#( if you prefer a different thing just tell me °^° )

[jmtorres]

i just saw a post about how we just have to "live with" covid and wanting more protections from our government is unreasonable because we'll never wipe it out, it jumps species and is in all sorts of animal populations (like, true ok) so why even try to

and apparently the argument was aimed at people (who I haven't seen in the wild) who are arguing we should still be in lockdown. and i have mixed feelings about the idea of extended lockdown or attenuating isolations; but my main feeling at this point is not that the government should keep us apart but that the government should be trying to make it safer for us to be together

things the government could/should be doing about covid:

we know that ventilation/air movement helps a shitton. we should be incentivizing upgrades to ventilation systems in all public buildings with shit like rebates or tax deductions, while phasing in eventual legal requirements. (and uh. it has occurred to me that the US might actually be doing this sideways by there's currently this decade enormous tax incentives in re energy efficient upgrades for slowing climate change and you know. energy efficient hvac does tend to improve ventilation. extra point to biden here.)

mandatory paid sick leave so workers aren't under social or economic pressure to work when sick

passing out RT-LAMP tests like metrix that actually work instead of the rapid antigen tests that have become less and less reliable as the virus mutates

i don't know how you'd write this law but like 95% or more of computer-based work can be done remotely and companies should not be allowed to force people to return to the office. I know there's people who want to be back in person and I'm not saying they should be forced to stay home but ffs I know of at least two people CLOSE to me who worked remotely before the pandemic and at some point their workplaces tried to tell them they weren't allowed to do that anymore despite the pre-existing contracts. stop canceling remote work for people that want, need, or prefer it.

for that matter, every college lecture that was an online class during covid should still be offered as an online class, there is no reason to force students into auditoriums in person. you got the communications infrastructure up and running, why are you tearing it down. give people the OPTION. it increases accessibility for everyone!

covid vaccine immunity lasts about four months. this should be well-publicized and everyone should be able to re-up for free every four months. "every year, like the flu vaccine" is demonstrably not often enough. actually "for free" isn't good enough start handing out $10 gift cards you will be shocked at how many people who are resistant to the idea of vaccines will fold for $10 a shot

are there already laws on the books about masks in medical settings that some medical professionals are blatantly ignoring because they forgot what best practices were before the plague and they're 'tired of masking'? if not, pass laws. if so, fucking enforce them

oh another incentives for upgrades phasing into legal requirements thing: brass doorknobs and railings over stainless steel or whatever. microbes do not survive on brass surfaces

i mean. i know this one sounds too extreme to a lot of people but. UBI.

most if not all of these measures will prevent or ameliorate other pandemics of different diseases that may arise in the future. and just. generally improve our health and quality of life for other reasons.

I haven't felt safe to go to a concert since 2020. Maybe if I knew a venue was legally required to have ventilation to a certain standard and that none of the ticket takers and ushers were on the job sick to avoid risking loss of paycheck or job, and knew a larger percentage of the crowd had up to date vaccinations--maybe if any or all that, I might ever feel comfortable going to a show again.

wouldn't it be nice if those of us who have been disabled, by covid or other conditions, had accessible remote options but also occasionally felt safe enough to interact with and participate in wider society?

one of the arguments on the post I saw was how isolation was massively psychologically damaging and various strata of society were affected in all sorts of ways, from undersocialized kids to increased depression in--well across the board, I think. and here's the thing: WE KNOW. PEOPLE WITH CHRONIC HEALTH CONDITIONS, LONG COVID OR OTHERWISE, KNOW ISOLATION SUCKS REAL BAD. because we, both for our own health and due to disability ostracism, are still isolating and isolated more than most.

what are you as individuals or societies, what are our governments, doing to help make it safe and accessible to rejoin you????

[papergirllife]

Lee Taeyong (M)

‘I beg you don't embarrass me, motherfucker.’ But there's always exceptions when it comes to love right?

Taeyong x Bartender! Reader

Wordcount: 6.7k

Warnings: in this fic Taeyong has impulsive tendencies and physical aggression (not towards reader), light b*ndage, or*l play, slight or*l fixation, grinding, penetrati*on, Taeyong is very much down bad in this fic so lots of fluff.

The party is so boring, no one’s dancing even though they’re dressed to the nines in this extravagant hotel ballroom that could rival any celebrity’s expensive wedding, but instead all they’re doing is talking business, but the worst of them, are gossiping, and of course, to your downtrodden luck, you’re the gossip of the night.

“He’s going to be bored of her soon, I just know it, just look at her, so different from his ex and usual type.”

You’re not the type to be affected by being shit talked, however, you do have your worries, and frankly, heartbreak is one thing, but your ego? That’s another, you think to yourself as you sip on your glass of scotch. You sigh as you recall how you ended up in this predicament in the first place.

Maybe you should’ve thought through this more thoroughly, you think to yourself after seeing people go in and out of the supply closet, which is obviously a disguise for the illegal casino beneath the pub you’re working at, though, some people do really come for just drinks, but most of them are customers of both businesses under this roof and since you’ve been here for a week plus now, you recognise some of the regulars by now, but a man you don’t recognise is suddenly taking a seat right in front of you, usually customers prefer to go to your colleagues who have been here far longer and know what customers want, only helping out more on weekends where more people come in for a drink.

You rise from your stool, yes, one great thing about working here means workers don’t have to meaninglessly stand the whole night.

“You’re new here?” the man asks, and if you were being honest, he’s probably the prettiest man you’ve seen, but you screw a neutral expression on your face, one should never let their guard down around a man of all things.

“Yup, what can I get you to drink?” you ask as you take in his appearance, dripping in designer, a pretty loose blouse that accentuates his sharp facial features, earrings hanging off his earlobes, the designs feminine compared to what most men wear.

“Scotch on the rocks, please,” he says while he leans back to make himself comfortable, his arms crossed, usually clients would be looking around for someone to take home by now, the usual ‘pub guard’ scanning, you like to call it, but for the ones that want a drink before going down to gamble, they usually have this impatient look in their eyes, not that it affects you, your skin is as thick as a cheese wheel.

However, this man just sits and observes you. Is he part of the mafia and is scared that someone’s going to poison him at any moment? Or is he a cop and is trying to make you cave to tell him about the illegal casino downstairs? You’re just going to act like you had no idea, you’re not working in the casino itself, they can’t charge you on any terms as long as your boss has an alcohol licence, which is what they promised you when you interviewed, if they’re lying you’re gonna have to kick someone’s ass.

When you pass him his drink, he just sits back and takes a sip, his obnoxiously large eyes still looking at you, they’re pretty eyes, but you’ve never kept someone’s attention for this long, though, in most cases, you could walk away, like those creepy men on the subway, you’re not sure if this guy’s a creepy guy, he hasn’t tried grabbing your hand yet, if he did then you’re viable to call security, but he’s just watching you.

“So, what brings you here?” he asks, a hand mindlessly swirling the glass in his hand.

“Needed money, Seoul isn’t getting cheaper by the day,” you say, a general answer.

“How old are you?” he asks, prodding, why is he still prodding?

“In my early twenties, above the legal age to serve you drinks, what about you?” it’s time for you to prod, engage with customers a bit, your manager always tells you, be a little friendlier.

“28. You look older than early twenties, not that it’s a bad thing, of course,” he says, and with the way he says it, you know he doesn’t mean it in a demeaning way, not that you mind, you swore off men long ago, people always tell you there’s better fish in the sea, but all you manage to fish are trash.

“Thanks, I did my makeup to look older,” you reply as out of the corner of your eye you catch a group of men walking in the pub.

“Why?” he asks, oh men, they’re so innocent to the things women go through everyday.

“So people would take me seriously,” you answer honestly before you excuse yourself to make drinks for the customers, you don’t want your manager to think you’re slacking off within a month.

However, after only finishing their second order, your colleague says she’d take over from you, thinking the customers are her regulars, you move away without questioning.

So you go back to talking to the man, this time round, he finally reveals his name to be Taeyong, he even orders a second drink of your choice.

“A negroni?” he asks with the expression of a kicked puppy, smacking his lips distastefully before he requests for a glass of water.

“Wanted to try it out myself one of these days, but I was unsure, guess I’m quite certain I won’t ever try it now I guess,” you say with a shrug and a chuckle at how comical his expressions are, a little bit of betrayal and a tinge of shock, which makes him look more human in your eyes.

A new customer makes his way to the bar in the meantime, but Taeyong’s brows scrunch up when he sees you’re about to step away to serve the customer.

“Let other people handle him, you just stay here with me,” he suggests.

“Taeyong, as nice it is talking to you, I’d like to remind you that this is a strictly professional relationship, please respect the boundaries between a bartender and a customer-

“Missy, who do you think you are talking to him like that, do you know who he is-

“It’s fine Ms Choi, she’s right, I’m merely a regular, I need to respect her boundaries,” Taeyong says, cutting off your manager.

Your manager looks flabbergasted before she composes herself, bowing to Taeyong before she drags you away from the bar to the small staff area on the side.

“I'm warning you since you're new here, Mr Lee is a VIP, don't do anything stupid, he's not the type to pull dumb shit, so you have nothing to worry about. Alright, that's all, get back to work,” she says before dismissing you.

“If you're worried about getting less tips then you don't have to worry, I'll tip you accordingly for the time spent talking to me,” Taeyong says when you get back to your spot.

“It's not that, I’m getting paid anyways, tips are just an extra, I'm still getting paid a base salary talking to you and not doing anything, so a win is a win, I guess,” you brush off, it's not that busy today anyways.

“No, I'm a responsible customer, how about you make me another drink? One that you fancy?” Taeyong suggests.

Hence for the whole night, you indulge in the lengthy conversation the two of you share, and with every night he comes in, you find comfort in this growing friendship, the only hiccup being that he tips you too much money and he won't take no for an answer.

Months go by and the lines between you and Taeyong start to blur, but you're still quite hesitant, you haven't committed in a relationship since a long time ago and if you're honest, you don't know much about Taeyong other than the fact that he's a businessman, but of what sort of business? You don't have the foggiest idea.

Tonight is a Friday night, which means the bar is busier than usual. Surprisingly enough, Taeyong hasn't dropped in tonight, he doesn't come in every night, but he'd never miss Friday nights.

“Hey, can we get two martinis,” a customer asks, distracting you from your wandering thoughts, and you quickly get to work, but out of the corner of your eye, you see a familiar silhouette heading towards the direction of the fake storage room where the underground casino entrance is located, but the customers asked for something on top of their drinks and you were distracted once again.

After a few more customers, Jiun, a bottle girl and your fellow colleague, rushes to your area of the counter in distress.

“Table 5 wants 6 Coronas in a bucket but I think I just got my period, is it okay if you bring it to them?” she asks, and how can you say no to a woman who's in need of help?

“Sure thing, do you need a pad?” you ask, just in case, you're sure you have some in your locker if she doesn't.

“No, I have one on me, but thank you so much,” she says before scurrying off to the direction of the bathroom.

After putting together the order, you quickly make your way to the table with the customers’ drinks, placing down the bucket on the table.

“You new here, pretty girl? Never seen you around before?” one of the men at the table asks.

“Nope, just helping out my coworker,” you replied as you began to make your way back to the counter.

“What a shame, a pretty face like yours should be admired more, why grind behind a boring counter?” another asks, this one's nearer to you, standing up from his seat to get closer to you.

“Sorry, I have to get back to my job now,” you say, trying to excuse yourself, but the man grabs your arm, telling you to not rush and sit down and have a bottle.

Suddenly, you feel a presence behind you and then you feel someone pulling you by the strap of your money pouch.

“She said no, unhand her,” you'd recognise that voice anywhere, and looking to your side, you see Taeyong next to you, his usually round boba eyes now appearing in a sharp warning stare.

“Fuck off, dude, we were here first, shouldn't we have first dibs on her-

Before you could react to being demeaned in such a way, Taeyong's fist connects with his ugly face, and to your horror, both of them start fighting.

You quickly try pulling them apart but Taeyong pushes himself and the man out of your way, telling you to get security, you didn't want to leave his side, but thankfully, security were already making their way to your direction, blocked by a few drunken customers, his friend, takes the chance to jump in on the fight, and who are you to stand there and do nothing? Taeyong might be handling one guy on his own just fine, but you can't watch him get beaten to a pulp in your name, and you did the most logical thing you could think of by kicking the guy's head with your thick heeled boots and to your astonishment, he seems a bit disorientated by the ordeal, security finally made their way to Taeyong to pull the guy off him and escort him out the pub.

“Are you okay?” you ask Taeyong, but when you inspect his condition a bit closer, you cringe at his busted lip and bruised cheek.

However, before you could suggest accompanying him to the hospital, police arrive at the scene and next thing you know, you’re being escorted to the police station for questioning along with the asshole and Taeyong.

They finished up with you quick, they were a bit sceptical about Taeyong merely defending you, but you played it up a little by lying about how scared you were and maybe you chalked up a little bit on how his hands felt like they were everywhere on you, but it's the least you can do for Taeyong, and it's not like there were cameras anywhere.

“How long is he going to be questioned, officer?” you ask the policeman who had questioned you.

“Probably not long, seeing that his lawyer is here,” he points to the entrance, where a tall man in a suit walks in and follows the lead of an officer into the room Taeyong is being questioned in.

