#im so sorry for inflicting my emotions on you

[sleeptokenpuppy]

i just ran into some videos that made me have really big feelings so i want y'all to imagine something with me for a moment.

imagine you've been making music with someone. for quite a while, actually. long enough that you've seen him Go Through Some Shit and come out the other side of it. those deeply personal lyrics he writes? i bet you were there for at least some of what he wrote those songs about.

and when he sings those songs in front of a crowd, he cries.

your other bandmates could go comfort him, because they're out there walking around the stage with him. you respect why they often don't - either they're playing their own instruments, or working the crowd, or giving him the space to have those feelings, which is important.

(you know their hearts break for him too. all of you know it's healthier for him to cry it out than it is to bottle it up. you let him, even though it hurts.)

but they, at least, can comfort him. you? you can't go comfort him when he cries. you don't have that option. you are stuck behind your drum kit, watching your close friend and colleague cry his heart out. you were there for the reason he's crying, and you can't comfort him. your loyal fan base considers you the greatest drummer of your time, you have to keep playing. and you do. but you have to watch him cry.

all this to say shout out to ii for being a much stronger man than me, i would never survive being in his position, oh my god i would destroy the whole drum kit to hug the shit out of vessel are you fucking kidding me.

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

two of the transfems youre friends with have been talking to you about the clinic they got their bottom surgery done at. apparently its dirt cheap, and the surgeon - despite some oddities and, your friends admit, poor hygiene - is incredibly talented. theyre more than happy to give you her phone number when you ask, and while it sounds simultaneously incredibly sketchy and way too good to be true, at this point youre just so broke, desperate, and tired of gatekeepers that you're willing to give it a shot.

you call on a thursday afternoon, and the call is picked up on the fourth ring, when youre just gearing up to hear an answering machine. the voice on the other end sounds like a middle-aged woman with a smoking habit trying to sound like a cheery, bubbly young girl, and mostly succeeding. hiiiii! what can i do for you? she asks. you say er im looking for a surgical clinic is this the right number? she says mhm! thats me. you say okay, i just have a few questions. she says shoot. you say do you take patients who arent referred to you? she says nobody refers patients to me so yes. then she giggles. youve never heard somebody pull off a giggle in real life. you ask okay, so ive been looking for a place to get my metoidoplasty done, can you do that here? she says i dont know what that is give me like five seconds. then the line goes silent. you can hear her typing on a mechanical keyboard and humming to herself as she reads. youre now convinced that this is not in any way a legitimate medical institution.

youre about to hang up when she comes back on the line. OH you need a dick she says. sure i can do that! does tuesday afternoon work for you? i have that morning free too but i HATE getting up in the mornings so id rather not schedule it if i have to. you say tuesday afternoon is fine, how long should i expect the visit to be? she says i dont know like seven hours? you say seven hours? she says yeah give or take a few, every person is different so i dont know what itll be like until ive got your cunt opened up. honestly probably best to take the whole day off just in case it turns out to be a tough operation. you dont respond to that immediately. she says oh shoot should i not use the word cunt, is that too gendered? sorry. you say no its fine. you say i thought i was just going in for a consult? she says i mean yeah if youd rather. i dont mind doing same-day but some people like having more time to think about their options. do you have somewhere to be tuesday night or something? you say no its just... no tuesday afternoon should be fine. she says okay great!

she gives you her address. she says knock three times so i know its you and not my parole officer. parole officer you ask? she says im being good i promise but i still hate talking to him hes boring. you say if you dont mind me asking what were you imprisoned for? she says the ones i plead guilty to at the trial were a hundred and ninety-two counts of first-degree murder with a parahuman ability, two hundred and fifty-six counts of physical and emotional torture with a parahuman ability, five hundred and six counts of intentional infliction of emotional distress with a parahuman ability, four hundred ninety-eight counts of aggravated assault and battery with a parahuman ability, four hundred twenty five counts of domestic terrorism with a parahuman ability and two hundred and twelve counts without, three counts of arson, two hundred forty two counts of burglary with a parahuman ability, three hundred eight four counts of robbery with a parahuman ability, four hundred twenty seven counts of abduction with a parahuman ability, a hundred eighty six counts of human trafficking with a parahuman ability, three hundred ninety counts of destruction of public property with a parahuman ability, eighty counts of possession of a controlled substance, more than three thousand conspiracy and complicity charges in various felonies, eighteen violations of the Geneva Conventions, and the unauthorized practice of medicine. i plead not guilty to the larceny, sexual assault, contempt of court, corporate espionage, and identity theft charges and the prosecutor didnt really try to fight it since i had already earned seventy life sentences from the other stuff so im technically innocent of those.

you dont say anything to that.

after three seconds of silence she says sooooooooo i'll see you tuesday? you say tuesday, yeah. what was your name again? Riley, she says. Riley Grace Davis. you say thanks again and then hang up.

you debate constantly during the intervening days whether you should go on tuesday. youre grateful your friend group is so slutty; it means youve already seen with your own eyes that this surgery is real and not just a lure to murder you. still, you have some reservations, which you think is perfectly understandable.

you call one of your friends whos been there already. she picks up and you say if this is a joke its only sort of funny. she says if whats a joke? you say the clinic. you say you DID give me the actual number to the place where you actually had your bottom surgery done right? she says yeah, dont worry the surgeons so sweet. you say she admitted to doing two hundred murders when she was on the phone. she says i dont know anything about that but i trust her. you say if i end up dead, kidnapped, or mutilated, its your fault. she says dont worry about it.

tuesday comes. you never agreed to an exact time so you show up as early as you can and still have it be "afternoon" in your mind - 12:30. you climb the rusted fire escape to the third floor door and knock three times. the door is answered by a woman six feet tall in casual but very nice clothes with frizzy brown hair and an expression you cant read. you say er, riley? she says nope. another girl pushes past her, exasperated. she's maybe five foot two and her wavy blonde hair is worn down, with a red bow in it. she's wearing torn jeans - naturally torn, not the sort that you buy with holes in them that youve always hated but the kind that were once normal jeans and now have worn through much of the fabric on the knees. her tshirt is faded and has stains that you cant quite place on it, but youre pretty sure it was once Eidolon merchandise.

she says damnit amy let me answer the door next time. the taller woman, amy apparently, shrugs and steps aside to let you in riley claps her hands together once youre inside and the door is shut. introductions! she shouts. amy, this is, er... I never actually got your name? you tell them your name. she says right! hes one of my clients. and this is Amy, my sister. dont worry about her, shes just a little awkward. amy says can you PLEASE not introduce me as your sister. riley says make me. then she grabs amys shirt and pulls her down, standing on her tiptoes at the same time. they kiss in a very un-sisterly way. you clear your throat politely.

riley breaks away and says right, yeah, sorry! i get distracted easy. youre here to get a dick right. you splutter a bit, both at the bluntness of the question and the fact that amy is still standing right there. riley follows your gaze. she says oh dont worry about her! sorry, i wouldve run her off earlier, i thought you wouldnt come by for another few hours. you say sorry. she says dont worry, its her fault. amy says you didnt tell me you had a client. riley says you didnt ASK. you clear your throat politely again. you say er yes, i did come in for metoidoplasty. she bites her lip and furrows her brow. she says metoido... oh right. well i dont really do that here but i can give you a dick. you say uh im not really interested in phalloplasty. she says whats phalloplasty? amy says its the construction of a penis, usually via tissue flap taken from another part of the body, often followed by the insertion of prosthetics to allow the constructed penis to achieve erection. riley says oh, huh. yeah i dont do that either. i can give you a dick though. she takes a second then puts on an exaggerated scowl. who would want that she asks? amy says lots of people prefer it to metoido for aesthetic reasons or because they dont think theyll be large enough for penetrative sex with metoido. riley says but it wouldnt feel like a dick! man, some surgeons are talentless hacks.

you clear your throat again. you say so if youre- riley says youre clearing your throat a lot, are you okay? you say im fine, its just- she says oh duh were being so rude! why are we all standing around here. come sit down in the living room, do you want anything to drink? she leads you into the living room. it has the unmistakable air of a room thats been cleaned recently, with vacuuming marks present in the carpet and the unmistakable scent of air freshener. the sofa that you're gestured to sit on is, by contrast, unbelievably filthy. stains of every sort are visible on it - some of them are obvious, like the patches of blood and vomit or the ring of a coffee mug. others take you a second to place, like the crusty streak along one cushion that you realize all at once is semen, or the sticky yellow parts that you hope to god are honey. some of them, like the muddy green handprint along one arm of the sofa or the deep black smudge along a seat, are completely foreign to you. you can smell it from several feet away.

amy notices your hesitancy. she says i keep telling her to throw that thing out. riley says and i keep telling HER that its a relic from earth bet! its an antique and itll be worth millions soon. it just needs a good deep cleaning. amy says what that sofa needs is a bullet, not a deep clean. you sit down. drink? riley asks. you say er what do you have? she says water, diet coke, vodka, coffee. no more beer though, SOMEBODY drank the last one. amy says you never said they were off limits! riley says they arent, im just teasing. you say waters fine. riley says aaaaaaaaaamyyyyyyy, could you pleeeeeeaaaaaaaase go get our guest a glass of water and me a diet coke? oh and can you grab the pill bottle on the second shelf of the spice cabinet. amy says sure, i'll be right back.

riley sits down next to you. she says sooooooo what do you want for your dick? you say sorry, if youre not doing phallo or metoido then what exactly are you offering? she says no offense but it would take like literally eight years to give you enough background info for you to understand my explanation, and i dont have that kind of time. im not getting any younger. except for when i am. she laughs louder than you thought a human could. you have no idea how to describe the sound of her laughter. she says just tell me about your dream dick and ill give it to you. trust me, im a doctor.

except that youre not, amy says, returning with glasses and pills in hand. she sets the water down in front of you and you immediately take large gulps, feeling very much lost right now. riley says am TOO, accepting the pill bottle and diet coke from amy. she frowns. why is it can diet coke, she asks? she says glass bottle is so much better. she says why did i even BUY can. amy says they are literally the same liquid, what do you mean its better. riley says theyre not the same, stop deluding yourself. amy says which of us is the REAL doctor? riley says both of us! the PRT finally issued me an equivalency. youre talking to doctor riley davis, MED. amy says oh really? congrats she says. riley beams. then she unscrews the lid of the unlabeled, dark brown glass bottle, grabs three pills, and pops them into her mouth.

what is that you ask. ectasy she says. you want some? you say no thanks. she says you sure? you say i probably shouldnt take drugs before an operation, what if it interacts with the anesthetic? riley says dont worry, i made my own anesthetic that has zero drug-drug interactions. amy says except with sudafed. riley says ok YEAH except with sudafed, how was i supposed to know? she glances at you. you dont take sudafed do you she asks. you say no. she says good. it was such a bitch cleaning the pus off the ceiling she says. you say huh? she says dont worry about it, you dont take sudafed. she says are you sure you dont want any ecstasy? i promise its pure. you say i dont want to get addicted. she says i can surgically remove the addiction pathway from your brain if that would help. amy says riley, no means no. riley says fine. do you want any ecstasy babe? she says no thanks. riley frowns. she says you guys are a bunch of squares. she pops a fourth one and starts chugging diet coke.

she slams the can down after drinking what must be half of it, wipes her mouth with her arm and grins. sorry, we keep getting distracted! she says. she says im getting into the start of a manic episode and that always makes me roll right over people in conversation. what do you want for your dick? you say um. i hadnt really thought about it. its not normally a choice beyond the type of surgery, you sort of just end up with whatever the doctors are able to make work? thats lame she says. why are normal doctors all so lame she says. ok, rude amy says. OBVIOUSLY im not talking about you babe riley says. and stop distracting me from my client! amy holds up her hands in mock surrender, an easy smile on her face.

you didnt bring a toy with you did you, riley asks. you say huh. she says sometimes people bring a toy that they want me to model it after and that makes everything a lot easier. you say no you didn't. you say i hadn't really thought about my preferences, can we go dealer's choice on this? amy pipes up. she says you REALLY dont want riley to go dealers choice. riley says shut up and get me another diet coke, i just finished this one. amy says yes princess. you honestly cant read whether it was meant to be mocking or endearing. riley turns back to you. ok, she says, lets start with basics. primate? canid? equine? suine? dolphin? i could give you a hyena pseudopenis but i dont know if that would be offensive. you say human is fine. she says please dont tell me you're gonna just be boring this whole time. you say define boring. she sighs deeply and starts massaging her temples. amy, having stepped into the room in time to hear the last bit of conversation, tousles rileys hair. she says sorry babe, customer's always right.

you work out the appearance of your soon-to-exist cock this way. riley asks questions about length, girth, hair, amount of semen generated, percentage growth when erect, and you try to give what you think are average answers every time. amy watches, bemused, the whole time. halfway through she leaves to get the bottle of vodka. she drinks five shots in fifteen minutes. you say i didnt think the human body had that much capacity for alcohol resistance. she says it doesnt. riley swats playfully at her arm.

eventually, riley grabs a set of crayons and a cocktail napkin. she says ok, i think we got it, scribbling furiously. she shows you a crayon drawing of a dick. this look good she asks? you squint at it. there are no measurements given and the medium does not allow you to make out any fine detail. you say yeah thats fine. amy tries and fails to hide a smile. riley chucks the napkin aside and rubs her hands together. boring parts done! she says. time to get messy she says. amy pours a sixth shot of vodka. she says dont forget the anesthetic first. riley rolls her eyes. she says OBVIOUSLY i didnt forget the anesthetic. she says ill be right back. as soon as she leaves the room, amy knocks back her shot. she turns to you. she says you mind if i stay and watch? she says i dont want to make you uncomfortable, but i like watching her work. shes cute when shes working. you say at this point youre not sure you would mind anything at all. you say at this point you dont think you would be fazed if she came back with a fully-formed dick wriggling around in her hand like a fish and sewed it onto me. she says dont tempt fate.

riley comes back with a black bag the size of her head, which she sets on the coffee table with a thunk. she points at you and says okay, clothes off. or pants off i guess. you can leave the shirt on. or take it off. i dont care. you take it off. she tells you to lie down and starts pulling things out of the bag. amy stands up from the sofa to give you the space to stretch out and sits on the coffee table instead, one leg pulled up to her chest with her chin resting on her knee.

riley pulls out a syringe from the bag, filled with pitch-black fluid. she says okay this will hurt for a second but only for a second. you say huh? she flips you over onto your belly and jabs the needle against your lower back, into your spinal column. it hurts like a bitch for all of two seconds and then you stop feeling anything at all in your lower body. you also cant move your legs, you realize. what just happened you ask, as she flips you onto your back again. she says i just killed all the cells in the nerves in your lower spine. she says its the easiest way to make sure none of the pain signals slip through, and she'll just replace them with living ones when she's done. you don't know how to respond to that.

