#part 2 of loyally mated

[moonlitstoriess]

Bound in Silence- Rhysand x fem!Reader part 1

Part 2 here

Y/n, Rhysand’s true mate, discovers their bond while under Amarantha’s rule. As they grow closer in captivity, Rhys remains unaware of their connection. When Feyre enters his life, y/n watches in silence as Rhysand falls for her, never revealing the truth of their bond, leading to a heartbreaking end.

Warnings: mentions of SA, abuse, character death, little fluff and too much angst

The first week under Amarantha’s rule was a descent into madness. What had once been kingdoms of power and grace now lay in shambles, High Lords stripped of their freedom, their courts brought to ruin.

Y/n, a lesser member of the Dawn Court, had survived the initial massacre, slipping through the cracks of chaos. She had always lived on the fringes, unnoticed among the more powerful, her quiet presence often overlooked. The beauty of the Dawn Court, with its pale skies and soft mornings, felt like a distant dream now. The dungeons were cold, oppressive—any trace of light long extinguished.

Word of the High Lords’ fates had spread quickly through the prisoners. Rhysand, the infamous High Lord of the Night Court, was said to be one of Amarantha’s most prized captives. His reputation as a cruel, cunning male echoed even in the darkest corners of their cell blocks. Y/n hadn’t expected to meet him, let alone stand face-to-face with the infamous High Lord during her silent wandering through the dim corridors.

Their first encounter was brief, in the murky gloom of a narrow passage. He was alone, his posture rigid, and his normally sharp features were bruised and weary, yet he still held that air of cold authority.

Y/n hadn’t expected him to stop as their paths crossed. But Rhysand’s steps faltered, his gaze locking onto hers. His violet eyes, piercing despite the fatigue, lingered on her face a moment longer than necessary.

“Dawn Court,” he said, his voice low and smooth, though roughened by days of captivity. It wasn’t a question—just an observation.

Y/n hesitated, her heartbeat loud in her chest. “Yes,” she replied softly, meeting his gaze, though her own voice was steadier than she felt.

For a long moment, Rhysand simply stared at her, his expression unreadable. There was no reason for him to notice her, no reason for him to care. She was just another prisoner, a face among many. And yet, something flickered in his eyes—something that made her breath catch, though she couldn’t name it.

They said nothing more, both of them knowing there was no safety in words here. But in that shared silence, a connection was forged—one neither of them could explain, and one that would only grow stronger in the long days ahead.

The second time they met was when y/n was in an injured state. Silently crying while trying to stop the gash on her shoulder blade from bleeding as she quickly made her way through the halls. Past the ugly laughters of Amarantha’s creatures, her loyal servants.

She didn’t know where she was looking or where she was heading as she entered a small washroom. But it was when she lifted her head and saw him, sitting down in the corner, all buttons of his tunic opened to display a toned chest with claw marks all over him, face devoid of any emotion, eyes staring but not truly seeing her.

They just stared like that at one another for long enough before the searing pain in y/n’s shoulder made her hiss and remove her bloody hand from the wound.

She was too busy with disinfecting her wound that y/n didn’t even feel Rhysand get up and come towards her, hint of worry slowly blossoming in his chest as he leaned down next to her sitting form.

“Naga?”

Slightly startled, y/n paused what she was doing and turned to look at his still haunted-looking face.

She shook her head. “Attor.”

He gave her a small nod before raising his hand towards the wet cloth she was gripping.

“May I? I do not believe that you will be able to reach and clean that wound properly.”

Y/n hesitated for a moment, clearly wondering if this was the cruel Rhysand everyone seemed to talk about.

He saw her hesitation and gave her the tiniest of smiles before going back to his indifferent expression once more.

“Don’t worry. I won’t bite you.”

Despite the pain, y/n smiled slightly as she handed him the rag. To say she was surprised with how gentle he was, would be an understatement. They said no words, despite the fact that y/n had questions of her own.

Why was he in such a state? Why did he have all these marks on him? Was he with Amarantha? It seems like he doesn’t get enough sleep either. There are dark bags under his eyes.

But she decided against speaking any of them out, still hesitant with her actions. Not to mention the eerie comfort their little moment provided for her. Y/n was sure that this would never happen again.

She was wrong; this happened again.

This time however, under the worst possible circumstances. In Amaranthas bed.

In the past weeks that they were all here, y/n knew that Amarantha would toy with attractive females and males. But she never thought she would one day be a victim to that cruel woman’s sinister desires.

Her greatest nightmare came true.

She did not even do anything out of the ordinary, always keeping to the corners, preferring to stay away from anyone’s gaze. But alas, it appears that y/n was not as invisible as she thought for it was during her moment locked away in the calm quietness of a small dusty bedroom, that she got dragged away by Amaranthas guards towards her bedchamber.

And you could only imagine the shock on her face when she saw Rhysand, half naked with only a towel wrapped around his waist, staring horrified at her while Amarantha, clad in her sheer robe, dismissed the guards and slowly came towards y/n.

Lifting her chin up with two fingers, the queen snickered as she said, “My my, you are even prettier up close, little mouse.”

Y/n could only gulp as she let the queen inspect her as if she was some sort of an animal. Y/n could feel Rhysands unwavering gaze on her as she stared at the ceiling, willing her tears to stay back.

Suddenly, she felt Amarantha's grip tighten as she was forced to look at the woman before her. The queen's gaze thinned as she inched closer to y/n.

"I suppose you are well aware why you are in here then, no need to waste time on explanations. Am I right, Rhys?"

That is when y/n's gaze slightly drifted towards the male standing next to the bed, his face a mask indifference, a relaxed smirk overtaking his features but his hollow eyes needed no explanation.

"Of course, it is a privilege for her to join us."

Amarantha smirked before dragging her towards the bed, marking the start of y/n's nightmares.

That night, she endured too much, did things she never wished to do, all to keep her head on her shoulders. And for some reason, y/n felt as if she was not the only one who suppressed her disgust and cries deep within herself. Rhysand may be a good actor but his stiffness did not fool her.

The fourth and most important time that they met was in a small, forgotten chamber tucked deep within the mountain--dusty, barely used. Y/n found herself there, seeking refuge from the chaos that constantly swirled under Amarantha’s rule. She didn’t expect anyone else to find the room, and yet, there he was again.

Rhysand stood near the entrance, as though he had only just stepped inside. They froze upon seeing one another. For a moment, neither moved, neither spoke. The silence felt almost too heavy to break.

She turned her back to him, focusing on her trembling hands. She didn’t want to meet his gaze, not after what they’d been forced to endure together under Amarantha’s cruelty. The air between them was thick with the unspoken horrors, yet there was an odd pull, a silent understanding that neither acknowledged.

“I thought I’d be alone,” she muttered, not quite sure why she felt the need to say anything.

“So did I,” came his quiet reply. His voice lacked the arrogant lilt she often heard when he spoke to others. There was something raw about him now, stripped of pretense.

A beat passed before she stood, avoiding his gaze as she brushed off the dust from her skirt. She intended to leave, to disappear before this fragile quiet shattered. But as she took a step, her body faltered, pain from her old injury flaring up again. She hissed through her teeth, clutching her shoulder.

Rhysand moved then, quicker than she expected, stepping closer without hesitation. “You’re hurt again.” It wasn’t a question, more an observation, but there was no pity in his voice.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, stepping back. Her pride wouldn’t let her show weakness in front of him.

He watched her for a long moment, eyes narrowing, not with judgment, but with something closer to understanding. He reached out slowly, carefully, as if giving her the chance to move away. When she didn’t, he gestured to the bench behind her. “Sit. I’ll help.”

She hesitated but gave in. She couldn’t bandage the wound herself—not again. Sitting down, she stiffened as he moved to her side, his presence too close, too intimate for comfort. His hands were steady as he inspected the gash. She tried to hide her discomfort as he worked, gently cleaning the wound with a damp cloth. The touch was too careful for someone rumored to be Amarantha’s most favored, the cold High Lord with a cruel reputation.

Neither of them spoke for a while. The silence was comfortable, though, more than it had ever been before. When Rhysand finally did speak, his voice was barely above a murmur. “We haven’t been properly introduced.” He didn’t ask for her name—simply left the sentence hanging, an invitation she could take or leave.

She glanced at him, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. “Y/n,” she said quietly, watching him closely.

“Y/n,” he repeated, as though testing the sound of it. He gave her the faintest hint of a smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was the closest she had seen to something genuine.

For the first time, she allowed herself to look at him, really look at him, beyond the mask he wore so well. She saw the exhaustion in his eyes, the weight he carried. The cruelty he endured, just like her.

“You don’t act like them,” she found herself whispering before she could stop herself. “Like the others.”

He paused, his hands still on her bandage. “Neither do you.”

It wasn’t a comfort, not exactly. But it was something, a crack in the armor they both wore.

Y/n remained still as Rhysand finished tending to her wound, his touch light and careful, the silence stretching between them. She couldn’t help but glance at him again—his face too calm, too composed for someone who had just been through hell. The weight of what had happened in Amarantha’s chamber hung heavy in the air between them, unspoken yet impossible to ignore.

As he tied off the bandage, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, her voice barely above a whisper, “Do you… endure that every day?”

Her words lingered, and she saw it—the brief flicker of something in his eyes. Pain, perhaps. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, replaced by the same detached mask he always wore. Rhysand straightened, his expression carefully neutral as he moved away, putting space between them.

“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice smooth, almost too smooth. “Amarantha has her ways of amusing herself.”

Y/n stared at him, not buying his attempt to brush it off. She had seen the claw marks, the bruises, the hollowness in his eyes. She had been there—seen the humiliation, the cruelty, the powerlessness they both shared. How could he call it ‘nothing’?

“It’s not nothing,” she said quietly, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to stay composed. “What she does… what we endure… it’s—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his voice a little sharper than before. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know.”

She blinked at him, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to reach him through the walls he had built around himself. There was so much she wanted to ask, so much she wanted to say, but the weight of it all seemed too much, too heavy to put into words.

Y/n’s eyes flickered over his face, searching for something beneath the mask of indifference he wore so easily. His sharp retort had silenced her, but only for a moment. The silence felt too heavy, too suffocating, after what they had both gone through.

She took a deep breath, wincing slightly at the pain from her wound. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for—maybe for prying, maybe for the awful reality they were trapped in, or maybe for the fact that she didn’t know how to help him, how to help either of them.

Rhysand’s gaze shifted, finally landing back on her. His expression softened ever so slightly, the hard edges dulling for just a moment. “Don’t be,” he said quietly, almost as if he regretted snapping at her earlier.

They sat in silence for a few more moments, both of them staring into the distance, lost in their own thoughts. Y/n thought of the nightmarish hours she’d spent under Amarantha’s cruel hands, of the helplessness that had consumed her. She glanced at him, wondering how he endured it—if he truly had to endure it every day.

“Does she—” she hesitated, her voice catching in her throat. “Does she make you go through that every day?”

Rhysand’s jaw clenched slightly, his eyes hardening once more. “What does it matter?” he said, his voice a touch colder than before. “We all suffer under her. It’s just… the way things are.”

Y/n frowned, the weight of his words pressing down on her chest. “It matters,” she insisted, her voice firmer this time. “You shouldn’t have to—none of us should.”

Rhysand didn’t respond for a moment. Instead, he looked away, his fingers tracing idle patterns along the stone wall behind him. His silence told her more than his words could. He was used to it, accustomed to the horrors that Amarantha inflicted.

She swallowed, her heart heavy. “I—I don’t know how you do it,” she admitted softly, her voice barely audible. “I don’t think I can survive this… not like this.”

Rhysand’s gaze returned to her, softer this time, almost contemplative. “You will,” he said quietly, his tone lacking its earlier sharpness. “You’ll survive because you have to.”

There was something about the way he said it—a quiet strength, a stubborn determination that made her believe him, even when everything around them felt hopeless.

Y/n didn’t respond. She simply nodded, grateful for the small comfort his words offered, even if they both knew there were no real solutions to their nightmare.

For a long moment, they stayed like that—two people trapped in hell, offering each other a sliver of solace in the aftermath of horrors too cruel to fully comprehend. Neither of them said anything more, but there was an unspoken understanding between them. It wasn’t love, it wasn’t affection. It was survival.

And, for now, that was enough.

After that moment, something significant shifted between them. Slowly, their random encounters turned into frequent secret meetups each planned with a sense of urgency and longing. They began to seek each other out, carving out spaces in the darkness where they could share their thoughts, fears, and dreams, knowing that, in this hellish place, they were the only ones who truly understood each other.

Y/n discovered that she felt safe with him in a way she hadn’t expected. In the quiet corners of the mountain, they would talk for hours, sharing fragments of their lives, their laughter echoing softly against the stone walls. Rhysand learned about her past life, about her love for creating things, about her resilience, how she had survived Amarantha’s cruelty by retreating into herself, clinging to the memories of a life before the darkness. In turn, she learned about his burdens—the weight of his responsibilities as the High Lord, the pain of leaving his people and his family behind, possibly to never see them again. They were both trapped, but in each other, they found a flicker of hope.

They often sat close, their shoulders brushing, sharing the warmth that lingered between them. There were moments when words felt insufficient, and they would simply sit in comfortable silence, allowing their thoughts to intertwine without the need for spoken language. Each small interaction deepened their bond, and soon they were exchanging not just stories, but pieces of themselves.

One evening, while hiding in their usual alcove, Y/n noticed the weariness in Rhysand’s eyes. She hesitated before speaking, her heart racing. “Do you ever wish you could escape?” she asked quietly, not expecting an answer.

Rhysand turned to her, his expression contemplative. “Every day,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I know it’s not that simple.”

Y/n nodded, understanding the truth behind his words. “It’s exhausting, isn’t it? Pretending to be fine when inside, you feel like you’re breaking.”

He looked at her, surprise flashing across his features. “You feel it too?”

“More than I care to admit,” she replied, her eyes meeting his. “Sometimes I wonder if it will ever end. If I’ll ever be free of this.”

Rhysand sighed, leaning back against the wall. “I think about that a lot. But then I remember the people who are counting on me. If I give up, what happens to them?”

She could see the heaviness of his thoughts weighing him down. “You’re strong, Rhysand,” she said softly. “Stronger than any of us realize.”

He chuckled, but it was devoid of true mirth. “Strength doesn’t mean I don’t feel pain.”

“Then we can feel it together,” she offered, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’d rather share the burden than carry it alone.”

He met her gaze, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “I think I’d like that.”

From that day on, they became each other’s refuge. They shared not only their burdens but also their dreams, hopes, and fears. Rhysand learned about the small things that made Y/n smile, the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke of the stars, the gentle way she held herself, as if trying to protect the light within her from being extinguished.

Y/n discovered Rhysand’s love for stories, how he could lose himself in the tales of distant lands and daring adventures. They created their own world within the confines of the mountain, where laughter could exist amid the pain, where dreams could be whispered even in the darkest of nights.

