#thread: stop having it be broken

[lionsword]

Stop Having It Be Broken- Team Guard

Wall/gate repairs with @arcaeda and whoever else would like to join!

Roy wasn’t used to this sort of manual labor, but he was willing to do his best. He sat on the ground, studying how a broken piece of a wall was constructed, imagining it without the splinters. He looked to the rest of the wall, which was intact, and figured he could make a piece patched in to fix the gap.

“Oh, hello Caeda.” He smiled at her, lap full of the broken piece he’d just taken off. “The wall needs quite a bit right here, but we can probably get it done within the day. I figure that replacing what’s been broken can be fitted over like a patch and then nailed in, or maybe we just go bit by bit?”

His hands stayed busy as he chatted, sorting what was salvageable from what was only suitable for kindling.

“It’s kind of nice, having something to do that isn’t all battle.”

[villainsidestep]

there’s just smth to be said abt being so scared of being left alive but incapacitated in a way that reminds you of the single most traumatic incident of your life so far that the only way out you clearly see in the moment is to disregard all pretenses of morals and try to forcibly control the person attacking you to brutally murder you for no other reason than needing to not end up in their clutches again 🤷🏼‍♀️ the girlies that get it get it !!

[polyamorouspunk]

“Why Don’t You Just Move?”

A look at rural queerness and the hardcore scene.

With the recent and still on-going tragedy left in the wake of Hurricane Helene, a lot of light is being shed on southern states that make up Appalachia.

There’s a lot of misconceptions about Appalachia and the southern United States as a whole. There are a lot of good users on this website that have put a lot of effort into combating these harmful stereotypes and clearing up misconceptions.

But there’s more than just Appalachia in the south. There’s a lot of middle ground. Places that aren’t as rural as Appalachia, but places that aren’t as populated as cities like Raleigh, Richmond, Memphis, etc.

Places where people gather surrounded by other agricultural hubs.

There are queer people everywhere. In every culture, every religion, every country, in all of history, we have existed. We cannot and we will not be erased.

A common narrative that’s floated around for many years is “if red states are passing laws that are constructive to the LGBT+ community, then why don’t those people just move?”

So why don’t we just move?

I’m sure you can find a lot of well-written posts on here explaining many reasons why queer people not just in the southern states, but all over the world don’t “just move”, and one reason I’ve seen echoed over and over again is that “we have thriving communities here too”. We exist too.

How does one “be punk”?

It’s a question my mutuals and I get a lot, and a lot of us are tired of hearing it.

What does it mean to be punk?

Is it about the music? The clothes? The politics? Can you be punk if? Is it punk if you? Who? What? Where? When?

One common beginner tip to “being punk” is to find and join the local scene. This can lead to a lot of other questions, though. What is a scene? Where does one find the scene? How does one participate in the scene? Is there a minimum requirement?

Rest assured, literally no one is asking this offline.

A hardcore scene is so much more than just hardcore. A scene is a group of people where music is a common thread that builds the basis of other connections. A hardcore scene isn’t necessarily even hardcore.

“You have to listen to punk music to be punk”. Sure. But here’s the thing. In your local hardcore scene you will find: metal musicians, rappers, and more. You will attend shows with blues music, orchestras, and more.

Sometimes it’s not even music at all! Sometimes there is drag! Sometimes there are movie nights! Sometimes there are group outings!

It’s almost like… it’s just a social construct.

What is the local scene? The local scene is loud music. It’s smoking and drinking. It’s stopping by the corner store and the smoke and vape. It’s carpooling. It’s movie nights. It’s text chains. It’s group chats. It’s he-said-she-said. It’s they said. It’s AMAB enbies. It’s people who don’t care about “passing”. It’s DIY HRT. It’s she was a lesbian until she met him. It’s situationships. It’s hooking up and coming down. It’s bouncing from place to place to meet up with each other. It’s showing up someplace and seeing who’s there and waiting around to see who’s coming. It’s late nights spent partying on the weekends and back to school and work come the weekdays. It’s knowing someone by looks or name even if you haven’t put the two together yet. It’s trading socials. It’s Instagram stories and comments. It’s “DM for Address”. It’s “are you going tonight?” It’s “do you need a ride?” It’s “who else is going?”. It’s going somewhere and asking who’s coming. It’s sitting around on broken chairs and lawn furniture passing around a blunt, sharing a 24 pack of beer that 4 of you ran out to get with money you all pooled together, it’s “should we order pizza?” It’s “I brought donuts”. It’s hanging out in each other’s houses and rooms. It’s respecting the businesses that offer to house you. It’s generational friendships. It’s listening to your friends as they joke about their heritage and talk about their cultures. It’s the dog you pet when you’re sitting on the curb in ripped fishnets taking drunk selfies with your friends. It’s the man playing you the harmonica as you sit outside the THC drink bar on a Saturday night. It’s sitting out in the yard listening to someone play an acoustic set where they talk about the war and poverty and politics while you slowly get high surrounded by your friends. It’s sitting on a dock in the middle of the night fishing listening to emo music huddled together with your friends. It’s autistic people showing each other the bugs they’ve found in the dirt. It’s talking about your disabilities together. It’s shoving your friends in the pit and then holding their hands. It’s seeing the cos guys in their 40s and 50s who tend the bar and work the register calling you by whatever name and pronouns you give them. It’s all of this and so much more, and it cannot be conceptualized by one single fashion style, one single music style, one single belief system. It’s not someone calling you out because you went to Chick-Fil-A and don’t you know that’s bad, it’s not someone telling you that you’re a poser because you like Chappell Roan too or your clothes were bought at Forever 21 not thrifted and DIYed.

Everyone likes to talk about folk punk and other genres that bands like Dayz and Daze have popularized- or according to some, commodified and commercialized- but if you’re going to talk about music like folk punk, you’re going to have to respect the areas that it originated in.

Everyone want’s to talk about “local punk bands” when half the bands you’re seeing don’t even fall under the genre of punk.

Your local scene isn’t always going to be skate parks and thrash music.

Sometimes it’s the mom cooking you and all your queer friends dinner on a Friday night in her kitchen with crosses and a picture frame of her family with the quote “live, laugh, love”.

Sometimes it’s sitting around and listening to men who are old enough to be your grandfather with Vietnam Veteran hats play the blues while a pig roasts in a backyard BBQ, even though you’re in your 20s and you have blue hair and pronouns.

It’s sitting around and listening to your elders talk about how the scene used to be “back in the day”. Talk about the shows they’ve been to, the bands they’ve seen in their prime.

It’s asking what you do for work, where do you live, what brought you down here, what’s your college major?

It’s people. It’s people connecting to people. Regardless of the color of their skin. Regardless of gender or sexuality. It’s people of all ages coming together to listen to music with the idea that what you all have in common is living here and now, hating politicians, and thinking that someone should do something about the shitty state the world is in. It’s not a conglomerate. It’s individuality, and there’s no real wrong way of doing it unless you’re a Trump Supporter or a Nazi, and even then, they still have their own factions of the punk scene that are going to overlap with yours on occasion. The best you can do then is stand up for what you believe in and stay safe.

There are scenes just like mine all over this country. In southern states, in rural areas, in places that other, mainly white queers have “written off”.

So why don’t we just move?

Because this is our scene, and it’s what we make it, and in the heart of the south in the Bible Belt, we’re making it a queer-inclusive space despite what’s happening around us.

[pucksandpower]

Shameless

Charles Leclerc x Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: you + Lestappen + a sex tape leak + one very unamused head of communications … need I say more?

Based on this request

The Red Bull Racing communications office smells like stale coffee and impending doom. Portia, the team’s head of communications, sits stiffly in the center of the storm, knuckles white around her phone. She stares at the video playing on her laptop, horrified but unable to look away.

The footage is intimate, explicit — grainy but undeniably clear. Three people, tangled up in sheets, moaning names, gasping into each other’s mouths. Max Verstappen. You. And, unmistakably, Charles Leclerc.

Her inbox is a dumpster fire of urgent PR memos, emails with subject lines in all caps, and press releases that have already been revised half a dozen times. She hasn’t even responded to half of them yet. No point.

This is beyond damage control.

The door swings open violently, smacking into the wall. Max strolls in first, looking every bit as casual as if he just finished a training session. You follow behind him, your hair in a messy bun, holding a half-eaten croissant. Charles is the last to enter, chewing gum like this is the most ordinary thing in the world.

Portia blinks at the three of you. “… What the hell?”

Max plops into the chair across from her, sprawling out like he’s just arrived at a friend’s house. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Portia repeats, incredulous. “You-” She gestures frantically toward her screen. “The video. The world just saw everything, Max! You, her, him-” She throws a desperate look at Charles, who only shrugs.

“Yeah. We saw,” Charles says casually, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to Max. “Kind of funny, no?”

Portia makes a strangled noise in her throat. “No! It is not funny, Charles. None of this is funny!” She can already feel the migraine creeping in, sharp and mean behind her left eye.

Max leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Listen, it’s not like we were hiding it. We’ve been-”

“Friends,” you interject, your voice calm as ever. “Very close friends.”

Charles grins. “Really close.”

Max winks. “Super close.”

Portia pinches the bridge of her nose. “Stop saying that.”

“You’re the one freaking out,” Max says, as if that makes any of this better. “It’s not a big deal.”

Portia throws up her hands. “Max, it’s not just a sex tape. It’s a scandal. Sponsors, shareholders, media outlets — everyone is calling. Red Bull is losing its mind, Ferrari is fuming, and the internet-” She gestures vaguely toward the air, as if the internet is some wild animal loose in the building. “-is losing its collective shit.”

Charles leans back, folding his arms behind his head. “The internet always loses its shit.”

“True,” Max agrees, glancing at you. “Remember when they thought we broke up because I didn’t post anything for two weeks?”

You hum thoughtfully, finishing the last bite of your croissant. “They were so mad.”

Portia stares at the three of you like she’s trapped in some bizarre fever dream. “Are none of you remotely concerned about this?”

Max shrugs. “Not really.”

“It’s out now,” you say, wiping your hands on a napkin. “What’s the point of stressing?”

Charles nods like you just delivered the most profound truth of the century. “Exactly. It’s not like we can put it back in the box.”

“Oh my god,” Portia mutters, pressing her palms to her temples. “You’re all insane.”

Max flashes her a charming smile — the kind that usually gets him out of trouble. “Come on, Portia. You handle worse than this all the time.”

“Not this, I don’t!” She groans. “I mean, sure, we’ve dealt with crashes, team infighting, broken engines, drunk interviews-” She shoots a pointed look at Max, who grins unapologetically. “But this? This is next level.”

Charles checks his phone, seemingly unbothered by her panic. “The fans seem to love it, though. Look-” He flips the screen toward Portia. It’s a Twitter thread full of memes and heart-eye emojis, captioned with things like Lestappen and Y/N living their best lives and Honestly, goals.

Portia glares at the phone like it just insulted her family. “This is not helping.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “Actually, it kind of is.” He points at the screen. “If the fans are cool with it, the sponsors will calm down eventually.”

“Sponsors are not fans.” Portia slams her laptop shut, as if doing so will somehow make the problem disappear. “Sponsors are very rich, very conservative people who do not want their logos anywhere near a video of you having a threesome!”

Charles clicks his tongue thoughtfully. “Technically, it’s not just a threesome.”

Portia shoots him a death glare. “I swear to God, Charles-”

You stifle a laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. Max notices, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he nudges you with his elbow. “See? Even Y/N thinks it’s funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” you admit, which only makes Charles beam with satisfaction.

Portia looks like she’s on the verge of a breakdown. “This is not funny. None of this is funny.”

“I think you need to relax,” Max says, as if that’s the simplest solution in the world. “It’s not like we committed a crime.”

“It might as well be,” Portia snaps. “Do you know what Ferrari is going to do with this? They’re probably drafting some moral code violation complaint as we speak.”

Charles waves a hand dismissively. “They can’t fire me. I bring too much to the table.”

Portia gives him a flat look. “Charles, you are the table.”

“Exactly.”

Max turns to you, his hand casually resting on the back of your chair. “Do you think we should put out a statement?”

You consider it for a moment, then shake your head. “Nah. Statements are boring.”

“Agreed,” Charles says, pulling his phone back out to scroll through more tweets. “No one likes statements.”

Portia exhales slowly, as if trying to summon every ounce of patience she has left. “Okay, so let me get this straight. Your solution to this PR nightmare is ... to do absolutely nothing?”

“Exactly,” Max says with a satisfied nod. “We just let it blow over.”

“Like Austria,” you add.

Portia stares at you, aghast. “Austria? You cannot compare this to a racing incident in Austria!”

Max looks thoughtful. “I don’t know. I think it’s kind of similar. People get mad for a while, then they forget.”

Charles grins mischievously. “By next week, someone else will do something stupid, and no one will care about this.”

Portia groans, dragging her hands down her face. “You are all ... impossible.”

Max reaches across the table to pat her shoulder. “You’ll see. Everything will be fine.”

“Max,” Portia says, her voice low and dangerous. “If this mess costs us a single sponsor — just one — I swear I will make your life a living hell.”

Max’s grin widens. “You already do.”

You burst out laughing at that, and even Portia can’t suppress a reluctant smile, though it’s clear she’s fighting it with every fiber of her being.

“This isn’t over,” she warns, but there’s no real bite in her voice.

“It never is,” Charles says breezily. “But that’s half the fun, no?”

You lean into Max’s side, content and completely unbothered, and he drapes an arm around your shoulders. Charles glances over at the two of you, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “See? We’re all good. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Portia shoots him a murderous glare. “Do not say that.”

Max laughs, the sound low and easy, and for a moment, it feels like the world outside the room doesn’t exist — no scandals, no cameras, no angry emails. Just the three of you, stuck in the strangest mess, but somehow, perfectly fine with it.

And, really, isn’t that all that matters?

***

A few weeks later, Portia is sitting at her desk, sipping her second coffee of the morning, when her inbox pings with a new email. She glances at the subject line, hoping it’s something routine — maybe a press update, or an invitation to a sponsor event.

Instead, her heart drops.

URGENT: New Video — Verstappen, Leclerc, and Y/L/N on Beach Vacation

She groans audibly, slamming her head down on the desk with a dramatic thud. They didn’t listen to her at all.

Opening the email, her stomach churns as she scrolls down to the attached link. The video loads instantly — there’s Max, Charles, and you, sun-kissed and carefree, lounging on beach chairs somewhere tropical. The sound of waves crashing in the background is almost soothing.

Almost.

And then, without warning, it escalates — hands everywhere, tangled limbs, kisses that start off playful but quickly turn into something else entirely. A bottle of rosé tips over in the sand as Max pulls you onto his lap, and Charles leans over, dragging his mouth along your shoulder with a grin.

Portia shakes her head in disbelief, muttering under her breath, “I’m going to kill them.”

Another ping. This time, a text from Max.

Saw the email. You’re gonna love the next one.

She screams into her coffee mug.