she pulls more things out of the bag. a cartoonish array of different cutting implements come out. most of them are various sizes of medical scalpel, ring cutter, or saw, but you also see a pair of chunky pink safety scissors, a pizza cutter, a serrated bread knife, an x-acto, a drill with a comically long bit, a pair of wire cutters, gardening shears, and an awl. she says okay im gonna start operating so look away if you dont wanna see how your crotch looks while its being rearranged. especially if you think you might puke, i hate having to stop to clean up puke in the middle of surgery. you look away. you notice amy is watching transfixed.

for a couple of hours things go on like that. amy and riley make light conversation, with riley filling any silence by humming a wordless tune you dont know. the sounds and smells youre getting are enough to make you slightly sick; you continue not looking.

in the middle of hour two, riley stops. oh goddamnit, she says. what amy asks? riley says she forgot that shed need extra meat. amy says you started a surgery to give somebody a whole new organ and forgot youd need more tissue to do it? riley says shut up, im dumb. amy says no youre not babe. riley says ughhhhh now what. amy says just get his stem cells to grow the tissue you need. riley says nooooooo thatll take forever, and i have places to BE tomorrow, and if i stop putting pressure on him here hes going to bleed out through his cunt. you say wait, what? amy says well i dont know what you want me to do about this situation, i gave you my solution. riley says baaaaaaaaaaabe. amy says whaaaaaaaaaaaat. riley says i think we have some bacon in the fridge, will you pretty please with sprinkles on top go get it? amy says and what do i get in return? riley says a kiss. amy says id get that anyway. riley says my undying love and affection. amy says i have that already. riley says not making me angry at you so you can sleep under my roof without having to worry that ill turn your sweat glands into acid glands in the middle of the night. amy says that, plus i get to top tonight. riley says fiiiiiiiiine, just go get the bacon. amy gets up.

you say look uh i know you said not to question what youre doing but i kind of dont want a dick made of bacon, not to sound ungrateful. also did you say something about me bleeding out? riley says dont worry, if you bleed out ill put the blood back in, im a professional. you say thats not as reassuring as she thinks it is. riley says whos the doctor, mister? you say technically both of us. i have a phd in social sciences you say. she says wow, theyre just giving out doctorates for anything these days, huh? you say hey, rude. she says only teasing. you say anyway, uh, you didnt address the bacon dick thing? she says oh dont worry about it, my amys amazing, youll see.

amy comes back in with the package of bacon. do you need this in any particular shape she asks. riley says nah just give me a good amount of it. and make sure its spongy, so when he gets hard the blood can- amy cuts her off. she says dont worry, ive given you enough penises at this point that i think i know what penile tissue is like at this point. you say given her enough penises? what the hell does that mean? riley says hey, dont kinkshame! she sounds legitimately offended. you say sorry. amy pulls the bacon out of the package, holding it aloft in her left hand. you watch as the familiar look of a half-pound of bacon shifts and warps into a strange lump of fatty, spongy tissue of a waxy color. she hands it to riley. riley says thanks sis youre the best, love you! amy says no problem. riley says id kiss you if i wasnt elbow deep in this guys cunt right now. amy says kiss me after the surgerys done.

another two hours go by. the sounds of flesh being chopped, sawed, and stitched underscore riley and amys meaningless conversation about whether they HAVE to attend their acquaintance lisa's birthday party. riley says lisa probably wouldn't throw a birthday party if there wasn't some sort of scheme going on. amy agrees but says that doesnt indicate whether they should get involved with the scheme or not. you wonder dimly if you will ever feel your lower body again. you wonder if this is purgatory, an endless afternoon of lesbians bickering affectionately while one of them does surgery on you. you turn your head enough to look at the clock. its 5:26pm. where the fuck did the time go?

another hour passes. riley stands up. she is soaked up to her elbow in various bodily fluids - mostly blood, but youre not looking too closely. she says finally! she says just need to regrow your nerve cells now. you say is that going to take long? she says like twenty minutes maybe as she flips you over. you say ok. she jams a different needle into the same spot, injecting a strange yellow paste into your spine. she then flips you onto your back again. you feel brave enough to finally look at your crotch.

there is a completely normal human penis of average size there. you reach a hand down and touch it. you dont have any sensation in it yet since your nerves are all still dead, but it feels warm and soft under your hands. you smile, feeling tears come to your eyes. its over.

rileys talking. she says i followed your specifications except i had to cheat a bit on the nerves, you actually didnt have very many in your clit for whatever reason so your glans has maybe eight thousand fewer nerves than you wanted, sorry about that. she says i gave you balls in your scrotum for shape but since you said you didnt want kids they dont produce sperm. let me know if you want that changed she says. she says it should be fully functional in every respect, but if you notice any erectile dysfunction, incontinence, discoloration in urine or semen, priapism, or any other issue come back and we'll sort it out. if you notice it bleeding in ANY capacity, call me immediately. if im not answering call Amy, ill give you her number. if SHES not answering either then you can start seeing normal doctors, not that those idiots will know how to help you probably. if you want any changes to it call me and ill pencil you in to get it adjusted. get all that she asks. you nod. she says cool. she says itll be like $200, no rush if youre not able to pay right now. you say it might be a bit since youre still trying to pay interest on your student loan debt. wait, she says, they have student loans again? you nod. she says the world ended like thirty years ago, when did they set up student loans again? fuck, how much do you owe? you say a little under eighty thousand. she says jesus fuck, nevermind, its free. goddamn. you say thank you so much. she says yeah of course. do you want us to dress you or do you want to wait until you can move and do it yourself?

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter eight, halloween)

‘Your hands are all over my scent, I worry for you, you worry for me, and it's fine if we know we won't change. Collect every dream in these old empty pockets, in hope that I'll see them someday. But the wreckage of you, I no longer reside in, and the bridges have long since been burned, the ash of the home that I started the fire in. It starts to return to the Earth, I'm leavin' this town and I'm changin' my address I know that you'll come if you want. It's not Halloween, but the ghost you're dressed up as sure knows how to haunt’

summary; communication is hard, especially when spencer is keeping secrets and you’re debating sticking around to find out what they are.

warnings; arguments, fem reader, reader is a bitch, horrible miscommunications, spencer is confusing, reader is hurt, they both cry, some comfort but not really, direct continuation of the last chapter, suggestive so 18+ please, mdni, there is so many mixed emotions in this, kissing, mentions commitment issues, ghosting, god they are complicated, reader is real as always.

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules @ameerakane20 @lucere @cultish-corner @psyches-reid

“Please.” It was so quiet, so desperate, full of genuine plea leaving his lips as he hand brushed your shoulder, spinning you to face him. You looked up at him and your chest ached painfully at the tears lining his eyes. You wondered how long it would be before he no longer had an effect on you.

You shook your head, dropping your gaze down. You wanted to yell at him, tell him how shit he made you feel, make him feel the hurt he had inflicted onto you, but you didn’t, you couldn’t. It was Spencer for christ sake. You hated it, so much, that he was standing here and so were you, you hated that you were looking into his eyes and your heart was aching at the sight, you hated him so much it made your chest hurt, or maybe that was because you loved him.

“What do you want from this, Spencer?” It was shakier than you intended it to come out. You didn’t understand him, which wasn’t new since his brain was a complexity that yours couldn’t near but this was different. His feelings had always been clear until now. Why was he so fixated on making sure you knew he was sorry, why was he so worried about that when he wouldn’t provide you with an explanation, when he knew without that there was no way he could fix this.

“I just- i don’t want you to hate me.” He whispered, your mind spun with furthered confusion and honestly his mixed signals and emotions were beginning to give you whiplash to the point your head hurt and your neck ached. His hand reached out for your jaw, you snapped your head away.

“Would that make you feel better about yourself? If i didn’t hate you?” You asked, maybe the words were malicious, but your voice came out genuine, searching his eyes to see if he needed some sort of validation from you.

“No- I just- I want to tell you everything but I can’t, because you will argue with me and i hate arguing with you-“ you cut off his ramble.

“What do you think this is? A friendly discussion?”

“Closure?”

You scoffed, “No explanation, No reasoning, wont be honest, avoiding questions, getting frustrated- Yeah no this is great closure actually. I hope you feel better now.” You huffed out, tone laced with sarcasm.

He said your name, you frowned. “I don’t want you to hate me. I fucked up, i know. And im sorry i can’t tell you what you want to hear— or anything worth listening to but I care about you, so much. So incredibly much, even if you don’t believe it. I do, I do. I care about you.” He was begging in his words. You didn’t understand why.

“I hate what you did, and i hate how you made me feel, and i hate that i trusted you, i hate that you lied to me—”

“I didn’t lie.”

You scoffed, "I'll never hurt you'" you mocked his promise, "I promise" you continued. He remained silent as his gaze dropped, his hands came to run through his hair.

You were silent for a moment, before you sighed, dropping your gaze, "I don't hate you." You mumbled, not for his comfort but for the fact it was true. You didn't hate him, hating him was near impossible.

"Im sorry." He apologised. "Let me make it up to you."

"Tell me why." You argued.

"I can't." He almost begged, like it physically hurt him to say.

You shook your head, "Then can you just, leave me the fuck alone?" You were tired. Of this, of this feeling. It was as if Spencer came into your life, got close, purely for the sake of reminding you why you didn't let anyone do that. It was sickening. The hurt caused you physically sickness more times then you were willing to admit.

The nights you spent in hysterics over the overwhelming ache in your heart, the him shaped ache. Well those were nights you kept to yourself. When nights grew too lonely, or the side of the bed he had almost claimed as his own carried a hint of his scent, when you saw the hoodie laying on the chair in the corner of your room. You never wore it, you couldn't. You couldn't return it either. It remained in place in the corner of your room, untouched.

"I can't." He repeated in the same tone, yet quieter. He looked so resigned, so in his own head. Guilty.

You wanted to scream.

It was as simple as that. He was confusing, a walking contradiction. He wouldn't tell you what caused his sudden disappearance, what you had done, or what he had done, but he was acting as if he was physically incapable of staying away from you despite that.

Your eyes squinted when you looked up at him.

You weren't going to cry - not again. The fact he had even seen that was an embarrassment you would delve into later — way too late in the night and hate yourself for, for probably the next few years of your life. He was looking at you, pleading with his eyes.

You wanted to scream.

"You don't get to do that." It came out harsh, you intended it so. You could see the physical stiffness of his body. He wanted to reach out, touch you. You wanted him to stay away.

No, you didn't. Your feelings were just as contradictory as he was. In a way you wanted him to stay away from you because you knew if he didn't you may break. The tough shell exterior may crumble for him, again. You wanted to hug him, you wanted to feel the warmth of his body and breathe in his scent, but you wanted to hate him more.

"I know." He said, quietly, It was honest. He chewed at his lip as he looked at you, hands by his side, squeezing his fists together before releasing them. You wanted to walk away. You wanted to so badly but your feet remained glued to the ground, too close to him, yet at the same time not close enough.

You pulled your gaze away, looking over the streets. It was quiet, deafeningly so. If you focused enough you'd hear the music coming from the inside of the bar. You couldn't, you couldn't focus enough on anything other than Spencer in front of you.

"Spencer." You turned your gaze back to him when you muttered his name. It was stern, steady, a complete contradiction to how you felt. "If you aren't going to give me an explanation or at least tell me what i did, then i want nothing to do with you."

His breath hitched, you heard it. He was quiet for a moment then his head dropped, a mental argument, you could imagine. Then when he spoke it was quiet, earnest.

"You didn't do anything." It came out like a promise, he said it so certainly you almost believed it. You wondered if you'd ever believe anything he said again, the voice in the back of your mind screaming that he was a liar seemed a little louder than his words.

Your eyes squinted as your arms raise and fell by your side with a huff of frustration parting your lips. You were over this. So over it.

Everything you had avoided getting yourself into - for this exact reason being proven nothing more than a mistake.

You could hardly form words.

"What did you do then?" You accused, it would be a lie to say that the thought of him possibly finding another girl didn't cross your mind at least once, or a hundred times. It was hard not come up with scenarios and false accurate explanations for what he did.

He said your name, because he wanted to believe you knew him better than that, looking at you with a frown so sad it made your heart feel as if it was constricted of blood. "Nothing- I didn't- Nobody did anything wrong." He frowned.

You furrowed your eyebrows because the more he talked the more you wanted to turn around and hit your head against the brick wall, hoping maybe if you did it enough times this would all make sense. Although you doubted that.

"So you just.. lost interest?" You didn't want to ask, you wish you didn't care.

"No." He shook his head instantly, stepping forward. You would've stepped back if your feet didn't feel glued to the ground, and if his eyes werent burning into yours, as if they were trying to tell you something that his words couldn't.

"No- I am- So interested."

You closed your eyes, because you were sure if you didn't you would scream.

“I know— Thats not fair and I am confusing you— I am confused too.” He stepped closer again. You could almost feel his body heat and the height of him cascading a shadow over you, blocking the streetlight from your vision, not that you needed it because your eyes remained closed.

You sighed, dragging your hands down your face. If this situation were to happen eight month ago, you would’ve turned around on your heels and left without a second thought, refusing to let this hurt you, refusing to care for someone so deeply again, but this wasn’t happening eight months ago, it was happening now, and you did care about Spencer, so incredibly much. It was almost embarrassing. You were embarrassed about how much you cared.

“So is it a commitment thing?” You mumbled through your hands, you just needed something, the rest you could make up in your head late at night before you fell asleep, pouring coffee in the morning, you could come up with an explanation that provided you with enough comfort you made be able to live with the unknowing.

“No.” He shook his head.

That didn’t help, now you were more confused. If it was a commitment thing, you could understand, but it wasn’t and you didn’t understand.

“You do realise this whole conversation is useless right?” You mumbled, peeling your hands away from your face, and opening your eyes. You knew he was close, but not this close. His body was in front of yours, so close it was like a punishment, and torture at once because you had to refrain from reaching up and wrapping your arms around him, in search of the comfort that had grown absent with him.

You looked up at him, a frown on your lips. You wished you could walk away, he looked down at you, chewing at his lips for a moment as his eyes flickered along every feature of your face, committing it all to memory. “But it’s a conversation.” He barely whispered it.

Your heart tugged with so much ache you were sure you were going to die. “You’re hurting me.”

