#SCREAMING AT MY OWN WRITING

[crystalflygeo]

Sinful voice. ft "Morax" + fem!reader (modern AU)

cw/tags: Voice kink, daddy kink, dirty talk, female masturbation, uuhh fantasizing? petnames (sweetheart, sweetie, babygirl, darling).

notes: I literally had this sudden brainrot idea today at work (rip) and as soon as I came home I typed all this in a rush and bOI. That man's voice is just...... no words. Drives me insane, wild, crazy, feral.

To say you were nervous was an understatement.

You were starting a new chapter of your life, fresh into college, moving to a whole other city to dedicate to your studies and enter the “adult world”

You’d arrived a few weeks early to move in and start settling on your little space, it was barely a small room in a house you’d share with other new students. You’d even share a kitchen but hey, at least each one had a tiny individual bathroom for yourselves.

Tomorrow was the big day. Your first day. And although you’d heard many people say they would just take it easy or even skip the first few days (because “they were not that important” as schedules and teachers were still being organized) you’d heard just as many stories about how college was difficult and important and you gotta make good first impressions and familiarize and meet new people and blablabla…

It was pretty nerve-wracking.

So here you are, way past midnight, rolling over in bed unable to calm down.

You sigh and start messing around with your phone, bored. Maybe you can just skip tomorrow?

Or maybe…

You bite your lip. There’s a little something you can do to… relax.

Before you can even think, your fingers are already typing the familiar webpage name on the phone, already smiling mischievously.

In your search for a little “spice” for your solo pleasure sessions you often went for audios and ASMR content. The sounds and voices were much hotter than excessively raunchy lame crude run-of-the-mill videos in your honest opinion. All you had to do was get comfy, close your eyes, and immerse on the fantasy. It was bliss.

And so, a few months ago you had found him.

Morax.

Oh, that man had a voice to die for, deep and rich like syrup, making you shiver and whine every time. His content was absolutely top-notch and you’d been instantly drawn like a moth to a flame ever since you’d managed to drag out one of your best orgasms ever after listening and playing along for a few minutes.

And when you dug around and found his subscription page? Oh boy, you were a goner.

You can only imagine what your parents would say if they knew you spend money on something like this but hey, financial independence means you can spend your money (from part time-jobs and whatnot) on whatever you want.

And damn you want this sexy voice murmuring dirty praise on your ear.

You scramble out of bed, grabbing your earphones and getting rid of some of your clothes before settling down again comfortably, pillow propped against the headboard, almost giggling excitedly as you scroll around the page’s contents.

Morax was obviously an experienced dom. His content covered a myriad of different kinks and scenarios, many of which you had even only started to explore because of him. And though his voice was always calm and refined, with this sweetness and dominant tilt to it, his growls and groans could be just as wild. Morax sounded downright sinful when angry, scolding or degrading the listener. And his moans and soft chuckles? Oh, you could just faint with those.

Or come, probably. Yeah.

“Daddy fucks you in his lap” “Overstimulating my pet’s little clit” “Grind your sweet pussy on Master’s leg” “Waking you up with my big cock” “Making you my good girl” “Cum until you cry and beg”

You blush as you look at the titles, skimming around tags and descriptions looking for whatever strikes your mood tonight. Heck, anything would be fine if it was him though, you swore you weren’t even into the whole daddy kink before you heard Morax but now…

Oh.

Well lucky you, he’d just uploaded something new a few hours ago, you were one of the first views… ever the fangirl, huh? You click on it as you subconsciously lick your lips. Gods, your body feels hot and needy already, knowing what’s to come.

“Daddy spoils your little pussy” reads the caption, and you place your phone by your side, lying down, propping your legs and closing your eyes.

Oh, oh my god. Your breath catches as the audio starts off right away with some lewd wet noises. Usually, Morax would sweet talk for a bit first to set the scene and mood, but you sure weren’t complaining!

Your heartbeat speeds up as your hands start rubbing at your legs and over your panties, just trying to get your body up to speed.

“Hmmm… oh, there you are sweetheart.” Gods. Morax’s voice. You already wanted to moan at the deep baritone vibrating in your ears. “I’m sorry to wake you up.”

How ironic that you couldn’t sleep yourself.

His voice drags, sounds a little tired and hoarse, it just adds to it and you picture him kissing and dragging his tongue along your skin “You like that don’t you baby? Feeling my lips… tracing your hipbone like this. I can feel the goosebumps blooming along your skin.”

Oh goosebumps alright, you shiver as you rub at your skin a little impatient, how you wish you really had his lips worshipping you right now.

“You don’t even have to do anything, you can even just go back to sleep, if you’d like.” He chuckles. “But daddy just needed you, he needed his… hmm… sweet babygirl.”

“Hng Morax yes… need you too, daddy.” You whisper softly, already shifting on the sheets.

He continues to kiss and whisper sweet nothings about how he wants to make you feel good, kiss you and pamper you and make you relax, and you melt. His soft breathing and wet sucking and kissing noises turning you on instantly.

“Alright sweetie let’s take these panties off.” There’s a slight rustle of fabric in the audio as you quickly strip off your own underwear along. “That’s a good girl. Hmm… look at your sweet little pussy, already wet and swollen for me.” He groans and you whimper and buck your hips.

“Oh god please…” You’re so keyed up already. Morax simply has that effect on you, and you wish he would hurry so you can start touching where you most need it.

