#what if one day you guys log on and i never make a post again?

[the-woild-is-y-erster]

what if i cried over someone who never loved me, would you guys still put up with me?

[quinzzelx]

Eros

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Well....How do I put this. This is Porn with Plot. Filth, with a bit of an unhinged story. You're on a mission with Azriel. After an ambush, you get into a fight and find yourselves to be captured by some sick people. Word Count: 11K

Warnings: Smut, pure FILTH, a bit Angsty, Slight Dub!Con, Voyeurism, Canon typical Violence, blood, Mentions of Sex-trafficking, some type of sex pollen/potion, forced intimacy, porn with plot, 18+

A/N: Guys, I swear that I DID SEE the voting turned out to be Fluff, and I will be posting that one soon. BUT- please only read this if you feel comfortable with darker tones. I had to get this out here. Jeez, enjoy. ☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆

Sometimes, bad things happen. In fact, they occur all too frequently, by all the gods' reckoning. Azriel could swear he attracted bad luck like a magnet. But this? He cursed under his breath, feeling as if fate were playing a cruel joke on him.

He groaned, frustration evident as his hand ran down his face. Of all times for misfortune to strike, it had to be while he was on a mission with you. "What?" You snapped at him, your eyes squinted in concentration as you struggled to fix the sheath of your dagger. With a huff of frustration, the dagger and its sheath fell to the ground, clinking and scattering. You muttered something under your breath, wincing as you shifted on the log you were perched upon.

Azriel paced in the small forest clearing, muttering to himself. "For fuck's sake, Rhys!" he shouted inwardly, though it proved futile. Hours had passed since he first attempted to reach Rhys, to no avail. Either they were too far away or something was interfering with the connection. "I can't reach Rhys."

You snorted at his statement, rolling your eyes. "No shit, Azriel. If you could, he'd be here by now." His jaw clenched, his narrowed eyes landing on your hunched form still seated on the log in the center of the clearing. They trailed over your injured left wing, twisted at an unnatural angle. With an irritated twitch of his upper lip, his scowl deepened.

"If you had paid attention while flying, we wouldn't be in this mess," he said, his tone harsher than intended.

"Excuse me?" Enraged, you stood up and marched toward him, your face contorted in anger, a slight limp accompanying each step. "I got shot by a damn Asharrow coated in Faebane!"

"Exactly!" He snarled, taking another step to close the distance between you. "How did that even happen?" A humorless laugh escaped you as you met his gaze. "Are you serious?"

When his expression only hardened, your anger resurfaced. "Oh, you really are serious!" You swallowed the lump in your throat, closing the distance between you and jabbing a pointed finger at his chest angrily. "You!" you hissed between gritted teeth. "If you had actually listened when I said I needed a break, I might have been able to pay more attention!"

In fact, you had asked for a break numerous times. However, the group you were tracking didn't seem to consider breaks necessary. They had been abducting young females and males all over Prythian for months. When they crossed into the borders of the Night Court and ambushed a small village, Rhysand had dispatched you two immediately. Several days had already passed since you crossed into Winter, and now you were venturing into Autumn territory.

Azriel growled lowly, catching your wrist with his hand to prevent you from stabbing at his chest again. "You obviously shouldn't have come on this mission then," he said, his voice as cold as ice. For some reason, Azriel was always harsher with you. You had tried, really tried to make him warm up to you, but this thick-headed male infuriated you like no one else. There had been a time when you would have called him a close friend, someone you could confide in.

You had met Cassian and Rhys in Windhaven on the day they first established that Wingclipping was forbidden and never to be done again. You had always found ways to avoid it, making yourself sick with different herbs and mushrooms, because for whatever reason and little morals the Illyrians held, they didn't want to clip a sick female's wings. The irony was beyond you, but it worked for some decades. That day, your uncle had found you preparing the mixture that made you sick and unleashed his wrath upon you. He had dragged you outside by your hair while you thrashed and clawed at him, begging him to let you keep your wings, pleading for mercy.

As if the Mother had heard your pleas, Rhys and Cassian arrived just as a group of men were holding you down to make an example out of you. Taking advantage of their temporary distraction, you kicked up at the jaw of your uncle holding you down, breaking it. He howled in agony, clutching at the broken bone. One of his friends tried to punch you then, but you dodged him, elbowing him in the gut and headbutting him when he fell to his knees.

In that moment, you probably looked like the personification of pure fury, blood dripping from your split lip, broken nose, and dislocated shoulder. Still, you fought, not only breaking these men's frail egos but also their weak bones. Rhysand was angry, standing tall and making a strong example out of their behavior, executing them for their act of treason and hurling insults at him. He was the High Lord, and no one was to disobey his orders. Cassian tended to you, helping with your shoulder and beaming proudly at you. He started training you from that day on. They had seen your sheer willpower, strength, and potential. And potential indeed. These days, you wore not one, but three siphons. Yes, you still weren't as powerful as Cassian or Azriel, but you weren't weak either. The average Illyrian had nothing on you.

They soon took you to Velaris with them, where you quickly found yourself becoming one of Mor's best friends. Azriel was always wary around you, distant at first. But for years, you had enjoyed talking to each other. Only in the past four had he become distant again, seemingly even disliking you and your company. And you found yourself becoming resentful too. You could have lived with it if you never got along in the first place, but this sudden change made you angry at yourself for ever having a crush on this stupid male in the first place!

"Fuck you, Azriel!" you spat at him, your head red with anger. Both of you had been flying for three days straight, resting only twice. You had only spotted the arrow at the last moment, dodging it just as it was about to strike your head. But despite your efforts, it found its mark, lodging right into your shoulder. A second arrow followed swiftly, tearing through one of your wings. The pain was excruciating, and a strong gust of wind threw you off balance, causing you to crash into Azriel with full force, sending both of you plummeting towards the ground. Azriel momentarily lost his bearings, only regaining focus when you hurtled past him. With powerful beats of his wings, he caught up to you and wrapped you in his arms, but it was too late to slow the momentum. Together, you crashed through the trees, branches tearing at your skin before slamming into the unforgiving ground.

"I'm just saying that maybe Rhys has overestimated your capability," he stated nonchalantly, lowering his gaze to meet yours. Ripping your hand away from his grasp, you shoved at his chest, your voice snarling with rising anger. "Yes, I'm sorry to burden you. Maybe next time I'll just free-fall and accept death with open arms."

Without thinking, anger consuming him, Azriel growled, "Maybe you should." Any retort you had died in your throat. Wide-eyed and shocked, you took a step back, and only then did he realize the gravity of his words. His own eyes widened, filled with regret as he reached out to you, flinching when you dodged him and hurried to retrieve your dropped dagger. "Wait—I—" he called out, stepping toward you, desperate to take back his words. He cursed himself as tears pricked at your eyes. "No, I understood perfectly," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. With one swift motion, you shouldered your bag and walked toward the opposite treeline.

Azriel's heart clenched as he called your name again, pleading for you to wait, to let him apologize and take back his words. But you cut him off, saying, "I'll scout the surroundings, see if I can find anything useful," before disappearing into the woods. He cursed himself once more, sending some of his shadows after you. Splitting up was dangerous, especially when enemies were nearby. Defeated, Azriel sank onto the log you had occupied earlier, sighing heavily as he buried his head in his hands. "Rhys," he spoke again, reaching out to his brother, "We were ambushed, and I messed up." As he sat there, waiting, his hazel eyes scanning the darkening sky, he cursed himself again.

A while later, a twig snapped to his right, and his head whipped around. Had you finally returned? His shadows frantically warned of danger. Standing up, he gripped Truthteller tightly, ready to face whatever came his way.

"Behind you!" his shadows screamed, but before he could react, a blunt object struck his head, and a syringe found its way into his neck. With a grunt, he collapsed to the ground.

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Something was definitely amiss. Azriel's senses felt muddled, his consciousness drifting in and out like waves against a shore. Hadn't he just been... flying? No, he was on a mission. Flying, no, falling. A groan escaped his lips as dizziness overwhelmed him. He attempted to rub a hand over his face to clear his thoughts, but something restrained his wrists, pulling against his movements with a metallic clink. Groggily, he tried to pry his eyes open, but they felt heavy, weighted down by an impenetrable darkness. Panic stirred within him as he struggled against his bindings, the realization sinking in that he was not where he should be. Where was he? And more importantly, where were you? His brows furrowed in frustration as he tugged on his other arm, only to find it chained as well.

"Fuck!." Whipping his head around, an alarming feeling of unease settled in the pit of his stomach. Surveying his surroundings, he noted the darkness but discerned the wooden floor. Good, this meant he was either in a village or some kind of building. His arms were chained to the ground next to his body, where he sat leaning against the wall. Confusion swept over him when he realized his legs were relatively free to move. Chains wrapped around his ankles, but the chain was longer. He surmised he could walk around the whole room if he wasn't anchored to the ground by his arms.

His eyes continued to sweep through the dark room, gradually adjusting to the dimness as he squinted, attempting to focus on what lay on the other side of the room. At the other side of the room, a table gradually emerged from the darkness, its silhouette becoming clearer to Azriel's eyes. As he discerned more barely-there furniture, a sense of dread washed over him. This was no ordinary room. It was a torture chamber, though unlike any he was familiar with from Hewn City. Whips, clamps, syringes, and various other implements of torture adorned the space, along with devices he couldn't even identify. His gaze lingered on a table adorned with chain locks, clearly intended to restrain victims.

Chains were strewn everywhere, giving the room an ominous and foreboding atmosphere. What kind of place was this? The smell assaulted his senses—blood, urine, and something else, something sickeningly familiar yet repulsive: arousal. His stomach churned in disgust at the realization of the horrors that had taken place within these walls. He attempted to summon his shadows, hoping for their familiar comfort and assistance, but nothing responded. Faebane. His heart sank at the realization of the poison's presence. Determination fueled his actions as he tried once more to pull on his restraints, but a piercing scream from outside the room froze him in place.

"Don't touch me!" Your voice, muffled yet unmistakable, sent panic coursing through him. Gritting his teeth, he ripped and tugged at his chains with renewed force. Outside, commotion ensued, accompanied by the creaking of a door. The sounds of struggle intensified, punctuated by a sharp slap that echoed through the room, causing Azriel's eyes to narrow in anger. "She damn well bit me," someone exclaimed amid the chaos. More noise followed, and then the door swung open fully, allowing light to seep into the room as several figures stumbled in, three of them carrying your thrashing form. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he took in your distressed state. You were cursing at them, fighting back with every bit of strength you could still muster. His eyes quickly swept over you from across the room as they threw you onto the table with a force that elicited a loud crack.

His heart stopped then. Where were your fighting leathers? What sick place was this? You were dressed in a white, very sheer and drenched dress that ended just above your knees. One of them grabbed your thigh forcefully, and he saw red. Screaming at them with a hoarse voice, Azriel struggled against his restraints, his muscles straining against the chains binding him to the ground. "Leave her alone, you bastards!" he roared, his voice echoing in the chamber. But his cries fell on deaf ears as they continued their assault on you, their intentions horrifyingly clear. One of the many males in the room laughed at Azriel's futile threats.

"Don't worry, Shadowsinger, your time will come," he taunted, his voice dripping with malice. Azriel clenched his jaw, his frustration mounting at his inability to protect you. As they chained you to the table, Azriel's panic surged. Your hands were bound together above your head, your legs hanging over the edge of the table and spread, tied to each leg. The sight sent a surge of fury coursing through him. "What is this? What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice thick with rage and desperation. But his questions were met with only sinister chuckles from the assailants.

Your eyes met Azriel's, and something washed over your features—a mixture of desperation and fear. "Please," you choked out, your voice trembling with emotion, "I beg you, not in front of him." Azriel's heart clenched at your plea, his gaze filled with anguish and determination. Despite his restraints, he struggled against the chains binding him, his muscles straining with the effort. "I won't let them touch you," he vowed, his voice laced with fierce resolve. Though powerless to act, his eyes conveyed a silent promise. The one who had spoken earlier chuckled darkly as the others moved to silence you, advancing with a gag. Your head thrashed around in a desperate attempt to fend them off.

Your body trembled, chest heaving, the wet white dress clinging to your form like a second skin, barely concealing anything. It left little to the imagination, the cold causing your nipples to harden as you fought against them, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Your black wings, a stark contrast against the white fabric, remained spread out behind you, a symbol of your strength and defiance even in this vulnerable state.

Azriel's heart twisted with anguish as he watched their hands on your wings, holding you down, causing you to shiver and writhe even more. A soft whine and gasp escaped you involuntarily, the sound tearing at his soul. Fury contorted Azriel's face as he snarled at them, his anger palpable. "Dare to touch her again, and I will cut your hands off," he growled, his voice dripping with venom. But his threats were met with mocking laughter from the group, their disdain evident in their sneers.

"How would you manage that chained to the ground?" one of them taunted, their words dripping with cruelty. The group, consisting of about ten males and some females, settled a little farther away, some taking seats while others remained standing beside you. Azriel's rage burned hotter at their mockery, his muscles tensing with the urge to break free and unleash his wrath upon them. Your chest heaved, teeth sinking into the cloth they had used to gag you as you struggled against their restraint. Seeking solace in Azriel's unwavering gaze amidst the chaos surrounding you, your eyes locked onto his. "You see, we were kind of growing bored of watching High Fae," the male spoke again, his tone laced with malice. He was tall, fatter than the others, with grey hair and a posture exuding arrogance. Confusion flickered between you and Azriel as you listened. "You still haven't figured out what we do?"

Azriel's anger burned fiercely as he glared at them, his fists clenched in impotent rage. The male continued, revealing their twisted motives. They watched prisoners engage in sexual acts or forced themselves upon them, all while testing out new weapons, torture devices, and potions. They reveled in the power they wielded over their captives. "And when we found out the High Lord of the Night Court sent two Illyrians after us?" The fat, grey-haired man sneered, his voice filled with twisted excitement. "Well, well, it seemed like we're in for quite the treat. Illyrians are known for their stamina and prowess after all."

"You two especially are a treat to look at," the male leered, his gaze lingering on your exposed form with undisguised lust. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but anger burned brighter in your eyes as you glared at him. "Rumor has it," he began, circling around the table you were strapped onto, his voice dripping with malicious intent, "that Illyrian wings are very sensitive." He punctuated his words with a sinister smile, sending a chill down your spine. Azriel's eyes widened with horror as he watched the man's dirty hands trail over the delicate membrane of your wings.

A growl rumbled deep in his throat, but he remained trapped, his muscles tensed with the urge to break free and tear the man limb from limb. You couldn't suppress an embarrassed moan as the man's fingers grazed over a particularly sensitive spot on your wing, the sensation sending shivers down your spine and igniting a blush on your cheeks. Illyrians were notoriously protective of their wings; allowing someone else to touch them was considered a significant display of trust. The violation of this boundary filled you with a sense of vulnerability and violation, intensifying your anger and humiliation in the face of such blatant disrespect. The dirty male's gaze shifted back to Azriel, lifting Truthteller in his hand, a cruel smirk playing on his lips as he brandished Azriel's own dagger.

"You see, Shadowsinger, we've got ourselves a little experiment planned," he said, his voice oozing with malice. Azriel's eyes narrowed, a cold fury simmering beneath the surface as he listened intently. "We've got this new love potion we've been itching to try out," the man continued, his tone sickeningly cheerful. "And we thought, what better way to test it than on our favorite pair of Illyrians? "Azriel's shock was evident, his voice laced with disbelief. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, but we are," the man chuckled darkly. "You and the lady here," he gestured toward you with a lewd grin, "will be our little test-subjects. One of you will get the pleasure of enjoying its effects firsthand." Azriel's heart sank at the realization of what they were proposing. He couldn't bring himself to do something so violating to you, not like this. Though he had harbored certain thoughts about you, this was beyond anything he had ever imagined. "I will not do that to her," he declared through gritted teeth, his voice laced with defiance and disgust. The look on your face was difficult to decipher, a mixture of fear, anger, and betrayal evident in your tear-filled eyes.

As someone approached with a syringe filled with a blue liquid, your breath caught in your throat. The cold sting of the needle piercing your skin sent shivers down your spine, your body trembling with a sense of dread. The male's smirk widened as he used Truthteller to cut the dress from your body, exposing your breasts and leaving you vulnerable and exposed before their leering eyes. The effects of the potion began to take hold, distorting your senses and leaving you in a state of heightened arousal. Your pupils dilated, your chest heaving with each ragged breath, and your legs trembling beneath you as the drug coursed through your veins.

"Lorsh," the man called for another male, summoning him to join their twisted game. As Lorsh stepped forward, rising from his chair with predatory intent, a sense of dread washed over you. "If our Shadowsinger won't do the honor, you can have her," the man declared, his words sending a chill down your spine. No, this couldn't be happening. You shook your head slightly, trying to fight against the effects of the potion as your gaze turned to Azriel once more, silently pleading for him to intervene.

Azriel's heart clenched with desperation as he watched the scene unfolding before him. He couldn't bear to see you subjected to such degradation, such violation. With a ferocity that echoed off the walls, Azriel's voice cut through the tense atmosphere. "Don't you dare touch her! I swear, I'll break your hands before I let you lay another finger on her!" His words dripped with a protective fury, his eyes ablaze with a primal instinct to shield you from any harm.

"I'll do it," he declared, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and resolve, "but not at the expense of her dignity. I'll be the one." A sickening delight spread across the male's face as he licked his lips, relishing in the twisted power play unfolding before him. With a gesture, he commanded another to throw the key for the arm chains to Azriel, a malicious grin playing on his lips as he watched the exchange.

As Azriel caught the key, the man retreated, his voice dripping with a sickening satisfaction. "You see, these chains on your legs will keep you tethered to this table," he clarified, his tone filled with sadistic amusement. "But don't get any ideas about getting close enough to kill us. You won't succeed." Azriel's jaw clenched with frustration at the limitations of his movements, but his resolve remained unbroken. As Azriel hurried towards you, relief flickered in your eyes as you locked gazes once more. Stopping in front of you, Azriel's heart hammered in his chest as he faced the daunting task ahead. His mind raced with possibilities, seeking a way to ensure your safety amidst the chaos surrounding you. "You may do as you please with her," the male declared, his voice dripping with malicious intent.

Azriel's heart sank at the man's words, grappling with the limitations imposed upon him. "Can I untie her?" he asked, his voice tinged with desperation. If he could free you from the table, maybe you could fight your way out of this nightmare. If unchained, you could reach a weapon and turn the tide.

But his hopes were dashed as the man's cruel decree fell upon his ears. "No, you can free her from the table if you must, but you cannot completely unbind her hands," the man stated, his words a death sentence to Azriel's hopes. "They will stay tied together." The look on Azriel's face was one of pure sorrow.

Determination surged through him as Azriel clenched his jaw, bracing himself to make this ordeal as bearable as possible for you. With steady hands, he reached for the gag, untying it and freeing your mouth from its suffocating restraint. Next, he carefully loosened the straps that held your arms and legs in place, his movements deliberate and gentle.

