#You are probably WAY more likely to be able to do that safely

[paintedwritings]

But First, The End

Pairing: Azriel x Reader (She/her pronouns used)

Word Count: 10.5k

Summary: A one-night stand with Prythian’s most notorious spy leads to an avalanche of life changing events. 

Warning/Notes: Hoping to make this a mini-series if people are interested! Some talk of anxiety, smutty/adult content, I think it can be categorized as fluff, but there will definitely be some angst eventually because I can’t help myself. Please let me know what you think and if you’d be interested in more parts! Thank you.

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The glimmering purple liquid burned as it raced down her throat, shot number–who even knew– as her hips swayed back and forth, the upbeat music acting as a guide. 

Heat danced across her flesh, pirouetting on every inch of her skin, as her friends pressed closely around her, dancing the night away. Lena–her twin sister, had been the one responsible for tonight. When she learned that her sister had been accepted to intern under the best healer in Velaris, well, she’d wanted to celebrate by taking Y/n out and–apparently– getting her laid, or very drunk, whichever happened first.

She hadn’t given much of a fight, it was rare that she got to enjoy a night out. Usually, she sequestered herself away in her own corner of the world studying herbal remedies and medicinal practices, or doing research on all sorts of plants and carnivorous insects.

“We need more alcohol,” Mari– one of her good friends, called out, not waiting for a response before dragging Lena behind her as they headed for the bar. Y/n watched as the small, fearless seamstress flipped her hair over her shoulder, exposing a small constellation tattoo, and smiled seductively at the bartender. Laughing slightly, Y/n spun on her heels, grateful that her friends were enjoying the night as much as she was.

Vasilisa, her sweet roommate, quickly filled in the gap the other two had left. Smiling softly at a male before she twirled once, the delicate glimmering mesh of her skirt chasing after her thighs. 

“The High Lord’s here tonight,” she giggled, throwing her arms around Y/n’s neck as she danced with her, but kept eye contact with the male just out of view. Perhaps alcohol was, in-fact, not what they needed more of. “And, he looks delicious.”

“He’s mated, Lesa, probably best to pick some other poor soul.” Despite the oddity of Lesa’s drunkenness, she couldn’t help but warm at her friend’s state. 

A small, devilish grin plastered across the girl’s face as she quickly shifted gears, “What about the shadowsinger? He’s not mated and Cauldron, he is scrumptious.”

At this point, Y/n would definitely have to be the one to stop drinking. With Mari and Lena still chatting up the bartender, more drinks appearing and disappearing before they ever left the counter; Lesa all but grinding against her as she mentally undresses the High Lord and the Spymaster of the Night Court; and Peri’s complete disappearance once a beautiful female had shown interest; it was a safe bet that she’d need to make sure everyone got home safely tonight.  

“I have an even better idea, Y/n,” Lesa squealed, her toes bouncing as she gripped both of her arms, big doe eyes pleading. “You should ask him to dance!” Lesa seemed so happy with herself, but she had to hold back the cringe that fought desperately to claw its way free.

She must not have done a good enough job hiding it, because Lesa pouted, “You don’t think he’s hot?” 

Y/n blanched, “No, of course I think he’s hot. I mean he's very tall, and gorgeous, and I like the way his shadows surround him, and I can only imagine what they can do in–” her cheeks flooded with heat that she couldn’t blame on the atmosphere. Good gods, she needed to reattach her tongue to her brain. Clearing her throat, and ignoring Lesa’s growing smirk, “that’s not the point.”

She laughed awkwardly, hoping to change the subject. She certainly wouldn’t be asking him to dance. The male took her breath away, she’d never be able to speak to him, not without clamming up or dying on the spot– the latter more preferrable. 

It was entirely possible that she was a little obsessed with the male, but in a ‘I’ll adore you from behind the scenes and never, ever do anything about it,” kind of obsession. Totally healthy. Not at all going to bite her in the ass.

She just admired him, and well, all of the Inner Circle. They did so much to keep the Night Court safe and an enjoyable place to live. 

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t dance,” Peri spoke as she finally made her reappearance. She took one of the shots that Lena handed her as she and Mari finally made their back, as well. “Besides, you're out of his league,” the purple haired faerie said, shooting her a wink. 

Of all of her friends, Peri understood the anxiety that lingered beneath Y/n’s bones the best. The circumstances that she and Lena had grown up in– they hadn’t been the best and it followed them even now, nearly one hundred years into their lives.

She smiled back at her friend, spinning Lesa into Mari’s arms, the girl gasping at the sudden movement, Lena catching the two barely before they tumbled. Y/n slung an arm around Peri’s shoulders, the two swaying back and forth as she thanked the Mother for her friends.

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The night lived on, the girls tapering off to dance with all kinds of people, the lights switching from flickering rainbow rays, to disco, to low set golden glows. Y/n let the euphoria from adrenaline and excitement drive her body– she had stopped drinking what had to have been hours ago, but she still felt the light thrum in her limbs that made her feel like a cloud, made her feel untouchable. 

By the time midnight rolled around, her feet had started aching in the best ways, her thighs felt like they were on fire, and she could feel dobs of sweat beading her brow. She had danced with her fair share of men and women, but no matter how many times Lena shot her a ‘go for it’ look or Mari gave her a thumbs up, she never lingered for more than a dance.

With all her friends occupied, she made her way out the back exit, needing some fresh air and a glance at the stars. Stargazing had always been a source of comfort for her, it was her mother’s favorite thing to do– and Velaris is the best place to do it. The beautiful dark sky was mixed with deep blues and unnerving black hues that made the stars shimmer like diamonds.

She sighed, resting her back against the brick wall of an alley, taking comfort from the cool texture against her bare skin. Her eyes stayed glued to the sky, but she jolted when she heard a small can knock over a little deeper into the alley. She stood frozen, too confused, and a little scared, to do anything other than watch.

Her breath escaped her quickly, though. She watched a small black tendril of smoke slither out from behind the bin, moonlight gleaming on the silver can as more shadows revealed themselves around it.

They made their way towards her, some of them wrapping around her ankles and running the length of her arms, gooseflesh following swiftly after them. She giggled softly, cooing at the adorable things.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered, utterly enamored by the way they moved, the cool tenderness that they left in their wake. She’d blame the alcohol for her utter lack of awareness, despite feeling completely sober, she was sure it was the only explanation for how she missed their master entirely. “You’re quite cute.”

