it didn’t take much for you to get ready to go. 

In less than an hour, you were dressed in your fighting leathers and on the balcony of your room. You waste no time in flying from the house, large wings spreading for the first time in what feels like forever as you make for the sky.

The breeze against your skin makes you sigh with joy, trying to enjoy the twinge of happiness that flying gives you as you make your way towards the place you once called home, the place you now call hell.

taglist: @paleidiot @tothestarsandwhateverend @impossibelle