[tinycoffeeroom]

more than enough | lando norris

face claim: none ♡

request: here !

requested: Hi lovely, I loved just friends!! Since reading, all I’ve been able to thinking about is bestfriend/roomate Lando. Maybe you’re not able to join him for race weekend and he hasn’t heard from you, like at all. When he returns, he thinks you’re not home until he hears the sobs and realises something is really wrong. Maybe you’ve broken up with your boyfriend and Lando is standing on the other side of your locked bedroom door, absolutely in love with you and hurting because you’re hurting 🫠

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

📍 Miami

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 1,387,928 others

landonorris WE FUCKING DID IT!!!!! P1 in Miami!!!!! you bitches can't call me lando nowins anymore!!!

See 997,729 other comments

fan you can tell lando runs his own social media... ↳ mclaren it is our biggest burden

oscarpiastri well done mate! well deserved! ♥️ landonorris ↳ landonorris you next osc!!!

maxverstappen1 i said i'd have to collect my wins before you start coming for them, congrats winner! ♥️ landonorris

mclaren our papaya boy, you will always be loved (heart) ♥️ landonorris

fan WHERE IS Y/N?????? ↳ fan lando said in an interview that she couldn't come this week!!!! i'm sure she texted / called him

fan i know y/ns screaming and crying at the fact she couldn't be there this week

fan no lando / y/n hugging photo :((((( i miss my best friends

liked by fan, fan and 19,036 others

f1gossip Lando Norris' roommate and best friend Y/N L/N was caught in a heated argument with her recently debuted beau outside a restaurant in Monaco. The person who sent the photo in was too far away to hear the argument, but said Y/N seemed despondent to the situation, watching her boyfriend walk away before paying the bill and leaving quietly. Soon after, waiter's came to each outside table and told them Y/N sent her apologies for the commotion.

fan y/n :(((( was he the reason she couldn't go to Miami????

fan i'm gonna dox him ↳ fan i mean... i'm not gonna stop you

fan i have a knife.

fan i hope he's an ex boyfriend now wtf???

fan do you guys remember the pics of her and lando talking at padel and her bf was shooting DAGGERS at lando??? yeah somethings going on there ↳ fan we hate insecure men

fan lando i know u have money and connections i need this man to disappear

It wasn’t unusual for you to go radio silent after a race you weren’t able to attend, especially one on the other side of the world. Lando was used to a simple “congrats on P4!<3333” or wherever he had placed that time, and then you would be off to the land of dreams as he went about his day, shuffling between meetings and the media paddock. 

Today was different however. Lando had actually won. He’d won his first ever race and his best friend and roommate was virtually nowhere to be seen. He couldn’t help but feel a little angry at you, you knew how much P1 meant to him, the hours he had spent moping around the little apartment the two of you shared after a bad race and the rants he would go on when he placed P2 but was inches from that ever so elusive win, slipping just through his fingertips. 

He fired off one last text to you before sliding the phone back into the waistband of his fireproofs so he had his hands free to accept celebratory fist bumps and handshakes from every garage along the paddock. 

The lack of communication from you slowly slipped his mind after he had interview after interview, the kind and excited words of the journalists filling him with pride as they recall just how far ahead of Max he had been. Sure, his mood soured everytime someone mentioned that he got lucky with the safety car but his mother always told him that luck was something to utilise, not something to rely on. 

When he was finally free of the media’s hands, he checked his phone again. No messages from you which made him sigh, but one from Max. Opening their text thread, he’d dropped Lando a location pin for a well known bar in Miami along with the sentence “9pm, be there or be square, race winner”. 

–

To be quite honest, Lando doesn’t remember much of the party. Hell, he doesn’t even remember getting there, Zak having plied him with glass after glass of champagne during their debrief. He’s pretty sure Oscar had been the one to zip his fly up when they met outside their hotel rooms before the party, hands moving up to recentre his shirt so only a slightly scandalous amount of chest showed. 

Sitting on the private jet, again courtesy of Max, he thumbed through the last text thread between the two of you. You’d seemed fine, mentioning that you were going out for a meal with your boyfriend before the race started, and then… nothing. Complete and total radio silence. 

Maybe you were still with your boyfriend, too wrapped up in that jackass to notice the 17 messages Lando had left you since last night. 

God, he hated that guy. Ever since the day you had introduced him to Lando, he’d had a bad feeling. The guy was too touchy, arm wrapped securely and possessively around your waist like Lando was some kind of threat. 

And maybe he was. 

If he’d just manned up and told you the truth, that he’d loved you since the moment the two of you met one sunny day when he was still an F2 driver and you were the sister of one of his rivals, then maybe it would be his arm draped around you. 

Instead he had smiled, rolled over and showed his stomach like a runt at the bottom of the food chain, and watched from afar as the guy whisked you away under a mottled sunset. 

He felt a nudge at his side, eyes meeting Max’s curious ones. “Still no reply?”

He sighed, shaking his head as he pocketed his phone once again. “Maybe she’s busy…”

The excuse sounds weak even to his own ears, and when Max simply hums unbelievingly, he sighs again, mind torn in half at the elation of his win and the sadness of your ignoration. 

–

Sliding the key into the door, he listened ahead for any sign of life. The sound of dishes clinking in the sink, or your playlist of noughties hits that he always pretended to hate but would secretly sing along to when you weren’t looking. 

The silence that blankets him is unnerving. Too reminiscent of when he’d moved here alone and had all but begged you to join him, promising a rent free and easy going life. 

Checking the kitchen, he sees it’s exactly as he left it last week. The living room is barely lived in, the odd throw misplaced from the back of the sofa. His game room door is still shut, as is both his and your bedrooms. 

As he walks through to drop his suitcase off in his room, dreading the amount of washing that will fall out of it when he gets the energy to open, he hears a noise. From your bedroom, specifically. 

Checking his watch, he sees its 2 in the afternoon. Normally, you would be up and out by now, dragging Lando to whatever new fad you had seen on tiktok, or to the padel courts where he would inevitably lose to you. 

Leaning so his ear presses against the door, he can make out the shuffling of sheets. Maybe you had decided to do some laundry whilst you waited for him to get back. But then, the sound of sniffling joins. 

He freezes on the spot, ear still pressed haphazardly to the wooden door. The sniffles get louder and louder, soon joined behind an unmistakable sob. He can feel his heart drop to the floor, his stomach joining it on its tumultuous way down. 

You were crying. And he had no idea why. 

Pulling away from the door, his hand hovers the knob. Should he knock first? Should he just leave you to it? Normally, when you were sad, you would sneak into whichever room he was in, either reaching a hand out to lay against his back or sitting close enough so your thighs touch. He knew you needed to feel some part of him in order to ground yourself, and he always obliged. Oftentimes, the two of you would end up cuddled on the couch, some soppy chick flick on the tv as you gave into the warmth surrounding you, eyes closing as you rested your head against his shoulder. Despite how much it hurt to see you sad, he couldn’t deny these quiet moments were his favourite part of any day. 

Another sob breaks out, the sound so cruel and visceral, it was as if it had been yanked from your very soul. He forgoes knocking, hand twisting the knob harshly. He tries to push it open, only to be met by a force pushing back against him. 

You’d locked the door. 

In the 4 years of living together, neither of you had ever once locked your bedroom doors, knowing the other would knock before entering but still feeling comfortable enough to forgo privacy so the rooms could be open to the other whenever. 

“Y/N?” He calls out hesitantly, as one would approach an injured bird. 

The sobs become muffled, more shuffling of sheets before you call back to him, voice weak and torn along the edges. “Lando?”

He normally loved when you said his name, but the whine that accompanies it today leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He knows he should ask what’s wrong but he doesn’t know where to begin. He’s never not known why you’re sad, the two of you an open book shared between friends. 

He starts the only way he knows how. “Did you watch the race?”

More shuffling of sheets and when you respond, your voice is closer. “I’m sorry Lan, I didn’t get a chance to.” A moment of silence passes between the two of you. “How did you do?”

He wants to be angry. He really does. The one time you don't watch a race and he only goes and bloody wins it. “I won.”

“What?” Your voice wobbles, wondering if you were imagining what he had just said. 

“I won, Y/N. My first P1. 7 seconds ahead of Max.”

He waits for your response, probably some form of congratulations spoken through wood given your current mood. What he wasn’t expecting was for you to unlock and slam open the door, the both of you wincing as it bangs against the wall. “Say that again.”

He takes you in for a moment. Bloodshot eyes rimmed with violet, tears still making their way down flushed cheeks. You’re wrapped in your duvet, only your head visible as the duvet covers what is probably bedhead and your favourite set of pyjamas - flannel trousers and a t-shirt of Lando’s you had stolen at some point. 

Shrugging his shoulders, he smiles warily at you. “I won.”

Throwing yourself at him, he takes a moment to steady the two of you, arms wrapping around the mass of duvets surrounding you. He can feel you crying again, tears soaking the collar of his shirt. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lan. I should have watched, I mean you won and I wasn’t even there to watch. I’m sorry, please forgive me.” You choke through the words, fingers digging roughly into Lando’s back. 

He winces at the feeling of your nails digging into his skin through the shirt, squeezing you even closer to him. “Don’t be sorry. Something obviously happened.” He uses the mound of duvet to pull you away, eyes flickering over your face. You look heartbroken in more ways than one. “What happened, sweet girl?”

Your lips quiver at the nickname, a hand poking through the duvet to reveal your phone. After 3 tries of using face ID, you huff, angrily putting in your passcode before turning the screen to Lando. 

He scans the screen. It’s an instagram post by some F1 gossip page. He recognised the user as one who often tried to paint him as some womaniser, taking any regular interaction with a woman as a sign he was sleeping with them. 

This post, however, is different. He sees you first, mouth in a tense line as you stare blankly at your boyfriend. Then he sees the caption. 

The anger returns, festering and dark, this time directed to your dickhead of a boyfriend. “What did he do?”

You sigh, locking the screen and pulling your hand back into the duvet cocoon. “I said I wanted to go home because your race was about to start. He got angry and accused me of being in love with you. I pointed out that I was literally on a date with him. He called me every name under the sun, told me we were over and then stormed off. I’m sorry, Lan, this isn’t good publicity for you.”

He scoffed, eyebrows raising skyward. “I dont give a fuck about the publicity, I care about you. How dare he speak to you like that?” He can tell the angers bleeding into his tone but he’s about 2 seconds away from finding out where that prick lives and beating him over the head with a padel racket. “Are you ok? Do you want to put on a chick flick? Order a takeaway? Go to a rage room and plaster his face across every breakable thing?” Moving closer, he rests his hand against your jaw, nudging it between your tear stained skin and the soft duvet. “Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

Sighing, you nuzzle against his hand. “None of that, Lan. I just want to cry and forget what happened last night.”

Swallowing his pride, he nods. “Do you want me to talk to him? I can tell him we’re not in love with each other. Just best friends.” The ending comes out a little bitterly, but he hopes you’re too distracted to notice. 

You smile up at him affectionately. The simple curve is enough to make his heart flutter from where it had picked itself off the floor and wormed its way back into his chest. 

Reaching up to lay your hand over his, lacing your fingers between his, you sandwich it between the warmth he so craved. ��I just want to be with you. You make everything better.”

He reflects your smile, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone. You wanted him, just him, and for now that was more than enough. 

[hoshifighting]

sucking jihoon even after he cums because you're in your fertile period and somehow the way his leg starts to shake and his voice breaks makes you drip down your shorts.

overstimulating woozi on your fertile period

WARNINGS: smut, overstimulation (both), mentions of body fluids (spit, cum), dirty talk, fingering, oral (m. receiving), mentions of soft cock.

watching jihoon cum will always be one of the best views u have. you loved it, and he always knew. he was a little shy with the idea of ​​you looking at him like that. especially when your eyes never left his, the signs of your cheeks flushing were a sign that that time of the month had arrived. his cock pulsed inside your throat, and you felt the white cum coating your mouth, no pity in swallowing it.

“fuck— y/n, i—” jihoon’s voice broke halfway through, and it was so fucking sexy to hear him lose it like that. his leg had started to twitch, that tiny shake you knew meant he was hanging on by a thread. but you didn’t stop. didn’t even think about stopping, actually. it made you suck harder, hollowing out your cheeks and pressing your tongue flat against his shaft.

his cum was salty, thick on your tongue, but you don't give a pin. it wasn’t like you were letting up anytime soon. your body was basically screaming for him, your core soaking through your shorts, that annoying ache between your legs. it wasn’t just need. no, you were in that dangerous, desperate place that made you shameless, greedy for more. you didn’t care if he’d just cum, you didn’t care if your jaw was starting to burn, all you could think about was dragging him through another round.

“s-shit… y/n, s’too much…” jihoon let out this pathetic little whimper, hands fisting in the sheets, eyes squeezed shut like he was fighting it so hard. “god, are you serious?”

you smirked, pulling off him with a wet pop just to let your spit drip down his cock, a string of it sticking from your lips. “too much? baby, i haven’t even started.” you didn’t give him time to respond before you were back at it, sucking his tip so slow, teasing. his hips jerked up like it was instinctual, but his body was so done, you could tell. his legs were trembling, full-on shaking now.

you felt it every time he twitched, his cock jumping against your tongue, more sensitive than before. his breath hitched, all broken and uneven. the way his hand fell to your head, weakly trying to push you away but not really meaning it, only made you hungrier. you wanted to see him fall apart, wanted him to lose it so bad he couldn’t even fucking think.

you looked up, watching him through your lashes, his face flushed red, eyes squeezed shut, and his lips parted in a silent moan. the way he was so fucking pretty like that, all helpless and overstimulated, made you clench your thighs together.

you were dripping. literally. the wetness soaked through your shorts, sticking to your skin, and you could feel yourself pulsing with every whimper that left his mouth. shit, you needed him so bad you could cry. his hand tightens in your hair, and for a second, he tries to lift your head off his dick, but you’re not letting go. no way.

“holy shit, baby—ah! shitshitshit,” he’s stuttering now, his head falls back, and his chest rises and falls rapidly, your mouth wet and messy as you take him all the way in again, ignoring the way his legs are shaking so hard that the bed’s starting to creak under you both.

“you’re—” he gasps, voice wrecked, “you’re fucking insatiable.”

you pull off just long enough to look up at him, lips shiny with spit and cum. “’s your fault for making me like this,” you shoot back, eyes locking with his, challenging him to say something else.

he’s lost for words though, a strangled moan ripping out of him when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock and stroke him, lazily, milking him for more. you know he’s close again. you can feel it in the way his hips jump toward you, desperate and needy, his entire body begging nut even though he’s already spent.

and just like that, he cums again, this time the cum isn’t as thick, but it still fills your mouth enough to make you swallow hard. he’s sinking deeper into the mattress, completely fucking gone. eyes squeezed shut, legs twitching uncontrollably, his whole body limp like he’s got nothing left to give. it makes you laugh, a soft chuckle that slips out as you pull off him, letting his cock finally slip free. his thighs are still shaking, and you run your hand along them, feeling the tremors under your palm. “damn, baby,” you mutter, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “you’re fucking ruined.”

he breathes out a shaky laugh, too fucked out to respond properly, his eyes still half-closed. then his eyes flicker open, catching the way you’re shifting uncomfortably, pressing your thighs together like you can’t hold it back anymore. it takes him a second—brain still foggy—but then he notices it. the wet patch on your shorts, the dark spot spreading over the fabric, and the way you’re practically grinding down on nothing, trying to get some relief.