With each passing day, they grew closer, their friendship blossoming into something beautiful amidst the horror surrounding them. There was an unspoken promise that they would be there for each other, no matter what. And in that, they found the strength to keep going, to endure the trials that awaited them, together.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and months turned into years as they kept enduring the horrors under Amarantha’s reign, no one strong enough to defeat her. The passage of time blurred in the darkness, a relentless cycle of survival. Each day brought new cruelties, new horrors that left Y/n and Rhysand feeling more and more hollow inside. Yet, through it all, they clung to the solace they found in each other.

Their secret meetings had become a lifeline. Whenever they could steal a moment away from the prying eyes of Amarantha’s spies, they would retreat into the shadowed corners of the mountain, seeking each other’s presence. Their conversations had grown more comfortable over time, the once hesitant exchanges now flowing with ease. Y/n learned more about Rhysand’s burdens, about the sacrifices he made each day to keep his people alive, even at the cost of his own soul.

In return, Rhysand slowly unraveled the mystery of Y/n. She was no longer the quiet, invisible courtier he had first met in the halls. Her resilience and strength had revealed themselves with each passing day, though she remained ever-watchful, always cautious. The horrors she had endured were scars, both physical and emotional, yet she never let them break her. And Rhysand admired her for it, though he kept his thoughts carefully hidden behind his usual smirks and playful retorts.

They didn’t talk much about what happened in Amarantha’s bed that night. It was an unspoken thing, something that lingered between them, always there, but never addressed directly. It didn’t need to be. They both knew the depths of the hell they were living in, and acknowledging that shared nightmare in words would only make it worse.

Still, there were times when Y/n would look at Rhysand, her gaze searching, wondering how he bore the weight of Amarantha’s twisted games day after day. She saw the toll it took on him, even if he never spoke of it.There were days when he would return from Amarantha’s bedchamber with new scars, fresh wounds both seen and unseen, and Y/n could do nothing but offer her quiet companionship, hoping that in some small way, her presence was enough.

On one such occasion, after another brutal encounter with the queen, Y/n found Rhysand sitting alone in the dark, his usual mask of indifference slipping for just a moment. She hesitated before sitting beside him, the silence between them heavy with unspoken words.

“Why does she do this to you?” she asked quietly, her voice barely audible.

Rhysand didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on some distant point. “Does it matter?”

“It does to me,” she said, her heart aching for him in a way she hadn’t expected.

For a long time, he didn’t respond, and Y/n wondered if she had overstepped. But then, in the quietest of voices, he said, “Because I am her greatest weapon that needs to be kept under control.”

The weight of his admission hung in the air, and Y/n felt a pang of sorrow deep in her chest. She reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, though she knew her words could do nothing to ease his pain.

Rhysand shook his head, brushing off her concern with a forced smile. “Don’t be. It’s the price we pay to survive.”

But Y/n could see through the facade. She knew him well enough by now to recognize the cracks in his armor, the moments when the strain of it all became too much. In those moments, she stayed close, offering her quiet support without pushing him to speak. She had come to understand that Rhysand didn’t need words—he needed the comfort of knowing he wasn’t alone.

As time passed, their bond deepened, a quiet understanding settling between them. They no longer had to speak to know what the other was feeling. A glance, a touch, the smallest of gestures—these were enough to convey the unspoken trust that had grown between them. Together, they weathered the endless torment of Amarantha’s rule, finding strength in their shared moments, no matter how brief.

But as the years dragged on, a sense of hopelessness began to creep in. Amarantha’s power seemed insurmountable, her cruelty unmatched. The courts remained shattered, the High Lords too broken to mount any sort of rebellion. The mountain felt like a prison, and escape seemed impossible.

Then, whispers of a new arrival began to spread through the court. A mortal girl, brought under the mountain to fulfill some kind of bargain with Amarantha. It seemed like just another piece of cruel entertainment for the queen, another pawn in her twisted game. But something was different this time. Rhysand’s gaze would grow distant whenever her name was mentioned, as if he knew something no one else did. Y/n noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way his usual indifference was replaced with a flicker of… hope?

As Feyre’s presence in the court grew, so did the undercurrent of tension that seemed to ripple through Amarantha’s throne room. Something was happening, something none of them could quite understand. But Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that this mortal girl—this Feyre—was important. That maybe, just maybe, the end of their nightmare was closer than any of them realized.

What y/n also realized, was that Rhysand was her mate.

It happened suddenly, during one of Amarantha’s night feasts, a regular, twisted event that Y/n had come to despise. This particular one, however, was the night before Feyre’s first trial.

Y/n stood in the corner, as usual, staying away from the crowd. She preferred to inspect rather than socialize, to keep her distance from the cruel games and manipulations happening all around her. Rhysand was on the opposite side of the grand hall, his mask of indifference and cruelty firmly in place as he entertained conversation with a few other high-fae, Amarantha’s loyal followers. He played his role perfectly, as he always did.

But then, in a fleeting moment, their eyes met.

Y/n felt it immediately—the rush of warmth, the pull so strong it almost knocked the breath from her lungs. It wasn’t just the connection they had built over the years or the understanding they shared. No, this was deeper. A primal force that surged within her, a tether she had never felt before, snapping into place.

Rhysand was her mate.

The realization hit her like a blow, sharp and undeniable. Her breath caught in her throat, and her body froze as the bond thrummed between them. She had heard of the mating bond before, of course, but to feel it, to know that it was him…

Her heart both soared and sank. She couldn’t deny it, couldn’t push it away, but looking at him—his cold mask in place, his focus elsewhere—made her chest tighten with an ache she didn’t know how to suppress.

Rhysand didn’t seem to feel it, didn’t react in any way that might indicate he knew. His gaze lingered on her for a brief second before turning back to the high-fae beside him, the moment passing without acknowledgment.

Y/n stood frozen, the world around her muted as the bond settled within her, painfully unreciprocated.

As Feyre passed her first trial, everything began to shift.

At first, Y/n tried to dismiss it as coincidence—Rhysand had his own burdens, after all, his own games to play. But soon, the cracks in their fragile friendship became too large to ignore. Where before, he would seek her out, find quiet moments in the hidden corners of the mountain to sit with her, to speak about everything and nothing—those moments became fewer and farther between.

The subtle change came in waves. Rhysand started missing their meetups. First, it was only one night, then two, then an entire week would pass without a word. Y/n waited in their usual spots, always hoping he would walk through the door, but instead, she was met with silence. The longer the absence stretched, the deeper the ache in her chest grew.

But the worst came during Amarantha’s nightly feasts. Poor Feyre, clearly not jn a right state of mind, was paraded around the hall, her limbs loose and her eyes unfocused, as Rhysand dragged her onto the floor to dance. Y/n could barely stomach it.

Night after night, she watched as his focus shifted to Feyre—the human girl who was just trying to survive, just like them all. Yet it was in those dances, in the way his eyes lingered on Feyre’s face, even behind the mask of cruelty he wore, that Y/n felt her heart begin to shatter.

She tried to tell herself it was all part of the act, a necessary facade to keep Amarantha’s eyes off him, to protect the bigger plan. But each night, as she watched them dance, watched Feyre’s body against his, her hope withered.

The bond that had once filled her with warmth and joy now twisted inside her, a cruel reminder of what he couldn’t possibly know. Of what she could never tell him. Rhysand had no idea that she was his mate. How could he, when his attention had shifted so completely to Feyre?

And Y/n—heartbroken, invisible—could do nothing but endure it, watching as the only person who had ever understood her slipped further and further away.

The nights dragged on, the darkness under the mountain becoming suffocating as Feyre moved through her trials. Each one more harrowing than the last, each step pushing her closer to death. And with each passing trial, Rhysand's attention shifted further away from Y/n.

Y/n had never felt more alone. Every night, she stood in the shadows, watching as Rhysand danced with Feyre, his hand on her waist, his voice soft in her ear. It had started as part of the game, part of his endless manipulation of Amarantha’s court, but Y/n could see it—he was changing. His mask, once a weapon, now felt more like a shield protecting him from the truth. And the truth was devastating: Rhysand no longer came to her. He no longer sought her out in the quiet corners of the mountain.

The bond between them, once so unmistakable, now felt like a heavy chain around her neck, pulling her deeper into despair with every passing day.

When Feyre passed her final trial and was killed by Amarantha, Y/n’s world collapsed. She had watched it all unfold—the moment the human girl fell, her chest stilling, her life snuffed out in an instant. And Rhysand—he was the first one to cry out her name. His voice, filled with anguish and desperation, echoed through the hall, and Y/n’s heart shattered into a million pieces.

He rushed to Feyre's side, his face twisted in agony, and without hesitation, he was the first to give a sliver of his power to bring her back. His hands trembled as he leaned over her, tears brimming in his eyes. His voice cracked when he whispered her name again, as though she was the only one who mattered, the only one who had ever mattered.

Y/n stood there, frozen, her own pain drowned out by the overwhelming scene before her. Rhysand hadn't even glanced her way, hadn't acknowledged her presence. It was as if she no longer existed.

And when Amarantha finally fell, when Feyre was brought back to life as an immortal by the combined powers of the High Lords, Y/n felt as though the final thread of her connection to Rhysand had been severed.

Afterward, in the aftermath of Amarantha's death and Feyre's new immortality, Y/n tried—she truly tried to speak with him, to make him see her again, to understand what had been between them before all of this. She sought him out in the quiet halls, waited for him in the places they used to meet, hoping, praying that he would remember.

Finally, on the last night, before they all left this 50 years of hell behind, she found him standing alone on a balcony overlooking the endless expanse of darkness. She approached him, her heart in her throat.

“Rhys,” she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He turned, but there was no warmth in his gaze. His eyes, once full of shared understanding and adoration, were distant, hollow.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you,” she began, her words faltering as she took in the emptiness on his face.

Rhysand looked away, his jaw clenched. “I’ve been… distracted.”

“With Feyre,” she finished, her voice breaking despite her best efforts to remain composed.

There was a long, heavy silence before he spoke again, his voice so quiet she almost didn’t hear him. “I think… I think Feyre is my mate.”

Y/n felt the world tilt beneath her feet, the words hitting her like a dagger to the chest. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him the truth, to scream that she was his mate—but the words wouldn’t come.

Rhysand didn’t notice her silence, didn’t notice the way her hands trembled. He kept talking, his voice growing softer, more introspective. “I’m falling for her, Y/n. I didn’t expect it, but... I can’t stop it.”

Y/n’s heart shattered all over again, the bond between them twisting into something unbearable. She had lost him.

The dawn was cold, a pale light creeping over the horizon, casting the mountain in a dim, unforgiving glow. Y/n stood alone in the shadows, her heart heavy with the weight of the last fifty years, the torture they had endured, the nightmares that would never fully leave them. But now, with Amarantha dead, it was all over. The chains were gone. The horrors were fading into the past, and everyone was finally going home.

Everyone except her.

She had known it was coming—the end of it all. She had prepared herself for the fact that Rhysand might leave, that Feyre might take him from her entirely. But no amount of preparation had lessened the crushing weight in her chest as she watched from the shadows. She hadn’t slept. She hadn’t even wanted to. The last few days had blurred together in a haze of pain, confusion, and heartbreak.

And now, standing in the pale light of dawn, she saw them.

Rhysand and Feyre.

They were on the balcony above, just as the sun began to rise, casting a soft glow over the both of them. Feyre, still recovering, stood close to him, her face soft with something Y/n couldn’t bear to name. Rhysand was beside her, his posture relaxed, a faint smile playing on his lips as he looked out over the horizon. His arm brushed against Feyre’s, the contact so light, so natural, as if it had always been that way.

Y/n’s throat tightened, her heart splintering with every passing second. He hadn’t come to say goodbye. Not a word. Not a glance.

Just silence.

She had spent fifty years enduring alongside him, had suffered the same horrors, shared quiet moments of solace when everything else was falling apart. She had been there when no one else had, and yet, as the dawn broke over the mountains, Rhysand was leaving—without a single word to her. Without a goodbye.

Her fingers gripped the stone railing as she forced herself to breathe, to stay steady, even as she felt herself crumbling from the inside out.

He didn’t know. He didn’t know that she was his mate, that they were bound by something deeper, something that should have been unbreakable. And he never would. Because in his heart, in his mind, there was only Feyre now.

As she watched him smile at the mortal-turned-immortal girl, Y/n felt the devastating finality of it all settle in her bones. She wasn’t just losing him—she had lost him. Completely. And there was nothing she could do to bring him back.

The bond between them, the one she had hoped he would feel someday, was nothing but a silent scream in her chest now. Unheard, unnoticed, unacknowledged.

A single tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away, not wanting to let herself break. Not here. Not now. Not when it was already too late.

She took one last look at them—at the male who had once been her solace, her anchor in the storm, and at the woman who had unknowingly taken him from her.

With a shaky breath, Y/n turned away, unable to bear the sight any longer. Each step she took felt heavier, like the weight of the entire world was pressing down on her. The corridors were eerily quiet now that Amarantha’s reign had ended, and the mountain had become a place of ghostly memories.

Rhysand would leave. He would go back to Velaris, to his Court of Dreams, to the freedom they had all been denied for so long. And he would do it without a second thought for her. Feyre had captured his attention, his heart, and Y/n was nothing but a shadow now, left behind in the wake of a love she would never know.

She found herself walking to the same small, hidden room they had once met in—the one where they had shared their darkest fears and moments of fragile comfort. But those days were gone. Everything was different now.

Sitting on the bed, Y/n let the silence engulf her. The ache in her chest was unbearable, but she welcomed it. It was better than the numbness she feared would consume her next. She had thought, somehow, that once Amarantha was gone, things might get better. That they could both move forward, together, maybe find peace in each other’s presence. But that had been foolish.

The truth was undeniable now—she was alone.

The mating bond, the one she had felt so fiercely, was not enough. Rhysand had made his choice, whether he knew it or not. Feyre was his future, his heart, his everything.

And Y/n? She would be forgotten.

The bitter taste of rejection burned in her throat as she closed her eyes, trying to will away the memories, the stolen glances, the nights spent in shared pain. Everything she had held onto was slipping away, dissolving like smoke.

For the first time in years, she let herself cry. She cried for the love she never had, for the bond that would never be fulfilled, for the pieces of her heart that would never be whole again. She cried for the girl she had been before all this, before Amarantha, before Rhysand, before the endless cycle of hope and despair had shattered her into something unrecognizable.

By the time the sun had fully risen, her tears had dried, leaving only a hollow ache in their place.

Rhysand would leave, Feyre at his side, and Y/n would remain behind, her presence a forgotten whisper in the chaos of everything else.

She rose from the bed, her movements slow, mechanical. There was nothing left for her here. The mountain, the memories, the unspoken bond—it was all gone. She had to leave, too. But not with him. Never with him.

As she walked out of the room, out of the mountain, her heart broke all over again. This was her ending—quiet, unseen, devastating.

Rhysand had left without a goodbye, but perhaps that was the greatest goodbye of all. A final, unspoken severing of whatever connection they had once shared.

Y/n wandered through the wilderness, aimlessly walking with no direction or purpose. The vast world around her felt empty—silent. She had no family to return to, no place where she belonged. Every step she took was heavy, each one pulling her deeper into the pit of despair she could no longer escape.