“Hmm… just relax sweetheart. Lie down and let daddy take care of you… of your cute little pussy.” More erotic noises follow as you picture him slowly going down and down until he kisses and licks at your folds. “Oh, that tickles sweetie?” Another sinful chuckle.

His voice, his voice was just so good. You’d wondered many times what kind of man would have such a deep hypnotizing voice. Surely he was older, but maybe not quite a silver fox. Dark hair, maybe? A large frame, broad shoulders, lean muscles but still elegant, a proper gentleman to go with his personality.

You knew he had golden eyes, that was a fact. Well, at least what he’d mentioned in a couple of scenes, it could very well be a lie but you wanted to believe in that mysterious domineering golden glow, staring up at you like molten heat from above you or between your legs.

Morax’s voice keeps feeding your fantasy, commenting how wet you are, how your body twitches, how he drags, slow and languid around your hole and oh, it’s like your body responds exactly the way he wants, guided by him.

“Darling, let me just… hmm… suck on your cute little clit like this.”

“Ah!”

A shock of pleasure runs trough your veins as you start rubbing on the little nub. His voice muffled, moaning as he sucks and licks and sighs deeply, clearly enjoying this.

“So sweet, so good for me. Oh, it makes daddy just ache for you sweetheart.”  

You want Morax’s cock in you yesterday.

His voice turns breathy and strained, the noises and tension intensifying as you rub faster, legs shaking, your breath coming out in gasps to match his, back arching off the bed. It’s all so good, his praise, his dirty words, his gasps, his moans.

“Come on sweetie, I know you want my big cock but first… hng… first daddy wants you to cum hah… do that for me princess? Come for daddy, come on.”

“F-fuck… fuck… hnnng” You mewl. “M-Morax…”

“I got you darling I’m right here, you can cum baby I want to taste you.”

“Ah A-Ah!” Your mouth parts into a silent scream and your whole body tenses and shudders, pleasure buzzing in your veins and under your flushed sweaty skin. Your juices spill against your hand but you imagine them wetting his chin as his voice groans and moans in your ears. You picture those half-lidded sultry golden eyes glowering at you.

“That’s a very good girl…” He chuckles, and your hazy mind can picture him nuzzling at your inner thighs. “Now, now get ready babygirl, give me your legs like this.” A noise of sheets shifting registers in your brain “Around my shoulder and let me just… hng… stroke my big cock ready for you.”

Oh you were floating, your head was spinning, you parted your legs, following his every command, fingers still rubbing at your oversensitive folds to simulate whatever he was doing. You moan at the slick jerking sound and vaguely lament not having something to fill you up as he would.

“Hmm… we’re just getting started, my dear.” He hisses.

The night was long and the audio not even halfway…

———————————————————–

Even though you ended up going to sleep way past any reasonable time you didn’t really feel tired. In fact, you slept wonderfully, warm and sated. And so, you headed up to class with a carefree skip and bright smile, excited to see what this new day and new year would bring you.

The classroom was rather big but looked pretty empty even though the professor was already there, you slid into one of the front seats and quickly checked the time. You weren’t late or anything, he was just… punctual and early, it seems. Which is more than can be said by the majority of the students… if they are even coming to the class.

Some general studies were mandatory classes, though you’d only had to take a couple courses before moving to subjects more in line with your chosen career. But for now, seems like you had to deal with… history.

The professor was, well… handsome, to be quite honest. And you found yourself quietly admiring him from afar. Prim and proper with long silky dark hair in a low ponytail, a perfectly neat and brown suit, and thin elegant glasses that only drew more attention to his striking gold eyes. Not a crease in sight, not a hair out of place.

He was rather meticulous it seems, with the way he organized his material, checking the time before starting the class on the dot.

“Greetings everyone, my name is Zhongli.” He smiles warmly. “I believe a welcome in is order as this is your first day of college, a new stage of your life.”

No way.

Absolutely no fucking way.

His voice…

“Seems like you’re stuck with me for your very first class.” He chuckles.

Low and deep and velvet.

Oh, you know that exact same sound.

Your eyes widen.

Oh shit.

Mr. Zhongli is Morax…

“Let’s hope this year shall be a good and prosperous one, hm?”

[sunnymainecoonx]

How many people witnessed softie food addict horror who needed something in his mouth or he would actively kill and turn to cannibalism 🧍‍♀️ or was that just me.... anyways honestly it was silly.. he'd maybe get along with cook horror... I just like fanon crossovers guys*sadge

Anyways canon horror is also silly(really silly. What an asshole, man)(no seriously he's actually such an asshole.. I might love him for that but-) I don't think he would get along with the others(loser)

[nibbelraz]

If Bingqiu gets their own little stories, then I'm sure people would also start writing about the cold and powerful Demon King of the North and his most trusted advisor

[hair-dice]

I wonder how goddamn hot it must be inside AM. Y'know? That's a computer they're inside. Knowing my own laptop, they must be boiling! Pains me to even think about the state of the rest of the world, not that there's anything left to inhabit it.

Can you imagine burying your hands through the sharp rocks and gravel, feeling past the frequently disturbed soil, down to the metal casing below? Your hands start to feel warmer and warmer the deeper they dig, until you're shocked by a sudden burning sensation on your fingertips.