“That’s not typically how people describe them,” a deep, rough voice spoke from behind her. 

She wasn’t proud of what happened next, but, in her defense, she panicked and instinct took over. 

She screeched, her heels spinning swiftly as she threw her fist at the intruder behind her, all of her small, but mighty force put behind it.  

In hindsight, should she have been able to make an informative guess on who it was? Absolutely. If she had taken even a moment to look at her surroundings: the creatures she was speaking to, or even the bar that the alley they currently stood in lay attached to– she may have chosen a better way to react.

Still, she tried desperately to hold onto all of her brothers’ teachings, it had been years since she’d properly trained or had taken part in any sort of physical combat, so she was a little rusty. 

Her fist collided with a skin, hard. She hadn’t realized how tall the male before her was, her head barely reaching his shoulders, her fist vibrating where it hit the palm of his hand. 

He hadn’t even flinched. A small smile tilting the side of his mouth. She stood frozen, her wrist now encased by a warm, calloused hand as he twisted his grip, gently.

Their eyes locked, his warm hazel gaze taking complete control of her being. Her mouth popped open a little, her eyes wide as she took in the beautiful specimen before her. The quirk of his lips disappeared almost immediately, but he still wore a soft look on his face, it was obvious he was doing his best to not be intimidating. He dropped her wrist without complaint and took a large step backwards, his hands clasping behind his back as he dragged his wings in behind him, making them look smaller.

He cleared his throat, the look on his face giving nothing away, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Her first thought? That he could startle her whenever he wanted to because he’s breathtaking. His short curls lay in dark wisps along his forehead, his eyes glazed with a bewitching twinkle, and his clothes clung tightly to his muscles, nothing left to the imagination. She could see the swirls of his tattoos as a few sat slightly in view beneath his sleeves and open collar.

Finally, finally, she found her voice, it cracked, “Wo-ow, you’re beautiful.” His eyes widened and his mouth hung agape for a short moment, shadows dancing along his shoulders as they thrummed with what looked like giddy-delight. 

Cauldron. Boil. Her.

She cursed herself inwardly, why the hell had she said that? She needed to get out of here, fast. 

“I mean– you aren’t– I’m–” words failed to form, and he just stood and watched, mesmerized, as she floundered, as she crashed and pathetically burned. “I’m so sorry, for punching–oh gods– and for the beautiful–” swallow, “–thing… uh– i’m just gonna,” She pointed her thumb to the door she came through.

“I don’t think–” He started, but quickly stopped when she swore, pulling on the door handle that didn’t so much as budge. She pulled harder, over and over again as embarrassment to the nth degree began washing over her.

She groaned, allowing her upper body to fall against the large door, her forehead resting against the cool metal. Why do these things happen to me?

To all his credit, the shadowsinger just stood back and watched as she slowly unraveled, utter amusement dancing in his eyes. He had never seen anyone fumble so entirely when trying to speak to him. It intrigued him. It certainly had him thinking of ways to make that blush bloom across her cheeks again. 

“Are you alright?” He finally asked, cutting off her repetitive mumblings. Her gaze snapped to his, her head still firmly planted against the door. 

“I should have drank more,” she said to herself before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “I’m peachy,” Was how she responded to him, “thanks for not, you know, killing me for punching you.”

He mouthed the word peachy, as if he had never heard it before, his brows crinkling in the most attractive way. Gods, she really needed to quit staring at him.

She started her walk towards the front of the alley, doing her best to sidestep the large male. He merely turned, allowing her to pass him with plenty of room between them, but he did follow her as she made her way to the front.

“I would hardly call that a punch,” he spoke, a teasing lilt to his tone, “Although, you do move fast, so that’s at least something.”

She gawked at him, “You startled me, if I had been ready, I definitely would have hit you.” She proclaimed, her eyes catching on the shadows that had reattached themselves to her. She smiled at them.

She missed the way Azriel stopped breathing, his gaze snatching onto the smile she gave his shadows, the way she looked at them as if they were something amazing, something worth acknowledging.

He regained his composure, doing his best to shove down his growing need to hear her voice, her laugh. And gods, he wanted to see that blush again, too. 

“An opponent isn’t going to give you the time to get ready,” he pointed out, both of them stopping as they reached the edge of the alley, real life a mere step away.

She narrowed her eyes, calculation and mirth swirling around, “Why exactly were you in the alley anyways?”

He shrugged, a casual gesture that made her heart flutter wildly. She watched as his wings shifted with the motion, the moonlight illuminating them in an ethereal glow, she wanted to reach out and touch them.

Nope.

She held her hands tightly to her sides. If she knew anything about Illyrians, it was that their wings were sacred, and people tended to lose limbs when they touched them uninvited. 

“My shadows were curious about something, I merely followed their lead.” He neglected to mention that they’d slithered to the alley with the pull of a hundred Illyrian men–hell bent on getting their master the.

“There wasn’t anything special in the alleyway,” she spoke, confused. Certainly an old garbage can and littered papers wouldn’t have caught the attention of the spymaster's shadows, would it?

His head tilted sideways, taking her in as if she were a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. As if he were trying to read if she was being truthful, intentional. Whatever he found seemed to satisfy him, though as he lifted his hand, a shadow weaving its way around him, 

“You’re in the alleyway.”

His voice had a low timbre in it, he spoke quietly but firmly, his eyes never shifting from hers as she swallowed. 

She felt her cheeks heat, the warmth bloom across her chest as he looked at her, not a single fiber of her being going unnoticed by the male. No wonder so many people cowered in his presence.

Shaking her head, “I’m nothing special,” her hand flew to the back of her head, nervously patting her hair down as she awkwardly smiled his way. “Maybe they just needed a change in scenery,” she offered.

He hummed, “May I ask why you were in the alley? You seemed to be having fun on the dance floor.” She balked. He had seen her? Her mind had to be suffering from whiplash because there was no way this was actually happening. 

“I just needed some air, to watch the stars for a bit.” When he hummed again, she realized that he must not be much of a talker, but the silence she found them in wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable, it felt… safe, kind of like a fresh breeze of air on a hot day, or a warm bath after a hard day’s work. And, she supposed it made sense that he would talk much, he was the Spymaster, after all.

“I’m Y/n, by the way,” He repeated her name back, a thick, intoxicating sound as it fell from his lips. His tongue flicked across his top lip as if he were chasing the word. She wanted to chase the movement, her eyes tracking it like a hound. 