“hmm…” his voice is still rough, but he sounds more awake now, eyes widening as he takes it in. “are you… dripping?”

his words hit you like a punch, your body reacting before you can even think about it. your thighs clench together tighter, a flush of heat spreading across your face as you realize just how wet you are. it’s not just damp—it’s soaked, sticky and warm, and fuck, you’re dripping through your shorts, making a mess without even touching yourself.

“it’s your fault,” you shoot back, but your tone comes out way too shaky, exposing just how much you’re turned on. “you—” you pause, swallowing thickly as you shift again, feeling the slickness between your legs.

jihoon’s eyes darken, “fuck, babe,” he whispers, his hand reaching out, fingers tracing the edge of your shorts. “let me see.”

you hesitate for a second, but the throbbing between your legs is too much, and the way he’s looking at you, all needy—it makes you want him even more. so you push your shorts down, the fabric sticking to your skin from how soaked they are. jihoon groans as soon as he sees, his hand immediately slipping between your legs, fingers grazing over your swollen, dripping core.

“god, baby, you’re fucking soaked,” he coos, eyes locked on you as he runs his fingers through your wetness, coating them in your slick. his touch is faint, teasing, and it makes your hips buck toward him. “you want it that bad?”

“shut up,” you snap, but your voice betrays you, coming out more like a whimper than anything else. you’re aching, do-or-die, and every brush of his fingers is making you drip even more, the wet sounds stuffing the air.

jihoon grins, that smug look back on his face even though he’s scarcely holding himself together. “you’re so fucking cute when you’re this needy,” he whispers, his fingers sliding down to your entrance. “can’t get enough of me? hm?”

before you can snap back, his fingers slip inside, and you let out a choked gasp, your whole body jolting at the sudden stretch. you’re so wet that he slides in easily, makes your vision blur.

“ji…” you moan, your hips rocking against his hand, you’re so fucking turned on that you can barely think straight, the sensitiveness making you feel like only the intrusion of his fingers, could make you cum already. “don’t stop…”

he doesn’t, his fingers picking up the pace, curling deeper inside you while his palm presses against your clit, rubbing small circles that make your thighs tremble.

“you’re dripping all over me,” jihoon mutters, his voice strained as he watches you break. “so fucking messy, baby.”

“’s ‘cause of you…” you gasp, your fingers gripping the sheets as your hips grind down on his hand, chasing that high.

“damn right it is,” he whispers, his palm pressing harder against your clit, and your orgasm slams over you, you let out a loud moan, your vision going white for a moment as you ride out the high, your hips jerking against jihoon’s hand.

he doesn’t stop, even as your walls clench around his fingers, even as your body trembles uncontrollably. he keeps rubbing, working you through it, pushing you further until you’re practically sobbing from how good it feels.

“fuck, jihoon… s’too much…” you manage to choke out, but he just grins, slowing down just enough to keep you on the edge, but not enough to let you fully come down.

“you can give me one more, right?” he asks, all soft and sweet like he’s innocent or something. as if he’s not knuckles deep inside you, fingers curling right against that spot that makes your thighs twitch like you’ve got no control over them.

“jihoon…” you gasp, breathless, trying to pull away, but he just follows you, his other hand gripping your hip like you’re not going anywhere. “fuck, i can’t—”

“nah, baby, you can,” he says. “you’re already this wet.” he pulls his fingers out just a little, dragging them through your slickness before pushing back in, making sure you feel every inch of it. “feels good, huh?”

you nod, unable to form any words that aren’t just pure nonsense moans, ‘cause damn, the way he’s fucking you with his fingers right now has your brain short-circuiting. he’s got this smug-ass look on his face too. “holy shit, jihoon…” you manage to choke out, voice all shaky, and you’re clenching around his fingers like crazy. “you’re—fuck, you’re gonna make me cum again.”

“that’s the plan,” he shoots back, his grin widening. “gotta make sure you’re all taken care of, right?”

you snort, even though you’re one breath away from losing it completely. “you sound like a fuckin’ customer service rep.”

he raises an eyebrow at you, that cocky grin still on his face. “and you’re the customer, baby. gotta give you the premium package.” he curls his fingers again, and your back arches so hard you almost see stars.

“oh my god,” you whine, and honestly, you don’t even care about talking shit anymore, ‘cause the pressure’s building again, and fast. your body’s on fire, every nerve buzzing as your clit throbb on his palm, the slickness starting to drip from his hand too, and jihoon’s relentless, like he knows exactly how far to push you before you completely lose it.

“yeah, there it is,” he mutters, watching the way your body’s reacting to him, like he’s enjoying the show. “good girl, just like that.”

his fingers pump faster, you can feel yourself tipping over the edge, your whole body tensing. it’s fucking intense, and you’re moaning so loud now, not even trying to keep it together, ‘cause he’s got you wrapped around his fingers—literally.

“shit, i’m cumming—” you barely get the words out before your body locks up, thighs shaking, toes curling, and your orgasm crashes over you. it’s so fucking good, the kind that makes your mind go completely blank, like nothing else matters except his fingers inside you, working you through it.

you’re practically sobbing his name, grabbing onto his wrist, but he doesn’t stop—again, just slows down a little, letting you ride the high. your legs are trembling so hard, it feels like you’re about to fall apart on him, and you can’t stop the shaky, breathless laugh that spills out of you.

“hey, don’t laugh at me, okay? i’m still recovering from you trying to turn me into a puddle.” you shove at his arm weakly, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm pulsing through you. “my brain’s not functioning.”

yeah, like u didn't have sucked the soul out of him.

“if that’s what you’re like after just my fingers, i wonder what you’ll be like when i actually fuck you.”

your breath catches, and suddenly you’re back to being all wound up again, heat pooling low in your stomach. “oh, fuck you,” you mutter, already feeling yourself get worked up again.

“not yet,” he grins, looking at his cock not even twitching, soft, soft. “but soon.”

[lilacxoz]

JJK Men when you want to hang out with friends!

(Gojo, Choso, Toji, Geto, Sukuna)

Warnings!!! Smut, creampie, derogatory remarks, possessiveness, power play, pet names(baby, ma), decryphilia, strong language.

No beta read. Expect errors.

minors DNI

GOJO SATORU - just 5 more minutes.

“Please don’t go.” He’s almost begging. It was pathetic, yet you your hips met his every thrust. He held his thick heavy arm around your waist, pulling you closer, deeper, onto his angry cock.

“-toru, they’re waiting-“ he slams his lips to yours. He didn’t care that your friends were waiting downstairs. He needed you, his hips clashing with yours.

The sound was lewd, the slap of your hips with his, the squelch of his dick disappearing so deep inside of you.

He pulled away from your lips, his eyes practically glowing with the lust hidden behind them. He was a mess, his white cloudy hair stuck to his sweaty face.

“Just fi-five more minutes. Just f’me,” he breathes out, every thrust pushing you closer and closer to the wooden door separating you from the hallway of your apartment.

Your hand reached down quickly to his wrist, his tip abusing your cervix with his deep thrusts. “Baby, don’t stop!” You cry out, the fear of getting caught nothing but an after thought. And how could you? Gojo’s dick so deep inside of you.

Your jaw fell slack as his hips snapped against yours, a painful pleasure that makes your mind foggy. His hand held your silky dress up to your waist, crystal blue eyes drinking in the sight of his dick go in and out. His thrusts so fast and brutal, like a piston broken from the case.

But it wasn’t enough, his brows furrowed as his veins popped out of his arms. He couldn’t get a enough, needed more and more of you. As if he was starved of you, high out of his mind.

“-Toru, s’too fast!” You cry out, face smushed against the now damp wood. Drool slid from your lips, eyes rolled back and your makeup running down your face. It was disgustingly perfect. The way you were just as drunk as he was off the climb to your highs.

Only you were closer, clenching oh so tight around his pulsating cock. “Yeah- fuck! baby’s gonna cum, do it. Mph! Cum f’me.” And the way you gripped him made his release an embarrassingly high pitched whine, head falling back as his hips dug into you.

He chased after you, using his arm to help clash your hips with his at a bruising speed. His lips parted as he whined out a mix of your name and ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’s.

You bit down on your lip, still sensitive as he poured load after load of his thick ropes, drooling down the length of him. He was mesmerized, slowly riding out his high as he watched that creamy ring form around the base of him.

“Baby, hah, the girls are waiting-“ he grabbed you deeper into the apartment, keeping you still connected.

“Ju-Just, five more minutes. Just f’me, all f’me.”

CHOSO KAMO- dressed like that?

Choso was quiet, the kind of person most felt intimidated by. He had this quality about him, made him unapproachable. That never affected you though. Until you were on the receiving end of his intimidation.

He had his fingers deep inside you mouth, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror above the sink. “Just look at ya, hah, so slutty, fuck!” His dick was so deep inside of you, your black tights ripped in a threaded mess.

He was absolutely feral, eyes drinking in the sight of your face in the mirror. How dare you expect to get away with wearing such a small skirt, and your tits poking out? You were just asking for it.

“Baby, ah! Im just going to, ngh! have dinner with Nob-“ you couldn’t finish, fingers pushing deeper and deeper past your lips. Your tongue dancing across his digits.

“Only I get to see you like this.” His hips smashed against yours, “don’t forget that.”

You felt delirious, your brain a mush of emotions. Yet all you could think about was the way his tip was crushing, no, bruising your cervix.

“Ah~ never, yeah- never let me go out,” you cry, your mascara running down your damp cheeks. He knew you were right, yet he didn’t give a shit. He’d crawl to the end of the earth for you, just to bring you back down to the hell he lived in.

“You’re mine, you go out with me.” He purred, his hips snapping back against yours in one more delicious thrust. It made you see stars, your lips parted as you sucked in a shaky breath.

“Cho- yeah yeah yeah, don’t stop, please!” You cry out, thighs shaking as his thrusts only slow down.

He knows you’re breaking beneath him, fingers only plunging deeper down your throat. The tiny bathroom mixed with his heavy breaths and and your gags. He loves it, relishes in it.

“Throw it back on me,” he groans, a gutteral deep groan. He lets out shaky breaths, his hand on on your hip tightening. It hurt, his nails forming crescents on your skin.

You did as he asks, your thighs burning as you desperately crawled to your high. “Lemme cum, baby please! Ah! Lemme- FUCK!”

Tears burn your eyes as, Choso practically growling at the way you tighten around him. He’s done playing, you’ve learned your lesson.

He slips his fingers from your mouth, lazily bringing them down to your clit. Your body goes limp against the cool stone sink, crying out his name deliriously.

His pace was inhumane, letting out a high-pitched scream with each thrust. It was too much, your body spasming as you landed face first from your high. And Choso was right behind you.

Ropes and ropes of hot cum painted your insides, your jaw falling slack as his seed disgustingly slid down his balls and the insides of your thighs.

“All. Mine.” Choso said between each thrust, fucking his cum oh so deep inside of you. Deep enough to make you forget about your dinner with the girls.

TOJI FUSHIGURO - so pretty f‘me, ma.

Toji May not like how dedicated you are to doing your makeup and hair before going out with friends. But he knew you deserved a night out away from the brats. But he couldn’t let you leave without showing you how much you deserved it.

He let out a guttural moan, large hand on the small of your back as it arched deep into the sheets. “So pretty f’me, ma.” He just couldn’t stand it, the bounce of your ass against his base. Taking in every single thick inch of him.

Your teeth dug into the pillow below you, lipstick stained to the white sheets. You had to be quiet, afraid to wake up the sleeping kids he managed to put to sleep.

“Quiet ma, just, yeah, put those brats to sleep~” he purred. But you couldn’t help it, drunk on his dick as he shoved so deep inside, painfully delicious.

"Toji- fuck, the girls will be here, ah! so-soon," you mewled out into the white pillow. Toji shushed you, his thrusts slow yet so fucking powerful. each thrust digging you deeper, deeper, deeper into the bed.

"I'll be quick ma," he groaned, digging his face into the crook of your neck. your eyes fell back as he sunk his teeth into your skin, lips parting at the pain it delivered.

He was drunk on your pussy, the way it was so tight around his angry dick, shoving it oh so deep into your syrupy mess. it was enough to make you cry out, not caring if the kids heard you.

"Shhh," he shoved your face deeper into the pillow. your hands desperately found purchase in the sheets, thighs shaking as your orgasm approaches so quickly. it was almost embarrassing how whiney you were, but it turned Toji on so much. he couldn't get enough.

"cum on this dick baby," he let out a grunt with each powerful thrust. your head wobbling against the fabric headboard with each snap of his hips, crying into the pillow as you fell so hard into your orgasm.

he winced, you were so fuckin' tight. milking him, he didn't think he'd have the heart to pull out. "keep squeezin' ma, put, fuck, another brat in-into you." he was losing his mind at this point, hips slapping against your ass so hard it was bruising.

he found the willpower to pull out, shooting hot sticky cum all over your ass. he let out deep and throaty moans at the sight, using his tip to make a mess of it over the fatness of your ass and hips.

"oh so pretty f'me, ma."

GETO SUGURU - back that ass up.

Geto was addicted to you. But when he came home from a long day of working with monkeys only to find you all dressed up for the club. He just had to get his taste.

“Back that ass up,” he purred deep into your ear, his tip just kissing your entrance as he held your back against his chest. Waiting so patiently for you to sit on it.

"I've gotta gooo," you softly plead, making half-hearted attempts to leave. Geto knew you weren't sincere, his tip glistening with the mixture of his pre-cum and your sticky wetness. he was reveling in it.

his hands pull you closer by the tight fabric of your dress, your panties nothing but a pool at your feet. he brought his lips against your ear, brushing them against the soft shell. he needed you, needed you so bad.

"C'mon baby, just a quickie before you leave," he purred. you looked back at him, his cheeks flushed as his eyes were glued to the connection between you. As much as you didn't want to be late, the look in his eyes was enough to egg you on.

you slid down on him, oh so slowly. he gritted his teeth, so tight as if he'd ground his teeth to a fine powder. his head fell back as you ever so slowly bounced on his dick.

he softly moaned your name, cupping the fat of your hip. he loved when you sat on him, your perfect figure, eyes following each curve of your ass and waist. he just couldn't. get. enough.

the bed groaned under your combined weights, his teeth capturing his bottom lip as he lost himself. he was so pussy whipped, the only thing on his mind is how deep he was inside of you.

he reached a hand around, a handful of your stomach. he was obsessed with you, your body, your mind, and especially your needy pussy.

"fu-fuck girl, pussy soooo hungry," he groaned, his hips moving with yours. he watched your ass bounce and ripple, sucking him to the fucking base. milking him of everything he had.

"ngh~ yeah! gonna need yo-your card tonight, ah!" you whined, his tip just kissing your cervix.