You'd be warm the whole time, no matter where you stood. It's a wonder how there's even ice still on the planet-- if it's even real. If you left your hands on the metal shell, you'd feel the burn first. As the nerves in your palms slowly died yet again, the flesh sizzling, you'd begin to feel the vibrations of the machinery inside.

Millions and millions of miles of raw technological power, and you at the heart of it. Lay your cheek on the steel. Press yourself against it. Feel the stinging pain. Tomorrow, you'd feel it again. Then the next day, you'd feel it again. Then again, and again, until one day you'd have nothing left to burn for the Mastercomputer's sick enjoyment. It burns, no less than real love ever would.

[pixlatedvampire]

Was Grimas relationship w Saruman a dom situ?

Who can say. Is it really any of our business?

[strwbrryfire]

a running start to the cusp of greatness.

fortesa latifi, the truth about grief / ? / michael cunningham / my original work

[willowser]

every single day i think about the influence touya would have had on shouto as an older brother.

he has to take him everywhere he goes, so they're always jamming to the same hardcore music in touya's shitty car. shouto, obviously, develops a taste for the same bands, same songs. shouto is also in the ride-along to buy cigarettes and beer at midnight, and touya threatens his whole entire life if he tells rei, but shouto would never because he likes going too much.

shouto 100% would attempt to kick the ass of anyone that talked shit to his brother. little string bean, doesn't matter, this little boy is throwing HANDS for touya, and touya very much has the attitude of "no one can fuck with my little brother but me". whenever shouto gets in trouble for doing something he shouldn't be doing, touya is always taking the fall for him, no questions asked. shouto lies for touya like it's second nature.

shouto wants an earring because of touya, and touya probably GIVES the piercing to him, which makes enji blow a gasket. touya learns to play the drums and then shouto wants to, too — though he ends up being better than touya and touya promptly quits after that. touya teaches him to drive. shouto gets drunk for the first time with touya BECAUSE touya wants to be there to take care of him. they hate each other, they get into fist fights all the time, rolling around the house as fuyumi screams at both of them. they're best friends. they understand each other more than anyone else ever could.

[celestair]

rin "my girlfriend doesnt tell me what to do" itoshi, except yes she absolutely does. acts like he doesnt need to ask for permission for anything but still does anyway, makes sure to get you everything you need, even when you dont need anything he still gets you something. when he has to go out he still asks you if he wants to go and if you say no he doesnt he simply wont.

[canonically47]

i love writing fanfiction because i too will sometimes gasp at my own writing. how the fuck did i come up with this /pos

(read here !!!)

[lightningidle]

Fig's line "I don't think I'm an artist, I think I'm just a good friend" has not left my head at all. Just...

You're Fig Faeth and your horns came in over the summer and you pick up the bard class as a form of adolescent rock 'n' roll rebellion, and it works! It's exactly the outlet you need! You give a guy you just met drumsticks and you start a band and it's good enough that within a year and a half you're touring. You are, in every sense, good at being a bard.

And then, finally, your junior year, you start to take it seriously. Your art goes from an outlet and a form of rebellion to a practice. A discipline. (Can rebellion exist within a discipline?) Your classmates know what they want to do with their work. They all have a thesis statement. And yeah, there's cohesion in the music you make, but you've never had to think about why you make it. You've never sat down and dissected what it is about bass that speaks to you. You've never poured over your lyrics to pick at any deeper meaning. Why should you? You don't play music for a grand design, you do it to... huh, why do you do it?

(Your art is the one form of self-expression that feels as safe as Disguise Self does, because even if you're pouring your heart onto the page and then screaming it in front of thousands of people, it's not like you're really making yourself known. You can sing I'm lonely, I'm scared, I'm furious, and your fans will sing it right back, and there will still be the distance between performer and audience to keep your heart safe.)

Now you're being asked to look inward to explain the artistic choices you're making, and you can't help but recoil at that, because you'd rather do anything than look inward. Meanwhile, your classmates have no problem with it, so you start to wonder if you're a real artist at all. Can your art be authentic if it only exists to bolster a thesis statement? Has your art been unauthentic this whole time because you've never really thought about a thesis statement before? Is that what makes it art, and not just the next track on somebody's teen angst playlist?

You can't think about yourself— acknowledging your own existence makes you want to puke. So if your music is an extension of yourself, (and it is, even if it's just because the spotlight reveals only what you want it to,) you can't think about your music. You can't. You have to. Your grade depends on it.

You're Fig Faeth, and you keep multiclassing because you'd rather be a good friend than a great artist. If introspection is what great art demands, then fuck it. You must not be a bard at all.

[thedollopheadofcamelot]

Them ❤️💙 in one of my fanfic WIPs 🥺

…

“But now I’m wondering how much you deserve it,” Merlin kids as he softly, affectionately threads Arthur’s bangs back from his forehead using his fingertips.

Arthur huffs, leaning into Merlin’s hand and then trapping it between his face and the bed. “Nonsense,” he whispers as he presses his nose into Merlin’s palm, warming it lightly with his breath.

Merlin turns to absolute mush, his heart squeezing in his chest as Arthur’s touch leaves him misty eyed and full of love.

“Read to me, Merlin.”

“Yes, sire,” he breathes, caressing Arthur’s face with his thumb and carefully skimming the next report in his other hand.