“Azriel,” he offered back, though both of them knew it was just a formality. Of course she already knew his name. 

“Would it be alright if I bought you a drink?” Did she hear a nervous pulse in his words? “To make up for startling you and interrupting your star gazing?”

She froze, did he actually just ask her out? Well, not out, but to have a drink with him? These were the kinds of things she needed her friends around for, how in the Mother's name was she supposed to know what to do. 

She thought about Lesa, and what she’d said earlier about asking him to dance. Lesa, despite her alcohol consumption, was usually the most leveled headed of them. It’s what was going to make her a great healer one day. She knew about the kind of men Y/n typically found herself gravitating towards. She knew that it was unlikely she’d ask anyone to dance unless they gave her a reason to. Did she know something about Azriel that she didn’t?

She’d have to remember to bring it up tomorrow, once Lesa had her head on straight again. But, at that moment, she decided that she could do this. She could be spontaneous and have fun. 

“I would love that,”

Besides, it was one drink, what could possibly happen?

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One drink had turned into two, and two had quickly turned into three the longer the night went on. She and Azriel had danced for what felt like hours. Eventually they’d found their to a table, just the two of them talking and laughing, sharing stories. She did most of the talking, the male drawing words and memories out of her with no problem at all. He always hummed and asked questions at the right times, he listened in a way that made her think he was far too interested in her, but it was…nice. 

She hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten, but as she did a sweep of the room, she realized a lot of the patrons had left for the night. Even Mari and Lesa had waved at her as they left. 

Her gaze locked with her twin’s from across the dance floor, she slowly sipped from a pink drink, Peri sitting at the bar with her as they chatted. Lena raised a brow at Y/n. She didn’t need twin telepathy to know what she was asking, are you coming home with us, or going home with him?

She sent a glare her sister's way, knowing Lena had a preference for which option she chose. Honestly, Y/n knew better, though. Ignoring her sister only spurred her on. Which was why, now, Lena and Peri were making their way to the two of them, a shit eating grin on the former's face.

“Y/n,” She cooed, sitting down on her chair and placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. 

Azriel’s eyes snapped to Lena’s, then quickly to Peri, assessing and putting information together that she’d slowly given him over the past few hours.

“Peri and I are leaving, we have that very important thing to do tomorrow, as you know,” A very ‘subtle’ wink, “We don’t want to leave without you.” She pouted. “It’s so dangerous out there.”

Before Y/n could respond, Azriel cut in smoothly, “I could take you home.” The blush she’d been trying so hard to keep down all night ignited beneath her skin. 

Peri rolled her eyes as Lena clapped, “What a wonderful idea, who better to get her home safely than the Night Court’s Spymaster, himself.” 

She could have sworn Azriel smiled into his drink, clearly catching on to Lena’s antics. She shot an apologetic face towards him. He merely smiled at her, causing her breath to hitch.

“You don’t have to do that, I’m sure you’re busy.” She spoke quietly. Her eyes casting down toward the near-full drink she’d been sipping for the last hour. 

“I’m not. And, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” All three women stared at him, the sheer honesty in his tone casting them in stone. The fact that he wanted to spend more time with her and didn’t care that she and her friends knew. It started chipping away at the obsession, and started morphing into something much scarier.

Lena made a noise mixed between utter fascination and ooey-gooey sweetness. The arm hooked around her shoulders was used to swing her around swiftly, bringing her eye to eye with her twin, the startling gray color of their eyes meeting her own. 

“Make good choices,” She waggled her brows and flicked the zipper of her top down a millimeter more, revealing more cleavage.

“Lena!” She hissed. Hands automatically moving to cover herself. She didn’t zip it back up.

She winked, backing up to a laughing Peri. “good choices” she merely mouthed. 

Y/n looked towards Azriel, afraid of what he’d think of this whole show. Her eyes widened, he had a pink blossoming along his cheeks, a bashful expression briefly taking hold of his face before it turned into something more–deeper. 

As Lena turned towards the exit, her arm grappling Peri’s, she faced Azriel, “If anything happens to her, if she comes back with so much as a scratch,” she spoke cooly, “I’ll gut you from scrote to throat, capiche?”

She tossed a clean napkin at her sister, “I’m fine, go.”  Horrified that she had just threatened the freaking spymaster of the Night Court. One of the most infamous fae warriors in Prythian.

Something like appreciation flashed in his eyes, though. Instead of threatening her back, or using his title against her, he merely reached his hand out–covered in a black leather glove.

“I’ll protect her with my life.” Lena stood straighter, hesitantly reaching for his hand to shake it. Despite the glove, some sort of magic seemed to breathe new life into the world. An ebony vine wrapped its way along Lena’s wrist, bleeding flowers encasing the thin band, a matching one covering his own. 

She stared at their wrists, surprise flickering through her. Weren’t those kinds of promises…permanent? Why in the gods' names would he make a promise like that? He hardly knew her. Then again, she supposed it was sweet and comforting that a member of her home’s Inner Circle cared so much about the safety of their citizens.

Because that’s definitely all this could be about. 

Her sister and friend left quickly after that. And not long after that, Azriel paid the tab– refused to accept any of her money– and had wrapped his jacket around her shoulders. The fabric drifted over her arms, completely engulfing her frame and covering her thighs half-way.

She found herself close to Azriel, clinging to his warmth, as they made their way down the cobblestone street. Moon glimmering against the stone and street signs, casting the area in a deep, evanescent glow. 

Azriel walked at a slow pace, no doubt to keep up with her heeled steps. One of his hands hooked into his pocket, the other one – the one closest to hers– lay still at his side. She had a sneaking suspicion it was in case she decided to hold his hand. Heat blossomed in her stomach at the thought.

Lena had told her to make good choices. She had no doubt that meant to have fun, to allow herself some flexibility. She wasn’t sure of much when it came to this male, but she knew that she liked him and everything she’d learned about him tonight.

She knew she didn’t want the night to end, not yet.

“Will you take a detour with me?” She asked abruptly, effectively ending the calm silence. She could smell the salty air of the Sidra, a cool air rushing its way through the strands of her hair, his shadows stuck to her like sweetgum balls. 

He looked ethereal in the light of the moon, his unmatched beauty enrapturing her wholly. She hadn’t been able to look away from him for more than a moment the whole night.. His canines flashed briefly as he smirked, and then he hooked his pinky in hers, the gloves he had been wearing all night smooth against her skin.

