#girlie was doomed from the start

[lockedtowers]

‘would cassie have been better off if her family was in her life’ her dads the j/abberwock and the one who took her her conscious to physically kill her to unlock her powers its hard to say if she’s have the same level of trauma or worse trauma but she would have had a father who loved her. in his way. which is still kinda shit.

[greenqueenhightower]

To those who say Alicent wasn’t supposed to be enjoying herself by having sex with Criston when she’s found out Lucerys had died and the blacks would be coming after her and her family I have to say: Alicent was never supposed to be enjoying anything, and that’s the point. The moment she does it, all hell breaks loose and she reverts to hating herself for seeking personal enjoyment.

[pinkwinesupernovas]

change the fucking prophecy damnit

[aguagua]

no but i like wanna talk about vandermatthews and hosea specifically,, but also I’m literally incoherent so it’s just gonna live in my tags

[nightly-ruse]

A sketchy watercolor doodle of the cats of all time. Moth is so happy and Leaf loves seeing her happy. Specifically drew this with “Comfort Me” by Sparklehorse on loop very good song esp in the idea of them.

[lightsoutletsgo]

I’m such an angst girly omg how about lando’s phone not working and reader gets sad he’s not replying or answering her calls for a few days🤨

pairing: lando norris x reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: angst, allusions to a panic attack, reader is v emotional, lando is an idiot ahhhh tysm for sending this in! It was fun to write but ofc I had to make it fluffy to end bc I didn't wanna make myself too sad happy reading! love mimi 🤍

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

Long distance relationships were hard, you knew that before you’d even started dating Lando. You’d heard all of the stories before but like the many innocent others who had yet to experience their partner being on the other side of the world, you were determined that everything would be okay. 

Now, as you thought back to how naive you’d been, you scoffed, how could you have thought it would be so simple? If you weren’t battling with time zones, you were battling to find free time, and if you found free time, it was never quiet and peaceful and it never lasted more than a few minutes. You knew you should have been satisfied with those snatched moments you did get, but you missed your boyfriend. 

You missed him even more when he got another podium and you weren’t there to celebrate with him. You’d stayed up until stupid o’clock to watch the race live and you’d cheered and jumped as your boyfriend performed overtake after overtake to move up the grid to claim second place. You knew that once he had done his post-race interviews and meetings he would call you. You sighed as once more Lando’s contact picture flashed up with ‘facetime unavailable’. You’d scheduled this call the night before but he was only a few minutes late. You shook your head as you took a deep breath, he was probably just finishing up in meetings. Half an hour went by and your stomach twisted with worry as you still hadn’t heard from him. You checked your phone but there were no new notifications - not from him at least anyway. 

You curled up on the couch, noticing Lando’s hoodie still resting over the arm of the couch. Pulling it towards you, you nuzzled your face into it and inhaled, the smell of his cologne washing over you. You felt tears well up in your eyes. No matter how busy or tired he was, he had never once missed your call. You grew angry, not with Lando, never with Lando, but just at the situation. 

You huffed and grabbed your phone once more, deciding to doom scroll through instagram until Lando finally called. You noticed that a few people had posted new stories and so you pressed on the first one, absentmindedly tapping your screen until you paused, sitting up quickly as you realised the story you were looking at was Max Fewtrell’s. He’d posted a video in the club at a post-race party. You normally wouldn’t have batted an eyelid, but you could have sworn in the back corner of the dimly-lit club video was a figure that looked suspiciously like Lando. Going back to the start of his story and scrolling through again you realised it was Lando, wearing the black shirt you��d given him for his birthday the previous year. 

Turns out you could be mad at Lando. Something uncomfortable and hot flashed in your stomach as nausea hit you. Anger curled its way up your spine and through your chest, tightening around your lungs and making it hard to breathe. He was out at a club? And that’s why he hadn’t called you? You growled and glared at your screen, thumbs jabbing into the keyboard as you furiously typed a message to Max. He was online, you noted, as you hit ‘send’ and waited for him to read it. You barely had to wait five minutes before Max was apologising profusely and sending you a long paragraph about how he was sure Lando had texted you and would be letting him know straight away. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, throwing your phone down on the couch next to you with a ‘hmmph’. You sat in silence for a while, your emotions slowly welling up as tears gathered on your lash line. Was this how your relationship was going to end? Long nights alone while Lando partied it up on the other side of the world? Surrounded by scores of choices of pretty women and an endless supply of alcohol? You couldn’t help the way you sobbed as you grabbed his hoodie once more, desperately trying to catch your breath. You were crying so hard you almost didn’t hear the way your phone vibrated on the cushion. You gasped for air as you picked it up and turned it over, Max’s name flashing on the screen. You snatched your phone up and pressed the green button to accept, not even registering that it was a facetime call and he was going to see you crying.

You inhaled sharply as it was Lando’s worried face that appeared on the screen, he looked panicked and you could hear the music thumping in the background although slightly muffled. Despite the fluorescent lights he was standing under, he still looked good, “Baby? Oh my god…” He took in your tear stained cheeks and the way your eyes were red. He noted your sniffling noises and the way your bottom lip trembled, “Love I’m so so sorry!” You let out a laugh and rolled your eyes, trying to not let him see the next wave of tears that were threatening to fall, “Sure.” He sighed, “Honey, I promise you, I didn't mean it. I did text you! I didn’t realise it didn’t go through because I was in the post-race meeting!” “I wanted to celebrate your win with you!” Lando gently shushed you as he saw your chest heave, your breathing quickening once more, “Baby, baby, shh sh sh it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m right here.” He looked off screen for a moment to a person you assumed to be Max before the music got louder again and then quiet, as if Max had left Lando alone. You followed along with his breathing as he over exaggerated for you to copy.

“Love I promise you it was just an accident okay? I texted you to ask if you were ready to call but when there was no reply I assumed you’d fallen asleep so then I texted you to ask if you could be at the airport for 4am…” He winced, “I decided to fly home early and have a few days with you before the next race.” You melted back against the couch, hugging his hoodie to your chest as you tucked your knees up under your chin and rested your phone there, “4am?” You sniffled with a giggle, “Is that my hoodie?” He said, doing his best to distract you and you let out a proper giggle this time, “Lando! 4am is so early!” He laughed, relieved to see you feeling better, “I figured we could go for a super early breakfast and then go home and fall asleep together, in our bed, in our apartment which is my favourite place to be, with my love. Your bottom lip wobbled once more, “You promise?” He nodded to assure you, “I promise.” You inhaled deeply and let out an exhale with a sigh, “I can’t wait to see you,” your thumb gently rubbed across his cheek even through the screen. “I can’t wait to see you either love, can’t wait to be home”

[angelshadowsinger]

Scarlet-Tipped Secrets; Peonies, for You

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.5k

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: angst

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 (𝐓𝐖):

hanahaki!au, TW gore/vomiting (mildly descriptive— it’s bloody petals), unrequited love, themes of depression and lack of self worth, pining (so much pining), & dramaaaaa

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 

When you develop feelings for your best friend, you delude yourself into believing you can ignore them for the rest of your life, if it means you can stay by his side. But once he starts seeing someone else, you discover that if you continue keeping your secret… your time on earth may be cut short. You find yourself with an impossible choice— remove all attachments to the shadowsinger and live, or hold out hope and suffer the consequences. 

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 

This one goes out to all my angst girlies. My ladies who like the feeling of tears crawling onto your pillow, of hurt balling up in your stomach as you wander through a fic. I see you and I feel you, and I cooked this one up special just for you. 

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

Mates do not exist in the universe that this fic is set in, meaning Elain is not “off limits” to Az, and Cass is single. Additionally, since mates aren’t a thing, marriage/weddings are! 

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

The first time it had happened, you had been more confused than anything. 

Azriel had just given Elain a gift for Starfall; a pair of earrings that would glow a warm pink when kissed by the sun’s rays. Her cheeks turned the same color as she admired them, as did the tips of the shadowsinger’s ears. 

Just one smooth petal rested in your palm as you brought your hand back from covering a cough, pink and delicate and beautiful. You thought that maybe it had landed in your palm before you coughed— even if there were no peonies in the vicinity and you hadn’t even seen one in months. Because there was no way that it had come… out of you. 

The second time it happened, confusion became fear and it swiftly took root deep in your stomach. This time, it was a couple of petals, dewey in your hand as you turned away from your friends, shock running through you. 

Azriel and Elain were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the love seat in the living room of the House of Wind, spirits being passed around by everyone and laughter filling the air. They had just shared a look you could infer was meant to be a secret between only them, but you had unfortunately witnessed the action. You could hardly breathe as you quickly hid the evidence of your newfound predicament, dumping the petals into a potted plant beside the mantle. You hoped that you were slick; taking a slow sip from your glass in an attempt to rid your throat of that tight, scratchy feeling even though your body was screaming for you to gulp it down. 

In that moment, you realized that something was wrong with you. It would only take a few more petal-filled fits and two trips to the grand library of Velaris to discover that you were— to put it simply— completely, wholly, and undeniably doomed. It was there, during the early hours of morn and the empty, candle-lit corridors that you learned three things;

You were in love with your best friend, Azriel. 

He was in love with someone else.

And you were going to die. 

— 

Things between you and the shadowsinger hadn’t always been so difficult. 

Your relationship was, for many years, easy and left you feeling light; every conversation and interaction cherished. Initially, the pair of you had become fast friends; the other members of the Inner Circle even remarking on how he was usually a little slower to build relations. Perhaps something of your sense of self, intelligence, and silver-thorned wit had something to do with his initial intrigue. That was the guess Feyre ventured, anyway. 

Once your friendship with the elusive male had blossomed, it was easy to maintain. Though you didn’t see him every day, when he did pay you a visit, the two of you made the most of it. The Inner Circle liked to poke at the pair of you, even going so far as to joke about your relationship that was not a relationship. And you and Azriel took it like champs; never wavering, always keeping it light in good fun. 

But at night when you would crawl into your sheets and close your eyes, sometimes thoughts of him would find you. It was wrong to be thinking of your best friend like this when he so obviously would never feel that way for you, and yet… you pondered how his fingers would feel tracing across your naked back. You wondered what it would be like to melt into his arms at the end of the day, how his heartbeat would sound if it was just inches away from your ear, if you could lay your head on his chest. 

You tried, you really did try to stop the thoughts from coming. But they quickly became more vivid, and more frequent than before. You couldn’t rid him from your mind— couldn’t focus when he came near, couldn’t hold up your end of the witty volley you usually shared because you’d get flustered if you stared at him for too long. Slowly, you had come to realize that the jokes your friends loved to make weren’t just conjecture— they knew all along that something was there. 

It made you wonder if Azriel knew, too. 

He was undeniably one of the smartest males you had come to know— your appraisal of him was sparkling, stellar. But when it came to things regarding emotion— specifically, his own emotions… he tended not to be quite as adept. So you had now landed in this confusion-fogged purgatory. Either your best friend knew you harbored feelings for him and he did not return them whatsoever— acting ignorant of your emotions. Or he didn’t know you were in love with him, didn’t even see a romantic relationship with you as a possibility, and maybe… if he were enlightened, he would realize that he… loved you too. 

