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vanteguccir · 3 days

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You Make Loving Fun | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where the sun inside Matt fell in love with the moon inside Y/N; OR, 4 moments between sunshine Matt and grumpy Y/N.

Warning: Mentions of blood and pain.

Requested?: Yes, by anon

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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Y/N has always been known for her serious expression and sarcastic humor. She had a cynical view of the world and seemed to find fault with almost everything around her. On the other hand, Matt was the complete opposite. His smile was like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, brightening up any room with his contagious positivity. It was as if he was determined to find the good in everything, no matter how dark it was.

The two were in the same class together at Boston high school, part of the same group of friends, which meant they did a lot of group work together, and it was precisely there where their contrasting personalities often collided. Y/N was meticulous and perfectionist in her work, while Matt preferred to approach topics with a more relaxed and laid-back attitude. This often put them at odds, but it also created an interesting dynamic.

One afternoon, during a school work meeting at the triplets' house, Y/N was particularly grumpy. She had faced a series of setbacks in her home and was on the verge of exploding. Matt, as always, tried to cheer her up with his light humor and unwavering optimism.

"You should relax a little." Matt murmured with a smile as his right hand worked quickly with his computer mouse, putting together the perfect slide for the presentation that would take place the next day, using Nick and Alahna's notes and research. "Not everything has to be so serious all the time."

Y/N rolled her eyes from her spot on the edge of Matt's bed, pushing the notebook that rested on her thighs roughly, feeling frustrated with his persistent attempt to lift her spirits. She knew he was just trying to help, but at that moment, all she wanted was some peace and quiet.

However, something inside her changed when she lifted her gaze to Matt's smiling face, who was still holding the mouse as he watched her from the corner of his eye. In that moment, the girl saw beyond the surface, beyond the facade of constant happiness. She saw the genuine kindness in his eyes, the compassion in his smile. And for the first time, something inside her crumbled, breaking the wall that had held firm for so many years.

A small smile began to form on Y/N's lips, almost imperceptible, but still present. It was a smile that lit up her entire face in a way never seen before and made her eyes shine with an inner light that had long been dormant.

Matt was surprised to see Y/N smiling, abandoning his task instantly and turning his face completely towards her, trying to make sure he was actually seeing that. It was as if he had witnessed something sacred, something few were lucky enough to see - maybe only him. The brunette was speechless, simply admiring the sight before him.

"What?" Y/N asked, noticing the look of shock on Matt's face, her smile fading almost automatically, giving way to her usual frown.

"It's just…" Matt began, struggling to find the right words. "It's the first time I've seen you actually smiling. And it's so pretty."

Y/N felt shy by the compliment but also inexplicably happy. She had never realized how her smile could affect someone so deeply, especially someone like Matt, who radiated joy wherever he went.

"You should smile more-"

"Shut up."

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The night was calm when Matt returned from his hockey practice, but the mood inside the triplets' house was far from peaceful. He walked through his bedroom door with his shoulders hunched and his face pale, showing the anguish that consumed him inside and out.

Y/N, who was sitting on his bed reading a book while she waited for him - a habit created between them, and which his parents and brothers adored - looked up when hearing the door open. Upon seeing Matt, she immediately noticed something was wrong. Her heart sank while witnessing the boy's low stance.

"Matt? Hey, what happened?" She asked, setting the book aside and quickly standing up from her previous seat, walking towards him with a frown decorating her face.

Matt didn't respond right away. Instead, he broke down when his ears finally heard the voice he had waited for so many hours, tears flowing freely down his face. He was shaking, struggling to control his emotions as the weight of his feelings enveloped him like a dense fog.

"Hey pretty boy, breathe." Y/N ordered, pulling him into an awkward but loving hug. "It's okay. Just breathe."

Matt sniffed, trying to regain control of himself. He took a few deep breaths, following her instructions, before finally finding the voice to speak.

"It was at hockey practice." The brunette began, his voice wavering with crying and raw emotions. "One of the guys on the team... he said some horrible things to me about my performance, and I-" A sob interrupted his speech, his blue eyes closing tightly in an attempt to hold in the ugly sounds.

Y/N slowly pulled away, snaking her right hand from his bicep to his head, cupping his cheek gently, looking at his face for the first time that afternoon, her movements stopping suddenly.

The girl felt a wave of anger bubbling up inside her as she saw her boyfriend's face swollen and stained with blood in strategic spots, clearly having been punched by someone else. She clenched her left fist tightly, causing her fingers to take in a pale hue, her eyes flashing with contained fury as her chest tightened with the anguish she felt emanating from Matt's body.

"Who was it?" Y/N's firm and determined voice echoed through the room like thunder as her right hand gently turned his face from side to side, her hard eyes running over his injured skin. "Who said those things to you? No, even better. Who did this to you? I'll finish him off, I swear."

Matt's eyes widened instantly, surprised by her reaction. He knew Y/N could be tough when needed - all the time - but seeing her so determined to protect him left him speechless.

His cheeks took on a reddish hue, disguised by the blood and redness caused by crying, his lips pressed together in an attempt to contain a smile while his heart accelerated involuntarily, a small wince escaping his throat with the movement of his mouth.

"I'm fine, baby-"

"You're not, and after I'm done with whoever did this to you, he won't be fine either." Y/N interrupted him rudely, raising her eyebrows in an act of confrontation, as if she was confronting him to continue the lie.

"It's okay, sunshine. Just let it go. Please?" Matt's warm tongue escaped his lips, wetting them, while his blue eyes seemed to beg her to forget about the guy and focus on himself.

"Alright." The girl let out a loud, angry sigh, rolling her eyes as she stroked his blood-stained cheek gently. "Come on, let's take care of this."

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The restaurant was busy that night, with lively conversation and laughter echoing off the walls. Y/N was sitting at a table next to Matt and his brothers, trying to enjoy the meal despite the crowd around them. However, her already dark mood was about to deepen even further.

As Y/N cut into her steak with an air of concentration, she noticed a man at the next table out of the corner of her eyes. He looked arrogant, a smug smile playing on his lips as he said horrible things about a girl to his table-mates. But it was when he looked in Y/N's direction that she felt a chill run down her spine.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Y/N felt a wave of discomfort spread through her. She couldn't explain why, but something about that guy made her nervous, his arrogant and sexist comments causing her body to scream, almost begging for her to do something.

Matt noticed the subtle change in Y/N's expression and followed her gaze to the next table, running his blue eyes over the unknown man's figure. He frowned, confused by the sudden intensity of Y/N's gaze, practically feeling her fury emanating from her body.

"What's wrong, beautiful?" Matt asked in an almost imperceptible whisper, leaning towards her and bringing his mouth closer to her ear, keeping his eyes on the table next to them. "Why don't we like him?"

Y/N blinked, surprised by Matt's direct question. She turned her head towards him slowly, frowning and running her eyes over his curious and playful expression, their noses almost touching with their proximity.

"You're so annoying, do you know that?" The girl asked in a cynical tone, raising her right eyebrow as she assessed him with her eyes.

"But you still love me." Matt replied quickly, as if he already had the answer on the tip of his tongue. A smirk grew on his lips as he draped his right arm over the back of the wooden chair his girlfriend sat on, caressing the skin of her exposed shoulder with his fingertips gently.

"Doesn't make you less annoying."

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N was busy in the kitchen of the large room in her house that she shared with the triplets, preparing a special meal to welcome the boys' parents, Jimmy and Mary Lou, who were about to arrive for a visit in Los Angeles. She was determined to impress them with her cooking skills and make the couple's first day in the bustling city worth it.

While stirring a pan of sauce, Y/N heard footsteps approaching and soon Matt's figure left the small hall that led to their room and entered the kitchen with a beaming smile on his face, his feet taking him closer to his girl almost automatically.

"Hi sunshine, need help?" He asked, stepping forward to grab an apron and approach the stove, his blue eyes darting over all the ingredients laid out as his brain tried to process what she was making.

Y/N looked up at him, her face hardened with concentration as her right hand never stopped moving the spoon.

"No, thank you." The girl responded quickly, shaking her head and returning her gaze to the sauce below her. "I can do this on my own."

Matt frowned, ignoring her answer and rescuing a steak knife from the cutlery drawer, extending his free hand towards the still raw meat, ready to cut it into ideal sizes.

"Matt, I said I can do it myself." Y/N repeated slowly, as if she were speaking to a child, casting a furtive glance at him from the corner of her eye.

"I know you can, petal." The boy murmured softly, putting down the knife and raising his now free hand towards his girl, lightly pressing his warm palm against her still arm, caressing her skin. "But I want to be here with you to help in some way. It doesn't have to be everything or nothing."

Y/N sighed, feeling a little guilty about her own reaction. She didn't want to push Matt away, especially when he was just trying to be caring and helpful.

"Okay... I'm sorry." Her apology escaped in a barely there whisper, her teeth catching her bottom lip in a firm grip.

"What are we having for dinner today?" Chris's loud and excited voice echoed through the living room and kitchen as the boy climbed the stairs that led him from his room, interrupting the moment between the couple, eliciting a laugh from Matt and an eye roll from Y/N.

"None of your business."

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My requests are closed, but my asks are always open ♡

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @watermelonreid @fratbrochrisgf @elordilover @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

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thealternateuniverse · 1 day

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How did you handle it?

1st part here

A/N: Didn't expect the number of likes on the first part, thank you so much 😭

Also, I know now who does Paige's braids now. I saw her on tiktok.

Warning/s: Read at your own risk

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Following Ice's most recent live stream, Y/N's phone is constantly vibrating, and her Instagram feed is overflowing with follow requests and mentions. She didn't leave her apartment on the weekends after hearing from her teammates about their near-brawl on Friday night. She was trying to blow off some steam at the time, but she lost her cool and almost got into it. Azzi gave them a good earful, and Geno had more to say. Y/N apologized to her teammates, explaining that she was acting out of character at the time.

She felt a little better and forgot about her parents' divorce for a while. Not until her father texted her that he will be at her game next week. Dad is always the one who comes to her games; mom is too busy and cannot make time.

Frustrated, Y/N drops the dumbels.

"Yo! "KK, give me back my phone!" KK is running for her life, clutching Paiges' phone. Paige, on the other hand, looks terrified as if her life depends on with whatever is contained within her phone.

"Whaaaat! Dude, I just caught you stalking---asfghgjjhkjlhlk!" Paige caught up with KK and placed her palm on her mouth.

"Shut up!" She took her phone.

KK sounds like a dying goat now, with Paige's hands still on her mouth. Paige lets go of her and KK gasped for air.

"Shit, Hah! I just did not saw you do that P!" KK is shaking her head, laughing.

"I swear K, if you open your mouth I'll make sure that you will nev---" KK immediately zipped her mouth.

"You got it P! Your 'lil secret is safe." KK gave her a mischievous wink.

These two are as mischievous as ever.

Shaking her head, Y/N slips off her sweat-soaked muscle top, revealing only her sports bra. She could see Paige and KK's jaws drop from her peripheral vision. She turned towards them.

"What? "You guys have some saliva here." Y/N pointed to the side of her lip. The two appear to have come to their senses and instantly pretend to do something. Weird. It's as if they're seeing each other for the first time, taking off their clothes. Y/N twisted her hair into a sloppy knot and resumed lifting. She was halfway through lifting when Nika slapped her bum.

"Babe, I need you to braid my hair. Do you have a sec?"

She nodded to Nika and followed her. They walk past the others who were working out, and Y/N couldn't help but notice Paige and the way her biceps and deltoids popped while doing that damn pull up. Get a grip, Miller; you see your teammate doing this on a regular basis. Y/N reprimanded herself.

"So is mine eye enthralled by thy shape," Nika recited dramatically.

Nika came out laughing after noticing Y/N glancing at Paige.

"Don't worry, babe; she gets it a lot. And... Damn, did you just realized she's fine? You have to keep up; you have a home court advantage here." Nika winked. Y/N gave Nika a puzzled glance. It's not that she likes Paige; she just admires the muscles. That is it.

"I don't know what you're talking about, babe." Y/N said making Nika snort.

"Okay, alright. I'm blind, I can't see, must be my poor eyesight."

Y/N endured Nika's teasing while doing her hair; she doesn't want to appear defensive, so she allows her friend and pretends that Nika Muhl seeing her looking at Paige Bueckers didn't affect her.

"Thank you, Baby. "I love the braids." Nika blew her a kiss before they returned to their routines.

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

Paige glanced around cautiously before scrolling through her phone. She couldn't afford to repeat the same mistake that had led to her being caught by KK. She wasn't stalking, though; the algorithm following Ice's live had led her to Y/N's tagged photos and edits on Instagram. It was kind of annoying that Y/N was now known for being the "pretty girl" from the team instead of for her talent as a player. Paige had witnessed firsthand how great Y/N was during her time at Stanford. If it weren't for her MCL injury during her second year, she would have been neck and neck with Nika's stats in the last 2022-2023 conference.

"Girly, you are still not done? Man you are really living up to be a stalker ." KK tried to glance at Paige's phone, Paige was quick to hide it.

"I am not!" Paige responded defensively.

"Of course, why stalk when you can see her every day. Home court advantage." KK playfully raised her brows and gestured towards where Y/N is, shooting 3 point shots. Yeah, Paige mused to herself. Paige knows she's got the home court advantage, always playing on familiar turf. Y/N, on the other hand, is a social media ghost, her posts as rare as a shooting star, reserved only for strategic brand alliances. Just like she guards the offensive players on the court, she protects her privacy with the same intensity, keeping her personal life shrouded in mystery.

"You are not gonna like this." KK's gasp breaks the silence, drawing Paige's attention as she leans in, sharing her latest sports article discovery. With rapt interest, they both delve into the words, their silent communion speaking volumes as they absorb every line, lost in the world of sports unfolding before them.