She laughed as he spun her around, her heels clicking against the sidewalk.

“Lead the way,”

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They walked along the colorful sidewalk, crystal water filling the Sidra, the waves lulling softly in the calm of the night. 

Azriel had started opening up, slowly, telling her about his family, his job– or at least a pg version– and his interests. She clung to his every word, so grateful that he’d been willing to share parts of his private life. Their hands slowly grew closer, fingers finding their way together, his hand squeezing hers when it finally rested in his. 

She smiled softly at him, his eyes catching on her mouth. Thankfully, he couldn’t see the blush that always appeared when she looked at him too long. The whipping wind blasting her cheeks with frigid, frost coated air. 

Looking up at the stars glittering in the sky, “My mother loved the stars,” she spoke softly. She admired a mixture of constellations and a magical aurora– beautiful hues of golden orange, blushing pink, and enchanted, deep purple blending together. 

“She used to say that the stars were proof that the small moments in life are just as magnificent as the big ones.” 

She watched the stars, but he watched her. 

Meeting his hazel eyes, close enough to see the warm, green flecks that dusted his irises, she couldn’t help but move closer. Later, in the comfort of her home, she might say it’s because the wind was brutal, and his body offered her more heat than his jacket ever could. But, right here, right now? She simply wanted to follow that tugging in her chest, a sensation that led her straight to him.

His hand slowly drifted up her, following her outline before it settled against her cheek. He swallowed, “She sounds like a very wise woman,” He finally answered. His thumb lazily rubbed the skin along her jaw, allowing her ample opportunities to stop him if she wished.

She did not wish. In fact, she wanted to feel his skin against hers, and she couldn’t do it by holding his hands.

Instead she raised onto her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her middle, holding her steady against him. “What are you up to?” He murmured, a sweet look on his face as he moved a piece of her hair from her face. “Gods, you’re beautiful,” her body stiffened, he hadn’t meant to speak that aloud, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, not when she smiled like that.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” He vowed, his eyes glued to her lips, he only waited long enough for her to nod her agreement before his lips descended onto her.

She didn’t have even a moment to freak out, to second-guess, because one second he was leaning into her and the next his lips were on hers and–

 She. Stopped. Breathing. 

His lips were warm and soft, but also firm and perfect. The hand that was attached to the arm not securing her to him found its way to her cheek, cupping her softly. Her hands wound their way into his hair, a sigh escaping her as he kept kissing her, his tongue flicking across her lower lip.

This man didn’t simply kiss, he devoured, he took everything that she offered and more. His tongue danced along her mouth, and when his fingers grappled the ends of her hair, tugging just-so, she gasped, her mouth opening just enough for him to slip in. 

He deepened the kiss.

The small noises she made were consumed by his lips as they bubbled in the back of her throat, her legs somehow winding up around his waist, holding her up so he no longer had to bend so far. And through it all, he kept kissing her. Both his hands holding her back to keep her right where he wanted her. His tongue tangled with hers as his shadows ran along her neck, her exposed back, and her legs. The cool sensations doing unholy things to her senses as they mixed with the pure male heat of him.

Her hands pulled on his silky strands, pressing her chest, somehow, even further into his. Her body angled more above him, as he groaned, a sound she swore she could live off of. His canines flashed, a smirk dancing along his lips before she crashed her mouth back onto his, she wanted to taste every bit of him. His minty breath, the sweat beading his brow, the simple taste of his skin–could be her undoing. 

And oh golly, her skin tingled, her lips dancing with anticipation as he pulled away. His forehead falling against hers, his eyes so dark she wondered if she’d imagined the hazel of them all throughout the night. 

Their breaths came out in soft spurts, the cold night air bringing them to life around them as they stayed close. Her legs still wrapped around him, holding her to him, careful of his wings that seemed to flare whenever he lost some of his undiluted control.

“That was– you are–” He stopped, his lips trailing a path from her neck to her jaw and up her cheek before landing on the corner of her lips. Those glorious teeth scraping along her skin. She wanted him to bite her, to leave marks so she could remember this in the morning.

Maybe tomorrow–or for the rest of her life, let’s be honest– she’d daydream about how she’d turned this man into a puddle of words with just her mouth, gods knew he’d done that to her. But, right now? Right now she wanted nothing more than to feel more of him. To feel all of him.

“Can I take you home?” His voice came out breathy, still pressing sweet kisses along her skin, anywhere he could find. 

“That depends,” she cooed, moving her head back and baring her neck so he had better access. “My home or yours?”

She could feel that smile as it lifted his lips, his soft kisses on her throat making her lose any sense of understanding.

He rephrased, “Come home with me?” 

And how could she possibly say no to that?

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Azriel’s room was everything she could have pictured it being. Dark, neat, and not a single item that screamed “I’m Azriel, this is my space,” unless she counted the wall of knives and weapons. But she imagined that had more to say about how he was a spymaster, not the man himself.

They’d come in through his balcony, the glass doors pristinely shining as the moonlight cast onto them, giving his room the same aura as its dweller– dark and mysterious, but oh, so sexy. 

His bed lay in the middle, large enough to house someone with wings, and the dark linens neatly placed atop them were calling her name. A crackling fire lit the stone laden fireplace on the far end, books stacked neatly on a desk that was filled with papers and organized writing quills. 

She didn’t have time to dwell further on her surroundings, though. Not as Azriel pressed his front to her back, the evidence of his arousal chanting her name like a prayer. His gloves had come off, his calloused hands tracing the skin on her arm slowly.

“Are you still with me?” He whispered, his teeth grazing the tip of her ear. Shivers ran down her spine as she spun towards him, her hands finding their place on his forearms. 

“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes already on his lips. She had no qualms with what this was. She knew. This was one night. One amazing, probably will ruin sex with anyone else ever again, night. And she was okay with that. Lena had told her to have fun, to make good choices, and she couldn’t imagine what was a better choice than this. Than him.

His lips quirked up, lust pooling in his deep hazel, near black eyes. As he leaned down, his hands found their way to the zipper on her dress as his mouth met her shoulder, a trail of saliva following her bone. 

Her hands trailed up his arms– right over his new tattoo, and then skated down his front, finding the band of his pants, she slipped them under his shirt. A pleased sound coming from his throat as her hands travelled the length of his torso, the beautifully crafted skin hot beneath her needy touch. 