As he brushed against your skin, a jolt of electricity coursed through him at the sinful sound of your moan. His heart clenched with both guilt and longing as the realization of the drug's effects washed over him. “I’m sorry.” Your apology only added to the turmoil raging within him, a bleak reminder of the violation of your consent. His voice trembled with uncertainty as Azriel locked eyes with you, his own turmoil mirrored in your gaze. "Is this okay?" he asked, his words barely more than a whisper, filled with a desperate plea for reassurance amidst the chaos. Your nod was barely perceptible, accompanied by a whimper that tugged at Azriel's heartstrings. "I don't mind if it's you," you whispered, your voice trembling with vulnerability and trust.

Azriel's breath caught in his throat at your words, relief and distress flooding through him. His gaze lingered over your exposed form, desire and guilt warring within him. Despite the circumstances, he couldn't deny the allure of your beauty, the vulnerability you displayed beneath him. Guilt washed over him as arousal stirred, his body responding to the primal urge.

Swallowing hard, he fought to rein in his need, guiding your hands from above your head to rest on your stomach. As he intertwined his fingers with yours, he felt your whine of anticipation reverberate through him, igniting a heat between your spread legs. "Look at me," he murmured softly, seeking to soothe you. "I'm here," he whispered, filled with reassurance. "I'll keep you safe."

But beneath the reassurances lay desire. "I'll make you forget they're watching," he promised, leaning closer, his breath hot against your skin. "In this moment, it's just you and me," he continued, a promise of intimacy amidst the chaos. "I'll show you pleasure beyond anything you've known." Each word dripped with longing. "I want to make it better for you," he murmured, his voice husky with desire as he leaned closer, his lips grazing your earlobe. "Tell me what you need."

As your body trembled beneath him, a surge of arousal coursed through Azriel at your vulnerability. "Touch me, please," you pleaded, your voice shaky with need. His heart clenched with longing as he resisted his own desires, focusing instead on easing your discomfort.

"It hurts, Azriel," you whispered, anguish and need evident in your voice. His own arousal forgotten, he concentrated solely on comforting you. "I'll make it better," he vowed, determination lacing his voice as he sought to ease your suffering and fulfill your desperate longing for pleasure.

Tears streamed down your flushed cheeks as you squeezed his hand, seeking comfort. "I'm sorry, this is all my fault," you whimpered, self-blame and anguish evident in your trembling voice and quivering lip. Azriel's heart ached at your words, the weight of your guilt heavy upon him. "No, it's not your fault," he murmured softly, his voice tender as he wiped away your tears. "None of this is your fault."

Ignoring the sickening gaze of the others, Azriel clenched his jaw with fury. With a deep breath, he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, his voice low and intense. "I will end them," he growled softly, promising to protect you at any cost. "Every last one of them." As he felt his powers surging back, an ancient energy thrumming beneath his skin, he knew he had to bide his time, to wait for the perfect moment to strike.

Leaning back slightly, his gaze locked with yours, a smoldering heat burning in his eyes. "How do you want me?" he murmured, his voice husky with desire as he sought to give you control in a situation where you had none. "Az..Need you" Face constricted in pure longing you sucked in your bottom lip. With a thoughtful expression, he trailed his finger down your trembling form, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you both. Lower and lower he traced, until he reached the boundary where the drenched fabric of your dress began again.

"Here?" he murmured, his voice husky as he gazed over your pubic bone, his eyes smoldering with heat. Your mewl of pleasure echoed in the air, the sensation of his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. With a whimper of agreement, you nodded eagerly, your face contorted in pure longing as you looked up at him through thick lashes. "Yes," you whispered, your voice barely more than a breathy whimper, your body writhing under his touch as you surrendered yourself to him.

"Fine," he muttered, lust thick in his voice as he gave in to fervent longing. With a swift, almost savage motion, he ripped the last bit of the dress open, a low rumble escaping his throat. Your yelp mingled with a gasp of pleasure as your body was fully exposed to him, the sudden rush of sensation sending shivers down your spine. The air crackled with electricity as Azriel's gaze swept over your exposed form, his eyes dark as he drank in the sight of you.

Azriel's mind swirled with a tumult of conflicting emotions as he hovered over you, his fingers tracing patterns of guilt and desire on your trembling skin. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was responsible for the predicament you found yourself in. If only he had been more attentive, more cautious, none of this would have happened. But even as he berated himself for his mistakes, a dark, twisted part of him reveled in the power he held over you now.

As he watched you quiver under his touch, he felt a surge of arousal mingled with self-loathing wash over him. He was sick, twisted, and yet he couldn't deny the rush of pleasure that coursed through him at the sight of you laid bare before him.

Groaning in frustration, he narrowed his eyes, his resolve faltering momentarily before he forced himself to continue. Tracing a finger lower, he felt the tension in your body as you clenched your thighs, seeking relief from the overwhelming sensations that consumed you. But Azriel wouldn't allow it, not yet. With a growl, he forced your legs back open, his gaze fixed on your glistening core, evidence of your arousal under the influence of their vile drug. Deliberately, he brushed a finger through your folds, eliciting an intense reaction from you. Your body flinched, your core clenching around nothing but air as pleasure and pain collided within you.

A needy whine echoed through the room, reverberating off the walls as you squeezed your eyes shut in desperate longing. Azriel's eyes widened at the sound, his heart clenching with desire and fury. "Please, more. It hurts," you pleaded again, your voice thick with need. His jaw clenched as he fought the urge to unleash his fury upon those who had brought you to this state. You were suffering because of their sick, twisted games, and he swore to himself that they would pay dearly for it.

"I'm here, love," he cooed softly, his voice soothing. With a lazy motion, he began to draw circles on your sensitive bud, his touch both tender and electrifying. Finally, unable to resist any longer, he dragged two of his fingers down again, sinking them into your awaiting heat. A hiss escaped his lips as he felt you clench around his fingers immediately, your core desperately trying to draw them in. "Azriel," your voice left your lips in a sinful moan, sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine. He felt himself twitch in his pants at the way you said his name.

Picking up his pace, he arched his fingers, pumping them deeper. Unable to resist the intoxicating scent and taste of you, he leaned forward, carefully extending his tongue as he licked up from where his fingers were buried deep within you, moving steadily up to your sensitive bud before sucking on it with fervent hunger. A deep, guttural groan escaped his throat as the taste of you flooded his senses. You were on the brink of release, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you whimpered and pleaded for more. Each flick of Azriel's tongue, each harsh suck on your bundle of nerves sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your trembling form.

When his mouth left your clit after one final, intense suck, you heard a groan from the corner of the room. Azriel's keen senses immediately picked up on your movement as you started to turn your head toward the source of the sound, but his other hand, not the one still buried deep inside you, found your face, forcing you to look back at him.

His expression was stern, his gaze piercing as he locked eyes with you. "Eyes on me," he ordered, his voice commanding yet filled with a tenderness that belied the intensity of the moment. "Watch as I make you come." With a firm yet gentle touch, he guided your gaze back to his, his eyes burning with a fierce determination to pleasure you beyond measure. And as you obediently focused on him, the weight of the room and its twisted audience faded into the background.

You watched Azriel with rapt attention as his fingers worked wonders inside you, driving you to the edge of ecstasy with each skillful thrust. Your hips instinctively met his movements, grinding against his hand in a desperate quest for release. Despite the intensity of the moment, Azriel's concentration remained focused elsewhere.

His shadows slithered through the room, silent and deadly, creeping toward their unsuspecting victims. One shadow had already retrieved Truthteller, waiting patiently for its master's command. As you soared to the peak of pleasure, your body convulsing with the force of your climax, you released a torrent of ecstasy, squirting all over Azriel's hand and leathers.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice a low growl of satisfaction as he allowed you to use his fingers to ride out your orgasm. But as you basked in the afterglow, the lust in Azriel's eyes gave way to a chilling darkness. With deliberate slowness, he withdrew his fingers from you, straightening his back as he met your gaze. Parting his lips, he slowly sucked the remnants of your arousal from his fingers, cleaning them off with a deliberate thoroughness.

And then, in the blink of an eye, he unleashed his wrath upon the twisted individuals in the room. His shadows surged forward, wrapping around the unsuspecting males, snapping their bones with lethal precision. Some shadows slithered into their lungs, suffocating them with tendrils of darkness. Truthteller gleamed in his hand as he swiftly dispatched nearly all of them, their bodies falling lifeless to the ground within seconds. But he saved the one who had dared to touch your wings earlier for last. As the man's eyes widened in fear, Azriel loomed over him, his Siphons glowing bright with unleashed power.

"You filthy male," Azriel's voice was ice-cold, his words dripping with contempt as he confronted the perpetrator. "Enjoy watching helpless Fae get violated?" With lightning speed, he caught the man's wrists, his shadows swirling around them as the room was consumed by darkness.

For each finger he severed with Truthteller, Azriel delivered a damning sentence. "This one," he intoned with chilling precision, "is for touching her wings."

“This one," he hissed with lethal intent, "is for the innocence you defiled." The blade sliced through flesh and bone effortlessly, leaving a trail of severed digits in its wake.

With each finger severed, Azriel's voice grew colder, more menacing. "And this one," he continued, his tone dripping with venom, "is for the fear you inflicted." The man's agonized screams filled the room, mingling with the sound of metal meeting flesh.

As the bloodied fingers littered the ground, Azriel's gaze bore into the man's soul, his eyes ablaze with righteous fury. "Remember this," he spat, his voice a low, ominous rumble, "for every drop of her pain, you will pay tenfold." Azriel's grip tightened around Truthteller as he gazed down at the mutilated figure before him. With a swift, calculated motion, he brought the blade down once more, severing the man's remaining hand with grim determination. "Shame that I cannot take my time with you," he muttered, his voice devoid of mercy, as he plunged Truthteller through the man's throat.

While the male gurgled and choked on his own blood, Azriel withdrew the blade with a steely resolve. With a final, lethal thrust, he ensured the man's demise, his shadows already dispersing to scout the building for any remaining threats and to locate proper attire for you both. Breathing heavily, Azriel attempted to quell the raging storm of fury within him, the splatter of blood marring his face and clothes serving as a grim reminder of the savagery he had unleashed. In that moment, he longed for the confines of his torture chamber in Hewn City, where he could have taken his time with these vile creatures.

A soft cry pierced the air, drawing Azriel's attention. With a start, he turned to find you on the ground, trembling on all fours, the remnants of your once-white dress clinging to your form. With swift, purposeful strides, he approached you, his expression unreadable as he assessed your condition. Blood and tears mingled on your face, your trembling form a testament to the horrors you had endured.

Kneeling beside you, Azriel reached out a hand, his touch surprisingly gentle as he brushed aside strands of hair plastered to your sweat-soaked skin. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with an undercurrent of concern. Despite the fury still raging within him, a flicker of something akin to tenderness sparked in his eyes as he gazed upon you.

Without waiting for your response, he moved to free you from the remnants of the torn dress and chains, his movements efficient but careful. As the fabric fell away, revealing the bruises and welts marring your skin, a surge of anger welled up within him once more. "I'll get you out of here," he vowed, his tone firm.

With a deft motion, he wrapped his cloak around you that his shadows had brought, shielding you from prying eyes and offering a semblance of protection against the chill of the night. "Hold on to me," he instructed, his voice commanding yet oddly comforting. "We're leaving this place, and I won't let anyone harm you further."

Rising to his feet, Azriel gathered you into his arms, holding you close as he carried you from the chamber of horrors. As you clung to him, he swore to himself that he would never let anyone hurt you again.

Azriel winnowed you to the inn they had booked a room in three days prior, the exertion causing him to stumble slightly upon arrival. Despite his weariness, he carried you with care to the bathroom, settling you down before running a bath. Your silence weighed heavily in the air, your gaze fixed ahead as if lost in the depths of your own thoughts.

"I'm so sorry you had to endure this," you finally spoke, the words heavy with emotion.

Rushing to your side, Azriel gently cradled your face in his hands, his heart aching at the sight of your pain. "No, love, it's me who should be apologizing," he murmured, disbelief coloring his tone. "I failed to protect you, and I let those monsters lay a hand on you."

Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears as you shook your head, a soft sigh escaping your lips. "It wasn't your fault," you insisted, your voice barely above a whisper. "We were both in that situation together." Leaning in, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I promise to make it up to you," he vowed, his voice laced with determination. "Starting with getting you cleaned up and taking care of you."

Feeling the lingering effects of the drug, you sank into the warm water with Azriel's assistance, trying to hide the discomfort that still gnawed at your senses. Despite your efforts, the telltale signs of your distress were evident to him, your body tensing at the slightest touch, your skin still flushed with fever.

Azriel noticed your unease, his brows furrowing in concern as he observed your strained movements. Gently, he reached out, his touch feather-light as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead. "Easy, love," he murmured soothingly, his voice a soft reassurance. "I'm here with you. Just relax, and let the water ease away the pain." Though his words offered comfort, you couldn't shake the lingering discomfort that coursed through your body. Despite your best efforts to hide it, Azriel's keen gaze didn't miss a thing, his eyes filled with empathy as he watched you struggle to find solace in the water's embrace.

With a gentle hand, he began to massage your shoulders, his touch tender yet firm as he worked to alleviate the tension that gripped your muscles. Gradually, you felt the knots begin to loosen, the warmth of the water seeping into your bones and offering a fleeting sense of relief. As Azriel massaged your shoulders, you couldn't suppress a slight whimper, the tension in your body betraying the pain that still lingered within you. Heat flooded your cheeks as you immediately apologized, feeling embarrassed by your body's involuntary response.

Azriel's movements faltered slightly at the sound, his senses heightened by the scent of your arousal that filled the air. Swallowing hard, he fought to keep his own desires in check, the tension between you palpable in the confined space of the bathroom.

You stuttered slightly as you tried to explain, your words coming out in fragmented whispers. "I'm sorry... I just..." Another whimper escaped your lips as you curled into yourself, pulling your legs to your chest in a feeble attempt to shield yourself from the discomfort that still plagued you. "It still hurts."

Azriel paused for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in as he contemplated his next move. When he spoke again, his voice was raspy and deep, tinged with sincerity. "Do you want me to help?" Your eyes widened at the question, your body trembling slightly as you shook your head. "Please don't do this because you pity me," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper.

Furrowing his brow, Azriel leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking with yours. "Believe me," he murmured, his tone firm and unwavering. "Me fucking you would have nothing to do with pity." His words hung heavy in the air, filled with conviction and a promise of something more profound than mere sympathy.  As you met his gaze, your pupils blown and cheeks flushed, uncertainty still lingered in your eyes. Azriel noticed, and in that moment of vulnerability, he bared his own desires to you.

"If you had asked, I would have fucked you right there on that table," he confessed, his voice low and filled with raw desire. "No hesitation. No remorse. Just us." He paused, his gaze intense as he continued, his words tinged with a hint of  need. "And I would have taken my sweet time, making you forget any other male you've ever been with. I would have tasted every inch of you, every drop of your arousal, until you were begging for release."

He swallowed hard, his eyes burning into yours. "And afterwards," he added, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "I would have savored the sight of you, laying there, fucked out and trembling, as I licked my cum from your cunt."  As he voiced his desires, your body responded instinctively, a low moan escaping your lips, anticipation coursing through you. The tension between you grew thick. In the heat of the moment, you couldn't resist expressing your own desires, your words dripping with longing and want. "I want you, Azriel," you murmured, your voice laced with need. "I want you to fuck me until I can't think straight, until I'm begging you to stop."

Without hesitation, your lips crashed into his, a desperate hunger igniting between you. The kiss was fierce, fueled by longing and desire. You surged from the bath, water splashing around you, and pressed your wet, naked body against his chest. He groaned into the kiss, the sound vibrating between your lips. Prying your lips open with his, his tongue ventured forth into your mouth, exploring every inch of you, as if he was trying to commit it to memory. "Shit, you have no idea how much you infuriate me," his voice rumbled deep in his chest. He pulls you from the bath then, hiking you up in his arms, hands on your thighs as you wrap your legs around his middle. "How effortlessly you occupy so much space in my mind."

As he carries you, your bodies pressed tightly together, Azriel's breath comes in ragged gasps, his eyes dark with desire as he gazes into yours. "Gods, the restraint it took to keep myself from you," he confesses, his voice thick with emotion. "Every time I looked at you, on missions, during training... I wanted nothing more than to rip the clothes off your body and fuck you right then and there, for everyone to see."

His admission hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the heat of your desire. You can feel the intensity of his longing radiating from him, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you both.

"And you, my love," he continues, his voice husky with desire, "the strength you possess, the way you could best me in one-on-one combat training... It drove me mad with desire, the urge to ravish you, to claim you as mine."

With each word, his voice grows more fervent, his grip on you tightening as he carries you toward the bed. "I couldn't bear the thought of hurting you," he admits, his tone laced with regret. "So I distanced myself, buried my desires deep within, but now..." He trails off, his eyes locking with yours, a hunger burning within them that mirrors your own.

"Now," he whispers, his voice barely more than a breathy murmur, "I can't hold back any longer. I need you, more than I've ever needed anything in my life." And with that, he lays you gently on the bed, his gaze never leaving yours as he begins to shed his own clothes, his movements urgent and desperate.

As he discards his pants, his cock springs free, slapping against his toned stomach. You gasp at the sight, salivating at the thought of wrapping your lips around the silky skin of his member. Crawling forward on the bed, you meet him at the edge where he still stands, your hunger evident in your gaze as you look up at him.

"I know I'm still influenced by the drug, and I'm incredibly aroused. I can practically feel myself dripping onto the bedsheets right now," you confess. His eyes darken at your admission, wandering over your form kneeling before him, lingering on your dripping core. "But believe me when I tell you that I have fantasized about this moment so many times, Azriel."

Biting your bottom lip slightly, you part your lips shortly after. "I want to pleasure you, to taste your beautiful cock, feel it glide down my throat, and I want you to use my mouth." God, your shameless words cause a faint blush to creep up his cheeks, his dark hair still disheveled from the day's events.

His cock twitches in anticipation as you confess your desires, your words sending a shiver of anticipation down his spine. "I want you, Azriel," you continue, your voice low and sultry, "I need to taste you, to feel you fill my mouth and fuck me."

His own arousal surges to new heights at your shameless admission, his gaze locked on your lips, parted and inviting. "Then take me," he growls, his voice rough with need, "show me how much you want it." And with that, he guides himself to your waiting lips, his cock throbbing with anticipation as he presses against your tongue.

As you lower your mouth towards him, you flatten your tongue, tracing a strong strip up his long shaft, relishing the taste and texture of his skin. Your movements are deliberate, teasing, as you kitten-lick at his throbbing head, savoring every twitch and shudder that runs through his body.

Opening your mouth further, you eagerly suck him into your warmth, feeling him harden even more within your mouth. Your lips form a tight seal around him as you take him deeper, inch by inch, until he hits the back of your throat. You relax your throat muscles, taking him in completely, reveling in the feeling of fullness and the primal sounds of pleasure that escape him.

Your tongue dances around him, swirling and caressing, as you bob your head rhythmically, matching the pace of his rising desire. His hands find their way into your hair, threading through the strands as he guides your movements, urging you on with gentle pressure.

Each suction sends a wave of pleasure coursing through him, and you drink in every drop of his arousal, your own desire building with each passing moment. You're lost in the intoxicating rhythm of give and take, completely consumed by the need to pleasure him, to taste him, to feel him pulsing against your tongue.