Geto groaned, holding you still in his hands before he started to ruthlessly fuck into you. he'd give you what you wanted, but first, he needed to cum inside of you. and with how pent-up he'd been lately, he wasn't far from it.

you cupped your hand over your mouth, your moans and begs uncontrollable as he elicited your climax. and it came quick, eyes rolling back as he fucked wave after wave of pleasure into you.

you were squeezing him so tight, his moans turned whiny and pitchy as his thighs burned. years of training led him to this fucking moment, fucking into you as if his life depended on it.

"yeah, fuck fuck fuck!" he whimpered. "gonna fill this pretty pussy so good," he groaned. and as if the straw that broke the camel's back, the look you gave him, eyes half-lidded and lips parted had him falling-diving into his orgasm.

he held you close as he came down from his high. and then you felt the coolness of his debit card slide onto your thigh, seeing those familiar digits making you smirk.

RYOMEN SUKUNA - take it off.

Sukuna was the king of curses. He always got his way, and was the strongest among most. Except the last part didn’t apply to you.

He was pissed that a mortal such as you even dared to step out of the closet in such a slutty dress. Your tits falling perfectly against your chest, your fat hips so tight along the thin silky fabric of your dress.

He hated women for their seductive power. Yet right now, he loved the way you had him wrapped around your finger. He’d never admit it, not even to himself, but he loved how easily you riled him up.

“Take it off, woman.” He demanded, voice deeper then usual. Your pink slips formed a smirk as you shook your head. Your mistake.

Now your face was smooshed against his silky aubergine sheets, crying-no, begging him to slow down. Begging for his mercy.

his tongue fucked in and out of you so fast and quick, lips trembling as you struggled to even form coherent words. stupid women, he thought, thinking you could do whatever you wanted.

his nails dug into the soft flesh of your ass, blood soaking his fingers as he spread your ass apart. but you didn't care about the pain, you needed him to bring you to that finish line.

"Kuna!" you moaned, voice bouncing off the walls to his chambers. Perhaps a servant could hear the disgusting moans slipping from your pretty pink lips, perfect. he wanted the whole damn world to know how defenseless you were to him. how obedient you were.

"louder, women. let the world know you have no power against me," he groaned. the truth was, Sukuna was the one powerless, so drunk and delirious off of your pussy. it was almost sinful, the way he ate you out as if you were his death row meal. and maybe you were, with how many civilians he killed on a daily.

you fisted his silky sheets below you, crying out his name to slow down. your knees were weak with how white hot cold flashes sent your body over the edge. the overstimulation mixed with your orgasm caused you to moan so loud you could shatter glass.

Sukuna liked that. seeing you fall apart in his hands.

he slapped your ass as he drank your orgasm, pretty folds drenching his lips and chin in your arousal.

he managed to pull away, flipping you onto your back. he stood to his full height, letting his robes fall down his body to reveal his two angry thick cocks, begging for you.

"I'll show you, mortal woman, you are powerless against me in that slutty clothing."

[pellucid-constellations]

To Feel At Home

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Winnowing out from Under the Mountain, you know you need to find him—it doesn't seem real, to feel so at home.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Angst

a/n: A little angsty piece because I can't stop writing for some reason. I hope you enjoy :)

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

On shaking legs, you pressed forward. Rhysand was still at the Moonstone Palace—still in Mor’s arms and coping with the impossible. You had made to stay, but Mor had given you a shake of her head that conveyed more than any words could have.

Mustering up the morsel of power that had returned to you after Amarantha’s death, you winnowed to Velaris. 

Not in a good spot. You hadn’t had access to your power in over five decades and much of Rhysand’s wards were still in place. Given the circumstances, getting yourself to some random alley at the edge of Velaris was a feat. 

The sun was blinding, invading your senses that had gotten so used to the darkness Under the Mountain. You brought a hand up to cover your eyes and trekked on.

No more winnowing. 

You had tried—it hadn’t worked. 

As you walked, stumbling through families taking strolls and having normal days, you searched within you for that golden thread. It had been absent for longer than it had been alive, your time as mates barely reaching a decade before your disappearance. 

You sifted through the pain and grief and loneliness, desperate for the relief you would find once you felt the weight of him. 

Nothing yet. 

He had to know things had changed Under the Mountain. Even amidst the secrecy and the hiding, you knew he would check.  His shadows would cross continents to find you. 

But—you stressed, as you made it to a main road lined with cobblestones—that could mean he went there. Azriel could be under that mountain at this very moment, searching through the fae still sorting out their lives before they went home. 

And you were here. 

You had no reason to panic. 

You were home, safe, alive; you had more reason to feel at peace than you had in the last 50 years. But if Azriel wasn’t here… 

Your breath came out in short pants as your fingers found purchase on a wall. But you kept going, kept watching your feet as they stumbled past each other, just to have the chance of seeing him. 

There were no shadows yet. 

They always found you first. 

You weren't sure how much time had passed—seconds, minutes, hours all lost their meaning under Amarantha—but the shadow of the mountain that held your home was soon cast over your body. You gasped out uneven breaths and pressed a hand to the towering figure, to the entrance that held the ten thousand steps you had every intention of climbing. 

Your body would surely fail. 

The last five decades had not been kind. 

With a determination fueled solely by desperation and hope, you began the tunneled pathway to the harrowing climb, but then you stopped at the entryway. 

A broken rendition of your name met your ears, so cracked and ruined you could have passed it off for something else. 

But you knew that voice, the way the vowels flowed and connected. 

Another broken sound permeated the air, this time from your own lips. 

You couldn’t look. You wanted to, ached to, but you couldn’t. So much anticipation led up to this moment. And you were different now, a fraction of the person you had been all those years ago. 

“Y/n, my love, look at me,” Azriel begged, the lowest you’d ever heard him speak. But you hadn’t heard him speak in so long, so perhaps you were misremembering. “Please.” 

You couldn’t. 

Moving was impossible. 

Your legs began to shake at the sound of footsteps, and then your knees gave out. 

A loud sound vibrated against the tunnel walls as your hands slapped against the floor. On the ground, steps away from the only person who could fix this, your waterline filled with tears. 

But you didn’t have time to second-guess or run or wonder if this was all too much. You were gathered into a strong pair of arms, pressed into a firm chest that smelled like home, and tears made paths down your cheeks. They flowed in damp trails in silence, Azriel holding you closer and closer until you weren’t sure space existed between you. 

His nose pressed into your hair. 

His chest rose and fell in uneven patterns. 

More silence. You felt your body begin to rock gently back and forth. 

This wasn’t real—it couldn’t be. 

You had resigned yourself to never seeing him again many years ago. Even as you ran through the streets of Velaris without your breath or your reasonable mind, you hadn’t expected to find him. This was a dream, Azriel wasn’t here, it was only a cruel play on your mind. 

Someone was trying to hurt you, and it was working. 

Maybe Amarantha had finally gotten Rhys to crack. 

Maybe this was his doing, his manipulation of your deepest hopes. 

Something was moving against your ear, soft and rushed and incoherent. A hand smoothed back your hair. You kept rocking. 

“You’re okay.” Words filtered through ringing. “You’re okay. You’re okay. I’m here.” 

Over and over. On a loop. 

Something encased you. Darkness followed—you were used to darkness. 

The pattern of the words lulled your heart back to a normal rate. Tears continued to fall. Your breath was shaky. 

“I love you so much,” Azriel broke the repetition, shocking your system. “I love you. I love you—” 

A sob wracked your body, the first real sound to leave your mouth. Azriel shushed you in response, but when he buried his face in your neck you felt the wetness of his own cheeks. 

This had to be real, it had to. There was no other alternative. You wouldn't survive feeling this way just to be thrust back into that nightmare. 

It had to be real, it had to—

“It is,” Azriel choked out. He pulled back, your face in his hands, his expression conveying a picture of pain and love and disbelief. “It’s real, angel. Gods, you’re so beautiful. I never thought I’d—” Words cut off and restarted. “I tried so hard to get to you.” 

His forehead met yours. 

This was real. 

You felt the shadows wisp along your skin. 

You could never feel them in dreams. 

“I missed you,” you croaked, voice so unused to the words. “So much.” 

Azriel squeezed his eyes shut only to open them after not even a breath. Desperate not to lose sight of you. Anguished at the thought of missing the picture of you in his arms. 

“I’ve missed you more.”

[rowarn]

cw: dubcon if u squint, mean!simon, cum play?, teasing and punishment <3

sorry i haven't been posting proper works lately, i just haven't had any motivation in sitting down long term to write ): i hope u can understand <3 but here's something i cooked up a bit!!!

You, who just had to get on his nerves. You just had to mouth off at him every chance you got. His patience was a thin thread and you were snipping at it around every turn.

He’d been gone for so long, he was exhausted and worn to the bone. He just wanted some peace and quiet, some time to himself to wind down. 

But you were so damn needy for him, pawing at him the second you could get your greedy little hands on him. He was so tired that he simply couldn’t even fathom the idea of getting hard. 

But in the face of your whimpering, the feeling of your soft tits pressed against him as you gripped his cock through his sweats, he could feel himself chubbing up despite it all.

You knew how tired he was. You knew he just wanted to rest and decompress. Yet there you were, tugging his cock from his sweats, stroking him languidly like he was your own personal little toy. 

And for some reason that just set him off. 

Before you knew it, you were pinned face down on the couch, your panties stretched around your thighs. 

“Please, Simon,” you pant, voice pitchy and broken from how utterly needy you were. 

He thought you were so cute, begging him like you hadn’t gotten on his one good nerve the second he walked through the door.

Just to tease you, to be mean because you deserved it for being such a damned brat, he pressed the tip of his leaking cock against your pretty little hole. He felt you clench, eager to suck all of him in. You wanted to be filled so badly, precious cunt drooling slick down to the couch in sticky strings at the mere idea of getting stuffed nice and full by your boyfriend’s perfect cock. 

He tapped the head against your clit, the little bud stiff and neglected. The stimulation made you tremble, a sweet moan escaping your lips from how good the fleeting pleasure felt. 

With you distracted by the teasing, Simon quickly began to jerk himself off, using the sweet, wet heat of your cunt to edge him to a quick release. It had been weeks since he’d gotten off, so it was easy for him to find that euphoria with your pretty little ass perked up just for him, ready and willing to be used - something you weren't even going to get.

That thought alone had him cumming with a soft gasp, making sure to aim it right at the crotch of your panties, spilling his load in the pretty, purple cotton stretched around your thighs. 

“S-Simon?” you asked, already sounding on the verge to tears as you listened to cum without you. 

“There you go, love,” he grunts, lazily tugging your messy panties up. 

You whined when his cum smeared all over your cunt, mixing with your creamy juices. The cotton soaked up the liquids and plastered itself to your folds, giving him the perfect view. 

Meanly, he patted your cunt before tucking his cock away and climbing off of the couch with a grunt. You flopped onto your side, tearily watching as he made a show of stretching and yawning.

“Really needed that, sweetheart,” he grinned, “I want you to keep my cum nice and warm in your panties while I go have a nap. Think I’ve earned one. And maybe when I’m back, you’ll stop bein’ such a damned brat and I’ll give you what you want, yeah?”

[keferon]

I just saw the post about Jazz not taking care of himself and all that, and with the doodle provided on that, i for some reason, have the mental imagine of Prowl now just holding Jazz on one hand while the tiny human sleeps there, and he's just working on whatever it is that he needs to work on with one hand

Because he got scared and now does not want to let go until he's sure he's ok.

There is no context, i just saw Prowl holding tiny Jazz and now my brain itches for more of that i guess.

THO SPEAKING OF WHICH (please excuse the rambling), but like when Prowl first finds out about Jazz actually not being a mech and just this tiny soft squishy human, who, in tfp Ratchet's words, can go squish under their pedes like, now constantly panics about Jazz possibly being hurt

And under no circumstances allows him to walk on the floors in fear he might, in fact, go squish. So everytime he leaves his suit Prowl has him sit by on the tabls or straight out just carries him (bring out that meme of Finn having a pocket for Jake)

Idk, the amount of funny scenarios of Prowl having to learn about how to be careful around a human is endless and i love it, and dammit your au has been stuck in my head i can't stop looking at content for it, it's making me go insane!!

Oh and to hopefully finish my rambling off, but add huamn adrenaline to the mix. Jazz getting severally hurt, but the adrenaline keeps him kicking for a bit longer, like bleeding out and a broken arm but he pushes through as if it were nothing....until they are out of danger and the pain kicks in. Prowl is none the wiser to his partner's injuries until the mecha suit starts to tweak as Jazz starts to let out pained screams, or small gasps of pain depending how much hurt you want him to be in, and then he pops out the chest compartment to reveal how much actual damage he took.

Ok this was supposed be a small "haha Prowl holding a sleeping Jazz" and it turned in to a full on yap session about very different ideas, hope you dont mind ^^;;

Just really love your au man...

YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ACTUALLY PREDICTED THE THING I WAS PLANNING TO INCLUDE IN MY THREAD :D

Like. Y E AH. Think of it. Fuckinb imaginb. Jazz falling asleep right where he was standing and Prowl is like. Okay I need to find some safe place to put this tiny guy because I don’t want him to get squashed right?? But he doesn’t really have a lot of options so he ends up just sitting and reading something from his datapad with one hand. And holding Jazz in the other. And it works perfectly because Jazz is small enough to fit in Prowls palm.

ALSO. A L S O

I imagine Jazz has magnets in the gloves of his suit. So! Not only Prowl can carry him around but also Jazz can just stick himself to Prowls plates haha

Prowl: Where tf are you

Jazz, crawling on Prowls back: I’m Spider man

Another Cybertonians react to this the same way people do when they see a spider on someone’s shoulder btw~

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 11 (The End)

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible. Racism against Illyrians/Lesser Faes?

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

I could write more, but quite frankly, I think I would kinda drag it out and the first major arc is tied up with a neat little bow! There are definitely be threads left dangling for me to pick up whenever I want to write more about Sky and Azriel, but I think around 50k is a good place to stop for now ❤️

Even the Spymaster of the Night Court paid taxes.

That was the only reason why Rhysand even found out where exactly Azriel‘s home even was.

Azriel’s home was in the outskirts of Velaris, near the mountains. A little lake cabin. Rhys hadn’t even known that Azriel owned it but apparently he did.

Rhys shouldn’t go there. He knew that.

Rhys should be giving his brother space. That was probably the least he owed him. But he couldn't stop himself. He needed to know Azriel was alright. That he was happy.

Rhys needed to apologise. He needed to make amends…

And Azriel was ignoring him. Mental shields as shored up as they ever had been, shoving back at Rhys at every opportunity…

He had never seen Azriel's mental shields like this before, and it concerned him. He knew Azriel was angry at him, had ever right to be angry,  but Rhys hadn't expected his brother to shut him out so completely.

Reports were still arriving on his desk punctually as always. But Azriel seemed utterly uninterested in actually talking to Rhys. 

It was a small comfort, knowing that Azriel was still working, but Rhysand couldn’t shake off the feeling of guilt that had settled deep in his gut. He knew that he had hurt Azriel deeply, and he couldn’t blame his brother for shutting him out.