Knowing that he has a lawyer with him, you sigh a breath of relief and sit down on a nearby bench, the coolness of the plastic material digging into your skin, you regret wearing your beloved black velvet shorts now.

Fortunately, true to his words, Taeyong came out soon after, heading to a nearby desk to finish up some paperwork with his lawyer, so you get to your feet and head over to him.

“Brawling in your own pub is a new low, Lee, just let your boys handle shit like this next time,” the officer says.

“Wait, what do you mean your own pub?” the question flies out of your lips and Taeyong looks up, stunned, not knowing that you were still here.

“Leave the questions for later, just finish signing the papers and head out,” the officer orders, with a roll of your eyes, you stand right there, waiting for Taeyong to explain himself, his lawyer trying his best not to laugh.

“So? Care to explain yourself why you've been lying to me this whole time? Regular my ass,” you mutter the last part to yourself as you walk out the police station, cursing when you realise you don't have your coat with you, it's bearable now that it's creeping into June, but you've always preferred being warm.

“I'm going to get going, my cab's here,” his lawyer says, grasping this small window to leave before he gets caught up in a lover's quarrel, passing Taeyong something, to which you identify as car keys.

“Thank you, Johnny,” he says before turning to you with a sigh, his lips sit in a thin line, looking a bit lost at the sight of you, your usual smile wiped from your face as your pretty eyes stare daggers into his face, arms folded, and that's when he notices the goosebumps littering your arm.

“I didn't tell you that I was the boss because I wanted to get to know you without the label and pressure of me being your boss,” Taeyong explains as he shrugs off his coat to hang it on your shoulders before he directs you to a luxury SUV parked nearby.

“You could've told me sooner, asshole. And, why did you pull that shit tonight? You could've gotten yourself beaten to a pulp if I didn't literally step in and step on his head,” you lament, expressing your dissatisfaction with your entire body to the point of swinging your beloved Coach bag that you told Taeyong you were saving up weeks for, and Taeyong thinks you're so cute when you're angry, but he does have to make an effort to dodge the angry swing of your bag as he helps you climb up the passenger seat of his car.

“I know, and thank you for saving my ass but I need to shut the door and get going now, princess,” Taeyong says and does so before you could protest his usage of endearments when you're mad at him.

“How about we get some food before I drive you back to your place?” he suggest when he starts the car, seeing that you're now giving him the silent treatment, face turned to the side to look out to not see him, but the word ‘fine’ uttered from your lips has Taeyong breathing a sigh of relief as he confidently drives into a familiar street where he knows a convenience store is located.

After getting and heating up noodles and onigiris to share, the two of you take a seat in the empty store.

“Don't do embarrassing shit like this on my behalf ever again,” you warn before digging into your cup noodles, the spicy warm soup bringing instant comfort and familiarity after such a hectic night.

“It doesn't matter if it's on your behalf, that fucker deserved it,” Taeyong reasoned as he peels off the plastic wrapping of his onigiri, taking a huge bite of the delicious rice ball he was craving.

“Just don't do anything stupid anymore, if I couldn't handle myself I could've called security, you doing something stupid embarrasses me too, you know, I don't want to end up in the police station with you ever again, my friends are going to think I'm dating a crook,” you say offhandedly, but Taeyong’s eyes are as wide as saucers as he takes in your words.

“Wait, what do you mean dating?” he asks with the biggest smile on his face, onigiri placed on the side, suddenly he's not hungry anymore.

“Don't tell me you're not taking responsibility, I'm literally wearing your jacket and risked jail time for your ass,” you say so casually that Taeyong feels like he's having a fever dream, not even his best fantasies would he ever depict himself being labelled as your significant other.

“No, never, I'm definitely taking full responsibility, and I promise, no more doing stupid shit to embarrass you, I swear,” Taeyong pledges, his hand coming up to salute you, the goofy gesture finally getting the first laugh out of you for the night.

“Though, to prevent me from doing stupid shit, I have a proposition, you have a marketing degree right? I know you said you're against working for big corps cause you hate how they practically steal money off of people's needs, but I do have a few establishments, restaurants of a few cuisines, that need a proper marketer to oversee and promote, so if you're not opposed to letting go your bartending job…” and before Taeyong could finish, you were quick to say yes.

Boy, do the days go by so fast after that, your new job is mostly online, you have two coworkers, a graphic designer –Mark Lee and a social media manager, or better known as the restaurants’ staffs’ biggest fear, Lee Haechan. A small department compared to the two finance departments, one for clean money and one for dirty money, but if anyone asks, you'd say you didn’t have a clue.

Starting out a new job wasn't easy, nor was it too difficult, being a ‘quite fresh’ graduate meant you still recall plenty of the knowledge you've studied in college, but the huge funds you had was of great assistance, which brings you to this party hosted by his friend.

Taeyong said he wanted to bring Yuta, his omakase chef who had just earned his first three Michelin stars under his new restaurant, thanks to your hard work in marketing to attract new rich customers and food critics.

However, people on the top of the food chain always had a reputation of being absolute dickheads.

“She’s literally younger than him, his ex was older by five years at least, and she was one of us, I did some digging, this girl isn’t even from one of the SKY universities,” one of them comments, and it’s true, you’re not that smart and you weren’t born with a silver spoon in your mouth, but what has you freezing in your spot is what comes out of their mouths next.

“I heard he got into a fight at his own bar for her and ended up getting detained for a bit, she’s just going to have him end up locked up if he stays with her, people like her bring nothing but bad omens.”

“Don’t tell me you’re letting their words get to you,” Yuta says, popping out of nowhere beside you.

“Even the strongest trees waver under the pressure of the winds, Yuta,” you say before finishing your glass.

Yuta and you have grown close after you had worked closely to promote the restaurant, and he values your opinion of which presentation you prefer, which is rare for chefs, especially the ones you've worked with with many years of experience and a reputation.

“Yeah, but who gives a fuck about some shitty pretentious university, that shit don’t matter as long as you land a job, plus, their faces are so botched, you look way better, Taeyong would never pick these shitty pick mes over you,” Yuta comments way too loudly for your comfort, but thankfully the girls were loudly squealing at the fact that their friend is finally here, welcoming her, unbeknownst of Yuta’s lethal words.

“Pick who over my sweetheart?” Taeyong asks, a hand coming to rest around your waist.

“I said you wouldn't, but someone’s doubting after hearing a few snarky remarks,” Yuta says, which has you freezing in your spot, Taeyong’s always been very protective and defensive about you, you don’t want to witness him fucking someone up tonight at such a prestigious party.

“Yeah, trust me, man to man, he’s definitely just fucking her on the down low, he’d never go for someone lower class, she’s most probably just a cheap fuck,” you look over Yuta’s shoulder to see a man standing next to one of the girls who were talking shit about you, two people were blocking their sight of your little group, so they hadn’t seen Taeyong coming back.

And to your horror, Taeyong leaves your side, walking up to the little clique.

“Oh god, he’s going to embarrass me,” you say with a groan before you quickly follow Taeyong as fast as you can in your Louboutins.

With a swing and the cracking of bones, you see the guy hunched over immediately, cursing as he holds his bloodied nose in his hand, when you finally got to the scene, the music had been cut, the place drowning in shocked silence no thanks to your heels, sue you, but you didn’t expect to need to run tonight, it was just two feet but these heels are so unwalkable.

“Don’t let me catch you assholes talking about my girlfriend ever again, you don’t want to know what I can do beyond breaking your nose,” Taeyong threatens as the guy quickly cowers on his spot on the floor.

“I wouldn’t mess with him if I were you,” someone says as they walk towards the scene, his name is Woozi, Taeyong had told you about the host of this party being a close friend of his who he had helped out when he had just taken over his father’s empire, you had no idea how much that meant to Woozi, but seeing them interacting now, you understand that if you mess with one of them, the other one immediately retaliates, “you wouldn’t want to go against him or me,” he says, elaborating no further, you hadn’t ask Taeyong what Woozi’s empire entails, but you think the less you know, the better.

“No, no, please, I was stupid, I’m sorry, miss,” he apologises to you before quickly escaping the scene, the girls leaving as well, tails tucked between their legs as they scramble, it’s quite an amusing scene.

“Thank you for standing up for me, Woozi, it’s nice to finally meet the host of this amazing party,” you say before sticking out your hand for him to shake.

“The honour’s all mine,” Woozi says as he takes your hand, “and nice to finally meet you, it’s nice to finally put a face to the person hyung’s been gushing about nonstop,” Woozi teases, which then earns him a light playful slap from Taeyong.

“Gushing is perfectly fine, I just wish he’d stop embarrassing himself and me on my behalf,” you say with an annoyed sigh as you turn to stare daggers into your boyfriend.

“Oh come on, I couldn’t just stand them and let them belittle you, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t do anything?” Taeyong retorts with a sheepish expression, he knows you don’t like it when he goes out of his way for you to this point, but he couldn’t help it, he loves you so dearly.

“You’re just proving them right by reacting, Yong, we talked about this,” you say, exasperated as you toss your arms up in defeat, you don’t know how to get this through his head at all.

“Proving what? Baby,” Taeyong calls out as you take off to the exit too, you have decided that tonight has been too much for you, you're tired of all this glitz and glamour with this thick layer of utter bullshit with their grade school playground gimmicks.

“Help me keep an eye on Yuta, I need to talk to her,” Taeyong quickly says to Woozi before he picks up the pace to follow you, ending up out at the lobby of the hotel, you were talking to the valet, and he distantly hears you asking for the keys.

“Baby, come on, don’t be mad, I’m sorry, I was stupidly acting on impulse, you know how defensive I get when it comes to you,” Taeyong reasons, but you keep quiet, trying to compose your thoughts, your car that you share with Taeyong pulls up, and immediately Taeyong tries taking the keys from the valet.

“You drank,” you say before pushing his hand away to retrieve your key, you did too, but Taeyong’s alcohol tolerance is much lower than yours, god knows he shouldn’t be driving.

Taeyong’s heart warms when he registers the chastise from you, you still care about him, you still love him, and so with a love stricken smile on his face and a slight bounce in his step, he's a giggly drunk so this happens all the time, though when he gets in the car, he worries once more when he sees how you chose to not play any music nor talk whilst driving.

When the two of you finally reached home, you immediately retreated into your shared bedroom, not sparing Taeyong a glance, not even when he offered to remove your heels for you.

Taeyong sighs to himself as he follows you upstairs, you had locked yourself in the bathroom as of now, probably cleaning your face free off makeup, he knows how you much you hate the texture of it on your skin despite loving to doll up, and he can’t blame you, even bb cream feels a tad bit too thick for Taeyong when you had applied it on him for fun.

Taeyong quickly changes into his house clothes and leaves the bedroom, just in case you need more space, he never wants to intrude when you want some alone time, even if he craves your affection, you’ll come around soon, you always do, Taeyong reassures himself.

When Taeyong was about to turn on the telly to kill some time, he hears you walking down the stairs, turning back to look over the sofa, Taeyong’s jaw drops at the sight of you.

Adorned in a beautiful lingerie set with a delicate crystal chain hanging around your upper left thigh, your face without a smidge of product, but he thinks you look best like this, but what finally has his cock twitching was what you had in your hold, a familiar pair of handcuffs.

“Sweetheart…” Taeyong mutters as thoughts of endless possibilities of how the night would play out runs through his head, but you silence him with the tip of your finger placed on his lips.

“Just let me do my thing, sit back and enjoy,” you say before you drop to your knees, your sultry eyes watching Taeyong’s every expression, and the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing has you cracking a smile as you lock his hand into the handcuffs.

Taeyong feels like he’s being hypnotised when your eyes stay on his whilst sliding his pants and boxers down, he almost didn’t feel his cock twitching from the cold air, but before he could even register the cold in its entirety, you take him into your mouth, the sudden action has Taeyong cursing, he would’ve bucked into your mouth if it wasn’t for your hands holding his hips down, he breathes a slightly frustrated sigh from the restriction, but like the little minx you are, you quickly hollow your cheeks after sinking in deeper, the tip of his length hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck!” Taeyong curses as he grows tense at your ministrations, he swears he almost came right then and there when he felt the constriction of your throat, his fingers turn white from grasping against the cuffs to anchor himself.

You take in the sight of him struggling to not cum and take pity on him, your mouth leaving his cock with a pop with a sly smile on your lips before your hands grasp him tightly, making sure he doesn’t cum too soon, the pressure sending a jolt down Taeyong’s spine, his usual round boba eyes now hooded but he scrunches them shut on impulse when you push back the foreskin, exposing the sensitive tip, giving it quick kitten licks before you suck on it like a lollipop, your tongue placed underneath his tip and you suck hard, and that’s when Taeyong goes over the edge, his body seizing up, you quickly take him down your throat, smiling around the edges of his cock when you feel the familiar warmth running down your throat, you keep him in your mouth until he stops, pulling off of him with a slight giggle when you see his chest heaving, limp against the couch, all from your undoing, and what a power trip that gives you, a rich and powerful man succumbing to your actions.

“How are you holding up, baby? Need a break?” you ask as you straddle him, tossing over your leg to situate yourself perfectly between his thighs, the lace material coming into contact with his cock, twitching back to life when it feels the slight warmth and moisture of your heat.

“More, please,” Taeyong utters as he tries his best to move his hips, and so you indulge him, rotating your hips until he hardens underneath you again.