For years, she’d clung to the hope that she mattered to someone—that perhaps in Rhysand, she had found solace, a connection that could keep her afloat through the darkness. But now, after everything, it was clear. She had never mattered—not to him, not to anyone.

The night before, she’d watched him with Feyre, saw the way his eyes had softened, how he had stayed by her side, even after the final battle had ended. He had fought for Feyre, bled for her, mourned for her as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world. And Y/n… she had been invisible, a forgotten shadow in the corner, her existence as meaningless as it had always been.

She had seen him and Feyre on the balcony that dawn, the soft glow of morning casting a light around them as Rhysand whispered something only Feyre could hear. Y/n had watched as Rhysand came closer to Feyre, giving her a devastatingly charming smile that shattered her heart beyond repair.

Y/n continued walking, the cold wind biting at her skin, but she felt none of it. The ache inside her, the hollow feeling in her chest, drowned out everything else. She had no reason to go on, no reason to fight anymore. She had fought for years, survived the unthinkable, only to come out of it more broken than before.

There was nothing left for her. No purpose. No place. No one.

Her steps slowed as she reached a cliffside, the jagged rocks below barely visible in the early morning light. The sea roared beneath her, its angry waves crashing against the stones. She stood at the edge, staring into the abyss, the overwhelming emptiness pulling her in.

The bond she had thought was hers belonged to someone else now. Rhysand had chosen Feyre, had found his mate in her. Y/n was nothing more than a fleeting moment—a forgotten soul in a sea of others.

And now, she was ready to let go.

With one last breath, Y/n closed her eyes, stepping forward into the void, letting the wind carry her into the nothingness where she had always belonged.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[littlemisshyperfixation]

Mingyu Fic Recommendations Part 2

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

part 1 part 3

One Shots

Singing Low (s a f) by @hannieehaee ✩♬ ₊˚. despite everyone within the industry knowing mingyu to date around a lot, what didn't meet the public's eye was his undying crush on you, his label mate, and his need to fill the you-shaped hole in his heart with any girl who'd give him the time of day.

Hits Different (...'cause it's you) (f a s) by @gyuswhore ✩♬ ₊˚. Kim Mingyu was the first friend your brother had brought home for dinner. Fast forward a couple years, his toothy smile and pierced ears would wedge their way into a permanent place in your heart. Nail to a coffin, never to escape.

or;

in which you get rejected by the only boy you've ever loved; a rejection you can't quite shake off.

good for you (s f) by @taeyongdoyoung ✩♬ ₊˚. your boyfriend is literally perfect and treats you like a princess but you want him to completely lose control

Over My Head (a s f) by @hannieehaee ✩♬ ₊˚. moving out of state for college was a terrifying experience for most people. fortunately for you, you had your older brother wonwoo to guide you while there, and even better, his best friend mingyu.

Endless Adoration (s f) by @wonusite ✩♬ ₊˚. ❝ Mingyu has been irrevocably in love with you since he was in high school. He decides to keep this a secret until he can move on since you’ve only ever seen him as your best friend’s brother. However, his plan goes awry when you ask him to take your virginity and teach you about sex—as a friend, of course. ❞

Bloom for Me (a s f) by @sanakiras ✩♬ ₊˚. even though you and mingyu share the same friends, there’s a clear distance between you. when you make a drunken mistake, he suddenly becomes increasingly aware of your lack of a relationship with him, and he takes on the challenge of changing it — not expecting to fall for the ice princess who turns out to be less cold than he thought.

Reckless (s) by @bitchlessdino ✩♬ ₊˚. Mingyu is a camboy and proud of it, as he should. Finally, he's getting the applause he deserves for his work and will be attending one of the biggest adult industry events to date. He just needs you to watch over while his house while he's gone. Easy enough, right? Unbeknownst to him, you happened to be a fan. A big one. One so big that you cant help but take advantage what Mingyu fans have only ever dreamed of.

I can do it for you (s) by @hoshifighting ✩♬ ₊˚. After years dealing with everything alone, you stumble upon an old wishbook from your past. And you jokingly writes down your ideal boyfriend, Mingyu. To your surprise, Mingyu magically appears in your couch.

kim mingyu's (unhelpful) guide to losing your virginity (s f) by @shuaflix ✩♬ ₊˚. ❝ you’re telling me that you, Miss Dick Repellent, had sex with Captain Chastity By Choice over here. ❞

Ways to Have a Man in the Palm of Your Hand (s) by @hoshifighting ✩♬ ₊˚. In the flow of uncertainty that defined your situationship with Mingyu, you decide to take action, making Mingyu start chasing after you like a loyal puppy.

[diejager]

@warenai gave me the juiciest idea.

Draw Cw: smut, porn, prostitution, P in V, creampie, jealousy, handjob, mating press, voyeurism, tell me if I missed any.

part 2

There was a silent understanding between the three of them after that whole fiasco, Ghost and Soap demanding answers from their captain on their own time. Ghost confronted Price in his office that night, body still hot and bothered from your live but wracked with cold sweat from finding out that Price was your third, highest donator. Price hadn’t expected him, neither did Price expect him to find out about his little secret, the thing he spent his money on, but when Soap stopped him outside of the base, he wasn’t surprised then. Ghost had told him about everything, how both he and Soap were members of your OnlyFans, devoted and loyal, only using the site to watch you.

Whether it bothered Gaz that they kept having silent conversations through side glances and open staring, he hadn’t voiced his confusion or curiosity, he stayed outside of this struggle to catch your attention. For all they knew, only the three of them knew you and enjoyed the content, spending their nights jerking off at your sweet voice and beautiful body dressed in all kinds of things. Gaz seemed none the wiser, acting as he usually did, smiling gently, taking care of his strict skin routine, trimming his moustache and caring for his favourite cap.

Yet, he seemed so energetic today, exhuming happiness and giddiness while the others looked dejected, shoulders slumped lower and sighing disappointedly. It was suspicious, for Gaz to act out of character, especially after your announcement of an anonymous winner of your draw, choosing at random one of your patrons to host a live with, letting them fuck you as they dreamed to. Unfortunately, you hadn’t told the public to protect the winner’s identity until the live, you would contact them directly for a day and time.

They seethed in silence, a storm of jealousy stewing in their guts while Gaz smiled and laughed to his phone, eyes glued to his screen and fingers tipping away as if he was in a rush to answer the person he was messaging. It went on like this for a while, a week before Gaz asked for a few days of leave, packing his rucksack with clothes and toiletries with the prettiest and newest clothes he had. Soap had teased him about leaving and dressing pretty for a date, that he’d been texting the girl who caught his heart for a wile now.

They forgot about Gaz after he left, happy for him and curious but not involving themselves into his business, until they got opened up your live after they got the notification about it starting in a few minutes. The watched you smile, wave at the camera, manicured nails gleaming under the soft, yellow light of a hotel room. You changed the location of stage, a comfortable looking hotel room with a queen bed and silken sheets. The highlight of this live - like every other - was you, dressed in a pretty, satin shirt fitting your dark navy teddy, the same shade under warm lights.

You sat on the bed, legs open and flashing the dark patch of your underwear, darkened with slick from earlier foreplay with your guest —the lucky bastard. You made the same introduction, a smile and wave, followed by welcoming them with your stage name, but this time, you reached out for someone off screen, fingers locking with a caramel one, thick fingers with calloused pads, the person who won the draw was lean but still muscular, his arms and thighs curved and abdomen hard. He wore a familiar mask —a skull painted balaclava.

“This is GazCan,” you pulled the man down to him hands and knees, pressing kisses against his gleaming chest, lips wandering up his throat and he’s masked cheek, “He won this year’s draw.”

They knew the balaclava, how could they not when they wore it before as a team, one singular squad fighting towards one goal — it was the Ghost team mask. This was no coincidence, it all fit in with their situation: Gaz had been overly enthusiastic and happy for a week, his sudden ask for days-worth leave and all the neatly folded clothes and skin care.

This winner was Gaz. They were watching Gaz finger you, pumping two of his fingers into your slick cunt, drooling over his palm for everyone to see and hear, the lewd and wet sound of his hand. They watched Gaz fuck you raw, folding you in half, knees to your ears and feet dangling over his shoulders as he snapped his hips, pounding you into the hotel bed and whispering filthy things into your ear. Your swollen folds puffing around his cock, hair trimmed and clean, veins bulging out as he drove in, were in full view of the camera, letting them watch how well Gaz was breeding you.

They boiled with jealousy, being forced to watch one of them feel you, taste you, fuck you. Gaz made you sign for them, mewls and keens rising high from how well he pleasured you, the pointed tip of his cock hitting your spongy cervix and veins rubbing against your g-spot. He was a mix of gentle sex and domination, keeping his hands on you and bending you to his liking, manhandling you to fit his wild fantasies and you liked it.

Despite seeing someone they knew fuck you, that didn’t stop them from coming, spreading their cum over their cock and jerking out the rest of it against their bed and desk. It drove them wild thinking that they could’ve been the one filling you up with their load rather than Gaz, his white jizz bubbling out of your twitching cunny and rolling down your perky rim.

“GazCan, is it, sergeant?” Price cock his brow, lip pursed and arms crossed, he looked so stern as he stared Gaz down.

“Captain,” Gaz smiled back, shamelessly comfortable with his date being shared in the briefing room, then he turned to Ghost, “Ghostie,” and to Soap, “SexiSoap, not exactly subtle.”

Part 4

Tag list: @warenai @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @cutiecusp @ladyof-themoon @yourdaydreamerfan

[lgbtpopcult]

Ranking the Top 10 GL Series of 2024

10. My marvelous Dream is You

A highly expected gl from Idol Factory that fell short of our expectations not for lack of chemistry from its love team (they in fact had some of the best chemistry in the industry) but because of the bad writing. The writing simply didn't allow the story to flourish. The couple spent most of the series apart, and we don't mean simply not in a relationship. They hardly spend any time together at all, and when they did, there were no romantic moments happening most of the time. What saved the series was its couple that sold the rare moments they had together really well. No surprise that they're dating in real life.

9. Apple My Love

Short and sweet, this story was a fun little romcom that fulfilled its purpose well. The couple needed to prove themselves as a love team, and they did. Happy to know they got a new series out of it.

8. Petrichor

For the people who had heard of Englot but had only seen them as a love team on Show Me Love, their popularity remained a mystery until this series. This police drama/romance has been good enough to prove they may not be the team with the best chemistry out there, but they're definitely not completely deprived of it like Show Me Love made us think. The series itself is interesting if you like your romance in small doses amidst the action.

7. Blank The Series

Here comes the controversy. One of the most successful and also controversial series of the year. We have to acknowledge that unlike what some fans would like us to believe the problem was not in the age difference per say but in the fact that one of them was 21 and initially very immature for her age. However, she was not underage, she was not unintelligent, and she had agency. She was the one who persistently pursued the relationship. The story was exciting and passionate. Also, mommy issues sell.

6. 23.5

A series that gave milklove, a much beloved love team, its chance to shine. It was a sweet high school romance that was enjoyable for most people and had some great highs. Its jealousy episode was one of the best around, and both of the admins here in lgbtpopcult are willing to die on that heel. It did, however, have the limitations of an innocent high school romance. A lot of time was dedicated to side characters and the couple could not be shown in a more mature relationship. Still, a good time!

5. Mate the Series

It is endlessly entertaining to watch Gen and Aoey interact. The perfect ice queen, rich girl that wanted to only be with the perfect man (somehow nobody was ever the perfect man) trying to resist her innocent, tempting friend. They are funny and sweet and passionate at the same time. The series does a good job of focusing on their relationship with little interest in anything else

4. The Loyal Pin

This production, supported by the Thai ministry of culture, definitely deserves its spot at number 4. At 16 episodes and with great production value, it is a journey through time that not only shows us the love story between two women but also the food, dance, and customs of the country of Thailand. The love story itself did a good job of remaining entertaining by inserting some jealousy and lots of obstacles in the course of the couple.

3. Affair the Series

A fierce debate broke out amongst us about whether this series would occupy the third or the second place in this list. You see half of it, the second half, was so incredibly good. The push and pull of a couple with exploding chemistry while they lived together. The obsession Wan had with Pleng. The amazing love scenes. But the first part of the series dragged it down. The chemistry was there from the beginning but they spend too much time in the past when the leads were young, and one of them was pushing the other to be with a guy just to avoid her feelings. That part wasn't bad, It had its moments, but it was at times frustrating and too long. A great series nonetheless.

2. Pluto

This series has it all. A love team with great chemistry, an interesting plot, good acting, and quality writing. It did not only show us an exciting romance but addressed issues of disability and even teased a throuple (through a side couple don't worry the mains are as crazy in love as gl couples should be). Insert some surprising twists and turns and it's a go!

1. The Secret of Us

The number 1 spot could go to no other series. It wasn't even a debate. Lingorm, the love team comprised of Ling and Orm, was tasked with proving a gl can go toe to toe with straight romance series on a major Thai network. They knocked it out the park! The Secret of Us was super successful. Throughout its run, it remained in the top 10 of Netflix in Thailand and the other Asian countries it was available in. It frequently occupied the number 1 spot, and its numbers on the network's own streaming app surpassed those of its straight counterparts. There was a reason for all of that. The story was a very popular romance trope (angry ex vs. regretful ex) done right, the chemistry of the love team was enticing and both main characters were infinitely charming. We all fell in love.

[short-honey-badger]

Miss Twilight 2

Crocodile plans, and you put your own plans into action.

Part 1 -> HERE Part 3 -> HERE Part 4 -> HERE Finale -> HERE

Before the day is over, Crocodile has called in the members of the guild who used to be part of Baroque Works. Daz is the first to get there, followed by Galdino and Zala. It's a small group, but the three of them had proven themselves loyal to Crocodile more than once in the past, and he was sure that they would know who you were. Maybe even where you were.

Before the door can shut after Zala, a booted foot catches the door, and Mihawk comes sauntering in, a bored look on his face as he settles in the same seat as earlier. Crocodile glowers at the other man but just gets a shrug for a response, so he huffs and speaks.

“I'm under the assumption that the three of you remember Miss Twilight.”

Zala grins from where she leans comfortably in her chair, “How could I not remember my dearest drinking buddy? Have you found her, Sir?”

Crocodile frowns. He hadn't known that Doublefinger had been so close with you, and it annoys him that he'd never noticed. He shoves the feeling away however, and shakes his head, lounging back in his chair and plucking his cigar from between his teeth to ash it before inhaling a lung full of smoke and blowing it out toward the ceiling, “No. But I want her found and brought back into the fold. She would be invaluable to the Guild.”

He ignores the knowing look that Mihawk shoots him from under that ridiculous hat.

“She went dark after Alabasta, but she was loyal like the rest of you, so I'm inclined to believe that someone has happened for her not to be here already,” Crocodile continues and he watches Daz nod along.

“She wouldn't have been caught unless she wanted to be seen. Or she made a mistake,” Daz puts in, and Zala scoffs and crosses her arms.

“Our Twilight? Caught? Don't make me laugh.”