As your lips wrap around him, Azriel grits his teeth, his eyes locked on you with a fierce intensity. He watches intently as you graze your teeth over the vein along his shaft, a deliberate tease that elicits a low growl from deep within his chest. He knows you're testing him, pushing him to the edge, and he can feel the tension coiling tighter with each passing second.

"You take me so well," he grunts through clenched teeth, his voice strained with desire. "Sucking my cock like that, driving me insane."

But as you continue to tease him, grazing your teeth and tongue over his sensitive skin, he feels himself reaching his limit. With a warning growl, he tightens his grip on your hair, his voice laced with a hint of desperation. "Keep teasing me like that, and I'll snap. I won't be able to hold back."

Your groan around his cock, a mischievous glint in your eyes, pushes him over the edge. With a growl of frustration, he releases you with a pop, watching as you smile innocently at him before flattening your tongue to lick up his shaft again. "You little minx," he breathes, his tone a mixture of frustration and desire. "You brought this upon yourself."

With that, he loses control, gripping your throat tightly as he uses your mouth for his own pleasure. His hips snap harshly, fucking your throat with an urgency that leaves you gasping for air. He can feel your gag reflex kicking in, but he doesn't relent, pushing you to your limits as he drives himself closer to the edge. "That's it, princess," he speaks through gritted teeth, his voice strained with need. "Take it all. You know you want it."

As he only pulls out when your eyes well with tears, gagging around him again, your jaw slack and drooling all over your chin, a string of saliva connects your mouth still to the tip of his cock as he retreats, chest heaving. He caresses your cheek, his touch gentle yet possessive, before dipping down to grab your chin with his thumb.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper as he gazes down at you. "So hungry for my cock. Bet your cunt is already waiting for me to bury myself inside it."

A whimper escapes your lips at his words, and he smirks down at you, the corners of his lips curling into a wicked grin. "Open your mouth again," he commands, guiding your head to lean back a bit as he slips his cock back into your warm mouth. He moans sinfully as he sheathes his cock into your willing mouth, the sensation sending shivers down his spine.

"Knees apart," he orders, his voice firm yet laced with desire, and you obey without hesitation, shifting to part your legs. You gasp around his length when you feel a cool touch on your thighs, sliding up your body. Your eyes widen in surprise when you realize he is using his shadows on you, and his smirk grows wider.

Your breath hitches as you feel friction between your legs, the shadows brushing against your clit, sliding through your wet heat. "You filthy thing," he chuckles lowly, his voice a dark whisper. "You like that," he states, groaning when your moan sends vibrations through his cock, intensifying the pleasure coursing through him. Your drugged form, heightened senses and all, nearly reaches the peak of ecstasy when one of his hands falls to knead one of your breasts and a shadow brushes over one of your wings softly. With a gasp, you pull back, your body shaking with need.

"Fuck, Azriel," you pant, your voice laced with desperation. "I need you inside of me." A wicked grin spreads across his lips as he looks down at you, his eyes smoldering with desire. "You want me to fill you up, don't you?" he growls, his voice dripping with raw lust. "You want my cock stretching you out, pounding into you until you can't take it anymore."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, desire coursing through you like wildfire. "Yes," you whimper, your voice barely more than a needy whisper. "Please, Azriel, I need you to fuck me hard." He leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, "I'm going to make you scream my name, darling. You're going to beg for more, beg for me to never stop."

He lifts you slightly, guiding you as he turns you around, bending you over until you're on all fours, your wings fluttering with excitement. With a hand placed between your wings on your spine, he presses down, arching your back.

"God, you're gorgeous," he murmurs, admiring the sight before him. Using his knee, he nudges your legs apart, positioning himself behind you. "You're absolutely soaked."

Collecting some of your slick with his cock, he slides through your wet cunt, coating himself in your arousal. Your loud whine fills the air as you feel him grind into you. "Azriel," you moan his name, gasping when a harsh slap lands on your right ass cheek, leaving a handprint behind. Your pussy pulses with desire as you try to rub yourself against his hardness. "Fuck me," you seethe, your voice dripping with need.

He obliges, plunging into you with a force that sends your body reeling forward. You curse loudly as he inches deeper, until he's completely buried in your cunt, hitting your cervix. Azriel twitches at the tightness around him. "Shit, you're so tight," he groans, the intensity of the moment overwhelming both of you.

With a primal need driving him, Azriel begins to move within you, each thrust growing more relentless than the last. His hips collide with yours in a rhythm that's both punishing and intoxicating, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing through the room.

Your body responds eagerly to his every move, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor. Your moans fill the air, a symphony of desire that spurs him on further. Azriel's grip tightens on your hips as he sets a punishing pace, his cock delving deep into your slick heat with each powerful thrust.

The sensation is overwhelming, pleasure coursing through your veins like fire. Your nails dig into the sheets as you surrender to the ecstasy of his touch, your body arching against him in a desperate bid for more. As Azriel's thrusts grow more fervent, he groans, his voice strained with desire. "You feel so good," he pants, his breath hot against your skin. "You take me so well."

You respond with a needy whimper, your fingers clawing at the sheets beneath you. "Harder," you plead, your voice barely more than a breathy whisper. "Please, Azriel, fuck me harder." He grunts in response, his movements becoming more forceful as he drives into you with unrestrained passion. "Like this?" he growls, his voice rough with need as he increases the tempo of his thrusts.

You can only moan in response, the pleasure overwhelming as he takes you to new heights of ecstasy. "Yes," you gasp, your voice trembling with desire. "Just like that." With each powerful thrust, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion, the pleasure building to a crescendo that threatens to consume you. "I'm close," you whimper, your voice filled with urgency. "So close, Azriel."

He grunts in response, his own release drawing near. "Come for me," he urges, his voice low and husky as he drives into you with unbridled passion. "Let go, my love. Let me feel you." With a cry of ecstasy, you shatter beneath him, waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. "Azriel!" you gasp, your voice echoing in the room as you succumb to the overwhelming sensation.

"I'm not done with you," he coos, withdrawing from you with a determined gleam in his eyes. In one fluid motion, he shifts positions, effortlessly lifting you into his arms as if you weigh nothing. "I need to look at you while I make you come again." Your breath catches in your throat as Azriel's commanding voice fills the room, sending shivers down your spine. You cling to him as he effortlessly lifts you, feeling weightless in his embrace, your legs draped over his shoulders.

The sensation of being held by him, of being completely at his mercy, ignites a fire within you as he plunges into you with a primal hunger. With each powerful thrust, you cling to him desperately, your nails digging into his skin as you surrender yourself to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins.

You gasp, your voice echoing in the room as he drives into you with unrelenting force. "Please, Azriel, don't stop." He grunts in response, his movements growing more frenzied as he takes you to the brink of ecstasy once more. "I won't," he growls, his voice thick with lust as he pistons into you with intensity. In the heat of the moment, Azriel's movements become more frenzied, his muscles straining as he drives into you with an unyielding passion. Your body quivers with each powerful thrust, the intensity of his gaze locking you in a mesmerizing trance.

The room swirls with shadows, dancing in a frenetic display of their master's passion. Beads of sweat form on Azriel's forehead, his brows furrowed in concentration as he maintains eye contact with you, his hazel eyes ablaze with desire.

Curses escape his lips as he nears the edge, his rhythm relentless as he repeatedly strikes that sweet spot deep within you. Your head falls back in ecstasy, your entire being consumed by the raw intensity of his thrusts, the sound of his balls slapping against your skin adding to the symphony of pleasure.

With a primal scream, you climax again, your essence gushing around him as you convulse in ecstasy. Wetness cascades down his legs as you drown him in the waves of your release. When you lock eyes with him again, you see the turmoil reflected in his gaze, the desire for release warring with the need to control.

As he begins to slow, ready to withdraw, you refuse to let him pull away. Your voice cuts through the haze of passion, commanding and insistent. "No," you declare, your tone leaving no room for argument. "I want you to fill me. I want every last drop of you."

A mix of desire and determination flashes in Azriel's eyes as he succumbs to your command. With a growl, he thrusts into you one final time, burying himself deep within your core as he spills his essence into you with abandon.

Azriel's breath is ragged against your skin, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his release as he continues to grind into you, riding out the waves of his orgasm. You both pant heavily, lost in the intoxicating embrace of each other's warmth.

In the quiet of the room, the steady ticking of time seems to slow, the rhythm of your hearts gradually synchronizing as you revel in the aftermath of your passionate union. With each passing moment, the remnants of the drug that once clouded your senses dissipate, leaving you both in a state of serene clarity. Suddenly, Rhys's urgent voice breaks through the tranquility, invading Azriel's mind with a sense of urgency. Azriel's grip tightens around your hip instinctively, his focus momentarily pulled away from the blissful moment you share. "Brother, where are you? Is everything fine?" Rhys's concern reverberates in his mental voice, a stark reminder of the dangers that still loom beyond the sanctuary of your embrace.

Azriel's response is curt, his mental voice tinged with irritation as he struggles to maintain his composure amidst the lingering ecstasy. "Yes," he confirms, the word clipped with impatience as he tries to convey his need for privacy.

Relief floods Rhys's voice at the reassurance, but Azriel can sense his brother's lingering worry. "Gods, what happened, I wasn't able to reach you," Rhys presses, his concern palpable even through their mental connection. Azriel's annoyance bubbles to the surface, his desire to savor the aftermath of your passion momentarily overshadowed by the intrusion of reality. With a low growl, he sends a brusque reply, his focus returning to the warmth of your body pressed against his. "I'm kind of busy right now, Rhys," he grumbles, his tone a mixture of irritation and longing as he tunes out the outside world, fully immersed in the intoxicating sensation of being buried deep inside you.

A brief pause follows Azriel's curt response, the tension in the mental connection palpable as Rhys gathers his thoughts. Then, with a hint of playful sarcasm, Rhys's voice echoes in Azriel's mind. "Ah, I see. Busy indeed," Rhys remarks, his tone laden with amusement and a touch of mischief, his words carrying a knowing undertone that hints at his awareness of Azriel's current state of affairs.

Azriel's jaw clenches slightly at the teasing remark, his irritation flickering momentarily before being replaced by a begrudging amusement. He shoots back a mental retort, his tone dry and laced with exasperation. "Do you mind? I'm in the middle of something here," he replies, a hint of playfulness seeping into his mental voice despite his attempt to maintain an air of annoyance.

Rhys's laughter rings in Azriel's mind, a warm and familiar sound that serves as a reminder of the unbreakable bond between them. "Carry on, brother,”

With a soft sigh, Azriel shifts his head, planting tender kisses along the curve of your neck, the warmth of his lips sending shivers down your spine. He hums softly against your skin, his movements deliberate and gentle as he relishes the intimacy of the moment. Pulling back slightly, he meets your gaze, a knowing look reflected in your eyes.

"Rhys?" you inquire, a hint of curiosity lacing your voice. Azriel's expression darkens slightly at the mention of his brother's name, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. "Yes, but I'd rather not have my brother's name on your lips while my cock is still buried deep inside your cunt," he replies, his voice low and husky, his gaze intense as he holds your gaze.

You chuckle softly at his response, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes as you playfully tease him. "Fair enough," you concede, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. Azriel's frown deepens momentarily before giving way to a smirk of his own.

He kisses you once more, his lips lingering against yours before he slides out of you, gently setting you back down on your feet. As you stand there together, still caught in the aftermath, you decide to address the elephant in the room. "This doesn't have to be a one-time thing, you know," you say, your voice soft but resolute, seeking clarity in the midst of the intimacy you've shared. Azriel meets your gaze, his expression serious yet filled with a hint of vulnerability.

"I don't want it to be," he responds, his voice a low murmur, his eyes locking with yours as he lays bare his desires and intentions. "Good," you state, a sense of satisfaction in your voice.

"Good," he echoes, a soft smile playing on his lips as he gazes at you.

You move on shaky legs, his hand enveloping yours as you make your way to the bathroom together. "Now, I really want to clean up," you state, casting a playful glance over your shoulder at him. "But there's room for two sets of wings in the tub."

His body responds immediately, his eyes darkening once again as he takes in the sway of your hips while you lead the way to the bathroom, a lingering gaze on your bare ass.

"We're not returning for another day. Something came up," he sends out to Rhys, already on your heels as you chase each other into the bath.

"Sure you do, brother," Rhys's voice comes through, laced with amusement. "Just don't forget she still has to fly back home."

The flight back home indeed turned out to be quite difficult.

[deartrent]

untold feelings — taa (pt. 1)

summary: you find yourself in a web of secrecy, long-suppressed desires and untold feelings within the buildings of liverpool fc, and it's bound to become a sticky situation

warnings: contains smut (18+, mdni)

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x fem!reader

notes: this is my first time writing smut and posting it, so i'm sorry if it's ass 😭 i'm thinking of adding more parts to this bc ive got some ideas cooking, but let me know what you guys think of this part first!

when you started your new job at liverpool fc as a player care officer, you had no idea what awaited you. all you knew was that you'd be in touch with the players most of the time; your main task literally being their first-line support for every- and anything they wanted and needed.

what you didn't expect though, was getting attached to one particular footballer. he was a man of little words, an introverted, closed off, at first seemingly "asshole"—though that presumption disappeared as you spoke to the guy more often. he was mysterious, a characteristic that ignited your interest in him in the first place. he wasn't your usual outgoing, witless and self-centered footballer, no, instead he kept to himself and only gave well-thought out answers. you tried your best to keep each interaction professional, especially when the news broke out of his new vice captain role, you vowed to not get involved with him, not wanting to be the reason that would put his new role in jeopardy.

you struggled though. the tension was there. you could feel it, he could feel it. if anyone else was in the room, they could feel it too. his eyes would bore into you as you typed away on your computer, logging the information he would give you, his eyes clearly attempting to get a message across. he had no shame in checking you out, scanning every part of your body, before his eyes would meet yours again, a mischievous smirk on his face as he sank further into his chair comfortably, his arms lazily draped along the armrests, his legs spread out.

after a few more appointments and conversations, you noticed him coming out of his shell more. there was no denying that the dynamic between you guys shifted, from a strictly professional one, to a more easygoing and flirty one. when you'd pass each other in the hallways, trent would flash you a cheeky smile, accompanied by a quick wink he made sure only you could see. if the coast was clear, he'd quickly poke your side as he passed, causing you to burst out in giggles. he'd always make sure to pass by your office as well, before heading to training, making sure to wish you a good morning or even bringing you a coffee if time allowed him to.

you enjoyed the secretive thing you had going on with trent, adding a tinge of excitement to your days.

the annual club dinner was the first time you and trent would see each other outside of a professional setting. his eyes never left you that night, observing your every move while simultaneously networking with the people around him, waiting for a moment to catch you alone.

"took you long enough," you joked as you watched him approach you, while you stood at the bar, waiting for your next drink. "were you waiting for me then?" his crossed arms rested on the bar, as he faced forward, allowing you to admire his side profile, "maybe," you shrugged, thanking the barman, before turning to trent once again. though he wasn't very tall, he still towered a little over you, that same cheeky smirk never leaving his face. the tension was unbearable and you knew he felt it too, the presence of his teammates and your colleagues being the only thing stopping you from sharing little touches.

"enjoying yourself?" you asked, looking away from his face as you started feeling nervous under his gaze, "yeah, very much," he let out a chuckle, knowing you were referring to him checking you out, "i'd enjoy it more if i could touch though," trent mumbled, his eyes scanning over the place, the same way yours did.

you were caught by surprise. he'd never verbally expressed what his eyes were insinuating. you never expected him to be so blunt, showing a different side to him than you were used to, "i'm afraid you're just gonna have to stick to looking for now," you tried to play off the feeling that was forming in the pit of your stomach. you wanted to feel his touch just as much as he wanted to touch you, your mind wandering off to the mental images of his body that you'd collected over the past few weeks while observing him in training from the window in your office. "watch out, you might start drooling in a minute," trent joked, amused with his own joke, while you hit his arm with the back of your hand.

you spent the rest of the night flirting back and forth with trent, either through eye contact or subtle touches as you'd pass each other. the night slowly came to an end and trent made sure to check up on you one more time.

"do you want me to drive you home?" trent asked, a hint of hope in his eyes that you'd say yes. you looked around for a second, "i already had a ride, but i don't mind going with you," although your facial expression would never give it away, you felt more nervous with each second passing, the realisation settling in that soon you'd be completely alone with trent.

while trent drove you home, the tension that had built up over the past few weeks only rose. one thing led to another and before you knew it, trent was reclined in the driver's seat, while you had both legs on each side of him. you'd been waiting for this exact moment, to feel his voluptuous and soft lips on yours, savouring every second you spent tasting his mouth. your lips wrapped around his bottom lip, tugging a little as trent's eyes shot closed, his large hands carefully placed on your hips, squeezing them ever so softly. beneath you, you could feel trent grow. seeing him melt under your touch drove you insane, the combination of his shut eyes, parted lips and hushed moans making you feel something you had never felt before.

trent's hands found their way around your back, unzipping the dress you picked with him in mind, as he slowly shed you of your clothing. his fingers eagerly unclasped your bra and as your eyes locked for a split second, you noticed just how hungry he was for you. your dress sat bunched up around your waist, your panties exposed, while your bra was lost somewhere in the car. trent's fingers played with your nipples, an unfamiliar sensation shooting through your body, only trent's touch having that effect on you, "trent," you tried to mumble, his lips never leaving yours, as though he was making up for the past few weeks of depriving him of your touch.

trent's hands roamed around your body, grabbing a handful of your ass, as you leaked more fluid all over your panties. you needed to feel him and you needed to make it clear to him, so as you finally let go of his lips, you cupped his face with your hands, holding him close as you whispered against his swollen lips, "i need you to fuck me like you've never fucked anyone before," those words leaving your mouth made trent go feral, unbuckling and pulling his pants down with one swift motion, the only barrier between your skin and his being your panties and his boxers. your hands wrapped around the elastic band, pulling the boxers down as his cock sprung free, resting against his stomach.