You hear the clinks of his cuffs when you stand up, ceasing all physical contact, giggling when you hear him beg for you to come back, but he goes mute when he sees you shift the crotch of your lingerie to the side, climbing back into his embrace.

“You’re gonna ride me all dressed up prettily, sweetheart?” Taeyong asks, head tilted to the side as he takes in the sight of you, eyes locked onto his as you stare down at him, and he can’t help himself, lowering his head to litter kisses on your arm as he inhales your scent, call him a madman, but your scent might as well be as addictive as nicotine itself, the way he can’t seem to get enough of it.

Taeyong then shifts his head to the valley of your breasts, mouthing at your cleavage, pulling down the flimsy coverage by its thin straps to gain access to your bare chest, goosebumps rise on your skin when he finally takes a nipple into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks on it like his life depends on it, like he really wants to eat you up, the action has you chasing for more pleasure, grinding your clit on the tip of his length before you can't take it anymore, reaching down with shaking hands to position him to your core, moaning his name as you finally slide down, slowly taking him inside you inch by inch, Taeyong's succumbed to the sweet feeling of your warm walls, giving up on worshipping your boobs, instead he's gripping onto your hips hard as he focuses on being engulfed in your heat, he's kind of slobbering on your right boob, but you find it arousing, the way he's so lost in pleasure, his eyes shut, brows furrowed as he mutters a string of sweet nothings as you make your way down to the hilt.

An almost delirious smile makes its way onto Taeyong’s face when you squeeze around him, head dipped low as he curses from your actions, you tilt his chin up with your fingertips, ego inflating at the sight of how wrecked he is and you barely even started.

“It’s been so long and you’re still reacting this way,” you noted as you caressed the side of his face.

“For you? Forever,” Taeyong says with full honesty, eyes overflowing with lust as he confesses, looking so vulnerable, underneath you like you’re his god, and in a way, you might just be, if Taeyong had it his way, he’d build a palace just for you and dedicate his life to you.

“I know,” you say with a row of your hips, cursing in unison with your lover when you feel him penetrate the deepest parts of your heat, that sensitive spot that has your toes curling.

Spurred on by Taeyong’s ever vocal devotion towards you, you raise your hips before slamming down once again, and the moan of your name escaping his lips has you doing it again and again, the quick drag of his length against your flesh has the whole house filled with the sound of sex resonating within its walls, you’re grateful Taeyong’s unit is the penthouse, because Taeyong’s always been so vocal in bed, his voice pitched much higher than it usually is, and as much as you revel in the feeling of people admiring your man, you don’t want anyone else hearing how beautiful he sounds when he’s laid bare underneath you.

With how fast you’re going, you’re sure there’s indentations of the sofa’s legs on the expensive wooden flooring, but fuck it, you’re so close, but you’re to blame for that, clenching on him every time you sink down, just so you could see the way he tries the very hardest not to cum way too early, not that you’d mind, it happened many times before, and you still find it so hot.

Deciding to not prolong the torture any longer, you reach down to rub quick circles on your clit as you grind the tip of his cock to that one spot deep inside, that perfect 12 o'clock angle that has your legs turning jelly, with a hiss of Taeyong’s name and a spasm of your walls from the shocks of pleasure coursing through your entire body, you finally reach your peak, your body sagging in sweet relief, your sensitive nipples feel so good against his skin, but after having a quick moment to yourself, you quickly slide off of him with a loud squelch that got a giggle out of you even in this heated state, getting down on your knees and take him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and suck, lips stretched, with his dick lodge at the back of your throat when you see his legs buckle and soon after, splashes of his warm release drip down your throat once again, when the flow ceases, you pull off of him with a deafening pop.

“Good boy,” you say after getting up brushing his cheek softly with those tender eyes that make Taeyong weak in the knees, only he gets to see this tender side of you, and it drives him mad sometimes, that it’s only reserve for him, of everyone you could choose to dote on, you chose him, and he hopes you’ll keep choosing him till the end of time.

With a quick click, he feels the cuffs being loosened and tossed away, instantly his arms are around your figure, pulling you into a deep kiss, the taste of himself on your lips spurs him on, but he wills himself to get his shit together, he knows you must be tired from doing all the work tonight, and there’s something that needs to be addressed soon, and so he pulls away from your lips, his hand placed on your right cheek, thumb brushing against the curvature of your cheek bone.

“Do you feel better now? Are you still angry at me or do I need to do more than letting you ravage my body like that?” Taeyong jokes with a laugh, but he immediately sobers up when he sees you sigh and climb off his sturdy legs.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten mad like that,” you say as you cringe as you recall how you acted out earlier today, you know no one’s perfect, but when you slip up, it reminds you too much of your own mother, throwing a tantrum and running away, and you swear you’d never be like her, but at the end of the day, you’re a work of progress, and fortunately, Taeyong understands.

“Do you want to tell me what triggered you?” Taeyong asks, his tone gentle, he never directs his aggression at you, no matter the situation, he loves you too much to ever even think of doing that.

“They said some things, and they’re not entirely wrong-” but you’re being cut off by an irritated sigh, Taeyong hates it when you demean yourself this way. “Before you get mad, hear me out, they said how I’d always get you in trouble, and when you think about it, they’re not wrong, I literally landed you in jail the first night we got together, Yong, and the shit they said about me not being from one of the prestigious universities, they’re not wrong about that, it’s just facts, I’m just not part of this elite social ladder, that isn’t the point. The point is that I feel like I’m tarnishing your reputation and in relation, your businesses,” you finish off with another sigh, you haven’t been sighing this much these days, so this feels oddly familiar in the worst ways possible, Taeyong’s been making your life more comfortable every single day, but you on the other hand, are contributing to his troubles.

“Don’t let them get to your head, you’re literally bringing in so much profit for me, sweetheart, next time I’ll throw a party just to show everyone how our numbers are doing, it’ll blow them away, also, you’re doing all that without a goddamn degree from those snobbish colleges. Lastly, you don’t get me in trouble, it’s just part and parcel of protecting the person I love, something they’d never understand with how shallow they are, don’t let people with an EQ of 0 determine how you live, and I know what you want to say,” Taeyong says when he sees you open your mouth to protest, “I’ll try my best to not get in trouble and keep my temper in check, but I do hope you understand that if it isn’t me, I’m just gonna have someone else do the dirty job of beating them up,” Taeyong says, compromising, that’s how his father and mother did it, he always believes that’s the key to a long lasting marriage, which is something he’d want with you in the near future.

“Fine,” you say with a sigh, but he sees the ghost of a smile on your face as you lean down to rest your head on his broad shoulder, littering kisses from his neck to the end of his shoulder, Taeyong lets himself bask in your affection for a bit, knowing that you thrive off giving physical affection, but he's a clean freak at the end of the day, getting the both of you clean is still a priority.

“Come, let’s have a bath, my love,” Taeyong suggests as he carries you the direction of your bedroom, and you let him, soaking up the feeling of being loved, maybe Taeyong’s right, nothing matters when you have a love as cosmic as the one you share with Taeyong.

[loggiepj]

To Love A Lannister

chapter 13 | chapter 14

"We'll arrive at Sunspear in a week's time," Oberyn announced, approaching you leaning against the railing on the quarterdeck, facing the vast ocean ahead.

Darkness had started to loom around the ship, waves almost as black as a squid's ink. The sun was almost a quarter visible as it was being consumed by the horizon, obliterating any light. The only thing shining across the distance was the red patch of sky encircling the edges of the sun. If it weren't for the torches surrounding the deck, you wouldn't be able to see the Dornishman standing beside you. "How do you feel about that? A lot has changed since we left home."

"Indeed," you said. "I thought I'd look forward to my warm bed and the fresh air of Dorne back home. Now, it seems like I'm terrified setting foot on some land I thought was my birthplace."

"You don't have to be," he assured you. "You're not alone, you know. And your sister is the Queen—"

"She doesn't even know who I am, does she?" You turned to look at him.

Oberyn shrugged. "She will. In time."

You sighed, avoiding his gaze. The sky had turned blood orange. "And I . . . I don't think I'm worthy to be a Targaryen as much as I'm a Martell."

"Don't be so hard on yourself-"

"I'm a bastard, if any, I'm just good at being a bastard. That's all I'll ever be. You know, I think I probably prefer being a bastard, with no one expecting me of anything—"

"The blood of Rhaella Targaryen runs through your veins," Oberyn interjected. "You don't know yet of its importance but you will in time."

"I—" You immediately stopped talking upon seeing Cersei walk around the deck, with a handmaiden following behind her, her eyes on the horizon beyond, witnessing what little of the sun left before it was devoured by the ocean.

"Because of her, right? You've grown fond of her," Oberyn said, sighing. "You're even wearing her damn necklace."

As if she knew you were looking, Cersei turned towards the quarterdeck, her eyes meeting yours in a tensed gaze. Your hand grabbed against the wooden railing a bit too hard. Oberyn was far from wrong. It was because of the Lannister woman.

This was all too easy and perfect if you were just you — a bastard from the Martell house. You would serve Cersei, even if your family would despise you. But sometimes, people fall in love with someone they can't have.

You missed the Queen Mother terribly, her striking green eyes piercing right through yours, observing what you two could possibly be talking about for making you frown that bad.

All you wanted to do at that moment was hold her, and tell her that you still wish to marry her if she also felt the same about you.

"I . . . I do," you confessed softly, avoiding Cersei's eyes. "She's . . . She's my weakness."

"It will pass, Y/n."

You then turned to glare at Oberyn. "What's that supposed to mean? When you fell in love with Ellaria, did it pass too?"

"That's different, Y/n. You think Cersei will feel the same about you if she only knew?" Oberyn scoffed. "The Lannisters were one of the houses that ended the line of Targaryens. They even paid mercenaries to assassinate Queen Daenaerys herself and she's in another continent. If Cersei knew you were Daenaerys' sister, bastard or not, she'd kill you herself. Did you forget what they did to Robert's bastards?"

Cersei had now walked towards the stern, staring into the darkness ahead. Her golden hair billowing against the wind was the only brightest thing in that ship.

"All I'm saying is," Oberyn went on. "You ought to be careful. End it while it's still early. Cersei is a woman of ruthless nature. She wouldn't see you through."

Oberyn then placed a hand on your shoulder before he left.

You sighed, right hand curling into a fist on your side, mind fighting between leaving and heading towards the woman down below. Yet, the heart wanted what it wants as you began to climb down the stairs leading to the stern.

"You said you'd always want to have your own ship one day," you started, approaching Cersei, her perfume infiltrating your nostrils. The wind gently blew the Queen's hair against all directions, and it was such a wonderful sight.

Cersei raised a hand towards the handmaiden, making the latter bow before leaving you both alone.

"You remember," she replied, her eyes still on the dark horizon.

"Of course." You smiled, walking closer. "How could I not? Did it meet your expectations then, Your Grace?"

"It's not my first time riding a ship, although a lot has changed. The waves are somewhat smaller than I remember years ago. And the sunset has never been that red before."

You were now standing side by side with the Lioness, your hand on the railing, at least an inch away from where Cersei's hand was.

"It hasn't for a long time. People in Dorne believe that red skies are often associated with warnings or change. That whenever a sky is as red as blood, any decision you put forth on that day should be carefully done, unless you don't regard any bad omen coming your way."

She chuckled softly. "And what do you say to these beliefs?"

Cersei turned her head to look at you, expecting your reply, a glint in her eye.

Your eyes never left hers, travelling from her mouth back to her eyes. "I . . . I just think that it's such a beautiful occurrence to see. And I don't care about the consequences."

Cersei stopped smiling, understanding you weren't talking about any Dornish myths or beliefs anymore. Both of your fingers were barely brushing, distance diminishing each second. It would seem apparent that you two were leaning forward to each other.