But the moment Zala said the words out loud, an unsettling silence fell over the room. While they knew that you were excellent at staying unnoticed and unobtrusive, they also knew that none of them were perfect, their evidence being everything that happened with the Strawhats and the events afterward.

“Well then, what are we going to do if she's been caught? How do we find her?” Galdino whines from where he sits leaned forward, leg jiggling with poorly concealed nerves, “The navy won't have anything to do with us now that you're no longer a Warlord.”

Before Crocodile can speak up, the other ex-warlord in the room makes himself known.

“Yes, but that does not mean we do not have any connections. I'm sure that I could pull a few strings. Several high-ranking members owe me a favor or three,” Mihawk drawls and crosses one leg over the other, fingers tapping an unknown rhythm on top of Crocodile's desk.

“I'm sure I could wriggle some information out of our resident marines, too. I might not be as good as our Twilight but I'm not too shabby,” Zala offers and when Crocodile inclines his head, she stands from her chair and flicks her fingers in a lazy salute before she leaves the room.

Crocodile had forgotten about the captured navy vessel that the pirates under Buggy had brought in yesterday. The guild always needed resources, and navy ships could always be repainted and refitted.

“Daz, go with her,” Crocodile orders, and his first mate dips his head and then follows his partner out the door. He rounds on Mr. 3, purple eyes narrowed before he flicks his hook toward the tent city, “Go find the clown and make sure he doesn't get himself killed or something.”

Galdino gladly skedaddled from the office. He knew that he wouldn't be much help in finding you, but he appreciated being in the loop, even if being boxed in by two ex-warlords made his teeth rattle.

Crocodile shook his head at Mr. 3's quick departure, hand raising up to rub the bridge of his nose in frustration. The more he'd thought about it, the more it became apparent to him that you must have slipped up somewhere and got yourself caught. Anyone else, Crocodile would have dropped you, claiming that you being so careless had cost you a spot within the guild, but he couldn't do that. Not to you. Not when he still ached for you and you didn't even know it yet.

Fuck. He sounded like a love struck idiot, but maybe that is what Crocodile was for you. He sighs and looks over his desk at Mihawk.

“And why are you so adamant about this?” He demands quietly. The hawk wasn't usually interested in anything unless it pertained to him, and it unnerved Crocodile a little to have the other man so fascinated.

Mihawk shrugs one shoulder, “Boredom, mostly. But we are partners, Crocodile, so I feel obligated to assist you in your endeavor. And I wouldn't mind meeting the woman who's captured your attention.”

Crocodile rolls his eyes and puffs harshly at his cigar. He shouldn't have been surprised by Mihawk’s answer, “She is useful and a fine operative. I value people who can prove themselves worthwhile, Mihawk. It would be a shame to leave someone like her in the hands of the Navy. If they have her.”

Mihawk hums quietly and then pushes himself up from his chair, boots clicking against the hardwood as he makes his way to the door, “Of course you do, Crocodile. I'll keep you informed if I have something for you.”

Now alone in his office, Crocodile allows himself to slump back in his chair, a tired look drawn across his face as he sighs deeply. He would find you, and he would destroy any who got in his way of achieving that.

----

You wake to the sound of loud whispering. You don’t dare move a muscle, not wanting whoever it was to know that you were awake and listening. You keep your breathing deep and steady, not changing it from your sleeping pattern.

“Did you hear? The Cross Guild took another one of our ships hostage.”

There is a scoff, and then another, deeper voice.

“Sorry bastards can’t even afford to build themselves a ship. It won’t be long before one of our Admirals have enough and go track them down and haul them back to Impel Down.”

You jolt when the bars of your cell are suddenly stuck, eyes flying open to see the two marines staring down at you. You glare right back and sit up, making a show of stretching out your loose limbs, arms arching above your head before you plop your hands back down on your lap.

“Can I help you?”

The marine with the baton sneers down at you, and it’s then you notice the plate of straight gruel that the other man holds, “Breakfast, pirate scum, so don’t you dare try anything.”

You raise your hands in surrender, but your eyes never lose sight of the keys that the second marine produces. You watch him unlock the door and then shove them back in his right front pocket. A dangerous plan forms in your mind, but it’s one that could prove you a way out of here.

You wait for them to enter your cell, eyes tracking their every move, and when the one with the baton turns away, you leap forward, slamming your hand into the bottom of the plate of gruel and sending it flying into the marine’s face. He shouts when the hot food covers him, hands covering his face to try and wipe what he can away. His partner spins around, and you aim a kick for his middle, sending the marine flying back into the cell bars with a grunt. With them both preoccupied, you slip your hand into that front pocket and snag the keys, tossing them behind you and under the cot, hidden from sight.

“You bitch!” The marine with food all over his face snarls at you. He lunges forward and you let him, taking the hit to the stomach with grace as you fall to your knees, teeth grit in pain. The marine with the baton is suddenly there, weapon raised high before he brings it down across your face.

You hiss when your lips burst, bright blood spilling forth and sliding down your chin to stain the rags you’d been given to wear. It hurts, but with the two of them so pissed off, neither of them notice the lack of keys when they march off in a huff, cursing you to oblivion and back again. You can’t help but grin, however, you have the keys to the entire brig now. The pain had definitely been worth it.

That grin turns into a cackle of delight when you try the door. They hadn’t even locked it back with the other guard’s keys! This has been too easy, but you aren’t complaining. The marines had always lacked intelligence after all.

A new, bigger, more devious plan plants itself in your mind. If Crocodile was looking for ships, well, the least you could do was bring him one yourself.

[lilac-witch]

Hi cute! how are you? I hope you're well! You could write about Az returning with Feyre from training and they are talking and Az is so unfocused that he doesn't notice that there is another person in the room besides the ic, so y/n screams and runs out to hug Az and they're over. falling to the ground haha ​​they are best friends who have feelings for each other. Y/n had been away on a mission and didn't know Feyre but she knew her from EVERYTHING Az had been telling her jandjsmcjsldk thanks baby

First request! Super sweet ask and a great idea :)

Gadzooks - Azriel x Reader

masterlist | part 2

Summary: After weeks away on a mission, Y/n returns to her family in the Night Court, with the addition of a new member. And thanks to Azriel, she feels like they've known each other forever. Meaning: "an exclamation of surprise or annoyance" Word Count: 658 Warnings: None.

------------

"A letter has arrived for you, m'lady."

Y/n's head drifted from the paperwork before her, to the Peregryn male situated at the door. She motioned for him to come forward, receiving the envelope swiftly.

Once the male had left, Y/n tore into the white paper.

Dear Y/n

So much has happened since you left for Dawn. Feyre is officially living in Velaris, and I've taken over her training regiment. Let's just say her technique could use some work.

She's great though, perfectly suited for Rhys. If only the stubborn bastard would finally confess to her that they're mates.

I miss you. Cassian is as annoying as ever, and Rhys is so busy fretting over Feyre, so there isn't anyone to really talk to.

I hope everything is going well in Dawn, and I can't wait to see you again.

Your loyal friend, Azriel.

Y/n smiled as she finished reading through the letter. Over the many weeks that she had spent in Dawn Court, Azriel had kept her up to date on all things Feyre-related. From their first meeting, to the trauma she'd endured, Y/n knew it all.

Perhaps it was time she returned home. It was coming up on three months since she'd left, and Thesan seemed to no longer require her services. Yes, it was time to return to Velaris.

-------------

"You did well today," Azriel said as he and Feyre strode through the halls of the House of Wind.

"I feel like I'm getting stronger. The regimes no longer hurt so much," she laughed.

"Well then, maybe they could do with an upgrade," Azriel stated, lips twitching upwards into a smirk.

"Don't you dare, Shadowsinger."

Azriel was about to open his mouth in retort, when a solid object collided with his body, propelling him towards the floor.

Azriel would have been concerned regarding his shadows' lack of vigilence, or even his own instincts having not kicked it, had it not been for the warm vanilla scent that filled his nose.

"Y/n..." he mutter, arms wrapping around her warm body. "When did you get back?"

"A little while ago," she muttered into his neck, hot breath hitting his skin in the most delectable way.

"I missed you," he whispered.

"I missed you too, Az."

The heartfelt moment didn't last long, courtesy of his brother.

"If you two lovebirds are done, I believe introductions are in order."

Azriel glared daggers into Cassian's skull, doing his damnedest to keep the blush that crept up his neck, at bay.

He helped Y/n up, hands lingering on her waist for a second longer than what just 'friends' would do.

Rhysand cleared his throat, stepping towards the female at his side.

"Feyre, meet Y/n, the last member of our inner circle, and my most trusted emissary. Y/n meet Feyre..."

"I've heard all about you," Y/n stated, mouth spread wide in a smile. "All good things of course."

Feyre's face grew warm, and her eyes met Azriel's.

"Is that so?"

Y/n nodded, taking a cautious step forward, before wrapping an arm around Feyre, guiding her towards the kitchen.

"Indeed it is, and what better way to get to know me than over a cup of tea. Has Azriel mentioned I make a mean cup of tea?"

"He has not," Feyre stated, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

"Hm, how rude," Y/n huffed, smiling at Azriel as the pair disappeared from sight.

He felt his stomach flutter at the sight of that beautiful smile. It had been too long since he'd last seen it.

"You know, you complain about me not confessing to Feyre, but I've had to watch you tiptoe around Y/n for over a century," Rhys drawled, a teasing smirk on his obnoxiously handsome face.

"No one asked you," Azriel grumbled, heading in the direction the two females had gone, in hopes of escaping more of his brother's playful jabs.

------------

And I'm back!

it feels so good to be able to write again, and to be able to bring your requests to life. A reminder that my inbox is open to all your dreams and wishes ;)

Until next time lovelies :)

[katiascraft]

"So sue me for moving on and doing everything right. For being something you can't forget" | LN4

Parings: Lando Norris x Bisexual!Reader.

Summary: after that night where you saw lando with the opposite of you, you made sure he regretted leaving you behind. You both continued with your lives but you being friends with all of his friends made things tricky. Did you both really move on?

PART 2 OF "OPPOSITE"

Now playing: "Sue me" by Sabrina Carpenter.

Word count: +2,7k.

Warnings: reader has a girlfriend. Mentions os sex. Insinuating. Angst. Not a happy ending I think (?). Not a native English speaker so there could be errors. Not proofread.

Author's note: hope you like it and it's enough as a sequel! Don't forget to like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and have mate together!)

MASTERLIST

Since that tragic and heartbreaking night when Lando ate another girl in front of your nose who didn't look any closer to you - you decided it was real-time to move on.

The fact that he had the audacity of calling you beautiful after kissing her was too much for you to handle.

But you also decided to make his life a living hell if you could. You were vengeance. You would make him regret his decision as long as you needed to. The thing was you kept on seeing each other because you had so many friends in common that it was just impossible to not see each other ever again.

After that night you fell into a depressive hole. It was really hard and intense. You needed to grieve him. You didn't know how to function properly anymore. Your brain tortured you with contrasting images of Lando calling you beautiful, perfect, gorgeous, pretty, cute, baby. You constantly were rumbling around it. The whole day. And the whole night. Hou felt miserable. Your whole life together felt like a completely stupid lie. You felt stupid. Very stupid. How could you believe him? How could you not? You were so in love with him. For you, he was the one. He was your favorite song - the one that just comforts you and makes you feel happy and special. He made you feel special. But it turned out you weren't because he chose to date the opposite of you a few months after allowing the end of your relationship. It felt so unreal. It felt terrible. The image of them kissing made you nauseous. And you had to run to the bathroom and throw up. It was embarrassing. Shameful. It was heartbreaking to see. You were sure that if you didn't have your friends to back you up you wouldn't have done it. Sadness was your new personality and you lost all of your confidence. You didn't even know how to talk to people. You thought they wouldn't ever like you because you didn't look like her. Or even laugh like her. Or touch like her.

Did she touch him better than you did? Was she a better sight naked? Was she as fun? As loyal? As empathic?

You didn't want to know. There was no self-confidence left in your person. You were just an outsider in your own body. You didn't feel enough. You changed your style to baggy huge clothes so you could hide in them. Yes, they were more comfortable and expressed your personality better in your opinion. But on the therapist, the truth was you hid. You hid from the world because you felt so humiliated by the fact he chose her after you. She was better than you in every aspect.

You became obsessed with her for a while. Stalking her socials like crazy comparing. You couldn't stop. Every picture she uploaded with him was dissected destroying every single bit of your heart. She was gorgeous. Flawless skin. Trendy lips. Brown eyes. Blonde hair. Skinny and curvy. Everything you felt you were not. You always ended up sobbing in your bed. You couldn't believe you believed he loved you. That he found you attractive. All the times he said he needed you turned into nightmares. How could he need me if he now has her? There was nothing that could help you make you feel better.

Carlos was that one guy friend you are grateful for. He helped you so much. He knew Lando but he also loved you. And he was as much of a friend to him as he was to you. And he didn't fail you. He was one of the reasons you are better healthier and happier now. He listened to you every night. And made sure you knew you weren't the monster you thought you were. Also, your best friend didn't leave your side for a second. She was everything to you. Without her, there wouldn't be you.

It took you a few couple of months to start to progress. You started feeling better day by day. Your friends always made sure you were comfortable and if you needed to talk they were there for you - always ready to cheer you up.

Things got tricky when the birthday parties started. You knew it was impossible for Lando not to attend to his friend's birthdays so you needed to go through that test. The scariest test. Which was to see Lando again without crying or dying trying. It was the hardest part for you. You didn't want to ignore him but the few could of first times you did. You couldn't even look at him. He came along with his girlfriend. That girlfriend. And it was painful for you to watch. Seeing him kiss someone else. You missed his lips so much. He touched her the way you loved. You thought of stopping being friends with everyone so you didn't have to go through all of that. But eventually, you stopped carrying. You started talking to other guys and girls and you now have dates again and regaining confidence in yourself.

Once you felt you were back to your best version that's when Landon regretted everything he did. And realized he had made the worst choice of his life. And that there was no coming back from there.

One day he was just driving around when he remembered he had forgotten his rings to Osxar’s apartment. So he asked Oscar if he could stop by and pick them up. He agreed and mentioned you were there because you were very close to Oscar’s girlfriend. He got nervous. He doubted for a few seconds at the red light. He wasn't sure if it was appropriate. Since that horrible night, as he remembered it, he didn't know how to talk to you. He was lucky you only saw each other in crowded and public spaces so you didn't have to talk or look at each other. You could just ignore each other and that was it.

He broke up with Hanna, his ex, a few weeks ago. The relationship was going nowhere and she was very toxic at some point. He always knew he didn't love though. He didn't want to admit he chose her so he could forget about you faster. But of course, it didn't work. And he hated himself now for purring you into so much pain. He just didn't make the best decisions in life. But he decided to get his shit together and fix himself. No dating life till he figures it out. Or that he wanted to believe.

After a few minutes of driving he accepted to go to Oscar’s. He needed to face reality once in a while. You two couldn't keep ignoring each other and make everyone uncomfortable. Maybe there was still a possibility you could be friends at least. Or he hoped for that.