It was that very hope that had you holding out for so long. You so desperately wanted to believe that he just wasn’t aware of your feelings— of his— that you smushed your dignity down and continued to uphold your friendship, never revealing that you felt romantically attracted to him. 

But the waiting game, of course, came back to bite you in the ass. Because the moment you realized he had started to see someone else… you knew that you had deluded yourself for months. All those nights that you laid awake, fantasizing about him and how he would proclaim his love to you… they were just fantasies. Nothing of the sort would ever happen. 

Because now, he had Elain. 

Her— the Archeron sister known for her gentle spirit and her striking face. She was quiet, and sweet, and goddamn breathtaking. Of course it had to be her; it couldn’t have been some bitch that would actually be deserving of your hatred. Because he was perfect, why would his choice of life partner be anything but? You couldn’t think of a bad word to say about the woman. 

Elain had always treated you with polite kindness, a sense of regality emanating from her and her ethereal beauty. Though she wasn’t by any means your favorite female, there was nothing she had ever done to justify even a grain of dislike. You couldn’t say your few conversations had been riveting, nor her presence been warm and inviting… but they hadn’t been the opposite either. Your opinion on her was removed, but pleasant. Hell, if you could stand a blow to the ego, you might even admit you were jealous of the looks almost every male gave her when she entered the room. 

The jealousy certainly ramped up once you realized that your beloved shadowsinger was one of those males… and actually, he was the only one she seemed to return interest toward, which of course… was salt in the wound. 

As the weeks dragged on, their supposedly-secret affair began picking up speed. The sight of Azriel’s warm hazel gaze pinned to her made your stomach churn with unease, the petals itching up your throat more and more often. It became easier to just avoid the both of them in general, and with the absence of their presences, it was easier for you to pretend that everything was fine, and that you could handle your worsening condition on your own. 

But of course, that was not the case. 

Because after a few months, the Inner Circle gathered in private quarters above the Night Court Annual Starfall Ball. Thousands celebrated and swirled below you in the ballroom and yet you could only focus on one. It was then that the man who haunted your thoughts stood before the rest of you, pretty Elain tucked under his arm all giddy and shy, and announced they were engaged to be wed.

—

Warm liquid trickled out from the corner of your mouth, your ears ringing as your vision blurred in two, wide waves cleaving and then melting together again. 

The crisp air felt welcome on your flushed cheeks, cool on your inflamed, ragged lungs. Stars danced above you as they pelted across the sky, and in your haggard state, they seemed to smear into a disorienting and beautiful masterpiece. 

Someone was kneeling in front of you, large wings casting shadows around broad shoulders as they yelled something you couldn’t quite understand. The warm smell of them was comforting and you relaxed slightly, recognizing it was Cassian and slumping as his calloused hands came to hold your biceps.  

The spliced image of him made it too hard to read the words on his lips. You tried to sit up but your body was drained, making it impossible to move. The Illyrian gathered your limp form into his arms and your head lolled to face the ground, finally piecing together what had happened. 

A pile of pink, lush petals glistened up at you against the dark stone of the balcony floor, the light from the full moon sparkling off droplets of deep scarlet. It had happened again… and this time, it was even worse than before. You had had another episode— the evidence of it glaring even in your semi-conscious state. 

“You’re in love with him…,” Cassian said slowly, barely even audible. 

But you heard it— your body trembling with some sick concoction of shame and relief. For so long you had not uttered a whisper of your feelings, never daring to take ownership of them, let alone share them. There were no words that you could muster, nothing sharp or bright for you to make a response. You were just tired. Indescribably tired. Gods, you were so tired, your limbs felt as if they had turned to stone, and you could slumber for a thousand years. 

“This doesn’t make any sense,” the male growled, squeezing your limp form closer to his firm chest. “I swear, he… Gods, this is fucked.” 

You closed your eyes and allowed his body heat to seep into you, finding a small bit of comfort there. Cassian didn’t choose to say anything else as the waves of sickness gradually dissipated, leaving you weak and numb.

“Cass,” you rasped, barely able to get enough air to speak. “I’m scared.” Your head felt as if it was filled with a thick smog— struggling to get enough oxygen as you slowly recovered. 

The General’s brow furrowed in pain at your pitiful confession, gathering you closer to his chest and tucking your head in tight beneath his chin. “I know, sweetheart. But you’re not alone. You don’t have to do this by yourself, not anymore. I’m here.” Cassian held you so delicately you wanted to cry, guilt pulsing through you as you realized he must have been terrified to have found you in such a sorry state. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, woe taking root deep in your chest. Now that you had seen Azriel with her— like that, so clearly in love with her, parading their affections out in the open, for anyone and everyone to see as he twirled her around the ballroom earlier… It was too much. Every part of you throbbed in agony, and you were consumed in fresh throes of self-pity. It was completely humiliating to be this debilitated. All because you were in love with your best friend, and he was in love with someone else. 

Cassian scrunched his brow, the planes of his chiseled face settling into solid lines as you regained your bearings. “There’s no need to apologize, Y/n. You didn’t ask for this— how you feel is not your fault. Your body is already punishing you for simply having feelings— don’t let your mind join in on the beating too.”

You nodded, tucking your hands into your chest as he sighed and stood, taking you with him. He lifted you into his embrace with the utmost ease, as though you weighed nothing more than a sheet of paper. Your evening dress fluttered with the movement. If anyone caught sight of you two from far away, perhaps it could be construed as romantic, the way he now held you in his strong arms, strolling away from the party.

“You don’t seem as… freaked out as I thought you would,” you whispered as he walked with lethal quiet. Shadows stood tall above you as you approached the hedged boundary of the estate gardens, cutting into the overwhelming display the falling stars continued to put on. 

Cassian was quiet. 

You took a minute to study his somber expression, trying to read what he was feeling in this moment of recollection. Clearly, he had some experience with this disease before. Otherwise, he would’ve ran you right inside the ball, or to the nearest healer. But he didn’t— instead, he’d wandered into the dark hedges of the grounds, concealing you from prying eyes and ears. As if he understood what you would want most in this moment of shattering vulnerability. 

“I’m not sure why you expect so little of me, little one,” he eventually replied, coming to the center of the area. He perched you beside him on a wrought-iron bench, facing a small fountain whose gentle gurgle drowned out the last hints of the celebration you’d left behind. 

You frowned. Your lungs felt looser— distracted by whatever it was that provided Cassian with experience regarding your dreadful illness. It was nearly enough to forget the bomb that had been dropped on you upstairs just twenty minutes ago. “It’s not that, it’s just—“ you began. Cass shot you a playful look and you sighed, a smile daring at your lips as you rolled your eyes. “Okay I just meant that before this, I’d never heard of this kind of thing…” Your voice trailed off, hand reaching to rest on his before you murmured, “I’m sorry you have.” 

The Illyrian raised a brow and let out a short, hollow laugh. “Oh no— It wasn’t me, I don’t… Well, never that bad anyway. I’ve just seen… how bad it can get. An old friend of mine once had the unfortunate experience of falling ill to this plague centuries ago.”

You nodded and put your hands in your lap, digging a thumb into your palm. “What… happened to them?” 

Cassian closed his lips and sighed, hands bracing his knees. Silence drew out for a long beat before he finally spoke. “He told the one he loved about his ailment. And they told him..,” he trailed off, gaze darting sideways to land on you. You gestured for him to continue, and he did so after a brief pause. “They told him they would never have romantic feelings for him. They asked him to have the procedure. They wanted him to live, and if they couldn’t love him… then that was the only way.”

You shuddered. The very notion of the procedure made your bones ache and your shoulders sag.

“So he did,” Cassian went on, undeterred. “And he survived.” 

Quiet invaded the still air, otherwise only interrupted by the low chirps of crickets in the grass and the muffled party. Cassian decided not to speak any further on the subject, instead content to let a calm silence settle between the pair of you. But somehow, you found yourself talking— despite never having voiced aloud any of these feelings, any of these thoughts. 

“Cass, do you think… I should have the procedure, too?” 

It was a question that was fully weighted— heavy, you already knew, but by the way the Illyrian’s shoulders sagged, the gravity of it all seemed more drastic than before. 

Cassian took his time to form a reply, but when he finally did, it was in a soft and hushed voice. “I am not the one that should be making such calls, Y/n. But I will tell you that my friend… he was never quite the same.” 

You shared a look of understanding with him— he was your friend, and the male you were in love with was his brother. Freshly engaged brother, at that. The consequences of the procedure would certainly crack a deep fracture in the dynamic of your group. If anything, you would probably fade away from everyone, seeing as every one of your memories that the Shadowsinger dwelled in would be tainted— his absence removed entirely. He would not exist to you anymore, and even if that wouldn’t necessarily affect you, oblivious to his existence, everyone around you would not share that same luxury. 

And Azriel would be there, too. He would have to see you and know that you had loved him so intensely, that those feelings were so wholly one-sided, that you had to physically remove him from your mind. All so that your heart could forget him and start anew. Would that bother him? Knowing that you had suffered because you had fallen in love with him, while he would never possibly feel that way for you? Surely that would make him uncomfortable, to be in your presence after that. So ultimately, it would be best to just move away, and start somewhere else— clean slate. Would he even miss you? 

“Sometimes I think about it— the procedure. This disease, it’s a wretched way to live, Cass. It hurts,” you said, voice cracking as emotion welled up in your eyes and throat. “It hurts so fucking bad, I can’t even be around him anymore. Especially not now. Now that he’s…” You trained off, unable to say the words. 

Cassian slid to your side, tucking you underneath a strong arm. The shadow of his wing furled around you from behind, encasing you in a warm, safe space. Tears began to race down your cheeks, gathering at your chin and splattering onto the silken fabric on your lap. You couldn’t stop them— still too drained from the fit from before. All you could do was cry as your friend gathered you closer to him, patting the top of your head with careful strokes, trying his best to comfort you. 

Only once your crying seemed to subside did Cassian offer another solution. “Maybe… you could talk to him.” 

You laughed— a hollow, broken sound. Cassian lips curved up at the sound nonetheless. “I’m simply nowhere near as brave as you, Cass.”  Shaking your head, your gaze focused on the bubbling fountain before you. “Even if I could manage to face him, and confess to him… If he rejected me… I think I’d die on the spot.” 

“Don’t say that,” he said, voice low. 

You bit your lip. “And why not, Cass? There’s a good chance that I could drop dead any time I have one of these fits. That’s just reality.”

“Well fuck that reality,” Cassian spat, wings ruffling.  “I don’t want to live in a world without you, and I sure as hell know Azriel wouldn’t either.”

“Well maybe I don’t wanna live without him!” you yelled. After holding back your emotions for so long, they just kept flooding out after the hole Cassian had punched into the dam that had kept them at bay. “Maybe I’d rather die than lose even one memory with him, maybe I’ll just hold out for as long as I can because I’m too fucking scared to lose him!”