He was silent, his eyes looking into yours. He didn’t flinch at your words but you could see it in his eyes, he knew. Whether it was intentional or not, he knew he was hurting you, he knew what he was doing, and he looked like it was breaking his heart.

He hesitated, you waited. For something, anything.

“Can I kiss you?”

Thats not what you expected. And you weren’t sure if the butterflies in your stomach were hurt and anger dwindling around, or whether it was nerves because it was Spencer. Offering, or asking for something that only confused you more, yet you wanted to say yes.

“No- What?- Are you insane?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing.

He didn’t seem shocked nor hurt by your rejection. He probably expected it.

What he was shocked by, what you were also shocked by was the fact although your words, you leant up and your lips were on his before he could reply. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the emotions, or maybe it was just him.

You would regret it when you pulled away, you knew that. You would hate yourself for every second of the rest of your life when his lips parted yours, but right now, as his hands found way to your waist the moment he processed what was happening, tugging you in closer so your chest was flush against his own and his lips were pressing against yours, all thoughts of anything else left your mind.

His hands gripped at the fabric of your shirt, tangling the material through his fingers, using that to pull you impossibly closer, the movement was so familiar, because he always wanted you so close, he used to, anyways. You weren’t sure what you were thinking when your hands came to his neck, pressing against either side of it.

You definitely weren’t sure what you were thinking when your hands moved from his neck to tangle in his hair, encouraging him further into the kiss.

You were sure you weren’t thinking when your lips parted as his tongue brushed over the lining over your lips, hands squeezing your waist gently. you could feel the air leaving his nose against your lower lip, it tickled and if you weren’t kissing for the reason you were, you would’ve pulled away in a mess of laughter, because with him you could.

He hadn’t been drinking, not alcohol anyways, you knew that because you could taste the sugary syrup residue on his lips from some sort of soda. You were sure yours resembled the taste of vodka, not that you had drank a lot, actually only half of a drink, so you couldn’t even blame kissing him on being drunk, because you were completely in your right mind.

You settled for blaming emotions instead.

You were hyperaware of everything, every touch, every small breath, every movement of his lips, every soft grace of his tongue, of his scent. His scent was suffocatingly familiar, and sickeningly comforting. Your chest was constricted and you weren’t sure if it was from the messiness of his kiss as his lips pressed and moved against yours, or if it was from how you knew when you pulled away you would regret it.

When your hands tugged gently on the strands of hair tangled in your fingers, a slight groan left his lips straight against yours, the sound sent your nerves into a frenzy, and all common sense went out the window. His hands were everywhere, your back, your hair, your shoulders, your thighs.

“We are in the middle of the road.” He mumbled against your lips, not pulling away. You think he knew just as well as you did, the moment it slowed down you’d have too much time to think about it.

“Oh” you mumbled back, pressing your lips against his again, but also very aware that this was very public, although the street was dead, and quiet as the minutes ticked to a later hour, you did not necessarily want to be seen as the girl kissing her ex almost boyfriend in the middle of the street.

“How’d you get here?” He asked, his lips left yours yet before you could even have time to regret kissing him in the first place, his lips connected with your jaw, and your head and common sense remained up in the clouds, you stayed right here with him.

Your breath was heavy, chest rising and falling as your eyes fluttered closed, head tilting to allow him more space as his teeth brushed ever so gently against your jaw before his lips continued against your neck. “Uh” apparently your ability to talk was up in the clouds with the rest of your dignity.

“Uh?” He mumbled, he was teasing.

“Penelope.” You huffed out as your head tilted further, hands still in his hair, his hands still on your waist.

He hummed as his hands slipped under your shirt, pressing gently against the soft skin of your back, the touch sent shivers and goosebumps everywhere. You could feel him everywhere, you were utterly consumed by him in every aspect. “How much have you drank?” He asked.

What a question, because although you were sober and unaffected by the half of a drink you had, admitting that would mean you wouldn’t be able to blame whatever stupid decision you made on alcohol, but you knew if you lied, and said you had more than you did, he would be pulling away and making sure you got home safe.

No option was a good option but one saved your dignity and the other deprived you of him.

“Half of one.” He hummed in response.

“Do you want me to take you home?” He asked, pulling away to look down at you, one hand left your back to reach for your jaw, his thumb brushing over the soft skin of cheek. Any regret in your chest seemed to be overtaken by the gentleness of his touch and the familiarity of his offer.

But you shook your head, “No- you’re not coming to my house.” You mumbled, your lips were still tingling with the sensation of his, you didn’t want him at your house, not anymore. It had taken you a while to even let him there in the first place, he had lost the right to your home. Apparently he would always have the right to you though, even if it was embarrassingly so. “Take me to yours?”

[xnchxntmxnt]

hurt comfort with the astarion guy pls I don't don't know anything about the game I've just seen clips of him on youtube and I love him

you aSK AND YOU SHALL RECIEVE i love him

Blood is Rare and Sweet as Cherry Wine

Character: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)

Warnings: reverse hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol (reader doesn’t drink), general astarion backstory information but it’s nothing super specific. not proofread

Notes: almost cried writing this. im sorry. anyway I'm a hozier lover what else is new.

gn reader

reblogs > likes

send an ask to join my taglist

Astarion stared at the fire, leaning back against one of the boxes under his tent. There was something serene about this area—they’d never been attacked at camp, and it comforted him to know he could let his guard down somewhere. If only slightly. 

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice you walking up to him until you spoke. 

“Astarion?” you asked, voice softer than he expected. “Are you alright?”

He must have looked upset—he didn’t need your pity, though, so he tried to shake himself back to reality. “What can I do for you, my dear?” he asked, sitting up a bit straighter and taking a sip of the ale next to him. 

You paused, looking at him with your eyebrows furrowed slightly, then finally decided to sit next to him. He offered the ale but you declined. Instead, you turned your body to face him and slowly, gently, brushed a bit of hair out of his face. 

And he flinched. 

You quickly pulled your hand away from him and rested it in your lap. He stared, wide-eyed, terrified of his own actions. He’d inflicted pain on countless others and never felt guilt for it, but such a simple gesture broke him. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice small and quiet. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Astarion was always so eccentric, so proud, so…unafraid. This was an entirely new side to him, and he was even more embarrassed to show it to you. He wanted to run, he wanted to hide, but he didn’t have the energy to make his feet move. To make anything move. 

There was a beat of silence, where the two of you only listened to the crackling fire a few feet away. Then, you spoke. “You don’t have to apologize for anything.”

He didn’t understand how you could be so kind to him. There were so many things wrong with him as a person, or things from his past—he’d hurt people, tricked them, found ways for dear Cazador to turn them into mindless little puppets. Like he was, before all this mindflayer business. 

There was so much wrong in the world, and there you sat. His ray of sunshine—his hope. Somehow with you, things seemed a little less dreary. True, there was some mystical dream-being that followed you around keeping everyone from sprouting tentacles, so that was something positive. But your general disposition, the way you smiled at him when you caught him staring at you, the way you snuck away from the rest of camp with him to watch the stars…all these things made him fall so hopelessly in love. 

He couldn’t be that person for you, though. He never learned how to make big, romantic gestures or show his affection in a way that made sense. A way that made sure you knew he adored you in your best and worst moments. Cazador had ruined him—he’d ruined any semblance of having a normal life. On top of being a vampire spawn and ripped away from his life before, he was stuck in an endless loop of servitude and puppetry or constantly fearing for his life. He never learned or could afford, to just relax. You deserved someone who could love you whole-heartedly, not the monster he’d become. 

“I care for you so, so deeply, my dear,” he all but whispered, voice tight with emotion. 

“I know.”

“I cannot, for the life of me…” he trailed off, quickly wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “I cannot understand why you care for me.”

His head hung low; you stared at him, shocked and unsure how to react to his words. He felt embarrassed, he felt small—there was nothing he could do, it seemed, to pull himself out of this rut he had himself stuck in lately. 

Then he heard your words. 

“Can I hug you, Astarion?”

He glanced over to you, seeing teh pleading look in your eyes. You’d asked. Maybe that made him feel a little more normal, a little less messed up. Hesitantly, he leaned into your embrace. The moment he felt the warmth of your arms around him, though, he melted. He laid his head on your chest, his full weight falling into you exponentially by the second. And with it, he began to cry. 

It was heart-wrenching sobs that felt like someone stabbing him through the heart every time, but he couldn’t mistake the comfort of your hands running through his hair. The soothing, repetitive motion calmed his nerves more than he thought possible. After what felt like ages, he began to sit up, trying to put himself back together like that hadn’t just happened. His eyes looked slightly irritated, but he tried desperately to wipe any evidence of his outburst from his face—

Suddenly, he felt your hands around his face, thumbs running over his cheeks. He stopped—his hands slowly fell, and he relaxed into your embrace once again. 

“You do not have to apologize for feeling things, Astarion,” you said softly. “And you certainly don’t have to hide from me. Not your thoughts, not your emotions.”

He nodded, turning his head slightly to the side to kiss the palm of your hand. His voice was hoarse but surprisingly gentle. “Thank you. I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s the thing. You do.”

He smiled softly—it had been a long time since he felt like he could do so freely. 

taglist

@grays321

[prettyboykatsuki]

idk if you’ve ever talked about this but would love a spark notes summary of what your bllk guys are like in bed lol

I DONT THINK IVE EVER MADE A POST ABT IT REALLY? at least not like a masterpost i normally just go insane making 50 horny posts in a row KJSDKJS

i have such strong opinions on all of them actually im so mentally ill . also this reeks of my insane isagi bias sorry alsdkfjsd. u said sparknotes but i cant shut up to save my life SDKFJSJ SORRY!!!

isagi yoichi: he is the True Switch to me. prefers to topping to bottoming with some exceptions like depending on his partner. he leans in whatever direction is partner leans in so if you're submissive, he's dominant and vice versa. very obedient when he's being submissive. kind of an asshole when he's domming sdkfjlksdk massive tease and bully 🙂‍↕️. very verbal and likes to play mind games. a giver in his heart of hearts. enjoys facesitting. likes receiving too but blowjobs make him feel really sensitive so its a special occasion thing. has a thing for stockings and light femdom overall. loves anal. likes vanilla sex equally to everything else he's just generally down for whatever. very quick learner. has a bunch of somewhat random fantasies he's embarrassed about wanting to try but gets really into them when they happen. jack of all trades.

bachira meguru: another True Switch. NOISY IN BED. in general the type that wants to get his way. extremely bratty sub and kind of masochistic. likes the feeling of being completely dominated and also likes being the center of attention in sex. prefers topping to bottoming but only in a very slight margin. rough when he's dominating someone, like sickly sweet tone that completely contradicts what he's doing. likes quickies and in general having very risky sex whether that means being in public or going bareback. likes piss. bitey and likes bruising. fiend about head in general so loves getting facefucked and loves eating pussy. like he lovesssss it. likes receiving it too but likes to fuck(or be fucked) much more. spits an insane amount of filth during sex like goes on and on and on. just like a little slutty. unrelated kinda but his cock is BURLY. anyway.

itoshi rin: generally leans submissive and/or vanilla. kind of a spoiled brat about it but it takes him... a long long time to open up to that point. doesn't care about top/bottom position much. even in vanilla sex it's probably on you to take the lead in one or another until he's more comfortable. can be kind of stiff and awkward. unexpectedly clumsy abut everything and touches you carefully. good with his hands. likes being on the receiving end of body worship. usually does not like to inflict pain. its very intimate no matter what and unexpectedly emotional. uses sex as a stopgap for communication barriers so sometimes his cuteness aggression ends up as marathon sex where you fuck for hours. overall reserved and has to be convinced to do certain things even when he likes them. cant take being edged. always very embarrassed in the aftermath. likes being pampered a little and spoken too in a very embarrassing way but if you bring it up afterwards he'll fucking kill you. sweet when he's deep into subspace but again.... takes a while. he relies on his instinct a lot in bed, like more than normal.

oliver aiku: whore. another switch, but leans on dominant. no real pref for top/bottom. knows what he likes and how to please people. usually bottoms for very burly men and tops pretty boys - he is very typical in that sense. likes all women equally in his case and does what they say. weirdly unselfish which is what makes people come back to him. good with pretty much everything but his stroke game is undefeated and it is unfortunate for everyone. can be incredibly cruel while dominant or incredibly sweet. just depends on who he's with. enjoys getting head when its sloppy. big fan of anything related to ass (likes rimming as much as being rimmed etc). prefers one on one interactions so he can focus his attentions on one person but has been in several threesomes. in a relationship he is extremely heavy on body worship and praise. frightening stamina, never tired. can do it a couple times in a day without getting tired. likes spit and cumming on his partners face.

i think i will be here forever if i go though people can ask for specific characters if they want a version of this SDKJFSDJ. but these are my opinion on my Faves(TM). SORRY THIS IS SO LONG? something is wrong with me

i think a lot of the bluelock men are very switchy and weird about sex bc they are just insane KSJDKJ ??

[lifemod17]

thoughts on 'Unaired EP'

IN THIS ESSAY I WILL-

below the cut in case you don't want spoilers <3

Nobody's Soldier

THE FUCKIN FALSETTO IS DRIVING ME INSANE ITS LIKE HE LACED THIS SONG WITH CRACK

"Benzos and gasoline" line is WILD (it is so hot for no reason wtf Andrew)

the little break that happens at 1:43 with. i don't even know what that is? like a sort of distorted / reverbed guitar bend / riff? either way, LOVE THAT.

also lets give it up one time for the organ, that is SO GNARLY, YOU CANNOT DENY IT!!!

hearing the live version vs. this recorded one is different, I literally went "OMFG WHAT IS THIS PART" starting at 2:53 when he gets all whisper-y WHY IS IT SO HOT

Listen man, I am a sucker for a good pause, and that pause after the bridge has me UNWELL.

SLOWING IT DOWN for the ending will never not be iconic. you don't see that happening a lot!

the intake of breath on the outro??!! tumblr user lifemod17 is NOT FARING WELL

July

so full of hope and promise and really just about having that thing or that someone to look forward to. The definition of "postpone that funeral"

THE SYNTHS??? FORGIVE HIM FATHER FOR HE HAS SYNTH!!!

"JUST KNOWING THAT'S GETTING ME THROUGH"?!?!?!? I wanna throw up. that is a Tonee-ass line. yeah 'July' is DEFINITELY taking the crown. This is my favorite from the EP.

i WAS right! he says 'prada' because it just made so much sense with the 'wore me out' line.

the whole second half had me in SHAMBLES. the lyrics were already insane but also throw in his soft voice mixed with the FUNKY & GROOVY beat?? I fear it is so over for me (I was genuinely screaming into a pillow and needed to sit down even though I was already sat and also I didn't know what to do with my person so I was just laying there and looking up at the ceiling while fighting off tears. I was SHOOK.)