Sports Agent Katherine Taylor-Miller Entangled in New Romance Amidst Divorce

In a whirlwind of events, sports agent Katherine Taylor-Miller finds herself at the center of media attention following news of her divorce from husband Craig Miller. The prominent figure in the sports world, best known for representing basketball star Breanna Stewart, is reportedly embarking on a new romance with Los Angeles' top firm lawyer, Drew Ross.

While Taylor-Miller has remained tight-lipped about the circulating photos online, indicating her involvement with Ross, sources close to the situation confirm that the divorce proceedings are well underway. The couple, who share a daughter, aged 22, are navigating this transition as their family dynamic shifts.

Adding a layer of complexity to the situation, their daughter, a talented athlete in her own right, has been making waves on the collegiate basketball scene. Initially playing for Stanford University during her freshman and sophomore years, she has recently transferred to the University of Connecticut for her junior year, following in the footsteps of her mother's client, Breanna Stewart.

The unfolding saga has captivated both sports enthusiasts and gossip followers alike, as speculation mounts about the implications for Taylor-Miller's career and personal life. As the situation continues to develop, all eyes remain on the high-profile sports agent and her newfound path forward.

Paige's confusion bubbles to the surface in her question. "Wait, so... that is Y/N's mom?"

KK nods solemnly. "Yep. Didn't expect that."

Paige's brow furrows as she scans the article again. "That article is nasty. It was unnecessary to mention, Y/N."

The two exchange a knowing glance before their gaze shifts towards Y/N, who remains blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in the tabloids.

KK weighs the options for a moment before nodding resolutely. "Very. She's not gonna like it. Do we tell her?" KK's gaze seeks approval from Paige, who meets it with a shake of her head, silently acknowledging the delicate situation and opting to shield Y/N from unnecessary distress for now. "She'll find out sooner."

KK lets out a low whistle, her disbelief evident in her tone. "Unbelievable. I never thought her mom is Katherine Taylor. That woman was a badass, but yeah, whoever wrote this has some unpaid rent due." Paige nods in agreement, a hint of frustration tainting her expression as they both recognize the injustice of the situation.

The sudden thud startles both Paige and KK. Their heads snap towards the source of the sound, only to find Y/N on the bench-side taking a water break, her hand suspended and her phone on the floor.

"That's what we're talking about."

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

Y/N absentmindedly follows her teammates to Subway after they decided to grab some lunch there. Despite the buzz of camaraderie around her, she's lost in her own thoughts, savoring the simple pleasure of a break from today's events. Just as she starts to believe her day couldn't get any better, her world is rocked by the unwelcome intrusion of her parents' divorce being publicized.

Her heart sinks as she grapples with the sudden exposure of her family's private turmoil. Y/N has always been fiercely protective of her personal life, preferring to keep it shielded from prying eyes. The earlier article had already crossed a line, but this latest development feels like a betrayal of trust, a violation of the boundaries she holds sacred. She can't help but feel a surge of anger and frustration at the unnecessary intrusion into her family's affairs, a bitterness that threatens to overshadow the sweetness of her teammates' company.

Y/N finds a glimmer of solace in the silent solidarity of her teammates. As they gather around the table at Subway, not a single word is spoken about the tumultuous news that has shaken her world.

In that moment, Y/N feels a profound gratitude wash over her, a deep appreciation for their unspoken understanding and respect for her boundaries.

"The salad won't eat itself," snapped Paige, jolting Y/N from her deep thoughts. Y/N mechanically took a fork, but her salad remained untouched.

"Eat up, Miller. You need your energy." Paige commandeered the fork and began mixing the salad for Y/N.

"How did you handle it?" Y/N's voice trembled with vulnerability, causing Paige to pause mid-stir.

Paige didn't respond immediately, her mind racing to grasp the depth of Y/N's question. It didn't take long for the realization to sink in—it was about the divorce.

"When your parents divorced? How did you handle it?" Y/N's eyes glistened with unshed tears, a vulnerability she hadn't intended to reveal. Paige felt a pang of empathy twist in her gut. Y/N's question caught her off guard.

"Nevermind," Y/N murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she wiped away the threatening tears. Determinedly, she finally began to eat her salad, hoping to distract herself from the emotional turmoil of the day.

As she savored each bite, Y/N made a conscious effort to push aside the weight of her parents' divorce. Her phone buzzed incessantly with texts and calls, but she only mustered the strength to respond to her dad via text. All she wanted was for their divorce to be finalized so they could all move forward with their lives.

Her thoughts drifted to the inevitable changes ahead. Her mom and dad would each go their separate ways, free to pursue new relationships if they so chose. While the idea of their family no longer being whole was a painful one, Y/N knew it was time to accept reality.

Above all, she yearned for one simple request: no more articles portraying her solely as her mother's daughter. She was determined to forge her own path, to carve out her own identity separate from her family's legacy.

-------

"You okay, babe?" Nika asked Y/N, slinging her arm around her shoulders. Y/N responded with her most convincing smile. "I'm fine," she assured Nika, though the skepticism lingered in her friend's nod. "Just so you know, we're here for you, okay?" Nika offered a comforting hug. "Thanks, babe."

As they strolled back to the university after lunch, Nika, Azzi, and Aaliyah had already forged ahead for their afternoon classes, while Paige had disappeared into god knows where. Y/N's afternoon lay open; no classes to attend. She pondered whether to take a stroll around her apartment's neighborhood or indulge in a swim in the pool.

Waving goodbye to her teammates as they reached the university's parking lot, she contemplated driving back home.

Sighing, Y/N parked her car and headed towards her apartment, only to be surprised by a waiting Paige Bueckers holding a pint of Ben & Jerry's chocolate fudge ice cream.

"Paige, don't you have a class or something?" Y/N asked, noticing Paige still in her training attire: a UConn Huskies hoodie, basketball jersey shorts, socks, and slides.

Paige handed her the pint without saying anything.

"You asked me how I handled my parents' divorce," Paige shrugged.

"W-well forget it. I didn't mean to ---"

"It was hard. I thought we were a happy family, that they had vows, through thick and thin, for better or worse type of shit. I was angry, wondering what could possibly make them decide they weren't meant for each other. They had me for Christ's sake. It hurt to think that one day they'd meet someone new and start over, and what about me if that happens?" Paige took a deep breath before continuing.

"The good thing is, I was able to understand that it's better to have that divorce than to pretend they're still happy. I saw how happy my father is with his new family, happier than he was with my mother... All I'm trying to say is, whatever you feel in your current situation is valid—all the thoughts running in your head, the what-ifs, they're all valid. You'll come to terms with it soon, just give yourself time to feel it. And don't forget, you have us. It sucks to be a divorce child if you don't have siblings. It's okay, Miller. You can mope, you can lash out, feel it all the way."

Y/N burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably, surprising Paige, especially considering they were in a parking lot. Y/N didn't know why the floodgates had opened—was it the news of her parents' divorce? The stress of the article? Or perhaps simply the ice cream? Regardless, she found herself releasing all the pent-up emotions.

"Christ, Miller. I didn't expect you to break down right here," Paige panicked, attempting to pacify her, though Y/N continued crying loudly.

Paige gently grabbed her hand, and together they walked towards Y/N's apartment, Y/N still sobbing loudly.

"People will think I made you cry." Paige said shaking her head.

They entered Y/N's apartment, with Paige leading the way as Y/N was too preoccupied at the moment. Paige settled Y/N on her couch and opened the ice cream she had brought. Y/N accepted it and took a spoonful, still teary-eyed.

Paige looked at her friend in disbelief, finding her oddly cute in this vulnerable state, with red, glistening eyes and puffy cheeks from crying.

They sat in silence, letting the ice cream provide comfort. It worked, as Y/N's tears eventually ceased.

"Thank you, Bueckers. I needed that cry and... the ice cream. How can I ever pay you back?" Y/N leaned her head on Paige's shoulder, grateful it was Paige who knew her favorite ice cream flavor.

Paige pretended to ponder the question. "You don't have to. Just get back to being yourself," she said, gently ruffling Y/N's hair. Y/N sighed in contentment.

"I mean it, though. Thank you for being here. I was resigned to being miserable today," Y/N said, her voice filled with gratitude. They exchanged glances, and Paige found herself momentarily lost in Y/N's mesmerizing eyes. There was something about them that drew her in. She quickly looked away, not wanting to get too carried away and do something she shouldn't.

"Yeah, it's nothing. Get yourself together, Miller," Paige replied, more to herself than to Y/N, feeling her ears grow warm.

"Are you okay? You seem... red?" Y/N asked, noticing Paige's flushed cheeks.

"Not as red as you are. You look ugly when you cry, Y/N," Paige remarked, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N stiffened at the comment. This was the first time she had heard Paige address her by her first name. The surprise on Y/N's face caused Paige's brows to furrow.

"What?" Paige asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Nothing, you've never called me by my name before. Or maybe you did, I just didn't hear you," Y/N shrugged, trying to downplay it. She didn't want to make Paige feel awkward.

"I just don't know what to feel hearing it from you. It sounds different," Y/N admitted.

Paige choked on her response, caught off guard by Y/N's vulnerability. This woman will be the death of her one day. -----------------

#paige buckets #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #kk arnold #nika muhl #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #paige bueckers x reader

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lizhly-writes · 3 days

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hi. it's sqh/yqy again. you're going to need to read the preceding segment of this for it to make sense.

1 - Critical Failure!

The thing about Yue Qingyuan was that he was really fucking good at this whole cultivation thing. It wasn't for nothing that OP protagonist son Bing-ge had to catch Yue Qingyuan in a trap first to get a good chance at killing him! Even now, years before he'd really hit his prime, Yue Qingyuan was the perfect model cultivator, with a strong and expertly trained body, and, relevantly to this situation, actually pretty fast and possessed of a very good reaction time.

All this to say, Shang Qinghua got out the window.

He did not get much further than the window, because Yue Qingyuan also dove out the window (gracefully!) and (less gracefully!) proceeded to bodily tackle Shang Qinghua.

There was some rolling and shouting and flailing involved. Let it not be said that Shang Qinghua went down without a fight! Or at least without some screaming and crying!

Yue Qingyuan still managed to pin Shang Qinghua down, because of course he did.

"I'm not a chair, stop sitting on me!"

"Just a moment, I really do--" Yue Qingyuan paused to deal with Shang Qinghua's elbow to his face and also slam it down so Shang Qinghua couldn't elbow him again -- "appreciate -- your concern. But there's really no need to bother Shen-shidi with these things, so if you could just -- hold still--"

"Hahaha, no way bro!" Shang Qinghua said, and bit him.

Was this a smart decision? Not really, but it sure was satisfying!

Yue Qingyuan made a noise that could have been an aborted swear. "Shang-shidi, I don't think that was necessary."

"Necessary is a subjective term!" Shang Qinghua said. "It's necessary to turn in paperwork, but have you seen how many people I need to chase down for that?? Clearly the definition isn't universal!"

"That's not the same --"

"It's absolutely the same!"

"You don't bite them!"

"And what if I did? Maybe I should!! Maybe they'll learn to fill out the requisition forms correctly then!!!"

"That isn't--" Yue Qingyuan exhaled. "This isn't... are you... still going to tell Qingqiu?"

"I don't know, am I???"

"It's... private. Please don't tell him."

"If I don't, will you?"

Yue Qingyuan laughed. It was an empty and unpleasant sound. "He wouldn't want me reminding him how I failed." His head drooped down, closer to Shang Qinghua's chest. "I broke my promise, Shang-shidi. Who wants to hear about that again?"

...Was Yue Qingyuan about to cry on him?

.Wow! This situation was already uncomfortable! It was about to get even more uncomfortable!

"If I say I won't," Shang Qinghua wheedled, "then will you get off me."

Having the thighs of a strong and beautiful cultivator on either side of him was the stuff of the shitty romance novels he still liked reading. Every man's dream! Super sexy! Except the romance novels never accounted for when the cultivator was about to have a nervous breakdown! Opposite of sexy, actually!

"You still want to tell him, don't you?" Yue Qingyuan said. "I don't think it'll be better that way. Even if it's you and not me -- especially if it's you and not me -- won't it be worse? Wouldn't he just be angry that I couldn't tell him myself?"

"Isn't this conversation pointless if you're not planning on telling him yourself?" Shang Qinghua said.

Yue Qingyuan looked down at him with big, sad eyes. "Qinghua, please don't say anything."

Ah? Aaah?? Was Yue Qingyuan trying puppy-dog eyes? That wasn't going to work, Yue-shixiong! Too bad! People did that on An Ding everyday! Shang Qinghua was immune! He had no sympathy!

"Don't cry on me," Shang Qinghua said.

Yue Qingyuan laughed again.

Somebody choked.

It was... not Shang Qinghua. It was very much a sound Shang Qinghua would make, but...

Shang Qinghua tilted his head back, and there it was. A little Qiong Ding disciple coming through the brush, scroll in hand, probably playing messenger boy. He was staring at them, wide-eyed and white-faced.

Shang Qinghua suddenly became horribly aware of his position -- Yue Qingyuan on top of him, straddling his hips, pinning his hands over his head, both of them disheveled and breathing hard. He'd been bucking up to try to get Yue Qingyuan off, but at first glance, it looked like... well, that he was, ha, trying to get Yue Qingyuan off. You know, the other way.

"Ah," Yue Qingyuan said, in the tone of someone who was experiencing the same revelation as Shang Qinghua and was just beginning to conceptualize the impact of it on his honorable and righteous reputation.

This would be really funny if Shang Qinghua was not involved.

"I see Da-shixiong is busy with private matters!" squeaked the little Qiong Ding shidi. "Sorry to interrupt! I'll come back later!"