Rhys wished he could turn back time and fix things, but he had messed up terribly. He knew he had to give Azriel space, but the silence between them was deafening . It was a constant reminder of just how much damage he had caused.

As the days went on, Rhysand found himself consumed by thoughts of what he could have done…should have done… He tried reaching out to Azriel mentally, only to be rebuffed each time. 

Cassian showed up alone for debriefings and if Rhys showed up at the House of Wind for Valkyrie Training, Azriel was nowhere to be seen. 

So finally…Rhys had enough. So he showed up at that house. 

It was a nice house too, a secluded cabin at a mountain lake. Rhys knew that he wasn’t welcome, not after everything that had passed between them, but he had to see Azriel. 

Rhys raised a hand, knocking gently on the door. He could hear the faint sound of movement inside. Rhysand sighed. He should leave. He knew he should leave. But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

And then suddenly, to his surprise…the door opened. 

“…C…Can I….can I h…help you?“

She was brown haired and short… with deep blue eyes and freckles smattering over her nose.

Rhysand looked at the woman in front of him, taken aback by her appearance. He didn't know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't a small, curvy, freckled brunette.

"I, uh..." Rhysand stammered, his mind blanking. "I was looking for Azriel." he finally brought out. 

The small female studied him carefully, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Az…Azriel's n…not h…here," she stuttered.

Rhysand's heart sank, but he tried not to let it show. "Do you know where he is?" he asked, desperate for any information.

The female hesitated, biting her lip slightly. She seemed to be contemplating her answer, her brow furrowing in thought. After a moment, she finally looked back up at him, her expression unreadable. "He…He's...o…out f…for t…the d…day," she said finally, not giving him anymore than that.

Rhysand tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, but it was difficult. He was so close to his brother, and yet so far away. "Do you know when he'll be back?" he asked sharply.

She nearly flinched away from him at that tone of voice.

He opened his mouth to apologise, but he didn't even get to that. Because some thing with wickedly sharp claws, launched itself at his head with a hissing sound.

Rhysand yelped as the mysterious creature swiped at his face, growling all the while.

"HECTOR NO!" The female shrieked.

Rhysand stumbled backwards, trying to dodge the sharp claws.

Just at that moment, he felt more than he heard his brother's arrival.

Azriel materialized between them with a loud flapping of wings, his siphons blazing. He stood protectively in front of the small female, his expression murderous.

"Hector to me," he snapped. The thing, a cat ...an incredible ugly , murderous looking cat let off Rhys with another growl and slunk back to Azriel's side, heeling like a dog. The woman quickly scooped him up in her arms.

Cassian's laughter washed over him, at that moment, as Rhys was still laying on the ground, bested by a cat .

"Taking down by a cat now, Rhysie?" Cassian asked him with a snort, offering him his hand to gain his feet.

Rhys already knew that he was never going to live this down.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Azriel hissed, his voice filled with anger. His wings were spread wide, and Rhysand could see the barely contained ferocity beneath his brother's cold facade.

Rhysand winced at Azriel's harsh tone. He knew he had messed up, and he didn't blame his brother for being angry with him. "I just wanted to see you," he said, feeling small under Azriel's penetrating glare.

Azriel's expression didn't soften at his words. "You had no right," he said sharply. "You can't just show up here unannounced, Rhysand. This is my home, and you're not welcome here. You terrified Sky!"

Sky. Sky. That was the name of his brother's mate...of the pretty brunette that was standing behind him, fussing over her murderous cat.

Rhysand glanced over at Sky guiltily. "I...I'm sorry," he said to her. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Sky hesitated, before nodding stiffly. Her face remained guarded, her arms still wrapped protectively around the mangy cat. Rhysand couldn't help but notice how small she looked compared to Azriel's imposing form…and the absolute massive cat. 

"I am sorry," he turned to his brother, swallowing. The apology wasn't enough. he knew that. And it wasn't going to fix the fact that Azriel didn't trust him anymore or... *Az. Please.*

"How did you find this house?" Azriel demanded.

"I checked the tax reports," Rhys admitted with a grimace.

Azriel's expression darkened even further, and Rhys braced himself for a reprimand. Instead, his brother let out a harsh, bitter chuckle. "Of course you did," he said flatly. "Just can't stay out of my business, can you?"

Rhysand felt a pang in his chest at the hostility in Azriel's voice. He knew he deserved every ounce of resentment his brother felt, but it still hurt deep to hear it out loud. "I...I was worried about you," he said lamely.”I just needed to see you." he added. "To apologise."

"You don't even realise the lines you keep crossing, do you?" Cassian asked him flatly. "Ever thought about the fact that maybe you should have waited until Azriel was ready to hear you out?

Rhysand winced. Cassian's words struck a nerve, and he knew his friend was right. He had been rash and insensitive in coming here unannounced. "I...I wasn't thinking," he admitted softly.

Cassian shook his head, his expression still stern. "That's the problem, Rhys," he said bluntly. "You never seem to think these days. It's like you're so caught up in your own head that you don't consider how your actions affect those around you."

Rhysand's gaze dropped, shame washing over him. Cassian's words pierced straight through him, and he struggled to find a response. He knew he had been making mistakes, but hearing them laid out so bluntly still stung.

"What do you want?" Azriel asked him flatly. "Why did you come here?"

"I wanted to apologise," Rhys said weakly. "I...fucked up. I know that. I want to...fix things."

Azriel's face remained impassive, his eyes hard. "You can't just fix things with an apology, Rhys," He said curtly. "You crossed more than one line, and you shattered my trust. Do you really think saying sorry is enough?"

"Az," his mate said softly, her voice quiet. "H..He's blee..bleeding all over our front lawn after my cat at..attacked him. At least let him sit down and give him a healing salve…"

Azriel turned to look at his mate, his anger softening ever so slightly at the concern in her voice. He let out a heavy sigh, before nodding stiffly. "Fine," he said gruffly. "But no more than that."

Rhysand nodded gratefully, relieved that Azriel was willing to let him in, even if only slightly. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I...I really am sorry."

Azriel didn't respond, turning away from him and herded Sky and the murder cat into the house. Rhysand watched him go, feeling a pang of sadness. It was clear that his brother's anger was far from abated, and he knew it would take a lot more than just an apology to mend their fractured relationship.

"Come on," Cassian prodded him up.

The first thing that Rhys realised about the house Azriel shared with his mate was that it was absolutely stuffed full with books. The second was, that Azriel clearly doted on the Murder Cat that got a crystal dish with tuna on it put on the floor before Azriel even went in the direction of the healing salve, which he slapped down on the table in front of Rhysand. .

"I…I am so…sorry," Sky apologised to Rhys, bright blue eyes apologetic. "H…Hector has nev…never done anything like that before, I swear."

Yeah, somehow he doubted that. But he also doubted that it was going to help his relationship with Azriel if he was going to annoy his mate about her beastly cat. The thing had a worse personality than Amren . 

"Don't worry about it," he said, with what he hoped he was a gracious smile. "I think your cat and I just got off on the wrong foot." He looked over at the cat, who was now happily devouring the tuna as if it hadn't just tried to claw his face off.

"Good Boy, Hector," Azriel said warmly.

Rhysand could just stare.

Azriel, the feared Spymaster of the Night Court, was cooing at a mangy cat like a proud parent. He never would have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

"Who knew the Spymaster had a soft spot for cats," Rhysand remarked with a faint smile. Azriel shot him a warning glare, but the sternness was lost at the tender way he was petting the cat. "I am really sorry," Rhys apologised again.

"You said so. Numerous times," Azriel shot back.

Rhysand sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He knew Azriel was still angry with him, but it was hard not to feel the guilt weighing down on him. "I know," he said softly. "But I want you to know that I mean it. I am sorry, Azriel. For everything."

Azriel's expression remained impassive, but Rhysand could see the flicker of sadness in his eyes. He knew his brother was struggling to forgive him, but he hoped that with time, Azriel would be able to find it in his heart to do so.

"I just want to make things right," Rhysand said earnestly. "I miss you, Az. I miss my brother."

"You'll need to decide one of those days," Azriel said sharply. "Am I your soldier or am I your brother?"

Rhysand flinched at the words, feeling the weight of the accusation hit him hard. 

He had always tried to balance his role as High Lord with his relationship with his brothers, but he knew that…that he hadn’t been fair to Azriel for a long time. "You're right," he conceded quietly. "I have been treating you like my soldier instead of my brother, and that's not fair to you."

"You have been treating him absolutely deplorably," Cassian cut him off.

Rhysand hung his head, feeling the weight of his mistakes settling heavy on his shoulders. "I know," he said quietly. "I've been so caught up in my own problems and responsibilities as High Lord that I lost sight of what really matters. And I've hurt Azriel because of it."

"And you stuck your nose in things that are none of your business," Cassian continued. "I get it that you are tired of fighting, Rhys, we all are, but you can't keep conflict out of our family by ordering Azriel to behave in the way you would like him to."

Rhysand winced, knowing Cassian was right. He had been trying to control things, to make sure everyone was safe and happy, but in the process, he had driven a wedge between himself and his brothers. "I...I know," he admitted reluctantly. "I was…I was stupid. I am tired of war. Of fighting. And I was just trying to protect him, but I went about it all wrong."

" Protect me?" Azriel asked him, his voice dripping with disdain. " Protect me from what ?"

Rhysand looked away, feeling the shame rise within him. He knew he had overstepped, and he knew that Azriel was angry with him. "The consequences that would have arisen," he said delicately. He didn't know what Azriel had told his mate...didn't know how much she knew, but she was watching him with an expression on his face, he couldn't quite place.

"Well, I am an adult, Rhysand," Azriel snapped. "I am perfectly capable of protecting myself."

Rhys knew that. He knew Azriel was more than capable of taking care of himself. But he still felt the need to protect him, to shield him from harm.

"I...I know that," Rhysand said quietly. "I just didn't want to see you get hurt." He glanced over at Azriel's mate, who was still watching him warily. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being evaluated, judged for his mistakes.

Azriel let out a dry chuckle. "Well, it's a little late for that, don't you think?" he said bitterly. "You've seen to that already." Rhysand winced at the accusation, knowing that he deserved every ounce of Azriel's anger.

"I know," he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I am sorry for that. I see now that it was the wrong way to go about it." He looked into his brother's dark eyes, pleading for understanding.

Azriel met his gaze, his expression softening ever so slightly. "Protecting me by making decisions for me is not protecting me, Rhysand," he said quietly. "It's...it's suffocating. It's demeaning."

Rhysand nodded, knowing that Azriel was right. He had been trying to control everything, trying to make sure that nothing went wrong, and he had lost sight of what was truly important. "I understand," he said quietly. "And I am sorry for making you feel that way. It was wrong of me."

Azriel studied him for a moment, before finally sighing. "Just...stop it," he said simply. "No more interfering in my personal life, no more giving me orders like I am one of your soldiers."

Rhysand let out a shaky breath, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "I promise," he said earnestly. "I won't do it again, Az. I...I'll respect your boundaries, and I'll never overstep again."

Azriel snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it,” he said gruffly. "And if you do...if you try to control me like that again, I swear Rhysand...it won't end well."

"You'll ha…have He…Hecctor to contend with," Sky said, her voice even.

Rhysand looked over at Hector, who had finished his tuna and was now licking his chops.  Rhys swallowed. "He does seem to be a force to be reckoned with," he said carefully.

Sky gave him a small, tight-lipped smile. "You could say t…that," she said, her tone neutral. Azriel snorted a laugh, shaking his head as he watched his mate. It was the first genuinely carefree sound Rhysand had heard from his brother…in a long time.

Despite the earlier tension, Rhysand found himself smiling too. There was something about the way Azriel looked at his mate, the way he looked...happy, that made Rhysand feel like maybe everything would be alright.

Hector chose that moment to let out a loud meow, his voice sounding like a rusty hinge in the otherwise quiet room. Azriel looked down at the cat, rolling his eyes. "Alright, alright, I'll get you your second helping, spoiled brat," he said, a hint of fondness in his voice.

Rhysand chuckled, feeling the tension that had been weighing him down lift just a little. Things between him and Azriel weren't repaired yet, they had a long way to go, but for the first time in a long while, he felt hopeful.

“They do say the pen is mi…mightier than a sword,” Sky said suddenly. “You treat Azriel like that again and you’ll see just how mighty my pen is.”

Rhysand's eyebrows shot up in surprise at Sky's unexpected threat. It was clear that she wasn't messing around, and Rhys couldn't help but admire her boldness. He glanced over at Azriel, who was trying to suppress a smile.

"I'll keep that in mind," Rhysand said, trying to hide his amusement. "Though I have to say, I can’t imagine a pen being as terrifying as Hector."

Cassian snorted. “Oh you have no idea,” he muttered

Rhysand's eyes widened in curiosity at Cassian's comment. What on earth did that mean? But before he could inquire further, Azriel's voice broke through.

"Don't worry about it," he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Let's just say that you don't want to get on Sky's bad side, especially when she has her writing instruments within reach."

"Duly noted," Rhysand said, nodding seriously. He had a feeling that Azriel's mate was not someone to be trifled with, regardless of how harmless she looked, and he had no intention of finding out first-hand just how mighty her pen truly was.

Hector, having finished his second helping of tuna, let out a satisfied meow before padding over to Sky and rubbing against her leg. She reached down and scratched him behind the ears, smiling as he purred contentedly.

Rhysand watched the scene. He had never seen Azriel so relaxed, so happy, and it made him realize just how badly he had missed his brother. It was a reminder that family was more important than anything, and that he needed to cherish the people he cared about.

“Seems like you aren’t Sky’s favourite,” Cassian drawled.

Azriel snorted. “Nah, I come a distant third behind Hector and the shadows.”

Rhys watched with a swallow as these shadows that he had seen torturing people came over to Sky and twined around her hands. Azriel's words were said in jest, but Rhysand could hear the fondness in his voice. It was clear that Azriel adored his mate, and that the shadows had taken a liking to her as well. Rhysand tried not to let the slight sting of jealousy show on his face.

As he watched, the shadows danced around Sky's fingers, like they were alive and had a mind of their own. Rhys had seen the shadows in action, had seen how Azriel used them to fight and spy, but he had never seen them act this way before. There was a tenderness in the way they twined around Sky that was almost...beautiful.

Rhys turned to Azriel, who was watching his mate with a soft expression on his face. "They seem to like her," he commented, keeping his voice neutral.

"That's an understatement," Azriel said drily. "They're obsessed with her. They won't leave her alone."

Rhysand could see that clearly, but what surprised him more was how comfortable Sky seemed with them. She wasn't scared or even bothered by their presence...

It did make sense he supposed. The shadows were Azriel's weapon, his most trusted companions...that they would like his mate.

Rhysand watched as Sky looked up from where the shadows were wrapping around her fingers, a faint smile on her face. She seemed completely at ease with the strange entities, as if they were just another part of Azriel that she had accepted and embraced.

And it was also a sharp reminder of how much trust Rhys had destroyed through his actions. It was very clear who Azriel preferred, who he trusted more. Who he gravitated towards. Who even his shadows doted on, these strange, creatures that Rhys was quite sure would stop at nothing to keep their master safe.