Until Ellaria coughed behind you, stopping you both. "Supper is ready."

~~~

Being a Martell, you thought travelling by water would have made you immune against seasickness, but maybe it was the remnants of The Mountain's strength that had weaken you.

The trip to Dorne would take almost a week, and it only took three days before you started feeling nauseated. Going back and forth to the head just to eradicate the upset churning in your stomach had drained your energy. Ellaria had took mercy, bringing you a bucket to use beside you.

Cersei's presence was the only thing that made it bearable. You would join her at the dining cabin at night time, talking for hours that even Oberyn had almost fallen asleep on the table.

On the fifth night, you had excused yourself from dinner and surrendered to the confines of your cabin. Maybe it was the way the ship was swaying against the huge tides from the forecasted storm or the stale food you ate during breakfast. Either way, you had secluded yourself to recover.

The Queen Mother was having none of it though, knocking against your door some time later that night and bringing you a steaming hot bowl of soup.

"It's Venison," Cersei said, as she sat on the side of your bed. "I had our cook made it. Hot liquids can help calm an upset stomach. Tommen would always have them when he's sick."

"Thank you, Your Grace," you replied, straightening yourself as you leaned your back against the headboard of your bed. "You shouldn't have troubled yourself."

But instead of giving you the bowl, she insisted to feed you with a spoonful, leaning closer to you. With cheeks flushed from the act of endearment, you let the woman coddle you.

"You never come to me as someone who gets sick travelling by sea," she teased, a smile on her face.

"Well, I normally don't," you argued, making the Queen laugh.

"Quit being cocky and let yourself be taken care of."

One of the Dornish servants suddenly barged through the door, eyes wide upon seeing you not alone. There was a crate of supplies for your wound on her arms.

"Leave it," Cersei ordered, making the servant drop the crate unto a table nearby.

After you have finished the bowl, Cersei brought her hands to the hem of your tunic, attempting to pull it off you. Heart skipping a beat when you felt her fingers brush against your skin, you immediately stopped her, wrapping your hand around her wrist. "What are you doing?"

The Lannister woman smirked as she stood and walked away instead, taking the crate of supplies from the doorway. "I'm changing the dressing of your wound."

After a few moments of hesitation, you finally let Cersei get rid of your tunic. Her eyes softened upon the sight of her necklace's golden lion pendant on your chest and the bruised skin, now had gone purple close to healing.

She then began delicately cleaning the wound on your chest, her thumb purposefully brushing your nipple, every touch bringing you shivers. You swallowed, cheeks red as you attempted to move away from her.

"Stop moving," Cersei said, giggling.

"Stop teasing me then," you countered back.

After she had managed to change your dressing, you noticed a tent growing under your breeches. Everything seemed to freeze at that moment as you quickly took one of your pillows to hide it when Cersei was looking away.

Yet, there was nothing the Queen could miss as her curious eyes began wondering why there was a pillow on your lap. She sat back on the side of your bed, leaning forward and closer to your body.

Her sultry voice near your face made you harder than you were before, your cock straining painfully from the weight of the pillow. "Do you also need help with something else, My Lady?"

"Your Grace, I don't think—"

"Stop thinking," she whispered into your ear, her hand slipping inside your breeches and stroking your hardening cock. "Just breathe, Y/n. Let yourself go. Take pleasure in my hand."

Letting out an embarrassingly loud groan, you threw your head back against the headboard, eyes rolling deep into the back, hands clutching against the sheets on both sides.

Cersei's eyes darted towards your cock when she managed to pull it out from your breeches, twitching against her touch. It had never looked this painfully hard before, you thought you wouldn't last a second longer.

"You have a pretty cock, you know," she cooed, her lips nipping the skin on your jaw and neck. Her hand moved expertly, squeezing you tight as if milking you, and she did manage, her thumb tracing over the small cum leaking from your head then spreading it on your entire length.

"Cersei. . ."

The sound of your whimpers made Cersei turn to stare at you, observing your every reaction, with your eyes shut close and mouth agape. "You looked so prettier under my control."

"Cersei, I'm close. . ."

"Good," she said.

You opened your eyes to see what she meant, but what you saw only made you lose it. The Queen took the entire length of your cock into her mouth, bobbing her head up and down in a fast pace. The sight itself, the wetness and warmth from her mouth and the moan she let out when she took you made you explode right into her.

And she took it all, swallowing everything there was to milk. You cursed profanities into the silent night, grunting your release, releasing a lot more when she took you deeper.

It seemed like eternity when you had finally come down from your high, watching Cersei clean your shaft before licking the side of her lips from any residue. She then tucked your cock back into your breeches and leaned forward back to you.

"I would have hated wasting a single drop," she finished with a smug smile on her face.

I truly appreciate your continued support in reading my stories. You can help me create more stories by supporting my writing thru this link. Thank you so much ❤🥰

[o-sachi]

─── Sachi's Selfship Event ✦

Heya, here's my event for my 500 followers milestone. It's been fun writing my silly thoughts and sharing it on this blog. Thanks for all the support y'all have given me. But, as I've mentioned in my last post, I'll start writing on a different blog.

✦ The Event ───

Basically, you tell me about your selfship and I give you a set of headcanons based on the SFW alphabet (see content under the cut for the alphabet). For moots and followers that I recognize, I’ll do 10 letters. For everyone else, 8 letters. And for anons, 6 letters.

For fandoms, please keep it within Blue Lock, Wind Breaker, Mashle, and Kaiju no. 8!

✦ Instructions ───

Send me an ask containing the following: your chosen character, your chosen letters, your likes & dislikes, love languages (receiving and giving), hobbies, interests, basic description of your appearance, picrews, random facts, some of your own lore about your selfship, etc. —literally everything that can help me write a more accurate set of headcanons

* Since some people might not be comfortable sharing their info, I’ll keep the asks in my inbox and tag you on your post instead. But if you’re on anon, I have no choice but to answer the ask.

✦ Rules ───

1. Do not rush me with your request. If you’ve sent me an ask, I’ve definitely read it.

2. Only one selfship per person!

3. Do not include any nsfw information in the ask that you will send me.

Note: Depending on the amount of asks I get, I might not be able to fulfill all of them. Of course, moots and followers take priority!

Check under the cut for the letters you can choose from ~

These are just general descriptions for each letter, but based on the info you'll give me, I can delve into it deeper and provide stuff beyond what is written here.

A - Affection How do they show their affection for you? Do they get bouts of cuteness aggression?

B - Best Quality What they think is/are your best quality/ies and why

C - Comfort How do they comfort you when you're sad and down?

D - Dates What kind of dates do you two like to go on? How frequent?

E - Early Relationship How did you two get together? What was it like when you were just first starting out?

F - Fights What do you usually fight over? Do you quarrel often? How do things get resolved? Who says sorry first?

G - Gifts Their favorite gift that they got from you or a gift they've given to you. Do they like receiving gifts? If so, what kinds?

H - Hugs Are they a hugger? What kinds of hugs do they prefer? What about cuddling?

I - Intimacy What makes you feel connected at a deeper level? What kind of romance do you have?

J - Jealousy How jealous are they? How do they deal with it?

K - Kisses How do they kiss you? Do they like kissing?

L - Laughter What are your inside jokes? What do you usually laugh about together? Who's funnier?

M - Memories What is your most cherished memory together?

N - Nicknames Do they like nicknames? If so, what do they like to be called or what do they call you?

O - Other People What do other people think about your relationship? (Family, friends, co-workers, etc.)

P - Patience How patient are they? Who's the more patient one between the two of you? What happens if they lose their patience?

Q - Quirks What are some quirks you adopted from each other? Or what are the quirks that only come out when you're together?

R - Rituals What are some things in your routines that you like to do together? Is it common or unusual? How frequent is it? Is it a daily, weekly, or annual thing?

S - Support How do they show their support for your hobbies and interests? How involved are they?

T - Time Apart How do you spend your time apart? Who caves first? Who handles it better?

U - Uniqueness What sets you apart from other couples?

V - Values What are your shared values?

W - Wildcard Random headcanon about your relationship

X - XOXO What are the little things that they do for you? Do you notice them or maybe they go unnoticed?

Y - Yin & Yang How do you complement each other? How do you make them a better person? Or how do you make them happier? Are you two opposites or are you more similar to each other?

Z - Zrandom (sorry ran out of ideas, forgive me) Pick a theme or any topic and I'll make a headcanon for it :)

Again, for moots and followers that I recognize, I’ll do 10 letters. For everyone else, 8 letters. And for anons, 6 letters.

[fawnandshadows]

How You Get The Girl

The Final Chapter - Chapter 26

AO3 ~ Masterlist

warnings: none

Word Count: 6.3K

“I’ve been thinking.” Elain said, her hand flat on Azriel’s stomach. His ripped muscles contracting under her touch as Elain gently caressed his skin.  

“I love your creativity, Elain,” Azriel said in a deep, husky voice. “But I have to say you’ve tired me out, which I really didn’t think was possible.” His sleepy chuckle caused desire to run through Elain’s veins. 

There was something about Azriel’s sleepy voice that elicited the desire to do the dirtiest things to him. It was so dark and warm that it fell over her like a velvet blanket. 

A slow grin spread over Elain’s lips. 

They were making the most of their time alone together. Having sex in almost every room of the house, Elain found she was especially fond of the sun room with its natural light – casting Azriel’s beautiful body in a golden glow –  while Azriel preferred her sprawled out in front of the fireplace in the dancing light of the flames. They were trying to cram as much as they could into the days they had Rosehall just to themselves. Like two teenagers running around before the realities of the world separated them. 

In a few hours, Rhysand and Feyre would be joining them, arriving right before lunch and Elain had already planned the menu for the meal she’d make for everyone. Something light and refreshing and subliminally begged her sister to not be angry that she and Azriel hijacked their time at Rosehall – not that Feyre would be upset, but Elain still wanted to make the effort.

Azriel turned out to be a great partner to have in the kitchen, cleaning up her mess without ever having to be asked. And Elain loved giving him little samples of her food because every time she asked him how something tastes, Azriel would think about his answer. Turning the food over on his tongue before giving his honest feedback. It was just nice that he took her so seriously. He was thoughtful in every aspect of his life, but it made her melt to be the focus of his consideration. Azriel was thoughtful in a way that made her feel cherished – thoughtful in a way no one else had ever been to her.

Elain suppressed a giggle as she trailed her fingers closer to his hips where the white sheet was tangled. The urge to take a picture of Azriel in his afterglow all sprawled in messy and mused sheets nipped at her.

“That wasn’t what I was thinking about,” Elain admitted, but she pressed closer into his side as the ache between her thighs pulsed in delight. “But I’m glad you think I’m creative.” She smiled shyly at him. 

Everything with Azriel was different. She didn’t hide from him, and whenever she got an idea she shared it freely. The lingering insecurities would most likely always stay with her, at least for sometime, but with Azriel she knew she was safe from judgment or censure. 

Azriel shifted onto his side, propping one hand under his head to look down at her, a soft smile on his lips. Wild, inky, bedheaded strands fell over his forehead and into his hazel eyes. He reached forward and grasped her kee to pull one leg over his hips. 

“And you surprised me with your flexibility.” Azriel said into her neck, his lips moving over her pulsing veins. 

“Yoga is the only physical activity I like.” Elain breathed as Azriel’s warm lips met her skin. 

A small noise sounded from the back of Azriel’s throat. 

“The only physical activity?”

Elain could feel his smirk against her neck as she raked her fingers through his thick hair. 

“Ok, it’s my second favorite.” Elain said, grinding her hips into his and Azriel groaned at the movement. 

“I think it’s best if you just tell me what you’re thinking, beautiful.” Azriel said, pressing a kiss into her shoulder and brushing back her tangle of golden hair. He pulled back to look at her face, sensing that whatever she said was going to be important. 

“Well,” Elain started, taking a deep breath and pulling back slightly, delving further into the down pillow. “I already mentioned that I wanted to stop modeling,” Azriel nodded, watching her carefully to see where this was going. Encouraging her gently with his eyes. “And I’ve been writing more and more lately…I think I want to try to do it full time. Try and get something original published, you know? It could all blow up in my face, of course, we don’t even know if I can write original fiction, but I’d really like to try.” 

Azriel wrapped his fingers around hers. His thumb gently rubbed circles against her soft skin.

“I think that’s amazing, Elain,” Azriel said softly, taking in the hesitant joy on her face. He’d read her work and genuinely enjoyed it. Mor was the one that monitored her fanfiction account for security purposes, but he’d always found himself going back to see if she’d posted. “Your fics get a crazy amount of interactions. You’re incredibly talented. And I happen to know for a fact that you could write original fiction.”

“You do?” Elain asked, raising a slim brow. 

Azriel nodded and said, “When I read your work, it’s separate from the original source. The characters are familiar enough, but the way you create plots and wind everything together, it’s all you. And not to mention that your writing can stand on its own. You have talent, Elain.” 

Elain’s heart stopped in her chest and she took in his words. A rosy glow swirled through her.

“You’re only saying that because you got laid.” Elain mumbled, blushing as she squeezed his hand. 

“Hey,” Azriel said, his dark brows furrowed together, and he used his fingers to lift her chin up to meet his eyes. “Don’t do that. Don’t discredit your own talent.” 

A stinging pricked at her eyes and an overwhelming sense of luck made her feel like she was floating. 

“Thank you for saying that,” Elain whispered, her heart tying itself into a knot in her chest. She scooted even closer to him. “I’m grateful to have you in my life. I know my sisters love me, but I never really felt like I’ve someone in my corner like this before.” 

Azriel's eyes softened as he ran a comforting thumb over her delicate chin.

“I love you.” Azriel said huskily in a thick voice, his eyes bright and golden and full of emotion. 

“I love you too.” Elain said, leaning close to him and brushing her nose against his. 

“I love you more.” Azriel teased, pressing his lips against her. 

“Prove it.” 

— — — —

“Ah, fuck,” Azriel said, furiously sticking his foot through the leg of his jeans. Balancing on one leg as Elain rushed around the room as someone feverishly pounded on the front door. “Don’t they have a key?”

Elain slipped her purple sundress over her head, fluffing her hair and desperately trying to tame any flyaways. 

“How do I look?” Elain asked, her cheeks bright and pink and flushed. He wanted to take a bite of her.

“Like you just had the most intense orgasm of your life.” Azriel said, zipping his jeans and grabbing the wrinkled white t-shirt on the ground. 

Elain groaned and hid her face in her hands, her golden hair curtaining her arms. 

The knocking sped up another notch. 

“Who the fuck died?” Azriel said in a clipped tone, annoyed that his time with Elain ended this way. He stepped towards Elain and gently grasped her wrists to pull her hands away from her face. 

She gazed up at him with wide, vulnerable brown eyes. 

“You look beautiful, Elain.” Azriel said honestly, relieved that some of the tension had eased from her shoulders. 

She opened her mouth to speak, but the knocking sounded off again. 

“Fuck.” Azriel said, rolling his eyes before spinning on his feet and charging out of the room. 

“It’s just Feyre and Rhysand.” Elain said behind him. Her soft feet padded across the floor to keep up with him. “Probably.”

“Don’t they have a key?” Azriel asked, flying down the steps. 

“Yeah.” Elain said, her voice trailing off and Azriel knew she thought this was as odd as he did. 

Azriel whipped open the door to see a frenzied Feyre and Rhysand looking at them apologetically, a sleeping lump in Feyre’s arms known as Nyx snoozed heavily. 

“We’re really sorry about this,” Feyre said at the same time Rhysand said, “We tried to stop them.” 

Two more cars pulled into the long driveway, dirt and gravel kicking up into the air, and Elain felt her heart deflate in her chest. She recognized Cassian's car and registered that the long hair in the passenger's seat belonged to Nesta, but the other car could only belong to one other person. 

Elain bit back a groan as she saw her parents exit the car, both of them pinning Elain and Azriel with the weight of their stares. 

— — — — 

Azriel was the first one that liked her post. 

It made her smile even though she was tucked into his side, curled up on a loveseat in the corner of the room. Her parents were somewhere in the kitchen far, far away from the rest of the family, but Feyre and Rhysand were laying on the couch in front of the fireplace, and Nesta and Cassian were off doing something that Elain didn’t want to think about. Based on the heated looks that those two had been throwing each other's way, Elain had missed a lot in the one week she’d been away from the world. 

“You really do have a talent. '' Elain whispered to Azriel, looking at the pictures she just posted and ignoring the steady flow of incoming notifications. The first was the one that he had taken of her in the garden on the day he helped her move — she never even saw him there, but he saw her. He had always seen her. And then she swiped to the second picture, the one that was leaked. She debated whether or not to post it, and after talking through it with Azriel, she knew she had to. Elain loved the picture that Azriel had taken and she wanted to reclaim it. Own it. She wanted to show off her boyfriend’s talent, and she wouldn’t let something so lovely be tainted. And the third and final picture. The one of her second tattoo, the tiny heart on her ribcage that Azriel had inked on her while they were at Rosehall…. Azriel and Elain were standing in front of a mirror and while Azriel was wearing a tight, black t-shirt, Elain was only wearing a pink, floral, flouncy skirt…and Azriel’s hands. His hands were big enough to hold all of her breasts, and Elain had made sure to crop the picture into a close up, so that only their forms in the mirror could be seen and nothing else in the room around them. 

A high-pitched squeal sound from the couch and Elain couldn’t help the excited smile that spread across her lips. Butterflies were working overtime in her stomach. 

Feyre’s head popped up from the couch in a way that reminded Elain of the Whac-A-Mole game. Her golden brown hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun and her blue eyes were bright and alert as she took in her sister curled into Azriel’s side - Feyre’s smile took over half her face. Rhysand slowly appeared behind Feyre, his face not nearly as lit up as Feyre’s, but he gazed at her in soft adoration.

The white light of her phone illuminated her face as Feyre read in delight, “‘LOVE OF MY LIFE?’ ‘MY BOYFRIEND IS TALENTED?’” Feyre threw her head back in a cackle and kicked the arm of the sofa in excitement. “Why don’t you just tell the haters to f off?” Rhysand pressed his lips into Feyre’s hair, hiding his smile over her enjoyment. “Hard launching your hot boyfriend while showing off how talented he is? I have to share it.” 

Elain’s phone buzzed with a notification as Feyre liked, commented, and shared the post to her story. She knew if she clicked on Feyre’s post she’d see a slew of hearts and fanfare. 

“Hot?” Rhysand said, his brows knitted together and his violet eyes fixed Azriel with a glare. Azriel just shrugged at him, but Elain got the feeling he was smirking. 

Heavy footsteps thudded down the stairs with muffled voices speaking over each other. 

“You bitch!” Nesta exclaimed, skidding into the room wearing Cassian’s boxers and t-shirt and somehow making it look fashionable. Cassian stood behind her in only gray sweatpants with a giant smirk on his face, both of their hair needed brushing. “You hard launched Azriel and didn’t tell me. Ugh, I would have tagged all those nasty bitches that called you a whore.” 

“Nesta!” Elain shouted, hiding her face in Azriel’s chest, his strong arms wrapping around her, but his body shook as he laughed at Nesta’s words. 

“Fuck, you guys look good,” Nesta said, zooming in on a picture. “Azriel showing off his eight pack looks hot as hell, and while also showing off his hand size? Flaunting your hot boyfriend is just the start of your revenge,” Nesta held up her hand palm-side out. “I’m not about Azriel accidentally leaking a dick pic, just so everyone can see how good you’re getting it.” 