Cassian’s face twisted into agony. “And what of those who love you?” he challenged, voice shaking slightly with emotion. “What about us, what happens when you die, and when the last memories we will have of you were you withering away before our very eyes?! You love him? Do you know what world of pain he will be in when he finds out what happened to you? And then to discover your absolute complacency in the matter?”

A sob escaped you as you felt every word of truth pierce the feeble veil you had called a shield in your attempt at denial. Your friend was right— you couldn’t allow this disease to win, not if that meant hurting everyone you loved in the process. And now that you thought about it— even if you chose to remember him, and let the sickness take its course… what good would those memories do you, when you’d be dead? 

Cassian seemed to realize you had accepted defeat, because he tightened his hold on you and stroked your hair as you cried into his chest. The sadness you felt unfortunately was not alleviated by your tears, but at least… you had come to see that there was only one option forward. 

You had to go through with the procedure.

You had to forget Azriel.

𝘩𝘪 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴!! 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 <3 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘪𝘤, 𝘚𝘛𝘚𝘗𝘍𝘠~ 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵𝘺 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦! 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘻𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯~

𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘮𝘬 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 2 & 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯!!

⤷ masterlist

[yandere-romanticaa]

I have a fic idea, stay with me on this one folks.

I'm a massive Re Zero girlie and I always really liked how Return by Death was handled in the series. I'm also a massive Sunday girlie and the man is in my head rent free 25/8, so I've come up with a half baked idea which I find highly entertaining, but it still needs a lot of work. Here is the gist of it:

The premise is that you, the reader, get summoned to the world of Honkai Star Rail by the Aeon of Elation, Aha. Aha randomly picked a target from our world to torment and gave you the ability Return by Death simply because it wanted to.

In case you do not know, Return by Death allows your soul to travel the river of time backwards to a save point that Subaru (in this case you, the reader) and/or the witch of envy (in this case Aha) deem safe and/or useful. Now, I figured that the Astral Express would end up picking you up along the way but Aha keeps killing you over and over again just for fun. Aha might also wish to mess with other worlds or the people you've started to care for in this universe, which in prompt forces you to kill yourself in order to save your friends from certain doom, forcing you to start from scratch all over again.

I was thinking that Sunday would have something of a cheat code to eventually realize that something is wrong due to his tuning ability. Across your journey you end up developing feelings for Sunday and the feeling would become mutual, but tragedy keeps striking over and over and over again, always dooming someone to die.

Other characters that I'm thinking who would figure out that something was wrong or not right with you would be Welt, Acheron and Sparkle. Honorable mention to Sampo too.

Again, this idea is barely half baked and I basically just stole the plot of Re Zero and applied it to Honkai Star Rail LMAO. I did not intend this fic to be yandere and if I ever did write it, I wanted to do it on my side blog because this main one is only for dark content.

If anyone has any ideas, suggestions or comments, please share them with me. I find this idea to be incredibly entertaining but it would take me a while to actually start the fic. I'd like to at least finish the 2.7 story (at the time of writing this, that patch is not out yet) and maybe work out some kinks here and there.

Thank you for going through this silly idea of mine, mwah mwah ❤️

[jinnie-ret]

perfect night

poly!stray kids x idol!reader

genre: fluff

content warnings: none

word count: 1k

requested: @whoswony

summary: in which stray kids are watching the opening show of their girlfriend's tour, sonder, and they come to realise a song is dedicated purely to them

1K FOLLOWERS PLAYLIST 💚🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Oh how smug you felt, that a song you had written that was purely dedicated to your boys, could still be released and put onto your latest album, Sonder. Truth be told, it was masked as a song to all your 'girls' out there, about spending time with them being your most favourite thing in the world, and not needing anything else. That was how it actually made it onto the album. But you knew who you really wrote it for.

You wrote the song for Chan, who dedicated his life to protecting each of his partners and prioritising them over himself.

For Minho, who willingly let you read him like a book and get to know him because he wasn't scared of opening up to you.

For Changbin, who often indulged in late night deep conversations with you, whether they were trivial matters that you spiraled deeply into, or more serious ones that helped each of you lift the weight off of your shoulders.

For Hyunjin, whose dramatic antics yet romantic attitude always made you swoon, no matter how goofy he would suddenly become.

You wrote it for Jisung, who always managed to keep you on your toes, whether it be from him bursting into song, his sleep clinginess or his rambles about his new favourite anime that inspired him to write a song or two.

For Felix, who was your constant source of happiness, smiles radiating sunshine and reflecting his light across your shadows, forever brightening your day.

For Seungmin, your cheeky yet very emotionally intelligent partner in crime who helped you stay rational in times when all you could see was doom and gloom.

And finally for Jeongin, who always insisted his admiration for you, was levels above your own for him, because he couldn't believe that it was possible for anyone to be more adored in this world than you.

They were all you needed. And you couldn't wait to show them that, and finally be able to express that to them through the other thing you all loved - music.

-★-★-★-★-★-

Gorgeous yet eery piano notes echoed across the walls of the stadium as you made your entrance, like you were a mystical being that your fans laid their eyes upon.

"She's so hot," Jeongin sighed as he leant across the railings.

"Real," Hyunjin nodded, tongue grazing his upper lip.

"Stop perving on our girlfriend," Seungmin sighed and whacked them on the backs of their heads.

Your boyfriends were sat on an upper tier of the seating in the stadium, safely away from fans and any possible suspicions to why they were there. Luckily, if that case was ever made, fans would be sure to defend you, knowing that you and Jeongin were friends at SOPA.

If only they knew that the two of you were way more than friends. As well as his seven other band members.

Suddenly a new track they hadn't heard started playing, some calming guitar sounding out before a drum track starting kicking in and their girlfriend's poppy voice blended perfectly with the music.

"Come and take a ride with me, I got a credit card and some good company..."

"Wait, that's about us, right?" Chan's eyes widened and a big grin appeared on his face.

"She literally said her girlies," Minho said bluntly, making Chan laugh.

"We're sort of the girlies," Han shrugged.

"Yeah Jisung you do give baby girl energy to be fair," Felix laughed.

"So does Binnie," Jisung added on, smiling as their girl performed.

The fun, light-hearted choreography made you shine with your bright energy.

"I feel so proud, wahhh," Changbin held his hand over his heart, bopping along to the music much like his other boyfriends.

"Quick, let's head backstage!" Felix pushed his other boyfriends forwards down the stairs in pure excitement as the concert came to an end.

-★-★-★-★-★-

Stretched out on the sofa in your dressing room, sipping from some water, you nearly choked on your mouthful as the door burst open with eight men pouring through.

"You were so good!"

"That song was about us right?!"

"Right?!"

You giggled as you were quite literally smothered in their love, kisses being peppered across your face, your neck, your hands, swallowed up in the arms of your boyfriends.

"Yah! What if I was getting changed?" you gasped playfully as you pushed them all away.

"I wouldn't be complaining," Hyunjin smirked before getting a neck slap from Minho.

"Hey!"

And on they went playfully fighting as Chan gave you one of his hoodies he brought with him, just for you.

"Thanks love," you smiled fondly, pulling the fluffy black hoodie over your head as Jeongin tugged you into his arms.

"You really wrote a song about us?" Felix grabbed your hands to gain your attention.

"How could you tell?" you pushed your lips together, trying not to let any words spill out straight away. You'd keep them guessing just that bit longer, that was your game.

"Credit card and some good company? You literally said that to us one time," Seungmin shrugged knowingly, with shake of his head to get the hair out of his face. He had been growing it longer recently - no objections from you.

"That could just be about my friends," you feigned ignorance.

"Nah!"

"No way!"

"Hey I have friends!" you stood up, folding your arms and detesting their claims.

"We know you do, we know love," Changbin back hugged you tightly.

"But you also have us, hmm?" Minho smirked, tickling under your chin like you were one of his cats.

"And we're way better company!" Han declared, from his spot sat on top of Jeongin as he teased the younger and cooed like you all normally did with the maknae.

"I think Jeongin would disagree," you said dryly.

"I would!" the fox boy choked out, nearly sounding suffocated with distraught as he wrestled the older boy off of him.

"But you wouldn't, would you? Don't deny it, that song was for us," Seungmin pointed out.

"Mmm, sure, whatever you want to believe," you looked down at your feet shyly, knowing there was no turning back from here. They had caught you out. But you didn't mind anymore, you were happy because they were too.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @kai-lee08 @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari @skzoologist @crabrangoongirl25 @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @minholing @lilmisssona @astraysimp @j-one25

[mickandmusings]

back at the bunker

pairing: castiel x f!reader

word count: 5.1k (i got carried away sry)

summary: when y/n stays behind on a hunt, the brothers and cas figure she's safe back at the bunker, likely enjoying having a day free of her overbearing childhood friends and guardian angel boyfriend. when a phone call to dean tips them off to y/n’s kidnapping, castiel leads a ruthless hunt for the ones who took her.

based off this request! (i saw your request and ran with it.)

warnings: angsty to fluff, refusing to shorten castiel to 'cass', depictions of violence (nothing too gory), descriptions of blood and injury, angry cas, probably spn inaccuracies, unedited writing (oops)

-

"Relax, Cas, I'm gonna get you back to the bunker and to your girl quick enough. She's fine, probably took over the TV in my room to watch those girly movies she and Sam love."

Sam cuts his sharp look over to his brother, rolling his eyes as Dean tries to quell their friend's worry for his girlfriend back at the bunker. Castiel had been on edge since they began their trek back to the bunker. He had a lingering sense of doom he couldn't shake, not even after the success of their latest hunt. Cas knew he should trust Sam and Dean, and their judgement, they had known Y/N decades before she and Cas had met. They knew her well enough to know that she’d be fine alone in the well-guarded bunker. Taking out his phone, Cas pulled up her contact, smiling at the photo of them together attached to her profile. He started a new message to her:

Finished up the hunt. We’re all okay. Headed back to the bunker now.

Cas watched as the cursor waited for his next set of words. He hesitated briefly, trying to decide if he would say what he wanted. He and Y/N had been ‘dating’ (a word Cas hated, it didn’t accurately express their relationship in his eyes) for a little over a year, but he still hesitated when it came to expressing his emotions openly. His blue eyes read over the message again. Cas sighed, deleted the message completely, and started a new one:

We finished the hunt, we’re all unharmed. We’re headed home now. I miss you. I love you. Let me know you’re okay, Dean says I’m ‘panicking’ and being ‘dramatic.’