"fuck," you whispered against his lips, your pussy throbbing, yearning to be filled up. trent wasted no time, holding your panties to the side with one hand, while the other slid against your folds, spreading the moisture across his fingers before pumping his cock in his hands a few times. trent lined himself up with your entrance, the moment you both had silently been waiting for finally here. your hands rested on his broad shoulders as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. picking up your pace, trent was losing his mind and you could tell. his head fell back against the headrest, his hands firmly on your hips, guiding you through your movements. "fucking hell," he cursed, burying his cock deep inside, hitting a spot you didn't even know was possible, your moans getting louder.

you knew he was close from how sloppy each thrust had become, his breathing getting deeper and quicker. you lifted yourself off of him without a warning, his eyes lazily following your every move, high off of the ride you just gave him. you moved back to the passenger's seat, sitting on your knees as you wrapped both hands around his cock, leaving a trail of spit on his tip as you moved up and down as fast as you could, driving him to his climax. cum leaked all over your fingers, while trent cursed under his breath. your mind clouded by feelings of lust and desire, you brought your fingers up to your lips, licking them off as though you'd just finished a meal. trent chuckled as he crashed down from his high, his thumb caressing your cheek, "won't lie, i didn't expect all that from you, ms. wanna keep things professional," he joked, your cheeks heating up at his remark.

the night continued for a while, you'd moved to the backseat, lying on your back as trent supported himself on top of you. with your legs up, resting on trent's shoulders, he slammed into you, your cries being heard from outside the car. "fuc-" you choked on your moans, trent's name leaving your lips, warning him that you were close. trent watched your eyes roll back, his thumb circling between your folds, stimulating your clit, while his thrusts became deeper and slower, "fuck, fuck, fuck," your legs trembled, your body shuddering against trent as you held onto his muscular arms, as he unloaded another load inside of you.

the car felt hot by the end, your sweaty body on top of trent's as you laid your head on his shoulder, one of your hands resting on his exposed chest. the silence cleared your mind enough to think about what had just happened. you had no idea how you went from fighting to get a word out of trent to lying on top of him naked, vulnerable and fucked out in his car, parked in front of your place. if you had any energy left in you, you'd be stressing about how you were supposed to go back to work and pretend like nothing had happened—at least that's what you were planning on doing.

you knew you crossed a line you shouldn't have, you felt regret as you looked up at trent whose eyes were shut, his breathing steady and calm. you wondered what was going through his mind, if he was thinking the same as you, and if the weight of concealing the intimacy between you both laid as heavily on his heart as it did on yours.

[ooffmlsorry]

One Piece Men Dealing with a Dangerously Reckless S/O

context: by dangerously reckless I mean someone who never has a second thought about throwing themselves in harms way and doesn't care what it does to them

t/w: passive suicidality, self harm? (better safe than sorry) angst. Mentions of blood, injury, and death

LAW

It'd probably lead to a big argument where he threatens to kick you off his crew because losing you would legitimately be the death of him. He can't lose anymore people he loves to violence. When Bepo tells Law you didn't even hesitate to plunge into a thicket of razor wire to help your crew mates escape, it doesn't read as admirable to him. It reminds him too much of himself on Spider Miles. After he gets your side of the story, which pretty much confirms it, he doesn't talk to you at all while he cleans the mud and blood from your skin and stitches the slashes that cover you from head to toe. Normally, even if you've fallen asleep, he talks you through your treatment, but not after your stunts. He's that...scared? Angry? Distraught might be the right word. Every time you do something like this, he's speechless because his thoughts are racing with the reality of losing you. He feels sick to his stomach. On nights like these, he doesn't know whether to sleep far away from you or hold you so close to him you can't breathe.

LUFFY

At first, Luffy doesn't care. He has the utmost faith in his crew, and they put themselves in harms way all the time! Getting injured is just being a pirate sometimes! That's pre-timeskip. Post-timeskip Luffy still has a lot of faith in his crew and a lot of faith in his ability to protect his crew, but he's...different. He believes things are always going to work out no matter what and if they don't he'll make them, but sometimes he wakes up in the middle of night and stares at you, tracing all the scars you've gotten from one fight or another. And then the what-ifs begin to creep in and the nightmares start. After literally diving into a sea king to retrieve Nami's log pose and Chopper has patched you up yet again, you wake up to Luffy calling out for you in his sleep, sweat dampening his hair and his face twisted in fear. You soothe and shush him until his breathing evens out, but he holds you tighter still. It's not in his nature to "bench you" or doubt your strength just because he's in love with you. That would be controlling and doubting you, and he would never do that. But that doesn't mean Zoro and Sanji don't take notice, even if Luffy won't say anything they make it extremely hard for you to pull off any careless "heroics."

ZORO

Much like Luffy, Zoro doesn't think much of it for a while for the same reason. This is the guy that was completely ready to cut his own legs off, after all. But that doesn't mean it doesn't concern him, especially because you don't seem to have a rhyme or reason for all the shit you pull. And he would say something to you about it. Maybe not directly after you jumped straight into Marine gunfire to cover a little girl, he just wants you to be alive at that point. But after days of taking care of you as your wounds slowly heal, after he's certain you're not going anywhere this time, he'd make sure the two of you are somewhere alone and quiet to talk. As far as Zoro's concerned not going down without a fight is completely fine, dying for your dream isn't considered giving it up, but acting like it isn't a possibility is stupid. And he'd tell you as much. For most of this he wouldn't be able to look at you, just because if he does fear is going to take hold of him, but for that last bit he would. Zoro would search your eyes hoping you understand what he's saying. He'll tie you to the ship if he has to, he'd do anything if it saves you from being so stupid as to forfeit your dreams.

SABO

Dying for the cause is par for the course. It's a grim reality that Sabo begrudgingly accepts, although he does have a bit of youthful naivety that it won't ever happen to anyone. He won't ever believe the revolution isn't worth it, but you do make him question it for the first time. He loves you so much he has to compare you to the whole world for a moment, and that's one of the worst thoughts he's ever had. Because the whole world still wins. The guilt would eat him alive until he blows up (somewhat literally) at you for drinking the last of a rare poison to keep it out of the enemy's hands. Angry tears roll down Sabo's cheeks. When he yells at you, he's shaking with anger and fear. It's not up to him, but he doesn't object when you're completely benched while you recover and for a little longer after that. It takes a while for him to no longer angry and scared out of his mind, but once he is he's back to himself. If can visit you every day he will. He has hope for the world's future, and hope for yours too. He's not leaving either behind.

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Blurbs: Dinosaur

————————————————————————-

Summary: You make the mistake of helping Joe make a TikTok account.

Warnings: None, pure silliness

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Into The Mystic

————————————————————————-

February 15, 2024

Out of nowhere, Joe plopped down next to me on the couch and put his phone on my lap.

“Can I help you?” - you

“Yes, actually!” - Joe pointed to his phone

I looked down at his phone to see that it was the TikTok log-in or sign-up page that pops up when you first download the app.

“What?” - you

“Can you help me make an account? My dinosaur ass can't figure it out, but I wanna follow you and see the videos you post. Ja’Marr was talking about the videos you posted of me and you for Valentine’s yesterday, but I had no idea what he was talking about. I wanna be able to see your posts.” - Joe

“Why? So you can approve of them?” - you

“No, nothing like that! I like watching the videos you make of us, and I think they're cute. Plus, I rarely ever get to see the finished prank videos. Please help me?” - Joe

I thought his reasoning was adorable, so I happily helped him.

“Do you want it to be an official account or incognito?” - you

“Incognito.” - Joe

Nodding, I handed him his phone so he could type a username in.

I was absentmindedly staring off when I heard Joe giggle.

“What?” - you smiled

He handed me his phone, and I playfully rolled my eyes at the username he typed out.

Simp4Y/N_B

“You're a dork.” - you laughed

“I mean, I am making the account to watch your videos, so it's kinda fitting.” - Joe grinned

After getting the rest of the account setup process completed, Joe made me type my username in the search so he could follow me.

“Wanna follow anyone else? The team you play for, maybe?” - you

“Nope. This is all I wanted.” - Joe

——

You had no idea what a mistake that would be, and you were dealing with the consequences.

It wasn't even the next day yet, and Joe had blown your phone up, mass-liking every video you've ever posted.

Then he found the AI Spongebob singing videos…

“Joseph Lee, send me one more TikTok, and I'm going to block you.” - you

“Watch the last one I sent!” - Joe

“No!” - you

“It's Patrick singing Billie Jean!” - Joe

We were lying in bed, or at least I was, but my phone continuously vibrated on the nightstand, and Joe laughing kept me from sleeping.

“Go to sleep.” - you

Joe rolled over and laid his head on my shoulder, his hand propping up his phone on my chest to show me the video.

Like he hadn't already watched it ten times, Joe couldn't stop laughing.

“I'm gonna shove you off of this bed.” - you

——

Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, they did. They damn did.

Joe found Jett and Campbell. (IYKYK)

Now he randomly calls me Pookie as a joke, but with way too serious of an expression for my liking.

He'd gone to pick up my online pickup order from the store for me, and when Joe called me to tell me he had received my order, he greeted me in a way that made me want to hang up.

“Hey, baby.” - you

“Hey, Pookie. I got your order and am almost home.” - Joe

A few seconds of silence went by till I spoke up.

“Call me that again and I'll file for divorce.” - you

“You wouldn't do that, you love me too much... right?” - Joe

“I would never even think of it. I was just kidding, Joey.” - you

“Good because I can't live without you.” - Joe

“Can't live without you either… I love you more than anything.” - you

A few seconds of silence went by before Joe spoke up.

“Love you too… Pookie.” - Joe

“Bye.” - you hung up

——

After threatening divorce, Joe toned it down with the “Pookie” shit, but then he found trends that guys were doing on their girls.

We were in bed one night, cuddling and watching a movie, when out of nowhere, I heard an unmistakable edit audio playing. I looked over at Joe’s phone only to see my face and an annoyed expression on Joe’s.

Joe put his phone down on his chest and scooted away from me.

“Joe…” - you

“Nope, it's okay. Comforting knowing that my wife can recognize songs that are in the background of videos of other men.” - Joe

“You're being silly. I'm huge right now because I'm pregnant with your kid.” - you

“You're not huge… but that still doesn't make up for the fact that you knew that sound.” - Joe

I rolled over onto my side and curled up against Joe. He begrudgingly reached out and ran his fingertips over my bump that was pressing against his side.

“You're crazy if you think I don't have an edit of you saved with the same song in the background.” - you grinned

Joe looked away, suddenly feeling bashful as his cheeks flushed pink, and I lightly scratched his bare arm with my nails.

“You're playin’.” - Joe

“No, I'm not!” - you

I grabbed my phone out and pulled TikTok up, immediately finding my collection titled “Hubby ❤️🤭”, and scrolled till I found the video I wanted.

“Woah, you weren’t joking.” - Joe

“Don't you look hot as fuck?” - you

“I'm just drinking water on the sidelines…” - Joe

“Exactly!” - you

————————————————————————-

Authors note: idk what to say 💀

Request in this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

[elitadream]

Hi guys~! ⛅👋

Long time no see! Much longer than I ever intended, in fact. Truth be told, I wanted to make a public post sooner, but I've had a lot to catch up on in terms of notifications and messages since logging back in a few days ago. I've also made some changes that I will address shortly, but first of all I wanted to thank those of you who have reached out with so much care and understanding during my absence. Adjusting has been a slow and fragile process for me -still is-, and I sadly haven't responded directly to everyone yet because of it, but I wanted to say how much I appreciate your patience and support nonetheless. 🥹 🙏

Long story short, I was gone for five months due to a huge burnout, then progressively found my spark again somewhere along the way and have since mostly recovered. It was my wonderful friend @drones-of-innocence who reached out to me outside of Tumblr, and her sense of initiative is largely the reason why I managed to make this post in a somewhat reasonable delay. 😅💖 With that said however, I must also mention that I've deleted a lot of stuff from my page and have removed most of my work from the public eye as well. This may seem quite drastic and frankly a little unsettling, but I assure you that it was a thoroughly considered and reasoned decision! The thing is that I was still getting lots of notes on these drawings everyday and… To put it simply, I didn't want that anymore. 🙇‍♀️ Experiencing popularity was very detrimental to me in the long run and I needed to put an end to it for the sake of my own wellbeing; at least for now.

Which brings me to my next point.

After mulling it over for a while, I've decided that I would not be returning as an active creator in the Mario community this time around. 👐 Making fanart for this franchise (with such a high and continuously maintained degree of involvement) had a lot to do with my health's decline and I've come to realize that I wanted to direct my focus elsewhere going forward. For that reason, there are things which I know will never be repeated again in the future, both in regards to my art and online presence in general, but that's alright. Things change, as they do and should. I'm looking forward to reuniting with folks and would be very happy to stay in touch with those of you who wish to message me privately. Like my lovely pal @istadris said, what matters most about any fandom are the friends you make in it. ☺️

And speaking of which-

@ody-and-fanatu That's so sweet of you, thank you! 💗 I'm glad you've enjoyed my contribution to the fandom. It was fun while it lasted! 💫 My visual ideas may be gone from my page, but most of my written posts and replies are still there for anyone who wants to revisit those at least, so there's that! And I'd also like to answer some of the asks I still have in my inbox at some point. Knowing that you hold my art in such high regard makes really happy! 🥰 Unfortunately, the other account that I have is reserved for my professional work and I prefer to keep them separate from one other, but the good thing is that I intend to go back to this blog occasionally. Hoping to see you around! Cheers! 🥂

@heiressofdoodles Thanks, I appreciate that! ✨ I'm honestly doing much better than I was earlier this Spring. Back then, I was running on empty and on the verge of crashing without even knowing it. Being in constant physical pain was one thing, but feeling mentally and emotionally drained on a daily basis was another entirely, and something had to be done. It took me a moment to really figure out what was wrong, but thankfully I realized very quickly what was causing it and applied the breaks with all my might. One of my main priorities now is to be more alert and respect my own boundaries to make sure that this never happens again. 🥲

@keakruiser Thank you. 🙏💐 I'm just glad to have found my footing again. Feels good to be able to create freely.^^ Hope you're doing well too!

Special thanks also to @pianokantzart, @jelly-fish-wishes, @katlyntheartist, @triniji and @wahooitsamee for their kind words. 🫂 Your graciousness and consideration means a lot to me. 💝

As for all the nice people who sent me anon comments and well wishes, I tried to summarize my thoughts as best I could in this update, but if there's anything else you'd like to say or know, don't hesitate to ask me anytime! Now that I feel like myself again, I think I'm gonna hang out on Tumblr for a little bit. I'll be excited to see what you guys have been up to in the meantime! 🤗 Wishing you all a very good day and pleasant Fall. 🍂

-elita 🌸

[cheriladycl01]

The Rookie Prodigy - Carlos Sainz x Driver! Reader Part 6

Plot: You are a rookie coming into the 2022 season of Formula One into Alfa Romeo with team member Zhou Guanyu, being in a mid tier team can you help them rise up the ranks. What pressures occur for the only rookies within the 2022 line up!

'Where is Y/N Y/L/N' was the talk of the paddock on the coastline of Miami after you missed media day on Thursday. Zhou was there alone trying his best to make funny content but clearly the lack of you there was affecting him.

The presenters for Sky Sports also could tell there was a lack of you in the paddock. Obviously it was still loud thanks to Lando and those kinds of energies.

But where it was media day people didn't think too much of it, maybe you slept in and was too embarrassed to rock up late, or maybe you missed your Wednesday flight ... or maybe you'd been asked by your PR team not to show up because of everything with you and Lewis in the media right now.

There was a lot of noise around Lewis and you. A lot of it wasn't kind either, the worst being that people assumed you slept your way into your seat as the only woman in F1. This started a spiral of hate towards you, people had somehow doxed you and death threats had been sent to your home and you couldn't even log into your socials because it was so bad.

When you didn't arrive for the first free practice that's when more attention was brought to your absence.

"Have you guys seen Y/N?" Carlos asks the little group he was stood with, concerned he hadn't seen you.

"No, she wasn't here yesterday for media day and she didn't come out in FP1, her side of the garage was actually so slow and empty. Their main focus was on getting Zhou out!" Lando admitted having seen with his own eyes what your absence had done to the team.

"As a rookie it's risky missing free practice, maybe they'll announce a replacement for her tonight?" Charles offers sipping on his drink that he'd taken with him from their hospitality.

"I can't believe it, I wonder what's going on!" Daniel nods, wondering why the paddock princess wasn't here.

Things got stranger when you also didn't turn up for FP2 on the same day.

You also weren't there the next morning and everyone was thinking Alpha Romeo were going to have their first DNS of the season where you still weren't around.

It was around 20 minutes until qualifying was supposed to start when someone noticed your paddock pass had been scanned in. They sent someone from the FIA to search and see if it was a mistake or if you had in fact come in.

By the time someone reached the garage to ask you were already in your car waiting to come out for qualifying. You were nervous as hell, you'd missed out on all the free practices and never driven the Miami circuit.

You drove out and ended Q3 in P14, one away from the cut off and it was on a lap where you'd only just managed to get passed the flag in time to get that vital last lap in. Zhou despite having been around the whole weekend and participating in all the free practice sessions didn't have as great a run as you coming P17 and being eliminated for Q2.

Come Q2 and the commentators were in shock with how quickly you were coming to grips with the track. You were only a few tenths of a second off Lando's time coming in P6, a drastic change from your previous result.

You stayed sat in the car in Q3, everyone in the garage knew you didn't really want to talk right now. So it was only you engineer talking to you every now and then telling you stats and times.

Q3 again was pretty good and you were managing to start P5. And considering the week you've had you felt really good about that result.

The rest of the weekend just had awkward vibes, you could tell in your post race interviews how much you didn't want to be there.

"Y/N, it's great to see you back around here and what a great result for you despite being absent for all your free practice sessions!" the interviewer says and you just nod, it wasn't a question. It was a statement so you didn't have to answer.

"How do you feel about that result?" they ask.

"Yeah, good. I think I got as much as I could out the car as I could!" you reply and the interviewer sighs knowing this would be a hard interviewer seeing as this was the first time they were experiencing icy and cold Y/N.

You ended up the interviews quickly, your PR apologizing to the last few saying you wouldn't be doing any more of them.

You went back to the hotel exhausted, just wanting to sleep and get this weekend over.

Twitter was going crazy over how you had been acting in your interviews, your fans specifically were really concerned and of course because it was brought up online all the other drivers saw their reactions and had to go look for themselves.

The ones who hadn't really interacted with you just put it down to an off day, which did happen with drivers particularly rookies who were being too hard on themselves which wasn't uncommon in the newbies.

But for those who did know you and had made the effort to welcome you to the sport, like Zhou, like Carlos, like Lewis, like Charles and Lando and George and Alex ...

They all could tell something was seriously wrong, but it seemed impossible for anyone to get hold of you.

Even the next day on race day, you showed up in the paddock for the national anthem of America, and were ushered straight to your car by your PR team, all the other drivers sharing a look of confusion.

You looked so exhausted and worn out, but they didn't know why.

The race wasnt good, as well as being tired from a severe lack of sleep, there was also your mental state affecting your drive. So you went from P5 down to P7, still in the points but it just didn't really feel ... good enough and you went back to the hotel disappointed.

Your PR team had refused you do any media after the shit show you caused with your bluntness yesterday and thoughts it's best to send you on your way to Switzerland to sort everything out that had been happening and get ready for Spain.

"Charles, she wont answer me..." Carlos had complained to Charles worried about the young driver.

"I don't know Carlos, we're all routing for her and hoping she's okay but maybe she just needs some time alone because of all the pressure. She the first in years to be here, as a woman you know... i cant imagine the pressure she's been feeling" Charles explains with a sigh.

"Mmmmm Toto have you heard anything about Y/N... she's well I don't think she's okay!" Lewis asked his boss in the Mercedes garage.

"Mmmm nothing, but i'll reach into my contacts. I knew her since she was 13 because she was the frist female Mercedes Development Driver/ Young Driver we sponsored. It's a shame really she isn't driving for one of our teams" Toto sighs, knowing Lewis wanted answers starting to tap away on his phone.