“Hot?” Cassian said, drawing back in outrage as Elain tossed a pillow at her sister.

“Dick pic?” Elain said, lifting her head from Azriel’s chest and staring at her sister. 

“Well, yeah,” Nesta said, looking up from her phone and placing a hand on her hip. “People have been slut shaming you online for weeks now, and showing off how hot Azriel is just the beginning. We need a full blown plan of attack.” 

“Hot?” Cassian said again, even louder than before. 

“Yeah,” Feyre said, nodding and looking back and forth between Cassian and Rhysand. “It’s about time you guys learned that Azriel is very, very good looking.” 

Azriel chortled into Elain’s hair. He whispered into Elain’s ear, so no one else could hear him, “Make sure Nesta never goes on my phone.” A shiver raked through her body, but she playfully elbowed him. 

“I feel the need to point out that I agree,” Elain said, raising her hand and smiling brightly. “I’m going to love showing you off.” She looked over her shoulder to Azriel who was gazing at her with a smile on his lips and a blush on his cheeks. 

Cassian sighed with his entire being. 

“We know that Azriel is hot.” Rhysand said, causing Azriel to groan and hide his face in Elain’s hair. 

“We were just hoping that you two,” Cassian continued, his index finger moving back and forth  between Nesta and Feyre. “Didn’t notice.” 

Rhysand nodded his head in agreement. 

Heavy, less excited footsteps hurried down the hall and Elain felt some of the joy she was feeling dim out a bit. She steeled herself as her parents entered the doorway, her father carrying Nyx on his hip. 

“Mama!” Nyx called out, his hands outstretched and making grabbing motions towards Feyre on the couch. 

Her father slowly walked across the wooden floor, his expression neutral and he handed his grandson to his daughter. 

Her mother’s manicured hands lifted to her hips and her eyes narrowed into slits. 

“Are you pregnant?” She asked in a cold, detached voice. 

Elain’s body froze and she couldn’t stop the “No?” that eeked out of her. 

“You’re not sure?” Her mother asked and Elain felt about two feet tall. 

“Of course I’m sure,” Elain asked, steadying her voice as Azriel’s hands tightened on her body in comfort. “I’m just surprised that you asked,” Elain paused for a second, and her irritation took over as she continued. “Azriel and I use condoms.” 

“Yeah,” Nesta snorted. “Just look in the bathroom trash.” 

Elain’s face burned, but Cassian quietly scolded her so Elain didn’t have to. 

“So glad our family lake house was the perfect place for your sexcapades,” Her mother stated calmly through narrowed eyes, causing Elain to cringe and fight off the humiliation that was itching underneath the surface of her skin. “I —”

Azriel’s body tensed behind hers, and Elain dug her nails into his arm to keep him at bay. 

“Ew,” Feyre cried, covering Nyx’s ears. “Mom, can you please not say that?” 

“Well, your sister is the one who made our home into a den of iniquity, so I hardly I think —” 

“Helena,” Elain’s father cut her off in a stern voice. A voice that Elain knew he tossed around during his business meetings, but she could count on one hand the amount of times she heard it used on family members. “Could you please retract your claws and stop attacking our daughter.” 

Elain felt her jaw drop. 

Her mother’s shoulders snapped back at the words and she fixed her cool gaze on her husband. 

“Richard,” She hissed. “Your little girl has been shacking up,” Her mother gave an exaggerated shiver. “In our family house, and you’re defending her? I mean,” She held out a hand towards where Elain and Azriel were curled together on the couch. “Look at the man she has chosen to tie herself to. We were supposed to be planning her marriage to Graysen by now.” 

“I have seen him,” Her father said, his blue eyes flashing towards where the loveseat and Elain leaned deeper into Azriel��s warm embrace. “And I’ve seen the way he’s protected her despite all the trouble it’s caused both of them, and I’ve more than seen and understood the reason that Feyre is alive because of him,” Azriel’s body tensed around her and a pall cutrained the room at her father’s words. “So, if Elain wants to spend her life with him, then we sure as fuck aren’t getting in the way.” 

Her mother pursed her lips and leveled her father with a cool glare. 

“If you say so, darling,” Elain’s mother said coldly, undoubtedly embarrassed to have been spoken to like that in front of an audience. “I know that’s what we agreed to before we came here,” Helena struck back her shoulders into perfect position, and Elain felt floored at the revelation. That her parents had not only spoken about her choices, but apparently accepted who she chose to spend her life with. It didn’t surprise Elain that her father had an easier time accepting Azriel than her mother did. “I apologize.” She jerked her head at Elain and Azriel. 

“Thanks.” Elain said, feeling oddly removed from her body. She felt Azriel nod behind her. 

“And we also wanted to let everyone know that dinner is ready,” Her father said, outstretching an arm to lead to the large doorway behind him. “Please dress accordingly.” He looked sternly at Nesta, who begrudgingly nodded her head and left the room with Cassian hot on her heels. 

“Nyxie needs his dinner as well.” Helena said, her voice infinitely more soft when talking about her grandchild. Even though her mother wouldn’t have been happy if she was pregnant, Elain thought, she knew her child would be doted on by her parents.  

“You got an empty belly, buddy?” Ferye asked Nyx, her fingers dancing over his rounded tummy, causing his little feet to start kicking. 

Feyre and Rhysand quickly left for the kitchen, Helena following behind them. 

Elain slowly stood from her spot on the loveseat and she knew that Azriel echoed her movements. She moved across the floor and wrapped her arms around her father’s tired form. 

“Thanks Daddy.” She whispered as she squeezed him tightly. Emotion flooding through her in a way that nearly knocked her over. Overwhelming relief that almost brought her to tears. 

She knew that there were battles that she and Azriel would have to fight down the line, but knowing this wasn’t one of them made her feel like she was standing in sunshine. 

Her father awkwardly patted her on the back, slightly unsure of how to react. 

“I just want you to be happy.” He said softly. Elain tightened her eyes shut and pulled him in closer before taking a step away and giving her father a watery smile. 

“I am happy.” She said, reaching back to clasp Azriel’s left hand. 

Her father gave a firm nod of his head before sticking out his hand to Azriel. 

“I can’t remember if I ever properly thanked you for what you did for Feyre,” Richard said, his voice thick with emotion but somehow still stern. Azriel placed his hand in the open hand. “I know you’ll protect Elain.”

“With my life.” 

“Hey,” Elain elbowed Azriel in the ribs. “That won’t be necessary.” 

Azriel dropped her fathers hand before wrapping Elain in his arms and kissing the top of her head.   

Sensing a private moment, Elain’s father quietly slipped out of the room. 

Elain turned in Azriel’s strong arms and pressed a kiss to the underside of his sharp jaw. 

“It’s the truth,” Azriel said, pressing another kiss into her soft hair. The smell of honey and jasmine lulling his senses. “If something was to happen to you…I’d make sure it’d happen to me first.” His voice was so quietly, deadly serious that Elain’s heart dropped to her feet. 

“Just know that it would go both ways.” She said, looking up at him, her stare unwavering. 

“Elain, I’m not worth—”

“Yes,” She said, firmly cutting him off and not-so-gently clasping his chin in between her fingers so that he couldn’t look away. “You’re worth it to me. To your mother. To Rhysand and Cassian. Feyre and Nesta. And Nyx. So, I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re not as expendable as you think you are.” 

Azriel’s eyes were bright as they narrowed at her, and Elain knew that there were ghosts in his brain knocking around his own insecurities, but she wouldn’t let them win. 

She raised herself to her tiptoes and pulled him into a light kiss. They’re lips softly brushing against each other in tenderness. 

“So it’s decided,” Azriel said against her mouth. “We’re both staying alive.” He gave her a slow, languid kiss that made her toes curl. 

With his forehead resting against hers and their lips barely touching in what was the barest hint of a kiss, Elain had never felt more at peace. For the first time she was truly looking forward to what was coming next. Knowing that no matter what, she’d have Azriel by her side. Her rock when life got so tumultuous she felt like she was drifting. Her comforting shoulder when she’s was so full of emotions that they’re spelling out from her. Her source of sunshine on days she felt the darkest. 

His large hands laid flat against the curve of her hips. Squeezing her gently as Cassian and Nesta passed by them, both appropriately dressed for family dinner. Cassian shot them a wolf whistle, and Nesta didn’t even scold him, she just looked at her sister with a knowing glint in her eye. 

“I’m telling them tonight,” Elain said in a low voice, peering up as Azriel brushed a strand of golden hair behind her ear. “That I want to pursue writing full time,” Azriel’s dark eyebrows shot up his forehead in an unasked question. “I don’t want to hide anymore,” She said, feeling light and free. “Plus it will make for good dinner conversation.” 

— — — — —

ONE WEEK LATER 

“How does this taste?” Elain asked, holding a wooden spoon out to Azriel. Her free hand held palm up to catch any dripping red sauce. 

His warm hand wrapped firmly around her wrist, steadying her as he brought the spoon towards his lips. 

Azriel’s handsome face was a study in concentration. Dark brows pulled together in a knot between sharp, clear eyes. While Azriel was giving the sauce his full consideration, Elain was giving Azriel the same in return. 

He looked even more handsome than usual in a crisp white button down shirt that looked delightful against his tanned brown skin, and if Elain looked really closely she could see the outline of Azriel’s abs. His black pants fit snugly over his butt that Elain couldn’t help but pinch it whenever he walked by. His sleeves were rolled up to show off some of the tattoos that were inked into his forearms, which combined with his ear piercings made the most delicious combination of formal and rebellious. 

When they were at Rosehall Azriel had left the majority of his jewelry at home, so when they had gotten back Azriel had started playing with his piercings again. Elain was happy to see her favorite little paperclip back in place. 

His pink tongue ran across his lips as he pulled away from the spoon. 

“Perfect,” Azriel said, nodding in approval. “It tastes just like how Ma makes it. She’s going to love it.” He wrapped his arms around her small frame as she turned back to the stove, stirring the sauce. 

“You’re sure? You aren’t just saying that to make me feel better? You can tell me if something is off, I want it to be perfect for your mom.” Elain said, not bothering to hide the worry in her voice. 

Her golden hair was piled messily on top of her head – she was not going to risk feeding Azriel’s mom one of her hairs, she even thought about using a hairnet, but vanity won out on that one – and her pink floral apron did a beautiful job of keeping her dress clean. She wore a cobalt blue dress made of crushed velvet that stopped mid thigh and garnished her shoulder with little sheer cap sleeves. 

“She’s going to be impressed.” Azriel said, his voice more than assuring Elain of his honesty. She relaxed enough to melt into his embrace. 

The timer for the garlic bread dinged as the doorbell rang out. 

Elain was already halfway across the room as she said, “You get the bread and I’ll get the door!” She tossed her apron on the hook and removed the slip from her hair, not wanting his mother to see how messy she got when cooking. 

Elain swiftly opened the door to find Paloma, Azriel’s mother on the opposite side, wearing a wide smile and carrying a canvas tote full of ingredients to make tiramisu. Her silver-streaked black hair fell in wild curls around her shoulders and Elain would have bet that if straightened her hair would fall well below her hips. 

“You look lovely, Paloma!” Elain greeted and opened her arms to take the tote, but Paloma pulled her in for a hug instead. Her fingers were heavily adorned with silver rings that Elain could feel their coolness through her dress. 

“You’re beautiful, as always Elain,” Paloma said before pulling away and spotting her son walking across the floor towards them. “You both have that glow that only young love can bring,” She pressed a kiss on Azriel’s cheek as he leaned down to greet his mother – Elain noticed his cheeks had turned a charming shade of pink. “I have a feeling you’ll be asking for your grandmother's ring in no time.” She poked him in his pec and Azriel’s cheek flamed brighter. 

— — — — — 

ONE MONTH LATER

“Elain?” Azriel called out, stepping into the dark and quiet apartment, his eyes searching for his girlfriend. His arms loaded down with plastic bags full of Chinese takeout. 

They were the only two in the apartment. Feyre was still deep into her training, so much so that she barely remembered to speak with anyone that wasn’t in her immediate vicinity. Whenever she got hyper focused on training, there wasn’t much room for anything else. Rhysand and Nyx were with her, supporting her and keeping her grounded, and Rhysand could never truly remove himself from his responsibilities – he cared too much, far more than he ever actually let on, so whenever he called or texted Azriel for updates, Azriel would manage to do the same in return. Soon after they hung up Rhysand would send out a picture of Nyx to the group chat, or let everyone know how Feyre was progressing. Feyre got the same when she was painting, but she didn’t have to seek the solitude of Rosehall for that, so it was easier for Elain to check in on her. 

Nesta had been staying with Cassian, in the same building, so it wasn’t uncommon to run into each other. And Nesta would pop up in the apartment from time to time, but their relationship was still budding and Elain and Azriel were both heartened by how seriously they were working on their relationship. Azriel had never questioned how well Nesta and Cassian would fit together, how much good they would do for eachother, but they ran so hotblooded and passionate around each other that he feared one spark could blow the entire thing up. They had different challenges to face than him and Elain. 

They had a double date planned with Nesta and Cassian later that week — Azriel had finally convinced Elain that she didn’t have to work on the weekends as well. 

She was so deep into her writing that she was shut inside for most of the day, leaving her computer to prepare food, (something quick and easy, Azriel had to remind her that pop tarts weren’t true meals) go to the bathroom, or sleep. Elain had tried writing at a coffee shop or library just to get out of the house, but both times paparazzi had swarmed her within the hour. If she needed a change of scenery, Paloma was happy to offer her little courtyard to Elain, cutting off access to the public when need be for “maintenance”. 

Azriel had asked for the ring, a simple band of gold adorned with a beautiful emerald, an elegant, classic beauty just like Elain, but it was tucked safely in his sock drawer. 

Logically, Azriel knew there wasn’t a perfect time, but there was a right time and it wasn’t now.  

Elain was so focused on her new career and he wanted to support her, not add any stress of planning a wedding or another new decision that would alter their lives. Because it would be different, being married wasn’t the same as dating. They would be married, eventually, but he wanted to enjoy every stage of their relationship. He didn’t want to skip ahead. 

“Azriel?” Elain called out, her voice speaking of her sleepiness. 

He flickered on the lights and Elain poked her head out of their bedroom doorway. She must have been writing in bed. 

Elain rubbed at her eye with a small fist as she walked towards this, greeting him with a gentle kiss and taking one of the bags from him. 

“You didn’t have to get dinner,” Elain said, placing the bag on the counter before pulling plates out of the cabinet. “We still have leftovers, I think, or I could have made us a salad.” 

“You were working all day, Elain,” Azriel said, wrapping his arms around her and she fixed them plates. Elain wasn’t getting paid to write, and she had a tendency to downplay her achievements, but Azriel wouldn’t let her. “And I wanted to treat my girlfriend to one of her favorites. I even got you extra egg rolls and more than enough to carry us through til the weekend.” 

“I love you,” Elain sighed before placing a kiss on the underside of his jaw. “I haven’t been neglecting you, have I?” She asked, dunking an egg roll in duck sauce before bringing it up to his lips. 

Azriel bit down in a crunch. 

“Of course not,” Azriel said, swallowing and squeezing his hold on Elain. “Just because you're focusing on yourself doesn’t mean you’re neglecting anyone else,” Elain nodded to herself, as if needing to hear the words and took a small bite of the egg roll. There was something about sharing food with Elain that always made him feel warm and doughy inside. “Now, do you want to watch a movie, or are you sick of looking at a screen.” 

Elain nodded her head and said, “Something mindless, please.” 

They fell into a routine. Elain spending her days writing while Azriel floated to whoever needed a bodyguard that day, and then they would alway pass their nights together. Either curled up on the couch or in bed together. Occasionally breaking their routine for a night out with their friends. 

“Azriel,” Elain called out and her voice shook him. It was the most scared she’d sounded in a long time. He hurried out of the bathroom in only his boxers with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. 

“Babe?” Azriel asked, pulling his toothbrush out of his mouth. 

Elain was standing in front of her mirror wearing a bra – Azriel tried not to ogle how her full breasts were pushing out of their cups – and unbuttoned jeans. Her cheeks were twinged with paleness that spoke of her worry as her fretful brown eyes met his in the mirror. 

“What’s wrong?” Azriel asked, not seeing her in any pain and not seeing a spider he needed to kill. He vaguely wondered if something had been leaked again, but they had been careful and security ramped up their efforts. 

“My jeans won’t button.” Elain stated and her bottom lip quivered a bit and she stared at him, waiting for his response. 

Azriel knew he had to tread carefully, with her past and her relationship with food Azriel didn’t want to accidentally say the wrong thing. He’d love Elain no matter what her body looked like, and he had always appreciated the wide curve of her hips and the plushness of her body. Feyre and Nesta had leaner bodies, easier to tone and more geared towards athleticism, but during her modeling days (and due to her mother’s influence) Elain had forced her body to survive on the fewest calories possible. Now that she had stopped modeling and improved her relationship with food, her body had changed. 

He wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand, not wanting to have toothpaste on his face for this conversation. 

“It’s just,” Elain surprised him by speaking again. “What if my writing career doesn’t work out?” Her voice was low and uneven. “And I have to go back to modeling? I don’t … It wasn’t healthy for me.” 

“Hey,” Azriel said, pulling her into his body and carefully holding his toothbrush away from her body. “You don’t have to model again. Ever,” He said gently into her ear, rubbing a comforting hand up and down her arm. “And if your writing career doesn’t take off, which it will,” He emphasized and kissed her bare shoulder. “Then you can try again. Whatever you want, I’ll be here for you.” He pressed a kiss to her collar bone and felt her shiver under his touch. 

“And you…think I look ok?” Elain asked, her voice breathless. 

Azriel pressed a kiss to the top part of her breast which was overspilling from its cup in a way that taunted him. 

“You’ll never be anything but beautiful to me, Elain,” Azriel whispered against her skin, his voice full with arousal. “And after we get back from dinner I’ll show you exactly how much I love your body,” He pressed a warm, open mouth kiss over the skin of her breast and sucked until a wet, purple mark appeared. He heard Elain swallow as he picked up his head. “But we can’t keep Nesta and Cassian waiting. Maybe we can go shopping this weekend if you’d like, and I can always help you work out, if you’re interested.” 

Elain nodded her head and smiled at him. 

“I’d like that,” She said and kissed his cheek, her face bright and flushed. “Another way for us to spend time together.” 

— — — — — 

ONE YEAR LATER 

Bright lights were shining down on Elain, but she refused to let them blind her. 

After a year, she had finally agreed to be on the show again with one stipulation. 

A name change. 

It was no longer The Archer, The Valkyrie, and The Face, but simply The Archerons. Something that Feyre and Nesta had easily agreed to, in fact they had even stood behind her and said they wouldn’t film unless production had agreed to change the name. And with Feyre set to return  soon to the Olympics, they couldn’t risk not filming.  

There was so much for her to say, Elain thought, staring down the camera. For once, she wasn’t filled with dread, but rather excitement to talk about her own life on her own terms. In the past year, she had posted on social media so sparingly that she had somehow gained followers, and what she did post gained so much traction and buzz that she somehow accumulated more fame and attention. 

Her book was one month away from being published. A fear so new and so different from what she had experienced before grew with each passing day. Elain was so proud of herself and scared to hear what the public thought about her work, but she was already well into her second novel. Another romance. Lucky for her, she thought as her mind drifted to Azriel who was standing somewhere behind the bright lights, she had a never ending source of inspiration. 

A sense of pride and accomplishment grew within her and she gained a confidence that she hadn’t had before. 

Yes, Elain thought, crossing her legs and cupping her hands over her knee, she was ready to speak. 

“Action!” 