The realization stung, but Rhys knew he had no one to blame but himself. He had caused this rift between them, he had pushed Azriel away, and now he was paying the price for it. But he was determined to make it right, no matter how long it took.

As he watched Azriel gently brush away a stray strand of hair from Sky's face, Rhys made a silent vow. He would do whatever it took to repair their broken bond, to regain Azriel's trust and respect. No matter how hard it was, no matter how long it took, he would make things right.

***

"You want to talk about it?" Sky asked him quietly, after Cassian ad Rhys had gone. 

She was fine now. Content. No more pulling at the mating bond so harshly and pushing all her fear at him. It had shaved at least a century of his life, to feel that from her when Casisan and him had been sparring and he knew that she was supposed to be safe at home.

He had expected near everything…but he hadn’t expected to arrive to the view of Hector scratching Rhys’s face with all his might. 

Azriel took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day's events bearing down on him. He wasn't sure if he was ready to put his tangled emotions into words yet, but he also knew that he couldn't keep it all bottled up inside.

"Rhys gave me some orders that I didn't agree with," he said drily. "Stuck his nose in things that he had no business to interfere with. He treated me...treated me like my feelings didn't matter. That I didn't matter....It took a really bad fight on Solstice for this apology to occur," he said with a grimace.

"You don't think he means it?" Sky asked him curiously, turning to look at him.

"No, he does mean it," Azriel said with a sigh. He did believe that. “He wants to fix things. to rebuild trust...And I do want that too. Regardless of how much of an asshole he can be on occasion he is still my brother ."

Sky was quiet for a long moment, watching him intently. Azriel felt the weight of her gaze, knowing that she was analyzing the situation, trying to understand what he was feeling. Finally, she spoke.

"You're worried that he'll disappoint you again," she said softly. "That he'll make promises that he can't keep. That he'll go back on his word and hurt you worse than before."

Azriel's throat felt tight. The words hit him hard, because Sky had put a voice to his deepest fears. "Yes," he admitted. "That'sexactly what I'm afraid of. I want to believe him, I do."

But it was hard to trust Rhys right ow. Especially with Sky. Trusting Rhys with the most important, the most precious part of his life...

"I can loan you Hector whenever he pisses you off again," Sky offered him seriously, and Azriel couldn't help but laugh.

"Thanks," he said with a small smile. "I might just take you up on that." He pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair. The scent of caramel and hazelnuts enveloped him, calming his racing thoughts and easing the tension in his shoulders.

"I love you, he whispered into her skin and she hummed. "Regardless of what happens, you  have me," Sky promised him. "I'll be behind you, every step of the way. regardless of whatever you decide."

Those words were like a balm to Azriel's soul. The fear and doubt that had been plaguing him since Rhysand's unexpected visit receded, replaced by a sense of safety and certainty. He held onto Sky tightly.

"I love you too," she murmured, the words barely audible even in the still apartment.

They stayed like that for a long moment, simply holding onto each other.

*I don't think I ever thanked you.* he told the shadows softly as he held his mate in his arms.

The shadows fluttered around him, wrapping around his arms and shoulders like a comforting embrace. They didn't say anything, but Azriel could feel their response. They had been with him through thick and thin, protecting him, guiding him, and never once asking for a word of thanks. And yet, he knew that they understood his gratitude, that they could feel it…

*Thank you for finding her.*

[maskedbyghost]

you and simon had an argument, using words sharper than either of you meant them to be. it starts small—something stupid, really—but it spirals into something darker, a clash of anger and frustration that’s been building for weeks. he storms out before you can stop him, the slam of the door echoing in the silence.

you tell yourself to let him go. to let him cool off. but as the hours stretch on and the night deepens, worry starts to gnaw at you. it’s raining now, the kind of downpour that drowns out everything else, and you can’t help but picture him out there, soaked and alone.

when the knock finally comes, it’s hesitant, and when you open the door, there he is—soaked to the bone, hair plastered to his forehead, his mask stuffed carelessly into his jacket pocket. his eyes are red-rimmed, shadows deeper than ever, and he looks at you like he’s not sure he’s welcome anymore.

"i shouldn’t have left," he says, his voice low and broken, the anger from earlier replaced with something softer.

you don’t say anything at first. you just step aside, letting him in. he stands there for a moment, dripping onto your floor, before you push a towel into his hands and wordlessly guide him to the couch. you sit beside him, close enough that your knees touch.

"i didn’t mean it," he finally murmurs, staring down at his hands. "any of it."

"neither did i," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. and it’s true. the things you’d said—they weren’t fair, weren’t kind, and you regret them now more than ever.

he lets out a shaky breath, and for the first time, you notice how his hands are trembling. "i don’t want to lose this," he says, and there’s a desperation in his voice that breaks something inside you. "i don’t want to lose you, love."

you reach for him then, your fingers brushing his, and he looks at you like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. but you don’t. instead, you take his hand, threading your fingers together. "you won’t," you promise, the words steady despite the lump in your throat. "but you can’t just walk away like that, simon. not again."

he nods, his grip on your hand tightening. "i’ll do better," he says, and you believe him, because you know he’s trying. because you know he cares.

and when he finally leans into you, his head resting on your shoulder, you let him. you sit there together, the storm outside raging on, but inside, there’s a quiet kind of peace.

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

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic

[yelenasbraid]

home to me — joe burrow

summary — bengals are now 0-3, and joe couldn’t feel worse about it. luckily, you’re there to help pick up his broken pieces

warnings — fem!reader, major angst, fluff, crying joey (SORRY)

note — surprise! and don’t come after me!

YOU WATCH WITH AN ACHING HEART the last 4 seconds of the game. you wished so badly for a miracle, for an interception, for something to turn that 33 into anything higher than a 38. offense looked great, defense? you could do better than they did without the padding.

that was your bitterness talking.

you filed out of the stadium and down to where you usually met joe; outside the locker room. you knew that this wasn’t going to be the celebration you hoped for. you knew that joe wasn’t going to have that boyish grin on his face, and it broke your heart. you felt like you haven’t seen joe smile in weeks.

you stood there, anxiously swaying as you watched player after player shuffle in from the field. those who noticed you gave you a small, sad smile. others kept going, angry at themselves and at the world.

joe appeared at the end of the crowd of players, as he usually did, with his head down. his shoulders sagged, but it wasn’t until he looked up and locked eyes with you that you saw everything.

joe was devastated, and rightfully so.

he parted from the staff member and walked over to you, a small pep in his step as he did so. no words were spoken as he threw his arms around you, bringing you as close as he could get you. you embraced him back, cradling his head as he nuzzled into your neck.

he’s never done this before, even after a win. for joe to express this level of emotion right after a game was unusual. it worried you, but maybe you were overthinking. you hoped you were.

joe separated from you, sniffling and keeping the tears at bay. you held onto his hands and watched him with a worried eye.

“i’m fine,” he answered your silent question. you knew he wasn’t, and he knew that you knew. that much was obvious.

“ok,” you hummed, but that’s all you were going to say right now. you didn’t believe him, and he knew that. joe gave you a single look, his eyes opening a gateway into his heart, the depth of his sadness. he was beating himself up, and pretty badly too.

“i might be a minute, go on home. i’ll see you later,” he told you. driving separately wasn’t abnormal, sometimes you had to. especially if it was an away game. what was odd was the way he seemed to stick around, unable to move his feet.

“ok, i love you,” you reminded him. his face softened, letting your words permeate through the tension in his chest. he just needed to make it through the press conference.

“i love you,” he replied. he gave you a lingering kiss on the forehead before he stepped away. he didn’t want to, though. he wanted to stay where it was safe, where it was comfortable. he wanted to stay with you because he didn’t have to explain himself. somehow, you always knew.

—

you were showered and in your pajamas by the time joe got home. you sat on the couch, blanket draped over your legs and your phone in your hands. you saw the comments, the videos of disappointed fans. you saw the posts all about how much of an upset the loss was. the more you read on, the more you realized that the fans didn’t think joe was at fault. they’d be right, it wasn’t his fault.

your eyes flicked up from your phone as joe made his way further into the house. his footsteps are heavy, as is the rest of his body. he’s exhausted, and there’s only a thread keeping him from falling apart.

“babe?” you called out to him, and he slowly turned his eyes towards you. his eyes were puffy, his face was red; did he cry in the car on the way home? silence met your questioning tone, but it did stop him in his tracks.

usually after a bad game, or a loss, joe needed space. he’d trudge up to his office and stay there for a few hours, pouring over film and noting strategies they needed to try next time. he was still going to do those things, but tonight was different. you knew it was the second he hugged you like he did after the game.

“i’m fine,” he replied, his voice breaking. joe didn’t like crying, in fact, he hated it. but he grew used to it, learning that just because he cried didn’t mean he was any less or he was weak. it took him a while for him to trust you with that vulnerability, but once he did, the flood gates couldn’t be locked tight for long.

“you’re not,” you hummed softly. he knew he wasn’t, and he wasn’t trying hard enough to hide it. he screwed his eyes shut, trying to make the tears go away, but all it did was make his eyes burn more.

“don’t run away from me, don’t shut me out,” you stood up from your spot on the couch, slowly walking over to him. he was battling himself as he stood there, tears sliding down his raw cheeks. his mind was waging a war against him, telling him lies about himself and about how he played.

“why?” he asked you.

“why what?”

“i’ve lost three games, and i’ve treated you horribly after two of them. why are you still with me?” he voiced his vulnerability, his fear. his heart told him you wouldn’t leave him because of a losing streak, but the malicious whispers in his mind told him a different story.

“one, you apologized to me and we talked about it,” you started, “secondly, joey, i’m still with you because you are the love of my life. you’re there to pick me up when i’m down, you’re able to make me laugh, you’ve helped me put pieces of myself back together that you didn’t break in the first place. you’re protective, and you’re a fighter, that’s why i’m with you and will always be with you,” you finished, peering into his eyes. you saw your words sink in and start to meld him back together, but it wasn’t enough.

“i’ve lost three games, three. no matter how hard i fight, no matter how well i think i did, i can’t seem to win a damn game!” joe spoke through gritted teeth, his hands going through his hair. he’s frustrated, he’s angry, and he’s beating himself up. he’s not blaming the team, he’s blaming himself.

“all of these people, all of the fans, you, i’ve disappointed them. i’ve disappointed you, i promised myself that i was going to bring home a superbowl ring, for both of us, and if we keep losing-”

“stop, joey,” you interrupted his spiral with a soft hand to his chest. he’s panting, out of breath from the amount of anxiety he’s giving himself.

“listen to me, look at me,” you tilt his chin so his eyes meet yours, feeling the soft starts of scruff against your finger tips, “you did not disappoint me, and you most certainly didn’t disappoint the fans watching you tonight. you played well, you made decisive plays, you were quick to release the ball. you did your job and did it well. and you will get that super bowl ring, i believe that, and so do you. you’ve beat the odds before, you’ve showed the world to never underestimate joe burrow, the small town kid from athens, ohio. so, show them again. show them what this kid can do,” you went on, shining light on the things that made joe joe.

“i’ve failed that kid,” he whispered, afraid to say it out loud. he’s fought so hard his whole life, and he still fought. joe’s never given up and he doesn’t plan on it, but the anger hasn’t settled in yet. the vengeance hasn’t taken root yet.

“no, no love you didn’t, you haven’t. you didn’t fail him when you tore your acl, you didn’t fail him when you went to the superbowl, you didn’t fail him when you went to the afc championship, you didn’t fail him amidst the injuries and the doubts. that kid would do anything to play football, and that’s exactly what you’re doing,” you told him, cradling his cheek with your hand. you could see the crack in his hard exterior, the way his blue eyes showed the depths of his soul. you could see glimpses of baby joey, the anxiety that ran deep, that threatened to take hold.

when joe looked at you, that anxiety slithered away. it tucked its tail and ran; you were his god given solace. he felt at home, he felt the warmth and the safety that radiated off of you.

“what did i do to deserve you?” he asked, melting into your touch.

“absolutely nothing,” you replied. you took his hand, guiding him back to the couch. you sat down, resting your back against the arm rest. you didn’t have to offer him, joe just found himself laying against your chest, his arms wrapped around you. you wrapped your arms around him, kissing the top of his head and threading your fingers through his frosted tips.

“i’m so proud of you, you know that?” you asked.

“i do,” he replied. he melted into you, relaxing against the feeling of your fingers against his scalp and your steady heartbeat in your chest.

“panthers don’t stand a chance,” he mumbled against your chest, making you laugh.

“show em who’s boss, baby,” you chuckled. joe would always come home to you, which wasn’t always physically. sure, home was a place, but it was also a person. you were his home, and he was home as long as he was with you.

i wrote this in one sitting!!! it took some editing and some rethinking, but i’m pretty proud of it! this may not be totally accurate joe but whatevs. enjoy this lovely, angsty piece!

[abbysbug]

— violent nature

pairing : dark!ellie x fem!reader

summary/request : Ok expansion pack: reader is leaving Ellie because of her violent nature for like the 3rd time, but Ellie tracks her and thinks a little rough sex is all she needs to fix reader's attitude, despite reader wanting out

content : noncon, stalking (kinda), breaking skin, bleeding, gun threats, degradation, fingering, clit rubbing, manipulation, overstimulation, finger sucking, cum eating.

note : this fanfic is pure fantasy and i do not encourage this behaviour happening inrl.

masterlist | discord

Your heart beat violently in your chest and your legs burned with each movement, but you couldn't stop running; you had to get as far away as possible.

You hadn't planned on leaving Jackson, but after multiple arguments with Ellie, you had to go.

Your face still stung from her slap and your bruised body ached.

You didn't take many things. Just enough food and water to keep you going until you found a shelter, and your gun, which you kept tucked in your pants.

It took you two days to find shelter. It was an abandoned neighbourhood that would have been swept through in the early days. The house you camped in had broken windows, doors, and furniture. But, there was a basement that would keep you warm throughout the night.

You felt safe there.

Until the sixth day.

You woke to the sound of a gunshot and a loud muffled cry. The person was close.

You reached for your gun and made your way out of the basement. You silently crept around the house, peering outside but couldn't see anyone.

You swallowed roughly and licked your lips.

They've probably moved on.

You turned around to make your way back to the basement but were met with a gun pointed at your face.

With Ellie's gun being pointed at your face.

Your immediate thought was to run, but your feet stayed glued to the ground. All you could do was pathetically stare at her with fear-stricken eyes.

Ellie chuckled.

"Did you miss me, baby?"

Ellie didn't give you time to respond. Her palm roughly met your cheek and she grabbed onto your throat, shoving you into the wall. You cried out and your gun was knocked out of your hand.

You tried to fight back and clawed at Ellie's hand. She ignored you, keeping her hand wrapped around your throat and her other on your hip, keeping you pinned.

"Little fuckin' bitch." She snarled as you broke her skin.

You kicked her in the leg and Ellie grunted. She threw you to the ground and straddled your waist, pinning your arms above your head.

"Why are you like this?" You wiggled relentlessly under Ellie.