You knew these people cared about you, but right now... what you were dealing with and experiencing, you didn't want to drag any of them into.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

[alarrylarrie]

Just when I think I’m done crying, I see him on my page and anywhere on social media because the algorithm knows that I’m talking about him and looking him up more than ever. I look at posts about him and see how he was. Even though I never met him, I just really wish I had, even though I didn’t know him personally. He seemed like a nice guy, and maybe I’m getting the parasocial view of him that I’ve always had since I was younger. Still, I think that was the real him, the kindest and most giving person, and just really funny and talented in many ways. And I am just going through the ups and downs of this, being sad, upset, and angry, and then back to crying just when I think I’m done. But the thoughts of what could’ve been and the things that he could’ve done and showed people how he really was just makes me go through all of it again. I feel like he and the boys need justice in a way? I don’t know if this makes sense, but I just needed to get it off of my chest. I also think this hit me really hard because I’ve never really been into something like this in my life, like I have one direction. Everything about this situation just feels off. And I also feel like I should be over grieving him because it’s been 12 days, but I just can’t. And if it’s hitting me and a lot of other people really hard, I can’t imagine the people that were closest to him.

Oh love. Gently, let me just say. There is no “should be over this” okay? Please be kind to yourself.

Everything you’re feeling is so valid. And it’s okay you’re feeling it, 12 days later. Even if it’s for someone you didn’t know “in real life.”

Grief is unexpressed love. Liam’s life was cut short, in a tragic way. It is a massive loss. And we love him. We might not know him, but god do we love him. And we planned on loving him as we all lived on. So we’re all dealing with the way everything has changed. And it has. It has changed.

So cry, my friend. Cry when you need to. Be angry when you need to. Laugh when you need to. Log off when you need to.

I’m giving you a big virtual hug. I love you, very much.

[forever-once-gone]

New Drabble! On The First Day of Christmas, My True Love Gave to Me...

This is a drabble! To read the first part click here! And please I hope you all read this since you guys seem to love this pair.

Pairing: Yandere!Namjoon x Reader x Yandere!Jungkook

Genre: Yandere AU, angst

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Before you had gotten kidnapped by your boss and his fiancé, you had to first meet the Mr. Jeon that you heard so much about. So, how exactly did your first meeting with him go? Well, why not reminisce about the last time you were truly free? When you were not yet locked to your unfortunate future of being added into your boss’ relationship.

Content & Warnings: Gender neutral reader, yandere themes, angst, Joon and Kook are in an established relationship, CEO!Joonie, stay-at-home-boyfriend!Kook, assistant!reader, polyamory, reader’s sexuality is nondescript, talks of violence, Jungkook wants to hurt the reader a lot during this, general discomfort, making out, use of pet names, reader being none the wiser to what the two of them are talking about as they continue to type away on their keyboard lol

Author’s Note: Hi hi! It’s been a while. I’ve been swamped with school and just haven’t been able to write anything for you guys lately. But today, I logged into Tumblr and saw some very kind reblogs and asks and I just wanted to write something for you guys! I really appreciate the kind comments and It really does fuel me to write for you guys. So here is a drabble for your guys’ favourite couple! I hope you guys enjoy seeing how Jungkook and the reader’s first encounter went. It’s funny cause Jungkook is like fuming and they’re just like “this guy seems stressed :(” and then they get chosen (kinda) to be pursued by Jungkook and Namjoon lol. I apologize for not having posted part two last Christmas, but I was honestly just really stressed around that time. And then I wanted to have this small inside Easter egg (?) for something in part two but then I realized it was kinda hard to explain without having a previous explanation for it. So this drabble worked out! It was a little incentive to add that little tidbit into this and maybe you’ll have a little “oh!” moment when you read something later on when I post part two (whenever that will be lol, don’t ask me, idk. I’m aiming for this Christmas). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. I need to stop writing this author’s note, it’s has gotten too long anyways lol. So yeah, enjoy and let me know what you think!

Jungkook was fuming as he tapped his foot impatiently on the floor of the elevator, seething for the elevator to spit him out on Namjoon’s floor. He was gonna figure out what was going on with his boyfriend one way or another.

His dearest Joonie had refused his daily cup of coffee… again. For the past few weeks, Namjoon, the love of his life, had been eating everything during breakfast that Jungkook woke up oh so graciously to make for him each morning. Joon finished everything except his fucking cup of coffee. Some days he’d be kind enough to take a sip or two before leaving the still very full mug standing in its place on the dining room table beside his empty dishes.

Seeing the mug full of the coffee that Namjoon used to always say Jungkook made better than anyone else left Jungkook feeling insecure. Insecure and just a little bit angry. Okay, maybe a bit more than a little bit, he’ll admit. Okay, fine, he was boiling with fury. He hated to imagine that Namjoon was drinking coffee made by someone else. Because he knew for a fact, if Namjoon wasn’t drinking his coffee, then he was getting it from somewhere else ‘cause Joonie was never able to get anything done without his morning coffee. And knowing Joonie’s disdain for store bought coffee, Jungkook knew it had to be someone making it for him, homemade. And if he was drinking someone else's, that must mean that he was falling out of love with him and falling in love with this awful, boyfriend-stealing, shameless person. And Jungkook was gonna stop at nothing until he found who this fucking person was and got even. He was gonna win Namjoon back one way or another.

The ding-ing of the elevator woke him from his murderous thoughts just in time to see the doors open to the empty space that lead to his boyfriend’s office. Or at least, the once-empty area, because now, unlike the last time he’d come here about a month ago, there was a table placed just before the office doors. And behind that table was a person, who upon hearing the elevators open perked up from their computer screen to smile at him. This person had a sweet smile, kind eyes, and the smoothest voice as they asked him what they could do for him.

He walked up to their table, arms crossed over his chest as he analysed the person sitting below him. The person still smiling up at him even throughout the awkward silence as Jungkook left their question unanswered. The person was dressed nicely and they had a kind aura around them. Their workspace was covered in flowers from the flower shop that Jungkook knew Namjoon frequented. Usually, his Joonie brought home flowers only for him, but here was this new person who was now swimming between countless bouquets covering every free inch of their work table.

When they asked him what he wanted for the second time, he finally graced the person with an answer. “I’m here to see Namjoon.”

The person nodded their head, before prodding for more info. “Alright, and who might you be?” the person asked, turning to scroll through their computer, searching to see if they had accidentally double-booked their boss’ time.

“I’m Jungkook,” he began, back straightening in pride when he saw the worker tense up in their seat. “Joon’s boyfriend,” he concluded, mentally doing a mic drop, hoping that those words etched themselves in the worker's skin, the one who was stealing his Namjoon from him. He hoped it hurt.

What he didn’t expect is for the worker to turn back to him after X-ing out of the calendar that they had been frantically scrolling through, before turning to him with a polite smile.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” the person began, “I think this is the first time we’re actually meeting in person. I’m Y/n L/n, Mr. Kim’s assistant. I just got shifted up to this floor about a month ago from my previous place a few floors down.” You reached your hand out to him for him to shake, just for him to completely ignore it, not even glancing in your hands direction.

“Yes. I’m sure he’s mentioned me before.” Jungkook was gonna make sure that you knew that Namjoon was his, no matter how nice you pretended to be.

“Yes, he has,” you replied pleasantly. “And of course, I’ve spoken with you before too, if you recall?”

When he thought about it, he had spoken with you before. The few times he’d call Namjoon’s assistant when his boyfriend wasn’t picking up. He would pace in this same area, back when it was still empty and call the number for Namjoon’s assistant to know when he’d be free again. The conversations would be semi-mannerly, at best, as he would ask where his boyfriend was before hanging up as soon as he got his answer. He never expected the assistant, that he never spoke more than a few clipped sentences to, being the one who was stealing his love away from him.

That they would have been moved up to be on the same floor as his boyfriend.

The two of them.

Alone.

And when he saw two cups of steaming coffee on your table corner, one half finished and one still untouched, he knew that you were the one making coffee for his man. He felt deep hatred rise in his chest, bubbling up his throat, ready to let out his rage on the home-breaker in front of him.

But he pushed his feelings down before giving you a pursed smile. “Right. You sound different in person. I didn’t even recognize you.” It was true, he wasn’t expecting your voice to be as sweet as it was, though he could tell it was strictly professional. Even when you were so obviously putting on a kind smile for the sake of your job, your voice was so saccharine. He could only imagine how much more saccharine—sinful—your voice must sound when you were using it for your more devious desires.

Jungkook wondered if you’d ever used that syrupy voice on his boyfriend. Walked into his man’s office with your probably sub-par coffee between your hands. You were attractive, that he will give to you, but he hoped that Namjoon wouldn't think the same way that he did. He hoped that any attempts that you’d made on him were met with bitter rejection.

But seeing you surrounded with all the flowers, making your soft features look even more attractive—though he hated to admit it—he knew that Namjoon must feel at least something for you. Why else would Namjoon have gotten you all these flowers? Flowers that Jungkook indignantly noticed were his favourites.

You were perfect and that’s what made his heart hurt more.

In another life, maybe Jungkook would have fallen for you himself, he thought sorely.

You laughed at his remark about your voice. “I guess no one really sounds the same over the phone though, right?” You asked him. “I mean, you sound pretty different yourself.”

Jungkook felt his eye twitch. Was that a dig at him? Were you implying that he was being rude? Were you saying he was anything less than the kindest, best person in the world? He restrained himself from reaching over your desk and pulling your hair out, telling you how Namjoon always told him that he was the best person in the world. He wanted to tell you that you’d never compare to him in Namjoon’s eyes.

Instead of doing any of that, he decided it was better to just ask for his boyfriend. He had a few choice words that he wanted to have with him.

“So will you please tell me if my boyfriend is available?” he asked you, steering the conversation back to the original topic of conversation.

Your eyes widened. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeon. In my surprise of meeting you for the first time, I forgot to tell you that he’s in a meeting right now. He should be done in…” You turned to check the clock on the wall. “...in just about ten minutes.”

You turned back to the man in front of you who stood there with a small pout that you were sure he didn’t realize was there and you observed the way his eyebrows scrunched slightly together. It was funny to see how his overly expressive face had changed so many times in the little amount of time that he’d come up to you. Clearly something was bothering this poor guy, so you tried to be as nice to him as you could. Though it only seemed to make him look even worse.

“You can wait for him in the sitting area over there or you could wait for Mr. Kim in his office.” You left it up to Mr. Jeon choose what he’d rather do, only for him to scoff slightly.

“I’ll wait for him in his office,” he answered curtly. He began to walk away and you turned back to your computer only for him to step back up to you. He pointed at the mug sitting beside yours. “Is this for Joonie?”

“Uh yeah.”

“I’ll take this to him.” He gave you another half smile and one last glance at your pretty face before finally entering Mr. Kim’s and taking the suffocating aura that was surrounding him with him. You sighed in relief. You hated having to deal with this job, but the paycheque wasn’t anything to scoff at, and so you settled back into your chair and hoped Mr. Kim would get here soon.

Namjoon found Jungkook sitting in his chair when he returned from his meeting on one of the lower floors of the building. His younger boyfriend sipping on a cup of coffee that he recognized was the one that you usually set out for him. He could see Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed in disgust, as he continuously sipped loudly from his drink.

Namjoon could tell immediately that his beloved was in one of his moods. He knew that he had to get control of the situation, and quickly, especially if he didn’t want you to overhear whatever Kookie was upset about.

“Hi, love. What are you doing here?” Namjoon rounded the table to press a kiss against Jungkook’s temple as he continued to sip from his cup.

“They make some good coffee, huh? I see now why you’ve been rejecting my coffee now.” Jungkook got right to his point. His voice was cold and he refused to look at his boyfriend as he set down the now empty mug.

Namjoon sighed. “Don’t be like that. I was just being kind to them. I didn’t want to upset them by not accepting their coffee.” He pulled Jungkook up from the chair momentarily before sitting down in Jungkook’s place. He then smoothly pulled his boyfriend to sit down sideways on his lap. He rubbed his large hand up and down Jungkook’s back, trying to calm him down.

“Oh really?” Jungkook shoved Namjoon’s arm away from him. “‘Just being kind’? What about all the roses on their desk?! I saw the labels on them, they’re from Sirf Ek Phool! The same place you always get flowers for me!” Jungkook folded his arms against his chest, stopping himself from beating his fists against his boyfriend’s chest like he wanted to.

“Honey, that is just because they take such good care of me—”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened, his mouth dropping open in disbelief. “Take care of you? Excuse me? Taking better care of you than me? Your boyfriend?! In which way is this assistant taking care of my boyfriend, hmm? Do I need to beat their ass?!” He began to push himself off Namjoon’s lap, eyes locked at the door with a barbaric look in his eyes.

Namjoon swiped a hand over his face, before pulling his boyfriend back into his chest, closer than he was before, his arms locking over his waist. “Love, you know that I love you more than anything else in the world. No other person could ever take your place. They are just very kind, I promise I’m not doing anything that would harm our relationship. I promise you.”

He pressed a kiss against Jungkook’s cheek, before pressing another against his jaw. He pulled a content sigh from Jungkook, and Namjoon knew instantly that he’d deescalated the situation. At least enough for Kookie not to go and murder his assistant. At least not right now.

“Why should I trust you?” Kookie let out softly in between whimpers as Namjoon nipped at his neck.

“When have I ever lied to you?” Namjoon said against his Adam's apple.

“Many, many times,” Jungkook replied.

Namjoon let out a half laugh against Jungkook’s shoulder, letting his forehead rest against him. “I guess I should clarify. When have I ever lied to you in a way that was bad for you?”

“Never.” Jungkook pulled Namjoon’s face to face him. “You always know what’s best, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt.”

“Don’t be that way. I’m not asking you to be best friends with them or anything like that. Just give them a chance to be your friend.”

Jungkook thought for a second, thinking back to you sitting at your desk and your friendly nature. You weren’t that bad, and you were rather pretty… Ugh, couldn’t Namjoon just be clear with what he meant? Did he expect… more from you than just an assistant?

Jungkook’s bottom lip was jutted out in sadness, calling out to Namjoon with its plump red appearance. Namjoon was again taken aback by his boyfriend’s beauty and just how amazing he was for him. After all, look at him. Just a second ago, Jungkook was ready to beat up his assistant and now he was clutching Namjoon’s suit jacket’s lapels with a vulnerable look on his face. He looked so worried, waiting for Namjoon’s next words and his next course of action. Fuck, Namjoon loved that man.

He pulled his boyfriend in for a kiss, letting the shorter man melt into his embrace. He could taste your signature coffee on Jungkook’s tongue which only made Namjoon push his tongue more eagerly in his mouth. The taste of your coffee and the love of his life together making his head spin in ecstasy. His brain painted a picture of what could come if he was able to make this whole thing work.

He knew what he wanted, and he knew he’d get it.

Don’t mistake him for being selfish, oh no. He wasn’t doing this just because he wanted you. It’s because he knew that in due time Jungkook will fall for you too. He knew he would. He wouldn’t have to push it, nor would he have to force it. You were perfect for the two of them, he’d figured that out in less than 8 months of you becoming his assistant after the last one quit. You were incredible and he knew that you were just Jungkook’s type. He knew Jungkook and he knew that in less than a month he’d be just as smitten with you as Namjoon was with you now. Actually, Namjoon knows that Jungkook would be even more in love with you than he was now.

And with Jungkook now in his arms, Jungkook’s hands gripping the sides of Namjoon’s neck possessively, his thumbs pushing into Namjoon’s jaw. The way that Jungkook had finished your whole cup of coffee leaving nothing for Namjoon to even get a taste of, and how Jungkook despite his furious expression had the slightest bit of a flush on his face when Namjoon had first walked in, he knew that Jungkook already was falling for you.

Namjoon pressed one final kiss to Jungkook’s lips before pulling away.

Jungkook had a blissed out expression on his face, a soft smile etched on his features as his eyes remained shut in happiness.

“Do you really hate them that much?” Namjoon asked Jungkook, watching him carefully.

Jungkook slowly opened his eyes, a blush slowly making its way up his neck. He turned to look to the side, revealing his bright red ears to Namjoon. Jungkook thought back to your sweet voice, your pretty face, your kind smile, and the coffee you had made that he couldn’t get enough of even as much as he had wanted to hate it. He turned to glance at the empty mug on the table that he wished would refill on its own.

He waited for a minute before: “No.”

“But no more ignoring my coffee, you still have to drink mine! And you have to say that mine's better than theirs” Jungkook added.

Namjoon smiled. Perfect, he knew this would be perfect. He knew just how perfectly you’d fit in with his little family. How you’d fit in Jungkook’s heart. He knew the both of you very well. He was proud.

Namjoon forced Jungkook to turn back to him before attacking him with kisses again.

You turned to see Mr. Jeon skipping out of Mr. Kim’s office. You expected him to go directly to the elevator because of his short attitude with you earlier, but he instead turned to stand in front of your table once again. Smiling down at you genuinely for the first time since he first walked into the room.

You waited for him to say something, but when he didn’t, you figured you should say something instead. “All done?” you asked.

Mr. Jeon just nodded his head, which only made the newly blossoming marks on his neck more visible to you. “I had a sip of the coffee you made Joonie, it was good.”

“Oh thank you,” you replied, a bit taken aback by his sudden change from his previous conduct from before Mr. Kim had shown up. Mr. Kim had given you a small nod in greeting before entering his office when you’d told him Mr. Jeon was waiting for him. Mr. Jeon must really love Mr. Kim for his personality to do such a 180 after seeing him for just half an hour.

Damn, is that what love does to a person?

“I would like to have a proper cup the next time I come visit Joonie.” Mr. Jeon looked down at you expectantly. He seemed to be looking for something deep within you and when you agreed to make him a cup the next time you saw him, he seemed to have found whatever he was looking for.

He smiled at you though a bit hesitant. He pulled a rose from one of the vases of your bouquets, twirling it between his fingers. He seemed to still be a bit stuck thinking of something, but then he was turning away from you. He pressed the button calling the elevator, before turning back at you. “It was nice meeting you, Y/n. I hope we’re able to get to know each other more in the future.”

“Yes, of course!”

He waved the flower at you in goodbye before stepping into the elevator, flashing you one final bunny smile.

What an odd man.

Does 3k still count as a drabble? I have no clue. Anyway, thanks for reading! 💕💕💕

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Equinox (Falk Maria Schlegel x Fem! Reader) FLUFF

Hello hello! I wanted to write something quick and fluffy just to kind of get back into the swing of writing, so who better to do that with me than my favorite scrungly guy. I will also say, now that seeing him face to face, I write Falk a little differently, so hopefully you enjoy the slight changes I've made to his character. More of a bigger posting update will be coming soon, thank you for reading!!

WARNINGS: None

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link! ~ Tip Jar!

The hallways were abuzz with an unusual rush of energy as you made your way down to the library. You set off to your usual morning tasks: reshelving books, organizing the checkout logs, and doing some light dusting. You stumbled across a group of girls excitedly looking out the windows at the front gates. They call your name when you come into view, one of them jogging over to you, taking your hand, and tugging you in their direction. “I'm surprised you're not down there waiting,” one of them giggles when she notices the confused expression passing over your features, “someone doesn't know what day it is.” She follows up in a sing-song tone.