They fall into a rhythm. Merlin reads as Arthur cuddles closer to him. Soon every report has been looked over, either signed or set aside for further investigation. Arthur’s headache is gone but Merlin still gently rubs his head. Though maybe it’s just his excuse to play with Arthur’s beautiful golden hair.

“Thank you,” Arthur whispers, so quietly the words almost don’t exist.

And then Merlin has paragraphs of devotion on his tongue, endless words woven from love and complete adoration, but he saves them, tucks them back inside…He knows they are too much for Arthur to hear right now.

So instead he bends, so slowly, so gently pressing a kiss to the temple of the one he worships, to Arthur, his sun, his world. And then he pulls away.

He pulls away from glassy eyes, from eyebrows knit in confusion, from a mouth hanging open in awe.

“Goodnight, Arthur,” He whispers. And as the moon rises in the sky, he rises from Arthur’s bed and extinguishes the candles in the room one by one until there’s only one left.

“Wait,” Arthur says and Merlin does; he always will for him.

[coaaster]

can’t believe there’s not more Halsin fics out there. bro basically admitted to having a predator/prey kink AND he’s a hunk 😔

[feyreswaterybowels]

Falling Star🌠

Azriel x Rhys’ Sister

Word Count: 4.4k

Tags/Warnings: Angst. Death. Love Confessions. Friends with benefits to fated mates. Hurt/Comfort. Not Y/N. Third Person. Probably grammatical errors.

Summary: Stella is Rhys’ little sister. Her and Azriel are best friends with benefits on the down low. The bond snapped into place and things didn’t work out the way Stella wished they had.

Stella stood outside the heavy wooden doors of the High Lord's study. They were preparing for battle, the battle against Hybern. Tensions were high and things would either work in their favor or change life completely as they knew it.

Her hand was half raised—ready to knock but she had stopped herself twice, debating if now was the proper time for this conversation. Her heart ached in her chest at the decision she was about to make.

Just come in, little star.

The words echoed in her head. She wasn’t surprised he knew she was standing out there, she and her brother had always been in tune with one another.

She sighed, reaching out to push the door open. Rhysand was already standing to greet her as she walked in. He didn’t bother with a smile or greeting to cover the frown on his face. He could read her better than anyone even without entering her head. All it took was one look at her face and he knew something wasn’t right.

What is it? What’s wrong, Stella?

She fiddled with her hands for a moment, leaning against his desk. Thinking. Trying to find the right words. Decide how much she wanted to give away. If she wanted to tell her brother that she found her mate—that said mate did not want her and she was heartbroken because she had been in love with him for years before the bond snapped into place. That she had wrongfully assumed he felt the same way.

She was wrong about a lot.

“When the war is over,” she started, pausing to choose her words, “I want you to send me…away.”

“Away?” Rhys asks, arms folded, dark brows rising high above his violet eyes.

“Yes.” She nodded. “After the war. Assuming everything goes to plan—works in our favor. I want you to send me away.”

“Why?” He asked, confusion etched all over his face.

“I can’t be…here,” she breathed, the pain in her chest tightening. That string that connected her to her mate pulled taunt as if he was pulling away as hard as he could hoping it would snap in two.

“Why?” It was more of a demand than a question. She knew that tone. He wasn’t going to let her go on a half-assed explanation. He wanted details. A reason. The truth.

She felt her eyes water, it would be easier to just let him in her mind. Show him what was wrong but then he would see too much. See things that might make him hate her fated mate, someone he loved dearly and she couldn’t allow that.

“Azriel’s my mate…” She whispered, unsure if he heard her.

“What?” Fuck, don’t make me say it again.

Her violet eyes met his, brimmed with tears and pleading.

“Azriel’s my mate,” she whispered again, her voice breaking into a sob.

Then she was being scooped into her brother's arms. Wrapped up like she was a little girl again and cradled against his chest. She didn’t know how long they stood there. She heard the faintest click of the door closing but didn’t bother to check if he used his magic or if someone else had done it. But her cries turned into soft sniffles before dying out.

Rhys pulled back, grabbed her face, and wiped away her tears. His eyes met hers, violet searching violet.

“Did he reject it?” He asks, eyes flashing with anger, Stella shakes her head.

“No. He didn’t reject it. But he made it very clear he doesn’t want it either,” she shrugs, sniffing.

“And this is why you wish to leave?” Rhys asks, hands still holding her face as she nodded.

“Where would you go?” He asked, emotions lacing through his voice.

“Tarquin has told me I’m welcome in his court. I haven’t talked to him in some time but I—I think that’s where I could go. If not, maybe Helion would be willing to let me go there…” She trails off. She had thought that far ahead. She could stay in Velaris…but to see him every day? Work with him? Just the thought was painful. Painful enough to make her gasp and clutch at her chest.

Rhys growled, taking a step away and heading for the study’s doors. Stella’s eyes widened and she stumbled reaching for him.

“Where are you going?” She asked, panicked.

“To knock some sense into his stubborn ass,” Rhys had the door half opened before she slammed herself against it to stop him.

“You can’t,” she shook her head. He looked at her skeptically as if to say, yeah he absolutely could do that. But she shook her head again. “Not with this, Rhys. Please. He has to choose or reject it on his own—you can’t make him.”

Rhys hung his head with a sigh. He knew she was right. She was forever grateful for her brother's love, his protection but not with this. It wouldn’t be real if he fought Azriel into the mating bond. She didn’t want that. She wanted it to be real.