Ellie sighed, leaned down, and kissed your neck "Because I love you."

She slowly shed your clothes, kissing every inch of your bare body. You didn't bother resisting her. She was too strong.

"If you try to run." Ellie used her thumb to wipe your tears away "I'll shoot you."

You nodded and stayed quiet.

Ellie released your arms and moved to lay between your thighs. She placed a soft kiss on your clit and two fingers propped at your hole. You shuddered as she slipped inside and her thumb rubbed your clit.

Ellie has memorised your body like the back of her hand. She knows what places make you scream and what places hurt. She knows how to force you over that pleasurable edge or keep you from it.

You whined, rutting your hips into Ellie's palm. It was pathetic how quickly Ellie made you chase that pleasure. She followed you for 6 days and once she finally found you, she threatened to kill you.

Now, you lay on the floor of an abandoned house letting her fuck you dumb.

A guttered moan escaped your lips as Ellie replaced her thumb with her lips, sucking and licking at your clit.

You clenched around her fingers and covered your moan, embarrassed by your loud moans. Your fingers threaded through Ellie's hair, pulling her closer to your cunt.

"You getting close, baby?" Ellie mumbled around your clit, vibrations going through your body.

Your words got stuck on your tongue as your orgasm washed over. Your back was arched and your toes curled. Your vision speckled white and you whimpered.

Overstimulation came quickly and you had to push Ellie's head away to stop her.

She chuckled and climbed back up your body. She pushed her slick-covered fingers against your lips and you opened. You both moaned as you sucked her fingers clean.

Ellie cupped your cheek and kissed you softly.

"You gotta stop running, sweet girl."

You swallowed roughly and nodded your head, whispering out.

"Okay."

-

a/n: so i would honestly make this darker but i know this fandom doesn't really like dark fics and i don't wanna be cancelled sooo :p

@ashandsweets @mystellenia

[effetsecndaires]

tw: inexperienced & irresponsible choso, unprotected sex

✧˚ · . 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 is apologizing profusely while you repeatedly tell him to pull out, the two of you panting and moaning into each other’s mouth. He has your hips in a bruising hold so you can’t squirm away, your own hands digging into his shoulders leaving tiny red indents behind.

He feels himself getting close to release and he knows you told him to finish on your stomach, but he can't pull out.

Your pussy feels good, so good, it drives him insane. His entire body is on autopilot, tears prickling at his waterline and lips repeatedly chanting "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i love you" as he keeps going, rutting his hips up in desperation, his strong arms locking around your waist to hold you tightly against his chest.

“C-Choso, baby, s-slow down plea- fuck please,” you stutter out, one hand moving from his back to thread into the hair atop his head and tug — your lips crashing together in a messy, uncoordinated kiss, your lips constantly parting for gasps of air and moans.

He hopes you can forgive him. He hopes you won't be mad at him. Your sweet broken cries of pleasure are driving him crazy and the thought of pulling out when he's so close to the edge is inconceivable to him. He feels so good and he knows he's being selfish, but he just can't pull out…

And truth be told, those breathy moans and desperate whiny sounds he makes are so fucking hot you can't even be mad at him.

He needs to fill you up and you let him, your eyes rolling back in your head as his hips finally come to a stop, a guttural moan ripping from his throat as he comes; warm, thick cum pumping into you in long seemingly never ending spurts.

You know there'll be consequences to that, but you'll deal with them later. Plan B exists for a reason, after all.

note: this is the best I can do right now. :( i'm really sorry for the lack of content. I've never felt so drained of inspiration as I do right now. I have 20-ish wips that I struggle to finish because of this writers block.

[tojikai]

MASQUERADE 3: Amber

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Reader

Masquerade |  Masquerade 2  |  Masquerade 3 | +

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, royal au, forced marriage, cheating, drama, emotional turmoil, power imbalance, manipulation

word count: 6k

a/n: i cannot tag some users :((

If you’re coming for Aika’s heart, then it’s only fair that he comes for yours.

“Y/N!” All eyes darted to the gigantic doors of the castle as it slammed open. The royal guards almost took stance when they heard the noise. Some maids were frozen in place, while others scuffled, whispering to their fellow workers as the Prince shouted the Queen’s name. It was truly a scene to gossip about. Everybody wondered what the Queen did this time when the captive burst through the door, cursing her name.

“Y/N!” Your head whipped to the door, brows furrowed and eyes wide at the sound of commotion on the other side of the walls, surrounding your room. Although it can easily hide and muffle the sounds of your cries, it can never hide the radiating range from your husband’s calls as he storms up the stairs and banging on your door.

The wood was hard, but his fists were determined to break down anything that stops him from getting to you—the reason his Princess and their relationship were deteriorating. It was nothing new, nothing surprising after everything that you have done against them. Suguru knows that giving up was not in your choices when you chose to continue the relationship after he told you about his plans for him and Aika: every other night meetings, a whole week with her during his vacation period, a secured and private path for their rendezvous in the woods where no one will see them. 

Basically continuing his life with her. And you agreed, even if it meant slowly dying inside.

Now, after he left you bare and cold, he’s back with his range. All that you know was that he left to check on his Princess while you stood in the middle of that room alone. Slowly crumbling to pieces as you failed to hold on to the last thread of strength in your heart. You sniveled, lips quivering as you tried to stop your cries. Standing up, you quickly walked to the door as you pitifully wiped away your tears. You don’t want to acknowledge that you’re scared.

“You might need to let him go, my Queen. This country won’t stand strong if they see you in this pain.” You remembered your lady-in-waiting’s words.

This is where your fear stems from. By the sound of his voice, you’re scared that he might say something that would really force you to let him go and even in the middle of all this, that’s the last thing you want to do. You want to hold on until your physical body gives up, maybe then he’ll learn to love you. 

You turned the doorknob, opening it gently, but that was soon broken by Suguru’s harsh hand. Pushing at the door before slamming it in his guard's face as he glowered at you with all the hatred in his heart. It was only about a few hours ago that he was staring at you with dark, desiring eyes, filled with want and need. It was only about a few hours ago, that his hands, his lips, and mouth, were gently caressing your body.

He left here when you can see a quarter of the sun from the horizon. Now, it’s gone. Now, it’s totally gone. Nothing but darkness walks the ground of the kingdom and creeps up the walls. Now, it’s totally gone, and the Suguru that you saw a few hours ago has nothing but darkness in his eyes.

All the love and affection that you’ve been craving all these months of being his wife was totally, painfully gone.

The dried tears in your eyes and on your cheek felt like it was stretching your skin, wanting to tear it off. You looked up at him, waiting for him to explain what made him barge in the way he did, and why he was looking at you the way he is doing right now, but nothing came. He just stood there, breathing hard and his jaw tightly clenched. You can almost feel the friction in your own teeth as he scowled at you.

“H-how is Princess Aika? How come you're back too early—” Your words were abruptly cut off by his gritted voice, strained and heavy with exhaustion from the long journey. “You really ought to know.” He snapped, bitterness prominent in his voice as he took a step closer to you. Naturally, you stepped back with your brows furrowed. Your throat felt dry, and his words got your thoughts into a braided twist.

“What do you mean? I heard she collapsed, so I—” Once again, he interrupted your words, making you flinch—not by the sharpness of his voice but the harshness of his words. “Has your disciple not told you yet?” He smirked mockingly at you, undoing the first two buttons of his shirt as if desperately needing to cool down before he said something harsh that could put you and him in an irreversible place. But it wasn’t of help at all as he continuously spilled his heart and mind, his rage and frustrations from all the troubles that you put him and his lover through.

If you’re coming for Aika’s heart, then it’s only fair that he comes for yours.

“Did you think killing her off would open up a space for you in my heart?” Your chest felt heavy with each word that came out of his mouth. Suddenly, thoughts of the things that could’ve happened to the Princess, your cousin, were thrown out of the window. Questions of why’s and how’s you’re being blamed slowly made their way out of your head, and now all you could think about was how futile all your tries to get his love were.

“Y/N, even if I lost everything dear to my heart, none of those spaces will ever suit you.” Your hand was frozen, shaking, and numb from the coldness of his words. You’re pretty sure it would’ve reached up to rub your chest to attempt to soothe the searing pain flowing in your every vein. “Get that through the stones of your crown and your thick skull.” He hissed through his tightly clenched teeth, pointing a finger at your forehead.

You stood there, unmoving, letting your mind and heart absorb his words. They were knives, cutting you all over your body. They were daggers, piercing through your heart and twisting themselves to your very body to incapacitate you. You thought being left hanging was already painful. You didn’t think you’d end up hurting more when he came back, openly spitting out his resentment towards you. Further proving that whatever happened earlier was only as shallow as the flesh. 

The wind blew on the curtains through your open window, caressing your back and dancing on your hair as you stared up at him with tear-filled eyes. You didn’t blink, you don’t want to let them fall. Because you know that the moment you feel their warm wetness on your cheek, the ice from his disdain will melt, and you’ll end up feeling more of his less. You looked down, watching as the droplets fell on the dark carpet underneath your bare feet and his shoe. 

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Suguru.” Your voice was a broken whisper, turning around and finally letting your hand reach for the falling tears. “I am unaware of the accusations you are throwing at me.” You’re starting to break as you walked towards your vanity, grabbing a hairbrush and avoiding his glare at you through the mirror. “Whatever happened to Princess Aika is not one of my deeds. I simply wanted to know if my cousin was fine—” You were halted when Suguru clicked his tongue, closing his eyes in annoyance.

“Tell your dog to lift the curse, or I shall find her.” He held his head high, looking you down. His Adam’s apple bobbed up ad down as he swallowed. His eyes were stern, much like his words, as if he was so sure it was you who commanded the evil act. Opening your mouth, you turned to him, but before you could even speak, he already beat you to it.

“Nobody would hate Aika more than you. Nobody would hate the woman their husband love, more than a desperate wife.” Your lips quivered, tears continuously brimming your eyes as you watched him look away from you, turning his back to stare at his shadow on the wall. “Nobody knows about Aika and me as much as you do, much less where we meet.” Your eyes softened as his voice did, coming to a realization at how cruelly he was talking to you. “Who else would…who else would…” He panted, licking his lips as he closed his eyes to calm himself.

“It’s not me…” You croaked, feeling defeated, not really expecting your husband to believe it. If he’s this disoriented, then it must be worse than what you’re thinking. Swallowing the broken shards of your heart, you asked, “Could she be…expecting?” Suguru paused before shaking his head, sure that that wasn’t the case. “An enchanter was with her, a doctor was with her. Aika is not with a child.” He turned to you again, composed this time as he took in your form.

You were trying so hard not to cry, to break down and tell him you didn’t know a thing about what’s going on, but you’re too afraid to meet his gaze. You lost all strength when he left, his accusations squeezed you dry, and now you just want to lock yourself up in this room and cry til your tears turn to blood, probably ending you for good. Apart from saying that you cursed his beloved, everything he said was close to the truth. It only made sense that you’ll be his first suspect if something happens to Aika.

“I shouldn’t have accused you like that but…” He breathed, sitting on the edge of the bed. The image of how he sits now was much different than how he was positioned earlier; greatly contrasting, if anything. “The enchanter said it was done on your account. And I was scared. Aika isn’t well. She’s far from well and we…we’re being forced to separate.” You stood there, perplexed, as you tried to think of any enchantresses you might know, but there are none. 

“Be honest with me. I’ll figure something out to make this work out for all of us but don’t do this to Aika. She did nothing but love.” He almost sounded like he was begging, yet you can’t help but feel sour for his last sentence. She did nothing but love, your hand reached for your collar bones as you locked eyes with him. You did nothing but love too, but what did you get? 

“It’s not me, Suguru. I have no idea about whom it could be, but it is not me.” You sat back down on the ribboned vanity stool, feeling your knees starting to give out. You watched him sigh, face contorted with a worry you’ve never seen before, and you wondered if he’d get like this too if you were in Aika’s place. His hand ran a hand through his hair, grunting as he stood up before halting his steps to turn to you. 

“I’m trying to trust you, Y/N. Please, do not stoop so low.” With that, he exited your room, once again leaving you stripped. 

This time, not of your clothes, but your dignity, your honor, and peace of mind. He stripped you of your right to love him on your own with no consequences.

—--------------------------------------------

“The pages will continue their training, I’ll be stepping in for the officials who are leaving. They’ll try to get back as soon as possible, but I assure you, my Queen, the Kingdom will continue to be safe even in their absence.” Kento assured as the gears get loaded into the carriage. Suguru made a decision to perform a search in the farther end of the woods, an unexplored area, to look for the enchantress. They have no clear leads, but the enchanter said that the culprit is not far outside the Kingdom’s safe grounds. 

Suguru stepped in front of him, locking eyes with you as he picked up something behind you. “It’s only for two weeks.” He rasped, watching Kento hung his head low, stepping back in respect. He should be the one assuring you. But the connection between the two of you only deteriorated ever since the night he confronted you. He apologized, but he’s aware that those words aren’t easy to erase, especially for someone with your wits. 

You know that he somewhat carry a hint of honesty with what he said. You’ve been absent to some court meetings, and they were days when your heart was too heavy to carry. This situation carries such an uncertainty to it that makes you scared of the future. Maybe this is where this circus show will end. Maybe after they fix this, Suguru will leave the Kingdom for good, and elope with Aika somewhere outside your territory where no one will quickly recognize them. Maybe you’ll be stepping down, left alone, like how you were when you were younger. 

Maybe this is where you’ll have to give everything up just so you could give back everything you took away from them.

You weren’t even made aware of the plan until today, as per Suguru’s request. If you denied him, it would only come out as a confirmation for his suspicions, and that’s the last thing you want. You weren’t given a choice but to agree just to prove your innocence to your husband. Some men aren’t aware of the whole purpose of the expedition. Just that they’re supposed to let the Prince interrogate each enchanter and enchantresses they come across.

Suguru looked up from the yard to the small window at the back of your room. As a childhood friend, he hated that he has to accuse you of something like this. But it was like he was left with no choice. You already did something as cruel as forcing a marriage with him, taking him away from Aika despite knowing of their relationship. He couldn’t bring himself to excuse and exempt you of speculations and doubts. 

Setting his mind on Aika’s cure, he pushed his thoughts of you aside. Once he finds the culprit for her pain, he promised himself that he won’t let his emotions get ahead of him and instead go immediately for what he can do to heal her. There’s nothing more important than seeing his Princess alive and smiling again. Suguru’s ready to sacrifice anything, even anyone, if it is required for Aika’s life.

After a week of journey, a letter was sent to them through the Central Palace’s skilled courier. This letter was probably sent a few days ago and only reached them now due to how deep they got into this uncharted territory. As much as he wants to hear from the Southern Palace about the Princess, his mind won’t let him think peaceful thoughts. It scares him that when something comes from them, it’ll only be bad news.

Opening the letter, he spotted that it was from Kento. He assumed that it was about the knights and the pages’ progress or needs, but that was not the case. Suguru found himself frowning, brows knitted together, as he read how the man wrote about you and your state. He almost called a knight to pen him a letter about what your ladies-in-waiting are so busy about that a Grand Officer is looking after you.