In no time her dress pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a cute deep sapphire lace bralette set– she thanked every god that she had thought to put on a matching set. Her heels were already discarded somewhere she couldn’t bring herself to care about right now. Not as his lips finally made their way back to hers. He tasted her wholly, his large hands touching her everywhere, her back, her arms, her stomach, her ass. She preened at his attention.

“You’re beautiful,” he said again, his lips never leaving hers as her hands finally got tired of their fabric confines. “Fucking gorgeous,” he growled. As he lifted her without absolutely no effort at all, depositing her softly onto his bed as he leaned over her. His dark locks falling over his face, she couldn’t stop her hand from pushing them back, his beautiful face cast in soft golden light from the fireplace. 

He leaned down, his lips brushing hers as his hand found her breast. Her back arched as he plucked her nipple with his fingers through the thin fabric. His other hand massaging her other breast languidly. Then his mouth, his magnificent mouth, fell to the fabric as he sucked her in. She couldn’t stop the noises that came out of her as he continued his ministrations. All she could do was throw her head back, hold his hair in her grip, and hope she didn’t topple off the edge of this world. 

“Azriel,” she breathed, “please,” her eyes blown out with lust as the heat in her belly stirred and writhed with every touch, every look.

He smirked, flashing those canines she had an unhealthy fascination with, “Already begging and I haven’t even touched you the way I’ve been wanting to all night,” His tongue flicked between her breasts as he unhooked the small clasp in front, letting them spill out. 

Any other time she may be embarrassed, or try and cover, but one look at Azriel, and she knew she didn’t need to. He looked at her like he wanted to ravish her, like he could live off of touching her.

“You’re breathtaking, I thought it when I saw you dancing, and the Mother knows I can’t stop thinking it now,” he spoke, such utter candor in his voice–just like when he’d told her there was nowhere else he’d rather be– it made her breath catch. 

She imagined that Azriel was not an easy male to get over. So she’d just need to get under him.

A blush took over her cheeks, but she managed a breathy, “Off,” a plea, really. As she tried to lift his shirt. He chuckled, a sexy, deep sound that went straight to her core. The next moment his shirt was off, and then somehow, his pants. 

She was sure saliva had to be coming out of her mouth because this man. He was a work of art, he definitely bordered on an eight pack, small cuts and scars lined his torso and only made him more attractive. His golden skin looked iridescent in the light, his tattoos swirling all around his arms and chest. Shadows danced along her peripheral vision, not quite touching, but observing as if they wanted to. She wanted them to.

She felt her tongue as it involuntarily flicked her bottom lip, her teeth catching it in the same place. Azriel didn’t miss the motion, his eyes turning a molten color that set every nerve in her body aflame. Her hands were everywhere, running the length of his torso, his sides, she steered clear of his wings, but damn, she’d be dreaming of them for years to come. They splayed out magnificently as he loomed over her, neither of them touching the bed, they cocooned her in a way that made her feel safe, and guarded.

They were both in only their underwear now, “We can stop whenever you want,” he spoke softly, earnestly. His gaze caught hers to emphasize that he meant it, if she wanted to stop–despite being able to feel him against her leg, feel how much he wanted her– he’d back off, bring her home. And well, that gave her the warm and fuzzies, and only cemented how much she wanted this. Wanted him.

Sitting up on her elbows, her hair falling over her shoulders, she hooked one of her legs around his waist, catching him off guard as she repositioned them. Now she sat astride him, her hands landing on his pecs as his hands found her hips. 

She leaned forwards, her breasts flush with his bare chest as she kissed her way down his body. She started near his ear, whispering, “I want to hear more about what you’ve wanted to do to me all night,” she bit down, just slightly, catching his lobe. Then she kissed his jaw, a trail of warm kisses down his neck, his chest, his abs, his navel. Her hand found its way to his boxers, the tight black fabric hiding very little of his very large member. A little part of her wondered how this would work, she was not a virgin by any means, but it had been a good couple of months, and he– gods, he was impressive in all the best ways.

The sound that came out of him was purely male as she continued her movements, his hands tightening enough that she knew they’d leave bruises. Good. She wanted to remember this–in any way she could. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he said it so low she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right, but then he was sitting up, his arms wrapping around her middle to keep her from toppling off of him. 

His lips met hers as he ground into her, their underwear left little to the imagination and she stopped caring about the noises that came out of her. She just let herself go, let him take her fully.

His mouth met her nipple, his teeth plucking softly, but so sweetly. Her back bowed into him, her hands flying to his hair as she held on for dear life. He suckled and nipped and licked her breasts, the heat pooling low in her belly as she continued to grind on him. 

“Oh, gods–Az,” she spluttered, doing her best to hold on to what little scrap of sanity she had left. He didn’t bend, though, no–he flipped her over, her back hitting the plush mattress once more, her ass coming to kiss the edge of the bed as he kneeled on the floor before her.

Her knees fell open on either side of his body, the cool air rushing against her as his shadows locked themselves around her body. One wrapped around waist, and two on her ankles, keeping her in the exact position their master wanted. 

His eyes caught hers, only for a brief moment, he flashed the sexiest grin and then bent down, placing a soft, reverent kiss to her center over her panties. And somehow, despite all that they’d already done, that was the sexiest, most obliterating part of this whole ordeal. 

Her body tried to move, tried to get closer as he chuckled, clearly enjoying her struggles against his helpers as they kept her locked in place. 

“Now, now, pretty,” he cooed, “Be a good girl and keep making all those sweet noises for me,” Oh, she so wanted to be his good girl, she wanted to be his everything right now. 

Slowly, so freaking slowly, he pulled her panties down, baring her fully to him. He didn’t waste any time, and she cried out as his mouth finally closed over her most intimate part. He kissed and licked and suckled her into nothingness. His tongue flattening over her, his lips catching that sensitive nub and sucking, then his tongue was inside of her. He groaned at her taste, his hands splaying across her thighs and holding on. She could feel him grinding himself against the mattress, chasing any sort of friction he could without losing himself entirely.

She was careening towards that edge so swiftly, she truly stood no chance once he started adding fingers. He filled her with one, his tongue never letting up on its pace as he glided his digit in and out of her smoothly. His eyes met hers, and whatever he saw, he must have liked, because then he was adding a second finger, that wicked smile on display as he licked one stripe straight up her center.

Her body tried to buck, to chase the feeling but she couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything except hold onto the mattress for dear life. 

She chanted his name over and over, it seemed to be the only word she could remember. Especially as he added a third finger, and they curled in just the right place, as his tongue swirled around her center, his teeth grazing the flesh. 