It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and makes me want to roll downhill a field and pick flowers to give to strangers

Have I mentioned the pen game? Because it is on level 9000. His pen was on fire when he has writing this

B A S S O U T R O GOT ME ACTING TF UP

That You Are

I was not expecting the lyrics to be "that I'd be anywhere that you are". im sorry but that is devastatingly beautiful and rips my heart out brb sobbing

my wig quietly and peacefully ascended from my head.

it's a lot more raw, production wise. the vocals aren't super clean, but I actually really like it this way!!! it makes the song that much more precious, gentle, intimate

Bedouine's vocals NEVER DISAPPOINTS!! She always has a way of transporting you with her music- makes you feel like you're floating above water

I needed to sautee the yearning for this one, its so pretty but hits you right in the feels

The fact that this is speculated to be the contender for the spot of 'I, Carrion (Icarian)' I'M GONNA CRY AGAIN Andrew please do an EP breakdown cuz I need to know!

that little instrumental interlude towards the bridge is so lovely and the entire song really! I think they did a good job of splitting the vibe 50/50 <- I say this because I listen to Bedouine a lot and the vibe of her songs is definitely here. it just really shows that they both wrote this together. its not a feature, its a collab

We're all gonna cry and then afterwards we're all gonna hug cuz this song just inflicted so much emotional damage upon all of us

[minhosimthings]

Red Lights

Symphony Smut Series Day 10: Stray Kids' Red Lights

Lyric: I cannot breathe without you being right by my side

Pairings: bf!idol!Seungmin × fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, hard!dom!Seungmin, sub!reader, p in v sex, mirror sex, degradation, dumbification, fingering, swearing, unprotected sex (not for you), reader gets called 'pup'

A/N: sorry for the delay everyone! I couldn't finish it early so I just finished it now, while waiting for my eggs to boil. And I obviously had to include this amazing song about traffic lights!

THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST

Seungmin hated upsetting you.

And what he hated more was when he did upset you and you gave him the silent treatment.

Seungmin loved hearing you talk. The voice of your melody gently bouncing off of his ears giving him peace as you ramble on about your day.

But sometimes, some very rare times, Seungmin couldn't handle it. So as you were ranting to him, about how some bitch at work made you feel like you're not pretty, he snapped.

And now, he was standing by your bedroom's door, tapping his knuckles again and again on the wood.

"Pup let me in, please." He pleaded. He could hear sounds from the bedroom, which he assumed were your sobs, which broke his heart even more.

Stupid stupid choreo, he thought to himself, he had been too exhausted with the new comeback and now he had taken it out on perhaps the only person who could comfort him.

While considering if he should break the door down and make up a dramatic speech to narrate to you, the door cracked open.

And there you stood, with tear stains over your eyes, and a droopy head.

Seungmin was quick to embrace you in his arms, nudging you into the room and sitting you down by your makeup table, where your mirror lay all lit pretty with fairy lights.

"Im sorry Pup." Seungmin cooed at you, caressing your cheek, "I am so sorry."

"I hate you." You whimpered, still crying, "I just felt like an ugly piece of shit and you just- you-"

"Hey shh calm down." Seungmin pressed his hand to your thigh, as you gasped in exhaustion from the crying, "And please don't call my girlfriend an ugly piece of shit."

"But I am aren't I? You deserve someone better than me." You sob, not being able to stop your emotions, when you find Seungmin's lips on top of yours. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he tasted you.

He manuveoured you so you were facing the mirror. He was right behind you, his eyes hard. “The woman you're looking at right now is the prettiest one I've ever seen. How can you say she's ugly?” You opened your mouth to say something, but a moan escaped instead as he bit into your shoulder. He begins to press you against the counter, your body bending over as he continues to press wet kisses on your nape.

“You need a reminder about how pretty you are,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin making you shiver, heat spreading to your body as his hands unzipped your dress from behind, letting the fabric fall on the floor. “Ah fuck Min,” you moan to him as his palms knead your breasts through the bra.

“You look away from the mirror even once…,” he said, his hands squeezing your breasts roughly, his head propped up to your shoulder, his face set in a smirk, “and you won't get to cum”

You gasp, “Seungmin '' His hands squeeze your breasts harder, bordering on pain. “Shh pup,” he said, slowly yet firmly as if talking to a child. His hands move downwards, one moves to your hip, and for the other, his fingers slip inside your panties. You whimper when his fingertip touches your clit. At any other time, he would have been slow, and gentle when he was rubbing the bud but now? His touch was fast and unconcerned, his sole goal was to inflict punishment with pleasure.

He rubbed at your clit relentlessly, making you soak your panties with your juices. His other hand squeezes your hips. You whine, your eyes closing and he pinches your clit making you moan louder than you should, your eyes opening immediately to meet his gaze.

"Now tell me what you are. Say it."

"I-I'm pretty."

“My dumb pup can learn after all,” he whispered to your ear and then his lips kissed the clasp of your necklace. His fingers abandon your clit to swipe at your folds to gather your wetness. He chuckles as he continues to tease you like this, his hard cock pressing against your ass.

“Seungmin,” you whispered and your eyes connected with his and you knew his fingers could feel the flex of your cunt around nothing. “That's it. Look at me, pup.”

The corner of his lips curled up a little. You squirmed in pleasure as his finger pushed deeper, probing your wet folds. A soft moan escaped your lips, muffled by the sound of his fingers rubbing against your swollen clit.

Looking down at you, he cupped the side of your face roughly. His other hand moved between your legs, spreading them apart once more. "You're so fucking beautiful," he breathed, “You look even better with my cock in you too.” He tapped the side of your face with his hand.

You gasped as he pushed inside of you, filling you up completely. He always stretched you past your limit. His hips almost immediately slammed against yours in a rhythm that made you moan out loud.

"You're not pretty huh?" Seungmin scoffed, in between his thrusts, "stupid stupid pup"

You moaned loudly, your body shaking under his as you gave in to the pleasure he was giving you. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have done that," you panted, your head rolling back more.

His eyes flashed with satisfaction as you apologized, your voice barely audible over the sound of your moans. “You’re sorry?” His fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts deeper into you, “Alright then.“

His pace picked up, and he started slamming into you with unrestrained force. You moaned loudly, practically screaming. Your walls clenching around him as he pounded into you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the bedroom as Seungmin fucked you harder, his hips pounding into yours. Your moans and gasps filled the air, intertwining with his rough breathing as he took you to the edge.

"So pretty aren't you?" His voice raw with desire. “A pretty pussy like this needs to be throughly fucked every day.” He laughed pounding into you, he reached down and began to rub your clit in rapid circles. The sensation is overwhelming, sending shockwaves of pleasure rolling throughout your body.

“Minnie, oh god, I'm so close…!” You moaned, your head thrown back in ecstasy as he continues to thrust and rub. Feeling the intensity of your response, Seungmin moaned in approval. He circled your clit faster and harder, drawing out cries of pure bliss from your lips.

Your moans grow louder, echoing on the walls as you feel the impending climax. "I'm cumming! Oh god, don't stop!" Each word is punctuated by a sharp intake of breath and a quivering sensation throughout your body. Your pussy gripped tightly around him, pulling him down into you, milking his cock with every thrust. Your legs tremble and your body shivers, wracked with pleasure as your orgasm crashes over you. "Fuck, I’m cumming!”

You lay there, your chest heaving as you catch your breath after the intense orgasm. You're twitching and aching all over, both from the pleasure you've just experienced and the fullness of your boyfriend still inside of you.

“Mm..Minnie,” you groaned softly, barely above a whisper. You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him down closer to you.

"You feel pretty now pup?" Seungmin raises a brow at you, tracing your waist with his finger.

"Don't worry I'll make you feel pretty."

Taglist: @ramenoil @mynameisniya150 @demigodmahash + whoever wants to be tagged, send an ask my way!

[icrypop]

The aggressive type

TMNT 2007 Raphael

2007! Raph x GN! Reader

Fluff/comfort

Im so just- Okay im smitten with 2007 raph and i feel like this might've sucked towards the end a bit but im really sorry- might need to write a smut to one of these-

ANYWAY, Requests are 100% open so pleaaaaseee ask away<33

-Writer Icy<3

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

The sewers echoed with the clashing of metal and the heated shouts of two brothers locked in combat. Raphael and Leonardo had been at it for what felt like hours, neither willing to back down. The latest argument had turned into a full-blown fight, both pushing each other to their limits.

"You think you can just keep telling me what to do, Leo?" Raphael shouted, his voice filled with anger and frustration. He swung his sai at Leonardo, who deftly blocked the attack with his katanas.

"I'm trying to keep you from doing something stupid, Raph!" Leonardo retorted, pushing back with equal force. "You always rush into things without thinking!"

Raphael's eyes blazed with fury. "Maybe if you stopped acting like you're the only one who knows what's best, we wouldn't have this problem!"

Leonardo's face hardened, his blue eyes narrowing. "This isn't about me, Raph. It's about you not taking responsibility for your actions."

"Responsibility?" Raphael scoffed, sidestepping and landing a kick to Leo's midsection, forcing him back. "You mean like how you always think you're the only one who can handle things? You don't trust any of us!"

Leonardo grunted, regaining his balance and charging forward. "That's not true! I trust you all, but you make it so damn hard when you act like a loose cannon!"

Raphael's grip tightened on his sai, his knuckles turning white. "You don't trust me, Leo. You never have. You just see me as the hothead who can't control himself."

"And what am I supposed to think when you keep proving me right?" Leonardo snapped, slashing at Raphael with swift, controlled movements.

Raph blocked the strikes, his anger boiling over. "I'm more than just my temper, Leo! But you'll never see that because you're too busy being perfect."

Leonardo's face twisted in frustration. "This isn't about being perfect, Raph. It's about being a team. And a team needs discipline, something you seriously lack."

The words hit Raphael like a punch to the gut. His temper flared, and he launched himself at Leonardo with renewed intensity. "Discipline? Is that all you care about? Maybe if you stopped trying to control everything, we'd actually get somewhere!"

Leonardo met his charge head-on, their weapons clashing in a flurry of sparks. "I'm not trying to control everything! I'm trying to keep us safe!"

Raphael's eyes flashed with hurt and anger. "Safe? You're driving us apart, Leo! You're pushing me away!"

The brothers continued their fierce exchange, neither willing to back down. Each strike, each word, cut deeper than any weapon. Their movements became more aggressive, their words more biting.

"Why can't you just listen for once?" Leonardo shouted, frustration evident in his voice. "Why do you always have to make things so difficult?"

"Because you don't get it, Leo!" Raphael yelled back, his voice cracking with emotion. "You don't understand what it's like to feel like you're never good enough. To always be in your shadow."

Leonardo paused, his breath coming in heavy gasps. "Raph, that's not true. You're my brother. We're equals."

Raphael shook his head, pain and anger mixing in his eyes. "Then start acting like it."

With a final burst of energy, Raphael threw a punch that connected with Leonardo's jaw, sending him staggering back. But Leonardo quickly recovered, retaliating with a swift kick that landed on Raphael's cheek, knocking him to the ground.

Both brothers stood there, panting and bruised, the reality of their fight sinking in. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional wounds they had inflicted on each other.

Leonardo lowered his katanas, his expression softening. "Raph... I didn't mean—"

"Save it, Leo," Raphael muttered, pushing himself to his feet. He wiped the blood from his lip, a deep bruise already forming on his cheek. "I'm done talking."

Without another word, Raphael turned and stormed out of the lair, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. Leonardo watched him go, a heavy weight settling in his chest. He knew things couldn't go on like this, but he didn't know how to fix it.

As Raphael made his way through the sewers, his thoughts were a whirlwind of anger, hurt, and confusion. He needed space, a place to cool off and clear his head. And there was only one person who could help him do that.

Raph knew where he was headed. He needed to cool off, and there was only one person who could help him do that. As he reached Y/n's house, he hesitated for a moment, his anger giving way to uncertainty. Would they understand? Would they be angry at him too? Taking a deep breath, He knocked softly, his knuckles brushing against the glass of their window, the one they always left 

"Raph?" they gasped, quickly opening the window. "What happened to you?"

"Just had a fight with Leo," he muttered, climbing inside and wincing as he landed on his bruised leg. "It's nothing."

Y/n closed the window and turned to him, their expression a mix of concern and frustration. "It's not nothing. Sit down."

Raphael reluctantly obeyed, collapsing onto the couch. Y/n disappeared for a moment, returning with a cloth-wrapped ice pack. They knelt in front of him, gently pressing the ice to his cheek.

"Hold still," they instructed softly, their fingers brushing against his skin. "You guys really went at it, huh?"

"Yeah," Raphael grumbled, wincing slightly at the cold but finding comfort in their touch. "We just can't see eye to eye sometimes."

Y/n's eyes softened as they looked at him, their fingers tenderly tracing the bruise. "I get that. But you can't keep fighting like this. It's only going to hurt both of you."

Raphael's stubbornness flared up, his jaw tightening. "Leo doesn't get it. He thinks he knows everything. He's always telling me what to do, like I'm some kind of kid."

"And you think he doesn't trust you," they said softly, their eyes meeting his. "But maybe he does. Maybe he's just worried about you."

Raph looked away, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "Worried? He doesn't trust me to do anything on my own. He always has to be in control."

Y/n sighed, their free hand reaching up to cup his unbruised cheek. "Raph, he's your brother. He loves you. He's just trying to protect you in the only way he knows how."

Raphael closed his eyes, leaning into their touch despite himself. "It's hard, Y/n. I'm not good at talking things out. I'm better at hitting stuff."

They chuckled softly, the sound a soothing balm to his wounded spirit. "I know. But sometimes, you need to talk things out. With Leo, with yourself."

Opening his eyes, Raphael found himself drawn to them, the closeness between them palpable. "Y/n, I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm always messing things up."

Y/n's gaze was filled with warmth and understanding. "Raph, you're strong. But you don't always have to fight to prove it. Sometimes, being strong means opening up, letting people in."

He shook his head, his stubbornness flaring again. "I can't. It's not who I am."

"Yes, you can," they whispered, their voice filled with quiet determination. "And it is who you are. You just need to see it."

Raphael's resistance began to crumble under their gentle persistence. "I don't know if I can change."

"You don't have to change," they replied, their eyes locking onto his. "You just have to let yourself be more than your anger. Show Leo, show yourself that you're more than that."