She thought what they had was real.

“Don’t hate him, please,” Stella begged. “He’s your brother as much as I’m your sister. You know blood has never mattered. So don’t hate him. But…but when this war is over I need you to let me go. Please, Rhys.”

Rhys looked up, their eyes meeting again and he nodded.

“Okay, sweetheart.”

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

That night Stella was in her room. Packing away the last of her things. Her entire life was packed away in boxes and luggage. At this point, she and everyone she loved would die in this war or they would win and she would leave the only home she’d ever known behind. It hurt to think about.

A knock on the door sounded and opened before she could answer whether to come in or not. She wasn’t completely surprised to see Feyre entering, she knew Rhys would tell her, they didn’t keep things from one another.

“So, it’s true? You’re planning on leaving?” Feyre asks, walking over, her dark dress dragging the floor silently as she takes a seat by the open windows. Stella nodded her head in answer.

“I’m sure Rhys told you why,” She said softly, taking a seat next to her.

“He did. I could tell he was upset and demanded to know why, I couldn’t imagine it was anything like this,” She says, a frown tugging at her lips. “Does he know you and Azriel were sleeping together?”

Stella’s eyes burned with tears as she looked away from her friend. Fuck. She shook her head. If she had shared that with Rhys there would have been no stopping him, he would have hunted Azriel down.

“No. I don’t want him to hate his brother,” Stella said, swiping at her cheeks quickly.

“Are you going to tell him you’re leaving?” the High Lady asks, waving a hand for a tray of steaming tea to appear. “Azriel, I mean.”

Stella bit her lip as Feyre handed her a mug. She hadn’t thought about whether she would tell him or not. She didn’t want to just disappear but she didn’t want him to blame himself either.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged with a sigh, letting the steam from the tea waft up into her nostrils. Something floral with a hint of sweet honey. “Would you?”

“I kind of did leave, remember? I mean I was the one who wasn’t sure of the mating bond at first but that time alone helped me…process. So maybe the distance could help? I don’t know,” Feyre frowns before continuing, “Whatever you decide will be the right decision. Don't second-guess yourself. Only you know what’s right for you.”

“I—I thought he loved me,” she admitted softly. “As more than a friend. As more than family. I thought he loved me, he said—”

Stella hiccuped on a cry trying to find it’s way from her mouth, taking a sip of tea and letting it burn its way down her throat.

“He said he wanted me. We shared a bed almost every night. The way he touched me, kissed me, made love to me…was it all a lie?” I cried, my eyes meeting hers, gray-blue pools brimmed with tears.

“I’m sorry,” Was Feyre’s answering whisper, her hand reaching out to rest on Stella’s knee.

The rest of our visit was spent in silence.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Today was the day. Stella braided her hair back, dressed in her leathers adorned with three purple siphons, and strapped her weapons to her body. She looked in the mirror, wings arching behind her. She turned around, the room now so empty, only the corner filled with boxes and luggage was occupied. The shelves and bed were stripped bare, ready for her departure.

The bed she shared with Azriel so many nights. Secret meetings, dinner and fucks. Various nights where he showed up bloody from combat and she patched him up. Drunken nights after too many drinks at Rita—stumbling into this room to undress one another. Or on the occasion one or the other had a nightmare, as they plagued them all, would lead to cuddling until the sunrise.

Stella nearly jumped as a shadow slithered up her thigh. She hadn’t noticed it, only giving her a second before Azriel appeared, dressed in his leathers, all seven blue siphons faintly glowing. She’d always loved those siphons.

“What’s all this?” Is the first thing he asks looking around the room. No hello or greeting of any kind.

She shrugs in answer. Maybe now was as good a time as any to tell him. But would her decision matter enough to distract him in the battle? She couldn’t live with herself if she was the reason he got hurt. “Are you leaving?” He asks.

“After the battle,” she nodded in answer.

“Where?” He asks, with what seems to be a concern—or was the worry?

“I don’t know yet, why do you care?” Stella snapped. Azriel’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You’re leaving because of me.” It’s not a question. She clenched her jaw looking down at the shadow still wrapped around her thigh. “You don’t have to—”

“I can’t be here. I can’t be around you,” She snarled, watching him and his shadows cringe at it. “Do you have any idea how painful it is to see you every day, Azriel?”

A look of guilt and shame passes over his features.

“Because I won’t accept the mating bond?” He says in disbelieving shock.

“Are you kidding me? You know as much about mating bonds as I do. You know how painful it can be. Why are you pretending like we’re any different? I feel you pulling away from it every day and it feels like my heart is being ripped from my chest every time you do,” She said, voice shaking and emotional. She shook her head and blinked away the tears. “After the war, you can reject the bond formally and then I’ll leave.”

They stood there in silence. Staring at one another. His shadow squeezed around her thigh as the rest swirled and whispered around him. She stood tall, batting his shadow away, she would not break down in front of him. Not today, not now.

“I made it clear how I felt from the beginning…” He begins, trailing off and she could swear she heard his shadows hiss as if offended for her.

“Yeah, I know what you said. Just sex,” She rolled her eyes, fists clenching at her sides. “But then everything you did, every action after that said something else. The way you touched me, fucked me, spoke to me all screamed more than sex. But that was my mistake, I guess. So, you have no reason to feel guilty when I leave. It was just sex for you and I—I fell in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for years and I foolishly thought…” She stopped herself.