You were at Oscar’s happily chatting and eating fruit in his living room. You had your papaya-matching pajamas with his girlfriend. You loved them both so much. You just were gossiping about the drama happening at the University you attended. You were studying engineering. You were proud of yourself. Your dream was one day working on an F1 team. You loved strategy so maybe one day you could win a championship. The bell rang capturing your attention. Oscar answered and announced it was Lando. You felt weird instantly. Uncomfortable. But tried to brush it off as if it was nothing. Because it wasn't right?

You said hi to him like you normally said to anyone. He said hi to the three of you and asked for his rings.

When he saw you he felt he was about to faint. It's been a while since you two last saw each other. And you looked beautiful. Orange was your color. He loved it on you. He always fell for you in orange. He didn't know if it was part of your plan or just destiny torturing him. He tried to play it cool like he wasn't feeling what he was feeling.

Your eyes were locked on his frame. You haven't seen him in a while. You felt kinda excited to see him again to your surprise. He looked incredibly handsome from your point of view. The Sunlight was brightening his face making his eyes bluer and shiny. You just tried to brush off this thought in your head. You have a girlfriend now. And it's been more than a year since everything ended. You shouldn't feel this way. You wouldn't feel the need to take off his hoodie and give him head. So you could feel your effect on him. How he begs you for more. That you're such a good girl. His best girl. The prettiest one.

You just looked to the other side. Ashamed of such a thought. Of course, the air was tense and the interactions were a bit awkward between the four of you in that silent apartment. You readjusted in your site and swallowed hard. You looked at him again now with his rings on smiling and talking happily with Oscar about paddle matches and barbecues with the boys. You licked your lips. Your heart was racing fast and you just needed to get out of there. You stood announcing your departure. The boys looked at you a bit confused because you kind of interrupted his conversation.

“Yeah I think I should head out too,” Lando said while you picked your stuff up off the sofa. You glanced at him a bit and hugged Oscar's girlfriend with a smooch on her cheek. “See you beautiful,” you said. And she smiled. You then hugged Oscar and he led both you and Lando out of his apartment.

When he closed the door you called the elevator. Uncomfortable silence between you two. Tense. You didn't want to look at him. And he didn't wanna do it either. The elevator arrived and you both jumped in.

“Do you need a lift?” he asked breaking the silence between you too. His voice is a bit shaky. You finally looked at him.

“If that's okay I'll take it” you answered softly. He nodded giving you a little smile. You didn't even know why you accepted. This will get you in so much trouble. But you couldn't help it. It was Lando. And whether you wanted to believe it or not - he was the love of your life. It never mattered how son of a bitch he was to you. One way or another you just fell for him like the first time. Though you don't like thinking about it when you are in a relationship.

You got out of the building in silence neither of you wanted to say anything. The tension was cutting deep in both of you. Landon led you to his car. A very not-so-secrecy car. He opened the door for you and you just hopped in. He rounded his car and got up on the pilot seat. When his door closed the silence intensified. You didn't say or look at each other for a few minutes. He didn't even turn on the car. You sat there in silence.

“You still live where you always lived?” he finally asked turning on the car. You looked at him. Your heartache intensified.

“Yeah, I do,” you said in almost a whisper. He nodded and started driving towards your place. He turned on the radio and it was Ed Sheeran playing. You tried to concentrate on looking by the windows if possible the whole trip.

He looked at you by the corners of his eyes. He didn't find words to say. But in some twisted way, he found comfort in this situation. You looked so gorgeous he just couldn't stop looking at you every chance he had while driving.

“You could try to be not so obvious. You're eating me alive with your eyes” you told him out of nowhere making him skip a beat. You looked at him directly for the first time since you got out of the apartment.

“I'm sorry. You look too gorgeous I can't help myself. I know I shouldn't and it's disrespectful but yeah, I won't lie about it” he kind of defended himself. You rolled your eyes a little irritated surprisingly.

“I don't believe you anymore when you say that about me if it was true you wouldn't broken up with me” you spitted. A mix of hurt and anger in your voice.

“Oh c'mon y/n. I told you I was sorry. I was an idiot that night. And I needed to focus on my career and yeah in that I lied to you because I jumped into another relationship quickly. And… I don't care if you believe me or not but I dated her just because I wanted to forget you and I thought it would work but it didn't. I felt stupid. Because you were right. You're always right. I was a selfish asshole. I was in love with you for real but I fucked it up. And yeah I've felt like shit since then so I already paid for my sins” he said with a deep crackly voice. A mix of desperation and upset in his voice. He was sad and angry at the same time. At him.

You looked at him trying to figure out whether you were being fooled again or not. You sighed stressed. You wanted him to rot in hell for what he did. But as of right now, you don't know if that's what you wanted.

“I have a girlfriend you know,” you told him not looking at him. You didn't wanna cry. And you knew yourself too well to be sure that if you did you would break.

“I know,” he said shortly and coldly. You played with your fingers nervously. “At least we could try to be friends?” he now says with a cracky voice. Your heart wouldn't take any more of this. You felt so gutted.

“No, we can't be friends. I never wanted to be your friend in the first place” you answered him. You heard him have a deep sigh. He didn't know what to do anymore.

You stayed in silence for the rest of the ride. When you got home he stopped by your door. You didn't move for a few seconds.

“I really hate you, Lando. I hate you made me love you so deeply that I will never be able to get over you. And all of the memories we made will haunt me for the rest of my life and kill me” you confessed. He was looking at you but you didn't. “I hate that I really wanna kiss you right now and lose my shit just to be able to feel you again but I won't.” you finally looked at him. He got into a trance. His heartbroken yet he wanted to kiss you so badly. He stared at your face analysing every feature. Your lips looked so tasty in that lipstick. Those shorts showed your beautiful and sexy legs. He knew you weren't wearing a bra. He leaned to you, but you stopped him with your hand.

“You need to pay for your sins still baby boy” you whisper so close to his face that sent shivers down his spine. He was so turned on now. And you knew and you were enjoying it. You were too but you won't let him win. “You’ll have to sue me for looking so pretty while you can't have me. Sue me for wearing your favorite color and you can't do anything about it. Sue me for being something you won't be able to forget Lando. You can't have me anymore and I just wish this is the karma for you to rot in hell for what you did” you whispered so sexy. With a needy voice. And a malicious undertone. You had him speechless. You smiled victorious though you really wanted to fucked him right there and show him what is like to have the best sex you'll ever have in your life. But you just pushed him away from you softly and got out of his car without saying anything else. You close the door behind you and get into your house not looking back.

Landon can believe what you did. And how he felt. He was already hard. And you left. And you hated him. But then why did he feel you wanted him as much as he did a few moments before?

—————————————————————————————-

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have any ideas my inbox is open so feel free to send your requests!

[hail-brod]

The Days To Remember [1/2]

Jack Sparrow x FReader

MASTERLIST || Part 2

Summary: What if Will had survived Davy Jone’s attack? And in return, the captain of the Black Pearl got what he wanted—to sail the seas for eternity. But as much as he desired the thrill of that curse, he was torn between a longing sentiment and his greed for exploration. It was either that or honor his chances. Well, he is a mad pirate. Why not settle for both?

WC: 3.1k

Warning/s: Mentions of gore, battle, and consummation, light cursing, light angst, suggestive themes, kissing, madman Jack, sexual tension, smut (next part).

The battle with Cutler Beckett has met its end. The Black Pearl still stands as your fellow crewmates rejoiced with each other’s cry, voices rumbling out of their chests. Even in your previous state of panic over Jack’s actions to carve his heart out, and ramming it shut into the good ol’ dead man’s chest, your lungs cried out in victory. It was a battle that no man could have ever imagined to happen right before their eyes.

Well, at least maybe just in your case. But you’re damn well sure your mates had the same thought.

This is history.

And as much as you wanted to cling in this moment’s joyous reverie, a single look at the other ship floating right next to yours reminded you of what else your party had gained.

The Flying Dutchman carried itself with a new light, and at the helm stood its new captain, all with his sloppily grandeur demeanor and a wildly pleasant grin. He looked satisfied, and you can’t blame him. This is what he had his eyes on the moment he learned what the ship had to offer; immortality with his beloved sea.

You’re glad that he’s alive and will be around for a very long time and that he got what he desired. That he’s there standing in the presence of his new crewmates who will definitely treat him as a revered captain, heeding his command for it is he who sails it. But as he crossed the deck and towards the plank to bid his farewells on the trusty Black Pearl, his long time darling ship, as well as his loyal crew, you start to feel how much it pained you to see him go as your earlier mirth wisped away into shards of yearning.

You already knew what he planned to do. You were made aware so. And yet, why does it seem like you aren’t prepared yet for this outcome?

There was a falter in your emotions. You have half the mind to not let your bitter smile turn upside down. This is not how you wanted your dear captain to see you one last time.

“No point in hiding it, can ya?” a murmured-like voice speaks next to you. The one-eyed pirate, Ragetti, looks upfront at the sight you were looking at, and points a finger at Jack who’s making the most of his banter with Mr. Gibbs. “If you don’t say it now, ‘tis but a moment you’ll look back on with only regret to accompany it. Well, personally I think you’d regret it more if you’re looking to be with the captain. The Dutchman ain’t worth o’ it all, I tell ya.”

Next to him, his bald-headed companion added. “What the bloody hell do you know? We could take on the ocean and be immortal beings. I’m sure the captain wouldn’t mind us boardin’ in.”

“Go on then! See how it feels to be alive for centuries. It’s just more work ferrying souls—endlessly,” the man bites back with a wisdom you never thought he’d have.

The two bickered on, but you went back to Ragetti’s words. No point in hiding it, can ya? Exactly. At this very moment, you and him are now on a very different footing, on vastly separate worlds. Even if you meet each other at sea whilst he carries on his duty as captain of the Flying Dutchman, it’d be but a fleeting memory that will only tear you away from him before you could even touch the man. So it’s now or never.

It’s either you pursue him or not at all. You have to do it. With only regret to accompany it.

But a line has been drawn, so what in the hells could change once you did so? Wouldn’t that leave you with a broken heart that could easily shatter more into bits?

Jack got what he wanted. What else could he want from you? The helpless woman he saved once from the ocean’s wrath. The torn woman who became a part of his crew even when she had a family waiting for her at shore. The awed crewmate who was only grateful to be a part of his adventure. The teary eyed crewmate who tended to his fatal wound, thinking he would die at her hands.

The appalled crewmate who questioned his choices for choosing her over a hill of wealth—which was very unlike him.

And those were just that. A bond that you will never forget, much less something that you’ll regret. This is what he clearly chose, and you don’t plan to disrupt it. Just like you thought earlier; he’s satisfied.

Yet you see him almost drop his smile from across the deck, a passing gloom that felt so wrong to see on him. It worried you. Nevertheless, his loose smile still hung on as he ran his eyes around the crew, before landing it on you. There was only one thing you could give him, a lopsided smile that you know he’d always return. But this time, it didn’t reach the creases of your eyes and for a moment there, Jack’s expression was that of a relieved one. As if being able to navigate your presence amongst all of the other people onboard was a shining starlight in a vast dark sky. Though, it wasn’t long before he was back at his countenance of flaccidity, elbows at his sides as he sauntered over to you.

“And my darling partner in crime. How could I forget about you?” he teased.

“I’m honestly thinking you did,” you quipped. You then gestured to the docked ship beside the Black Pearl. “With that marvelous thing waiting for you? I’d be over the moon. Well…it could use a bit of color if you ask me.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he replied, eyes seemingly not leaving you. There was something about his gaze that felt intense, and you couldn’t help but meet it, engraving those gleaming dark brown irises into your memory.

As if he was examining you the same, a slight tilt of his head made you aware of the seconds passing by.

“The sea is yours to sail, captain. There’s a lot waiting for you out there,” you said. Your tongue felt bitter.

“Well, yes.” He nodded nonchalantly. “Dead souls precisely.”

“And an endless round of treasures I suppose,” you added as you smiled. And he returned it all the same as the corners of his mouth stretched up into a genuine grin, his golden tooth peeking through. The way he looked at you—it was heartfelt. Not the usual mischief he'd wear. Not a prickle of anything unserious. But it didn't last long as his grin slowly dropped to a melancholic one, his eyes never leaving your own.

Some swell of pride resided in you, seeing that this separation also bothered him. But you won’t assume the extent of such sentiments. You were a team, and that’s where it lies just as it ends.

“Yes…” he hesitantly says. “I believe so.”

For a second there, the world stopped. It was only him that you could see. And in the process, something cracked within you, but you held yourself up with a tilted and pathetic attempt at an amicable smile.

It was time.

“Fair winds, captain," you bade.

His eyes fell from yours, taking him a moment to respond. “Farewell, love.”

And the next thing you saw was his back turned as he strutted far out of your reach.

This was it. This is your choice, and his. No matter how much it hurts, you know that he cherished you as a crewmate just as much as you cherished him as your captain—the savior who made you see light again into this world.

Jack Sparrow was your beginning, and now it’s time to venture forth where that will take you. You owe it all to him.

But, as the said pirate headed towards the plank ‘proudly’, then catching a glimpse of both Elizabeth and Will, that demeanor of his quickly changed with a tilt of his head, annoyance settling through himself like the many times he had to change his course of action. He was one step up the plank when he stopped, seemingly contemplating on the choices he just made.

You had no clue what irked him so. And as you wondered, he turned to you.

What? 

The next thing you know he was already striding towards your way, and soon smashed his lips into yours.

At first you didn’t know how to react, but by then it was instinct to shut your eyes close as you felt him deepen the kiss with his hand cradling your head from behind. There was no room for rejection, so you melted into it as his other arm banished all distance between your bodies. He held you closer like nothing before. As if this particular split bothered him just as much as you did.

Out of all the women he wouldn’t be seeing for a long time, it’s you he chose to cherish. And you dreadfully feel lucky right now.

Somehow, the kiss felt like flying as you feel yourself slightly tilt back with his support, his lips a passionate maneuver. Not even his beard could hinder anything as it only served a far more thrilling sensation.

Who would’ve thought your dear captain felt the same?

For that single moment, the pirates around you didn’t matter. Although, you didn’t miss the comment given by one of them, pride dripping in their tone. “Aye, the captain must’ve heard me advice.”

Honestly, you’re fortuitously thankful if Jack actually did hear. And even if not, you’re not really complaining. Perhaps you should start listening to Ragetti’s words of wisdom more from now on—if you ever see each other again, that is.

But you didn't dwell on that further; you’re far too busy at the moment. 

When he slowly pulled back, the hand behind your head trickled down to your neck as you met his blazing dark brown ones, and you simply couldn't tear yourself away from them. Your poor heart rammed in your chest wildly.

Gods, your thoughts ran. Mum never forbade me to fall in love with a pirate, didn’t she?

And as if he could read your thoughts, that charming smirk of his surfaced.

Which is actually a sign that he's about to do something mad.

You frown. "Jack, what—"

Before you could complete the question, the pirate beat you to it as he diverted his attention right past you, his voice booming across the ship. "Hector!"

"Oh, mercy," the said man sounded displeased as he replied, seemingly knowing what Jack had in mind. "No."