Cas sent the message without overthinking it this time, placing his phone back into his pocket and staring out the window again. Back at the bunker, Y/N looked up from the scene unfolding on (Dean’s) TV, turning to her phone that had just lit up with a new message. She smiled as she saw Cas’ contact, noted by the heart written behind his name. She read his message with a smile, his blunt but heartfelt sentences warming her chest in a sort of girlish glow. Her cheeks flushed pink as she began to type back. She was about to send her response to Cas when she heard the crashing noise downstairs. Her heart raced, hitting mute on the TV remote and reaching for the gun shoved in Dean’s nightstand. With silence filling the air now, she heard the talking of someone in what seemed to be the library. Her chest felt tight-they were close. The voices were unfamiliar-not Dean’s rasp, or Cas’ deep tone. How had anyone infiltrated? She’d made sure all the locks were secure, and the bunker was always under a supernatural lock. She calmed her racing breathing in a hope to hear the intruders conversation. The voices seemed masculine, rummaging about the library as if they were searching for something. Y/N peered over the side of the doorway, hoping to catch a glimpse of them without being seen. Two figures entered her eyesight-a tall, burly brunette, with biceps the size of melons. His sidekick was a scrawnier blonde who brandished an angel blade. Y/N shuddered-angels. She’d never had anything positive to say about most of them, always out to get her and the brothers. Castiel had always been an exception in her rules about angels.

Y/N diverted her attention to her phone as her shaky hands scrolled for Sam, Dean, or Cas’ contact. She heard a deep voice pipe up.

“You think she’s here still? Castiel could’ve tuned into angel radio, picked up some suspicion, moved her last minute.”

Y/N halted, her eyes widening. Her? Surely they weren’t talking about her. She feverishly opened her phone again, clicking Dean’s contact and letting it ring, praying he would answer. The other angel responded with a chuckle:

“No, she hasn’t moved. I have a feeling she’s about to be right in our grasp.”

Y/N didn’t even have time to gasp as the two angels appeared behind her, her entire sight fading to black in an instant.

-

In the Impala, Dean heard his ringtone sound, and he huffed as he drove with one hand and fished the device out with the other. His eyebrows raised as he looked at the name flashed across the screen.

“It’s ya girl, Cas.” Dean chuckled as he answered the phone with a snarky remark. “Alright Cinderella we’re getting your Charming there quick as poss-Y/N/N? Y/N?! HEY!”

Dean’s voice raised, concern slipping through his tone. Cas was instantly on high alert as Dean hung up the phone and stepped on the gas, making Baby push speeds far faster than the speed limit.

“Dean, what’s going on?! What did she say?!”Castiel’s voice was dangerously low, trying not to allow his nervousness seep into his words. Sam turns to his brother with a worried look painted on his face.

“She didn’t say anything, all I heard was her grunting and the sound of fighting. Someone’s attacked her. She’s in trouble, and I think I heard wings, it’s your kind, Cas.”

Cas felt anger overtake him, his protective instincts kicking in. He began dwelling on the situation at hand, mentally cursing himself. He should’ve stayed behind with her at the bunker, he could’ve protected her. What did angels want with Y/N anyway? It wasn’t like she had any information for them, Cas tried to keep her out of the angel realm as much as possible, to avoid getting her into situations like these. Perhaps he should’ve told her more, maybe she could’ve escaped.

“Cas,” Sam’s voice cut through his thoughts. “What would angels want with Y/N? She's not even on the ground with us most of the time. She doesn’t have anything for them to use.”

Castiel’s sapphire gaze was locked on the scenery passing by, speaking after Sam finished.

“She has everything. They can torture me, exile me, all but kill me and I will not fall to their whims. She is my weak spot, I would sacrifice all of man for her safety. They know that, and they’re using her to get what they want from me. What that is, I don’t know. But we will find her, and I will get her back, no matter the sacrifice.”

-

When Y/N came to, she quickly noted pain radiating everywhere. Her head pounded, arms aching from where she was tied to a chair in a dimly lit room. The flickering overhead light made her head spin, and she could feel the blood coming from her nose, the stinging of open cuts littering her face and body. She was dizzy and disoriented, but her adrenaline kept her awake. She was running through the mental checklist of her hunter training from years of running with the Winchester’s-be aware of all of your surroundings, don’t let your opponent catch you off guard, when in a fight, protect the head and vital organs as much as possible-she could practically hear Dean’s raspy drone rattling off the bullet points. Y/N didn’t know who had brought her here, or why, but she had every bet on Castiel’s feathered friends.

Her eyes scoured every inch of the grimy, abandoned room she was being held in. The roof leaked, the metal fixtures were creaky and rusted, likely due to years of just sitting empty. Y/N knew they had taken the gun she was holding back at the bunker, but they had most likely hadn’t stripped her of the knife in her pocket. It wouldn’t do much to protect her from angels, but it would get her out of these restraints. Through her clouded mind, she tried to think of a way to reach her pocket with tied hands, an intricate way to shuffle just enough to slip loose. Her thoughts halted when the metal door creaked open, her heart starting to hammer in her chest. It was the blonde angel, significantly more slimy-appearing than his brawny counterpart, and his shit-eating grin spread from one side of his face to the other.

“Ah, hello dear, seems you’ve finally waken!” His accent was thick, a Southern drawl that was sticky sweet despite his menacing gaze. “Sorry about all the roughhousin', but, well, you’re quite the sought after prize. Had to make sure we secured you without you slippin' from under us.” His mouth dropped from a wide grin to a slimy smirk, now far too close to Y/N for her liking.

“Now, I’ve got questions and you’ve got answers. It’s in your best interest to cooperate, sweet thing. Our little Castiel will come lookin' for you eventually, and I’m not too worried about returning his toys in proper condition.”

Y/N gulped but didn’t back down.

“What do you want?”

The blonde plasters on another slick smile.

“Castiel has wronged me, and now it’s time for his consequences. See, in the past, we could pick and prod at Castiel himself, or even one of those pesky Winchester brothers, and they’d take it, but give up nothing for us, no matter the torture. But you, oh darling, Castiel would burn the world to the ground to save little ole you. Let’s see just how much it takes for him to come runnin', shall we?”

Y/N had no time to protest before a sharp blade had sliced against the side of her face, causing her to yell out. In her hazy brain, she used her last ounce of energy to pray out to Cas, hoping he heard, and begging the universe to send Sam and Dean with him. After another blunt hit to the head, her world was black again.

-

Dean hardly put the Impala in park as they arrived at the abandoned warehouse they'd tracked Y/N to, gun brandished with Sam trailing behind him. Castiel had taken off on his own, angel blade and an incomprehensible fury as weapons. Dean and Sam were close on his tail, the brothers both a small bit concerned-they had never seen Castiel this angry.

The wind whipped through Castiel's coat as he all but ran through the abandoned warehouse and straight into the room where the two angels stood, Castiel's eyes blurring with anger. Dean's hand slapped his shoulder, Dean's green eyes still focused on the angels, Sam's locked on the same creatures.

"You go find her," Dean's deep timbre came to Castiel's ears. "Me and Sammy can handle these dicks."

Usually, Cas would argue, always staying behind to help Sam and Dean fight any creature, but with Y/N still hidden from him, Cas left without any remarks. Cas grew angry, his legs not carrying him through hallways of abandoned rooms fast enough.

"Y/N?!" His voice echoed off the metal fixtures, and Cas hoped it would reach the ears of the one person he was trying to find. "Y/N/N!"

"C-Cas?"

Cas could have sworn his heart stopped. His brain had stopped working as he shoved a large metal door open with all of his force, his chest nearly collapsing at the sight he found behind it: Y/N, tied to a metal chair, her face swollen, one of her eyes black. Blood was dried on her temple, and blood stained the sweatshirt she was wearing. She looked exhausted, and Cas knew she probably felt worse than she looked.

"Y/N-," Cas' voice was soft and quiet, his hands coming to both sides of her face. "You're okay, I'm here, Sam and Dean are taking those angels out. We're going to get you out of here."

Cas' hands worked quickly, unwrapping the ropes tied around her arms and legs, hoping to cause her as little pain as possible. His brain was working overtime, his eyes scanning her entire frame as he worked.

"I-I'm okay, Cas. A little banged up, but I'm fine. I-I'll be okay."

"You're not okay, honey," Cas' pet names were few and far between, but always soft and meaningful, making Y/N's heart soar. "You've taken a beating, these ropes have scarred your ankles and wrists. I'm going to get you out of here."

Cas released the ropes and picked Y/N up under her arms, feeling her body weight fall on him.

"I-I'm sorry, Cas. I don't-don't think I can walk."

Cas shook his head, lifting her into his arms bridal style and pushing the door with his feet, rushing her through the building as quickly as possible.

"None of that, you're going to be fine. We're getting out of here, back to the Impala."

By the time Cas made it back to the center room, the angels had been slaughtered-their bodies lying on the floor. Dean and Sam stood in front of them, now looking at Cas.

"Is she alright?" Sam's voice echoes through the room.

"She'll be alright," Cas' voice replied. "We need to get out of here."

Dean nodded in agreement, leading the group back out to the Impala. Sam quickly swung open the back door of the car as Dean moved to start it, hoping to make a quick getaway. The Impala was silent-Y/N's head resting peacefully on Cas' chest, her eyes drooping in exhaustion. Cas' hand moved to her forehead, his grace lighting up the dark car as her cuts and bruises began to disappear. The light caught both Sam and Dean's attention as Y/N looked up at Cas and gave him a small smile before resting back into his chest.

"You alright back there, Y/N/N?" Dean's voice filled the silent car.

"Fine. Thank you, Dean. You too, Sam. I never would've made it out of there without you coming after me."

"You're family, Y/N," came Sam's voice. "We'd never leave you like that."

Y/N smiled against Cas' chest, slowly closing her eyes and falling asleep as his hand ran through her hair.

-

Back at the bunker, Sam and Dean worked together to put back all of the furniture that had been thrown about, putting books back into place before retiring to their own bedrooms.

Cas sat quietly on Y/N's bed, borrowing some of Sam and Dean's clothes as his coat and usual wear were in the wash. Moments later, Y/N returned, hair wet from the shower as she smiled at Cas, sitting on the bed next to him. She slid under the covers, sliding into his open arms. Y/N relaxed into Cas' embrace, kissing the underside of his jaw before falling asleep with her head tucked under his chin.

Cas' had no need for sleep, so he spent the entire night looking after her, making sure she slept soundly. Halfway through the night, he felt her begin to toss and turn, her breathing quickening, signaling as signs of a nightmare. Cas wakes her softly, shaking her shoulders as her eyes popped open, staring up at him. She said nothing before her bottom lip wobbled, fear grasping her every sense.

"Hey, hey," Cas' voice was a quiet whisper, his arms enveloping Y/N completely as her tears stained his shirt. "You're at the bunker, I'm here, Sam and Dean are down the hall. You're safe."

Y/N felt herself relax in his hold, grasping the fabric of his shirt, just to remind herself he was real, that nothing would touch her as long as he was here. Y/N felt her eyes start to close again, the emotional exhaustion of the day weighing on her. Just as she slips into a dream state, she feels Cas' faint kiss on her forehead, another act of warmth to make her comfortable. She slept soundly through the night, knowing her guardian angel was watching over her.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Saving Grace | Rhysand x Reader

Summary: The war between humans and Fae is about to happen, and you, desperate to save Autumn Court, your home, from the destruction to come, are going to attempt a political alliance with the current High Lord of Night Court’s son, Rhysand.