She came so hard, her legs were visibly shaking where they lay sprawled apart on the bed. His shadows finally relented as she arched, her hands immediately finding his hair, his shoulders, anything of his she could touch. She thinks he offered one of his hands, the calloused skin squeezing her own soft ones to keep her grounded. 

Then he loomed over her again, his lips shining with her desire as he licked them, then she watched, his eyes never straying from hers, as he sucked each of his digits into his mouth, drinking all of her in. 

She thought she might actually come again just from the sight. Never had a guy gone down on her and seemed to so thoroughly enjoy the process. Gods, this male, he really was going to ruin any other men for her. 

Worth it.

His lips met hers in a harsh dance, his fingers gripping her chin upwards so he could fully devour her. She found herself latching onto the band of his underwear and ripping, she had no time to waste trying to get them off safely. She simply didn’t care, she needed him, like yesterday. 

He chuckled, a sound she was getting awfully familiar with, but didn’t stop her as she just threw the pieces of fabric somewhere in his room. Then her hand found his cock, thick and throbbing as she pumped him once, twice. He groaned, his head falling against hers as she swiped the head, collecting the precum that had already begun leaking.

“Fuck, Y/n,” His lips finding her neck as he latched on, sucking and licking. 

She kept her pace, loving the feel of him in her hand. Then she positioned him at her entrance, their eyes meeting, one final confirmation nod from her and he was moving. 

She tensed for only a moment, the feeling of being so full not something she’s used to. But he went slow, entered her slowly, allowed her to adjust as he went in glorious inch by glorious inch. 

They were both breathing hard, she kept saying his name, he cursed under his breath as he did his best to not rut into her like a teenager chasing his first high. And gods, it was a high because he felt so good inside of her. Nothing could compare to this moment, how she felt.

Then his hips were flushed with hers, his body coming to a complete standstill as he watched her, his fingers pushing her hair out of her face, tracing the outline of her lips, her jaw. 

“You still with me, pretty?” He spoke softly, as if speaking any louder may break whatever bubble they’d built around themselves. 

“Yes, fuck, yes,” she breathed out. Her body doing its best to adjust to the sheer size and girth of him. He kissed her through it, his lips finding space on all of the bare skin he could reach. Even his shadows seemed to caress her softly, cooing and guiding her through the motions. 

“Please, Az, move,” she swirled her hips in emphasis, catching the moan he let out with her mouth as he finally moved. His hips pulled out halfway and then he pushed back in slowly at first, gauging her reaction. When she mewled, her nails scraping his back, he did it again, faster. He kept a steady pace as she felt their liquids combining, oozing out of her in the most delicious way. 

He kept a steady rhythm, their moans meeting in the air and dancing together as they continued to move together in sync. Her legs wrapped around his middle, getting him even deeper, and when she came the second time, it was just a good as the first.

“So beautiful,” he cooed, “So fucking tight, milking my cock so good,” He hit that spot deep inside of her as he cooed her name, his grunts filling her ears in tandem with his thrusts. Her lips found his and he obeyed her request, his tongue meeting hers and tangling, their saliva mixing as one of his hands gripped her waist, the other finding its way to her face. 

When the aftershocks finally started to ebb away, Azriel wasted no time in flipping her over, her knees and hands on the mattress, her ass in the air. She let out a noise of distress when his cock slipped out of her, but it was quickly followed by a moan as he reentered her from behind. 

And holy trinity of all the gods, he was somehow deeper inside of her, she could feel every pleasure inducing inch of him as he lost all of his control. He pounded into her, his hands on her hips as she did her best to meet him thrust for thrust.

She couldn’t believe it, she could already feel that pool of desire growing in her for the third time tonight. Her sounds no more than a slew of moans and expletives as he continued his brutal thrusts. 

“Fuck, you’re doing so good, that’s it–” he praised, his hand pulling her hair away from her neck as his chest became flush with her back. His other hand found that sensitive nub between her thighs, pinching and flicking in the most torturous ways. “You can give me another one, can’t you, pretty?” He asked, his voice a husky sheen in her ear as his thrusts continued to wreak havoc on her. “Just one more, I know you can do it,” she had never been one for dirty talk, but fuck, Azriel could talk about grocery shopping and she’d find it hot as hell.

The praise only brought her closer to that edge, coaxing her on. And when his fingers added just enough pressure to her center, she fell right over that edge for the third time, her orgasm causing her legs to shake so wholly that Azriel had to hold her up as he continued to thrust into her. A cocky, but proud smile lighting his face briefly before pleasure took root and he came inside of her, his cock throbbing and swelling as he spilt rope after rope of his seed into her.

They stayed that way for a long moment, it could have been minutes or hours, Y/n wouldn’t be able to tell even if there were a knife to her throat. His naked, sweat beaded chest pressing against her back as their harsh breathing filled the room’s silence. 

He finally slipped out of her, his hands slowly lowering her onto her stomach, her legs nothing but jelly as he flipped onto his side, careful of his wings. 

Their gazes collided, a sexed-out smile slapping its way to her mouth as she took him in. His own smile found its way onto his face, just a small, intimate one that made her heart do dangerous flips inside her chest.

“That was–” she started, her breathy voice sounded as ruined as she felt.

“Fucking amazing.” He finished, his hand reaching out to push a piece of hair that had fallen over her eyes, behind her ear. Then he kissed her forehead, his arm slinging over her back. 

“Stay.” He murmured, his eyes already closing as sleep began to take him hostage.

Once again, she found herself unable to say no to this man. Her eyelids already heavy with her own sleep, drifted shut. She briefly recognized the feeling of a blanket being dropped over her, maybe his shadows? She didn’t have time to question before sleep finally claimed her.

✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧

Y/n woke to soft beams of sunlight trickling across her face through the balcony doors. The warmth seeped into her skin as her eyes adjusted to the light. 

It took her a moment to remember where she was. An unfamiliar, but comfortable, bed caressed her body. Her body completely naked where she lay against the comforter, a small throw blanket had been placed over her to keep her warm in the night.

And then, there was the weight.

A large, muscled arm thrown over her waist, an even heavier leg pressed between her thighs, their legs tangled. His body was warm and the limbs attached to her only kept her close to the male she found herself facing. His beautiful face somehow less intimidating in sleep, all the smooth lines and fine angles completely at ease. 

Azriel.

The Spymaster of the Night Court.