~~~~~~~~~~

AN: Ok, I have never felt this bittersweet before. I have tears in my eyes and like the biggest smile on my face! It took me way longer than I thought to get to this moment, but this ending feels so perfect to me and I'm so glad I didn't rush to finish How You Get The Girl. Thank you so much to everyone who even read one chapter of this story and I'm sending the biggest, bestest hugs to anyone who has read through to the end <333333.

tagging: @123moiaussi @fuckmelifesucks @thefangirlofhp @sakurakittypeach @nikethestatue @tswaney17 @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @feyredarlinq @duskwhisperer @nyxreads @rinadragomir @secretpuppyflower @captainbrucebanner @ultadverb @irisesforelain @shedoessoshedoes  @magnolia-blossom87 @sheenabeene @nivem565  @casuallivi @rhysiedarling @elain99-blog @athena-85 @swankii-art-teacher @reverie-tales @jujugirlfrombookstore @shadowflorecita @shy-violet-soul @thisloveseternal

[theladyofbloodshed]

You're The Closest To Heaven I'll Ever Be - Chapter 31

Long time no update, sorry

‘You are my mate,’ Nesta said, holding his gaze. Azriel could sense the need to bolt in her. To make this declaration with an audience demanded so much from her, but Azriel held her there. ‘Mine. Only mine. And,’ she gave herself a moment to breathe, ‘I love you.’

Shadows swooped around them like a maelstrom. They engulfed the pair of them without his command. Azriel lifted Nesta’s chin to kiss her again.

When the shadows dropped away, Thesan cleared his throat.

‘I have mended the gravest injuries, but Illyrians' wings are wholly different to that of the Peregryn. It is beyond my capabilities.’

‘We’ll have Madja sent for,’ said Cassian. He gave a nod then departed, a hand pressed to his abdomen where his own wounds still healed.

Azriel’s wings stung but that announcement from Nesta had given him the strength to stand upright again. In the corner of his vision, he could see Mor staring daggers at them; her arms were folded, the mortal girl, Briar, forgotten in her anger.