"That's not necessary," Yue Qingyuan began, hastily straightening up. Ah, but that was too little, too late. Shidi was already way out of earshot and disappearing into the distance, clearly intent on respecting the privacy of Da-shixiong.

"So," Shang Qinghua said conversationally, "what are the chances your shidi is going to tell everyone not to disturb you because you're busy?" He put as much suggestiveness in the last word as he possibly could, just so Yue Qingyuan got the point.

Yue Qingyuan winced. "Yan-shidi is... not subtle."

"So everyone's going to know this happened."

"... Likely, yes."

"And they're all going to think we were about to fuck nasty outside."

"Um," Yue Qingyuan said.

Yue Qingyuan was still sitting on him.

Shang Qinghua let the back of his head hit the ground with a thump. "Fuck."

#sqh/yqy #svsss #my writing #shang qinghua #yue qingyuan

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kangals · 1 day

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way back in 2014, probably a few weeks or months after you posted that picture of boone with the stick on his head, i checked your blog out and so dearly enjoyed all the dogposting that i followed. i think you were the first dogblr blog i actually followed at the time, but it's been ages and my memory is bad, so i'm not fully sure. it wasn't long before then--2012 i think?--that i had gotten a new dog of my own, a border collie. iirc he and boone were just about the same age.

in 2018 i lost that blog i'd followed you with, and a lot of connections with it. i didn't return until 2021, and when i did, i didn't refollow most of the old blogs; i don't think i even really went looking for them. it took me a while to get back into the swing of using tumblr.

last september, my border collie had a sharp health decline, and i had to say goodbye. it's not the first time i've had to put a pet down, but i think it was the hardest. i'm still not over it. even just typing this now, i feel raw.

then in march or so, i made a new fandom friend who knows you, and i enthusiastically recalled following you before and how much i enjoyed it. i didn't even know about stellina, and now there's kep too! but... i also didn't know you'd lost boone. i followed because i still really enjoy your blog, and i love your collies too. and butters!!! so glad she's still here!

idk what made me look tonight... maybe because i talked about my old border collie with someone today. i went looking for the posts immediately around when you lost boone, because i guess some part of me wanted to know what happened. i spent the better part of an hour (maybe longer?) reading posts from the weeks before the decline, and then the loss, and then the deluge of old boone pictures after, and i've been crying pretty much the whole time just reading your posts and tags about him.

and this is a long and windy way to get to saying thank you. i'm glad you shared your grief, though that seems like a weird thing to say. there's something cathartic about crying over someone else's dog when you still hurt about your own, and knowing you're not alone in that kind of sorrow. boone was such a beautiful boy. i'll never forget that silly post that made me check your blog out in the first place, or the years of posts i stuck around for after. i wish i'd remembered to follow sooner, but the archive is still there, and it's so fun looking through all those old posts about him and his quirks and antics. he was amazing.

sorry for the length of this, i just... really wanted you to know that he touched yet another life, i guess. and i've been so deeply enjoying your posts about stellina and kep. i know it'll be a year soon... i hope there's some peace in how things have gone since he passed, and i hope the anniversary isn't too hard on you. thank you for sharing him with us.

i've been on tumblr for 14 years and this is, genuinely, the nicest ask i think i've ever been sent.

thank you - sincerely. there's been a lot of times over the course of this blog that i've felt like i was oversharing, or talking about pointless things only i cared about. i still so frequently start typing out a post only to stop mid-sentence and delete it because i can't help but think "no one cares about this." possibly it's why i like to talk about my pets so much - they're not me, but i'm the one who knows them best, so i get to say "hey look at this" and ramble and have people say "i'm looking" back. when boone passed, i lost that filter and i poured my grief out into this blog because it was the closest outlet i had. and to have hundreds of people not only acknowledge this but to commiserate, to reassure, to share their own stories - that helped healed me more than i can put into words. it's exactly as you said: there's a catharsis in grieving together.

i am sorry you also had to say goodbye. i wish i could say it gets easier, but i think that would be defeating the point of grief. your grief is your love and damn it if there isn't any act more loving in the world than choosing to say goodbye to an old, loyal dog. you think of how dogs were domesticated tens of thousands of years ago, of how human society and dogs have developed intertwined, of how we have records of ancient greeks and romans carving loving epitaths on their dog's graves, of how a prehistoric dog's skull was found with a bone placed in it's mouth after death, and you wonder if grieving a dog isn't one of the most consistent experiences in the whole of human history that there is.

i'm glad to know that this could bring you some comfort, in some way. it's incredibly touching to know that you kept me and boone in your thoughts for all this time. i am doing ok - i've been reflecting a lot as we approach the one-year mark. i'm not sure if i'll be able to condense those thoughts down into coherent words, but i'll do my best. i hope that my silly little pets continue to bring you some happiness, and that you've found peace with your own grief.

thank you, again - this is extremely touching and means a hell of a lot to me.

#i know exactly what you mean about reading posts about other peoples loss and grieving in camaraderie with them. i do that too #also mayhaps i am nosy sometimes and want to intrude. i cant help my nature to be a looky-loo #which is to say: you should never feel like you are intruding for doing so back to me.

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scekrex · 1 day

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I'm so very obsess with your Overlord!reader storyline, it's just so soft, like it give me the vibe of 'bird in a gilded cage', but in 'the world outside is ugly and cruel and I want you to be surround with beauty and comfort' kind of way, just quietly comfy.

Also a prompt, how about for some reason or another, reader has to go to an overlord meeting but Adam is rather clingy plus he hasn't went outside since reader brought him there so he decided to take Adam with him while also making it a night on the town kind of thing. It's Hell but with reader long time there, he manage to find decent enough places to take Adam to. Obviously they got bothered, some even offered to buy Adam, but with the fact Adam is a still a powerfull angel and reader is longlived Overlord despite his relative anonymosity, they had a fun enough date and made it home unscathed

I love Overlord!Reader x Adam so fucking much, keep em asks coming bc I'll write for em til I die. Their dynamic is just absolutely adorable.

Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3

I'm not likely to kick a head in, but I'll curb stomp a bitch if she objects at our wedding

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

“Adam,” you hummed softly as the first man wrapped his arms around your waist tightly. The entire week the former angel had tried to talk you into taking him with you, he had asked you over and over again but you had always refused. The world outside of the mansion was different, less pure and less safe. It was a battlefield, even without the exterminations hell was many things, brutal, bloody, cold-hearted and cruel. But safe enough for Adam to leave this place? No. On the other hand this realm would never be safe enough for someone like Adam to walk around freely, so the best you could do was to take him out with you, that way you could not only keep an eye on him but also prevent the first man to do anything stupid. And despite your mansion being shielded from the society of hell, you would not have to worry about him being alone at home.

“You can’t fucking leave me here, I wanna come with you to see what your ass is up to,” he pulled you flush against his body, his head resting on your shoulder. You sighed in defeat and that was when Adam knew that he had won, “Okay, you will keep me company for tonight’s meeting,” you agreed to his request and felt Adam’s grip on you tighten in excitement, a quiet, “Fuck yeah;” was heard from the man behind you. “After the meeting we could also stay in town a little bit longer than necessary and have dinner, if you would do me the favor and accompany me through that as well, darling.” The brunette placed a quick kiss to your jaw, “Having dinner with my very fucking famous boyfriend in town for everyone to fucking stare at us like we’re hot shit? Obviously I’m fucking in, babes.” Boyfriend huh? While the term sounded really pretty coming from Adam being directed to you, you had not expected the first man to use so meanful words to describe your relationship so soon, yet you were grateful the brunette mess was feeling the same way about you. “Then shoo, darling,” you chuckled softly as you pulled away from Adam’s warm touch and directed him to your shared bedroom, “Go get dressed, my dear.”

Well, Adam surely did not disappoint. Because for a reason that you had yet to understand he had chosen to wear the replica of the robe he had worn when you had found him nearly dead near the hotel. It was also the same robe the former angel had worn during exterminations in general, but who were you to judge your partner about his clothing choice? At least he was dressed appropriately for the meeting and that you thanked the lord for.

You and Adam had been the first to arrive after Carmilla, the others were yet to come. The top weapons dealer of hell eyed your company suspiciously, yet she did not dare to comment on it out loud, not when she knew the force of nature that Adam was and definitely not when she knew how defensive you were of the people close to you. “Carmilla,” you raised your voice as you took a sip from the tea that your old friend had offered once you and Adam had arrived. “Something is heavy on your mind, share your thoughts with me,” your eyes did not meet hers once, they were either on the drink in front of you, or on the handsome brunette man who had taken the seat right next to you. Carmilla eyed the two of you for a bit longer, then she spoke up, “You brought us the enemy, but I doubt you will have us let our way with him and show him the consequences of his actions.” Adam’s golden eyes were on you in an instant, he was not worried that you would hand him out, not at all. The former angel trusted you, he knew you would not treat him so gently at home for months and refused to take him with you to this meeting in the first place just to sell him to Carmilla and the other Overlords in the end. “No,” your voice sounded as tense as your body felt, was she trying to insult you? Did it seem like you were going to sell them Adam’s soul and body to have their way with him? The first man’s hand reached out for yours underneath the table and you took his offer of comfort gladly. “He is here as my partner, not as someone I will hand out to you. If you want his soul you have to tear it from my lifeless hands.” Alastor entered the room by Zestial’s side and hummed quite thoughtfully at your statement, “While that offer does sound tempting, I think I will keep it on the table for later,” the radio demon stated as he took his seat just like the friend he had arrived with. Adam narrowed his eyes at the sight of the redhead, they had history after all. Yet his anger was swept away by your thumb that started to gently caress the back of his hand.

Slowly the other overlords arrived, the Vee’s were on time for once and all of them had decided to give you the honor of their presence. The moth demon was quick to show interest in the man you had brought with you and he was not mannered enough to keep it to himself like Carmilla had been. “Hey there handsome~,” he purred towards Adam from across the table, blowing a cloud of smoke directly in his face - or at least that had been the plan, but you had been quick to block that tempting pink smoke of his, sparing Adam the pain of inhaling it. You had done that once and ever since then you tried your best to avoid the moth demon himself but also the scum he called friends. “Keep your shit to yourself, Valentino,” you growled at the Vee, fed up by his behavior already. Adam was yet again impressed by the switch in your language, when you spoke to the older Overlords you sounded so calm, so collected, like you chose your words wisely before you dared to open your mouth. But when speaking to the younger Overlords - such as the Vees - you talked like them. It was definitely something the first man admired, yet he craved to know what the real you was. Given that you spoke to him like you spoke to the more respected Overlords, he guessed that the calm and collected version of you was. Though he did not fully know.

“Oh,” Valentino responded, sounding a little surprised by your statement of protection, “So he’s on your leash already?” That caused Adam’s attention to shift from you to the moth demon that had tried to hit on him, “The fuck you mean I’m on his leash? I’m on no one’s fucking leash, cunt.” You nodded, confirming his words to be the truth as you added, “That does not mean you can fucking have him though, he is not an offer on the table. Not for you and not for anyone else.”

The meeting had been nerve wrecking and energy draining, especially with all of the Vees being there, Valentino had made quite a lot of comments that were meant to seduce Adam, but the brunette had always been quick to reassure the moth demon that he was not interested in anything the pimp had to offer. Rosie - while not amused about your specific choice of partner - had wished you both the best though, she was the sweetest lady in all of hell, that was for sure.

“What are you craving, my dear?” you asked as Adam and you walked through the streets of hell. Adam was visibly uncomfortable despite you having his back - quite literally, your arm was wrapped around the back of his upper body, slightly above his waist. His wings were pressed close to his sides and the usually prideful look on his face that would sometimes cause you to giggle got replaced by a look of uncertainty. You were not to blame him, he had never thought he would end up in hell after all, had always thought he was too pure to be casted down to spend eternity here. And even after you had found him he had kept telling you that Sera and Lute were to come for him. But they never had done so. And while that had been a punch in the guts for the brunette at first, he had been quick to seek comfort in you and the love you offered him. “Dunno,” he mumbled as his eyes carefully roamed over the buildings, they all looked so uninviting, this was different than your mansion and for a moment he wished to be back at your place, he wished to be back home.

“Look who we have here,” a shady looking Imp giggled as he approached the both of you. His voice sounded cracky, like he had been screaming for too long, his outfit looked run down and the horns on his head that had probably been white once were dirty and therefore appeared brown. Adam backed off immediately, he did not want to make physical contact with any of those shady people down here, no matter if they were sinners, hellborn people or overlords. They all would stain his purity and divinity. You extended your arm, pushed the dirty little Imp out of the way and continued your way to the restaurant you would always visit after Overlord meetings. “Then let me show you my favorite place,” you offered the first man a reassuring smile as you guided him through hell’s crowded streets, Adam was thankful to have you by his side. It was not that he was unable to handle himself, but the amount of eyes that looked at him murderously was surely something he had never experienced before. “It won’t reach heavenly standards of course, but I think you might like what they have to offer,” the brunette loved how cheerful and unaffected your voice was by all those sinners waiting to get their hands on Adam.

In a swift motion you turned around to shove a sinner out of the way that was about to touch Adam’s wing and probably rip out one of his glorious feathers too. In a low, angry sounding voice you growled, “I would not dare to do this if I were to be you,” as you looked down at the sinner that had flinched away from your boyfriend the moment you had turned to look at him. Without another word the little one ran away and you returned your attention to Adam, “I’m sorry hell is causing you so much trouble, love, but the people here are not exactly the positive and bright minded spirits you know from up above.” The brunette pressed his wings even closer to his body, careful for them to not touch the dirty ground that was mostly covered in sinner blood. “Not your fucking fault that freaking bitch of a demon fuck-up almost fucking ended me,” he responded as he looked at you for the first time ever since you two had left the building the Overlord meeting had been at. He was not feeling comfortable down here at all, his body language was so different from the one you knew. But you understood - or at least you thought you did.