From a second's moment of confusion, you eventually realized what Jack was trying to ask the feathered hat pirate. And if your memory serves you right, this almost feels like the one you’ve witnessed during the battle in the maelstrom. With the look Jack chanced at the two newly wedded couple earlier, you started to register where this was leading.

And you can’t believe it yourself. He is Captain Jack Sparrow for a reason, and he's as mad as ever.

The said man simply stretched out an accommodating smile at Barbossa, and with his arms still holding you close, you tried to look behind you only to see that the latter was staring down his nose at your captain.

“Come on, mate. Do it for an old friend, will ya?” pleaded Jack.

You immediately turned back to Jack. “Please confirm it to me that you’re asking him what I think you’re asking him.”

Jack averts his attention back on yours, his smile turning soft. “I think it’s perfectly obvious now, love.” His hands held you closer from behind just like before, thrill stirring in his dark-pooled irises. Though, it quickly changed as his brows folded. “Unless you don’t fancy the idea.”

You almost wanted to laugh at that, but you refrained. “With me? Now?”

“Aye.” He courtly nodded, as if he was telling you the obvious. “And I doubt your village would want you to join the Dutchman’s crew, so there’s no other day, is there?”

You chuckled at that. “Yes. Yes, I suppose they wouldn’t.”

There’s a part in you that’s begging to digress—that this is your choice. But you also know that they are waiting for you; the rapport of kinship to your homeland is what you also held dear. Besides, piracy was not your first option into livelihood. You already had your fill of adventure, even though it was only a matter of debt. To you, the soils of a land and the buzz of a lively village is where you belong.

Yet you stall here, thinking of bounding yourself to someone who’s now forbidden to step on land. Even so, you believe marriage has more to it than just living together.

“Marry me?” Your words came out quite impulsively than you let on.

Jack’s brows deepened a frown as he tried to process your question on whether you were asking him about his point—or that you’re actually asking him to marry you. But it wasn’t long before he eventually caught on, the corners of his lips upturning.

“Yes,” he answered, a compulsion he can’t turn away. “Marry you.”

You hear Barbossa mutter something as all the other heads turn to his annoyed form, who’s now stepping down from the quarter deck. Stance as intimidating as ever, the feathered hat captain sneered at Jack. But when he landed his attention on you, it at least subsided.

If you blink, you could’ve missed the somewhat compassionate expression he almost fully wore.

“Are we doing this or ya lot already regretting it?” he plainly asked, standing a few feet away from you and Jack, looking like he’s already regretting it himself.

“Oh, no,” Jack started. He pulls away from you, but his palm met yours, and bends down to place a kiss on your backhand without breaking an eye on yours. “No regrets here…nor will I ever.”

You should’ve been shrinking in embarrassment by then, knowing that you were surrounded by a crowd of all kinds of pirates, or melting on the wooden floor from the way Jack ravaged you with his gaze. But none of that prevailed in overwhelming you when Barbossa started his officiation of this middle-of-nowhere marriage.

Jack gave you all of his attention, and it was clear that whatever Barbossa was saying didn’t matter to him any more than you were. You hadn’t even realized how quiet everyone was—maybe just out of respect. But you thought wrong when you glimpsed both Ragetti and Pintel leaning at each other in a heartfelt manner as they eyed the occasion. It was sweet of them. Even Elizabeth herself regarded you with a wide smile as she rested her head on her newly wedded husband’s shoulder.

“Just get to it, mate,” Jack called out to Barbossa. “Skip it to the ‘I do’ part?”

You swear your officiant looked like he was one word away from shooting Jack. You couldn’t help but lightly shake your head, smiling. Jack didn’t even spare his first mate a look.

“Jack Sparrow,” Barbossa mentions the name venomously, and soon after, actually heeds Jack’s request.

When he was finally asked the question, he answered it in less than a heartbeat. “I do.”

There was no teasing at play, nor the walls he puts up as a captain. This time, he sounded as serious as he could have ever been. The smile he hung wasn’t the same ol’ frisky one he’d give you when he’s wrought with excitement. It was different, and you know where you'd seen it before.

A time where he decided the fate of something he couldn’t bear to lose.

And at that moment, he took your breath away.

You had not even heard what or how Barbossa asked you the question, nor the words you unleashed from your mouth. But you know it’s what your heart desires.

“I do.”

Your officiant didn’t even have to say anything else when Jack himself leaned in, catching your lips on his.

I could get used to this, you said in your head. For whatever time we’ve got at least. You couldn’t think of anything else, aside from realizing that Jack had such softer lips than you would have thought of.

“Somehow I’m surprised I haven’t gone and tried to kiss you before all this,” he says as soon as he breaks away, his forehead leaning closely to yours as his hat casts shadows over your faces.

“Did I actually leave you wanting, Captain?” you replied, reminiscing the ghost of his lips on yours.

“No captain, no,” he folded a brow. “Darling would be rather appropriate, wouldn’t it? And yes. Should I demonstrate my love for you again? Because I’m willing to take me single day at shore with just you.”

His gaze didn’t waver as he said that. Sure, you could identify the lingering sexual desire in the door of his soul, but there was also vulnerability. If this was anything like the ways of his seduction to other women, it was not. Because he isn’t trying to seduce you—you’re already his.

Though, with the weight of what the future holds, along with the fact that he’s bound with his new cursed ship with ten years worth of service, there is only one day of respite given to him from the harshness of the seas.

And to be with you.

Well, you mildly think he’d view the seas as harsh when for all his life he loved it. But only a day on land is just as harsh. A longing desire even.

And it certainly doesn’t change the fact that this is the last day you’ll ever hold each other again like this. Not for the next year, nor five. But for a decade. And just until that single day comes again, will you two be able to burn your hearts out.

Your hold on him tightened without you noticing. Getting eloped so suddenly without thinking it through first was certainly not on your list for today. It was all about surviving Davy Jone’s Locker and the battle with the pirate lords. But by the time Jack incited his desire of marriage, it was pretty much clear you both wanted no regrets. For even how too mad it was for you, it is a decision that you will look back on with gratitude for yourself.

Whatever may come, you know that you love and will love this madman.

So as you brushed past the flutter his words had given you, shamelessly suggesting the idea of consummation, your toes pushed you up as you tasted his lips once again. “Shall we make it worthwhile for the next ten years then?” you softly muttered to him after.

Recovering from the kiss, he fluttered his eyes open, grinning. “As worthwhile as can ever be, love.”

>> Part 2

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! As what I've typed above, this will have a pt. 2 which I've already written and been moving onwards to finishing it with a wee bit of editing (jk not wee actually). Here's to hoping I'll be able to settle that next week. I'm just excited because it's been fun writing this >.< Especially the next spicy part— Do don't expect too high on my smut prowess. It has been awhile since I wrote one but it isn't for naught. Because even I shocked myself with what I've just written (´。＿。｀) And lastly, if anyone wants to be tagged for the next one, feel free to comment about it or anything!

Ko-fi?

[yandere-wishes]

Long ramble anon here, I'm happy you liked my long ask I was just concerned that I put way too much as I have a tendency to hyperfixate snd overexplain, hence the tldr at the end. To be honest ever since seeing the fox beastman I've been on a bit of a kick with theorizing things for him. (Did the same thing with Rollo hehe) Anyway, if you want some more of my takes I'm happy to share.

Alright so you know how beastmen retain some of their animalistic traits? Well my brain immediately goes to what this means for their romantic endeavors and courting behaviors. Not much is known about the courting process for foxes, but we do know that scent marking and loud vocal barking is used to attract a mate. How does this carry over to a humanoid fox? Well, my theory is that he will likely give his darling something like his coat, or spray whatever cologne he uses on their things or use more of it when he knows he's going to see them. As for the loud vocal barking you better believe my mind immediately went to him just belting out a serenade for his darling, regardless of how he actually may sound I think he's self-assured and prideful enough to believe this would definitely entice his soon to be mate.

Another interesting thing about foxes is that they are monogamous to a fault, rarely ever taking another mate after the passing of their partner, instead remaining loyal until their own passing (at least this was what I've read in my admittedly surface level research). To me this means two things, 1) once Fellow sets his eyes on a darling that's absolutely it for him regardless of how he has to get them by his side it is an inevitability so if they would just be a good dear and surrender early on everything could be so much better, and 2) should anything unfortunate befall to his darling he wouldn't ever fall for anyone else and likely never fully recover emotionally.

Tldr; The fox man would woo his darling with his surely illustrious (at least to him) voice and his cologne or perhaps natural pheromones, and once he woos them Fellow would never so much as look at another in the same light.

Don't apologize Anon!! I love it when people send in long asks about their hyperfixations!! It feels so endearing and sweet and makes me want to give you a big hug!! I'm literally the same when it comes to hyperfixate and overexplain, when I'm obsessed with something (TV show, movie, game, etc) I need to feel it in my veins!! Plus being able to chat about it with people on Tumblr is always one of the best parts!!

I can't stop laughing at the thought of Fellow sending his darling with loud obnoxious barking 🤣🤣 Bonus points if the reader is a regular human and just stares at him confused, while Leona, Ruggie, and Jack just nod in approval in the background (or in anger and disbelief, depends on the scenario). The idea of him sharing his cologne and jacket with Reader is actually really sweet. I like to think that some ways down the line if Fellow ever had to go away for an extended period of time. Reader would just cuddle into a corner hugging his jacket and spraying some of his cologne on herself. He'd be so delighted coming home and smelling his scent so strongly on his beloved.

I love this!! Just Fellow knowing that reader is the one from the first look 😍😍😍😍 He's so smitten and lays on the charm extra thick. Wanting them all so badly and doing anything to get them. If Reader should die (Lord forbid) Fellow definitely wouldn't get another partner BUT he'd also go the extra mile and try to resurrect them. Magic exists in Twisted Wonderland so I'm sure someone out there has the ability to raise the dead. He'd do absolutely anything to hold you in his arms again.

Look Reader is getting a really sweet deal here. A tall handsome man (+ bonus he comes with A SUPER FLUFFY TAIL AND EARS) with a smooth voice, and a charming personality. Willing to give her anything, do anything for her, and make sure she had the best life imaginable. He's physically incapable of cheating and would fawn over the reader like a lovestruck puppy. He's literally just perfect!! Ignoring the manipulative tendencies, obsessive behavior, and ability to maim someone with his teeth😊😊

[simmer-emsie]

Not So Berry Challenge 3

Couldn’t get enough of the original Not So Berry Legacy Challenge? Already played through Not So Berry Challenge 2? Wishing you could play a challenge with content from 2021 onward? If you’ve been daydreaming about an updated Not So Berry Challenge (2023), look no further!

Welcome to the Not So Berry Legacy Challenge 3, a ten generation rags-to-riches legacy challenge with colour-themed heirs. Note: This challenge requires basically every pack except My First Pet Stuff and Journey to Batuu (…y’all know why).

Thank you to @lilsimsie​ and @alwaysimming​ for the inspiration (and the rules!).

Basic rules:

Each heir must represent the colour of the generation (like hair, makeup, clothing), but brightly-coloured skin isn’t necessary.

The colours of the spouses don’t matter as they aren’t part of the challenge. Unless otherwise stated you can do whatever you please with them.

Cheats can be used, but not excessively.

You may live wherever you please unless something is specified in the rules of a generation.

Every generation is supposed to complete both the career and aspiration of the heir unless explicitly stated otherwise.

Keep the lifespan on Normal.

Generation One: Soil

Well, you’re on your own now and you haven’t got much to your name except a plot of land and a couple of chickens. That’s alright though; animals tend to understand you better than Sims, anyway. Living off the land is difficult work but you’re determined to cultivate a respectable farm with livestock, fruit trees, and even some oversized produce!

Traits: Animal Enthusiast, Socially Awkward, Music Lover

Aspiration: Country Caretaker

Career: None

Rules:

Complete the Country Caretaker aspiration.

Start on an empty lot in Henford-on-Bagley with 500 Simoleons. Hard mode: Start as a teen.

Max the cross-stitch and gardening skills.

Play using the Living Off the Land lot challenge.

Befriend Patchy the Straw Man.

Complete 5 requests for your neighbours.

Generation Two: Sprout

Your best buddy growing up was a farm animal, and now you want to give back to the creatures that meant so much to you. As a veterinarian, you meet a lot of people and make a lot of friends. You spend your free time volunteering and training the animals you bring home with you.

Traits: Cat Lover, Dog Lover, Outgoing

Aspiration: Slumber Party Animal (Child), Friend of the Animals

Career: Veterinarian

Rules:

Complete the Friend of the Animals aspiration.

Max the veterinarian and pet training skills.

Befriend one of your parent’s farm animals as a Child.

Adopt at least one cat and one dog.

Volunteer on weekends.

Generation 3: Blossom

So, your parent was really into animals. And maybe that was a little bit too internalized in you… because now you can’t stop thinking about embracing your primal side and becoming a Werewolf. You still need to pay the bills though, so you work as a Green Technician to protect your territory’s ecosystem. On the weekends, you and your pack go bowling.

Traits: Lactose Intolerant, Insider, Loyal

Aspiration: Werewolf Initiate, Emissary of the Collective OR Wildfang Renegade

Career: Civil Designer, Green Technician branch

Rules:

Complete 2 Werewolf aspirations.

Max the bowling and logic skills.

Become a Werewolf.

Find and marry your Fated Mate.

Go bowling every weekend.

Generation Four: Mist

Uhh… you okay? You were kind of raised by… literal Werewolves. The experience was kind of traumatic, and now you’re trying to live a normal life. You eat grilled cheese as a coping mechanism and as a teen, you start a side hustle so you can move out on your own ASAP. You go to university and get a completely normal job in the city. You struggle to trust someone enough to fall in love, especially after the whole… “Fated Mates” thing your parents had going on. You just really, really want something normal.

Traits: Overachiever, Paranoid, Perfectionist

Aspiration: Goal Oriented (Teen), Grilled Cheese

Career: Any side hustle or part-time job (Teen), Education

Rules:

Complete the Grilled Cheese aspiration.

Max the cooking, baking, and flower arranging skills.

If your Sim is given the option to graduate early, take it.

Get a degree.

After university, move to the city (San Myshuno, Del Sol Valley, or San Sequoia) and get a bonsai tree.

Marry someone with a secret (for example, is an Alien or a Criminal).

Generation Five: Lava

Things were kind of weird growing up, and now you’re healing from your childhood. If therapy was a thing, you’d so be there. But since it’s not, you dedicate yourself to journaling, wellness, and less socially-acceptable coping mechanisms. 

Traits: Erratic, High Maintenance, Party Animal

Aspiration: Drama Llama (Teen), Villainous Valentine (Adult), Inner Peace (Elder) 

Career: Culinary, Mixologist branch

Rules:

Complete the Villainous Valentine aspiration.

Max the mixology, wellness, and writing skills.

Have a negative relationship with your parents.

Have an affair with a celebrity.

Have a child with a married Sim.

Write a tell-all memoir book as an elder.