Her eyes widened as last night's events all came flooding back in troves. Azriel finding her in the alleyway, her sister and friends, Azriel dancing with her, her internship, Azriel and his glorious kissing, his hands, his shadows, and his body. 

Fuck. 

She needed to leave. She wasn’t sure how this was supposed to work, but she was damn sure it’d be awkward if he woke up and she was still here. In his bed. 

She briefly remembered him telling her to stay, but surely he hadn’t meant through the morning. She highly doubted that he was about to invite her to lunch with his family. 

His family.

Oh, gods.

Did they live here? Had they heard them last night? If she hadn’t been so caught up in the shadowsinger, she may have stopped to ask herself about these things, but nope. Instead she fell head over freaking tea kettle and– admittedly– had the best sex of her life. 

She needed to leave, like hours ago.

She ignored the sweet caresses of his shadows as they welcomed her with a morning that, any other time, she’d be thrilled about. But right now she needed to figure out how to get out from under his arm, and his leg, and was that his wing cocooning over them? 

Somehow, an act of the Mother and Cauldron themselves, she managed to disentangle herself from his monkey hold. He really did seem peaceful, and she did her best to remain quiet, not because she didn’t want to speak to him– although that may have definitely been a factor– but because she didn’t want to disturb his sleep, who knew how much he got on a regular basis. In his line of work, she imagined, not much.

Quietly she peeled around the room, grabbing her dress and quickly shimmying it on and grabbing her heels. Fuck putting those bitches back on, last night Y/n was not this morning Y/n, and her feet would thank her for it. 

She slowly slipped out of his room, not sure how she was going to get out of this place. He had flown them last night, brought her in through his balcony. Surely there had to be a front door. The last thing she wanted to be doing was roaming around the Inner Circle’s private dwelling, she imagined that was how one ended up on the wrong side of jail cell. 

She gulped, taking in the hallways around her. There were loads of paintings adorning the brilliant, sophisticated walls. All of the members of the Inner Circle in various positions. There were some of just the General Commander and his mate, Lady Death. There were some of the High Lord and Lady with their adorable son, and even a few of the lesser talked about members. They were beautifully done, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the High Lady had probably painted these herself. 

She had been so caught up in looking at the photos along the hallway, following them unconsciously that she jumped when somebody cleared their throat. 

She flailed, horrendously. Heels thrown in the air, her feet slipping from beneath her as she swiveled around and came face to chest with a very large male. She would have fallen on her ass if he hadn’t grabbed her arm to steady her. Her eyes tracked all the way up his leather-clad chest and to his large membranous wings that somehow seemed slightly different than Azriel’s. Were there scars on his? And, were they smaller? She shook her head, so not important.

“Well, hello there,” he crooned, a crooked grin lighting the General Commander’s features as he used a leather strap to bind his hair in a bun atop his head. 

She cursed herself inwardly, gods, she really needed to work on her observation skills. How had she missed him of all people? He was definitely the largest of the three illyrian men who belonged to the Inner Circle. And, he had always seemed like the most approachable, though that wasn’t saying much. He was still absolutely terrifying.

And here she was, staring at him with her mouth agape like a fish out of water. Perhaps she should take her chances with the balconies after all, maybe a free fall would do her some good right about now.

“Hi,” she squeaked, quickly grabbing her flyaway shoes and holding them to her chest like a lifeline. 

“You must be Az’s…friend,” he said, a knowing smirk on his face. She could feel her blush as it crawled from the tips of her toes to her cheeks. 

She swallowed, trying to take this gift from the Mother. The general had wings, which meant he could probably get her out of here without causing too much trouble, she doubted he’d tell her no. Plus, that meant she really wouldn’t have to face Azriel again, so a bonus, at least, that’s what she told herself. 

“He’s sleeping,” Cassian’s brows rose at that, a look of shock briefly flitting across his face before his easy demeanor was back. 

“That is–interesting. Were you joining us for breakfast?” 

“No–” She calmed herself, reigning in the slight shout she’d let through in all her panic. “I mean– no, I’m not. I just– I’m trying to get home, I’ve got a busy day and I’m not quite sure how–”

“Ah,” he said, that ridiculous smirk still plastered on his smug face. “Too bad, Azriel doesn’t usually have…sleepovers.”

Sleepovers? What were they, twelve? 

She gave her best smile, “Is there any chance you could show me the way out?”

“You’re not going to wait for him to wake up?” He cocked his head, his tone full of confusion, as if this wasn’t something he’d ever had to deal with. 

She shook her head, “He looked peaceful, and I really need to get home, my roommate’s probably worried sick.”

Understanding bloomed on his face, “Well, there are two options then, little ghost,” her brows pinched at the nickname. This male didn’t know her from Adam, and yet, he seemed so incredibly warm and kind. She chastised herself, it didn’t matter, she would probably never speak to him again. “You can either venture down the 10,000 steps to the bottom,” he laughed at the sour look that crossed her face, her poor, poor feet. “Or, I can fly you back home, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“That would be wonderful, as long as it doesn’t put you out,” she said, praying to every god she could remember the name of that he truly didn’t mind. 

His smile was easy. “It’s no trouble, I’ll even tell Azriel you said goodbye.”

“That’s really not necessary,” she blushed as he led her toward an opened foyer, large balconies lining the room. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do,” and she was also sure that Azriel wouldn’t care. They’d had their night of fun, now she needed to get out of here and try and go about her life like normal. Whatever that meant, she really wasn’t sure that’d even be possible. 

He merely smiled at her, something was off about it though, as if he didn’t really believe her.

But, he did as he said and flew her home.

It was time to get back to normal life, she had a lot going for her. And the Spymaster of the Night Court didn’t have anything to do with it.

✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧

Weeks passed in a blur, between her internship starting and her ordinarily chaotic life, she had hardly had time to think about her night with the spymaster. He only ever found her in his dreams, and if she was lucky, her subconscious would grant her some of the memories of that night in dream form. 

She hadn’t so much as seen him in the past six weeks, she tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter, that it was only one night and she should accept that for what it is– and she did. For the most part. But, sometimes, in the wee hours of the morning, when her thoughts were just a little more hostile, she would think about him, and what he’d thought when he woke up that day and she’d been gone. Had he been upset? Or had he been relieved? And why had Cassian seemed so sure that he’d see her again? He had even winked at her when he dropped her off that morning. Weird. 