The door was opened by one of the workers there and you and Adam were greeted by a strange look that quickly turned into a welcoming smile, it had its pros and cons to be so well known, that you definitely had to admit. Yet you were guided to a free table for two. “This shithole looks so fucking wild,” Adam commented on the restaurants decor, it surely was something special, nothing you preferred at your own house, but you were glad Adam seemed to like the atmosphere in here better than on the streets. “I’m glad this place makes you feel welcome because trust me when I tell you that it won’t get better - at least not in the Pride Ring,” that made the brunette peak up in interest. “So there’s better shit in another fucking ring?” His question was quickly answered by a nod of yours, “Yes my dear, I shall take you to Ozzie’s one day, you surely would like its vibe. The sin of Lust, Asmodeus, and his Imp boyfriend Fizzarolli run it,” you explained in delight, the theater restaurant that was located in the Lust Ring was your favorite place in hell’s seven rings. “The sin of Lust runs a fucking theater restaurant?” the first man raised an eyebrow like it was the craziest thing he had ever heard, “That’s like saying Sera runs a motherfucking candy store.” You chuckled at his comparison, though you had to admit that it wasn’t too far off, it did sound crazy for someone who did not know Ozzie. “The sin of Lust will surprise you, my dear, despite his interest in lust and desire he always preaches the importance of consent.” Adam huffed as his eyes flew over the menu, “You better introduce me to that fucker soon.” Little did Adam know that you had already booked a table at Asmodeus’ lustful lounge for the both of you.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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layersofsymbolism · 1 day

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I'm not really sure how to introduce this one. It's a continuation of the Zevlor story that's quickly becoming a novel. But I'm posting it for you guys because it's kind of a snippet. It's after we find our man in the illithid colony, and he finds out what happened while he was enthralled. A brief warning. There is some angst, emotional pain, a little self-harm, and major feelings here. No smut in this one. It's also a pretty long scene. I did cry while writing it. I'm not sorry.

Tav is based on my current, who is a noble high elf silver dragon disciple. Highfalutin, I know, but that's what was in my head.

You approach Gale with a bit of trepidation. You're not sure if he'll agree, or even if your idea will work, but you have to try. Zevlor needs his people on his side. Or, at least, for them to understand what actually happened in those dark lands, when he was taken by the Absolute. But you couldn't be the one to do it.

As you move to stand near the wizard, sitting cross-legged on a mat and reading some dusty book you'd found in the house of healing, he looks up and smiles. "Greetings, Tav." Seeing the expression on your face, he rises with a look of concern. "My, you seem agitated. How can I help?"

You bite your lip and take a breath, then speak, your voice tight and apologetic. "I need a favor. If it's not... if you can manage it."

He nods, taking your hand and pressing it. He can be so sweet sometimes. "If it is in my power, I shall do my utmost. What do you need?"

You nod and squeeze his hand, grateful for his friendly devotion. "How are you with... mental domination?"

His eyes widen a little, but he smiles. "I can cast the spell. Depending on the intended victim, I suppose I could maintain it almost indefinitely, as long as there are no other distractions. The power and duration really depend upon my concentration and the target's resistance. But so can you. Why? Who are we dominating today?"

You worry your lower lip with your teeth again and shake your head before continuing. "It cannot be me. They all know... look, Gale. We both know how powerful the elder brain is... with an unprepared mind, it would be almost impossible to resist its influence. Is that right?"

He nods slowly. "Yes, of course, but... oh, I see." He catches on quickly, you reflect, as he works out for himself what you want. "Let me see if I can guess your thought process. I assume this is in reference to your Hellrider and how his people have been treating him since... all that. You want to show them that what happened was not his fault, and you think a little demonstration of that kind of power would be a good way to do that. You can not perform this feat yourself because of your known association with him, so you want me to make a tiefling stand on one foot or something to demonstrate how easy it is to lose oneself in the face of strong magic." He ruminates for a moment, looking thoughtful, then shrugs and smiles. "I don't see that it could hurt to try. Courtesy dictates that I must warn the person I am to control, but even then, I should be able to hold them to my will for some time. May I involve another of our group?"

You nod. "If you think it will help. I can't really keep secrets from any of you anyway. Who are you planning to bring?"

He squeezes your hand and nods decisively before releasing you. "I had a thought to take Karlach with me. She's a tiefling, and she well knows how it is to be compelled to do things she doesn't want. I will go immediately. I saw a group of refugees in the inn recently. I imagine they haven't gone anywhere. I shall do my best to make them understand. Who is the intended target?"

You watch Gale as he nearly bounces on his toes, seeming eager, as always, to demonstrate his skill. "Whoever is the strongest. But... well, don't hurt anyone or humiliate them too much. Just... never mind, you know what to do. It is in your capable hands."

Gale grins and bows. "My lady, I live to serve. Rest a while. You've been burning the candle at both ends lately, and you're a bit overwrought. Stay near. I'll come find you when I'm finished."

You watch him as he heads off to find Karlach and the other tieflings. You are overwrought, nervous, your concern over Zevlor and the refugees, the remaining Chosen, and the Elder Brain mingling and draining your mental faculties. You wander back to your own tent, sitting on a cushion just outside the flap and trying to meditate for a little while to clear your head.

After what seems like ages, but is probably closer to half an hour, you sense Gale and Karlach returning, open your eyes, and struggle to your feet, trying to read their expressions. As they draw near, you can see that they are both smiling. Gale with an expression of satisfaction and Karlach a cheeky grin, bouncing a little as she approaches. She looks around when she arrives, before speaking at half her normal volume. "It worked! You're a genius, Tav. Cal volunteered. He hopped on one foot and everything! Gale was even going to make him slap Lia, but I stopped him, so he grabbed Dammon with the spell too and made them dance together! There was nothing they could do about it." She slaps Gale on the back, and the wizard wheezes, but looks pleased nonetheless.

"Yes indeed," he continues with a smug expression. "Rolan has the strongest mind, but I do not think he would have taken my meddling with it lightly. So I thought maybe, if I dominated two of them at once, when they were prepared for it... and I made it quite clear that my powers do not nearly match those of the brain. I think it's had the desired effect. I believe Tilses went to look for him. She has been on his side the whole time anyway, and the others seem prepared both to apologize and forgive."

You blow out a breath and sag with relief. It was a long shot, and could have gone quite badly, especially with Rolan being so protective of his siblings... But hearing that your plan had worked was a welcome bright spot in an otherwise trying day. You pull them both into a hug, Gale grunting with wounded dignity and with the pressure of the grinning tiefling’s muscles crushing you both, thank them profusely, and then head off to look for Zevlor. Maybe this news would help with the deep depression he'd been struggling with since you rescued him.

The soft call of the scale you'd planted on him leads you toward Rethwin Town. As you approach the mason's guild, you see that Cerys, as well as Tilses, are standing near the doors, heads together in a fervent whispered discussion. You are opening your mouth to greet them when you're startled by a crash from inside, and the crunch and rattle of splintered wood. Cerys notices you first, and waits for you to arrive with a concerned expression. They're both looking at you nervously as another burst of noise echoes from beyond the half open doors, causing them both to flinch as you hurry over.

Noting your concern, Tilses raises her hands, palms facing you. "He's not in any trouble. At least, not from fiends or undead. His only enemy is... well, himself."

Your eyes widen. "Zevlor is making those noises?"

She nods, voice low, "yeah, the Commander is in a state at the moment. We came looking for him and heard the crashes... we thought he was being attacked. But... He's alone in there. At first he was shouting about being weak and unworthy, but then... well, he just started tearing the place apart."

You turn to go into the building, but Cerys catches your arm. "You might not want to go in there, Tav. He's unhinged. I've never seen him in this mood before. He might be... dangerous."

You smile reassuringly and pat her hand. "He won't hurt me." Though, with the sounds coming from beyond the doors, you're not quite so sure as you pretend. "Go back to the inn. Please. If... if anything goes wrong... I can defend myself, but I don't want you in the crossfire. Just in case."

They exchange a long look, but then nod. "Very well," Tilses says quietly. "If anyone can help him, it's you. We know him, but he may be embarrassed... I know he thinks very highly of you." She grips your arm, a plea in her eyes, and then she and the other woman move off, looking over their shoulders once or twice. You wait until they are out of sight, and then take a deep breath and turn toward the doors.

It is dim and dusty in the building, golden motes drifting through the newly revealed sunbeams that are filtering through holes in the battered roof. There is a flurry of movement in the back room, and you pass through the second set of doors just as Zevlor seizes a thick, rotten log from a cradle by the ruined fireplace and rips it in half with his bare hands. He casts the pieces aside and paces the width of the room, his hands shoved into his hair. There is blood on his face and hands, spattered on his dully gleaming armor, and a wreck of shattered crates and tools is scattered about. Your heart aches for him, but you hold your tongue for a moment as you sidle through the door and stand next to it, leaning your back against the wall.

He doesn't notice you at first, so great is his distress, and in the relative quiet, you can hear him whimpering to himself, his voice hovering on the raw edge of sanity. "I tried. I'm so sorry. I wasn't strong enough. They're dead. They hate me. They're right to hate me. It's all my fault. If I had only been stronger..." He grabs another crate and sends it hurtling into the stone wall, where it explodes in a shower of splinters and small nails. You turn your head, but don't move, feeling a few shards pepper the side of your face. He turns back to pace in the other direction, stumbling and nearly falling over as he finally catches sight of you. He freezes and his eyes go wide, orange rings in deep black, shining in the gloom. His mouth wags for a moment, but then firms as he turns his face away.

His words are a low, pained growl when he finally speaks. "You shouldn't be here." His hands flex, and you see that some of his claws are broken, his fingertips bloody. "I couldn't bear it if I... I killed them. Leave, before I..."

You stand away from the wall, approaching him slowly, staying well out of his reach, but preparing a shield just in case. "We both know that's not true," you say quietly, your own hands wringing at your robes. "You weren't in control of..."

He cuts you off with a roar, swinging his fist until it meets a supporting beam with a loud crack of splintered wood. The edifice sways, and dust and bits of ancient birds nests filter down from above. He's not a big man, but in this extremis he's terrifyingly strong, and you hope he doesn't manage to bring the whole roof down on your heads. "But I am responsible! I led them, it was me that... I..." He winces, looking at his hand in confusion, and you see the flash of white bone peeking through his scraped, ruby skin. Dark blood drips onto the floor from his torn flesh, drops scattering among the dust and ashes. "I wasn't good enough for them. I'm not strong enough, couldn't resist her. They're dead because of me. You don't want to associate... I've failed everyone. You deserve someone who..."

He stands there trembling for a moment before looking up and quickly striding toward you, raising his wounded hand to shove you back against the wall, your head hitting the stone so hard you see brief stars drift across your vision. He's on you in an instant, mouth crushing yours, bloody fingers pulling at your clothes. You feel all of his rage and shame and desperation as he kisses you frantically, his teeth cutting into your lips. You let him tear at you, neither returning his violent kiss nor trying to push him away. You're slightly dazed when he suddenly gasps and rips himself away from you. He pants, eyes blazing... "Gods I... I'm... you see? Im no good to anyone. I could have..." He reaches out as if to touch the drop of blood oozing from your bruised lips, a horrified expression on his face, but the lowers his eyes and drops to his knees before you. He covers his face with his hands and keens. "You don't want to be near me. Nobody wants to be near me. I see their faces when... you should leave me. I could never... never be good enough for... I'm not the man you..." he stops, shaking silently in the dust, ragged breaths filtering through his hands.

You stand still for a moment, stunned, but then slowly let yourself sink to the floor, sliding your back down the wall until you’re sitting before him. You keep your tone gentle, "I am perfectly capable of judging for myself what kind of man you are. Here." You reach out and, ever so gently, ease his hands from his face, being careful not to put pressure on the broken one. He resists at first, but then relents. You inspect his bloody hand, lamenting to yourself that you cannot heal him, but you let coolness flow from your fingers, hoping to soothe him and ease the pain into numbness. "Hold still," you say as you release his fingers and reach beneath the hem of your robe to tear a strip from your linen under tunic. He flinches at the ripping sound, but keeps his hand stretched out before him, breathing harshly. You carefully wrap the linen around his hand, sinking a deeper cold into his inflamed flesh as you delicately press on the exposed little bone, easing it back into place and pinching the skin together before wrapping his palm firmly and tucking the end of the makeshift bandage under itself. You cradle the wounded appendage and reach out with your other hand, cupping his cheek lightly. His eyes are wide, sparkling with unshed tears, his mouth working in shock, lip trembling. You lean forward a little to hold his eyes, keeping your voice soft, soothing, "you do not have to carry the world on your shoulders, my love. Let me take some of the weight. Come here."

A silent tear tracks down his ravaged cheek, but he allows you to draw him toward you, laying his bandaged hand on your lap and shifting him so he's sitting before you before pressing his face into your shoulder, lifting your chin to avoid his horns. He curls his tail around himself and hesitantly wraps his good arm around your back, and you hold the armored tiefling close as his lean frame hitches and trembes with silent, heart-wrenching sobs.