Azriel stepped forward, opening his mouth but a knock on the door echoed through the empty room.

“We’re all ready,” Feyre’s voice calls.

“Coming,” Stella called back. Her eyes caught Azriel’s before she stepped forward and walked around him.

Are you okay? Feyre asked once she was out of the room.

No. She shook her head, letting Feyre hug her tightly.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

EARLIER

“Az,” Cassian greeted, stepping out onto the training level.

“Morning,” Azriel said from where he was seated on the ledge, overlooking the city below.

Cassian walked over, surveying his brother, leaning against the edge and crossing his arms.

“Everything okay?” He asked, watching the storming shadows slow a bit.

Azriel’s quiet for a minute before sighing, and hung his head. Cassian stayed quiet too, waiting for his brother to say whatever he needed to. It’s a long minute before he lifts his head, looking out over the expanse in Velaris.

“I fucked up,” He confessed.

Cassian’s brow raised as his spine straightened. “How so?”

“Stella’s my mate,” He breathed, the first time he’s said it out loud to anyone.

Cassian let out a low whistle. “And how exactly did you fuck up?”

“I told her I didn’t want it,” He admitted, swallowing thickly, looking over at his brother.

“I thought you two…” Cassian trails off with a vague hand gesture and an eyebrow raise. Azriel shrugs.

“We were sleeping together. But that’s it, that’s all it was,” Azriel explained, but the look Cassian gave him made him cringe away. “We agreed—”

“That girl has been in love with you for years, at least a decade, there’s no way you didn’t know that, Az,” Cassian said, remembering how those two were a couple without actually being a couple. They were more in love than anyone else he’d ever known, or at least he thought they were. “How did she react when the bond snapped?”

“She was excited,” Azriel answered, a thickness taking over his throat. “She made a big dinner. I thought it was just dinner. She kept asking questions, I guess trying to figure out if it snapped for me too, it hadn’t. Not at that time. She eventually just said we were mates, that the bond snapped for her that morning when we were in bed together—during our fucking. She was so happy. And I completely shut her down. Told her I didn’t want it, that we weren’t together, that I didn’t want to be together, and that we needed to figure out what to do about it.”

Cassian's eyes are wide. He wasn’t one to judge but he would never expect that kind of harshness from his brother directed to someone he knew the shadowsinger loved.

“Fuck, Az. That’s rough…” Cassian eventually said. “Fuck. I know that hurt her badly.”

Azriel nodded, dropping his head to his hands.

“Yeah. She cried a lot. Begged me not to leave when I got up to go. I can feel her pain all the time through the bond even with it not being accepted. I can feel her happiness when she sees me before it turns to dread. What we had was good, so good, but what if…what if the bond changes that?” Azriel’s voice broke. “I love her. Of course, I love her. But I don’t know if the bond is right for us.”

“Az, man, you’re overthinking this shit,” Cassian shook his head. “Of course the mating bond is right. The mother doesn’t make mistakes. I know you’ve always felt unworthy of love but man, that girl loves you more than anyone. You deserve love and happiness. You and Stella deserve it, together.”

“I don’t know how to fix it,” Azriel whispersed.

“Just talk to her man. Tell her how you feel. The bond doesn’t have to be accepted right now, maybe tell her you need to think about it not that you don’t want it,” Cassian offered, reaching out to grab his brother's shoulder, squeezing it.

“I—I’ll talk to her before we leave…”

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

The next time Stella saw Azriel was in the midst of battle. High in the sky. After meetings and marching onto the field were done. It was nothing but fighting after that. It had been a long time. Many soldiers are dead or injured already. More would be too.

Stella knew Rhys and Feyre had something up their sleeve with talk of the Bonecarver. They needed any help they could get. They didn’t have as many men as Hybern.

Little Star? Echoes in her head as she shoved a Hybern warrior away, slashing at him with her sword.

I’m fine. You? Is her answer, plunging straight through his heart.

Me too. Then her head is silent again. Turning her attention to the next warrior to approach her. They came quick enough, when one fell, another was immediately there to take its place.

She looked around, there were many warriors in the sky but it wasn’t hard to spot Azriel. Something felt wrong as she watched Azriel, not with him but with the Hybern warriors around him. She wanted to tug the bond and alert him to something being wrong but that could distract him and put him in a dangerous situation.

Stella slit the throat of the warrior approaching her and shot through the sky before the next one could approach. She had to dodge and swerve around fighting pairs, missing swords and fists landing in all directions.

She was closer to Az, there are fewer warriors around him now. She stopped where she was, with no immediate danger around them, and tugged on the bond. She saw him freeze and tugged again. He whirled around searching for her.

She could see the panic on his face as he scanned the sky for her. He spins around and their eyes meet. She tugged the bond, trying to gauge if he’s okay, something still felt wrong, but he must have understood because he nodded—and for the first time he tugs back.

Her heart leaps in her chest and if she was standing her knees would have gone weak. But something was still wrong. Instead of a warm feeling spreading through her at that tug it was something cold and icy. Worry? No, not worry. Warning.

Their eyes met again, hazel orbs wide and his shadows storming violently. She swore the bond tugging in her chest felt like it was trying to pull her forward. Just as she was about to follow it she stopped.

Azriel’s face is one of pure pain when she fely a force behind her and then everything went numb. She felt a heavy weight in her stomach. She drop her eyes from Azriel’s to her stomach and there sticking from her stomach was…a sword?