Generation Six: Ash

You had a fractured family life growing up, but one thing your parents told you about was your ancestor who started a magnificent farm. You want to start anew, just like they did. But, well, you’re kind of a city kid… so you only grow avocados. Also, you’re totally in-tune with the paranormal and commune with ghosts for work.

Traits: Bookworm, Childish, Unflirty

Aspiration: Playtime Captain (Child), Soulmate

Career: Freelancer, Paranormal Investigator branch

Rules:

Complete the Soulmate aspiration.

Max the medium and gardening skills.

Live in an apartment and grow avocados on the balcony.

Marry a Sim that you’ve brought back from the dead.

Generation Seven: River

If there were an award for weirdest upbringing, you’d probably get it. Seriously… one of your parents came back from the dead to have you! The fun doesn’t stop there though. You’re determined to keep having cool experiences and write about them for your whole life.

Traits: Bro, Good, Jealous

Aspiration: Mind and Body (Child), StrangerVille Mystery

Career: Drama Club (Child/Teen), Writer

Rules:

Complete the StrangerVille aspiration.

Max the writing and fitness skills.

Have a child with someone from StrangerVille.

Take your child on vacation at least once every life stage (infant, toddler, child, teen).

Chapter Eight: Ocean

As the heir to a wealthy writer, you’re used to having things handed to you, like jobs and vacations. Now that you’re old enough to make a name for yourself, you want to build your Trendi empire as a Simfluencer. You pick Sulani as the perfect place to make your mark; beautiful weather and beachfront property mean all your followers will be so jealous of you. You love the water more than anyone you know, until one day you see someone a little too far out to sea to be natural… 

Traits: Child of the Islands, Child of the Ocean, Mean

Aspiration: Admired Icon (Teen), Party Animal

Career: Trendi (Teen), Simfluencer

Rules:

Complete the Party Animal aspiration.

Max the entrepreneur and media production skills.

Live in Sulani and become a mermaid.

Sell an outfit on Trendi for 9,999 Simoleons.

Get 1,000,000 followers.

Generation 9: Sand

Your parent always encouraged you to do great things with your life… as long as what you want is to be an Interior Decorator. Your real passion is music and you practice whenever you can. You’ve always wanted to rebel against your parent, but never had it in you to actually do it.

Traits: Creative, Gloomy, Neat

Aspiration: Musical Genius

Career: Interior Decorator (Adult), Entertainment, Musician branch (Elder)

Rules:

Complete the Musical Genius aspiration.

Max the violin and guitar skills.

Have a Strict family dynamic with your parent (you may cheat for this).

Get a Fine Arts degree at university.

If your Sim experiences a midlife crisis, you must complete it.

Generation 10: Flame

As a little kid, your biggest goal in life was to one day become the best parent ever. Your own parent was sad a lot and you acted out because of it, but you want your own kid to have a happier home. You want to provide everything for your children with your own two hands. You like building on the woodworking bench and brewing herbalism concoctions.

Traits: Family-Oriented, Loves Outdoors, Maker

Aspiration: Live Fast (Teen), Outdoor Enthusiast

Career: Culinary, Chef branch

Rules:

Complete the Outdoor Enthusiast aspiration.

Max the cooking, handiness, and herbalism skills.

Have at least three children, one of whom is adopted.

Go on family vacations to Granite Falls as much as possible.

Good luck and have fun!

[on-a-lucky-tide]

cw: omegaverse, state coercion.

I've been slowly chipping away at an omegaverse thing alongside the Mafia AU (which I'm hoping to publish chapter 2 of by the end of the week, I just got in my head about it).

Price stared at the yellow envelope on his desk and felt nothing but numb resignation. He had known it was coming. Mac had called him into his office a week ago to inform him that the military exemption was being withdrawn, that restrictions on suppressants were coming. There was nothing he could do. Parliament had voted, the people had spoken.

Sorry, John. Really. Mac's face had been pinched.

He tapped his biro on the side of his calf, shifting his ankle across his knee as he turned a little closer. Needed to open it. Letting it marinate a little longer inside the envelope wasn't going to change the ink on the page. No matter how much he willed it to.

The biro clattered across the desk as he cast it aside and snatched the letter up. He had mentally prepared for it, but that didn't stop each word feeling like a punch in the throat.

“Dear Cpt. John Michael Price VC CGC DSO,

We are writing to inform you about the formal end to the military exemption under Article 4 Paragraph 3 of the Public Order and Welfare Act as of the 22nd April 2023. Following the repeal of the…”

His gaze blurred. His list of medals at the end felt like an added slap in the face. At least they had used his rank. He took a deep breath and forced his eyes to refocus a little further down, skipping the waffle about the democratic vote that had stripped him of his rights and dignity.

“...you will be required to mate formally within six months of the end of your exemption. If, for whatever reason, you remain unbonded by 22nd October 2023, your time in service will be concluded with full pension, and you will be retired to a pack house for further care.”

There are parts of it that are so hard to write. Like Nik wrestling with his happiness, almost sickened by it, because he finally has John but he can never be sure it's real because John's hand was forced, and John trying to prevent his resentment from spilling over onto a man that has only ever been loyal, patient and respectful. And not wanting to write Price 'giving in', but trying to find some kind of balance, some happiness, in a situation they're forced into.

This may never see the light of day. It certainly won't arrive before the Mafia AU is done. But... Yeah, I'm suffering.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Whispers of the Forgotten | pt. 2

pairing: azriel x reader | type: angst | words: 2,6k words | masterlist

"And what now?" The general's voice is still tinged with the shock from the earlier happenings, his breathing ragged.

"The box won't open without…I don't know. Without what?" Cassian looks at Nesta and only wants to wrap her into his arms, keeping her safe. Nesta holds Ataraxia tightly in her hands, face displaying nothing but strength and determination, but when her eyes slide to the box, completely untouched and closed, on the table in front of her, in the middle of Rhysand's office, disappointment passes over her features. It makes the former determination disappear and her shoulders slouch. Nesta looks exhausted, even a little sad and Cassian just wants to hold her, tell her she did her best, that she did everything she could and it is enough. 

"We need magic. A greater force," Nesta breathes, gaze not wavering, trained on the little onyx box. Vassa, the clever fire bird, managed to steal the box Koschei always kept with him. They need to destroy it in order to destroy him, but right now it seems impossible — they can't do it. At least not with the tools at hand. 

Even Amren is clueless. What should they do? How should they go forward? 

Silence, palpable and heavy, falls upon the room and for a moment everyone seems clueless until—

Amren taps her fingers against her chin and then opens her mouth. "There is one person that I know that could be able to open this box." 

The temperature in the office cools at least five degrees, a chill coursing through it. Amren moves towards the desk, fingers tracing a line over the box, eyes squinted. "She has power beyond our knowledge." Amren inhales a deep breath. "And you, boys, put her in the Prison many years ago. Many centuries ago." She looks over her shoulder, dark hair shifting with the movement. "Azriel, Cassian."

A cold shiver cascades down Azriel's spine. A Prison inmate would be their solution? It can't be—

"We can't free a prison inmate," Cassian says, voice strong. 

"Of course not, we can also let Koschei destroy us." Amren's statement is gleeful, almost mocking of the general. Cassian only narrows his eyes at her, fighting the urge to flip her off. 

"I mean, how can we be sure she is loyal to us and not to…Koschei. Or that she doesn't try to murder us the first chance she gets?" Cassian looks a bit scared and Amren frowns at him. 

"Why should she be loyal to Koschei?" she asks in a bored voice. 

"If she is a creature that has to be kept in the Prison the connection for her to be loyal to the Death Lord or any kind of evil spirit is not too far fetched," Cassian says and lifts his arms in despair. 

Nesta takes a step back, moving closer to her mate, her heart still racing with the former actions. She was the one who tried to open the box, but failed. The power that held it close is just too strong. Alone the trial left its markings on her skin, on her body. She is shivering, goosebumps spreading all over her body. The ancient force having fought against her, fiercely. 

"Remember where I come from, boy," Amren snaps and throws Cassian a deadly look. "I've been in there once as well. And I know her. I know about her. And I know that she will help us and isn't loyal to Koschei."

Rhysand, formerly having been calm, silently observing the situation, now steps in, Nyx cradled to his chest. "Can we truly trust her, Amren?" His voice is deep and strong, bouncing of the walls of his office. 

They can't risk anything and freeing someone from the Prison can be deadly and cause more problems than they already have.

"We can." Her statement is steadfast, like nothing can shake her belief that the female in question can truly be their life saver. "She might be a little out of practice after being locked away for centuries, but I know she has the kind of power and magic to open this box. After all she was part of…them."

"Of who?" It is Gwyn who asks this question, her voice hushed, almost like whispering about a secret. 

Amren turns her head to the priestess, smirking. "Of the Wild Hunt. Not their leader, but the second-in-command." 

Silent gasps rumble through the room, and surprise flickers over Gwyn's young face. She has heard about the Wild Hunt, read about it, but she had no idea that someone who was apart of it was locked away in the prison. 

Shock takes root in Azriel's chest, rattling his very bones. He has to grab the backrest of the chair in front of him to keep from tumbling. There is only one female this description fits. A female he locked into the prison himself. A female who promised vendetta. A female he loved once. You. 

His throat works on a swallow, shadows nervously swirling around him. Azriel isn't the type to be scared of most things, but you? You are a different kind. A different breed. Something otherworldly. Something - a being - that indeed scares him. 

"We can use the Harp to enter the cell," Nesta suggests and earns herself a round of agreement and planning immediately starts. But Azriel is unfocused. He thoughts return to you. Always. His body feels weak and he is shaking on the inside. For centuries he has been thinking about you, and now…

"Azriel, you will get her." The shadowsinger wants to say no, but he can't. He has to do it. If someone frees you, it has to be him. So, he only bows his head in silent agreement and already moves towards the door. 

"I'll return with her," he says as a matter of good bye, his mind too distressed, his body still in shock, to answer anything else or to do anything else. 

───── ⋆��� ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────

The prison still looks the same. The same dark stone walls, the same mossy smell. The only thing that has changed is Azriel himself. He no longer is this young boy that would do anything the High Lord tells him, without the blink of an eye. He has grown now, and he knows that what he did to you back then, was wrong. The situation — you — should have been handled differently. But he can't take back his actions. But maybe, maybe there is a chance for him to explain it all to you. 

His steps hollow through the dimly lit halls, prison cells on either side of it.

He still remembers your cell. It is a memory imprinted on his mind, but one that has been locked away for hundreds of years. 

A cold shiver curls around his spine, just like his shadows curl around his body.

He had clamped down on the pain for so long, for centuries, but now that he is here again it all comes back and nearly breaks him. Now, he can't believe what he did. He can't believe he hurt you like this.

Why did he not try to fight? Why did he not choose another option.

Because there wasn't one. It was the only option to keep you safe. To protect you. And your safety was always his priority. Even if it meant locking you in here and ripping his own heart into shreds.

───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────

"Hush little baby, don't say a word, Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird won't sing, Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring turns to brass—"

Your voice catches in your throat, when your nostrils flare, taking in the new, uncommon scent. Someone is here. Someone that hasn’t been here in a long time. The scent is not fully unfamiliar, but you also don’t remember its owner. Until—

A nest of shadows is the first thing you see when the door to your cell opens. The black mist clears and reveals a male of ethereal beauty. A male you've come to loathe even more with every passing century.

"Shadowsinger." A vicious grin spreads over your face, showing your elongated canines. "We meet again."

Alongside the general of the Illyrian armies, the spymaster caught you and put you in this Cauldron-damned prison. It had been centuries ago. But you haven't forgotten. You never will. But why he returned is a mystery….

Before he can so much as blink, you lunge at him, chains clattering on the cold stone floor, covered in dirt and mould. You want to claw at his throat, at best rip it out. The fire of fury inside of you has burned for centuries, wasn't diminished once. And his presence alone added enough fuel to make your weak and broken body move. The sound of the chains reverberates through the dank, musty air, your long, elongated canines gleaming with a feral snarl. 

"I'm going to kill you." But you can't. Technically, you can't kill him while in here. Magic binds your power and you are restrained, also by magical chains, that keep you from moving too far or too close to him. But that doesn't stop you from trying. 

Hatred, raw and powerful, fuels you and makes you blind with the only thing on your mind being to end his life. He condemned you to this wretched, soul-crushing place. He never cared that you had no choice other than being part of the Wild Hunt. You didn't choose your fate. So, he had no right to do so either. 

"You think these chains can hold me, Azriel?" Your voice is a venomous hiss, each syllable dripping with disdain as you strain against the biting restraints, the cold metal spikes digging into your flesh. "I'll tear you limb from limb! I'll rip your throat out and watch you bleed out until the very last drop."

Azriel, his demeanour not giving away the whirlwind of emotions within him, stands in a stance, Truth-Teller clasped in his scarred hands. He seems composed and not afraid and that angers you even more. And so does his voice, cold, low, velvety. 

"I'm not here to fight you," he says, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside the Prison cell and within both of you. "I am sorry for—"

"Stuff your apologies up your pretty ass!" With a guttural roar, you hurl yourself at him again, driven by an insatiable hunger to destroy him. Memories of the centuries that have passed, of degradation, and the pain you suffered reach the front of your mind and drive your anger forward. 

But the chains hold you back and Azriel swiftly side-steps you. It isn't even necessary. If he doesn't get any closer, there is no chance for you to reach him. 

You bare your teeth again, the thin, white nightgown clutching to your body like a second skin. You shiver, but not from the cold, rather from the rage blazing through your veins. "What do you want from me? Why did you come back? Why did you come back now?" you demand, but he leaves you without an answer. 

"I don't want to hurt you," Azriel repeats instead, a note of regret tinting his voice.

"Hurt me?" You sneer. "You've already destroyed me! You broke me and you left me broken. Bloody and cold. I lay in my own puke for days, bleeding, wounded."

A pang of hurt hits Azriel right in the heart. He only followed what Rhysand's father had told him to do. He had no other choice. Everything else would have meant your death. He couldn't have risked it. 

"I come here because I—because we need your help."

His eyes drop to your hands, scars also marring them. Your pointed nails are still sharp, but brittle, almost like you have been clawing at the stone walls. 

Memories flash in his mind of how you sunk them into his skin. How you scratched them over his skin. And how…simultaneously your lips met his, mouths dancing, tongues toying—

"You betrayed me," you seethe, "and now you want my help?"

Azriel's expression looks pained, torn. His eyes drop anew, to the chains binding your feet to the wall. Your hands, though, are free and you can't wait to sink your sharp nails into his neck. Your fangs as well. 

"Only over my dead body!" you scream, fury clouding your vision like black haze. 

Only for you to realise it is not fury that clouds your vision. He is using his shadows to do so. You can't see anymore and it makes you panic. And this panic makes you lose control. You forgot about your former target, the darkness so looming and scary it makes you scream. 

Chains clatter to the ground, but you are too caught in a stupor to move. To run. To attack. 

With a swift and calculated manoeuvre, Azriel is behind you and secures handcuffs around your wrists, binding you. Binding you…binding you…You are restrained again. 

"I'm sorry, but I have to do this." His voice is softer, but it hurts you. You don't want to hear it. Don't want to see this side of him. Because it isn't his true self. His true self hurt you. Broke you. Destroyed you. 