Word Count: ~ 2k

Warnings: toxic family, political marriage, Beron being annoying, nothing too bad

A/N: the notes you see in the beginning are from another outside character you will meet more later, not me. im trying out something new for this series, so lmk what you think and how you’d want it to go in the future (FOR ALL THE RHYS GIRLIES I SEE YOU) hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

It starts anew, as any other tale would.

It is only fair for me to warn you now, that even as I write to you from the box of my new home, the solitary walls pushing in on me until I turn into something else, something new and changing, that you should not proceed.

Our doom was set into place the moment we opened that letter, and so I’ll give you another warning, my dear reader.

You have more power than you think. Be careful how you use it.

~

“I believe you’ll enjoy the letter on your desk, sister.”

Eris spoke in a dry tone, only a hint of his hidden flamboyance underneath the snake's skin he wore most of the time. He had just passed by you in the hallway of the grand palace we called our home in the Autumn Court, something most of the royal family took for granted, even I did to an extent.

Even makeup and magic couldn’t hide the effects that the looming war had on him, the bags under his eyes slightly visible, and the usual cunning spark in his fiery gaze dimmed to some degree. All of your brothers had experienced the same thing to some point, even Lucien.

The rumors were getting worse, and word breaking free everywhere if the human slave revolts. You saw the glimmer in the eyes of the humans that your father enslaved and forced to work here, and even though you could never say it, lest you be beheaded or worse, you thought it was about time their species stood up. You couldn’t imagine being forced into such cruel conditions and not doing anything about it.

Submission never came easily to you, though.

It still doesn’t.

You tried to smile up at Eris, even as he strode past without another word. Relationships in this family were rough, considering how the males just tried to take each other out with every given opportunity. Had you not been born a female, you might’ve suffered the same fate.

You couldn’t help but wonder what the letter on my desk could be, even as you walked to my room. It could be anything, from lunch with a friend, to an opening for a job opportunity anywhere you could help. You wanted to help people, help your struggling Court pull itself together with war on the horizon. Rumor had it that the mortal king, Hybern, was gathering his forces still and that he wouldn’t let go of any of his slaves. Not even one.

Pushing open your already ajar room door, you strode quickly over to the desk, still a bit cluttered from all the different things our mind was trying to think about at the same time while working and writing letters to friends and allies in neighboring courts.

A letter lay on your desk, and not just any letter, but a valuable one, based on the stamp and rich, violet wax that shimmered slightly.

A Night Court stamp.

Considering Night Court wasn’t the closest ally, if an ally at all with Autumn Court, you weren't exactly sure what it meant at the time, or why Eris thought you might be excited about it. How would he even know what was in it, now that you thought of it?

You grabbed the cold metal letter opener, sliding it neatly under the wax, and popping it off satisfyingly. Sliding the warm parchment from its sheath, you unfolded the letter, the details of it surprising you.

The High Lord of Night Court had delivered a letter personally to you, and the contents of it? Nothing but strange.

In short, it was a formal invitation to a Solstice Party, a night where you’d heard that supposedly other spirits would cross over the night sky, making a beautiful scene for all those able to witness it. However, the true reason became apparent at the bottom, where a single sentence blasted holes through all of the male’s fake formality and politeness in the previous statements.

“I’m certain that you and my son would get along quite well.”

An alliance. A political marriage.

That was what he wanted.

To strengthen his alliances while he could before the war began, and to blast away any humans standing in their path. His son might as well have been in on it for all you knew, probably willing to marry you and produce an heir, treating you like breeding cattle. You’d heard rumors of Illyrians before, and they weren’t pretty. Especially not the ones who lived in the mountains.

But the real question was, why would he send it to you, and not your father?

Was it a test? A way to test the boundaries and see if you would go tattle to your father at the littlest prod? Or maybe a way to see how far you were willing to go to ensure the safety of your court during this war.

You didn’t believe in slavery. You never had. But for your court, your home, and all the other courts as well to possibly be destroyed by unruly humans? That would be disastrous. Their species didn’t stand a chance, anyway. Not when they had inferior strength, weapons, and not a lick of magic.

But still…in the case that they did manage something, the reassurance of an alliance between your courts could help.

The only question was whether to involve your father or not. If you did, he would probably refuse to trade you away for an alliance with Night Court, waiting for a better deal from a people that had more items to trade or land to offer. Sure, Night Court had the most land and soldiers, but there were little to no trade routes running openly through the area, leaving little economic profit other than what they earned on their own. The Illyrian Steppes were too harsh for anyone to handle, and Hewn City could barely be counted as an economy it was so small.

In that small moment, you made a decision that would change both of our existences, the decision to hide it. Your father wouldn’t understand, and you were doing this for the better of your court. You were doing it to help him, to save your people from what you suspected to be carnage ahead.

You didn’t realize you’d been staring at the letter for so long until you heard your door creak a bit wider open, and you immediately whirled, putting the letter face down onto your desk. Lucien cocked a brow, his hazel eyes immediately going to the letter in what looked like suspicion.

“Hiding something?”

He asked, and you rolled your eyes, biting your lip slightly in what looked to be an expression of a flustered female.

“I don’t think you’d like to read the letters of my most recent lover, Luci.”

His expression immediately changed, going to being a bit caught off guard himself, before he shook his head. He gestured for you to follow him, and before you did, you slipped the letter between the small crack of the shelf and the desk itself. He only gave you a withering glance at that, and you glared back.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else finding it. Imagine if Beron found it.”

You said in a wry tone, and Lucien let out an undignified snort at that while he led you down to the dining hall, the first bit of laughter you’d managed to coax out of him in a while. You must’ve lost track of time while thinking, a common habit of yours.

“Yes, I don’t think he’d appreciate a letter from one of your notorious lovers.”

He said in a quieter tone, probably not wanting anyone else to overhear. Rumors of the royal family spread too quickly for their good, especially when the human servants were paid by others, sometimes journalists, to spill the drama.

Most of it, of course, was made up simply to get money, but sometimes…the rumors were true enough to make you be a lot more secretive with what you did and displayed in public, and even behind closed doors. Eyes and ears were everywhere, after all.

“Notorious is a strong word.”

You mumbled in an amused tone, right as you entered the dining room, your father at the head of the table, your mother to his left, Eris to his right, and all your other brothers seated miscellaneously. Lucien sat down in his spot, and you sat in yours that was beside his, your other brother to your right.

“I’m glad you finally decided to join us, Y/N.”

Your father’s monotonous but still annoyed voice rang out from the head of the table as he began to eat, signaling everyone else could as well. You stabbed a potato with your fork, taking a small bite to give yourself time to formulate a coherent response to it, something that you could use to distract from the letter you’d gotten. Unless…

Swallowing your food, you spoke.

“I received a letter.”

The sentence alone was a challenge. The normal response would be a formal apology for your tardiness to dinner, which was more like an event you had to attend than any family activity. You didn’t go on, another challenge. Making him wait for you to speak.

The silence grew oppressive, and you continued eating. Your brothers watched, some openly staring in confusion, Eris only glancing once with something of a warning in his eyes, and Lucien stared down at his plate, probably already having figured out that the letter he’d seen you hide hadn’t been one from a lover.

Your mother then pinned you with her sharp gaze, the intelligence behind her submissive figure clear in the moment. Even if your father wasn’t smart enough to see it like you did.

“What did it contain?”

She asked, intervening between you and your father. Your father didn’t so much as glance at her, now scowling and staring at you. You put your fork down on your napkin, swallowing a mouthful of delicious food before speaking again.

“I’ve been invited to Night Court.”

You spoke, looking up to meet your father’s gaze, unwavering. He seemed to tense at that, and the news you’d shared with him.

“Why.”

He demanded, his eyes narrowing.

“For the prospect of seeking out an alliance in your stead. Though with the coming war, it might be my last chance to see Night Court at all.”

Everyone tensed at that, your casual but realistic words hitting right where they should’ve. Reminding everyone of the insecurity in the court, that the coming war could kill you, or take out Night Court. The latter Beron wouldn’t mind, but the former…you were a valuable trading piece for him, one that he didn’t want to dispose of through your possibly untimely demise.

Beron swallowed, sighing through his nose as he broke his stare to glance down at his plate, clearly considering it. Eris then spoke up.

“If I may, she has a point, father. An alliance with the Night Court and their considerable armies could prove useful during the battle to come.”

He spoke, glancing over at you with a clear look of “You had better know what you’re doing.” You didn’t know why he was helping you, considering he’d probably looked inside the letter. His words to you, that you would enjoy the letter, only supported that theory. For whatever reason he wanted you to go into Night Court wasn’t clear, but he was helping you nonetheless.

Beron finally spoke, everyone holding their breath.

“Very well. You will remain there 2 months at most, but at any hint of attack, you will return here immediately.”

You gave a dip of your head in obedience and appreciation, before going back to your dinner as the tension remained in the room. You had told your father of the alliance prospect, but nothing of a political marriage. A half-truth at best.

You were going to Night Court, to woo the heir to the throne and convince him to marry you for an alliance, all in time to save your Court before the first attack came.

The real question was, would you be quick enough?

We’ll see.

[babyangelsky]

My Favorite Expressions in Love Sea Ep. 9

Holy shit I don't think I have ever felt more relieved watching the penultimate episode of a Thai BL than I did this week. I was expecting doom, I was expecting gloom, and while both were absolutely present, we did not linger there.

This is just my opinion but to me that alone is proof of how much Mame has grown as a writer because for a second there I was fearing another Don't Say No situation.

BUT THIS AIN'T ABOUT THAT LET'S YAP ABOUT MICROEXPRESSIONS

I need to start with my baby because after the horrors last week, seeing her smile means everything to me. Gotta hold onto it as long as I can because we all know what's coming.

And speaking of smiles, this situation is TERRIBLE there are delinquents coming at my man with 2x4's but this feral smile from Mahasamut?

This one is purely for Meena's benefit, to comfort and reassure her but it is genuine, Fort's eyes are very sparkly. He switches gears very quickly when the getaway bike arrives for the thugs though so however chill he seems, he absolutely isn't. He just wants to keep the baby (and Vivi and her friend) calm.

It's very disconcerting to see Vivi this serious.

We're 2/2 on smiles for other people's benefit. My poor girly.

*stares at Viviana* You did this.

This look of pure murderous intent may be one of my favorite expressions Mut has had over this whole show, especially because it's paired with that clenched fist. And I'm going to give extra praise to Fort for it because he doesn't clench his fist until after Tongrak apologizes for what happened and he doesn't open his eyes until his hand is practically trembling from holding it so tightly.

This response doesn't come when Rak tries to blame himself for the beating; it happens when he apologizes for it. Mut isn't angry in the abstract and he isn't angry at Rak, he's angry for him.

I don't like this face, Khun Tongrak. I actually had a moment where I thought to myself, "why can't I read your face right now?" and of course it's deliberate on Peat's part. Even without knowing what we know from the preview, this face would have told us that Something was about to happen.