‘Be with your sisters and take a rest,’ he said, touching Nesta’s face. ‘When Madja arrives, I’ll find you.’

Nesta gave a reluctant nod before departing too. He watched the sway of her hips as she left, glad she was his.

Over his shoulder, Azriel gave a slight nod to Mor then thanked Thesan for his attempts. His steps were heavy and awkward due to the injuries on his wings. Each movement stretched the tendons so he could feel every single one aching. He gritted his teeth and moved on towards a quiet corner of the camp. The grey sky promised rain – this close to the Winter Court, the temperatures would plummet too.

Mor stopped a few paces from him, her face hard.

‘She’s your mate.’

‘Yes.’

Why did he owe her this conversation? A five-hundred-year commitment that only he upheld had been sliced with a knife effortlessly once Nesta came into his life. Nothing was left hanging; no threads remained that he wanted to cling to. Whatever he’d felt for Mor paled now. It had never been reciprocated besides so he couldn’t understand why she stood so terse and sullen.

‘You didn’t tell me,’ she stated.

‘You didn’t need to know.’

Her nostrils flared. ‘I’m your friend.’

‘Nesta is my mate and she needed time to process it. I haven’t spoken of it to anybody.’

‘Cassian knew.’

‘Because Cassian figured it out, Mor. Why are you angry with me?’

‘You didn’t tell me,’ Mor repeated, as if saying it twice would wound him.

‘Because Nesta has been my priority.’

She gave a hollow laugh. ‘And that’s it? You’ll just forget about what she did to Feyre?’

‘If you can’t speak of her with kindness then don’t mention her name at all,’ Azriel warned. When it came to his mate, he didn’t care how long he’d known Mor for. ‘You could at least try to be happy for me. You know what it means to me to have a mate. You, of all people, know how long I have been waiting for love.’

The words hit her just as he’d intended them to, but Azriel didn’t linger to hear her reply. As he wended his way through the village of tents that had been erected, he spotted Cassian – larger than any – beckoning him to signal that Madja had arrived.

‘Will you find Nesta for me?’

‘Sure,’ said Cassian, not hiding his grin. ‘Out in the open now. Madja’s in my tent. Make yourself at home.’

In true Cassian style, the tent was untidy. He preferred his belongings in disarray so he could find things easier. Azriel and Rhys had tried over the years to keep their brother orderly, but had never succeeded.

‘If it isn’t him, it’s you,’ said Madja by way of a greeting. ‘It will be slow. And painful.’

‘Thank you for the warning,’ he said, moving to a supine position on the bed.

When the tent flap rustled, Azriel didn’t need to look to know who’d arrived. He could feel their bond practically glowing as Nesta neared. She went to her knees beside him without a hint of recognition for Madja. Her fingers brushed through his thick hair.

‘I’ll be with you.’

Through the hour or so that Madja worked, Nesta remained true to her word. Her only movement came from the tender stroke of her fingers against his face. The Mother had blessed him with her for a reason that he didn’t know. All Azriel knew was that he did not deserve Nesta – but he was glad to have her.

‘You need to rest, Shadowsinger. I know that isn’t an easy task for you,’ Madja scolded. ‘No flight. I do not want you to raise your arms above your head or lean over. Limit the range of movement at your core.’ She shook her head, apparently already expecting him to disobey her commands. ‘They will heal – but you must allow them to. Cassian followed my advice to the letter and his wings were in far worse shape.’

Azriel held his tongue rather than pass comment that orders were Cassian’s currency. He nodded once then Madja gave a look of reproach before departing.

They were summoned to Rhysand’s larger tent where the high lords had gathered alongside a handful of Illyrian camp lords. Azriel listened to the conversation about their strategy to face Hybern, offering little. The next battle would be sooner rather than later – and Hybern would strike hard. He’d hit the mortal lands. With the Wall down and the Spring Court weakened, he’d sweep through and slaughter mortals as he pleased.

Azriel leaned forwards on his stool, unable to keep his wings upright with his aching muscles. Then a weight lifted from his back, the burning pain subsiding. Cold hands delicately held the bulk of his wings to alleviate the strain on his muscles. Nesta offered a muted smile to him as he glanced over his shoulder at her while the conversation continued. That touch had Azriel struggling to concentrate on one of the most important discussions of his life. How was he supposed to focus when his mate was touching his wings in public? There was nothing innately sexual in the gesture and yet Azriel couldn’t stop himself from imagining Nesta’s hands running against the tendons that attached to the bone. How silken her touch would be against the sensitive membrane. The fact she’d even noticed him struggling and been willing to help was another beast in itself. His thoughts were muddled. Tiredness and lust chasing away sense as he tried to focus on Feyre’s words.

‘Then we go tonight,’ said Feyre. ‘Anybody who can winnow will move the humans from Hybern’s path. We have to save as many as we can.’

He sat forwards on the stool to try and focus on the conversation and ignore the feel of Nesta’s hands against his wings.

Helion scoffed at her words. ‘We will be exhausted then Hybern's path is clearer.’

‘We’ll need all the strength we have to fight,’ added Kallias. His words were careful. ‘We can't waste it on winnowing humans.’

He felt Nesta’s hands grip tighter on his wings so he forced down a yelp.

‘It is no waste,’ countered Feyre. ‘One life may change the world. Where would you all be if someone had deemed saving my life to be a waste of time?’ She pointed to Rhys. ‘If he had deemed saving my life Under the Mountain a waste of time? Even if it’s only twenty families, or ten… They are not a waste. Not to me – or to you.’

They broke off from their discussions to set into action. Nesta remained near him as the other high lords peeled off to their own tents to dole out orders. When Feyre and Amren beckoned Nesta to them, she frowned then touched his neck before departing.

‘Az,’ Rhys said, glancing to his bandaged back. ‘You need to sit this one out.’

He clenched his teeth together, biting back the instinctual need to lash out. He breathed slowly. ‘I can winnow. You need me.’

Rhys touched a hand to his chest. ‘What I need is for you to rest. Take tonight to rest and we’ll see about tomorrow.’

He got to his feet, aching wings be damned, to draw himself to his full height and look down at his brother. ‘We’ll see about tomorrow? I’m fighting tomorrow, Rhys, and that’s it.’

‘You can’t fly.’

‘I’ll decide what I can’t do.’

The few who remained in the tent talking – Kallias and Thesan among them – cast looks in their direction. Rhys lowered his voice and leaned in close. ‘I am trying to keep you alive. You are already injured. If you can’t fly then you’re at a disadvantage in the legion.’

‘I’m stronger than all of those soldiers. You need me.’

‘Alive,’ Rhys emphasised. ‘I need you alive – and so does Nesta.’ He shook his head. ‘This isn’t up for discussion. You’re staying here tonight to rest. Most males would kill for a final night with their mate because not all of us will be here to see the sun set tomorrow.’

A foul mood fell as heavy as a cloud as the others winnowed away while Azriel remained in the camp like a scolded child. He hated to feel useless. He was forbidden from helping today. If he couldn’t fight tomorrow, what was the fucking point in any of it? He was a shadow singer. He was the only one in known existence at that time. Azriel could be the one to tip the scale - but Rhys had relegated him to minding the camp like a nursemaid.

‘You haven’t eaten,’ came Nesta’s voice.

The look she gave him was no less intense than usual. She saw all of him. From the deep-rooted need to prove himself useful to the churning emotions that he’d been left behind.

She led him by the hand to where food was distributed to members of any court. They had all quickly learnt that the Winter Court had the blandest food to offer but the Day Court’s was rich with overlaid spices.

‘I find I have a taste for spicy food,’ she said, handing a bowl to him and taking one for herself. ‘Elain has eaten, but perhaps we could sit with her.’

Azriel didn’t want to force his bad mood on any, but Nesta gripped his hand fiercely like he would float away at any moment. The tent was warm and Elain still dozed as she was prone to do. Blankets were tucked around her slumbering form and Nesta seated herself near her sister like a watchful guardian.

They ate in silence. Only the scraping of their wooden spoons against the bottom of the bowl interrupted it.

‘I’ll return these,’ he said, standing swiftly.

‘You will come back, won’t you?’ Nesta pinned him with a stare like she saw right through him. Knew that he’d planned to winnow to the mortal lands and damn Rhys’ orders. She stood, a hand reaching for his face, and caressed it. ‘I need you to live, Azriel.’

***

Silence washed through the tent as the day dribbled away into night. Azriel lay with his head in her lap, refusing to give into sleep. Only her cajoling him had meant that he took the vial of pain relief that Madja had left for him. It seemed her mate was a masochist.

Over and over, Nesta thought about what the dawn would bring. They would seek out the Cauldron – her, Elain, Feyre, and Amren. It meant they would need to draw out Hybern’s armies to lead the bulk away from the Cauldron. Feyre and Amren believed in the plan. Believed that the king might leave his prized possession under the watchful eyes of his soldiers and take to the field. No, he wouldn’t. Nesta knew it in her heart that he would not – unless the right bait was offered. She would die tomorrow. If it meant that her sisters lived then it was a price she needed to pay.

‘Azriel,’ she whispered, stroking her mate’s hair. It was softer than she expected it to be – far softer than her own. When he murmured in response, she leaned forwards to kiss his temple. How had she denied herself these comforts for so long? It was easy to be with him like this. To kiss. To hold. ‘May we go to your tent?’

With Varian remaining to keep a watchful eye on Elain, Nesta led Azriel by the hand to his tent. She moved to the brazier, lighting it quickly so that he didn’t need to be near fire, then led him towards the bed. Before she could lose her conviction, Nesta removed his clothing. Her own was shed just as hurriedly so that she was naked. Azriel, it seemed, did not know where to cast his eyes. He looked at all of her then none of her, his hazel eyes shooting up towards the sloping roof of the tent.

‘Look at me,’ she murmured, grazing her knuckles along his cheek. ‘I would like it if you looked at me.’

Azriel forced his head downwards as if it went against every moral that he’d been holding onto tightly. She held herself still as his eyes swept over her bare skin.

A hand curved over her hip and drew her closer.

Nesta tipped up her head to kiss her mate. It was gentle, but Nesta did not want caution that night. She would die in the morning. If they only had one night together, she wanted all of him. All of her mate.

As they kissed, Nesta guided him backwards towards the low-slung camp bed that she prayed would hold both of their weight.

‘We must be careful with your wings,’ she whispered between kisses.

With a strain, Azriel pulled himself away from her lips. There was a flush to his cheeks that she had never seen before – and wished she could see every day. In that moment, the shadowsinger appeared so vulnerable like he would bare his heart to her if she asked.

‘We don’t have to do this. Don’t feel forced.’

‘Who said?’ Nesta challenged, touching the tip of her nose to his. ‘Who is forcing me? For months, you have been there to steady me through every storm. Tomorrow, we face our greatest test.’ To call it a test seemed too trivial. But Nesta couldn’t call it a war. Couldn’t ground it into reality that way. ‘Maybe we only have one more sunrise. I want to spend tonight with my mate in case we…’

A knot grew in her throat, making it difficult to speak. The idea of losing Azriel after only finding him recently was too much to bear. She would not fare well without him. It was Azriel who guided her when she could not see the way through the darkness. Tomorrow, the darkness would take her, not him. She knew it. It was a truth that she could not run from. The thought made her heart speed up. The others would take care of Azriel. Rhysand and Cassian – even Morrigan – they would keep him together when she fell. She had to believe in that.

Azriel’s hands slid to her face, holding her still as their foreheads touched.

‘We will have a future. I promise this.’

She gripped his hands in response, praying to the Mother it was true. Only now that it was going to be snatched away did Nesta realise how desperately she wanted a future with Azriel. She loved him. It was so easy to admit it. He was her first thought when she woke and the last before she closed her eyes. He was everything. She wanted to marry him, to have his children, to grow old together. And it would be taken from them.

Azriel kissed a trail down her body to try to soothe her worries, but he did not know the depths of her fears. He did not know what the morning had planned for her.

He did an admirable job of hiding the pain of his wings as he manoeuvred himself between her thighs. Nesta sank back onto the thin pillow as Azriel languidly kissed her sex. The warmth of his tongue coaxed her legs wider and all the demure ways of a mortal woman were abandoned in favour of her mate’s mouth. Azriel was gentle and demanding in equal measure. His lips pressed firmly against her, savouring the taste as she writhed and jerked from his touch. A hand moved up her body to palm her breast. She twisted her own fingers into his black hair, holding him to her while her release built. Her mate was a careful lover who ensured that she reached the edge of her pleasure. His fingers covered her mouth to muffle her moans in the tent. Azriel didn’t take his eyes off of her, not for a moment, as she came.

‘You are so beautiful,’ he murmured, caressing her face.

‘Let me feel you inside of me.’

His eyes shuttered closed then he moved towards her. He stilled for a moment, wincing as his wing flexed.

‘We’ll be gentle,’ Nesta whispered, stroking his arm.

‘Just this once,’ he teased. The ghost of the smile on his lips was so precious that Nesta held it in her memories like pressing flowers between the pages of a book to keep forever.

Although she was nervous, Nesta could not imagine this moment with anybody else. He had been patient and loving, leading the way through the dark even when Nesta was ready to give up.

Despite having no basis of comparison, she knew his manhood was larger than most. Azriel seemed to come to the same conclusion as he positioned himself at her entrance.