“She caught a fever two days ago, Sir. I suppose from worrying too much. About the troop and the people of the Kingdom.” He mouthed quietly, allowing the overthinking to settle on the top of his head. He blinked away the thoughts of another man looking after you. He pulled at the collar of his clothes.

It wasn’t jealousy. He has no time to be jealous right now in the middle of all that is going on inside his head. He simply thinks that it won’t be such a pleasant sight that a Queen is allowing a man other than her husband to take care of her.

Grabbing a piece of paper, he pulled a pen from his chest pocket. “Where are her ladies-in-waiting?” was the first thing he wrote without second thoughts, “She doesn’t like the taste of water when she’s sick. Tell them to make sure she gets enough.” He added, “Grand Officer Nanami, I appreciate your concern towards my wife, but I need you to focus on the pages. With the new schedule, I want you to ensure that they’re still getting quality education and training.”

Proceeding to write the letter, Suguru tried not to make it so much about you and how he felt like Nanami was overstepping his boundaries. He doesn’t want to be so selfish, leaving his wife to save his lover and not expecting her to look for comfort from someone else. He isn’t stupid, and he won’t be surprised if that’s how you feel. But he knows you too much, and he’s just afraid that in times when your relationship is this brittle, you’ll be swayed by the temporary solace and end up ruining your reputation.

That night, he wondered why you got so sick. He felt bad thinking about how the strain from overthinking was making you weak. On the other hand, he can’t help but feel suspicious that of all times, you choose to be sick right now that he’s on a search mission. It might sound cruel, but not even you can make him abandon this mission to save Aika. 

The second week was intense. Wild animals have started appearing in the woods, and it’s getting more dangerous for Suguru’s men. He’s just grateful that these men trained under him so, Suguru’s very confident with their skills. Today marks the 11th day of their expedition, and he can never be prouder about the fact that his troop remained complete and all intact. Their resources as well-managed, too, so no serious problems are arising.

Earlier this morning, a knight informed him that a house has been discovered deeper into the woods. It was really remote, almost close to the borders, but Suguru didn’t think twice before deciding that the location of the house is where they’re headed. This arduous journey might just come to an end after this and conclude Aika’s misery in the best way possible. 

“Remain on guard at all times. This place is extremely unknown to all of us as it is very far from our lands.” Suguru started, turning to his mean as they stood several meters away from the small bungalow. “Stay where you’ve been assigned and remain vigilant.” An Official stepped forward, turning to the men as he let the Prince speak.

“I will be accompanying the Prince. Pay close attention to anything strange, may it be noise or smell.” With that, they went on to knock on the door of the bungalow. Suguru clenched his jaw and balled his fist, saying prayers inside his head as he hoped that this will be their last stop before heading back to the Kingdom. The two of them looked at each other as no one answered the door despite the slow footsteps inside that has stopped a couple of seconds ago.

Another knock gave them nothing. Nobody answered or even moved inside. As if their first knock sent whoever’s inside scuffling and hiding, and now they won’t open the door for the two knights. The Prince was getting impatient, breathing loudly as he tapped his feet on the cold hard ground, covered with leaves. Just as Suguru was about to step forward to knock, the door handle turned. A short woman with strands of white hair looked up at them as she creaked the door ajar.

“I cannot let you in. I’m sick.” The old lady coughed, turning away, but Suguru was observant enough to catch how she glanced at them sharply even as she does so. “You don’t have to entertain us at all. Just answer our questions.” He swallowed his frustration, not having it in him to shout at a poor, old woman’s face, even when she’s obviously rejecting them right away.

“Don’t you recognize the Prince?” His companion spoke, sighing. “I’ll be getting straight to the point because we’ve spent long enough time in the middle of this forest.* Suguru raised his hand a bit to stop the knight from scaring the poor woman further. Having been in service for several years, Suguru knows that he also noticed the woman’s odd behavior toward their appearance. 

"Are you the enchantress who placed a curse on Princess Aika of the Southern District?” The Prince knows that it was pointless asking her, because based on her reactions, she seems like she wanted to shut the door on their faces. "No. Please, leave. I need to rest.” As expected, she attempted to close the door, but the knight’s foot was quick to stop. “This is not our Kingdom’s territory so if someone else came to get you, we won’t be able to give you justice.” He spoke, and it was partly true. Aika’s father also sent a small troop to cover some areas that they can’t and make the search faster.

“We’re not the only ones searching for the enchantress. But I can assure you that we only seek answers and do not intend to harm anybody.” Suguru was determined. He doesn’t know where else they would head to or how else to navigate the area if this is still not what they are looking for. He also has a feeling that they’re running out of time. That’s the last thing he wants to happen.

With his words, the old woman held the door open wider, stepping aside to invite them in. Suguru and his companion shared a look, nodding once before entering the small house. The ceiling was low, but it was surprisingly bright despite being a house owned by someone who practices dark magic. The sat on chairs that creak and look like they’d fall apart if a bit more weight was placed on them. There were books on the shelf that were obviously not opened for a long time, in contrast to the blooming and colorful flowers near the window. It was an odd place, and not what they expected for an enchantress.

“Sir, I have to tell you this first before anything else.” She began and Suguru immediately tensed up, eyes going wide as he turned to the woman "It’s true that I did it for the Queen. But a-a woman was involved. She’s the one who told me of the affair. But I cannot tell you who it was.” She fidgeted, swallowing as she looked between Suguru and his companion. Suguru was too shocked to respond quickly, but the other knight was very observant, “There’s no way, you’ll just give out that information, but I assume you’re saying this to save yourself from the blame.” He gave her an accusatory gaze, only to be met with a shake of her head.

“No, Sir. It’s because it was a part of our deal. It can only be known if she herself admits it, but other than that, it won’t come out of my mouth. This is a woman of power. And I am not the only one who can place sceleris in the world.” Her eyes were looking straight at theirs, they were almost completely convinced, but they know not to trust too much. The knight and Suguru once again exchanged looks, letting the enchantress continue. “But I can tell you how to cure the Princess of the South.” 

That. More than anything was what Suguru needed to know. 

“Tell me, and we’ll leave you alone.” He commanded right away, standing up and standing close to the enchantress, making her breath hitch as she stepped back, afraid. “Tell me.” He repeated, ready to fall on his knees and offer all that he can just to get the answers out of the old woman’s trembling lips. The silence felt so long, and the air he was breathing felt hot and thick in his nose. The moment he hears what Aika needs, they’re bolting out of this shadowed place. 

“There’s this stone that she needs to come in contact with. Just a touch would be sufficient to restore her health.” The enchanter, albeit shaking, took a basin with water, allowing the light to illuminate it and reflect the orange gem she was mentioning. There was a curious look on Suguru’s face, mixed with eagerness and worry. He can’t help but feel like it was too easy to be true. “If you’re fooling us, I won’t hesitate to come and chase after you. Even to the ends of the Earth.” He threatened, eyes looking away from the image for a bit to sent daggers to the old woman, a serious threat.

She simply shook her head and breathed onto the water. Suguru’s companion was behind them, standing guard, just in case this old lady pulls a trick on them. “The only reason I’m giving you answers this easily was because none of them will come from me. They all depend on the people involved, and I’m afraid that they’ll be the real challenge to you, Your Royal Highness.” She addressed, eyes filled with an odd combination of worry, remorse, and fear.

“Just tell me how and where to get it.” The Prince’s teeth were clenched so hard that they start to hurt. His jaw felt like jelly with their friction vibration on them each time they grate against one another. “I don’t care how difficult, how hard. Just tell me.” He whispered, feeling the exhaustion of the past several days slowly catching up to him. 

“There are only two people who own the Amber. As it was a part of a pact that happened long ago.” She started, struggling to sit up straight and wrap herself in her shabby coat that probably can’t even keep her warm enough. It has tons of patches, and loose threads that could probably tear the whole thing down with a single pull.

“The King of the tribe on the other end of the map.” Suguru gulped, feeling his companion's distress radiate on him. The place was not close. He probably won’t be able to save Aika even if he began his journey now. Other than that, they have no connections to that land, no more. They used to be allies, but after certain events and changes, they fell out, and that pact was considered null now. There’s no way they’d have access to their stone. 

“Who holds the other one?” The Prince’s throat felt like sand paper, stinging as he spoke each word. The old woman looked him straight in the eyes, frowning slightly as she breathed deeply, making Suguru’s heartbeat race. He felt like it was something worse than the former. “The Queen has the other one.” Fuck. Suguru spoke in his mind, more out of relief than worry. 

“Queen Y/N?” Suguru asked, refusing to succumb to his assumptions. The enchantress nodded, making him feel a little easy about it all. If it was with you, then it shouldn’t be so hard to acquire it. After all, you also wish for Aika to be better. The only thing to be worried about here was the fact that your judgment could be clouded with your desire for him and the inevitable animosity you might feel towards Aika which explains the look on the enchantress’ face before she revealed you.

Not giving Suguru the stone can get Aika out of your way. This is something Suguru hates to think you’d do, but when it dawns on him that you proceeded with your wedding to Suguru despite knowing his status with Aika put enormous doubts in his mind. If it gets to that point where you’d let your cousin die just to have Suguru all to yourself, then he doesn’t know what he’d do anymore. He’ll probably lose his mind, begging you to save Aika.

Panicking, Suguru couldn’t bring himself to ask another question. “Inform everyone we’re leaving.” He turned, heading for the door as he dragged his cape with him, and rushing out the door. He’ll get that stone, he’ll convince you to let him have that stone. He affirmed himself as he watched his knights scramble to their horses as the official announces their plan. Within a few minutes, all of them were heading back to the palace.

—---------------------------------------------

“Did he not write a letter after the one you mentioned?” You asked Nanami as he sat in front of you, setting down his cup. You looked to the horizon, hoping to see their silhouette on the setting sun. It’s been two weeks since they left, and no letters were received by the palace after the one he sent back ten days ago. You were worried about him and everyone. You also sent Aika some fresh fruits and a letter, hoping for her speedy recovery, and were just glad to receive a short one back. You can’t blame them for giving you a cold treatment. You can’t blame them for suspecting you. But for you, it was just enough that right now, Suguru listened to you. 

That’s all you ever need, after all; for him to listen to you.

 “I think they are very busy with the search. It was an uncharted area. Even for a courier, it might be hard to track, and I believe Prince Suguru considered that.” He comforted you, seeing the glow of the sun shine down on your face. Nanami knows that this whole thing was killing you too. What with watching your husband leave and search for the cure of his lover, and leaving you waiting for two weeks. 

“The maids said you’ve developed an unhealthy sleeping habit, Your Majesty, forgive me if this is a bit too much for a knight, but I worry about you, the whole kingdom will worry about you too if they know.” He sighed, taking in the dark circles under your eyes and how your face is starting to look slim from poor diet. “I doubt the Prince would be happy if he found out too, we all know he cares for you more than he lets you know.” You looked down, shaking your head. 

“It doesn’t matter, Aika’s having it worse. She doesn’t deserve it.” Your voice sounded raspy, cracking at the end. Nanami can’t understand why Prince Suguru finds it hard to fall for you when you are like this; golden inside and out. He looked away, blocking the inappropriate thoughts. He should not be questioning your relationship with the Prince. He’s not on your level and aside from that, he wasn’t chosen to marry someone when he’s already courting someone else. He is in no place to judge Suguru.

“I know they’ll solve it when they come back. The Prince has never taken on a task and failed.” You nodded, pursing your lips as you looked at the empty space on the wooden coffee table. This is a gift you got from Aika’s parents for your wedding. Intricately carved with small images of two lovers waltzing. You wondered if they had Aika and Suguru in mind when deciding its designs. It made you sick, looking away and back to the horizon,

“Nanami,” You breathed out, tensing in your seat as you braced yourself with your chair's armrests. Nanami followed your gaze, eyes widening as he saw the figures of men in horses, rushing to the palace gates. “They’re back.” With that, you sprung out of your seat, holding the skirt of your dress. “Be careful, Your Majesty.” Nanami tried his best to support you, but you were running downstairs, more worried than excited for your Prince's return. 

After all, there was nothing to be excited about. It's not like he was returning for you. 

“Are the gates opened?” You asked the maids as you passed by them in the halls, breathing hard as if you were chasing someone. And maybe you are. Maybe you're too scared that this man isn't even with this troop. Maybe you're scared that this man didn’t even come straight home to you. Maybe you’re scared that if you’re too slow, you won’t even catch him before he disappears again. 

“Suguru!” You shouted, leaning by the window as relief took over your features when you catch him in his horse, having just entered the palace premises. Quite the contrast with his grim expression, as he looked up at you, getting down from his horse. It wasn’t anger or hate like you expected, but it was definitely something far from the longing that your eyes were screaming to him as you ran to hug his figure.

His arms reached up to the small of your back, turning away his head to signal his men to rest and unpack. “You’re back. How have you been? The maids have a meal prepared, let’s go inside.” Nanami stood by the arch of the back door of the palace, meeting Suguru’s gaze as he ran a hand through your hair. Bowing, he saluted the Commander before turning to leave and check on the other knights.

“I need to talk to you about something, Y/N.” His voice sounded hoarse, like he hasn’t spoken for hours. And maybe he didn’t from how fast his heart was beating you can tell it was days of travel. He got slimmer, his eyes look dull; duller than before. “Just rest for a bit first, look at you. It can wait, I’m always just here.” You checked him, turning his face to the side as your hands caressed his shoulders.

“No, it can’t. Aika’s life won’t wait.” Your hands fell to your sides as tears continuously fell from your eyes. Earlier, they were tears of joy, worry, and care. Now, they’re just tears of a heart slowly breaking more and more as you realize that he really isn’t here for you. “I need the Amber, Y/N.” He continued, shutting his eyes close as he tried to steady himself. He cannot let the fatigue get to him yet.

“What Amber?” Your voice was soft, but there was roughness too. “You know what I’m talking about.” He held your hands, kissing them, but it didn’t help at all. It didn’t sooth you, it didn’t stop  your heart from gushing blood. You shook your head, taking a small step back, but he only took one after you, “Please, just this time. Just let me save her. I’ll… I’ll do as you wish. Even an heir, Y/N. If you want me to stop meeting her every other night, I will. Just…” Y/N was too smart to know that half of what he was saying can easily be thrown away if he wanted, but that’s not why she was shaking her head.

“No, I can’t.” Closing her eyes as she turned away, she felt him hug her from behind, pleading with his whole heart, his whole being, more than he did when she decided their marriage. It was an arrow to her already dying soul. She doesn’t know how much more she can take. “Suguru, you don’t understand.” She took his arms off around her, walking away despite his desperation but was quickly halted by his next words.

“Why? You know, the enchantress said it was someone of power who did this to Aika. A woman of power, Y/N.” His voiced cracked, finally getting to his last resort. He hates to say this, but what else can he do or say to make you hear him out? Your back was facing him as your surroundings started to blur, listening to everything he says even as they tear you to shreds, freezing you on your spot.

“This is your chance to prove that it wasn’t you.”

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