You hate him so much, it almost hurts. You can't allow the pain. You will never allow it. You only allow anger. 

Blind rage surges within you, a thunderstorm of emotions brewing. And then he does the most unforgivable thing. He knows about your past. Knows about your fear of the dark. And yet, darkness swallows you wholly — a blindfold tightens over your eyes. Helplessness makes the content of your stomach sour and burning tears dwell in your eyes. Rage simmers beneath your skin, but it is the pain of betrayal that nearly gains the upper hand. The sort of pain you have been pushing away for centuries. 

You scream anew. His name. Curses. Noises. 

"Forgive me," Azriel whispers from behind you. "Forgive me, please."

But you wouldn't even imagine doing so. Never. Only over your dead body. 

"You'll regret this." Your voice is not strong. It is hoarse and broken. "I will never forgive you."

Azriel moves swiftly. In his hand, he holds Nesta's harp, the key that allowed him to enter your cell.

"Forgive me," he says again and his hand lands on your hip. 

You resist, squirming against his grasp, frustration and anger lacing your voice. "Let me go!" you demand, a mix of desperation and in your voice. But he is stronger. 

Ignoring your protests, Azriel gathers you in his arms, scooping you up with ease that is beyond you, cradling your frame against his chest. He adjusts his hold, ensuring you're secure and you feel that something cold, and metal - you can't quite tell- is placed on your belly. The Harp, but this knowledge is unbeknownst to you. 

"Stop fighting," he growls. "I'm taking you away from this place."

"Only to lock me up somewhere else." Your tears wet the blindfold. 

You struggle again, but it is useless against his strength. Your voice turns into a seething growl when you feel cold air brush you. Azriel rises. You rise. He is flying. And he is taking your with him. 

With a powerful surge of his wings, he gets airborne, leaving the prison behind. When air and wind swirls around you, you continue to squirm and strain against his hold.

"I won't let you imprison me again!" you seethe, fear and anger loud in your voice. 

He stays calm. 

Gradually, your resistance lessens, your body relaxing slightly against Azriel's chest, tension and pain still coiling inside of you. But you are tired. Exhausted. You only want to sleep. And that for ages. 

As you fly farther from the prison, towards Velaris, Azriel's embrace remains steadfast, his eyes brushing over your body from time to time. His actions are the only reason for you to hate him so much. And it hurts him as well. 

"Forgive me," Azriel breathes into the chilly night air, but you don't hear him anymore. 

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @callmeblaire

tag list wotf: @goldenmagnolias @chessebookgirl @blackgirlmagicforever @mollygetssherlockcoffee @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @janebirkln @cleverzonkwombatsludge @namelesssav @sidthedollface2 @brujitafantomatico @ruler-of-hades @favsrachz @katherinejess @jesus-is-me @ashbatz @onyx-obsession @mischiefmanagers @thesnugglingduck @wandas-dream @emryb @esposadomd @marvelouslovely-barnes @landofpetrichor @sheblogs @zoe2 @leeknows-wife @secretlyhers @itsswritten @lupinswolfsbanes @auggiesolovey @going-through-shit @esposadomd @ithan-holstroms-girl @v3lv3tf0x @hibye02 @karinalight @darling006 @just-a-social-casualty @shedreamswithstars @dr4g0ngirl @quinzzelx @shadowsingers-redhood

[denim-wizard]

My Little... Pirates? ((Aka I succumb to making a One Piece MLP AU)) ( part 1 // part 2 )

It always starts as a style experiment or practice drawing something new of some sort but tbh there is a darkness within me that is steadily brewing anyways HEY Y'ALL WANT. HEADCANONS? (this took me weeks to finally finish and post)

Introducing the pirate captain Monkey Do, first mate Zephyr Roar , and the fighting-cook Blackhoof Sanji (aka Devil Dancer) Coming up with names is Hard. Let's talk about these fools a little bit, with lots of headcanon to spare. Monkey Do ( aka Monkey D. Luffy) is our earth pony protagonist, and is largely unchanged. His cutiemark is a top down view of his iconic straw hat (or... is it? Some might say it looks a bit like a sun...) and his special talent is leadership. Earthponies are known for many things, and Luffy encompasses those qualities wholly-- he's loyal and strong, and has an endless appetite. an appettite that still contains a frankly concerning amount of meat. This little pony is not an herbivore. Zephyr Roar (aka Roronoa Zoro, or just 'Zoro' as Monkey Do calls him) is a pegasus who's special talent is the self invented three-sword-style. Yes he holds the other two with his wings. No he does not fly. Zoro's a real special guy like that. He largerly perfers to face his enemies on the ground, turning that pegasi speed into pure power. He's mean, he's green, and he thinks dust baths constitute as real bathing. Blackhoof, aka Devil Dancer (Sanji) is a unicorn who's special talent is cooking. His magic gives him a serious wallop in battle, and the old fashioned metal shoes let his superheated kicks pack even more of a punch. His natural magic is fire, and his time on Momoiro helped him learn real levitation, two traits that are just as powerful in the kitchen as they are on the battlefield. For all the stereotypes about unicorns that he breaks, Dancer enforces just as many-- he's prissy, wears fancy clothes, and he even shaves the fluffy fetlocks on his front legs to avoid contaimination while cooking. He's also got a taste for sweet things-- if the lollipop stick in his mouth was any indication. (if he still sounds like the godawful 4kids dub is for you to decide)

That's all I've got to say about these guys for now, and I hope you enjoy--I watched mlp as a kid and now that it's making it's resurgence I feel like I have a weird amount of thoughts about it. Headcanon and lore explanations my beloved. my ask box is always open, feel free to tell me who you'd like to see next. commissions open soon, hopefully

[just-null]

hii! i was thinking, after seeing your who's-your-fav-clone post ,about who would be their darling's favorite & i just wanted to 2share my thoughts.

honeslty my fav has always been urogi and in real-life context, i would be drawn to think that he would be the best yandere choice. like, he is the embodiment of positive emotions; everyone would like that, right? he fluffs up when he sees you, is happy to keep you company and loyal to his bird-like side, whenever he would see some shiny piece of something, let it be a jewel or radom metal or anything he likes, really, he would bring it to you and offer it as a mating gift^_^ so everything's perfect, right?

wrong😖 i mean all of the things above r still true, but urogi can get super overwhelming and your drawings + the you-mention-a-new-name post lowk highk made me scared of himm LMAOO like he is just so menacing, his devotion and love feel just super threatening no matter how sweet he tries to appear.

then, maybe the most gentle one, aizetsu? 🙅 nuh-uh, no. i actually really love your aizetsu cs i never thought about him in like this passive-aggressive manipulative/victim-complex toxic boyfriend light but it just fits him soo much! out of all the 4, he'd probably b the most emotionally drainig to be around.

sekido doesn't seem like a bad option too, if you put aside his bad temper... meaning, putting all of him aside lol. i mean, he seems like a guy who's dealing for the first time with very intense romantic feelings and his first instinct is to raise his guard up at like maximum security level🙁 all of his worries and uttered love confessions come out the wrong way and it just makes his darling withdraw from him, wich makes him panick. he tries to 'make things right' only scaring them further. his darling doesn't want to see him, spending all of their time w the others and he eventually lashes out on them and his siblings. even though he's only trying to look out for everyone..

soo i really think karaku is the better option. hes just a chill guyTM who might or might not be trying to get under his darling's pants sometimes, but he's so carefree (convinced that they won't never ever manage to escape since everyone is always watching them 24/7) that he just kind of lets them do whatever. like yeah you wanna go out? sure. have fun. if their darling is coming to seek any of them for comfort, it would most likely be him.

ultimately, i think the ranking would b this:

1. karaku

2. urogi

3. aizetsu

4. and much to his dismay, sekido

All pros and cons you stated are pretty accurate but you missed Karaku's cons. Surprise, he also is awful like the rest! Yes, he does let you go out and about, but not without consequences. He does things that could get others (or you) hurt on purpose or to save you from problems (that he made)

You probably won't get overwhelmed if the others are there to regulate everyone, so you'll be a semi regular couple. Harem?

Too much of a good thing can be a bad thing as the saying goes. Karaku is too carefree. He's too confident that you'll bounce back if wounded. He's too confident you'll still come back to him at the end of the day.

They're parts of a whole at the end of the day, they need each other so they dont make you lose your mind, and life. The worst of them can end up being your saviors and vise versa.

As for our special hedonist, Karaku likes to PORTRAY himself as a pretty relaxed guy, to you specifically. He's not too pushy unless he knows you won't be too put off by it. But that damn thrill seeker side.....

He gets bored easily and constantly seeking pleasure like an addict. How do you get the best hit? After a disaster, of course! A disaster he made since things can get pretty quiet without a push.

Karaku wants your praise and favor, but he's not going to ruin his image in front of you. (Un)Fortunately for him, he knows you aren't able to have your eyes on him 24/7. In that downtime, he can do whatever he wants, like causing disaster around you or others. Little things that snowball and have you calling them (specifically him) to "save" you.

It's a good day if all Karaku does is try seducing you.

[bogleech]

We know that new Arthropoids can be made by fusing an individual human with an insect specimen. But what does this process actually look like?

Is it fast, slow? Gradual or sudden? Uncomfortable? Do you hole up in a cocoon, or do you keep going to work? How much of the person's identity is retained - and who opts for a thing like this, anyway?

P.S: thanks for answering my Mortasheen questions!

In the earliest concepts for the Mortasheen world it was exactly like "The Fly;" you just get zapped in a machine and instantly fused. It kind of still works that way but it's more complicated. It still works on normal humans, but it's more commonly a Sectilian, a lineage of metahumans who are the keepers of the tech itself and already born with countless Arthropod genomes. When they near adulthood they begin to undergo a nasty metamorphosis and even form into a fleshy cocoon, which will die unless it can be fused with just the right species of Arthropod. They know which one they're "meant" to fuse with as it begins to haunt their dreams more and more throughout their youth. If successful they'll emerge from the process with part of themselves "swapped" with the bug, like the original Fly.

This retains their entire mind, and they have a permanent mental link with the counterpart bug, which now has some of their parts, and naturally lives as long as they do. It's just kind of a remote extension of their body.

If they were not a Sectilian (some other metahuman, or a regular human) or they're paired with the "wrong" Arthropod, then they become a fully merged hybrid monster, like the newer Fly

Arthropoid monsters are mentally much less human, with only fragmented/dim memories of their former life overwhelmed by appropriate new directives such as "spin webs to catch food" or "hide inside dead trees," though they'll generally still be loyal to anyone they were close to before.

Arthropoids can also mate, reproduce and make little baby versions of themselves, so the vast majority that exist are not the products of fusion, but fusion IS necessary to create an entirely new "species line" for them. Mortasheen is a setting full of mad biologists so there are plenty of people who would do this for the sheer scientific discovery of it or because being a big bug under a big rock just sounds like a cool life. Becoming the first member of an entirely new monster variety also has some mystique to it, so even among Sectilians it's not always seen as a "failure." They may resort to it in order to live when they can't find the right personal bug, or they may prefer it because full Arthropoids are physically a lot more powerful/dangerous and they want to be able to protect their family clans. Current official art of 2 Sectilians compared with equivalent Arthropoids:

[mochinomnoms]

The day Yuu introduced any of Octavinelle trio as their mate (Let alone all 3 or just 2), a part of their soul dies 1. Beacuse he knows they mate for life and 2. Beacuse on the list of suitable suitors for his dear pup all of Octavinelle was on the bottom in the F tier. He has a slight heart attack and gives "the dad talk" to them.

"Them?"

"Yes"

"Them. Out of all the pups in the school you chose THEMMMM"

"Yeah."

*His soul rises out of his body for a moment* "Are you TRYING to make me go GREY!!!! I swear i will turn into Trien by the end of the year!"

Then on the complete Opposite end, if Yuu introduces Kalim as their partner Crewel is happy. He was in the A teir for suitors beacuse he is the goodness Boi.

S tier is Vil but he is happy his puppy ended up with someone who wasn't a criminal.

Ah, I love assigning Crewel as the dad against his will. I do believe that he and Trein out of the staff are the best parental figures to Yuu. Let's be honest, Sam is like an older cool brother, Vargas is your way too into sports uncle, and Crowley is the dad that you don't call your dad anymore cause he was a really shitty dad. I imagine his relationship with Yuu is closer to bickering siblings with a maaaaasive age gap.

Anyways, yes Crewel has a tier list:

His main priority is making sure that you end up with someone who has/will have a good foundation to take care of you, especially since you don't have any family (other than him now) to be your support if something goes wrong. Is other priorities are that they will be generally good to you, you'll be in no danger, and that they're responsible.

S tier is Vil, you're correct. Vil is one of his top students, is respectful, has a wonderful taste in fashion and makeup, makes good money even now, and comes from a good family. Crewel knows that with Vil, his pup will be taken care of! This is simialr with Trey, someone who is doting and kind and also comes from a good family), and Riddle. He thinks Riddle is good, hard worker that will be loyal and dedicated to you, as well as provide a solid home and family. Even if his mother's a bitch, he has a good background and lineage... plus you'd live near him over school breaks.

I actually don't think he'd have that much of an issue with Azul. Yes, he can be shady, but Azul does well in school, is very motivated to become a great business owner, and has a good family that owns a restaurant. The others in this section are also solid people who Crewel thinks would cherish and care for you. Deuce is probably the most surprising… but Deuce is very earnest and cares very deeply for his family. While he may not have the best track record, and doesn't have a rich family, Deuce cares very deeply and will make sure that his partner is happy no matter what. Thus, Crewel approves.

Neutral is pretty self-explanatory, but the “ooh, really?” is very interesting, as it's filled with arguably the richest and prominent students. Which is why he does not like them. Kalim regularly deals with assassination attempts, Leona is an arrogant second-born prince from a nation with numerous issues, and Malleus is the crown-prince of an isolated nation that is known to not like humans. He'd be worried about any sort of stress you'd be under, especially since you'd be publicized, and while he trusts Vil to keep a tight grip on the tabloids due to his career, he can't extend the same courtesy to what are quite frankly political figures. He knows that they have the means, family, and personality to love you. Arguably, these three are the type that once they fall, they fall hard and become devoted to their partner. But… still… are you sure you wanna get with them?

For the bottom tier…. Yeah. The twins are shady troublemakers, and while Azul at least has a good family, Crewel can figure nothing out about the Leech family or what they do. They enjoy scaring other students, and while Jade at least does well in school, he and Floyd are just not what he thinks you deserve. Ace is… well… Ace. Rook, as much as he enjoys having him in class and in the science club, is a bit too eccentric for his tastes. He'd be worried about Rook drawing the line between love and obsession. Finally, Idia is just a shut in who has little to no social skills, bad habits, and lives very far away. Crewel firmly believes that you'd become some sort of house spouse cleaning after a man-child, too busy with his games to help you out.

Overall, though, Crewel knows that he can't control who his pup falls for, but he can give a very solid shovel talk with a very solid warning about what happens to bad dogs that don't treat their partners right.