Or maybe that's just me, I don't know. I've been staring very hard at Peat's face for the past two months.

Watching Tongrak desperately try to steel his nerve after entering the snake pit that is his sperm donor's house is heartbreaking.

As much as I hate to subject you (and myself) to more of Jak's face, I'd like to point out that like last week, his face is in shadow while the face of the person he's speaking to, in this case Tongrak, is catching the light. Also worth noting that Rak's back is quite literally against the wall in this scene.

We see this play with light/shadow again when Rak has a flashback of him from his childhood. Jak has always been a vile, psychopathic snake and his true feelings and intentions have always been hidden behind shadow.

It's horrible to say because there's so much anguish behind it but this is such a beautiful expression. There's a split second where he tries to look angry but it just doesn't work.

I think there's a tiny part of Tongrak that truly believed that tearing up the contract would be what made Mahasamut leave and on the flip side of that, a part that was afraid that the contract was truly the only thing making Mut stay.

GODDAMN THIS IS THE SEXIEST THING MAHASAMUT HAS EVER SAID ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

For people like Tongrak and for people who can relate to Tongrak in the sense that one or more of the parents we pulled in the great gacha of life are horrible and shitty, there comes a moment where you realize that they aren't actually these huge indestructible monsters. They're human.

And when you realize that and look at them, it's like you're seeing for the first time. There's a weird sort of pity and whatever the opposite of awe is that you feel that's hard to describe. It's a feeling of "...Is that really it? Is that all there is to you?"

That is what Peat is portraying so incredibly in this scene.

BLINDING LIGHT OF LOVE LET'S GOOOOOOO

WILD HORSES, YA'LL! WILD FUCKING HORSES!

Pouty Tongrak face, as a treat.

Mook and Mahasamut were talking about Tongrak and what Mut would do if he got rejected when all was said and done, but Mook's face when Mut says he would accept the rejection tells me she's also thinking about herself and Vivi.

I actually really wish she would've talked to Mut about it directly because god knows girly pop needs to talk to someone about Vivi. Or better yet, Vivi herself.

As for the preview next week, do not even sweat it babes because you know what?

THERE ARE COLORFUL PATTERNS ON TONGRAK'S BODY!

I LOVE GETTING EVERYTHING I WANT!

[amara555555]

He’s lonely, I can fix that~

Gun Drabble~

Mimi:

Goo’s eyes couldn’t pop out more. He looked the demon from smile just standing there, waiting for someone to pluck out the balls like mr potato head.

Gun was picking out tiny tutus. Like the most tiniest tutus and biggest bows that would combine over his and Goo’s head and still have space for 2 more heads.

He finally asked.

“Watcha got there?”

He tries to as casual as he’s humanely possible. Gun turns around with attitude.

“Why do you care?”

Goo scowls.

“You’re holding a tutu! Who’s that for??”

Gun rolled his eyes.

“No one”.

Goo scoffed.

“My ass. You got a love child eh?”

Gun grimaced. Wrong answer.

“……your gonna put that on your d-“

Gun throws a rack of clothes at him.

———/-//———————-

Goo took in the interior of the shop they stood in. Pastels of every colour along with pet collars along the walls. Some fluffy, bells, bows, diamonds, leather, metal- but Goo just wanted to know why and what was Gun doing in a girly ass shop like this? One he wouldn’t be caught dead naked in????

Gun picked a light pastel pink fluffy collar with tiny pearls. And a pink bell.

Goo’s eye twitched and he rubbed over his glasses as Gun stepped up to the counter to pay.

“…..you a pastel dominatrix dear ole pal?”

Gun threw the cash register at Goo-

—————————————

Goo’s head rested in his palm as Gun walked with a pink holster leash. It was lengthened with glitter, gems, and hearts.

He grinds his jaw as Gun took a seat and sent him a look.

“What?”

Goo blinked and pointed at the leash.

“That for me?”

Gun slaps Goo-

———————————

Goo tried to peek over at Gun’s phone who held it in a special angle of privacy. Goo huffed and puffed in silent before Gun was called away by Charles.

He watched Gun go before double taking in noticing his phone still on the table.

A sinister smile creator up his cheeks before he snatched it and giddily logged on by using Gun’s password of ‘Shiro Oni.’

His smile dropped in noticing the large the page that popped in his face of Pinterest. With cats and Tutus.

He started doom scrolling on Gun’s favourites before a shadow dimmed his vision and he turned to see the black scleras and white pupils of a very pissed off Gun park.

“……wh-“

Gun punched Goo’s head in.

——————————————

Goo couldn’t take it anymore. He knew he hadn’t been over to Gun’s place in ages but COME ON! What could’ve been so different that he’s buying socks out a 8 year old girls store?

Goo’s head was still cladded in a bandage as he zoomed down Gun’s junkyard and aimed straight for his shack.

“Oh sweet pea~ daddy’s home-“

He barges through the door and Gun’s there.

Holding the most girly, accessorised, expensive, pampered, beautiful, long fluffy tail, rag doll kitten he’s ever seen.

Her big blue eyes and long white thick coat of fur was currently being dried with a hair dryer and Gun’s gaze was of pure fury.

Meanwhile the cat looked to her dad before reaching up with her paws to press her-??!

“YOU GOT THE SOCKS FOR A CAT?!”

Goo finally connected the dots. The bows, the leash, the tutus, socks, food, treats, bows, fluffy collars, bells, pink bows, toys, BOWS……..were all for this tiny cat???????

Gun eyes burned holes through Goo before he pecked his cat and let her roam the floor. She settled on her paws before gently shaking herself out and Goo almost ugly cried from cuteness.

Her fluffy tiny body clad in a tiny pink tutu, her paws clad in tiny pink socks, a enormous bow behind her head, her fluffy pink collar rang its bell when she shook her head, and a tiny clip just under her ear and above her eye.

“Here baby-“

Gun punched Goo through a car.

————————————

They both sat bloodied and sticky as the sun hung over the the junk of the yard as they shared a bottle of soju.

Gun sipped his gently as the cat nestled herself in his lap. Goo looked over at her before scratching behind her ears.

“She got a name?”

Gun looked down at her before scratching under her chin, her purrs vibrates through the silence of the sunset.

“Mimi.”

[idliketobeatree]

dead boy detectives characters as art objects and sculptures; extended ---

hello, i remembered i made some subjective explanations and notes on few of my choices for this post, and i thought some folks might enjoy it. soo let's get into it.

1.

monty finch

author: anders krisár

pretty self-explanatory; it's a moulded male torso with visible inprints on its skin.

anders krisár’ artistry explores the themes of loss, separation, and the condition of the psyche through the lens of a human body in duality: perfectionism meets unsettlement, skin meets marble and bronze and polyester, to create sculptures spanning geological time far beyond the living's capabilities.

monty's creation by esther was already stripped of any human agency. "he was made a boy, not a person", small, almost doll-sized, with a singular purpose: to seduce and entice the chosen dead boy into their doom. the naked skin and specifically the position of its arms are mildly erotic, but in a way that makes your skin crawl. the imprints are intimate, placed possesive; notice the thumbs digging close to especially sensitive areas like nipples and the belly button.

the latter seems to connect the "creator" to the subject, the navel here as a symbol of cruel, invasive motherhood. the fact that the torso is cut off in the middle and at the neck furthers the uncanny valley feeling of a young male body, but then again. this is a realistic portrayal. so was it ever a person? what does it have inside to make dents so profound? how deep you can press until it breaks?

--- i'm leaving out crystal and edwin (for now?), but @nicheoverhere brilliantly noticed that it was the same author for both. that was intentional! because glen martin taylor is all about taking kintsugi, which is a beautiful art form of repairing fine china and generally delicate things with veins of precious metals, but with materials like— nails. scissors. barbed wire. all ugly. the repair after a great shattering is seldom pretty after all, they really are similar in this regard. ---

2.

charles rowland

author: robert hudson

okay, strap in. this funky dreamy world belongs to robert hudson, and i picked it for charles rowland because it's all first impressions. the colours? the composition? they give you the 80s vibes, almost; like something a kid would design if you asked them what a time machine would look like. it could probably move in several ways. the pieces seem mismatched, but hold themselves together surprisingly well. or maybe you underestimate it?

it's neither big nor small. you can't tell its size at all. it's a bit overwhelming to look at, at first, and at second, and after a while, but it carries that comfortable familiarity and nostalgia for— well, nothing in particular, because the longer you look, the sadder its past seems. the bold pops of contrasting colour are fighting for your attention. they want you to like it! and yet, the major material seems to be just. rusted steel. made from tools.

and look at that botched up sphere, it wants so badly to be a perfect sphere and it knows it'll never be one. fine!! perhaps it could be a football ball instead! or maybe a head. if you close your eyes, that is. and this facing-up horseshoe? a lucky charm, made to collect good luck and keep it from falling out cause god, it needs it.

---

3.

niko sasaki

author: justin cloud

---

niko sasaki, now how do i describe her? let's start by saying— she's cleary a her. this one is a she. and there's something to be said about blooming, and femininity, and delicacy, because pink is a hopeful girly colour and a surprise and a delight.

what are you doing in a gallery, little flower, shouldn't you be at home? in a field? look how pretty you are! mind you, of course there's something wrong with her as well, but you're not sure if that is because someone messed it up, or because of a different entity alltogether. was it always half-electric? its elegance seems purposeful— the iridescent metal fits all too well with the white-pink petals— but also uncanny. and oh suddenly you can't stop looking at the stigma from which a pollen should release aaany time now.

when i look at her, at her black artificial stem and the small leaves imitating the real ones, i wonder if she doesn't want to lure me into a trap. is it her fault?

the beautiful petals seem like the only thing left real of the flower. whichever way she turns, it will probably mean— death. and flowers are ephemeral. what is a flower mounted to a wall, fortified with steel, connected with cables and enfused with electrical energy, then?

i think she's a self-preserving survivor. ---

4.

the night nurse

author: elizabeth turk

---

now. the night nurse.

of course it's the only piece in the collection where the background needed to be dark. no one here is older than her. there is no inoffensive, fading-into-background white for this absolute pillar of truth. or maybe something like a totem, quite protective in nature. and it's terrifying, 'cause you're immediately hit with the feeling that you're looking at something out of this realm, something you're not supposed to witness. the perspective is all wrong. is it downwards or upwards? why does it seem unstable when the pieces are so perfectly centered and seemingly well-balanced? child, you should calm down, it's not like you will destroy it with a stronger puff of air. will you?

this sculpture is called "tipping point — echoes of extinction", and it's actually a mix of technology and sculpture and sound, with elegant visualizations of the lost voices of birds and sea mammals. the author said it "was conceived in reverence to the astounding lives the species which envelop humans have lived and the mysterious ways they have contributed to our well-being. the shadows of their memory, whether a shape or a sound, have inspired this project." so the piece deals with death. moreover, it deals with murder. it records the harsh reality and makes sure the ones that suffered horribly at the hands of humans are, in a way, celebrated. but also— categorised. like epitaphs. the birdsong, once a living sign, is only visually represented by the lines of varying lenghts in 3D, and you can do nothing about it anymore, right, you can't bring back the dead, you can't help the innocent dying in any way other than— stacking them on top of each other and moving on.