The fading beams have crawled a long way up the wall before a low voice nudges you out of your doze. "My. Aren't you two a mess." Zevlor is cradled in your arms, having fallen into a deep sleep after crying himself out. Shadowheart crouches next to you, her expression unusually soft, and looks you over. You know you must look shocking, with your lips bruised and cut, and little streaks of dried blood on your face, your eyes puffy from weeping with heartache over Zevlor's pain. She reaches out and brushes a lock of hair out of your eyes, dropping her voice to a quiet whisper. "We saw the other two return, but it took a while to get it out of them. We waited as long as we dared, and then I came because, well, I'm the most subtle." She smiles. "Good thing too. You look like you both could use a little attention." You nod and shift slightly, letting her see Zevlor's hand, wrapped in the bloody bandage on your lap. He tenses a little, tightening his grip on you and murmuring into your robe, but doesn't wake, such is his exhaustion. Shadowheart reaches out, very lightly touching her fingers to his, and whispers the spell. His breath hitches and he shudders as the tingling power filters through him, but then sighs, seeming to feel the relief even in his sleep. She heals you next, the sensation making your skin prickle with gooseflesh, but you feel the small cuts close and the bruises fade.

"Thank you," you mouth silently, and she nods, leaning back on her heels.

"We will leave you alone as long as you wish. We just wanted to know you were safe." Her expression becomes thoughtful. "You love him." Her own nod follows yours, and she reaches out to brush one knuckle down your cheek before standing. "I'm happy for you. Truly. I will tell the others you are both alright. Take as long as you need. You deserve to be happy." Her smile is almost sweet as she turns away and silently exits the room.

The last light is fading when Zevlor stirs against you. Slowly he turns, easing himself around in your grasp until his eyes, just a flicker of fire in the darkness now, gaze up at you. His voice is a husky whisper, "did you mean it? What you said, before. You called me... or, maybe I was dreaming." He closes his eyes for a moment and sighs, a soft, happy sound. "If so, it was a wonderful dream."

You look down at him with a soft smile and bend your head to place a light kiss on his full lips. "I did. And you are. Ai armiel telere maenen hir, Zevlor, and I can only hope you feel the same." He sits up, keeping his arm about you and chuckling softly, looking at you with undisguised adoration.

"I don't know what that means, but I think I can guess. I can see it now, in your eyes." He cups your cheek with a gentle hand. "Are you certain this is what you want? Me? Because, I know... my heart is yours for as long as I draw breath. I love you. So very much." You nod yes, and he slowly leans toward you, taking a deep trembling breath before pressing his lips softly to yours.

Zevlor kisses you chastely for a little while, his lips and hands full of tenderness, before placing a kiss on your forehead, and then resting his own against yours. "Very well, my lady. Together, then." His words are a feather brush against your lips. "But you need me at my best if we are to prevail in this... I will seek the Oathbreaker Knight."

#zevlor #bg3 zevlor #zevlor bg3 #angst #hurt/comfort #self harm #feelings #fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #Zevlor nation

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vixen7243 · 6 hours

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Wrong Chat

Johnny x AFAB!Reader | TF141 x AFAB!Reader

Masterlist | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

MDNI!!!

After John dropped you off at home the following morning, Johnny was on you before you could even fully open the front door, giggling as he was rambling about whether or not you saw his texts. You did, John had helped you in the shower 45 minutes ago to itch the scratch you couldn't reach after reading all the guys desperate texts. "Johnny, let me at least set my bags down."

"Don't be late sergeant!" John hollered as he got back into his truck heading to base, laughing as he watch Johnny pawing and groping you into the front door. John knew very well his sergeant was going to be late and had already planed to set up arrangements to cover for him, it was the least he could do for him.

"Those pictures made last night so lonely bonnie, such a little tease." He whispered against your ear huffing, humping his hips into yours groaning when you moved you leg up and onto his waist.

"Thought you would enjoy them baby." You said between each sloppy kiss, his tongue filling your mouth, hands holding your ass and lifting you up.

"Fuck, I did, so much. Was so jealous of that first picture, John's face right between these heavenly thighs. Yer taste flooding my mind while I rutted into my hand." You moaned pushing into him, "Did ye have a good night with him? He take care of my girl?"

"Yes, god he did baby, took such good care of me." You giggled as he huffed against you, hips rutting persistently to your core, "Had me cumming so much last night."

"Fuck, good, good man he is, knew he would take care ye bonnie. Tol' ye they all would." You started pushing his sweat pants down a moan catching in your throat at the sight of his red tip, cock ready.

"Come on, just fill me up, can't have you running to late." You laughed as he bounced you up and raced his way upstairs, "Carefully Johnny!" Tugging your shirt off after he dropped you onto the bed, he pulled your leggings off, pulling your ass right to the edge of the bed he kicked off his sweats.

"So damn pretty bonnie." Rubbing the tip of his aching cock along your slit, he tapped it on your clit before sliding it down and into you moaning. "So warm. Gonna make me cum already." Ploughing his hips down into you, he swirled his thumb over your clit, using every move in his caliber he knows that will get you right at the edge with him.

"Oh shit Johnny, baby, that's it!" You moaned, moving your hips with him feeling your cunt start to tighten around him you arched up, pulling at the sheet groaning with him as you both came, still after a moment, catching your breath. "Jesus."

Chuckling, he pulled out of you and dragged your body up the bed, "Get comfy bonnie, I'm goin to take a quick shower before heading out. Ye'll be here when I get off right?"

Smiling as he brought your blanket up over you, moving some hair from your face you curled up, wiggling your hips a little as you felt a mix of John's and now Johnny's cum sliding down your thigh. "Sure baby." Closing your eyes and snuggling into the pillows while Johnny kissed your temple and went about getting ready for work.

---

Lounging in the living room flipping through channels before settling on movie you looked at your phone as it rang. Smiling you pick up, "Hey Kyle. What's goin on?"

"Hey gorgeous, what are you doin?"

"Just found a movie to watch, sitting in the living room, waiting for Johnny to get home."

"Hmm, movie night, well good thing I bought some snacks on the way here."

"Here?" You turned around moving the living room curtain slightly and sure enough, he was walking up the side walk, waving his hand up showing you the few bags he had. "Oh my god." Getting up you made your way to the front door and opened it smiling as he came up the steps.

"So you didn't see my texts that I was coming over huh?" He asked smiling leaning down and giving you a quick kiss to your cheek.

"No, but its a nice surprise, and I do love surprises." You said also kissing his cheek, "Come on." Letting him in you smiled as he kicked his shoes off and went to the living room to set the bags on the coffee table before going into the kitchen. "You bring me some good snacks then?"

"All your favorites, and some drinks." As he walked back in he sat by you setting the glasses down pouring your favorite pop/juice into them handing you a glass, pulling your feet up to his lap. Pulling the throw blanket from the back of the couch he laid it over your lap massaging your feet, ankles and shins. Half way through the movie you had slid further down and he ended up laying beside you, squeezing and rubbing your hips. Feeling so warm and relaxed against him you wound up falling asleep head resting on his extended arm, light snores also lulling him to a slumber.

Waking up a few hours later you rubbed your eyes at the shining light coming from the kitchen, you squited before humming and smiling, "Hi Johnny."

"Hi bonnnie, looked awfully comfortable, I didn't want to wake ye." He said walking into the living room and squatting in front of you, kissing your nose then lips he smiling sitting back on his hunches. "Always so pretty." Smiling back at him you nuzzled his hand that was stroking your cheek. Kissing his fingers you hummed has you looked into his eyes, he had a certain gleam in his eyes as he grinned at you, his other hand drifting under the blanket to your thigh, smirking at the exposed skin. Having worn shorts you looked down, watching the shift of the blanket, his fingers sliding up the apex of your thigh, under your shorts and teased the lips of your cunt. Gasping as he caught your clit between his fingers and slightly twisted, slipping the tip of his fingers into you, your arousal quickly coating them. Moving your leg, knee peeking out from under the blanket, you held his hand to your cheek biting your lip trying to hold back from grinding your hips into not only his fingers but Kyle's hips, who was still sleeping peacefully beside you...to your knowledge.

Feeling dizzy with excitement you let your leg drop the side of the couch, the wet squelching of your cunt around his fingers now filling the living room. Johnny moved himself down to between your legs, laying his upper half down and pulled your shorts to the side, stretching them, moving your leg even more groaning into your folds before practically making out with your hole.

"Quite the sight to wake up to." Clenching around Johnny's tongue you turned your head and looked at Kyle, blushing.

"S-sorry." You moaned, wiggling your hips against Johnny's mouth, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize gorgeous, I'm enjoying the show." He said smirking, stretching a bit beside you. "I would never mind waking up to the sound of your sweet moans." Arching up you keened, Johnny's tongue driving you over the edge, twisting your fingers into his mohawk while gripping Kyle's collar and bringing him to you to kiss, tongues intertwining, your moans and whimpers muffled against his lips, blissful with the feel of his hands inching up Johnny's sweater you had on, before cupping your breast and rolling your nipple. The ripple in your core intensifying the longer they stimulated your body.

Gasping as you pulled back from Kyle, you glanced down as Johnny pulled back, "Fucking delicious bonnie." He kissed your thighs and hips before standing up and adjusting himself, "I'm going to go pick up dinner, Gaz, I'm right to guess ye'll be staying?" He said smirking making his way to the front door.

"If I'm welcome to."

"Of course you are." You said tracing his jaw and lips, "Don't be gone long Johnny."

"I'll be back shortly." He said leaving, closing the door behind him.

You turned fully to Kyle, "Sorry for the way we woke you."

"I really don't mind gorgeous." As he kissed your temples you melted into him, Kyle is so sweet with you, although he never pushes affection with you, he does make the first move, always kissing you, holding you, but he knows and has learned your ques of how much you can take before needing to stop. His sweet words always wrapping around your mind, coaxing you to melt into him, feel him, see him.

"You're so sweet, sometimes feels too sweet to be real." You said smiling at him, kissing him again, the kiss was slow and passionate, your hands now roaming him, feeling warm. "No sex, but I do want to feel you." You whispered against his lips looking into his warm eyes waiting.

"Feel me then." He said guiding your hand under his shirt, reconnecting his lips with yours. Your fingers traced his abs, tracing a circle around his nipple before trailing down and undoing his belt and pants sliding your hand in. "Seems unfair." He groaned feeling your fingers wrap around his shaft, also sliding his hand into your shorts to he worked his fingers into you, following your pace, both your moans and panting mixing between your bodies. Lifting your leg over his thigh you gasped with him looking into his eyes, mouth agape as you ground your core into his fingers, mind blanking as you came, hand stuttering on his length simultaneously feeling his cock twitch in your hand, his spend spurting onto your wrist and his boxers.

Cuddling again with him, mind wander through your relations with everyone, you're quickly finding that you are blindly falling for these men, Johnny beside you ever step of the way, very encouraging and enthusiastic. Supportive even, which makes you comfortable to embrace the others advances and promises. Making small patterns on his hand you smiled up at Johnny as he walked through the door, bags of Chinese take out in his hands.

"Dinner time lovers, up and at 'em."

#call of duty #task force 141 #x reader #john price #simon ghost riley #smut #18+ mdni #john price smut #johnny soap mactavish #john price x reader #kyle garrick smut #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz smut #couch cuddling #lovers #pretty boy

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scificrows · 8 months

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i like to make fun of murderbot for being all "i hate everyone, i don't care about anything or anyone, fuck off" while simultaneously caring very much about the people around it and the situations it finds itself in. i love how it "accidentally" ends up caring quite a lot about the friends it makes along the way. but i think something that i tend to forget is that murderbot actively decides to care - at least at some point in its story.

idk, as a person that struggles with depression, this paragraph from artificial condition really resonates with me. prior to all systems red, murderbot had contracts. it had routine and it had protocols. it knew what it had to do to just get by, how to perform so no one would notice it had disabled its governor module. it was deeply depressed, yes, but it was functioning (for lack of a better word). in artificial condition, murderbot's routine is gone. it cannot go on in that state of numbly going-from-contract-to-contract, putting in as little effort as possible, consuming media to cope. that option is gone because it escaped (and note that escaping the company was not an active choice, it kinda happened to it). murderbot has two options now: it can either gather all its energy; actively do something new and difficult and distressing; change something in its life and try. or it can let the numbness and the emptiness take over and stop trying. if murderbot wants to survive as a rogue secunit, it has to try. no matter how difficult that is. the wording in that paragraph really hits home for me. the way the non-caring sees an opportunity to slip in and to take over. does murderbot even care? does anything really matter? is anything really worth the hassle? wouldn't it be so much easier to just let your mind slip away a little, to go numb, to be passive, to watch media and wait for things to happen to you? wouldn't it be nice to stop thinking and struggling and feeling complicated things? to stop making an effort? you've been dealing with a lot lately and maybe it's time to just shut down. maybe you'll just take a little break. just slip deeper into this chair and start the show. time flies when you're not paying attention. trying is exhausting. who cares if you don't do the things you wanted to do, you were supposed to do. it'll be fine. let's just ignore those things for now. just let the non-caring take over. just stop thinking. you can deal with the aftermath later. just watch your shows. who cares. but murderbot cares. it decides to care. it decides to fight with all it has and i think that is so brave. and i think in the later books caring is less of an active decision for murderbot. once you start caring, it's easier to keep going than to stop; and murderbot, for all its "i'm a grumpy rogue secunit, leave me alone" behavior, knows just how important caring is. so it's not that it doesn't know what's happening; rather, it lets itself care. tl;dr: caring is not the default for murderbot, it's just the more difficult of two options. and it decides not to take the soft option. it decides to struggle. it decides to care. and so it does.