“What do you mean I don't know what day it is? It's the twenty… first…” Your heart begins to pound in your chest as you state the date out loud. 

“Mhm.” She draws out her hum, giving you a playful smirk. 

“I, um… excuse me, ladies, there's something I forgot to handle.” You respond with a bashful chuckle before slipping away. “I am such an idiot!” you exclaim to yourself. You jog down the hallway. Hopefully, there weren't too many people down at the front gate. You had been waiting for them… for him to come home for weeks.

The Autumnal Equinox was always a bit hectic around The Abbey. Sabbats always tended to get everyone a little too rowdy, and this time would be no different. You heard shouts from the kitchen and orders to make sure all the chefs had enough prep for the special meal The Abbey prepares for the Siblings every holiday. The Great Hall doors were open, and last-minute decorations were meticulously placed around the room. It seems like everyone is putting in their best effort to make the celebration of the Equinox something special.

However, you couldn't have been less concerned with the party if you tried. There had been only one thought in your head about seeing him again for weeks. The members of the High Clergy had been traveling to spread the word of the church for the past couple of months, which shouldn't have affected you and your role in the library. But, it got awfully lonely while they were away. You had your friends around The Abbey, of course, and the rest of the Siblings that resided here were all kind and wonderful people, but something was still missing.

You managed to get to the gates just in time to see them heading up the long stone driveway to The Abbey’s entrance. You wiped your hands down the front of your habit, your palms growing clammy as your eyes landed on Falk, a smile on his face as he talked with Attila. His gaze turns to you, his long strides gradually slowing to a stop as his eyes meet yours. His grin softens, a fond expression settling over his features as he studies the image of you standing before him. He claps Attila on the shoulder before parting from the other man, adjusting the strap of his bag where it had twisted before starting in your direction. He stops a few steps in front of you, both of you memorizing the image of the other all over again as you both struggle to find the right words to say. You can't help but smile slightly as you study his features. You hadn't realized how much you missed getting to see his face every day until right this moment: warm golden brown eyes that captivated you yet put you entirely at ease, the subtle sharpness of his smile that never failed to make your heart race, the slight shadow of stubble that covered the lower half of his face, you missed all of it. “How are you?” He finally speaks, snapping you from your trance-like state.

“Good,” you suck in a deep breath to steady your pulse, “better now that you're home safely.” Falk breathes out a flustered chuckle at your response.

“Well, I had to make it back to my favorite Mäuschen, didn't I?” His hand comes to rest on the top of your head, gently patting your hair. Your heart pounded as you glanced up at him through your lashes. He removes his hand from your head, his fingers gently combing through your hair to push some loose strands behind your ear. His hand grazes over your skin, coming to rest on your cheek.

“Father Falk?” Your voice trembled slightly as you spoke, the words bubbling up in your throat as you struggled to tear your eyes away from his. “I, um…” The warmth of Falk’s hand leaves your cheek at the sudden shout of his name, a group of Siblings barreling out of The Abbey doors now that someone has alerted them that the High Clergy had returned home.

“You, what, Maus?” he asks in a low tone. The intimacy of how he leaned in to speak to you, to ensure you knew that you had his full attention, sent a shiver down your spine.

“I'm just really happy you're home, Father.” You tried to muster your most convincing smile, but Falk saw through whatever façade you attempted to put on. As the crowd approaches, you attempt to slip off, only for Falk to catch your hand in his.

“You can stay, you know.” He remarks, offering you a patient smile.

“I'm afraid I’d probably just get in the way,” you respond with a weak, slightly defeated chuckle. “If you find yourself with a moment to breathe, you know where to find me.”

“Will I see you tonight?” You glance at him curiously. “For the party?” He finishes.

The party had already begun to slip from your thoughts. You opened your mouth to respond, only to be drowned out by the hoard of Siblings who had finally made their way down to where you were standing. Your hand slipped out of his as you took your chance to disappear into the chaos.

You hurriedly made your way back to the library, pressing your back against the cool wood as you allowed the door to slam shut behind you. You sigh, letting your head thud against the barrier. “I missed you.” You finally allow the confession to tumble from your lips once you find yourself alone.

You slide into the chair at your desk, smiling slightly as you see your handwriting on a tented index card. You pick it up, absentmindedly twirling it between your fingers as you allow your eyes to trace along the delicate gold letters etched into the book cover that sat atop the pile of reserved texts you had set aside by request. “Excuse me.” You scream as you're startled from your thoughts, clapping a hand over your mouth as you turn to look at who had approached the desk. Falk stood before you, his shoulders shaking slightly as he struggled to contain the laughter bubbling up in his throat.

“I'm sorry, Father–”

“No, really, I'm sorry; I thought you would have heard me come in.” He chuckles, gliding forward until he’s standing right in front of you. His forearms come to rest on the desk, his crooked smile making your cheeks grow warm as he casually leans in closer to you. “Surely I'm not that scary looking, hm?” He adds with a playful smirk.

“You're not scary at all, you just surprised me, that's all…” you trail off, fidgeting with the edge of one of the book covers as you pull the stack closer to you. “I happen to think you're rather handsome.”

“Is that so?” His grin widens slightly as his gaze scans over your features. “Well, coming from someone as beautiful as you, I'm flattered.” Your heart slammed against your ribs when you finally registered his compliment. His hand was warm as he took yours, thumb slowly running over the valleys of your knuckles. He breathes out a laugh at the difference between his massive paw as it engulfed your delicate fingers. His attention turns to your face; the subtle intensity behind his eyes keeps you firmly in place. “I don't believe I got your answer before we were interrupted earlier.” His expression softens, gently squeezing your hand when he feels your fingers trembling against his palm. “Will I be seeing you tonight?” Your mouth grew dry as you struggled to form any words in response. The question was so simple, yet Falk’s tone was so incredibly intimate as he spoke to you.

“I'll be there.” You finally managed to squeak out.

He lifted your hand slightly; his breath was warm against your skin. “Hopefully, I'll be able to steal you away for a dance then.” His eyes flicker over your features before he brings your knuckles to his lips. “Until then, Schwester.” He wordlessly scoops up the books you had placed on the desk between you, giving you one final lopsided grin before hurrying from the library, leaving you dumbfounded.

You couldn't believe it when you stood in front of your mirror. You were truly no better than a teenage girl getting ready for prom. You glanced at the chaos that had ensued behind you: a mountain of dresses covered your bed, practically every pair of shoes you owned scattered the floor, various piles of tried-on and later discarded jewelry, leaving you still standing in your bathrobe as you agonized over what to wear.

You had just finished putting on your earrings when there was a sudden knock at your door. “One second!” You call in response, grumbling as you trip over your shoes on your way to the door. You freeze as your eyes land on Falk, your gaze darting to the vibrant bouquet he held before returning to his charming, lopsided grin. “Falk?” You can't help the shy smile that slowly spreads across your features. “What's this for?”

“Well, I couldn't show up empty-handed. Now, could I?” He responds vaguely, slipping the bouquet into your hands.

“Well, that all depends on why you're here, doesn't it?” He chuckles at your playful tone.

“I'm here to ask if the beautiful young woman in front of me would do me the honor of accompanying me to the Equinox celebration tonight.” He motions to the gift he had presented to you. “Hence the flowers.” You share a laugh, carefully spinning around the bouquet in your hands to admire the vibrant oranges, golds, and reds.

“You… you want to take me?” Your voice came out soft, barely above the whisper, as if you spoke any louder, you would snap yourself awake from a dream.

“If you'll have me.” He responds with a slight nervousness in his tone. He holds out his hand for you to take, a hopefulness in his eyes as they meet yours.

“I think it might be the other way around.” You reply coyly, your cheeks growing warm as your fingers ghost over his palm.

“Please,” you can't help but giggle as he takes your hand and guides you through a spin. He smiles as he drinks in the sight of you. You're absolutely beautiful,” your breath hitches in your throat as he gently trails his knuckle across your jaw. Walking in there with you on my arm feels almost too good to be true.”

“Let me just grab my shoes, " you said as you began to turn. Feel free to come in, but I'll warn you it's a bit of a mess…” he glanced at you curiously. “I couldn't figure out what to wear.” You both exchanged a laugh.

“Well, I think you look incredible, Mäuschen.” You mumble out a flustered ‘thank you,’ Falk sticking close to your side as you head into your dorm. You set the bouquet in some water, deeply inhaling its sweet scent. “I'm glad you like them.”

“Thank you for bringing them for me; that was very sweet.” He shrugs nonchalantly in response, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Like I said… I couldn't just show up empty-handed.” He takes a few steps forward, allowing him to resume his usual position towering over you. “I honestly wish I had prepared a bit more.” He chuckles.

“Getting to spend the night with you is all I could ever ask for.” You admit softly, your eyes trailing to the floor.

“Well then, my dearest Maus,” he takes your hand, carefully bringing your knuckles to his lips, “why don't you grab your shoes so we can enjoy our evening?” Your heart pounded; you were sure Falk could hear it. You reluctantly separated from him, picking up the pair of heels you had decided on. Falk’s hand was warm as it came to rest on the small of your back. “May I?” He asks, taking hold of your shoes. He drops to one knee, taking your hand in his for a moment to bring it to his shoulder. He carefully moves your dress out of the way to delicately lift your foot. He easily slips your shoe on before resting or on his thigh, fastening the strap around your ankle and asking you if everything felt alright before repeating the process.

“Thank you.” You smile down at him. Electricity danced across your skin, where he lazily ran his thumb across your ankle. He takes your hands in his as he stands.

“Ready?” You nod in response, your grin widening as you watch him slowly trace over the contours of your face. “Beautiful.” He mumbles before breathing out a bashful chuckle. He tucks your hand into the crook of his elbow, “Let’s get going.”

You found yourself leaning into Falk’s side as you walked, hiding your face against his shoulder as you laughed at another one of his dumb jokes. You could hear the party raging up the hallway as glasses clinked together and the excited laughter and shouts of the entire Abbey broke apart the otherwise tranquil autumn evening. When you entered the room, it felt like every pair of eyes had landed on you. Falk squeezes your hand before confidently stepping forward. “Falk!” The crowd's attention quickly diverted as Attila greeted the two of you. He claps Falk on the shoulder, greeting each other jovially in German before turning his attention to you, “Sorry about all the staring.” He chuckles. 

“I thought I had prepared myself for that on the walk over here.” You respond with a laugh of your own.

“Just go have fun, don’t worry about them.” He leans closer to you to whisper, “Falk certainly isn’t.” He jokes. You glance at him over your shoulder, your heart leaping into your throat as you meet with his kind, adoring gaze. Attila straightens up, “I’ll see you both later.” He dismissed himself abruptly, surely trying to see as many people as possible before the night was over.

You turn to face him as Falk softly says your name. “Would you like to dance?” He offers you his hand, waiting patiently for you to accept his invitation. As you set your hand in his, a smile finds its way to your lips.

“I'd love to.” He tugs you in the direction of the dance floor. You can't help but laugh as he sweeps you into his arms, your heart fluttering as your hands rest against his chest. He takes your hand in his, the other settling against the curve of your waist.

“You look nervous, Mäuschen.” You share a playful grin.

“Can you blame me?” You reply softly.

“If anything, I should be the one that's nervous.” Your body instinctively begins to sway with his as he leads you around the floor.

“And why's that?” He carefully leads you through a spin before pulling you back to him.

“I showed up to a party accompanied by the most beautiful woman in The Abbey.” His arm fully encircles your waist, tipping you back towards the floor. “I just hope I don't manage to make myself look like a fool in front of you.” 

Your cheeks grow warm at his compliment, a soft laugh slipping past your lips. “Trust me, you don't have anything to worry about.” Your breath catches in your throat as he shoots you another charming, lopsided grin. His gaze drops to your lips, lingering there momentarily before meeting your eyes again.

You danced with him for hours. The pair of you never seemed to tire as Falk effortlessly spun you around the room. Your nerves quickly slipped from your mind, the jealous stares of other Siblings being entirely lost to the warmth that burned in your chest every time Falk made you laugh. Eventually, you noticed the once-raging crowd beginning to thin as the night started to wind to a close. “Why don't we get out of here?” Your pulse races as Falk whispers the simple question in your ear. You nod, laughing as he takes your hand and hurriedly leads you through the crowd.

Falk sighs loudly as he pushes through the door into the chilly autumn evening. Goosebumps immediately erupt across your bare skin, the oppressive heat of the party inside being sucked away from you in an instant. He turns to you with a soft smile, shrugging out of his jacket to draw it across your shoulders. He cups your cheek, allowing his thumb to stroke over your skin as he studies you languidly. “What?” You ask with a bashful smile.

“You're beautiful, Mäuschen.” He responds with unhesitating tenderness. “I'm sorry if you catch me staring. I just can't help myself sometimes.” He pulls you to him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You wandered aimlessly around The Abbey’s grounds, just enjoying being in each other’s company. Neither of you wanted your time together to end, finding any excuse you could to lengthen the conversation. You paused at the distant rumble of thunder, jumping slightly when a raindrop splatters across your cheek. Falk grabs your hand, waiting for you to gather up your dress. You groan as you remember you're wearing heels. Falk chuckles, stepping closer to you to scoop you up in his arms. You let out a delighted squeal, your arms latching around his neck as he jogs off with you in his arms. It didn't take long for both of you to be completely soaked through with rain. He sets you down outside the greenhouse, the first unlockable door to shelter you came across. “I'm sorry about your dress.” He apologizes as he feels around the top of the door frame for the key.

“It'll dry.” You reassure him.

“I figured we could dry off here for a little while, wait for the rain to stop.” He explains as he finally slips the key into the lock. “I thought going for a walk would have been romantic.” He chuckles.

“Falk?” His attention turns to you as you softly say his name. “Would you like to dance with me?”

He chuckles as he nods. “I would love to, Maus.” He steps closer to you, “Here, let me help with your shoes. I don't need you getting stuck.” He meticulously helps you out of your heels, struggling to contain the grin that spreads across his face as he watches you step down to your normal height. You can't help but laugh as Falk gives you a low bow, offering you his hand. You gingerly lift your dress as you curtsy in response. Raindrops trailed down your skin; Falk swore you almost seemed to glow under the moonlight. He hums into the silence of the night, both of you moving in perfect synchronicity as you waltz through the wet grass. Falk bows once more as your dance finishes, bringing your knuckles to his lips before lifting you from the ground easily. The inside of the greenhouse was warm, immediately enveloping your whole body in a blanket of humidity as you hurried inside out of the rain. He carefully takes his sleeve, wiping away whatever water he could with his soaked shirt.

“Come here; I know where they keep some towels.” Falk smiles as you take his hand. You shake the handle of the supply closet, giving it a harsh twist before it finally gives way. It wasn't much, a few hand towels tucked beside a rickety old sink every used to wash up after a day of harvesting. You timidly raise your hand, carefully pressing the towel to his cheek to wipe away the ceremonial paint that now ran in dark gray streaks down his neck. Falk freezes under your delicate touch, his hands settling on the curve of your waist as he allows you to clean him up. As you slowly uncover his handsome features, a soft smile finds its way to your face. Falk was struggling to keep his eyes off of you; everything about you was just so perfect. The subtle curve of your lips as you cared for him just about made his heart stop.

“You'll catch a cold if you're stuck in that dress much longer.” He tuts, moving one of his hands to your shoulder. “Your skin feels like ice, Maus.” 

“I'll be alright-”

“There you two are! What the hell do you think you're doing out here in this storm?” It was Roel. The two of you startled apart; you yelped as you tripped on the long skirt of your gown. Falk’s hand shot out in an instant, steadying you, and he pulled you into his chest.

“How did you know we were out here?” Falk asks in a confused tone.

“I was doing a grounds check. Trust me, this wouldn't be the first time I've found someone hooking up out here, and I'm sure it won't be the last.” He chuckles. “But, from the fact you two look like a couple of wet dogs, I'm assuming this wasn't part of your plan.” You could tell from his teasing tone that Father Roel wouldn't let either of you live this down any time soon. The three of you rush back inside The Abbey, Roel giving Falk very clear instructions to ensure you get home safely before parting ways.

“Let's get you into something dry, hm?” He offers you his arm, and you gladly accept it as you lean into his side. Your hand slides into his, giving it a gentle squeeze to try and ease some of the tension that rolled off of him in waves. He seems to snap himself from his thoughts as he turns to glance at you. “I'm sorry I made such a mess of our date, " he suddenly admits with a chuckle.

“I don't think you made a mess of anything. Falk, I'm having a wonderful time with you tonight.” Your steps slowly come to a stop.

“After I got you caught in the rain and probably ruined your nice dress.” He responds incredulously.

“It's just a dress.” You rebuttal. You turn to face him, and despite how hard he tried to hide it you could see the worry laced into his features. Your hand slowly rises from your side, hesitating for a moment before it gently comes to rest against his cheek. Falk’s warm, golden brown eyes find yours. “I wouldn't change anything about how tonight has gone.” Your confession poured past your lips before you could stop it. “While you were away, I can't even begin to describe how much I missed you. Now, you're home. You asked me to one of The Abbey’s most important parties, and I got to spend the entire night wrapped up in your arms… Falk Maria Schlegel, I love being around you. Getting caught in some rain isn't going to change that. There isn't anywhere I would rather have spent my night than by your side.” He barely gave you enough time to finish your sentence before his lips were on yours. The air was instantly knocked from your lungs, your hands fisting into Falk’s shirt in order to keep yourself upright and to pull him as close to you as you could manage. His strong arms wrap around your waist, lifting you from the floor, leaving your toes barely skimming across the stone tile. His shoulders heave as he struggles to catch his breath, his eyes searching yours as you finally separate for air. You slide your hands over his shoulders, realizing he was making no move to set you down. Slowly, a lopsided grin spreads across his lips.

“You missed me, hm?” Your cheeks immediately begin to burn at the statement.

“Shut up.” You manage to respond through a flustered giggle. You let out a pleased hum as he pressed his lips to yours in a few short, sweet kisses. “Take me home.” You command.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, a playful smirk toying at the corners of his lips. “Yes, ma'am.” He sets you down for a moment to readjust his hold on you, his arm sliding behind your knees as he pulls you back into his chest. Swaying you with every step, Falk carried you back to his quarters so you could enjoy the rest of your evening alone.

Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @belnovacaine @obsessed-and-possessed @crexpy34 @eentheekipekke @iamsarahsaysso

[blakenation1]

Dead Poets Society on Snapchat

facechat, snapbook, whatever it is.... I will make this joke every time facebook/snapchat is mentioned ANYWHERE.

OKAY Knox sends Charlie so many videos of him ranting. like he's setting the phone down- sorry SLAMMING the phone down- eyebrows raised, wide eyes, hands thrown out in front of him, "CHARLIE.... you will never guess what happened to me today-"

Okay CLEARLY, Charlie uses a bunch of stupid filters. He puts them on anybody and everybody when they are not paying attention. Videos them with the filter on, with Charlie's muffled and held back laughter and snickering in the background.

Neil has a private story and posts on it all the time. Probably posts a lot of stuff of him at the theatre, like silly things that happen at rehearsal, him and Ginny doing silly stuff, him and Todd on late-night adventures, etc etc etc

Cameron literally never gets on Snap, maybe like once a day or so, because him and Charlie have a like 1,000 day snapstreak and they both refuse to break it because it is so long. They have had it like ever since they were in middle school or some crazy shit like that.