He sighed, the weight of their words sinking in. "It's not that easy, Y/n."

"I know," they said softly, their hand reaching to give a comforting pat on his hand. "But I'm here for you. Always."

In that tender moment, the anger and frustration melted away, replaced by a deep sense of connection and understanding. Y/n's presence was a balm to his wounded spirit, their gentle words and touch healing more than just his physical bruise.

"You're amazing, you know that?" Raphael murmured, his eyes searching theirs.

Y/n smiled, a soft blush coloring their cheeks. "You're not so bad yourself, tough guy." They share a light laugh before a comfortable silence covers the room

Y/n looked into his eyes, their smile reassuring. "You'll work it out with Leo. I know you will."

Raphael nodded, his heart lighter than it had been in days. "Thanks, Y/n."

"Anytime, Raph. Anytime."

A few days had passed since the intense fight between Raphael and Leonardo. The lair had been unusually quiet, a tense silence hanging in the air. The brothers had exchanged apologies, but the underlying tension remained. Raphael found himself thinking about Y/n often, replaying their tender moment in his mind whenever he needed to calm himself.

One afternoon, as the brothers trained in separate corners of the lair, a familiar knock echoed through the tunnels. Y/n had arrived, a determined look on their face. They greeted Master Splinter with a respectful bow before making their way to the training area.

"Leo, we need to talk," They said firmly, crossing their arms as they stood before him.

Leonardo paused, wiping sweat from his brow. "Y/n, now's not a good time. I'm training."

"Make time," they insisted, their tone brooking no argument. "This can't wait."

Sensing the seriousness in their voice, Leonardo reluctantly set his swords aside. "Fine. What is it?"

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to control their emotions. "You and Raph can't keep doing this. The fighting, the constant tension—it's tearing you both apart."

Leonardo frowned, his frustration evident. "Y/n, you don't understand. Raph is reckless. He doesn't think things through."

"And you think you always know what's best for him?" they shot back. "He feels like you don't trust him, Leo. Like you don't see his strengths."

Leonardo's eyes narrowed. "I've always trusted my brothers. But Raph... he's different. He needs to be reined in."

Y/n shook their head, their frustration growing. "No, Leo. He needs to be understood. He needs to know you believe in him."

Leonardo crossed his arms, a defensive stance. "And what makes you the expert on Raph?"

"I know enough," they replied, their voice softening. "And I care about him."

Leonardo's expression changed, surprise flickering in his eyes. "You care about him? What does that mean?"

Y/n hesitated, their cheeks coloring slightly. "I just... care about him as a friend. And I won't stand by while you two tear each other apart."

Leonardo smirked, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Just as a friend, huh? Seems like you care a bit more than that."

Y/n's blush deepened, but they held their ground. "Leo, this isn't about me. It's about you and Raph. You need to start treating him like an equal, not someone who needs to be controlled."

Leonardo sighed, rubbing his neck stressfully. "You're right. I just... I worry about him. He's always so angry, so ready to fight."

"Then help him manage that anger," Y/n said softly. "Be his brother, not his commander."

Behind a closed door, Raphael had been listening, his heart pounding. He hadn't expected Y/n to confront Leonardo, and he certainly hadn't expected Leo to tease them about their feelings. He felt a mixture of emotions—surprise, hope, and a lingering anger at Leo.

Leonardo's face softened, his defensive posture relaxing. "Alright. We'll try. For both of us."

Raphael nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips, but he stayed hidden, waiting for Y/n to leave.

Y/n reached out, taking Leonardo's hand briefly. "Look, I know he can be a hotheaded asshole, but you’ve gotta understand he’s still your brother…I'm not saying fix it all tonight, but work on fixing it slowly. He loves you, he’s just mad at the world right now."

Leonardo gave a small nod, finally understanding things. "Thanks, Y/n. And... sorry for being an asshole."

Y/n smiled back, shaking their head. "It's okay, Leo. Just promise me you'll try."

"I promise," Leonardo replied, his resolve clear.

Y/n gave a final nod before turning to leave. Once they were gone, Raphael emerged from his hiding place, his eyes locking onto Leonardo.

"You heard all that, didn't you?" Leonardo asked, a knowing look on his face.

"Yeah," Raphael admitted, stepping closer. "And Y/n's right. We need to fix this."

Leonardo nodded, sincerity in his eyes. "I know, Raph. We will. But... you should know they really care about you."

Raphael's heart skipped a beat, but he kept his composure. "Yeah, I figured. Thanks for not making it weird or something..."

Leonardo smiled, clapping a hand on Raph's shoulder. “You should go talk to them"

Raphael didn't need to be told twice, he nodded as they locked hands together in a mutual understanding. Not now, not tomorrow but eventually they’d get past whatever roadblock they were at. Raph made his way to Y/n's apartment, his heart pounding with each step. When he arrived, he knocked firmly on their window, waiting for them to answer.

Y/n opened the window, surprise and worry in their eyes. "Raph? What are you doing here?"

"I heard what you said to Leo," Raphael began, his voice steady. "You didn’t have to do that y’know.."

Y/n sighed, irritated “Listen, he needed to understand and I knew you weren’t gonna do it-”

“He told me you had feelings for me…I overheard…it” He mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

Y/n's eyes widened, and immediately they started to ramble, words tumbling out in a rush, panicked that their friendship with the hothead would be ruined. "Raph, I'm so sorry if I overstepped. I didn't mean to I-I just didn't think a-and then i started falling for you faster then I could stop —"

He interrupted them by stepping forward and pressing his lips to theirs, a deep kiss to their lips, his hands gently cupping their face. Y/n's eyes fluttered closed, their heart racing as they melted into the kiss, their hands resting on his plastron as his hands found their hips, pulling them close to him.

When they finally pulled apart, Raphael rested his forehead against theirs, his voice soft. "I know now. And I feel the same way."

Y/n's eyes shimmered, their voice barely a whisper. "Raph..."

He silenced them with another tender kiss, their connection solidifying the bond they shared. In that moment, all the tension and uncertainty melted away, leaving only the promise of a stronger, more united future.

"You really want me…want this?" Y/n asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

Raphael nodded, his eyes filled with determination. "I do. And I'm not letting anything come between us. Not even the fights between me and Leo."

Y/n smiled, they’re heart fluttering. “Your too sweet to be a hothead.” Raph chuckled, his eyes sparkling with adoration, “And your too stubborn to not be mine.” and with that, he pulled them in for another deep kiss, that seemingly being an undeniable feeling, Y/n cherished.

[lostinvasileios]

im very sorry for asking this and please ignore it if its too much but,

have you.... ever been... su1c1d4l during your journey? did it... i dont know, ever make your deities feel... disrespected? like, you cant stop feeling so depressed and hopless and it just sort of hurts them? something like that? im sorry i dont know how to phrase it

thank you for reading this im so sorry if it triggered you or anything

Greetings, sweetbee. I'm so sorry you're feeling this way, please, don't feel worried about reaching out to someone about this. I'm happy to help. 🩷🩷

Okay, so... Baby bee, it doesn't hurt deities when you feel depressed. When you battle suicidal thoughts. Or anything else that falls under those categories. Self harm, abusive environments, ect. They don't expect you to live for them, they don't expect you to suddenly become happy and for your mental illnesses &/or struggles to just pop out of existence because you're now worshiping or practicing.

Because they understand it.

I believe gods were once human a few times. I believe that gods understand the conditions, the harm, the - well - everything. They aren't going to approach your vulnerability with demands.

Now... I did struggle with it. I still do from time to time. I dealt with suicidal thoughts and depression since I was in the 2nd grade. And, in no way did it ever... Harmfully impact my relationship with my deities. My self harming never made them disgusted, they never judged me for the ways I'd cope, for the triggers I had, for the needs they met during my toughest times.

Yes, you can live for a deity or deities. I actually do it. It saved my life. But it's optional. And they won't feel - betrayed, or something like that because you cannot say with certainty you'll live for them. That you'll survive for them.

I didn't have a reason to keep living, I didn't see one. And that's why my deities became it. That's why we swore it to one another. Not out of obligation, not out of fear of them being hurt from otherwise.

In my experience, the only hurt I've seen from my deities regarding my mental issues and ect, was - well - the pain it caused me. It pained them to see me in pain. But it didn't make them want to leave me, it didn't make them irritated or feel disrespected because I cried in their presence. They didn't feel disrespected when I had so many fears and doubts that I for a long time couldn't even believe they were really... Real.

Deities know the difference from fear, from sorrow and pain speech, to disrespect and blatant hateful speech. They know your intentions, even if you yourself do not.

It can hurt your deities when they witness their beloved going through such a hard time. When they see them going through abuse, torment, and inflicting that pain on themselves, or seeing it as they deserved it/ect.

Deities want you to live a life that makes you happy, that's - healthy and loving for you. For your soul. They don't want to see their loved devotee/practitioner off themselves, to cut or starve themselves, to punish themselves for what other people did to them or what they feel is deserving of doing so. If that makes sense. They want to help. To be there. To try and let you see that you are lovable, that there is a life out there for you, that - you're worth it.

Apollon witnessed my depression firsthand when I started practicing. He didn't scowl at me when I was crying my heart out. Snotting and gasping, just - being a very big mess in front of him. He didn't see me as weak or as disrespectful. In fact, I've found out that deities - enjoy it. Well, not seeing you so upset, of course. But they enjoy that you trust them enough to do that with them.

To let yourself be so - raw. To feel these deep, stabbing emotions around them. From what I've experienced, they love being able to comfort their sweet ones. They love being able to tenderly hold them and shower them in kisses &/or kind words. To - reassure them.

Apollon listened to my vents night after night, he held my hands and let me know I was heard. I was - seen. I was loved.

Despite how much I feared love, despite how much I thought nobody would ever be able to understand, my deities showed me just that. Understanding, love, care, gentleness, and everything else I thought I never deserved. Especially not from beings so beautiful and perfect in my eyes.

You don't need to be scared to show your emotions around your deities. To show them your wounds. To - show them your pain. Just as, you don't need to be afraid to show them your happiness. Your interests. Your safe spaces.

Your deities want to be there for you, I promise. 🌼

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Alright, I took a quick nap and Ive decided that I wanna get the UTM reenactment over with as quickly as possible so Im reading chapter 42 and then I'll reward myself with some pain au chocolats and not thinking about this book for the rest of the day and watching the 2002 takarazuka flower troupe production of elisabeth instead. lets go

Chapter 42

here we fucking go with the illyrian wingspan-dicksize correlation, how would Amren even know that isnt she above sex or something. Honestly, I think Cassian would know wayyyyy more about that. on account of all the gay sex hes having i mean. I thought of that joke and then I realized that you could interpret it to mean that he knows about that because hes illyrian and has a dick, but I want to make it very clear that this is a gay sex joke

how come wings are so sensitive that just barely stroking them makes you moan and shudder but you can still fly with them in harsh winds with no issue. My headcanon is that wings arent actually that sensitive, Rhysand and Cassian are just weirdos with a specific kink

This conversation Feyre and Rhys are having about his wings is so weird, its like dirty and yet uncomfortably clinical

oh Rhysand is quicker than death just fucking kill me, im getting so angry again

Syphons are called 'Trichtersteine' ['funnel stones' or 'funnel gems'] in german which is more accurate to how we're actually told they work imo but it sounds pretty lame

Is it just me or is Rhysand being kinda weirdly paranoid rn. I mean granted, they did just get attacked with ash arrows so maybe hes actually doing a good job for once and Im just biased against him

Okay so we finally get some night court fae wearing white, but of course its not for moon symbolism its so they can blend in with the rock of the mountain because this series does nothing but disappoint me

The Hewn City actually sounds really cool, why couldnt this have been the secret city where we spend most of our time, you couldve made it a whole thing about Feyre healing from her trauma UTM through like, exposure therapy or something idk. That wouldve been neat and dramatic, her healing from her UTM trauma in the place that inspired it with the person that inflicted it. I mean, maybe that would be less healthy and even more controversial than Feysand already is but then you could atleast lean into the dark romance of it

I mightve said this already but you knowwww sjm is NOT a painter and consulted ZERO painters because Ive never heard of anyone think about creating art the way feyre does

and Mor is wearing red AGAIN why would you make this a trigger for Feyre just go back and edit it out its not like it matters

God, the description of her outfit is so deeply discomfortingl like it literally is exactly what she wore while she was being drugged assaulted but atleast they left the bodypaint out this time

"[Keir] looked at my face, then my body. I had thought that he would stare and drool greedily but... there was nothing. No emotion. Just ice cold. Shaking internally, - from anger and revulsion - I followed Mor." Im sorry, is she mad that Keir doesnt find her hot????

Theres something uncomfortable about Feyre referring to Rhysand as 'Mor's Lord' especially when we just had a whole paragraph describing her as a proud and empowered queen

"Usually, one Syphon was enough for an Illyrian to to able to steer his urge to kill down the right path." what???