‘You will tell me if you are hurting.’

She gave a little nod, unsure if she could find her voice.

The pressure that built made her hold him closer. Slowly, ever so slowly, Azriel pushed himself in deeper. The feeling of being stretched was not pleasant, nor was it unpleasant. It was unlike anything she had felt before – an invasion where there should have been emptiness. His body on hers was hot, the weight comforting, as she adjusted to him.

‘That’s about half.’

‘Only half?’ Her voice pitched on the last word.

Azriel grimaced. ‘Is it too painful?’

At her hesitation, Azriel made to withdraw his length. Nesta gripped his arm, her nails digging into the flesh. ‘No. Please, stay. Just… slowly.’

He touched her face with reverence. ‘Slowly,’ he agreed. ‘And you will tell me when you want to stop.’

She didn’t know if she ever would. The intimacy of him moving within her meant more to Nesta than anything else. It would override her sense.

He slid in deeper, drawing a ragged moan from her. Each measured thrust of his hips was careful. Azriel was so beautiful. So kind. Hers. This was her mate. Fate had led them together. For five hundred years, Azriel had been waiting for her. There was something deeply romantic about it. He had waited so long to be hers. And tomorrow, he would be without her again. To leave the path to the Cauldron clear, Nesta had to draw out the king. Her life was forfeit. To save him – to save them all – Nesta had to die.

At the first sign of her tears, Azriel froze. ‘Nesta.’

‘Don’t stop.’

‘Nesta, you’re crying.’

‘They are good tears,’ she assured him, swallowing down her joy and sorrow. ‘I love you. I wish I didn’t wait so long to be with you.’

Azriel leaned in close to kiss her. ‘I have waited all of my life to love you.’ He pressed another kiss to her forehead. ‘All of that waiting was worth it. I’d wait another five hundred years if I had to, if it led me to you.’

When he finished inside of her, Nesta held him close. If his wings pained him, Azriel did not let on. He merely, rested his head against her chest while she traced pictures on his skin with the tips of her fingers. His release dribbled from her but both were too tired to clean up properly. There was something sordid yet enticing about his scent covering her. Nesta didn’t want to wash it away. She was his. She would die and the whole world would know she belonged to Azriel.

Faintly, she could make out Rhysand’s voice on the other side of the tent speaking low to Cassian, his voice the rumble of a storm in return. The others had returned to camp after a busy day and night spent evacuating as many mortals as they could. Nesta could only pray that they would be safe, wherever they were.

Azriel had fallen asleep wrapped in her arms after another dosage of the pain remedy. She held him tightly, unwilling to let herself fall asleep. If she fell asleep that meant the dawn would come sooner. Nesta could not let him go. Could not leave him yet.

Fate couldn’t bring them together only to part them so soon, could it?

[mariacallous]

There was a moment that struck me, and I think it would strike you too: Donald Trump openly praised Viktor Orbán, as he has done repeatedly in the past. But he said, explicitly, Orbán is a good guy because he’s a “strongman,” which is a word that he clearly takes to be a compliment, not derogatory. You’ve written about the strongman fantasy in your Substack, so I’m curious: What do you think Trump is appealing to here?

Well, I’m going to answer it in a slightly different way, and then I’ll go back to the way you mean it. I think he’s tapping into one of his own inner fantasies. I think he looks around the world and he sees that there’s a person like Orbán, who’s taken a constitutional system and climbed out of it and has managed to go from being a normal prime minister to essentially being an extraconstitutional figure. And I think that’s what Trump wants for himself. And then, of course, the next step is a Putin-type figure, where he’s now an unquestioned dictator.

For the rest of us, I think he’s tapping—in a minor key—into inexperience, and that was my strongman piece that you kindly mentioned. Americans don’t really think through what it would mean to have a government without the rule of law and the possibility of throwing the bums out. I think we just haven’t thought that through in all of its banality: the neighbors denouncing you, your kids not having social mobility because you maybe did something wrong, having to be afraid all the damn time. African Americans and some immigrants have a sense of this, but in general, Americans don’t get that. They don’t get what that would be like.

So that’s a minor key. The major key, though, is the 20% or so of Americans who really, I think, authentically do want an authoritarian regime, because they would prefer to identify personally with a leader figure and feel good about it rather than enjoy freedom.

You mentioned the word banality, which makes me think of Hannah Arendt’s theory of the “banality of evil.” What would the banality of authoritarianism look like in America?

So let me first talk about the nonbanality of evil, because our version of evil is something like, and I don’t want to be too mean, but it’s something like this: A giant monster rises out of the ocean and then we get it with our F-16s or F-35s or whatever. That’s our version of evil. It’s corporeal, it’s obviously bad, and it can be defeated by dramatic acts of violence.

And we apply that to figures like Hitler or Stalin, and we think, Okay, what happened with Hitler was that he was suddenly defeated by a war. Of course he was defeated by a war, but he did some dramatic and violent things to come to power, but his coming to power also involved a million banalities. It involved a million assimilations, a million changes of what we think of as normal. And it’s our ability to make things normal and abnormal which is so terrifying. It’s like an animal instinct on our part: We can tell what the power wants us to do, and if we don’t think about it, we then do it. In authoritarian conditions, this means that we realize, Oh, the law doesn’t really apply anymore. That means my neighbor could have denounced me for anything, and so I better denounce my neighbor first. And before you know it, you’re in a completely different society, and the banality here is that instead of just walking down the street thinking about your own stuff, you’re thinking, Wait a minute, which of my neighbors is going to denounce me?

Americans think all the time about getting their kids into the right school. What happens in an authoritarian country is that all of that access to social mobility becomes determined by obedience. And as a parent, suddenly you realize you have to be publicly loyal all the time, because one little black mark against you ruins your child’s future. And that’s the banality right there. In Russia, everybody lives like that, because any little thing you do wrong, and your kid has no chance. They get thrown out of school; they can’t go to university.

We don’t imagine how a regime change is going to be at the dinner table. The regime change is going to be on the sidewalk. It’s going to be in your whole life. It’s not going to be some external thing. It’s not like this strongman is just going to be some bad person in the White House, and then eventually the good guys will come and knock him out. When the regime changes, you change and you adapt, and you look around as everyone else is adapting and you realize, Well, everyone else adapting is a new reality for me, and I’m probably going to have to adapt too. Trump wants to be a strongman. He’s already tried a ​​ coup d’état. He makes it clear that he wants to be a different regime. And so if you vote him in, you’re basically saying, “Okay, strongman, tell me how to adapt.”

Yeah, we could talk about Project 2025 all day. This new effort to bureaucratize tyranny—which was not in place in 2020—could really make the banal aspect a reality because it’s enforced by the administrative state, which is going to be felt by Americans at a quotidian level.

I agree with what you say. If I were in business, I would be terrified of Project 2025 because what it’s going to lead to is favoritism. You’re never going to get approvals for your stuff unless you’re politically close to administration. It’s going to push us toward a more Hungary-like situation, where the president’s pals’ or Jared Kushner’s pals’ companies are going to do fine. But everybody else is going to have to pay bribes. Everyone else is going to have to make friends.

It’s anticompetitive.

Yeah, it’s going to generate a very, very uneven playing field where certain people are going to be favored and become oligarchs. And most of the rest of us are going to have a hard time. Also, the 40,000 [loyalists Trump wants to replace the administrative state with] are going to be completely incompetent. When people stop getting their Social Security checks, they’re going to realize that the federal government—which they’ve been told is so dysfunctional—actually did do some things. It’s going to be chaos. The only way to get anything done is to have a phone number where you can call somebody at someplace in the government and say, “Make my thing a priority.” The chaos of the administration state feeds into the strongman thing. And since that’s true, the strongman view starts to become natural for you because it’s the only way to get anything done.

Timothy Snyder Explains How Americans Might Adapt to Fascism Under Trump

[waterfalls-bunny]

can you tell me some bunny hc of yours i’m curious :3

Sorry for the late reply I was thinking about it really ;o; bunny hcs you say huh i love bunny but im a sane person ofc i dont have hcs of them! Why would I-

- They have 3 pets, 2 bunnies and a rat. The bunny is rescued, they're against buying animals.

- They also have rat and bunny matching pijamas (am i insane about these? Probably)

- Kenny spoils Butters a LOT with pretty little things. Butters will do 1% effort and have Kenny over his heels

- Kenny uses 1000000 nicknames for Butters while Leo uses Ken, but he's aware that he has a power whenever he says a nickname to Kenny (and will use it ofc c:<)

- They roleplay dated more than once

- Their favorite spot for playtimes is Stark's Pond bc is quiet, a lot of their dates happen there

- Kenny is indeed a bad influence for Butters, look at them secretly reuniting almost every day at midnight to have time to chat, sacrificing their sleep schedule 💔

- When they moved together, their first fight was about how messy Kenny is when it comes to both taking care of himself and the house, and Butters being too perfectionist with cleaning

- I can picture them being the sort of couple that prefers doing things offline and not make a fuzz of it in social media, if they go on a trip they wont take many photos and instead just enjoy whatever they were gonna do. Sorta childish?

- Although Butters is a sucker for romance, a genre people wouldn't picture him enjoying as much too is the fight/action genre, he's a very intense fan of these and Kenny its as well so they watch wrestling fights and similar activities together (they're both passionate lmao)

- Kenny surprisingly enough is also a fan of cute idle games (Butters and Karen introduced him to it but he's just a huge fan in any case). Example animal crossing or cat bar snack so he has a file exclusively for him in Butters phone/switch and if it wasnt bc is not his device he'd probably be more advanced than Butters file. Tho Butter's favorite will forever be Hello Kitty Island

- Kenny's taught Butters to do the grocery shopping to no avail, the other will somehow pick the expired products and things will always run out when he buys (bad luck boy)

- Butters at some point will be aware of Kenny's immortality (when his grandma died he asked him if she was in heaven, Kenny didnt want to tell him last time he went to hell she wanted to beat the crap out of him bc she found out they were dating on eart and he beat her in defense)

- Theyre the silly lil couple that does innocent things and would make a big fuzz about it (yes Kenny is a bitch but its 100% different when it comes to Butters its funny)

Oh my I didn't expect to list so many LMAO the worst part is that I can make hcs out if anything so lmk if yall want part 2!

[yanderespamton78]

Edit since a lot of people seem confused - your "real" name is the name that you want to be referred to in real life. It doesn't have to be your legal name. So if you're trans and you have a different name to whats on your birth certificate, even if not many people call you by the name, it still counts as your real name.

Edit 2 : Holy shit guys please stop reblogging this post my poor inbox im getting like 20 notifs an hour asjfhkajshdkh /lh /srs

[ronanre]

can you please post your commission sheet please ~!!! and thank you for responding !!!

[slyandthefamilybook]

asking people their pronouns is the bare minimum of trans acceptance and it's something we've had to drag cis people kicking and screaming into doing. where the fuck do you get off throwing all that progress out the window because you like it when people are mean to you actually

[mamawasatesttube]

this isn't like comics-fandom specific by any means, but one thing i do think about semi-regularly is that like. some people are so insistent on stuff being "for fun" so that they can justify never actually thinking about what they're doing, and that's... idk man. in a world where we are inundated with propaganda and bullshit all the time, media literacy, critical thinking, and reading comprehension skills are pretty important. and yeah like no one can have their brain running at max capacity 24/7 but you still gotta like... put in SOME critical thinking. otherwise you just get people being like SO WHAT if this comic is really racist??? you can't ask me to think critically about how it portrays characters of color!!!!! im just here for fun!!!!!! and it's just like. dude.

[blujayonthewing]

one problem with felix is that I keep going 'oh you know what would be a completely logical consequence of the life circumstances he's experienced which are completely different than mine' where the answer is something I almost immediately recognize as being devastatingly relatable to myself

[seventh-district]

not even gonna tag this properly bc i don't wanna get Involved but i do have some Thoughts i need to get out into the void so here we go

(aaa quick edit: CW for mention/discussion of Boothill leaks)

[lovelyrotter]

yknow i love transmasc/tboy dirk always and forever but the way some ppl treat transmascness vs transfemmeness in HS's narrative........kinda sucks. like the whole thing about how being transfeminine is a literal transient experience and lets the character in question (any character) truly escape the oppression of HS's narrative-as-a-character which is patriarchal and toxic (lord english, hussie-the-character to an extent. i guess. idk ive seen a lotta ppl lump SI-hussie in w/ this), which is great and does hold weight as an analytical lens esp with how hussie irl is nonbinary. but where does this leave transmasc characters. why are we treating (headcanoned) transfemme HS characters like this and then tbh gleefully dooming (headcanoned) transmasc characters to eternal narrative suffering brought by LE and then mocking them for being ''gross tboys'' full of ''icky testorerone'' so its their fault theyre in this perpetual torment really? because they ''''chose to be a man''''? dunno man its starting to feel bad. especially since some bnf's who are really into this fan theory do actually kinda treat the general idea of transmasculinity like somthing to hold with tongs at arms length away from them. as if its alien or infectous or something and then get really mad when equally dysphoric transmascs do the same with feminity. why are we dooming dirk strider to eternal toxic-masculine suffering and what does that say about how we treat real life transmasc folks both in and outside of the fandom

[thatweirdtranny]

lmao that person is still talking about me