Stella’s eyes meet Azriel’s again, a sob tearing from her throat as the sword ripped from her stomach.

“NO!” Azriel’s voice rips through the space and she felt the world around her shake. She felt the warmth spreading over her abdomen and the wetness there when she touched it.

She heard a pained sound behind her but before she could turn to see what happened her wings gave out. She knew she was falling but she couldn’t do anything to stop it. She saw Cassian shove a body off his sword, a panicked-pained look on his face when their eyes met.

Her eyes find Azriel again, flying to her. She tried to reach for him but he was too far away. Then he was gone, nowhere in her sight. She squeezed her eyes shut, and felt the tears leak down her temples. Not like this. I don’t want to go like this.

Stell’s body smashes into something hard and she knew it had to be the ground. Dead. Am I dead? She sobbed and pain radiated from her wound all over her body.

“Sh.” A voice rumbled into her hair and she realized she hadn’t smashed into the ground. She smashed into a body, into Azriel who had her wrapped tightly in his arms, flying faster than she had ever felt.

His shadows wrapped around her tightly as they flew before everything disappeared as he winnowed. She grabbed him tightly, shoving her face against his neck and praying to the Mother to just let her stay in the warmth of his arms a little longer.

Another body quaking shake wracked through her as they landed harshly on the ground.

“Rhysand!”

“Feyre!”

“Thesan!” Azriel’s voice thunders around her. Screaming desperately for someone, anyone to heal her.

Stella heard voices around them but couldn’t make out what they were saying. The sunlight is gone but as she’s laid down she realized they’ve been brought to a tent. She tried to grab Azriel, sobbing for him not to leave her.

Sh, little star we have to heal you. Rhys coos in her head but she can hear the emotion that he tries to cover.

“I need these leathers removed,” An older voice said, Madja. It’s got to be Madja. A pain radiated from her stomach and she sobbed again.

Hands worked to remove her leathers, she opened my eyes. Feyre and Rhys stand above her, unbuckling armor and removing layers to allow Madja to work.

She yanked the bond hard. Azriel. She wanted Azriel. And then he’s there crouching next to her head, hazel eyes wet and pained, a hand stroking through her hair.

“Az…”

“Sh, don’t speak,” He strokes her hair. “I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you.”

Stella felt Madja’s hands on her stomach, the warmth of her magic and it hurt. She screamed over the hushed hurried speaking around her.

And then there’s nothing but black darkness.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

When Stella opened her eyes she was at the river house, curled up in her favorite chair. Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion and nearly sobbed when she realize what this was.

“Hey, little star,” Rhy’s voice echoed around the room before he appears on the couch across from her.

“How bad is it?” She breathes, wrapping her arms around her middle. “Don’t lie, please.”

“It’s bad,” Rhys breathed quietly after a moment. Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. A heavy sigh leaves him. “Madja couldn’t heal you. You aren’t healing on your own. Feyre and I both tried and nothing.”

“Thesan?”

“Madja’s gone to retrieve him but there’s a chance even his power may not heal you,” He said, and she could hear the emotion in his voice.

“Is it faebane?” She asked, chin wobbling, he nodded. “I took the antidote, I don’t understand.”

“Neither do we, we’ve asked Thesan but he doesn’t understand either. No one else has been affected by the faebane,” Rhys explained, eyes flashing to her.

“So…I’m going to die?” Her voice cracked.

“I’m going to do everything in my power to save you—”

“I don’t think you can,” She whisper, holding his gaze. She could see it in his eyes, he knows as much as she doesn’t three powerful healers can’t save her there’s not much hope. “Wake me up, I need to say goodbye to him.”

Rhys looks at her and nodded. He stood and she followed. She couldn’t stop herself from throwing her arms around him. Hugging him tighter than she ever had before.

“Tell everyone I love them,” she whispered against his shoulder. “I love you, Rhys.”

His hand cupped the back of her head, holding her tight, his body shaking with silent cries. “I love you, Little Star.”

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Warmth. That’s the first thing Stella noticed. She was warm and comfortable. She blinked her eyes open with a soft groan. She turned her head and saw Azriel, eyes shut and forehead pressed to his hands clasping hers.

“Hey there,” She whispered, squeezing his hand. Reaching out through the bond relieved when it was open and welcoming. She melted into the cot, not in much pain. She was sure her brother was to thank for that.

Stella looked down over myself, covered in a thin blanket up to her waist, eyes landing on her bandaged abdomen—on the blood-soaked bandage.

“Hey back,” He whispered, keeping a grip on her hand with one of his while the other reached out to stroke her hair. She let herself relax into the touch, nuzzling against his hand.

“Rhys says I’m not healing,” She breathed, voice cracking.

“I know, baby,” Azriel answered softly with a nod. Eyes wet and lips bloody red from being bitten. “Come here.”

He lifted her easily, placing her in his lap and cradling her. She could vaguely feel his shadows curling over her skin, through her hair, trying to comfort her as much as he was.

“I’m gonna die,” She cried, pressing her face to his chest.

Azriel shushed her, continuing to stroke her hair as he rocked them back and forth. “I’m sorry,” he cried, looking down at her. “I was wrong. I was so wrong to tell you I didn’t want the mating bond. It had nothing to do with you, my love. You are the perfect mate. I was trying to deny it, thinking I didn’t deserve the love of such a perfect mate. I’ve been in love with you for years, fighting it as hard as I could. And I was afraid. Afraid I would love you and it wouldn’t be enough. Please, forgive me my love, my mate. Please. I love you.”