Now shes describing Azriel as dark and beautiful as death and oughhhhhh i knoww im the only who cares about this and its for a pretty stupid reason but I care a lot and it makes me very angry

Feyre referring to a 19 year old Mor as 'barely more than a child' is weirdddddd

of COURSE hes wearing a black tunic for this, I cant believe this is the guy that the fandom has designated the fashion lover when he has two (2) outfits

Feyre describing Rhysand as sooooo powerful and beautiful with a face of nightmares and dreams makes me want to vomit, but more importantly, it makes me yearn to rewatch the 1996 takarazuka star troupe production of Elisabeth with Asaji Saki as Death who unirionically fits all of Feyres descriptors 1000 times better

Not Rhysand using Feyres Cursebreaker title while hes thoroughly humiliating her

Now Feyre is calling him a god, bro youre not gonna be able to have sex if you jack him off this hard hes gonna be all sore

Imagine being a hewn city noble and you all get together because your high lord wants something from you and youre kinda scared because hes the worst, and then you just have to watch him finger some random lady. and you cant leave because then he'll just kill you

I dont like that this is framed as empowering to Feyre, i think its one thing to write a female character who sexualises herself in order to empower herself but the fact that Feyre is doing this at the behest of Rhys automatically renders it non-empowering to me. Like yeah, she obviously consented to this but it wasnt her idea but this was not her idea and this is not something she usually does, the only times shes been sexualized like this is because it was part of some plan that Rhysand came up with

"[Keir] apparently clung to the power. But Rhys was the power." i hate that that sentence made me think of Keir/Rhysand as a ship why am I so goddamn yaoi-brained. And yeah, i know theyre related but according to Rhys himself, he and Mor are only cousins in the most distant sense, so. Man, that would make the IC dynamics so much more fucked up but also so much funnier

Theyre trying so hard to make this hot n sexy but its just so unappealing and dragged out. Granted, sorry if this is TMI, but I did just jerk off so Im all out of horniness for the next little while so maybe I just dont like this because Im not in the mood but idk. theres something so annoying about this, i think its how over-the-top and artificial Rhysands hotness feels, not to mention the fact that he is absolutely not my type

Imagine being Keir rn, just trying to do your job and tell your high lord everything that he needs to know, meanwhile his high lord is sitting in front of him fondling his new sex slave and you just have to keep a straight face. i mean, he sucks ass so i guess he deserves it but man

Presented to you with no further comment: "My breasts became heavy and full, longing, desiring, just like my crotch."

goddamnit, Rhysand just said that he put Feyre on his leash and then Keir made a kinda slutshame-y remark about her clothes and then I thought Rhys was like "maybe I'll put you on a leash too" but it was Feyre who said that. another loss for big gay incest

"He liked this as little as I did" uhhhhh no offense girlie but you actually seem to be having a pretty great time rn

I dont even know what to say about this part where Feyre is like, detaching herself from her thoughts that are calling her a traitor a liar and a whore ?? I think thats whats happening here?? Like, its trying so hard to be sexy but its invoking the imagery of Feyre's (and even Rhysand's) trauma and its just very strange

It took Rhys a fucking eternity to actually touch her pussy

What if Keir developed a voyerism kink because of this. would that be fucked up or what

Its so weird how Feyre thinks about how maybe Rhysand doesnt like sex or being desirable anymore because of amarantha and that certainly sounds like a trauma response he should have but instead it just never matters

"I had been tortured and tormented but my pain was nothing compared to his." YOU DIED

Oh man I cant believe I completely forgot about the absolutely iconic part where Rhysand gets so mad Keir for calling the woman he introduced as a whore a whore that he telepathically breaks his hand about it

what was the point of doing that, Feyre didnt even seem to like it that much

[gailhai1storm]

You are the closest thing I have to an Ender’s Game mutual and you like the mechanisms so I inflict this brain dump upon ye (/lh)

Ender Runs ends up on his own at some point after the war ends and the end of the first book (Preferably the closer to the end of the war because I think it makes this a bit funnier and more angst potential) and Ender ends up finding an unfamiliar ship and wondering on to assess the danger or if it’s like right after the war in a state of extreme emotional distress and The Aurora decides hmm let’s take in this traumatized genius child after the fixes something while mumbling to himself. He hides when he hears people coming on the ship they seem very rowdy and violent ( like seriously that Johnny guy just threatened to shoot somebody because they didn’t want to go out for dinner) and they takeoff and now we have the entirety of the mechanisms and Ender Wiggins on the same ship

I personally would make it so the mechanisms just absorb this traumatized genius child who committed Xenocide into the crew he can keep a beat an is just messed up as the rest of them and Ender finally gets some “responsible” adults in his life

Sorry for dumping my delusional happy crossover on you but you gotta do what you gotta do

dont be sorry this is so rad oh my god!

idk if you write fan fic but if you wrote this I would read it so fucking fast you don't even understand.

ender would have such a time with the mechs I think he would be trying so hard to analyst those fuckers and I don't know how the fuck that would go but it would be fun!

god im inain abou this too now.

that you

[mattstattos]

Busy | M•S

paring -> bf!matt x reader

warnings -> past traumas (abuse:physical, s/a)

summary -> you’ve been trying to get in contact with matt he hasn’t been answering, with your past having an abusive ex you start to overthink everything

word count : 617

———————————————————

As you clocked out of the hospital where you work; you felt a huge wave of relief come over you. Finally, a break you’ve been looking forward to all week. You’ve been working non-stop all this month and haven’t gotten the chance to spend quality time with your boyfriend, matt.

as you open the door to your car and get situated, setting your backpack in the seat next to you, you pick up your phone to text matt. you write “hey matty, i finally have a couple days off! can i come over?” you sigh setting your phone down and pulling out of the parking garage.

2 hours later….

As time passes you feel your mind start to spiral. what if i said or did something wrong? what if he lost interest? you try to shake those thoughts but to no avail. you lose control and your heart starts to pump uncontrollably fast.

tears fall from your eyes your past comes flooding back. the words that were said, the pain inflicted upon you. a healed wound becoming fresh again with every tear that falls from your eyes. your chest tightens and the weight of worthlessness washes over you. your heart races as you relive the moments that sculpted you, the moments that broke you.

remembering the way your voice fell upon deaf ears. his hands being raised and falling leaving marks along your cheeks. you having to tell your family, holding back tears, that you tripped up the stairs chuckling at how clumsy you were. they saw the pain in your eyes, but you convinced them he loved you and he didn’t do it.

you remember the way your body was used. the way he touched you in a way to apologize. tears streamed from your eyes as you laid there unable to move. you “made him upset” and you “had to deal with the consequences.” and as you cry the weight of it all crushing down on you, knowing you’ll never be able to get rid of the burden of your past.

you wipe your drenched face making your way out of the front door. you make sure you have your phone and your keys stumbling to your car your body weak.

you put your car in park taking in the house in front of you. the triplets. you take you keys out of the ignition with shaking hands making your way up the sidewalk.

you raise your arm hesitating to knock not wanting his brothers to see you in this state, a mess of tears and emotions. you take a deep breath before knocking ever so lightly on the door.

the door creaks open to reveal matt’s face originally in annoyance but as he reads your face his emotions change instantly into worry. “what’s wrong? what happened?” the questions spill out of his mouth but your unable to answer. you feel a lump in your throat. tears well in your eyes as matt pulls you into his chest. “it’s okay, i got you” he says pulling you inside.

you both make your way to his room plopping on his bed with you in his lap. you lift your head from the nape of his neck. you clear your throat, “you didn’t answer my text” you let out. “i thought i did something wrong. “ you say as matt strokes your hair. “baby, im sorry. i just got out of a meeting. i’ve been busy all day” he admits feeling guilty knowing your train of thought . you feel a sense of relief all your thoughts suddenly gone. you stop crying and readjust, him spooning you. his arms pulling you in close as you drift off to sleep.

a/n: this is short but i’ve had this idea in my notes app brewing. someone probably already did this but this is my version! i hope you like it 💖

[straight-to-the-pain]

Im very intrigued by ur blog but english isn't my first language, can u pls elaborate on what whump means? I genuinely have no clue😭😭

Oh no worries and I'm sorry that I am replying to this so late, I genuinely missed it!

To put it super simply, whump is fictional content where a character gets hurt and the audience enjoys it. This can involve hurt/comfort, where the character is first hurt and then comforted, or can be hurt no comfort, where the focus is just the pain.

The suffering can be emotional or physical, and some people prefer whump scenarios with environmental suffering and some prefer it when someone inflicts the suffering intentionally, in which case that person is usually called a whumper.

The character who gets hurt (whumped) is called the whumpee and there can also be a caretaker who looks after them.

This is quite simplistic and obviously you don't have to use any of these words or archetypes but that's the gist of whump!

[glacierclear]

im sorry i need to dump all my thoughts about ada x leon somewhere for personal fulfillment reasons,

big disclaimer: resident evil canon/lore is inconsistent and my feelings/thoughts on all this is NOT me stating it as fact. It's 99% speculation and me interpreting context. I'm just having fun!

it's really wild that i started my resident evil experience hating Ada. I did not understand her character and the way she's portrayed is very inconsistent and confusing (probably on purpose) and, like many others, I assumed the choices she made and the pain she inflicted on others was malicious and intentional.

But something clicked recently,,,I understand now that she didn't choose this life. She doesn't WANT to be a spy. She doesn't WANT to be a mercenary. Everything she was and everything she had was taken and stripped from her. She doesn't even have a real name anymore. I think seeing the small insight of her backstory in the biohazard manga really put all the pieces together and brain blasted me with understanding. Her entire character (to me, at least!) revolves around survival and self-preservation. She is a SELFISH character, not because of ego or power, but because of a LACK of power. She no longer has autonomy over her life in a way that matters and so the only thing left for her is to stay alive.

And I just think that ties so beautifully with Leon's struggles. Both of them being forced into this life where they have to live and die at the hands of the people who control them. And, listen...listen...it's overdramatic as fuck and a VERY idealistic/romanticized interpretation of their relationship, but honestly it makes me hella emotional thinking about Leon potentially being one of the few things in life Ada wants to live for other than herself. Him being the only person in the entire series who has ever shown her genuine, selfless kindness and care,,, and the fact that her circumstance and the trappings of her life forced her to betray him and she has to live with that guilt and has to come to terms with the fact that she will never genuinely connect with people because who even is she anymore? She has no sense of self.

And her entire campaign in RE6 resonates me in such a weirdly poignant and impactful way. RE6 has some WONKED UP writing and it's so silly and stupid; but I think if it was tweaked a little bit it would be a genuinely moving story about a woman losing her agency and bodily autonomy to a violent man who wants to own her and her fighting with his fabricated, demented vision of her. It's a manifestation of his greed and possession...and then she kills her clone and immediately after she sees Leon again and his first immediate instinct is to protect her and sacrifice himself again for her and throw himself into MORE bullets for her even after the betrayal of RE2 ........ and then after that she finally snaps and FINALLY chooses to fight for HER morals and HER justice by killing Simmons' bioweapon.

Like, listen, I hate the trope of "woman traumatized being saved by a man" in most cases, but something about the way I see Leon and Ada just makes SENSE man.

The fact that she specifically goes out of her way COUNTLESS times to protect him and save him and none of it is enough to get him to forgive her. None of it will ever be enough but she keeps trying anyways. Like, damn, his entire mission is Spain is only possible because Ada saved his ass like...four times??? And you can make reasonable arguments that she doesn't care about him he's only important for her mission, and to be honest I think that interpretation is also valid, but for me personally I just think she cares about him so much but it's in his best interest to continue believing she doesn't care.

And I just want them to be happy. But it will probably never work out between them, just due to everything...they can't escape their lives. They're both kept alive by two opposing morality systems. Leon's guilt and unyielding need to fight for truth and innocence and to protect everyone he's lost and everyone who depends on him. And Ada to hold onto herself and what whittling remains of self-identity and independence she still has when it was all taken from her, even to the point of someone making a damn clone out of her.

Man I just love them so much I'M SO EMOTIONAL!!!!!!!

[kanonavi]

hello tumblr user kanonavi who is 1/3rd of the reason i started rereading tgcf. i have come to collect my personal apology for the emotional damages inflicted upon me for the past 5 days. and i have also come with THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS (mostly feelings)

- icb i put off this reread so long hualian are so romance. theyre jsut Romance......... absolutely floored by every throwaway bit of dialogue they had....... in shambles forever....,

- sqx arc was not as painful as the first few times i read it bc i now stand with my cancelled wife (he xuan) I STILL LOVE SQX AND THEY DESERVE EVERYTHING GOOD. BUT HX WAS REAL FOR ALL OF THAT. i love revenge

- i wanna know your thoughts on ling wen bc u mentioned having mixed feelings on her but i loved her so bad all the way to the end so im curious ljdkdjf

- i am not immune to backstory arc pt2. read it last last (?) night at like 3am and cried myself to sleep its just so gutting every timeeeeeee.... the hc plot that builds in that arc is ofc one of my favorites in the entire novel though :')

- the chapter w the cave of statues took me like 2+ hours to get through because i was feeling so insane abt it

i feel bad dropping this block of text in ur askbox sorry. will leave it there for now LOL

Omg hiiiii tumblr user stardust-make-a-wish welcome back from the yaoi cocaine pit :3 I know you're here to collect emotional damages, but I must make it known that I'm not even remotely sorry <3

Also you should feel bad for yourself instead of for me because I can only respond to huge blocks of text with even bigger blocks of text, so (TGCF Spoilers Ahead) and also I am so sorry lmaooooo

UGH you're so right that hualian is the most romance forever they are just so *clenches fists and sobs*....... They're always there for each other and they're so in love and they've been through so much and I just want them to be able to rest because it's what they deserve.

I will never once say that Hu Xuan wasn't justified in everything he did cuz like. Shi Wudu had it coming what a piece of shit. But at the same time Qingxuan is my wife and I will not tolerate my wife being harmed. So like revenge slay yes but also I am still cancelling He Xuan and spraying him with the water bottle (even though he is already very very damp).

Yesyesyes Ling Wen. So my thought about Ling Wen is that she kinda girlbossed a little too close to the sun, but at the same time you look at her circumstances both past and present and have to understand why she did all of that. It already would have been hard enough for her to gain any kind of recognition as a woman, much less in the Heavenly Court, so her ruthlessness is completely understandable. But at the same time, I don't really think the Brocade Immortal deserved what she did to him nor was taking Bai Wuxiang's side in the final conflict a real cool thing of her to do. I can't fully be a hater though because her own thoughts about everything are clearly so nuanced (See: The final convo she had with Xie Lian about the Brocade Immortal, which I am still thinking so incredibly hard about to this day).

I think that Ling Wen is interesting in the same way that I find other characters like Mu Qing, He Xuan, and Yin Yu interesting. It's in the sense that even if I don't really agree with all of the actions that they took, it's very easy to look at them and come to an understanding of why they did what they did. And I have varying degrees of like for all of the characters I just listed, but that doesn't change the fact that they're all Compelling. So it's almost like a begrudging respect that I feel for Ling Wen, if I were to boil it down into simple terms.

aaaaaaaaaa The Horrors(tm) :sob: Even though I could talk about Xie Lian's arc through that part of his backstory for a million years, you're so right that Hua Cheng's arc through it is also so interesting to watch. It really goes to prove that Hua Cheng is different from everyone else in Xie Lian's life up until this point, because yes there's the very obvious throughline of Hua Cheng wanting to protect Xie Lian (rather than expecting his protection), but even more importantly that feeling never changes even when Xie Lian has his mini corruption arc.

Like, Hua Cheng fell in love with the pure and virtuous Crown Prince of Xianle but not for that quality. Instead of being ashamed and looking at Xie Lian with scorn when he was like "What if I kill everyone actually" Hua Cheng is like "Then let me be your sword". There's the element of not wanting Xie Lian to dirty himself that Hua Cheng carries for the entire story but the point is in that he is not a voice who would tell Xie Lian to stop having those thoughts if it's truly what he wants (Unlike what his parents or Feng Xin and Mu Qing would probably say).