#sorry i'm rambling i'm a little depressed rn (hah) and i've been thinking about murderbot again #at least writing this got me out of the adhd/depression paralysis :) yeah this might be self-indulgent so what #the murderbot diaries #murderbot #𓄿 #i just love martha wells' writing for things like that #and i love murderbot as a character so very much #also i'm pretty sure some of this could be read in a way i did not intend #i'm not trying to say that depressed people have the option to just not be depressed #or that it's as easy as going “okay well i can either care or not care... i guess i should care! done!”#listen i know it's not like that; i know that first hand #but murderbot had just enough energy and fight in it to try and it had people in its life that cared about it and helped it #and it managed to get out of that deep dark hole #and we see it struggling with trauma etc in the later books #things are not magically better #just yeah #okay imma add #tw depression #tw suicide #(this is not about suicide though; this is about sitting on the couch while the dishes and the laundry pile up #and watching netflix because getting up and taking care of yourself and calling a friend or going outside are too difficult)#(but i can see how this might hit a little close to home if that is something someone's struggling with&better safe than sorry)#also sending lots of love to everyone who this resonates with

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aroaessidhe · 5 months

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2023 reads / storygraph

The Poisons We Drink

YA urban fantasy

a girl who brews powerful potions is coerced into making potions to interfere with D.C.’s most influential politicians in an attempt to stop a dangerous Witcher Registration Act from passing, and will do anything to protect her sister after their mother is killed

bi MC, nonbinary love interest

arc from netgalley

#The Poisons We Drink #aroaessidhe 2023 reads #this is…….a lot of cool ideas but also so many elements and high stakes that i kinda lost track of them #the pacing is weird. the worldbuilding is random?#why is brewing SO overpowered & risky for her but the other powers seem to have pretty normal low-scale risks?#it’s definitely ambitious and has some cool ideas and also some great characters just. didn’t execute as well as I’d like #as much as we’re told the main threat is the government trying to put through a Registration Act #most of the actual antagonism we see is from other Witchers?#like the systemic discrimination got a bit lost in the witcher family drama and murder politics #important things to say about oppression and police violence but like....idk #she has this ‘deviation’- essentially evil sentient magic inside her head (and you KNOW I love that trope)#but it’s barely explained and very underutilised? other than helping her get out of bad situations you could take it out & would barely #change anything #also it’s explained at the start that she’s an empath but other than the very occasional mention I kept forgetting #will also note that I bumped this up my tbr because I saw the author talking/promoting it as the MCs sister being aroace but no mention #maybe it’ll come up in a sequel (there weren’t really any places where it would have made sense to bring it up here) but idk #(just the way the author was asking for advice on how to write an ace character and stuff you’d assume that they’d….put that in the book?)#not really a critique of the book itself but anyway. I really wanted to like this but the way it was put together just did not vibe with me #edit: I saw the author say on twitter that the version used for ARCs was before ace stuff was added and that there's other signif changes?#so perhaps that will be there! i'm not sure if I want to read it again but might skim just to see what that's about

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rotisseries · 1 year

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anybody else remember how, way back when, there used to be a lot of byler aus with that trope where one is alt and popular and the other one is shy and nerdy? yeah we should bring that back but will is alt and popular this time and mike is the shy nerd methinks

#strangers things #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #“way back when” I am referring to post s3 maybe s2 I can't remember the first time I read st fanfic #my oldest bookmarks were only read post s3 and that's only when I can for sure remember reading things and also #that's when I first actually made an ao3 account #I do KNOW that there is an elmax fanfiction that PREDATES s2 that I DID read BEFORE I made an account on ao3 #but I made my account in like october of 2019 so that's still a pretty wide margin of time that I could've read it post s3 #I DO know that I've read at least some byler fanfic for as long as I've hyperfixated on st while also knowing that fanfic is a thing #I just can't remember if that started post s2 or post s3 #all this to say lmao that when I say way back when I really do mean way back when but also not as old as it could be ig #and I'm saying way back when bc I'm definitely not seeing this trope in newer byler fanfics #except maybe fog lmao but also not really

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01tsubomi · 2 years

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i. guess the reason i watched so much trashy anime in high school was bc i watched so much anime in the first place. and if you wanna watch shows about high schoolers then eventually you’re gonna have to watch the trashy stuff (not to mention i like girls sooooo so so much). but i wanted to watch something romance-y and rompy so i’m watching rent-a-girlfriend bc i’ve heard good things abt it being fun and an interesting look at relationships and pretending and satisfaction etc and i’ll give it and my high school self credit in that this is super fun. unfortunately though so far any interesting commentary it could be giving through all the different times of girls in its cast is super overshadowed by how badly it wants you to hate every single girl except the main one

#i also just read jessica jung's second book the other day and the first one was questionable but this one was literally just the story #of how she got booted out of girls generation with like changed names #literally 10000% undeniably just her telling her story in a really one-sided way where you're supposed to hate everyone but her #and i hate to brush it off like that bc i'm sure some of the stuff she puts her self insert through happened and that does suck #management turning their back on her and everything #but the girls who are so obviously supposed to be the rest of snsd in the book are not given any forgiveness or any grace or agency #literally they're just flat and mean and jealous of how the protag can't do anything but win #so you come out of it feeling like you know what jessica the only person you're making me resent here is you #bc there's no way a situation could be that black and white and there's no way that 8 real people could be that flat and cruel with no #motivation at all #anyway i'm thinking abt that bc this show is also like really dead-set on making every other girl horrible so you'll like the main one #and the worst part is i love the main one! she's so male gaze-y but she's so likable and nice and she like has feelings and boundaries #only so much agency in a story like this but she does get at least some #the rest of the girls have to be like totally fake and cruel-hearted or obnoxiously unable to take a hint #and it's like dude we get it you don't actually like women. you could show it a little less #and then the story would be so much more interesting because you'd actually be talking about like people and emotions #instead of weird cardboard cutouts that are getting in the way of our main couple #i'm exaggerating a little bc i did watch bunny girl senpai as it aired and then rewatched it last year #and that's also pretty trashy but it definitely cares about its girls more #so a step up from this. this one is fun though #personal

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ochibrochi · 2 months

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spontaneous magic manifestation was NOT mentioned in the parenting handbook 😬

I know this isn’t how magic in dc works, but the fact that Damian’s ancestry includes some pretty powerful magic users is… INTERESTING 🤔? Drabble under the cut!

I wanna preface that I'M NOT SAYIN' that Damian should/does have magic powers, but there’s still so much unexplored potential with Damian's character, and the thought that he has a dormant adeptness in magic is somewhat compelling to me. Most importantly it would FREAK! BRUCE! OUT!!!!! What is this, magic puberty 😭??

By DC laws, anyone has the ability to learn magic, but it is also possible to be an innate ability. The Al Ghuls are no strangers to the occult-- Ra's has had increasingly been portrayed as a magic user, and the recent establishment of his mother being a sorceress/witch?? Even Talia dabbled in a bit of magic, I think. There is a catch that their power is suggested to be due to Lazarus exposure, but for arguments sake let's say the Al Ghul lineage is inherently proficient in magic (and Lazarus exposure simply enhances it).

I can't recall "magic" being a part of Damian's training/upbringing (I'm still slowly catching-up on Damian comics so apologies if I miss any canon examples of magic use). Not sure why Talia wouldn't want her little "heir to an ancient assassin empire baby" to learn magic, but it would at least give reason to Damian not knowing about his magic potential, or lack of interest in it.

Through the power of pseudo storytelling, what if Damian's encounter with Mother Soul could have triggered a manifestation of magic that was once dormant; like a pressure cooker waiting to explode with energy when it hasn't been given a safe outlet.

I've yet to read a satisfying arc where Damian truly gets to contemplate his Al Ghul roots outside of "dad is good guy, mum is bad guy". Damian's initial character growth stems from him running away from, and renouncing his association with the League (i.e. "I'm nothing like you, mother and grandfather!").

The most recent thing I've read was Robin (2021), and whilst Damian is much more cordial with his mother, there's still an emotional distance and sense of distrust/resentment (for good reason, even if the context was some cartoonishly evil writing). But there is a silver-lining that they still appear to be fond of each other, in a melancholy kind of way.

Realizing he's "genetically" primed for magic would be especially confronting to Damian. There's no denying his Al Ghul blood, forcing him to confront a facet of himself he can no longer ignore or reject. A family that he likely has to approach for help/guidance.

Damian is put in a position of acknowledging this power could be used for good, to be stronger, to fight crime, balancing it with the implication that what he possesses could be rooted in dark magic (Lazarus enchantment).

If he decides to embrace it, would that be too much of an endorsement of the Al Ghul's dark occultism? Can he separate the two ideas? What if he can't control it? What if he accidentally hurts someone? What if has the ability to save someone where his other skills fall short?

Ideally, I'd love for this hypothetical story to lead into Damian exploring his Al Ghul heritage more intimately, historically, and spiritually (à la RSoB: Year of Redemption adventures). Another little coming-of-age self discovery journey.

I have my own little personal thoughts on what Damian decides to do with his magic powers, but I'd like to leave that open to interpretation... By the end of it I hope that he will at least find some forgiveness over resentment, and a balance between accepting that side of his family a little easier. It is finally a sense of inner peace :)

Any thoughts? Did I get any characterisation wrong? Let's talk over on my DC blog @arkhamochi! I'm currently trying to read all Damian-centric comics until I catch up with the current run. I'm hungry for discussion and analysis!!!!!!

#batman #batman and robin #damian wayne #bruce wayne #dc comics #P.S. drabble is kinda LONG so DO NOT read more unless you want the inconvenience of scrolling

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doctor-bus · 11 months

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just outlined a whole ass fic (we'll see if I can actually polish it, but imo it's pretty good so I hope so) and I'm just sitting here going. when I post this. do I tag it as the platonic or romantic ship.

#levi.txt #I did my best to write it as ambiguous/platonic but #I can't lie I really do ship them #so the dynamic may have a slightly more romantic tint to it than canon #but also it's already Pretty Borderline Romantic in canon likeee one of them is constantly waxing poetic about the other #but also me and my best friend are like the quintessential borderline-romantic platonic friendship dynamic so #it feels weird to insist they are Definitely For Sure Romantic for shit me and my best friend also do #but also on the other hand I don't want someone to come in going 'I want PLATONIC vil and rook' and getting too many romo vibes from my fic #I know I hate when I'm reading a fic and like you can tell the author tried to make it neutral in some way but didn't #i.e. all my frustration at those 'gn reader' fics that are clearly describing a femc #hmmmm in this case tho it could honestly be either #WELL we'll see if it gets any gayer between outlining and polishing

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actual-changeling · 8 months

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welcome back to alex's unhinged meta corner, today's topic: the chest touch at the pub. that scene has me in a chokehold for some reason and i still cannot stop thinking about it.

the first thing i wanna talk about is crowley's reaction, since this is the shorter part. he did not expect aziraphale to reach out to him like this and freezes for a second while aziraphale happily chatters away.

they were both walking and the hand on his chest stops him, so he comes to a stop right next to him while he was slightly behind him before that. his gaze also snaps to aziraphale's face, who is very much not looking at him.

they were having a conversation, but the touch essentially shuts crowley up and zira leaves him to get their drinks.

now, my question is why aziraphale does it. sure, it could just be an absent gesture since they're in a crowded place, just that he has never really done so before. i think it was very much planned, like asking crowley to dance and grabbing his hand later on.

a second before he actually reaches out, he also looks back to check whether crowley is where he thinks he is. that is the only time he does that, he was busy looking for a free table and miracles them one when he cannot find one - the look back is deliberate. especially since crowley is practically glued to his side, he has no need for confirmation, he can feel him brushing against him while walking.

the hand motion he does gets me, too. he is busy fidgeting with his hands like normal and has them clasped in front of him. aziraphale lifts them once he gets to "that is precisely the point", yet also already moves it slightly towards crowley, realizes he miscalculated where exactly he/his chest is, looks to check, then looks away again before actually touching him. am i reading too much into it? maybe.

i think it is his version of a little temptation. not only does it make crowley's brain short-circuit for a second, he also gets them their drinks and is now (or so aziraphale hopes) a bit calmer and will take the news aziraphale is about to give him better. the conversation at the cafe did not go entirely as planned, after all.

additionally, something i am not sure if other people have noticed or not is that aziraphale does not just touch crowley, it is a caress. he moves his hand down his chest.

the movement in order:

bar girl unfortunately moves in front of them, but you can clearly see the way his hand takes. to give you a direct comparison of the starting and end point:

a good point of reference is crowley's bolo tie but also the angle of aziraphale's arm while it is still visible.

the best part, in my opinion, is that aziraphale puts his hand right on top of crowley's heart. i think the symbolic importance of that is pretty clear and does not require any more explanation, although it makes me want to throw myself into a river. but that's by the by.

to summarize, aziraphale caresses crowley's heart chest to get him to calm down and not go insane over the news he is about to give him. he is also simply a bastard and knows exactly what he is doing to crowley.

as always, this is me going nuts with analysis, but i'm also curious to hear other people's thoughts on this.

don't tell my therapist about my unhinged meta posts or she will probably be very concerned for my mental wellbeing

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #good omens meta #any grammar or spelling errors are my own #my brain is not being coherent lately

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sistertotheknowitall · 2 months

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Don't Take Snacks From Some Guy

Masterpost

Duke knew better than to take food from strangers. Still it was nice of the other man to offer so he kept taking them.

----

Duke watched the kid type away at his laptop. He said kid but the guy was probably a few years older the him. Still, he wasn't supposed to be on the roof of a bank, Gotham National Bank to be specific. He didn't seem to be up to anything nefarious (Duke didn't think you needed to be on the bank to hack it) but he was still on the roof a bank. A closed bank at sunrise on a Sunday.

How did he even get up there? Duke doubted that he took the stairs. Unless he worked for the bank but that didn't answer why he was on the roof.

Making a decision, Duke disappeared and made his way over. He was quiet and cautious as he went to look over the other teens shoulder. He was writing …a paper? From what Duke could read it was a research paper (‘in accordance to what the Daily Planet has stated about the city’s hero’ -).

“Could you not breathe in my ear?”