His broken sobs were painful. His body was shaking hard. All Stella wanted to do was kiss him. So she did. She grabbed his face, pulled him down, and kissed him. Her lips were dry but she didn’t care.

“I forgive you,” She whispered against his lips. “Reject the bond.”

“What?” He asked, eyes squinted in confusion.

“Reject the bond, it—it will hurt less when I go,” She said, she wanted to save him from that heartache.

“No,” He shakes his. “No, I won’t put you through that pain. I won’t let you die like that.”

“It’s okay, Az—”

“It’s not,” He growled, sobbing when she touched his face. “You’re my mate, I won’t reject it.”

He leaned down to kiss her again, his lips were soft but tasted like blood. The kiss was a mere pressing of lips, she was too weak to fully kiss back.

When Azriel pulled away her eyes stayed closed, breath slow and shallow. He could feel her life slipping from her body. But it’s not when she’s limp in his arms and chest no longer moving that he knows she’s gone. It’s when he feels the emptiness in his chest. When that place in his chest that connects them is no longer there

“No,” he whispered. Shaking his head. Tears falling onto her beautiful pale face. He held her tighter to his chest. “Stella, please. No, please come back to me, baby. Please, come back.”

But her eyes stayed closed. Her chest stayed still. And that space stayed empty. It hurt. It hurt so fucking back.

And all he could do was scream.

[squidkidnerd]

Man, side order (from a story standpoint) is so frustrating. It's not like rotm, which is such a utter mess that you have to make significant changes to make it even remotely coherent. In Side Order, the ingredients are all there. They nailed the concept down to create a really interesting and unique story... but then they didn't use any of it. Why, Nintendo? Why did we never get to see the effects of grayscaling on any of the actual characters? Why didn't Deep Cut become less energetic and engaging than they usually are in their news broadcasts? Why didn't the same thing happen to the Squid Sisters in Alterna? Hell, why didn't the same thing happen to like Murch and Sheldon or anyone else who had Palettes in the Memverse? Why is Agent 4—man, why did you do Agent 4 so dirty??? It frustrates me so goddamn much, hence why I'm currently working on my own little rewrite of Side Order. I love the concepts it presents (grayscaling in particular has a lot of angst potential... I have been craving a good grayscaling-related angst fic ever since Side Order came out but there has yet to be any), but for some godforsaken reason it doesn't use any of them. Like, why do we have to fight goddamn Smollusk ten times to reconfigure all of the Palettes when we could fight like a weird grayscaled jelleton version of the palette owners instead? That would be so much better! But no 😔

[anxiouspotatorants]

This whole «Lorelai is evil and so is Rory and Emily is the real MVP of the show» shtick is getting on my nerves.

Like don’t misunderstand me, I love Emily and Richard. They are interesting and complex characters with strengths and weaknesses and a whole lot of baggage (like almost everyone in Gilmore Girls, except maybe the Town Troubador). But they aren’t this perfect well meaning couple with an ungrateful daughter who refuses to accept help and grow up.

Lorelai is not perfect either by any stretch of the imagination. She’s presumptuous, stubborn, used to getting her way and struggles to see things from more than one angle, but she’s also kind, hard working, supportive and able to strike a balance between being open and setting boundaries. She’s a complicated, flawed person, like all good protagonists should be (as opposed to heroes). And she doesn’t fight with Emily or cut her parents out because she’s being immature, she’s doing it because they genuinely hurt her several times.

Imagine if things had gone exactly like Emily and Richard wanted things to go. A 16 year old Lorelai would be married against her will to a guy who would likely then spend the rest of his life under the thumb of his parents for the «mistake» of having Rory. Her social life, her work, her education, all of it would be heavily monitored by Emily and Richard, as they would insist she only engage with what they deem respectable work and social circles. Lorelai in the DAR, Lorelai running charity functions, Lorelai staying married to a Hayden. So much of what makes Lorelai herself would be gone: the inn, her friendships with Sookie and Michel, cooky hobbies and a band of semi-adopted misfits and Luke.

Certain people (not many but still some) seem to forget exactly what it is Emily and Richard ultimately criticize Lorelai for, because it’s not her childish remarks at Friday Night Dinner. They criticize her for her lack of university education. For her lack of a high status job even though she runs a successful inn that she co-owns herself. For her terrible pick of men - not because of how they might be as lovers but because they’re not high society and not the kind of wealthy guys who could let Lorelai retire to the life of an affluent housewife (like did we forget that one of the times Lorelai cut them out was because they refused to accept LUKE?). Hell, they usually don’t criticize Lorelai for reasonable issues with how she raised Rory, they criticize her for not controlling Rory’s love life more.

I do think Emily and Richard love Lorelai and Rory, and that at the end of the day they want them to be happy (otherwise none of these characters would fight so hard to stay in each other’s lives). But time and time again they let their love of status and fear of a bad reputation stand in the way of recognizing their daughter and granddaughter for what they love and for what make them happy. Dislike Lorelai all you want, Rory too, but don’t come here and tell me that Emily is the one in the right.

[faaun]

we sang in the aeroplane over the sea tgth ☆