One time Cameron's phone died and their streak was about to break. Cameron uses Todd's phone and logs into his snap just to fulfill his streak with Charlie 😭

Todd also hardly gets on snap. Gets on there to check out Neil's story, reply to it, etc. RIP Todd Anderson, you would love Tumblr, Pinterest, and Spotify combo.

After Charlie, Pitts is the next one that would be on Snap the most. I think he would love the silly filters. I can see him having a cat or something and sending the poets silly videos of silly filters he put on his cat, AWWWW

Okay, Meeks either does not have Snap, or just got it incase he met someone and wanted their contact info or something like that.

I cannot see Meeks being on snap I DUNNO I cannot explain it-

I have talked about this once before and I will talk about it once again, Charlie Dalton would love Snapchat.

He has streaks with all the poets (that are willing to have one with him), he has a private story that he posts on ALL the time, him and Knox are each other's #1 bsf, because Knox is on snap all the damn time too.

CHARLIE WOULD HAVE A DUMBASS BITMOJI LMAOOOOO

Like he would always dress it up in some stupid shit

I'm talking it's mid-july and his bitmoji has on a Christmas tree costume.

Chris posts on her main story every once in a while, but it would be cute

Like oh she's at the beach, she's gonna take a pic of the ocean, put the location sticker thingy on it and post

Would love it though, love u Chris

Ginny would probably be a lot like Neil and Todd combined, doesn't get on snap a TON, but likes posting silly stuff on her private story

I like to think all the poets have a group story together, and a group chat, obvi

Knox would have the cutest bitmoji, like he'd have it in a cute little outfit

One last thing, Charlie would literally get so many people's snap. Like oh, he just met this guy at some restaurant, he has his snap within ten minutes. He loves asking people for their snap.

OKAY another thing- I can see Ginny loving the zodiac sign feature on profiles, like "omg Chris look- he's a Scorpio" and what not

Charlie's snapscore is insane. Do not ask him about it he will brag and talk about it for five minutes.

[soobrat]

this isn't whining, this is an explanation and a request for information. if not, I may not be active anymore

So recently I've become a more disciplined and driven person. If you don't know, I'm in college and I have a job. I've recently realized my dream and have set aside hours of my time to dedicate to it. I've also put more time towards things like skincare and exercise and meditation etc. Why am I saying this? Because after hours of productivity, I have a gap. Free hours where I don't have anything that needs to be done. This is where I decide to write for you guys. And every time I do, I wonder if it's a good use of my time. I wonder if I should use that little time for video games instead.

You are free to ignore this, but just being transparent, that makes it more possible that I don't log in again. I used to be afraid of addressing this head on as to not offend or upset you guys, but honestly vitriol and annoyance would be better than the embarrassing silence I'm met with. This isn't coming from high levels of emotion, I'm actually very calm and kind of excited to finally get this off my chest. These are just the facts of what's going on in my brain.

If you just want to know what to do to guarantee I'll stay, scroll to the bottom of this. If you don't care that much, that's cool too.

I'm working on Mosquito part three because I realize it's been much too long since it's been updated. I'm busy, but still. And I can't even have fun with the story I admittedly really like because the entire time I'm overthinking. You see, when a story doesn't get notes, that in itself isn't the problem. The problem is what's in between the lines. Did this not get notes because people didn't like it? Does this topic bore them? Do they not like idol/celebrity aus? And while I'm writing, I can't stop nitpicking what I think is causing the eerie silence.

I used to be spoiled. Fics like loosen up, brat/slut, oblivious were very well received. I would be reblogging feedback constantly, see notes fill up my notification center, I would get the message. I did take a lengthy hiatus and stopped updating as fast, but when I finally came back, people would never guess my follower count by my engagement.

Don't be fooled though, this number has been hovering around this for possibly a year, maybe even longer. It dips and then rises by a few and then dips again. Repeat. I started to think that this just wasn't a lot of followers. In the grand scheme of things, it ain't. But then I look on my dash and see a writer thank their readers for 300 followers. I click on their page and a fic they posted yesterday have ONE HUNDRED times more notes than a fic I posted several months ago. And it's not just a fluke, most of their fics are this way. People who have been writing as long as I have and have a similar follower count (I assume) have very high note counts as well. Some of them even have spotty posting schedules and have had lengthy hiatuses.

Again, I want to stress that this isn't coming from heightened emotions or jealousy. Honestly it's mostly confusion. Wondering if I did something wrong. The closest I've gotten to getting emotional is with the embarrassment. I see other creators get flooded with asks and response to their normal posts just talking about their day. And when I do it, radio silence. Again, this sometimes happens with writers with a fraction of my follower count.

I'll make a confession. I have been sending myself anon asks. Which ones are me? That's for sherlock holmes to deduce. Why did I do it? I've already admitted it, it's embarrassment. I feel embarrassed when I post something and am met with crickets. I honestly feel pathetic.

I am diagnosed with anxiety so I'll chalk up the following to that: I have come to the conclusion that I annoy you guys. Even that I annoy other writers since I don't have many writer friends on here. It's gotten to the point where I feel like every interaction I make with anyone on this website in any way is annoying someone. When I changed my theme and no one commented on it at all, My mind automatically went to "God the theme is obnoxious and embarrassing" and I already want to change it despite all the time I put into it.

Can you see now why I dread opening up Tumblr? I dread opening up docs of my fics for this reason. Idk how to transition so I'll just pivot to my next point.

My fics have a head scratching amount of notes. This started around when I posted Industry Babies and Amusement, when I was genuinely shocked by the lack of notes. I stopped Mortal Sin out of embarrassment because I posted a part and it only had ONE note for DAYS. Let me show you the best performing recent fic:

This is Mosquito pt. 1. I'm very proud of this! It made me so eager to continue the series. In hindsight, this is still a negligible amount of notes, and a chunk of these are ICYMI reblogs from me, but I'm still happy about it. Here's part two even with a lot of ICYMI reblogs:

I'll be honest, this was a head scratcher. This has barely budged since then, too. The message I ultimately received is that people won't read if there is 0 smut. Well? That fucking sucks because this is a slow burn fic! And honestly I don't want to throw in Soobin randomly fucking random girls just so people will read.

I also recently posted the final part of FUML. Final parts always get the most notes (I always assumed people just skipped to the last part which always perplexed me) and here's how that did (with ICYMI reblogs):

This is so so good and I'm so grateful. And it got a lot of notes very fast.

Now I did two requested fics, mind you this is the amount of notes they got with NO ICYMI reblogs:

Now, I'm about to say that this is pretty damn good, because I actually think so and I'm thankful for it. But every so often I kinda sit there and think about how it feels like I'm begging for pocket change. This feels so conceited and ungrateful of me. But remember, the reason why we're even talking about this is because my time has become a lot more valuable, and to be frank, the notes are making writing fanfics seem like a bad way to spend my time.

I'll be sad to go, but after all this, you have to understand while I'm hesitant to stay. I'd have to be a narcissist to think anyone actually sat and read through all this so I'll do a little TL/DR:

The lack of engagement has changed from a little disappointing to mixed signals being sent about what you guys want (hence all the polls)

The lack of banter and casual asks or just engagement to my casual posts has made me a little embarrassed compared to writers with similar follower counts or less followers

The simple act of not liking a post affects the overall notes and can harm the chances of a fic being posted, or send a message about what you want to see

I get the unreasonable feeling I annoy you guys and other writers so frankly it makes opening tumblr or interacting with this blog in any way just. not. fun.

I forgot to add this in the doc but to be frank (again), it kind of annoys me to see a fic get little to no interaction, and then I reblog a picture of an idol and all of a sudden my followers are acting. Juuuust being honest.

As a reader who doesn't want to see you go, what can I do?

Be honest! Now, I'm not asking for lengthy dissertations on why my writing is bad. I'm not looking for writing criticism. What I am looking for is for the people who are silent readers or just straight up scroll past what I post, tell me why. Don't be afraid to hurt my feelings. Is it my posting schedule (or lack thereof)? Is it because you just don't feel the same as you did when you read my older stuff? Or do you just never bother with pressing the buttons? The silence is worse than whatever you have to say.

Let me know that you always press like on my fics, but are just a bit shy and don't like leaving comments or asks. This is totally fine by the way, knowing you exist is enough.

Be more active from now own, reply to posts, send asks, reblog and just keyboard smash in the replies. ANYTHING is good. Don't take this as me scolding you, just as a suggestion in case you wanted to know how to help.

I won't be sending myself anons anymore (yeah... if you missed that, scroll up the the indented section) so if you see my blog in it's natural dead state, disrupt the deadness! You'll actually make my day.

If this flops, I'll still proooobably use my main acc. But honestly I'll probably just be on my poll acc (@kpolls ) because it's actually really fun lol. See you all on the flip side!

Mal

[bitemegamer]

Log 01: A Note and Meeting Qiu and Tamarack (Long Post)

Something about this intro... It makes my heart ache in the best way possible. It's the start, the start to a new section of a new life. It is the Fall, the air is cooling down and I can feel it hitting my nose.

*Forgive me, I shall be using MC thoughts as that of my own and basing things off of how I would react, I shall be using first person writing

I decided, since my MC is 10 and I was a little bit of a nut at this time, I would have him believe that it was a ghost that poked him instead of him being rational about it.

He gets greeted with this paper, and... Honestly, how WOULD your little kid thoughts (esp that of someone who did believe in ghosts) think this meant?

*I blurred the last name for my own reasons, thank you very much*

I really, truly wished to be Nancy Drew or one of the Hardy Boys. I spend so much time watching mysteries with my mom. Probably way too much time.

Too bad I am going to break those rules, Mother! Muahahaha! I am a little troublemaker. Just kidding. However, it's okay. I have a way to bend the rules... Just a little bit ;)

*Proceeds to go to the woods, which to me feels like straying even further??? tbh, knowing myself as a kid, I would have done this without thinking too deeply*

Oh where shall I be going? On a cool quest! Off I go to the amazing and great unknown!

WHAT??? Man... :( I know for a fact I would have been so upset, yet a little relieved. Had I gone further into the forest, I might have freaked out just a little bit.

The ghost inhabits this building.

Also, random thought/feeling/vibe that I am feeling... This reminds me so much of when I was a little kid doing my own thing, just wandering about and feeling like the whole world was amazing and whimsical. As a kid, I would always go out of my way to have some sort of fun and adventure... Even if that meant getting lost or making something out of nothing.

A RACCOON!

If I end up dying, let it be known that I met the end of my life with the coolest animal ever.

I'm sure said kid feels very different about a total stranger being in their backyard climbing up their fort.

lol, he thinks I'm quirky...

I mean... You were the one who sent the note... Right? Right? Oh God, never mind--

Don't look at me like that *SOB SOB* I'm trembling over here as if I am some sort of scared little grey hound!

Nice to meet you as well, Qiu!

*Snorts*

OCD Autism meeting and seeing someone with ADHD for the first time be like (joking):

I decided to be a little more nicer to him and politely just point it out to him:

This honestly does beg the question for me... How often has Qiu lost something simply from people just not telling him that he dropped his pages.

That's it, Bud. You. Me. We're going to be in it together. You're never going to lose something like that again while I'm around you.

He'll listen to me, but he will have no idea what I am talking about. At least he tries.

Making art out of trash... I see.

Yeah... Maybe my joke about ADHD might not be as much of a joke as I thought it was.. Hm...

Oh... OH... She's so cute, she makes me wanna cry..

Tamarack really went: 'Wow, okay, *bye*.

Well... Since I have exceeded my image limit for this post, I do believe that I can have this a closing moment... As of now, my MC has met both of the wonderful romantic/friend interests and I think they're both so wonderful!

I know that I am currently playing the Demo at the moment, but goodness this is so cute. This reminds me so much of my days after school and spending time with my friends around this time period.

I can't wait to finish this intro out and write more about my silly little thoughts... Until then, I hope you guys have enjoyed my little comments. I love doing that when I play games.

[lost-my-sanity]

Luffy not realizing you’ve been flirting with him Drabble… this was requested and I wasn’t sure what gender to make it so I played it safe and made it gender neutral so everyone can enjoy it

I walk along the deck of the sunny, it’s been kind of boring lately. We’ve just been sailing from one log post to the next, we’ve been at sea for days on end at this point and I’m getting a little bit stir crazy. An idea pops into my head…

I should go bother Luffy. I’ve held a certain attraction to the rubber captain for a while now.

I haven’t been discreet about it either. It’s come to a point that the rest of the crew is taking bets on when he will finally realize how I feel about him and if he’d reciprocate.

Often I will cuddle into him, constantly searching him out and spending hours on end talking to him, flirting with him shamelessly even if he doesn’t realize that’s what I’m doing.

Sanji is still a little pissed about it, he says a “beautiful being ” like me shouldn’t spend a single thought on a guy like Luffy. I can’t help myself but to always find myself drawn to him.

Maybe it’s the way his eyes twinkle when he gets a crazy idea, or the conviction he has in following his dream to be king of the pirates, it’s definitely the way he would sacrifice himself for any one of us in a heartbeat, or anyone that offers him meat for the matter…As I continue my walk I notice him sitting in his favorite spot on the head of Sunny’s mast.

“Hey, Luff!” I call out with a smile, eyes twinkling in the bright sunlight. The captain turns to me with a bright smile.

“Hey! He responds and launches himself down to stand next to me.

“I’m bored, and what better way to relieve the boredom than spending it with my favorite captain?” I say looking at him from beneath my eyelashes.

“I’m your only captain… wait unless you count Ussop, but he’s not a real captain!” He pouts at me and I want nothing more than to kiss his pouty lips.

“Well… you might be my only captain, but you aren’t the only captain” I tease him, tickling his sides.

“But I’m the only captain that matters, right?!” He asks in between giggles

“You’ve always been the only one that matters, Luffy” I said seriously while still smiling at him.

“Aw! You matter to me too!” He says wrapping his arms around me several times, squishing his face against my own.

“Hey, Luffy… have you ever thought about maybe finding someone for yourself?” I ask testing the waters.

“Like someone for our crew? Well I like who we have now, you guys are awesome! But I guess I wouldn’t mind if someone else joins us.” He states while still squished against me.

“No, I mean like romantically. I have no doubt that you’ll be king of the pirates but wouldn’t you like to have someone to rule by your side?” I ask in all seriousness.

“I guess I’ve never really thought about that if I’m being honest… I mean sure I’d like to have someone, but I’ve never thought someone would be interested in me like that.” He says honestly while rubbing the back of his raven haired locks.

“What if… what if someone did like you, do you think you’d be able to like them back?” I ask, eyes searching his face.

“Well… I think so but it would depend on who they are, if they understand my dreams.” Luffy responds with all sincerity.

“…what if that person was me?” I speak softly afraid of what was about to happen next.

“Whatya mean? Ya gotta crush on me or somethin’?” He asks, eyes comically wide.

“Well, yeah Luffy, I have for a while now.”I admit with a shy smile on my face.

“Why’d ya not say anything before?!” He exclaims, throwing his arms into the air and stretching them far into the sky before snapping them back down to normal size.

“Ya mean I coulda been kissing ya this whole time?!” He yells, catching me completely off guard. I stumble back at how loud he was.

“Kissing me the whole time? What do you mean, Luffy?” I ask, brows knitted in confusion.

“I like you too! Silly!” He says, teeth in a wide grin as he pulls me in closer again.

“Never thought you saw me as anything more than the captain.” He states calmly, still smiling

“You really didn’t know I liked you? What about all the time we spent together, my blatant flirting?” I ask trying to find out if he truly didn’t know or not.

“Thought you did that with everyone!” He responds back.

“Nope, just you, rubber boy” I state honestly.

Luffy pulls me in closer, our noses touching at his point.

“Well, that’s settled then. You’re mine now.” He smiles and kisses my lips leaving my face to tint red and my own lips to curve up into a smile.

“Yeah, I guess it is settled then… I’m yours”

[12timetraveler]

Something In The Orange

Chapter 13

Summary: In the aftermath of the big reveal, reader finds herself at a crossroads.

Notes: Hey all. I just wanted to say thank you all so much for your constant support. Just a few days ago marked one year since I posted the first chapter of this story. I honestly never expected so many loyal readers who comment every chapter. I get so excited to read your reactions every time.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. Especially after the pain of the last one.

As always, blame typos on my phone's autocorrect system. One day I'll go through and edit all of it.

As per usual, below is a little sneak preview. Read the full chapter and the full story on AO3

You must be logged in to an account to read my works on AO3. Blame AI Scraping for that.

You'd think that returning to the place that you'd called home for a decade would be comforting. But all it did was serve to highlight how lonely you were.

It reminded you of how you'd felt after your granny passed. Couldn't even hold a funeral due to the pandemic. Just hired some grave digger to bury her in the family plot and that was that. You were all alone.

Going to university, making all those friends, meeting Hosea, it had saved you from that lonely feeling. You'd finally had a herd of people who cared about you. You had a family. But you'd gone and ruined that, and now you were alone again.

You were convinced it was your punishment for some unknown wrong: loneliness. Now you'd ruined your found family, possibly destroyed an actual blood family too. You had a hard time imagining a world where Arthur could forgive his father. The two had been thick as thieves but now they were separated but this giant rift, with John likely caught in the middle.

And the loneliness was your reward.

The friend group of course was blowing up at the drama. You couldn't stand to look at the group chat, but they all sent you private messages (except Arthur, though that was no surprise). Their reactions ranged from shock to concern. None of them seemed outright angry, though you wouldn't have blamed them if they had.

Sadie was the most persistent of all of them, texting you nearly every hour for three days just to try to find out if you were alive. Finally you texted her back, if only to stop her from calling that reality show bounty hunter guy to come and track you down.

This satisfied her for about a little while. At least she knew you were alive. Though she made you check in with her multiple times a day.

Your first week back in Brandywine was mostly a blur. You spent most of it crying, occasionally cracking open a bottle of liquor and downing it at an alarming rate. Though there wasn't much alcohol in the house, and you ran out pretty quickly.

After that you hardly left your bed, alternating between fitful sleep, hysterical crying, and long stretches of dissociation. You knew you should try to pull yourself together. This wasn't healthy. You should get it together and do something instead of just wallowing in your mistakes.

But the loneliness had a grip on your heart that rivaled anything else. Like shackles chaining you to a prison wall. You were unable to do anything to help yourself. Could hardly remind yourself to eat most days. You'd try to watch something, read something, do anything but lay there. But you were held down by the monster tendrils of your depression.

The first time you really managed to snap out of it, even for a moment, was when you were pulled from your dissociation by a knocking at your door. At first you felt nothing but confusion, almost like you didn't even know what knocking at the door meant. Slowly you seemed to come around. Though you were now confused as to who may be knocking at your door.

You considered ignoring it. You didn't really have the energy to entertain. Or to face what you'd done. But still the insistant knocking finally dragged you out of your bed. Slowly you descended the stairs, not sure who could be knocking.

“Dove, please,” Hosea's muffled voice carried through the door.