---

so that's for now, i might someday write more if anyone's curious. :")

[drenched-in-sunlight]

"Marika becomes the sum of all the Fromsoft girlies" is nice but you forgot Nashandra who actually has parallels with Marika! Recommending to check it out, she's cool!

let’s get this out of the way now… I love DS2, I think the vibe and gameplay is immaculate and I’ll defend it as a whimsical and enjoyable videogame experience till the end of time.

But my god, I hate how they handle female characters in that one 💀

In fact, I don’t like how they handle female characters in DS franchise in general. It got a bit better in Bloodborne and Sekiro and especially AC6, but overall ever since I started playing Fromsoft game in 2020, my main gripe with them is they only have 2 tropes to shoehorn their female character into: helpless victim of a system that would mangle and exploit them OR serious sword lady. And if I’m being real, it’s the main gripe I have with Elden Ring base game too?

I didn’t discuss it on tumblr because back then I were still trying to keep this blog art-focused, but when the game came out in 2022, I did express my concern on twitter that I found the female characters cast… strangely lacking. Because I went into the game expecting Ema-level of writing (literally Sekiro’s Ema is one of the best female characters Fromsoft has ever written to this day I could and have talked ppl’s ears off about her. And I’m glad she on her own is very different from Marika. That means they could at least write 2 more types of female characters now the bar is on the floor but I’ll take it and cherish what I have), but it felt like they got reset back to DS franchise with ER base game.

(This has an added layer of me being a girl born, raised and lived in a Sinosphere country that is entrenched in Confucius values just like Japan, so yes I do understand and experience firsthand the underlying culture values that shapes their writing. Hell, I live and study postgraduate in Japan for 2 years too).

But we are going off track, this is about DS2. Now, my problem with DS2 is, see, with 1 or 3, the female characters either have very little agency or no agency at all. And it just…. be like that. The male characters are somewhat the same, so it really doesn’t bother me that much. The cool, unique, not sexualized design is enough. But 2?

2 has a lot of female characters…. who either play no role in the world setting or sinister figures that charm men and bring ruins to kingdoms? What?

(Before anyone says “but Lucatiel—” Lucatiel is the beacon of light in that game, yes, but at the same time her purpose centering around her brother is… also a problem I have with the way they handle Malenia’s story. My Fromsoft experience has lore to it as well jfc)

Like, it’s just ??? to me half of those women have no agency or backstory whatsoever apart from being the Dark’s daughters that would bring doom everywhere they go??? You can say everything wrong in DS2 world is their fault and I actually wouldn’t have much to argue. Actually, it’s interesting you bring up Nashandra because I do think Nashandra has parallel in Elden Ring. But not to Marika.

Nanaya.

That’s who reminds me of Nashandra in Elden Ring. Literally the mysterious, lowkey nefarious lady and her old man husband with questionable dynamic DS2 trope 🧍‍♀️ you can actually see that in their name too.

If I have to pick a character in DS franchise specifically to make parallel to Marika, it’ll always be Gwynevere. Because I honestly think it’s amazing they took a character that has the least amount of agency they’ve ever created, and turned the core concept of her (warmth, healing spells, sunlight, mother, daughter, queen, faith) into another character with actual good writing.

That’s why I didn’t include Nashandra in my previous post. Not because I don’t know about her. It’s because I know.

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 31: A/B/O with Cooper Howard/The Ghoul

Pairing: Alpha!Cooper Howard/The Ghoul X Omega!Fem!Reader Word Count: 4119 Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics (and everything that entails), P in V, Mean!Cooper to Soft!Cooper, Mention of Cannon typical violence, Fingering (F receiving), Doggy style, Pet names.

Kinktober 2024 Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

Traveling with Cooper isn’t what one would call easy or simple.

The man has a metric shit-ton of enemies, half of which have very valid reasons to hate him.

In the roughly five months you two have traveled together, a partnership born of convenience and a little bit of necessity, though he’d never admit to needing you, you have been shot at, and actually shot once, stabbed, blown up, and irradiated once when he forgot that walking through a radstorm wasn’t something humans can safely do.

Yet somehow you find yourself not hating him, especially when he actually seems to feel bad for all those instances, only half of which were actually his fault.

At first, he just offered lame apologies, but after the first month he started taking it upon himself to patch you up, his strong scent filling your nose and making your skin prickle.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t drawn to him, and not just for all the ‘nature’ reasons. He wasn’t hard on the eyes, and when he wasn’t being an asshole, he wasn’t so bad, funny even.

Oh yea, that’s the other part.

He’s an Alpha.

And you an Omega.

Not that he knows that bit about you, which is by design as you take great strides to keep your secondary gender hidden, not just from him but from everyone.

Being an Omega in a semi-safe town is dangerous enough, but being an Omega that travels a lot is practically a death sentence.

You suppose that’s why your family of Alpha’s and Beta’s kicked you out when you presented as a teen. It’s a miracle that nothing has happened since then.

Cooper however is under the impression that you’re just a jumpy Beta.

Every time you two get to a town, you split off to go on the hunt for suppressants. Post-war ones work best, but pre-war ones were just as good in a pinch.

This was one such day.

You had run out a week ago, and seeing as you’ve been on them pretty much 24/7 for your entire adult life it means you can already feel the heat of impending doom on the back of your neck.

Cooper walked ahead of you a couple paces, not for any reason other than him being taller and not caring if you fall behind, you’ll catch up eventually.

The rickety metal gates of the town, “Saintstown” the sign on top of it reads, open as you approach and Cooper doesn’t hesitate to walk in, the guards eyeing the pair of you warily.

Once inside the Ghoul turned and threw a small pouch at you. “Get us more food while you go chem hunting or whatever it is you do…” He grumbled, not looking at you, but rather as his gloved hand as he adjusted the material lazily.

After the first two times he watched you get fidgety before getting to a town to disappear and come back cool as a radcumber, he started to assume you were just a functional junkie, which wasn’t necessarily wrong.

He wasn’t one to judge, he was worse than you could ever be.

The man was a walking pharmacy with all the shit in his system on the average day.

“Uh, right.” You managed as you nearly fumbled the pouch, the rattle of caps inside. “Any preferences?”

He lifted the space where a brow would be if he had them as if to say, “What do you think?”

Right, he doesn’t give a shit. Ass-jerky, case and point.

Nodding, you turned and walked away in search of the market, thankfully there were signs posted pretty much everywhere.

Finding the local doctor wasn’t hard, he had a small booth and a locked chest with a big red cross painted on it.

“I need meds.” You said as you approached.

“Gonna have to be a lot more specific, girly.” He answered as he used a filthy rag to clean a scalpel.

Leaning in you lowered your voice. “I need suppressants. As many as you can spare.”

His eyes finally flicked over to you, looking you up and down carefully. He was older, probably in his 50s, and seemed the caring type if a bit bored. “When was the last time you rode out a heat?” He asked as he stood and came closer so you wouldn’t have to strain to hear each other.

You gnawed at your lip and looked away like a child that knows she’s about to be scolded. “A few years.” You answered and he sighed.

“You need to take a break; these things are going to hurt you.” He warned but turned to the chest anyway.

“I know. But it’s not really an option right now.” Your answer was frustrated but more at the situation rather than his warning. You were well aware of the dangers.

The lid of the chem chest creaked as it opened and he reached in, moving a couple things around before pulling out a small stack of metal tins and coming back to you.

“How long will you be in town?” He asked, looking at you over his cracked glasses.

You sighed. “I think you can understand why I’m not about to answer that question.” You said with a lifted brow.

He nodded and held out the stack of tins. “Twenty caps per tin, 50 pills per tin.”

Your heart dropped. That would set you up for months, but you only had enough caps for one tin. The temptation to use the caps Cooper gave you was strong, but that was a bad idea.

That money was for food, and he would be able to tell if there were too few caps for too little food.

“I can only afford one.” You said as you pulled your own cap bag out.

The doctor nodded and set the extras aside as he waited for you to count out his pay.

The trade off was made and you shoved the tin into your duster pocket until you could pack it safely into your backpack.

“If you come across more caps, these’ll still be here.” He said with a sympathetic look before turning away to return the meds to the chest.

“Thanks.” You said before going on your way.

Getting the food was easy, there were several vendors with preserved food and packaged goods for sale, and with some scrap left from your travels you were able to barter for a good deal on the provisions.

Finding Cooper again wasn’t hard, he stood out.

A tall, imposing, mean looking Ghoul is a bit hard to miss in a town of humans that skittered around like they expected him to lash out at any moment.

They weren’t wrong but still.

He was lounging at a table outside what looked like the local eatery, a beer in one hand and his hat hung in front of his eyes.

As you approached you were nearly knocked on your ass by a kid running into you.

Shoving the kid back from you carefully, so as not to knock him down, you looked down at his filthy face. “Watch it, kid.” You warned sternly, he should be happy it was you and not Cooper he ran into.

“Sorry!” Then he was gone.

“Get what we came for?” Cooper asked as he appeared in front of you.

“Yeah. Hope you like Pork and Beans. It was the cheapest thing I could find.” You answered as you tossed him the cap pouch.

He caught it without looking, cocky bastard, and nodded. “Good. Let’s get outta here.” Then he was turning back to the gates and making long strides, not bothering to make sure you were following.

“‘Let’s stay the night, kid’” You muttered, mimicking his voice. “‘Nah, Coop, let’s get back on the road. We got shit to do.’” You said in your own voice. “‘If you’re sure’. ‘I’m sure.’”

“You gonna keep talking to yourself like a batshit or are you comin?” He called over his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah…” You grumbled as you sped up your gait.

He walked until long after dark, and the town was far behind you, barely a speck on the horizon behind you.

When you finally stopped for the night, you felt feverish and clammy, assumably from all the time spent in the blistering wasteland sun.

The old Red Rocket station he chose for the night was thankfully mostly intact, even had glass still in the windowsills, so barricading the doors was an easy enough task that took barely twenty minutes, and by the time you were done, Cooper had a fire made to stave off the chill of the night.

Exhaustion hit you hard as soon as you settled across the fire from him, and sleep wasn’t going to be fought this time, so you laid down against your pack and let yourself fall asleep, knowing Cooper would be taking first watch either way.

He never lets you take first watch.

Who knows how many hours later, you woke to the feeling of your skin burning and for a moment you feared you’d rolled into the fire, till you felt that telltale twisting in your belly.

Fuck.

With sweating hands, you reached into your duster to the pocket you had tucked it into and found said pocket completely empty.

Flicking your duster open you looked down into it with wide eyes, breaths picking up as you confirmed that it was indeed empty, but before you started to really panic you reached into the opposite pocket and only found your cap bag and a few loose bullets.