I'm going to write an essay about their character dynamic one day istg I am chewing through the drywall

The cave statues chapter......... *passes away*. Like on one hand that chapter is so funny because yes Hua Cheng is just an absolute certified freak (POV my roommate telling me earlier on in my reading that HC is a porn addict and me being like "pssht noooo" but then getting to this chapter several months later and being like "O h.") but on the other hand THE CONFESSION??????? Like. All I can do is gesture wildly at the storyboard animatic that someone made of that scene on YouTube while absolutely fucking sobbing. There is a reason why the cover of volume 6 felt somehow more intimate than the cover of volume 4 where they're literally making out.

Anyway I'm patting Hua Cheng on the head like It's okay buddy Xie Lian loves you because you're a certified freak, he's seen too much of this world to be weirded out even a little bit. Which is why those two are perfect for each other <3

I'm glad you had so much fun on your reread, have fun with the brainworms :3

[autumnshighlady]

I’ve Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 15)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: Azriel has a tough decision to make

warnings: Night Court slander, semi graphic torture, Rhysand is horrible, the usual

word count: 5.8k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: oh my god i am so so so sorry this took so long! life has been insane lately i havent had the energy to write. Anywho, this chapter is just the start of something super big so buckle up and look for hints hehe alsO PLEASE GIVE FEEDBACK ON THIS CHAPTER IM BEGGING

feedback is appreciated, just no hate pls! these are just my opinions, i’m more curious to see how you all like the writing and characterization and storylines!

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7 // part 8 // part 9 // part 10 // part 11

read on ao3

Spotify playlist

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

AZRIEL POV

Azriel couldn’t help but flinch at the sight of your limp body, arms strung up like you were a piece of meat dangling from the chains. He had thought himself to be good at shutting off his emotions when it came to his line of work, but this felt different. Wrong, even. It confused him – not once had he ever hesitated, ever even considered disobeying his High Lord’s orders down in these dungeons.

Your hair was matted and lifeless around your face, the weak rise and fall of your chest being the only indication that you were even still alive. The beautiful gown that adorned your body at the ball was now tattered and dirty, barely clinging onto your skin in some places. Azriel gulped as he stared at your unconscious form, wiped out from Rhysand’s attempts to penetrate your mind.

Evidently, the High Lord was beyond frustrated, his brow furrowed and sweaty from the efforts. “I’ve never seen this,” He muttered, running a hand through his dark hair. “Not once. I’ve always been able to get inside people’s heads. Why not hers?”

“I don’t know.” Azriel responded. He felt his shadows curl around his scarred fingers. Normally they did so to encourage him to get the job done, but this time felt different. It was as if they wanted him not to end your life, but to reach out and free you from the shackles. But he ignored them.

Rhys slumped against the wall, panting slightly. “I need answers, Az.” He snapped, voice sharp. “How is this girl able to withstand my magic? And how the hell did she access some ancient spell that allowed this bond to form with Nesta? I would prefer to know before I end things, so whatever shit she may have put in motion can be stopped.”

Azriel stiffened. “End things?

The High Lord sighed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on, Azriel. You know this is how it has to end. She spent months plotting against our court, and possesses some form of magic within her bond with Nesta. She’s a threat and you know it. And threats like that must be eliminated.”

He spoke with that authoritative voice that Azriel had seen bring so many others to their knees in obedience. He felt it tug at his bones, the instinct to obey his High Lord. Azriel had always considered himself loyal, never needing that extra kick to submit to his superior. Until now. “I disagree.” Azriel said sternly. “(Y/N) has lied, yes. But she has shown no signs of intending to inflict harm upon this court. All she wanted was to get out, and she knew we wouldn’t let her.”

“I don’t recall you being this blind, brother.” Rhysand’s voice was low as his violet eyes sternly stared down his spymaster. “Did she flash you her tits during training sessions? Is that why you’ve suddenly gone soft?”

“No. I think we pushed her too hard, too fast into this job she did not want. She had already lost everything in the Spring Court, and when Lucien brought her here she immediately became a prisoner. Did you expect her to bow at your feet and be eternally grateful for letting her stay here? We should have given her a reason to want to become a part of this court, not force her into it within a span of months.”

Rhysand let out a growl, and Azriel knew he was pushing his limits. “Careful, Az.” He said. But Azriel ignored him.

“Can you blame her for resenting us?” The shadowsinger continued, against his better judgement. “Our High Lady destroyed her court, and when Lucien brought her here she was forced to live indebted to the female who allowed her home to be ruined.”

There was a low rumble within the cell as Rhysand’s dark mist began to creep out from behind him. “Choose your next words wisely, Azriel. Or I’ll begin to think you’ve helped her.”

“I didn’t, and you know it. But your protectiveness for your mate is clouding your judgement as a leader, Rhysand. This girl does not deserve to die for what she has done.”

Before he could breathe another word, a sharp pain cut through his throat as Rhys’ dark power wrapped around it, cutting off his air. Shock flooded through him, hazel eyes bulging as the violet eyed male snarled at him. He didn’t try to fight back. Not once had his brother gone this far – sure, they had their fair share of nasty fights, but never like this. No matter how angry they had gotten with each other, neither had ever threatened the life of the other. Until now.

“That is not your call to make, spymaster.” Rhysand snarled furiously. “I am your High Lord before anything else, and you are sworn to me. My word is law, not yours. You will go and search for more insight into this bond between her and Nesta. Whether you find anything on it or not, (Y/N) will die by your hand at dawn tomorrow. You will not protest, and you will not breathe a word about this to anyone. If I sense even for a second that you will disobey me, I will throw you in a cell beside this scheming whore. Am I understood?”

Azriel nodded as best he could, body still frozen in shock. After a moment, Rhysand’s tendrils finally retreated, leaving the spymaster gasping for air. Despite working alongside him, being the executioner to his master for over 500 years, Azriel had never known what it was to be like on the receiving end of his High Lord’s pure fury until now. He glanced over at your strung-up figure, guilt churning in his gut. You had endured this torture for days, a torture Azriel only received a glimpse of.

As the spymaster inhaled deeply kneeling on the cold floor, his shadows whispered to him. He knew deep down that he had a choice to make, one like never before. 500 years of loyalty to Rhysand was being put to the test, something Azriel never thought would happen. Another glance at how intensely Rhys was staring at your imprisoned, starved form was all he needed to winnow away.

*********************

Azriel’s throat still burned from the pressing of Rhys’ dark mist. He kept his demeanour calm as he approached the doors to the library at the House of Wind, even though his stomach was in a thousand knots. He knew what he was about to do was treason at the highest order, and the second Rhys found out he would be flayed alive. The clenching and unclenching of his scarred fingers was the only indication of his disturbance as the spymaster was met with Clotho. Her pale robes shone in the blue light of the library as she approached him.

Shadowsinger, Her elegant writing appeared on the paper in lieu of her voice. What can I do for you?

“I need to see Gwyneth.” Azriel said, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice to not alarm the priestess.

Gwyn is occupied right now. May I take a message?

He gulped nervously. “I’m really sorry, Clotho. But I need her right now.”

That will not be possible. I suggest you return at another time, Azriel.

“Please.” Azriel hated begging, and hated pushing the priestess even more. But before Clotho could script a reply, a gentle voice sounded from behind the shelves a few metres away.

“Azriel?” Gwyn’s red hair appeared, streaming down her flowing robes as she carried an alarming amount of books. “What are you doing here?”

“Gwyn, I need to speak with you in private. Right now.” He pleaded, hoping Clotho wouldn’t shoo him away.

Gwyn’s teal eyes were puzzled, but she nodded. “It’s alright Clotho.” The priestess merely nodded beneath her hood before turning and disappearing back into the stacks.

Azriel breathed a sigh of relief as Gwyn put down the books. She walked towards one of the offices, and he followed her in silence. The room was tense as she closed the door behind him.

She crossed her arms, which made him halt. Normally his interactions with Gwyn were pleasant, leaving his shadows singing happily afterwards. But the way she was staring at him with a hardened glare made him want to shrink back.

“Where is (Y/N)?” Gwyn said sharply.

Azriel took a deep breath, unsure of how to approach this. He didn’t know what version of that night at the Hewn City had reached the ears of the priestesses. “Gwyn–”

“Don’t bullshit me for one second, Azriel.” The redhead was unyielding, but he could see the anxiousness within her as her throat bobbed with every word. “Nesta left for Autumn with Eris, but (Y/N) never returned from the Hewn City that night. What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything–” He started, but Gwyn cut him off abruptly.

“I said don’t bullshit me, you fucking liar!” Her voice rose, long fingers clenching and trembling with anger. It was enough to make Azriel take a step back, shocked at the fire within her. “I heard you grabbed her and whisked her away that night. What the hell did you do to my friend?”

Azriel leaned against the desk, wiping his face with his hand. His heart cracked a bit, knowing that trust and companionship he had built with Gwyn while training had come crashing down. He hated himself for it, for being so blind in following orders that led him to this place. His loyalty to Rhysand came at a price, one he had always been willing to pay until now. “I’m sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I was following orders.”

“What is wrong with you?” Gwyn hissed, her words cutting him sharper than Rhysand’s magic had. “You took away her one chance of leaving this gods damned court peacefully. You took away her freedom out of stupid, blind loyalty.”

“How did you know what happened that night?”

She snorted. “You and your little circle like to treat us priestesses like we’re these fragile little flowers living in our own little shelter, oblivious to the outside world. But people talk, and word reaches us. We aren’t as ignorant to the court as you think we are.”

“I never said that you were.”

“You basically just did.”

Shame washed over Azriel. He knew she was right, that he was a prick in assuming the priestesses remained clueless to what was happening in the court right now. And that’s why Clotho had been hesitant to let him into the library. “I never meant for any of this to happen.” He muttered, closing his eyes.

“Well, it did. Now tell me where my friend is, and why you’re here.”

Azriel took a breath, preparing to utter the words that would make this decision the point of no return. “I need everything you have on the bond between (Y/N) and Nesta.”

A flicker of worry crossed Gwyn’s teal eyes. “I don’t know anything–”

“Yes, you do.” Azriel interrupted her calmly. “My guess is you knew about their plan as well. Otherwise you’d be a lot more freaked out by Nesta marrying Eris.”

As panic began to set into the priestess’ face, Azriel softened his voice. “It’s ok, I’m not going to tell anyone. It makes sense that any information that Nesta and (Y/N) got on the bond was through you and your work. You are not in trouble, and nobody will hear from me that you helped them. I just need every scrap of information you were able to get your hands on regarding whatever magic they used.”

She narrowed her eyes. “So you can give it to your master like a good dog playing fetch? Not gonna happen. He’ll use it to hurt both of them. I don’t care that he’s the High Lord, I won’t let him do that.”

Azriel stood up and took a step towards Gwyn. She didn’t shrink back, but rather lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “Gwyn,” He began. “That’s not what this is. I’m not retrieving this information for Rhysand.”

The priestess blinked once, as if considering the gravity of his words. He wished he could spill the truth and tell Gwyn what he planned to do, but just uttering those words directly to her would put her at risk. “Then who are you retrieving it for?”

“Look, I am not trying to hide anything from you. But I told you… if you knew the truth, I would be putting you at risk for selfish reasons. And after all I have done, that is something I cannot live with. You just have to trust me when I say that it is for the right reason.”

“After hearing about how you so quickly stole (Y/N) away, I’m not sure if we have the same definition of the right reason, Azriel.” Gwyn’s voice was bitter, but there was a sadness to it that made the guilt churning inside of him threaten to spill over.

“I understand.” He said quietly. “And you have no reason to trust me right now. But please… if you’ve ever had any faith in me at all…just….just know that I’m doing this for (Y/N). And Nesta. If you believe anything I say, believe that.”

Silence overtook the room, the shadowsinger and the priestess standing mere inches from each other. After a long few minutes Gwyn muttered a ‘stay here’ before quickly fleeing the office.

She returned 15 minutes later with a few sheets of parchment paper and several books. They were placed upon the dusty table, and Gwyn took a deep breath. “This is everything I have on the subject,” She said shakily. “It’s not much, but it’s every document that could possibly give anything away about the bond between them.”

Without thinking, Azriel dropped to his knees in relief, bowing his head. “Thank you, Gwyn. Thank you.” His entire body was on the verge of shaking as the weight of what he was about to do began to truly set in. Everything he had known and defended was about to be put on the line.

“Promise me this, Azriel.” Gwyn spoke coldly. “Promise that this information gets into the right hands, not the wrong ones. You do whatever it takes to help my girls. After everything you and your family have done to them, you owe them that much. And more.”

“I swear it.” Azriel said solemnly, still looking at the ground. In a flash, he felt a cold blade pressing against his jaw, tilting his head upwards to gaze at the priestess. She looked like a goddess of justice, staring down at him with icy eyes.

“And I swear this to you,” Gwyn said coldly, a silver dagger in hand. “If you screw this up and they pay the price for it, no power in the world will stop me from hurting you. I don’t care that you trained me, or that you saved me on that day Hybern came. I will cut your throat if anything happens to Nesta or (Y/N) because of you. Understood?”

Azriel was enthralled at her strength. This was not the shy, nervous priestess that he had rescued from Hybern’s soldiers. Gwyn’s bravery had excelled since the second she stepped into the ring, and Azriel had marvelled at her progress during training, how comfortable she became with the outside world. Stupidly, he had credited that to his and Cassian’s training, thinking that it was what Gwyn, Nesta and the others had needed to heal like he and Cassian had. No, this strength had nothing to do with what he taught her. Behind her stern expression, Azriel knew that deep down this strength had come from the friendship formed with you, Nesta, and Emerie. He had been a fool to see it as anything other than that.

“I’m proud of you, Gwyn.” Azriel said softly before his brain could shut him up.

Despite the flicker of surprise across her face, she did not yield. “I do not need your validation. I need you to do the right thing and help my friends. Only after that will your statement be worth anything to me.”

Gwyn removed the blade from the spymaster’s throat and turned on her heel. Like a ghost in the wind, she was gone. Azriel’s chest was tight as he stood up, collecting the documents in his arms and praying that this possibly very stupid decision would be worth it. But after seeing the anger on Gwyn’s face, the hurt he had caused without even realising it…. Azriel knew exactly what he needed to do as he winnowed away.

*********************

The door in front of Azriel opened before he could raise a hand to knock, revealing the redhead male with a golden eye wide with surprise.

“Azriel?” Lucien said in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” Was all he said in response before pushing his way past Lucien into the manor.

“By all means, come in.” The male muttered sarcastically.  But Azriel paid it no mind as he scanned the large living room for any sign of Jurian and Vassa.