Duke flinched back and thankfully didn't make a sound. He was pretty sure he still invisible but tired eyes were staring at him - well, in his general direction. (Just to be sure Duke checked, and, yeah, still not visible.) For a moment they just sat still as Duke contemplated revealing himself. (The other could be bluffing but was it really bluffing if he was right?) The guy had known Duke was there and seemed able to at least sense his general position. He seemed annoyed but not violent. It was also clear that he definitely was not committing cyber crime unless the paper was code. (Could it be code?)

Continuing with caution Duke made himself visible and shifted awkwardly, “um, hi, I’m Signal -”

The other boy had turned back to his computer, appearing to read over what he had written. “You were almost pressed against me, dude.”

Duke blushed, a little embarrassed, “right, sorry, I was just trying to see what you were doing.”

“I'm Danny and I was not hacking the bank, I promise.”

“Okay?”

Duke continued to watch Danny as he finished reading and closed the laptop. Standing Danny stretched and started putting the computer away. Duke had winced at the popping of his spine. “So what are you doing up here?”

Shouldering his bag Danny told him, “writing about the sociological impact of superheroes vs vigilantes, or do you not know how to read?”

Duke contemplated still arresting the man. He could still get him for loitering or trespassing or something. “No, I got that - “

“Did you?”

Ignoring the snippy remark Duke continued and asked “why are you writing on top of the bank? How did you even get up here?”

“The public library’s wifi is awful and this bank has a public password.”

Duke blinked, “you're up here at sunrise for the wifi?”

“Yeah.”

"…….."

“So… think you could help me get down?”

----

Once back on solid ground Danny had held out a chocolate bar. Duke stared in confusion before realizing it was an offering, “oh thanks, but -” Danny sighed, grabbed Duke's wrist and forced the candy into his hand. Letting go, Danny had patted the vigilante on the shoulder, muttered his thanks and walked off.

Duke watched him go around the corner before considering the chocolate. While the guy hadn't been anything other than a little snarky and rude, Duke wasn't going to eat something a stranger gave him. Even if you didn't grow up in Gotham, accepting food from strangers was not wise. Duke knew this.

So he had taken the candy bar back to the cave for analysis.

Upon their seconf meeting nearly a week later Danny had been a lot more cheerful and had apologized to Duke for being grumpy. He then handed him a banana and left. Duke continued to run into Danny on roof tops, fire escapes, and once outside the entrance to a cemetery and while he wasn’t always in a talkative mood when they met (sometimes he would just walk by Duke, shoving food into his hands as he passed) he was always sure to give him something. Duke didn't know what to make of this but he was understandably careful. The banana had been tested like the chocolate, so had the fruit snacks, the granola bar, and the apple. All came back clean.

It was a few days after the apple was cleared that the bats had come to the conclusion that Danny was not a threat. So when Duke was handed a donut on a stressful Tuesday, he ate it gratefully. Danny had seemed pleased that Duke continued to take the treats and Steph was always happy to eat what Duke didn’t.

Post 5

#I dont think I write dialogue well #anyway #here's this #batman #batfamily #danny phantom #dcxdp #dc x dp #danny is just some guy #dp x dc #dp crossover #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc

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bluetimeombre · 2 months

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✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ And I wouldn't marry me, either.

You were Azriel's mate, but it took losing you three times for him to realise.

[this is long. i'm talking 5k words long so i've split it into two parts. anyway, azriel is the best bat boy and no i won't hear anyone out. i'm so excited to write for him and hope you enjoy. it's very angsty but that's what i love. i hope i can write more for him and maybe other characters if you like. it's been a while since i've actually read the series so if any information is wrong, do let me know. also it was my first time using the term y/n and yes, i cringed NOT PROOF READ... enjoy]

warnings: references to sexual assault and references to suicide. nothing explicit but please don't read if this is sensitive to you.

Part 2 soon…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first, was the worst...

You were Rhys's half sister, the bastard daughter of his father. But when your mother had died giving birth to you, Rhysand's mother took you in and raised you with your brother and sister. You were so little and adorable that your sister loved you at once. Rhys did to, at some point of your life, you were sure he actually cared about you.

But when his mother and sister had died, his eyes shifted, he started to look at you with contempt. After all, you were only his half-sister. The worst half. He only kept you around because it's what his mother would have wanted.

And because there was no way Cassian and Azriel would ever let anything happen to you.

Besides, Rhysand knew when to use you.

Although Azriel was his spymaster, you were pretty good at staying swift-footed too. And you were frankly, very terrifying when you wanted to be.

You tread with power through the war camps, all of them looking at you as you went. All of their gazes wrecked with a predatory gaze. They either wanted to have their way with you, or kill you. Or both.

Rhys had said you could handle it, it was only supposed to be a check in. Cassian hadn't liked it, neither had Mor but it was Azriel who had almost- and for the first time- disobeyed his high lord to accompany you. But no, your brother wanted you to do this alone, so alone you would.

Just to show him you could.

'I can come with you,' Azriel had said, standing in your room as you tied your boots up. 'I won't even have to be seen.' At that, his shadows wrapped up your calf.

You smiled at them, as if they were his own pet. 'I'll manage just fine. Besides, i'm sure that's what Rhys wants, me needing a man.'

It had done nothing to calm your friend. The worry was still stuck between his brows, marring his handsome features. You'd held his cheeks, your wings hiding the two of you. His large ones (enough to swallow the both of you) over-lapped yours.

It was the last time you'd feel your wings.

The war camp wasn't as easy as you'd hoped. It was terror and horror in a place. You'd been to the court of nightmares, you'd gone to the slaughter of the spring court after they killed your family. But this, this was hell of another kind.

You had no idea how many days you'd been locked up, wrists bound in chains and hanging from the cell roof above you. Blood rolled down your arms from the force you'd tried to use to get them out. Your eye was swollen shut and your body trembled in pain.

All because they wanted to know your brothers secrets, and you wouldn't budge.

Your check was only supposed to be a day, but you were sure it had been longer. Days of endless pain and torture. Your uniform hung in rags of stripped material, your hair matted with blood and hiding your face.

You'd used the last of your energy to keep your walls up. You weren't anyone's mate, you didn't have anyone on the other end trying to feel what you felt. But should Rhys come looking (though you doubted it) you didn't want him to feel it. You didn't want anyone in your mind.

The gates opened with a sickening clash.

One of the Illyrian's knelt in front of you, his wings hiding those coming in behind you. 'Listen sweetheart. I don't want to make this any harder than it's about to get. All you have to do is tell us your brother's hide outs.'

You grit your teeth, staring down at the ground.

'So loyal, to a man who doesn't care if you live or die.'

Suddenly, your wings twitched as hands grasped them. Brute hands, the sort you wouldn't want touching any part of you.

Fear spiked in you, horror twisting your gut. 'What are you doing?'

'I told you I didn't want to get things messier, darling.'

You whipped your head from side to side, trying and failing to get a look at the assailants behind you. Your wings were being held apart, no matter how hard you tried to bat them away. You knew the sort of people they were, and what they did to girls like you.

That's when the begging started. 'No, no please. Anything. I'll do anything! Beat me, kill me, rape me, not my wings, please!'

'Anything?' the bastard asked, tongue poking out from his lips. 'Then tell me where your lord's hideouts are?'

You should betray him, you thought. He would never lose his wings for you. Perhaps it was stubbornness that kept you from, or maybe you were clinging to the last bit of love you want from him.

The bastard scoffed, 'anything, she says. Your brother has his own bitch wrapped around his finger.'

That's when they started hacking at your wings.

Your screams tore through your throat, blood spitting and dripping down your chin. Tears soon joined when they hacked away at the bone, the membrane, the flesh of it all. The three of them worked through your screams and your tears and your pain, tearing and cutting at it like it was nothing more than paper.

Not your whole life.

Let them hear you. You hoped your brother heard you, you hoped all and every court heard the pain.

Eventually, even you couldn't keep screaming. The only sound was the hacking away at your wings and the drops of blood.

'Now look at these beauties. I've got a perfect spot on my wall for these.'

They left you after that. There wasn't much more damage they could do. It already felt like they'd destroyed your life. You had never really thought about your wings, they were just part of you, as much as your wit or hair was. But they'd took it and now, you felt empty. Never would you fly with Azriel again, or use your wings to smack Cassian over the head.

Rhys, your dear brother, had took that from you.

The days blended in together after that. You were pooled in your own tears and blood, vomiting up anything they forced down your throat. No, they'd made it very clear they didn't want you dead. They just took pride in making it feel like you were.

At some point, you'd stopped reacting to the gate opening. You let them do whatever they wanted with you. Your wrists were still chained, arms still hanging up, your clothes hanging on your thin body in strips of dirt.

'No...' you heard a mumble. 'What have they done to you?'

Suddenly, the chains gave way and you lurched forward, with no strength to catch you. Luckily, you didn't have to, as strong and warm arms pulled you into his chest.

'Hey, wake up, look at me, dammit.'

Azriel.

You'd know the voice in the darkest days, in the pit of your worst nightmare you'd know.

You try to speak but your head's heavy, your lips are stone and your arms can't lift to hold onto him. You're exhausted, you're dying. The only thing you could do use all your strength to try to open your eyes.

'Please, please, look at me. You have to look at me,'

You were trying, you wanted to tell hm, snap at him, but you couldn't.

You felt Azriel shake, or maybe you were. Then, there was wet drops landing on your cheeks- you flinched.

'I'm sorry, i'm sorry. Rhys! Rhys! hurry up, please!' he was screaming. You'd never heard him scream before.

You heard the rush of feet at the cell doors, you knew it was your brother. You knew it from the presence of him, from the shuffling of feet and chocked sob. Your brother didn't cry, least of all for you.

'Her wings, oh mother, her wings,' said Azriel, his voice barley above that of a whisper.

Your wings. You didn't need reminding. They were gone, long and far gone. You were without a part of you, the very part of your soul that loved to be free. Never would you watch the stars up close or fly over everyone. Never race Cassian or make jokes with Az.

No, this would destroy you.

'y/n,' your half-brother called. 'No, y/n. Can you hear me?'

Your lips parted, mumbling. 'Hurts.'

Azriel's grip on you tightened. 'I know, we're gonna get you out of here, just hold on for me.'

You wanted to tell him you would hold on, you'd always need to hold on to him. That, no matter what he asks, you'd do it. To kill, to live, to breathe, to die.

And that's when it clicked. Amongst all the pain and the doubt. In your blood soaked clothes. In the fear you wouldn't make it, there was a tug. Weak and one-sided, but there. You knew you'd be safe with Azriel, knew you would always be with him.

Mate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The pain subsided to a dull ache, there and beating but not excruciating. You were warm and covered in a soft material. Nothing like the cell you'd been kept in. Your fingertips sunk into something soft- a bed. Your bed. It was familiar in its lavender scent to you and the silk wrapped around you gave you some semblance of warmth.

Your wings.

Even coming to consciousness was difficult. You were exhausted but light, without the weight of wings holding you down. You'd never realised how much you needed to feel that weight, to feel pulled down in order to be free.

Gone, all gone.

Your hand twitches around something cold, a shadow holding your hand, creeping up your side.

'You're awake, thank the couldron.'

It wasn't Azriel, master of the shadows. It wasn't your mate. Mate. The word replayed like a terrible song in your mind.

How dare the mother do this to Az. How dare he- nothing but loyal and kind- get stuck with a person made in darkness, who bled shadows, who's heart was so full of hate there wasn't room for love. They'd cursed Az, with you.

But luckily it wasn't him, it was Rhysand.

'It really happened,' you whispered, voice hurting from the screams.

He sighed. 'I'm sorry, i'm so sorry. We-we thought you weren't going to make it, you'd lost so much blood.'

In spite of the pain in your shoulders, you made a shift, turning from him as he ranted on about your condition.

'y/n... sister, please,' he said. He'd never called you sister before. He'd always been content to treat you just like you worked for him.

'Leave me alone.' you couldn't bare to look at him, couldn't bare to face him. The shadows at your hand grew heavier, as if more were piling on. You stretched your fingers away from them, trying to get them off you.

'Are you in any pain?' asked Rhys.

'Get out,' you mumbled.

The end of your bed dipped where Rhys settled, hand splayed on the covers, begging for your hand. 'y/n.'

'Get out!' you snapped, body tense and straining. You felt your wounds open up, blood wetting the bandage around you. But you didn't care. You'd happily bleed if you couldn't fly. A part of you, sick part of you wanted to be left there. It would be better than false sympathy.

Be better than your mate being disgusted.

'Get out!' you yelled again, voice tearing through an aching throat.

'I just want to help you! please, let me help you!' said Rhys, standing from your bed and walking around, trying to face you.

'I don't want your help!' you screamed. You reached for the closest thing you could, a jug of water and chucked it toward him. You aim was terrible, marred with pain and exhaustion. 'Get out!'

Though hesitant, Rhysand slowly started walking back to your door. He did it all looking at you, his hands out to show he wasn't gonna hurt you, but you didn't care. You went for the glasses next and chucked them but they landed against the door which he disappeared through.

Before it slid close you caught sight of Cassian , Mor and Azriel. All crowded, all waiting to see you.

You'd be happy if you never let them see you again.

'Can we see her?' you hear Mor ask.

'Give her time,' said Rhys.

The shadows at your hand grew heavier, darker, tighter.

'Go away!' you yelled at them. To anyone else, you probably looked crazy, screaming to darkness. But the shadows understood. They departed, slithering away and under the crack of your door where you could see the shadows of feet.

Tumbling from bed, you stumbled over and locked the door, leaning on it to and catching your breath. Your nightgown was starting to get sticky with blood all over again. When you closed your eyes, you pictured the cell, the rough hands holding you down, the chain keeping you up.

And the pain, it all washed over you. The hacking at your back, the sting of a slap. It hit you like a tone of bricks as you slid to the floor.