[emikotatsuya]

Sensation's Rewrite Prologue

I decided to post the finished rewrite for the prologue here on Tumblr just so people can get a feel for some of the additions and for some new readers to hopefully look forward to when I'm done rewriting Sensation. Anyway, I hope you lovely readers enjoy it!

Regarding human nature, morality is questioned in almost every decision they make. To survive in this world, they make so many drastically different choices that humans like to put into the vague terms of Good and Evil. Humans are also hypocritical creatures, acting on their selfish desires and beliefs. One person will choose and be seen as a good person, while someone else will make the same decision and somehow be seen as the bad guy. The lines are blurred so often that there never seems to be an actual line between those opposing sides. It's easier to call it a gray area, but only some people are satisfied with just that. Humans need constant reassurance that they are making the right choices. That they're the protagonists of their own story, and any minor inconvenience is the antagonist.

In the depths of a hidden world, behind the general public, those lines are more thought out and clearly stated. Forces beyond normal human comprehension exist and sometimes threaten their lives without them ever knowing. All because they don't harbor the necessary eyes to see it. Behind the scenes, the more or less good guys are Jujutsu Sorcerers. Those men and women have been born with the ability to see cursed spirits and can harness the cursed energy those spirits are made of to defend humanity from them. 

As for the bad guys, it is easy to say that cursed spirits are the set-in-stone villains. They are primarily mindless beings that move on instinct. However, some have become more powerful and evolved to be able to think and even talk in some cases. They may even gain a humanoid form if lucky, usually only present in powerful cursed spirits. That said, it goes without saying that Jujutsu Sorcerers are not all harbingers of goodwill. Having powers no average human has can quickly go to the head. Even though this happens, you never see a cursed spirit trying to be a good Samaritan. Right?

I thought about what it would be like if that wasn't the case as I walked down the dirt path deep within the woods outside of town and headed to the tiny log cabin I called my home. Almost two decades ago, I opened my eyes for the first time. Born from nothing but the forest's foreboding, I took my first steps. I had wandered the forest aimlessly for days without knowing why I existed. The first few months after my alleged 'birth', I ran into my first cursed spirit. 

It was small and looked more like a ball of flesh than anything else. When it had noticed me, it had coward away. Sensing something that I could not perceive myself at the time. Something compelled me to believe that somehow, we were the same species, or at least made of the same thing. Though, of course, at the time, I had no idea what a cursed spirit was or how they were made. It didn't take long for my curiosity to turn into panic once the cursed spirit realized I wasn't a threat and somehow bit my hand clean off. I don't remember what happened next, but when I came to, the curse was nowhere to be seen, and my hand was somehow back. After that, I made a conscious effort to stay away from cursed spirits. I was scared I was going to get attacked again.

About a month later, I finally found my way to town outside the forest. That was when I discovered what humans were. I didn't go down immediately, scared they would harm me like the curse did. I watched the humans go about their lives from the cover of the forest's darkness. For a bit, that was enough. 

I was simply content on watching. Humans were so fascinating; they were of different shapes and sizes with similar forms. They were social creatures, I learned soon enough, and eventually, I longed to be down there with them. One day, I noticed a cursed spirit had wandered from the forest and crawled down to the town. That was when I first learned of the basic instinct of cursed spirits to prey on humans. 

I desperately wanted to go down there and help, warn them of the dangers, but my fears had held me back. However, I didn't have to in the end, as a jujutsu sorcerer had been notified of the attack and had come swiftly to deal with the problem. They didn't sense me by some miracle, but I saw firsthand how strong they could be and how they killed cursed spirits without hesitation. I remember being scared to death at the thought of returning to the forest's edge after that, wondering If I would be the next one for the slaughter. Eventually, I gathered some courage and resumed my people-watching.

One day, by mere accident, I somehow changed my form. I barely noticed the change, but my eye level was lower than usual. I was suddenly shorter than I was initially. While wandering around the forest and eventually finding a river near where I live now, I was shocked to see a human face staring back at me. As embarrassing as it was, I thought a human was trapped under the water, unable to fathom that I could ever look like that. 

However, after my initial panic to rescue said human, I realized that it was actually me that I was staring at. I remember a wave of relief washing over me to finally not see the monstrous face I had grown used to seeing in my reflection. Since that day, I never changed back. I traveled down to the town below that day with my new form. I had apparently taken the form of a five-year-old child, so the adults who had first noticed me freaked out when they saw me. I was caked with dirt, my hair was matted, and I was naked. Clothes, sadly, did not come with the transformation, though at the time, I didn't know the importance of clothes.

Before I knew it, one of the townspeople rushed me to their home and threw me into a warm bath. Scrubbing away all the dirt and grime before almost tearing my hair as they brushed the knots out. They had bombarded me with many questions, all worried for my well-being. It was overwhelming. Now that I think back on it, they probably thought I was abused and had been abandoned in the forest to die. After all, no 'child' looks like that if they came from a loving family.

However, at the time, I couldn't answer them even if I had wanted to. I didn't know how to speak or dress myself. I remember the look on an elderly woman's face when she noticed how confused I looked when she had given me a tiny dress that one of the other townsfolk had run out and bought for me. Her look of pure sadness at the realization that I didn't even know how to put clothes on will forever be ingrained in my memory. The townsfolk there at the time had spent a good few hours trying to get clothes onto me. 

I had apparently struggled and squirmed so much that they had to hold me down just to put the dress on. When they were done, I finally looked like an ordinary little girl. After everything slowly settled down, the townsfolk decided what to do with me. Some tried to find my parents, though that was arduous since I didn't have any. They tried to take me in at some point, but I ran back into the forest. After all, that day was the first time I interacted with humans, and it was too much too soon.

The next day, after calming down, I returned to the town. The townsfolk had been worried and kept watch at the forest's edge. Only a few wanted to search for me in the forest because it was considered haunted. I wasn't surprised because of the number of Cursed Spirits born in it. That was when I met my Papa, a young man who had heard of what had happened and was the first person on the scene when I was spotted the next day. 

He had asked me if I wanted to live with him, but the thought of him or anyone finding out about what I was, or another Jujutsu Sorcerer coming by, had ended in me, no matter how tempting the offer had been, outright refusing him. Even if it wasn't a dangerous offer, the forest had become my home, and I couldn't bear to leave it after all this time. After some discussion, they eventually decided I would join Elementary school. Before I could join, however, they had to set up a place for me to stay. So, some builders from the village ended up renovating an old abandoned cabin in the woods. 

For the first year, one of the school teachers would walk up to the cabin and walk me all the way down to the elementary school. I would have dinner with the young man, who would walk me back to the cabin. The other kids in my grade had thought I was weird since I didn't talk, and eventually, a rumor circulated that I was an orphan. I didn't make any friends because of it. Over that first year, my form slowly changed, aging as if I were a human; after that year, I finally learned how to talk and, eventually, how to read and write. However, I had a terrible stutter whenever I did talk, as my vocal cords were not used to it.

About a month after I could talk a sentence, the young man brought something up during dinner one night. "So, what's your name, little one?" I looked up from my food to look up at him curiously. "M-m-my n-name?" I barely managed out. Ms and Ns at the start of words were the hardest to pronounce for me. "Yes, your name. A good little girl like you must have a wonderful name." I lowered my head to look back at the food, my hand tightening around the fork. "I don't have a n-name." Not long after I had said that the young man dropped his glass, causing it to shatter on the floor below; the noise made me flinch with how loud it was. "They didn't even give you a name?" 

I knew he meant to whisper it, but his emotions got the better of him. It confused me; why was he so angry? Had I done something wrong? "I-I'm sorry." His head snapped back at me, and he quickly threw his hands up. "No, no! It isn't your fault. It will never be your fault. It's just.." He trailed off. "I'll tell you when you're older; let me clean this up, okay? You continue eating your food," I nodded softly as I ate. The young man was hunched over on the floor, cleaning up the shards of glass and the water that had spilled everywhere. 

Once our plates had been emptied of food, I sat on one of the stools on the island in the kitchen while he washed the dishes. "So," He started. "Would you like me to give you a name?" My head perked up at that. A name? My own name? I couldn't help but shyly nod, giddy at the idea of receiving a name. He chuckled at my reaction and thoughtfully held his chin in his hands. "Hmm, I think I'll call you (Y/n), and for your last name, why not mine? From now on, you'll be (Y/N) Chibana." He grinned at me, "Awe- now that I think about it, I never told you my name earlier; sorry about that, kiddo, my name is Hisato Chibana. In my family, Chibana means 'A Thousand Blossoms.' You'll grow into that quite nicely. My little Hana."

That was the day my father officially adopted me. And he had wasted no time taking up his new role as my father. He was a patient man and never once got angry at me for my struggles to speak or if I was having trouble with my school work since I was starting school later than the other kids. Father had picked up everything and moved into the cabin in the woods with me not even two weeks after I started school. His neighbors had tried to stop him, warning him of the forest's dangers, but he simply smiled and said. "If I wasn't there for my daughter, then what kind of father would I be?" It was nice knowing he was there for me. It took me forever to properly warm up and see him as my Papa. I remember a day when he gave the principal an earful after he found out how some of the kids were making fun of the fact I was adopted since they couldn't exactly make fun of the fact I was an orphan anymore. 

When we got home that day, he sighed deeply and ruffled my hair as he told me to help him prepare the ingredients for dinner. "Don't listen to them, my little hana. You just have a different circumstance than them, but that doesn't make them better than you. You are an amazing young girl. I couldn't have wished for a better daughter," Is what he had told me, with a warm smile on his face. It had made him look so bright. I had clung to his leg for the rest of the night.

When I turned eleven, my happy life with my father ended. It was the middle of class, and I sat alone at one of the tables. The classroom was situated where there were fewer students than tables, and since the students were allowed to sit wherever they liked, I was the only one at my table. The teacher at the front of the room was teaching us multiplication when the phone rang. She told us to all settle down as he headed to the back of the class to answer the phone. "Yes, hello? Yes. She's here..what?" I saw the teacher go pale as her eyes landed on me, and I immediately knew something was up. "Ok..yes, I'll tell her. Alright, goodbye." 

The teacher hung up the phone."Chibana-San, please come with me." Everyone's eyes were on me as I slowly got out of my chair and followed our teacher out of the classroom. We didn't walk far, just to a different classroom that wasn't used at the moment; she sat me down at one of the tables. "Alright, Chibana-san, I must tell you some important news. It has to do with your father, Mister Chibana." I slowly nodded, my hands slightly shaking under the table as I feared the worst. "You see..while your dad was at work today, a little accident happened." The teacher looked at me with so much pity that I almost couldn't stand to look at her. "Is he ok?" I could barely hear my voice; I had spoken so softly. She shook her head, hanging low as she tried not to cry. After all, it wasn't every day you had to deliver news like this to an eleven-year-old. "Y-Your father got caught up in it, and he- he lost his life." In the end, she couldn't hold back the tears. And just like that, my world came crashing down around me.

Six years ago, my father died due to a workplace accident. They were working on construction, and some beams weren't tied correctly, so when the ropes gave way, my Papa was crushed under its weight when it fell. The information hit me like a ton of bricks at the time. The one person in my life who had helped me through each day, who cared about me, was gone forever. A week after his death, was when his funeral was held. 

Papa was beloved in town. He was an upstanding citizen who loved to help people. Never failed to put a smile on everyone's face, so it wasn't a surprise that so many people had shown up. I can't remember a single person there that day besides my teacher, but I remember the heavy feeling in my gut each time they looked at me in pity. Whispering to one another how dreadful it was for me to lose my father so young, all while I was still in earshot. Others, the more superstitious, whispered how it was my fault, that I must have been a bad omen. My teacher led me away shortly after the comments started getting out of hand. Only when I got home did I finally cry, finally began to fully grieve his death. For the first time in years, I was alone again. I didn't leave his room for a good few days. Soaking his pillows with my tears, I eventually believed those comments were accurate. Everyone at school believed it, after all, which only worsened the bullying.

Back to the present, and out of my depressing thoughts, I set down the groceries I had bought in town by the door. A sigh escaped my lips as I dug around in my pockets for my house key before opening the door. I crouched down to pick up the groceries before entering the cabin. "Papa...I'm home," I called out into the empty house as I closed the door behind me and locked it. Moving into the kitchen, I set the groceries down on the counter. I heard tiny footsteps and smiled softly as I turned around."Yes, yes, I'm home, Rose."

A few feet away was a pure white angora cat with heterochromatic eyes. The cat's eyes were blue and yellow, which reminded me of jewels. As I often shortened it, Primrose, or Rose, appeared shortly after Papa died. It was about a month after the funeral, if I remember correctly. But I could remember the night Rose came into my life so clearly.

After another long day at school, I only wanted to cry in Papa's room. Middle School was already hard to get through with all the bullying; now that Papa was gone, it felt more like I was trapped in hell. I set my backpack by the sofa before returning to Papa's room. I collapsed onto the bed and let out a shaky breath. It wasn't long before the tears began to fall from my face.

Every time I cried over Papa, it felt like another part of me was dying. How could humans even handle emotions like this? Doesn't it just eat them from the inside out? My arms wrapped around his pillow in a vice. Holding it tighter and tighter with every wail that left my mouth. The pain in my heart was unbearable. The moon shone through the window onto my form, and at that moment, it felt like I was being set on fire. I didn't want the light on me. I didn't deserve it. Not after everything I've cau-

A drawn-out mewl from the window snapped me out of my thoughts. The sudden sound caught me off guard, and I sat up, forgetting my grief only for a moment. A pure white cat with a slightly fluffy mane was on the window sill. The cat's eyes shun like jewels against the moonlight, and my eyes widened at seeing its eyes being two different colors. Its left eye was a beautiful honey color, and its right eye was a light blue. All things considered, it was a beautiful cat.

Before I could speak, the cat jumped onto the bed, startling me further. It walked over, unafraid, and laid down in my lap. It looked up at me and stared. Despite my initial shock, a soft, somber smile graces my lips. "Are you all alone too?" I wiped my tears and gently petted the cat on the head; in response, the cat meowed back as if in reply. "what's your name?" I looked the cat over. "It looks like you don't have an owner..you must really be all alone.." I looked that cat over, "I think..I'll call you Primrose."

Primrose tilted her head slightly, looking at me with curiosity. I shook my head, 'I've done enough reminiscing for one day.' I crouched down and petted her. "Yes, I know, you're hungry. Don't worry; I got you your fancy tuna." A soft laugh left my lips as I rummaged through the plastic bags and got out a can of tuna. The only brand that Rose will eat is an expensive one, but I can't bring myself to not buy it for her. Rose helped me through a lot of the heartbreak of losing my Papa. Now, as a Fourth-year in high school, Primrose remains my one and only friend.

I opened a drawer and got out the can opener. I opened the can and set it on the counter for Primrose to enjoy. After feeding my feline companion, I got to work on putting away the groceries. "Did you behave while I was away at school today?" I said as I looked over my shoulder and put some food in the fridge. Primrose, in response, looked away from me. Being an expressive cat, I could tell she was offended. "Oh, come on, you know I'm only kidding."

I threw away the plastic bags along with the now-empty tuna can. "Come on, Rose..let's say hello to Papa." We walked down the hall to a room adjacent to mine, and I opened the door. Across the room was a small shrine. I sat on the pillow in front of it and looked at the picture of my Papa. He was just getting into his thirties when he died, which came with the light facial hair he had started to grow. He had shaggy hair and eyes that always reminded me of honey. The highlight of the old picture was his bright, warm smile. One that barely ever left his face. One that I was so used to seeing.

I lit the incense on the shrine and clasped my hands together. "Hey Papa, school was okay today. It wasn't great, but it wasn't bad either." My eyes closed as I thought about my Papa. "My grades are doing good. I've been studying really hard as of late." My eyelids fluttered open as my eyes made contact with the eyes in the picture. I missed hearing his voice, feeling his warmth whenever he hugged me, and laughing at his cheesy jokes.

"I...I've been thinking about the past a lot today.." I couldn't look at his face anymore, and I looked down. "I'm...so sorry that I never told you...I hope you can forgive me from where you are in heaven..or wherever you are." I couldn't stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks as my hands fell to my sides, forming into fists as I dug my nails into my palms. "Would you still consider me your daughter if you knew what I am? Would you still call me your little Hana, knowing what my kind does to humans?" 

I felt like I couldn't breathe as I fell to my hands and knees and watched the tears fell onto the hardwood floor. "No matter how much I think about it, the guilt keeps eating away at my soul. Was I really the cause of your death? Did I doom you?" I jolted upward with a slight yelp as Primrose sunk her teeth into my arms."Ow! Rose, why did you-" I stopped as I noticed the distress in Primrose's eyes. I took deep breaths before letting out a long sigh as a half-hearted smile graced my lips."Thank you, Rose. I had another episode, didn't I?"

Primrose nuzzled her head against my arm and walked toward the door. My smile faded into something softer as I got up, glancing at my father's portrait. "I'll see you again tomorrow, Papa." I left the room with Primrose and closed the door behind me. "What would I do without you? You might as well be my emotional support animal at this rate." I watched Primrose walk toward my room, and I couldn't help but chuckle. "Right, you need your beauty sleep." I stretched my back before rubbing where Rose had bit my arm. "She bit me hard. Even left a mark, fun."

I decided that I was just going to skip dinner tonight and go back outside for a walk in the forest. So I headed for the door, unlocked it, and stepped outside. It was almost nighttime, and the sun was just about to set. My head tilted toward the sky to absorb the colors cast over it. 'It should be that time of day, right?' With that thought, I headed back down the path. Just up ahead was my destination, a small bridge that crossed over a river.

From what my Papa told me, this bridge was constructed years ago, and when the builders were grabbing stones to make up the bridge, they somehow found a big piece of emerald caked in dirt. Over the years, the dirt fell away because of rain, and the emerald was eventually revealed. Sadly, the townsfolk couldn't get it out because of where it was located on the bridge since the wall would have to be broken. Around this time of day, because of the angle it had been placed in the bridge, only during this time, when the sun started to set, did the sun's light shine through the emerald perfectly and make a beautiful design on the river's surface. Some myth was also connected to the bridge, but I can't remember it.

I stopped beside the emerald in the bridge and looked over the railing. On most days, it cast a nice green glow on the ripples of the water. Yet, today, it seemed to not be the case as the water almost had a red look. I rubbed my eyes several times to ensure I wasn't seeing things. 'That's never happened before. Is there dirt on it?' I peeked on the other side of the emerald gemstone and saw nothing. "Maybe it's a little early?" I whispered to myself softly before I took a deep breath. 'Something about this situation doesn't sit right with me.'

I shook my head and turned around. The last thing I wanted was to come face to face with another cursed spirit because I was stressing over a weird bridge. I headed back inside, locked the door, and headed down the hall and into my room. Primrose was lying on my bed, sleeping soundly. I crawled into bed, trying not to disturb her. "Good night, Rose." I closed my eyes and tried my best to go to sleep.

Underneath the river's waters lay a plaque, long forgotten. Words carved into it told a small tale of the bridge. "Beware thy soul who views the river red, For soon a terrible fate lies ahead. When visiting the gem of the river so fair, Pray your fate isn't worse than death, beware!"