“I’m alone.” Lucien quipped, settling down on the large brown armchair by the fireplace. “Since that’s what you were trying to figure out. I’m surprised you came by before (Y/N). I thought she’d have visited already, but I guess she’s been enjoying Velaris too much to be slumming it down in the human lands. When you see her next, thank her for the scarf for me, will you?”

Azriel’s heart dropped, head whipping sharply towards Azriel. “What?” He didn’t even bother keeping the surprise out of his voice.

Lucien frowned. “The scarf she gave me for the solstice? Rhys delivered it a day or so after, said she was busy on a new mission and asked him to drop it off for her.”

“Rhys was here?” Dread pooled in Azriel’s stomach. His High Lord was ensuring your disappearance would be quiet, giving him time to create a cover story before eliminating you.

“Yes… Why do you look so concerned? What aren’t you telling me?”

Azriel put his head in his hands, cursing. “You have no idea what’s been going on, have you?”

Lucien was still as a statue as he spoke. “I haven’t heard from (Y/N) since I got to the manor. When Rhysand visited, he said she had picked out a scarf for me as a present, and that she was sorry she hadn’t visited, but that she was loving her life in Velaris. And that she was training under you to work for the Night Court as a spy.”

Any desire to be secretive flew out the window as Azriel explained everything to the Autumn male – how you were not freely living in Velaris, but locked away with Nesta in the House of Wind. Your time spent back at the Spring Court to spy on your own people. Nesta’s engagement to Eris as a cover to escape the Night Court. Lucien was usually a collected male in Azriel’s eyes, but he could see the disbelief and anger in his expression as he told him the truth. When he was done, Lucien leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, speaking in a low voice. “So you’re telling me that you locked away my best friend, and everything I’ve heard about her for these past few months has been a lie.” Lucien said. “Is that correct?”

“Yes.” Azriel said quietly. “And now I’m trying to fix it–”

“Fucking hell!” Lucien exclaimed sharply, standing up abruptly and pacing back and forth. “Your court is a fucking shitshow, you know that? How the fuck can you let this happen, Azriel? You’re so far up Rhysand’s ass you didn’t see any of this coming?”

“I understand you’re angry–”

“Oh angry doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Lucien hissed, his red hair gleaming in the light of the fire. “You played right into Rhys’ hands, and now (Y/N) is being tortured in a cell somewhere because you let it happen instead of growing a fucking spine. And that doesn’t even begin to touch on the fact that Nesta was treated so horribly by you people she was willing to marry ERIS out of all people just to get away from it.”

Azriel had no defence. Defeated, he hung his head. Lucien was right about everything, and it was made worse by the fact Rhysand lied about your status to him knowing that the Autumn male was the only one likely to try and do something to stick up for you.

“Now what I can’t figure out is why you’re telling me this.” Lucien folded his arms, glaring at the spymaster. “You’re either betraying Rhysand and trying to fix this mess, which is brave but incredibly stupid. Or you’ve come here to see if I somehow had anything to do with all this so you can hang me up in a cell next to (Y/N). Which is it, shadowsinger?”

”I need your help.” Azriel admitted, meeting his harsh gaze. “I’m trying to turn this around, but I need to track down Eris. You’re my only shot.”

Lucien let out a harsh, heartless laugh. “I figured. You need my help. If you thought I wasn’t going to be any use to you, I wonder if you’d have even come here and told me the truth. Or would you have just let me live on believing this lie until word got around about (Y/N) meeting her tragic end on some mission.”

Mentally, Azriel was exhausted. Two redheads ripping him a new one was beginning to chip away at him more than he was already crumbling at the weight of his decision. Like Gwyn, Lucien was right. While he respected the male, Azriel doubted he’d have even considered coming just to tell Lucien the truth about what happened if he didn’t think Lucien could help. And his moment of silence told Lucien all he needed to know, for he scoffed again. “Of course not,” He continued. “You people just love exploiting those of us without any other options and then throwing us away like garbage when we’re no longer of any use to you.”

“Then help me make this right.” Azriel pleaded. “Tell me how to get to Eris, discreetly.”

“Can’t you just free her yourself and take her to safety?”

“No, there are ancient wards in that prison. I can pass through quickly and easily, but not so much with another person. Rhys would find us within seconds if she left that cell, and kill us both.”

“Then how do you propose we get her out?”

Azriel frowned. “I’m sorry, we?”

Lucien rolled his eyes, taking a hearty swig from his glass of wine beside him. “I’m going to help you get her out.”

Azriel shook his head, not liking how many people were involved in this already. “I can’t let you.”

“Bullshit. You don’t get to tell me what to do. Not after everything you’ve done to create this mess. I’ll take you to Eris, and besides, I think I know something that can help us.”

*********************

The crisp scents of Autumn flooded Azriel’s senses as he paced the clearing. His mind whirled from his talk with Lucien, even more so at the male’s idea that they had discussed. Lucien had winnowed him here and told him to wait while he discreetly fetched Eris. It was a huge gamble – while you and Nesta had been willing to trust Eris, Azriel was not so keen. His dealings with the prince had always been tense at best, and vicious at worst. He knew he’d have to swallow his pride and put their history aside for this, however hard it may be.

Frankly, Azriel had no idea where in the Autumn Court he was. His shadows sensed nothing, no indication of where they were on the map. It briefly crossed his mind that Lucien could very well have led him into a trap as payback, but deep down Azriel knew Lucien wasn’t that type of male. However angry he might be at Azriel, he would prioritise getting you back. The clearing was massive, which made him feel far too exposed for his liking. There was a thicket of trees in the distance that he considered hiding in, but he owed it to Lucien to do as he was instructed and wait here.

It felt like hours before a strong gust of wind blew his tousled locks out of his forehead, and the presence of something Azriel could only describe as sheer power slammed into him like a wall. A thunderous roar sounded from the skies, unlike anything the shadowsinger had ever heard before. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight before him.

Three large dragons were flying ahead, circling above the clearing. Their wings were like claps of thunder, nearly sending him backwards onto the ground. Upon the back of the large black one was the unmistakable, arrogant figure of Eris Vanserra. He held onto the spikes going down the dragon’s neck as it soared above Azriel, roaring with the ferocity of an ancient battlecry. Azriel’s jaw nearly hit the ground as he spotted none other than Nesta Archeron, riding the elegant silver dragon with her hair blowing in the wind. Her eyes were a lethal glowing silver, resembling the scales of the very beast she was mounted on.

“Mother above…” Azriel whispered, flinching as he felt the ground shake beneath him. He turned around slowly, and was met with the third dragon, a riderless one with gold scales and large horns. It snaked towards him, growling fiercely. For a moment, Azriel thought the beast would open its jaws and roast him alive, but the creature paused, growling as it glanced behind the shadowsinger.

“I must say, you are the last person I expected to come here.” Came Eris’ cocky voice. Azriel turned back around, slightly nervous at the golden dragon breathing down his neck, and was faced with the other two. Ignoring Eris, his gaze landed upon Nesta.

She was perched upon the dragon like it was a horse, or even a throne, chin high like a queen from ancient times. Azriel’s breath left his body at the sight of Nesta with her hair unbound, trailing freely down her back and shining against her blood red dress. Whichever way her gaze shifted, the dragon’s did so too. It was like watching Nesta in a mirror, only her reflection was a dragon. It unnerved Azriel, and he was well aware of his vulnerability in this situation. Not only was he in enemy court, unauthorised at that matter, but three beasts he thought only existed in stories stood beside him, in the flesh.

“Lucien said you wanted to meet.” Eris said coldly. “You have ten seconds to convince us that it’s worth our time.”

“(Y/N) will die at sunrise tomorrow if we do not do something.” Azriel blurted out clumsily.

There was a moment of silence, and Eris looked towards Nesta. Her gaze was fixed on Azriel, and he squirmed underneath it. Her silver mount growled fiercely, as if it was sharing its riders' rage.

“Are we supposed to believe that you’ve suddenly had a change of heart and care about her?”

Azriel gritted his teeth. “I’ve always cared.”

Eris snorted. “No, not truly. If you had, then we wouldn’t be having this meeting. Because you’d have done something by now and grown a spine.”

“Your brother said the same thing.” The spymaster growled, already irked by having to negotiate with the Autumn prince. “I don’t need more reminding that I’ve fucked up, Eris. I just want to save her life, and I can’t do that on my own.”

“And it’s taken you this long to come to this realisation because…” Eris raised an eyebrow, amber gaze merciless. His dragon snarled, baring its teeth menacingly.

“I didn’t know Rhys would take things this far. I thought he’d want to find out everything about the bond before he made a decision on what to do with her. But he doesn’t want to wait, he wants her gone by tomorrow.”

“I assume he ordered you to do the deed?”

Azriel nodded, throat tight. “Yes. He ordered me to collect all information on the magic they used to create the bond before I…. before I kill her. Regardless of whether I came up with anything, he wants her eliminated by sunrise.”

This was probably the stupidest, craziest decision Azriel had ever made. Part of it felt wrong, betraying his found family after 500 years of peace. But when he reflected on those centuries, had he truly been happy? Had he truly felt like he was living a fulfilled life, content with what he was doing? A few weeks ago, Azriel would have been sure of his answer. Now he wasn’t, and that unsettled him.

Regardless, reached into his bag and pulled out the books Gwyn gave him. He took a breath and continued. “Which is why I brought every document the Night Court has on this magic to you. So Rhys wouldn’t get his hands on it.”

“You went to Gwyn?” Nesta burst out, rage dripping from her tongue.

“Yes.” Azriel admitted his guilt for putting Gwyn in this precarious position intensifying.

“You put her in danger by doing that!” The eldest Archeron hissed at him, her dragon responding in a similar tone. “If anything happens to her because of it, I will slaughter you, Azriel.”

He let out a dry laugh. “Gwyn said the same thing to me about you and (Y/N). I swore no matter what happened, nobody would find out I got this through her. She even put a knife to my throat.”

Eris spoke up again. “As much as I would truly love to believe you, if I recall correctly you were perfectly content sending (Y/N) to certain death weeks ago on an impossible mission under Rhysand’s orders.”

“I was trying to find a way out of it for her!” Azriel yelled, patience snapping. “A way for her to quietly flee and go build a life for herself far away from all this shit. I never told her because I didn’t want to scare her, or get her hopes up. I had the chance to explain this to her before…”

His voice trailed off, memories of seeing you strung up like an animal flashing through his mind. Azriel was no stranger to self hatred, but today it was striking him now more than ever.

Nesta’s lethal tone interrupted his thoughts. “Before what?” She demanded.

Azriel gulped, praying that the dragons wouldn’t make him their meal. “Before Rhysand interrupted and… took over.”

“Meaning?” Eris inquired, his dragon inching ever so slightly closer to the Illyrian.

“Meaning he thought I was being too soft, since I gave her water. He stopped the physical torture and spent hours trying to get inside her head until she passed out.”

“And he didn’t manage to do it?” Eris’ voice was laced with surprise, something uncharacteristic for the Autumn prince who always seemed to be two steps ahead of everyone.

“No.”

Eris and Nesta glanced at each other, unreadable expressions crossing their faces. Their dragons continued to stare down Azriel, awaiting whatever command would give them permission to incinerate him where he stood. He had a million questions for them – how the fuck did Eris have dragons? What did Beron say about all of this? Did they still plan on taking him out? But Azriel knew better than to ask them.

Nesta swung her legs to the side and crawled down the dragon’s side. To Azriel’s awe, the beast lowered its shoulder to the ground to make it easier for the female to climb off. Gracefully, Nesta’s feet met the ground and she patted the dragon’s neck. He remained frozen in his place as she stalked towards him. Like Gwyn, there was a new strength to her. This was not the half-starved Nesta who first came to the House of Wind. No, this was the female that stole from the Cauldron itself, whose name was whispered across the moors and valleys of Prythian, associated with pure death and power. Nesta’s steps were sure, silver fire expertly curling around her fingertips like Azriel’s own shadows as she stalked towards him like a lioness seizing up its prey.

“My war is not directly with you, Azriel,” Nesta said slowly. “But make no mistake. You are not innocent here. You may not have inflicted the most damage, but you willingly stood by and let your family tear me and (Y/N) down until they got pure submission. You let Cassian mock and belittle me at my lowest. You forced (Y/M)  into a job she did not want to do. You let Cassian force me to train as a warrior when that’s not at all what I wanted or needed. You didn’t do a damn thing to advocate for either of us because you’re so blinded by the sheltered little tower your circle has built over the last 500 years, ignorant to the pain you inflict on anyone who’s not a part of your family. You coming here on your own volition is the only thing in my eyes that could possibly redeem you. You will help us get (Y/N) back at all costs, or you will suffer at my hand more than you have ever suffered before.”

Being threatened for the third time that day, all Azriel could do was bow his head. “I understand.” He said.

“No, I don’t think you do.” Nesta hissed. “For your sake, let’s hope your change of heart isn’t too late.”

Azriel hadn’t even noticed Eris had climbed off his dragon and was walking towards Nesta. He stood beside her, gently resting a hand on her waist. Azriel tensed, half expecting Nesta to slap him away, but she did not. To his surprise, she looked comfortable with Eris. More so than she ever had been with Cassain. When Cassian touched Nesta, there was always some sexual suggestion beneath it. But not with Eris. Eris’ touch was comfort more than ownership, something Azriel did not expect.

In his heart, he realised Cassian and Nesta were not right for each other. It made no sense for them to be mates, and whatever they had going on was purely surface level sexual tension. There was nothing deep about it, no greater understanding of each other. Nesta and Eris seemed like a much more reasonable match, mirroring each other like they did with their dragons. As much as Azriel hated the male, and knew that these thoughts would crush Cassian’s heart, it reassured him that he had made the right choice.

“So, spymaster,” Eris piped up, cocking his head. “How are we doing to do this?”

And so Azriel began explaining.

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @queercontrarian @kitkat-writes-stuff @moonfawnx @sevikas-whore @weird-and-wise @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @kingshitonly @ladyofcherries @eerievixen @readingwritingwatching @peacecoffeeandflowers @a-frog-with-a-laptop @shadowqueen25 @lana08 @highladyofillyria @rachelnicolee @ladespedidas @little-darlingo @manonblackbeakquidditchteam13 @demirunner @terorovaerangi @hauntedandhopeful  @younxii @microwaveallthedemons @fanfictioniseverything @lovra974 @maddietheshoe @peaceandcrackers @emy1-9 @lostinfantasyworldsbi @issybee0611 @thoughtfulshepherdmongerkid @belledawnidk @whhyyynottt @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @littlebbb @piceous21 @sevendeadlyshins-blog @searchingford  @marigold-morelli @thesapphiclibrarian @