Had you already put it in your pack and forgotten?

Reaching for your pack you started digging, trying not to look too freaked out, knowing Cooper would still be awake sitting across from you, but that went out the window as you found only your normal supplies in the bag.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck…” You whimpered, heat rising on your neck, sweat beading on your forehead.

“Lose your new stash?” Coopers voice was like a rock through glass, sounding teasing and maybe a little smug.

“Shut up.” You snapped as you looked around at the ground where you’d been laying, maybe you dropped it while you slept.

He hummed at your response. “Desperation ain’t a good look on you, Sweetheart.” He said, tilting his head as he watched you search.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t care about looking good for you.” You snapped, too busy freaking out.

When could you have lost it?

Then it hit you. The kid.

“That little shit!” You hissed, kicking your backpack in anger.

Even if you could convince him to go back to the town, you didn’t have enough caps for more, and even the doctor wasn’t going to be nice enough to give you a discount.

And you were pretty sure you didn’t have that kind of time anyway, not with the way you felt like you were on fire.

Cooper sighed in annoyance. “Christ, if I’d known this was what you were like without your fix, I never woulda let you come with me.” He grumbled.

“Yeah, that’s not the only reason.” You said without thinking, but your words snapped you into a different panic as soon as you heard them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, sitting up from his previously lounged position.

“Nothing.” You said quickly, looking away from him, trying to act like you were still looking for your lost property.

Behind you, you heard him get up. “What is that supposed to mean?” His voice was slowly getting closer, a step with each word, and you felt your hair stand on end, both because his scent was so strong in your nose right now, and because his voice was like smooth pebbles in your ears.

Danger, but every part of you was drawn to it.

Your breaths were fast as you turned to look at him. He was only a couple of inches away from you.

And judging by the look on his face, he didn’t need you to answer anymore.

He could smell you now.

“You tellin me you’re a fucking Omega?” He growled and you whimpered.

You’re not sure if it was in fear or arousal.

Words lodged in your throat as you looked up at him.

And before you could force them from your lips, he had you by the throat and pressed against the wall.

“Were you ever going to say anything about it? Or were you planning on just going into fucking heat during a firefight?” He asked through gritted teeth.

Your brain felt like it was burning, and all you could think about was how his hand felt on your neck, and how he smelled, and how close he was to you.

“I’m sorry…” You whimpered, tears welling in your eyes and falling when his grip tightened, and your eyes squeezed shut. “I had it under control…”

His lips twitched down as he watched you cower before him, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Yeah, till you went and got robbed.” He hissed.

He looked like he was trying not to breathe too much.

“You’re going into fucking heat right now, aren’t you?” He asked, sounding like he couldn’t decide if he was concerned or mad about it, which was a strange thing to hear in his voice.

You nodded as best you could with his hold on your neck.

At that he let go like you’d burned him, and he let out another growl, this one much deeper in his chest, as he started to pace. “Fuck!” Then he was facing you again. “How long has it been?”

“Years…” You answered, still leaning against the wall, feeling flushed and weak already. Your heats have never started this strong before.

That seemed to piss him off even more, but now the reason was much clearer, he was worried. “Do you have a goddamn death wish?”

“It wasn’t safe.” You reasoned, but it was as weak as your legs felt.

“Neither is not having a heat in years.” He started pacing again, muttering to himself. “Can’t cross the wastes like this…No one for miles…Shit…”

He didn’t need to say it, you both already knew.

He was going to have to help you through it if you wanted to guarantee survival.

And he didn’t look like he was against it so much as hating the circumstances, which was more than a little jarring.

“Coop…” You started but he held up a finger.

“Have you ever had help through a heat before?” He sounded gentler now, still stern but much calmer.

Shaking your head couldn’t look at him. “No.”

“You ever been with an Alpha at all?”

“Once, but he wouldn’t knot me. Some Brotherhood guy I encountered.”

At your words he nodded.

The look on his face spoke volumes. He was mentally preparing to help you, and it made you feel horrifically guilty.

“You don’t have to.” You said quietly. “I can lock myself in the office and stay there till it’s over. You can stay out here or leave. But you don’t have to help me.” You said and he looked at you like he was offended.

“I’m not going to let you suffer alone, and not when it could kill you.” He stalked closer to you as he spoke.

He looked like a completely different man, and you wondered if you were seeing whoever he’d been before he was a Ghoul peeking through.

“Now.” He started. “Sit your ass down and drink some water. You’re going to need it.”

That was the last thing he said before going back over to sit where he’d been before.

Doing the same, you took up your canteen and took a couple long swigs from it, feeling fatigue edging back in.

“I’m gonna try to sleep more.” You said as you laid back down, getting only a hum of acknowledgement in return.

Sleep found you fast, but it was shallow, and your body still felt far too hot.

At one point you woke up to the feeling of being moved and found Cooper taking your duster off.

Managing a grumble of annoyance at being woken he chuckled. “Down girl, just making sure you don’t get heat stroke.” Then you were back out again.

When you woke again for good it felt like you were laying in a pot of boiling water, sweat soaked your clothes, which were heavy and itched at your tingling skin, your eyes were fuzzy and watery, and you could feel a distinct slickness between your legs.

“Cooper?” You rasped, partially fearing he’d changed his mind and abandoned you.

“Right here, Darlin…” He said then you felt the rim of your canteen at your lips. “Nice and slow now.”

The water felt like ice with how hot your mouth and lips were, but it was so nice. “Hurts…” You managed as you tried to tug at your shirt, then your pants, feet kicking at your boots feebly.

“I know, let me.” He said, then his hands were on you, his actual hands, not his gloves.

They felt cool against your skin as he pulled your boots from your feet, then your pants, and finally he helped you sit up and tugged your shirt over your head, leaving you only in your soaked underwear and equally drenched bra, which he helped you out of too when you tried to tug the straps down your arms without success.

“Fuck…Wouldja look at that…” He said as he looked at you, eyes scanning over your body like you were a feast waiting just for him.

You were sure you looked like a mess, and with him so close your glossy eyes could make him out in the haze.

His pupils almost consumed his eyes, his breathing was fast, and his chest was expanding so much with each breath that it made his shirt go a little taut, the sight had you pressing your thighs together, though with all the slick that had gathered there was little friction to be found.

His eyes tracked the movement, and it was like a switch being flipped, his own shirt was pulled free from his pants, which were quickly undone but neither were removed, with made you whine but he shushed you. “You don’t wanna see what’s under all this, Sweetheart…” He whispered before leaning in.

You thought he would go in for a kiss, but instead they met your neck, trailing along your jaw with shocking tenderness, little kisses and nips and licks that made you shiver.

Your hands gripped his shirt collar, pulling him closer, forcing him to reposition between your thighs, allowing you to grind up against him.

“Coop…” You whined as you trailed one hand down his chest till you reached his opened pants, then past the hem till you found what you were looking for.

He was hard, which wasn’t shocking, but his responding shiver sent a bolt through you.

Suddenly you felt stone cold sober. You were about to fuck Cooper.

The man who was to blame for a lot of the misfortune you’d experienced over the last five months.

But he was also the source of a not insignificant amount of fortune.

As quickly as your mind cleared it fogged back over, and you were right back to tugging him closer, now with your legs wrapped over his hips.

Your hand, still wrapped around his thick cock, moved up and down, gathering the pre-cum that was collecting at the tip to spread it down the length.

He let out a quiet groan as you worked him, dipping down to his base to give the raised space where his knot would form a light massage.

At that his hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled your hand away. “You do that, and this’ll be over before I can be any use.” He chided lightly, smirking down at you.

You let out a needy sound and he sat up, moving to flip you but earning an annoyed sound instead as you tried to resist, some primal part of your brain wanting to see him. “This’ll be easier if I’m behind you, Darlin.” He said, using your weakened state and superior strength to carefully turn you over.

In the clear part of your brain, you knew he was right, but the whinny Omega part of your brain you wanted desperately to see his face, to kiss him.

Okay, maybe that last bit was a shared desire, but that was beside the point.

Behind you, Cooper moved around for a moment before you felt him help you sit up a little, slipping your wadded up duster under your head. Your arms wrapped around it immediately like a pillow and you settled on it.

Then cool hands were pulling your panties down your legs, the slick on your thighs had stated to cool uncomfortably and you whined at the sensation, but that whine morphed into a moan as two thick fingers pressed into your cunt.

The ache abated instantly, and your body pressed back into the touch without your input, practically riding his fingers as he curled them, hitting that sweet spot that had your already spinning head turning into a cyclone.

The orgasm snuck up on you entirely.

Your whole body went taut for a moment before descending into shakes as you cried and moaned, it was so good but nowhere near enough.

“Cooper…” You drew out his name, both praise and plead.

Then his chest was pressed to your back, his shirt felt scratchy, and you tried to pull away from the sensation, but then it was gone.

No, not gone, fully unbuttoned so it wasn’t in the way. “I’m right here...” He whispered into your flushed ear, once more sounding like smooth pebbles but now lacking the anger from before.

The head of his cock prodded where you wanted him most, and he didn’t make you wait as he pressed into you, filling you to the brim in one slow thrust.

The base where his knot sat half inflated pressed against your pussy, but he stopped there, letting you get used to the feeling of being so full.

There was an ache of a different kind now, the kind that teetered on the bleeding edge of pleasure, and you tried to press back into it, but his rough hand on your hip kept you still.

“Stay still, let me do all the work.” He ordered before he pulled back only to push back in hard and fast.

The moan it punched out of you was absolutely filthy, and it served to urge him on.

Setting a punishing rhythm, Cooper made no effort to hide that this felt as wonderful for him as it did for you, his voice was rough and raspy as he groaned and growled, his lips pressing to your bare shoulders.

For a moment you wondered if he’d sink his teeth in and claim you, but he never did, instead he pressed his teeth to the spot to make the Omega part of your brain keen.

Each thrust was like a spark to gasolene, igniting every part of your body, and unlike before you could feel the orgasm swelling in your belly.

You tried to vocalize it, warn him it was coming, but with the way his speed increased it seemed he was well aware and didn’t need to be told, especially when it seemed he was right there with you.

In a swift moment he pressed all the way in, causing his knot to press past the barrier of your pussy and lock him to you as you both came screaming.

His name was an incoherent babble as it fell from your lips.

Your name was a low groan as it fell from his.

Heat filled your belly in spurts and your body felt like it finally got exactly what it needed to calm down, the overwhelming fever ebbing and the shaking of your limbs easing.

As you both panted, Cooper shifted you both onto your sides, careful not to tug at the place where you were bound as he went.

Your bundled duster became a shared pillow.

Words didn’t feel needed right then. Even though he hadn’t claimed you, something felt like things were more permanent between you now, like you didn’t need to worry about waking up to him having absconded in the night.

Sleep once more edged at your brain but you tried to resist it, still basking in the afterglow, but when a yawn escaped, he wrapped his arm around you. “Get some sleep, Darlin…”

So, you did.