There was a knock, rattling the door.

'y/n,' Cassian. 'Please let us in.'

Us. You felt him on the other side. Your mate, his presence lingering. His shadows under the door, wanting to come in but keeping their distance.

He didn't know. It hadn't snapped for him, you could tell. It was one tug on your end, a chord in your heart. At least he couldn't feel what you did. At least you could shoulder it alone.

'Please.' his voice was almost your un-doing. He sounded so sad, so desperate. It hurt you just to think you were hurting him.

Tears streamed down your face as your curled your fingers into a tight fist. You assumed Mor had left with Rhys, leaving you there with the males.

Cass was always like a brother to you. Granted- a brother you had slept with once or twice- but he was your best friend. You'd always been close to him. But you'd always been good, a happy person.

You couldn't be that for them now, perhaps ever again.

It lasted like that for hours. Cassian and Az begging to come in, you curling into a ball with tears down your cheeks and blood down your back.

Eventually, they gave up. You couldn't hear them anymore and the shadows of their boots had disappeared.

Except Azriel's shadows that still lingered under your door. Maybe he'd ordered them to be there while they left you.

Eventually, you managed to find your footing on shaking legs. Your room was large, one of the largest. It was just as much a mess as it was when you'd left for you mission, clothes thrown over the place, books propped open on the pages you'd left them on. Everything was the same but could never be again.

It took you longer than you'd care to admit to get to your windows and throw the curtains close. Candles light at your request, the house looking after you as it had since you were a child.

You caught sight of yourself in the full length mirror. It seemed smaller, everything in the room felt too large and you too small, as if you were being swallowed by the expanse of it.

Your frame was small in the mirror, your hair disarrayed. Your eyes were red and shutting of their own accord from the tears that had drained you. The starving in the cells had made you look weak, made you feel weak.

And your back. There was no more looming black figures there, no more fluttering. There was just nothing. In spite of the ache as you lifted your arm, you felt around your back, feeling the hitch there, the lump from where they'd been torn from you.

You cry. You sob. You scream.

The scars were long and the nightdress was sticking to you by the blood you'd shed. All you could do, was hold yourself up as your body wracked with tears.

A breeze came from your windows, shadows tugging at the curtains.

You felt him before you saw him. You wanted to tell him to leave you but you couldn't talk without chocking. Without feeling like you couldn't breath.

Azriel had you in your arms before your knees could hit the ground. He fell with you, softening your body on the floor. His arms held you into his chest, his legs caging you into his body. His head rested on yours as he held you. He didn't try to talk, he didn't try to help. It was just him, you and his shadows.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel remembered dozing off with you, his head on yours. His arms holding you into him, as if it was up to him to keep the sadness away and take it for you.

Afterall, you were his best friend. He should have been there for you, and he'd failed terribly by letting you get hurt and your wings stolen from you. He could hate himself every day for it, for letting you down. But it would never amount to what you felt for yourself and that killed him.

He could see it in the way you cried, in the way you were already keeping everyone out. He'd rather die than let you go through all the pain alone.

When his hands had been scarred by his brothers, you'd help heal him, tell him about everything he still was and all the power he still held in his hands. In the worst days, when he didn't let anyone touch him, he let you.

It was always you.

Azriel wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, or how deep. He was sure he was still with you, still in your bed.

His shadows crept up on him, engulfing him slowly and whispering to him. Your name, just your name on repeat. It was enough to lull him back into sleep, to keep him calm.

Gone. Missing. y'n. Roof.

He shot up and ran fastest than he ever had in his life. It was as if he'd never been asleep but had been fighting a battle with the way he raced over.

He burst through the doors, the cold hight air hitting him.

You stood facing the stars, your bloody back to him. It wasn't as much blood as when he'd found you, but it was still enough to put a lump in his throat.

Immediately his shadows fell to you, cascading down your body and wrapping around your waist. There was a breeze in the air, pushing your hair back and exposing more signs of the pain and torture you must have gone through.

'I'm not gonna jump, if that's what you're thinking,' you said. You didn't even have to turn to him. The shadows probably told you enough.

'Why are you up here?' he asked, walking to you slowly and with careful steps. As if every step closer could you push you away from him.

'I'll never feel the win properly again,' you answered.

Azriel gulped down his own pain. You’d never sounded so small. ‘Can you get away from the ledge?’

'I'm not on the ledge.'

'You're too close for my liking.'

'Leave if you don't like it.'

'Don't do this,' he said.

'Do what?' you asked, folding your arms over your chest. You were cold, out in the hight but you wanted to see the stars. Needed to see them.

'Make me leave. Make everyone leave you. I know that's what you're doing. It's what you do every time,' you could feel him dawning closer. His shadows were all around you, almost drowning you.

‘Every time,’ you scoff, stepping down and turning on him. ‘It’s not every day you lose your wings Azriel! But don’t let me stop you from leaving, flap them and go!’ You yelled, unable to stop yourself, no matter how hard you tried. You didn’t want to hurt him, you just wanted to be alone.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

'You jump and I’ll catch you,' he said. He was a step away, he could just reach out and touch, just a gentle caress. 'I swear it, whatever you do, I’ll follow. I’m not letting you get away.’

He watched your back shudder as he reached out, brushing knuckles against your shoulder blade. He heard your sharp inhale follow.

'Don’t think I won’t follow, y/n.'

Finally, you turned around in his shadows. You couldn’t meet his eyes but at least you could face his chest.

His hands were gentle on your shoulder as he rubbed it gently. 'Can I get Madja to clean you up?' He asked.

You nodded as he led you away. You truly did not deserve your mate.

✩₊��.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Fifty-two years later...

When Amarantha had trapped the high lords of Prythian under the mountain, it hadn't be a conscious choice to follow your half-brother down. How Amarantha had allowed it, you weren't sure, but perhaps she wanted to use you just like her brother, or she thought it would bring more pain for him to see you suffer under there too.

You and Rhysand had barley spoke the last two years.

It had took you almost two months to heal fully enough to leave your room, another few months to face your family again. But even then, everyone knew something had changed in you. You didn't laugh as loud or smile as wide.

Rhysand was careful to ever let you out on a mission. Mor tried to take you out every night. Cassian spent all day every day with you and Azriel- he'd healed you better than any nurse.

Still, you had not told him he was your mate.

Still, you thought he wouldn't want it.

Still, you cared for your brother enough to not want him to go alone.

But being under the mountain, you could avoid your mate. At a painful price.

Until her. Rhys's mate. He hadn't shut up about her since he first met her, much to your dismay as you had to sit around and listen- having absolutely nothing better to do. And it only got worse when she turned up under the mountain. She was declaring her love for Tamlin- again, annoying your brother, and throwing Lucien into danger- which rather angered you. You had nothing against the ginger.

Rhysand had once sent you to find the girl to summon her as part of a bargain he'd made. He didn't want to go, he didn't want to look too forceful. You'd been lucky enough to find the two tangled up in each other against a cold wall, clothes ripped and hips moving together.

'Well, well well,' you'd intterupted.

Tamlin all but growled at you, but feyre was looking over you- evidently confused. She had no idea who you were. You, in your skimpy outfit that Amarantha kept you in (they all dipped low at your back, showing off your scars) and your eyes that were like a night sky.

'Amarantha's looking for her pet and Rhysand is looking for his. Honestly, i'd be a bit more worried if I were you. You know, considering Lucien still has an eye to lose.'

The two parted with your words as you sent Tamlin back to his master, the high lord glaring at you as you went. While Feyre tried to fix herself.

'Rhysand is over there, better not keep him waiting.' That was the first time you met her, having no idea how much trouble she'd be worth. The family that she'd become.

But Rhysand made sure you knew it all. From when the bond snapped in him and he'd stumbled. He ranted and ranted as they climbed out.

If only you were so talkative about Azriel. If only you could talk about him with your brother. But you'd tried not to painfully think about him. Climbing out of the mountain. It was all you could think of.

Maybe he'd have forgotten you? it had been fifty years. He'd probably realised how happy he could be without having to take care of you.

Rhys was allowed out of the mountain, he'd felt the breeze in his hair but you hadn't in fifty long years. You stood there a moment, bathing in the warmth as everyone left, as everyone ran off for their families and courts and the war that was inevitable. Eventually, Rhys offered you his arm. 'Shall we go home?'

He winnowed you there, on the balcony of your home. In a cloud of black smoke, the two of you appeared.

He went first, slipping through the doors slowly- like it could all be taken from them any minute.

You were hesitant, taking a moment to glance at the landscape behind you. It hadn't changed, not at all. The mountains were still there, everyone was still alive. Your home. In the last years it hadn't felt like home, but how could anywhere ever feel so close in your heart.

When you could find your feat again, you managed to slip through the doors. You were suddenly aware of how little clothing you were wearing, just enough to cover your chest and run down your legs. A chill settled down your back, your scars would be on show. What a way to great them all after fifty years.

Mor had her arms around Rhys's shoulders, crying into his shoulder.

Behind them you caught Amren, with something like tears in her eyes. You were just about to tease her before a body barrelled into yours in a blur of red syphons and your feet were lifted from the ground.

'Cassian.'

His arms tightened around you. You shoulder started to dampen with tears, his tears. The last time you'd seen him cry around you was when he'd seen a dog with only three legs. 'I'm keeping you on a leash from now on, stupid idiot.'

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, a smile gracing your lips. 'Is that a promise?'

He held you longer, tighter, not daring to let you go but at least settling you on the ground. He sighed against your head, controlling himself. 'He's missed you, you know,' he said. He was the only one you'd told, about your mate. 'Now that you're back, tell him. He deserves to know.'

Cassian slowly pulled away, holding you at arms length and smiling at you. He kissed your cheeks and then your forehead before parting to Rhysand.

Mor approached you next, slapping you in the arm.

'Ow!'

'Why would you follow him?' she snapped.

You blinked at her before she took you by the arm she'd slapped and embraced you, like a sister would. You dared not looking over her shoulder to find the one who hadn't come to you. Maybe Cass had got it wrong...

Mor pulled away, wiping at her eyes.

Azriel was as beautiful as the day you left him. His hair was the same length, he was the same height. He was just as you left him. It was hard to tell fifty years had passed on him.

And inside of you, tugging in your soul and heart you felt the familiar string of gold throbbing. But you still didn't feel that tug. You'd hoped it would have faded from you after half a year separated. Or at least have snapped for him. But no such relief.

He approached you, slowly. As if he was scared of scaring you away. But you just stood there.

His arms were delicate and soft around you as he brought you into his chest. He still smelled the same, cedar wood and shadows. Shadows that wrapped around you, shielding you from the rest of the room. They caressed you, head to two.

You held onto each other for what could have been another fifty years, but this time, it wasn't so painful.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Although nobody wanted to part after yours and Rhysand's return, you were exhausted. A trip to Rita's could wait another night or two. The only thing you wanted to do was hide in your room.

Strangely, your room looked lived in. As if somebody had moved in since you'd left. A moment of anger replaced grief. Had they brought someone else and given them your room? but then you smelt it, Az.

Lying in bed that night, exhausted, you couldn't find sleep. You closed your eyes and pictured Amarantha. You'd never been afraid of her, you weren't afraid of anything. But you re-played the horrors. Watching servants beat Feyre, watching Amarantha use your brother and on the occasion, even you. How she flaunted. How the most powerful lords were weak.

Under your door, shadows seeped in, rushing across the room to you. You smiled, watching your hand disappear in their darkness.

'Azriel?' you called.

There was shifting on the other side of the door before he slipped in, clicking it shut behind him.

You sat up in bed, shadows moving with you. 'Couldn't sleep?'

He wondered in, looking around your room. 'Sleeping's been... hard.'

You rolled over, opening the blanket and nodding your head. You couldn't think about the bond, not yet. Not while he looked so.... ruined. Beautiful- the most beautiful person in the world, but sad. As he climbed in next to you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped and his wings too.

His eyes scanned over you. You were in a thin and silk night dress that only brushed your knees, but the way he looked at you, mother you could've been naked. 'Fifty years,' his voice sounded barley controlled. 'Fifty years. You followed your brother down for fifty years? Why would you do that?'

You gulp. 'I would've done it for any of you. Except maybe Amren, she'd probably enjoy the peace for fifty years.'

You go to brush your hair back but Azriel seizes your wrist. He was angry. That's why his voice was rough and his chest rising and falling with barley controlled emotions. Could he feel it? your nerves, your lying?

'You left. You should've stayed, y/n, you know Rhysand didn't want you under there with him,' he said. 'For fifty years I haven't been able to sleep through a night thinking about the pain you must have been going through. After I swore to keep you safe, after I promised to catch you every time!'

'You couldn't have stopped me. You didn't promise, Az.'

His grip grew tighter. 'It went without saying.'

You looked around his eyes, seeing the pain and grief there also. Slowly, you brought your other hand up. He flinched as you took his cheek but eventually settled as your thumb ran over his cheekbone. 'I won't leave again, ok? I promise.'

He gulped, letting go of your wrist and looking down. 'I slept here,' he mumbled, but just loud enough to hear you. 'I couldn't sleep in my room. This was the only place I could rest.'

Your heart stuttered. Your hand dropped from his cheek. This man was your mate. Your mate. Your only love, whether or not the cauldron deemed it.

Azriel took your hesitation. 'I-i'm sorry, you probably didn't want to hear that. I've probably ruined your one place of peace-'

'Stay,' you said, before you could think of what you were asking. 'Sleeping wasn't exactly easy under the mountain either. I just trust I won't have to put a wall of cushions between us.' as if you wanted that. As if you haven't thought about his calloused hands all over you.

Azriel smiled and stayed the night.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The third time he almost lost you, broke him...

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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