“Take this twice a day for a week and the rash should clear right up,” She spoke to a short, mousy looking female. The nuclear green liquid sloshing around in the vial as the woman thanked her and scurried away after tossing her a few coins. 

Madja came out of the back room, “Y/n, can you help me in here for a moment?”

Without hesitation, she quickly wiped her hands on her apron and followed Madja to the back. She felt her stomach sink as the older fae led her silently into the main medicine bay. She had asked Madja a few weeks ago about some medicines that could help with stress-induced nausea. It didn’t matter what she brewed, if it was a personal concoction or one out of one of her textbooks, none of them seemed to be helping. She only ever got sick in the evenings, and at this point, she was starting to get worried that something was seriously wrong. So she’d asked Madja, and the older fae had said she’d look into it and make her something that should help. 

Y/n couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what this was about, she had said it wouldn’t take long and that had been only two days ago. But, when y/n found herself in the furthest room in the back of the building, her thoughts quickly emptied out.

A young girl sat on the seat, her arm full of what looked to be glass shards. The other arm, sat gently in medicated water, blood pooling in thin layers as it soaked.

Y/n’s stomach lurched, the girl couldn’t have been older than nine or ten, and the wounds looked awfully painful.

“I need you to apply the salve and wrap this arm while I start working on getting the glass out of the other arm,” Madja spoke, handing a pair of gloves to her as she quickly made her way back over to the young girl. Her mother was pacing back and forth as she watched. Y/n shot her a soothing smile, the best she could manage, the one she’d learned specifically for this reason. It seemed to work, long enough for the mother to sit down, but she kept her eyes trained on them. Y/n couldn’t blame her, she could only imagine what a mother went through when seeing their child in pain.

“Hi,” she spoke softly to the girl, “My names Y/n, you’re gonna feel a cooling sensation when I apply the salve, it shouldn’t hurt, but if it does, just let me know and we’ll adjust,” She smiled, the little girl’s lip wobbled as tears silently streamed down her cheeks. 

As she began applying the medicine softly, her ministrations smooth and practiced, she asked the girl for her name, hoping that talking to her would keep her mind off of Madja, who was currently taking glass shards out of her other arm. 

“Margo,” she spoke, her eyes solely focused on y/n. “I was trying to help momma at her food stall, but I tripped.” She sniffled. 

“Ah,” she hummed, quietly grabbing the wraps, “Do you help out at the food stall, often?” 

“Yes!” Margo lit up, she began babbling on about all the different fruits and veggies her mother grows and how they always wash and prep them for stall day. She asked the young girl about school, her family–her siblings, and anything else she could to keep the young girl’s mind occupied. 

Over the course of the next half hour, Madja and her worked tediously to apply the salves, soak the wounds, and get them wrapped so that they could start healing. With a vial of cream and a lollipop in her hand, Margo danced out of the clinic with her mother, her smile never leaving her face. 

“You did well, keeping her calm.” Madja spoke, her tone even as always as she worked behind the counter. 

“Thanks, I can only imagine what she must have been thinking,”

It was then that Madja handed her a few vials of a pinkish, red liquid. The confusion must have been written all over her face because the older fae prattled on, “That should help with the morning sickness, but I can’t guarantee that it will make it go away entirely.”

Every thought blinked out of Y/n’s head.

Morning sickness?

“It’s not–” Madja stopped when she interrupted, her eyes blinking uncontrollably as she tried to do the math in her head, “It can’t be–” she stuttered.

There was no way, absolutely not. 

She hadn’t been with anyone in months, no one except–

Him. 

“I got your blood work back today,” Madja had taken her blood a few days ago when she had initially brought up the nausea, just in case, she had said. It was standard procedure, something Y/n was very familiar with having worked in all sorts of clinics for the past few decades.

No, no, no.

“You’re pregnant.”

[revelboo]

*makes my swarm of bug children watch Miss Spider's Sunny Patch so that they have strong positive role models who are like them*

idk I've just veen thinking for a while about how the decepticons (and some of the autobots tbf) would feel about their sparklings growing up on media that is very pro-talking-it-out and just very anti-combative in general lol

🤣 The bugsbands are just horrified at children’s cartoons

Sensitivity

Insecticons x Reader

• Hissing to find you sitting on the floor with the swarm around you watching that colorful garbage on the TV you’d wanted, Bombshell shakes his head. You’re singing along as you hold the runt’s tiny hands to make the little one dance in your lap. It’s like they’re all hypnotized, the sparklings warbling along. “You’re ruining them,” Bombshell snarls tiredly in disgust. And you sing louder. Ignoring him as you poison the swarm with this. Singing about friendship and sharing. “They’re Insecticons.”

• “They’re half human,” you singsong, pressing a kiss against the top of Benji’s helm to make him chirp, peds kicking. Because if your cannibal husbands have their way, your toddlers would be fighting to the death for supremacy. Probably while your husbands make bets on who survives. And you’re not thinking about how bloodthirsty they are, pushing that reality into the back of your mind. “And there’s nothing wrong with learning how to talk out problems instead of just beating the crap out of each other.” Or eating each other.

• “Little queen always wants to talk, talk,” Shrapnel growls as he stalks in, lip curling at what you’re making their offspring watch. And he bends to seize the biggest sparkling by a leg, the youngling shrieking as Shrapnel bares his denta with a hiss. Pleased when the youngling hisses back, swinging his tiny hands, servos clawing at the air and wings buzzing. Several other sparklings watch, their antenna back and wary. A few hissing uncertainly. Don’t you understand how vulnerable your young are just because they’re Insecticons? They can’t afford to be soft like you are, need to be able to defend themselves. “Insecticons don’t talk. We conquer and take what we want, want.”

• Chirping as he reaches to snag the upside down sparkling from Shrapnel, Kickback picks his way through the swarm and sits down beside you making several younglings scatter out of his way. Holding the little one in his lap to mimic what you’re doing, he’s aware of his brothers scowling at him. But he knows how these arguments usually end. With you and Bombshell screaming at each other. And he’s figured out it’s in his best interest to side with you unless he wants to be included in your retaliatory no touching you ban.

• Eyeing Kickback as he offers you a weak smile that shows a mouthful of sharp denta, you frown up at Bombshell. For all his anger and yelling, you usually end up getting your way and you both know it. You’d gotten a nicer, more secure home that’s not a cave, with electricity and running water, a kitchen and an actual bed that’s eight mattresses wedged together. He’s given you everything you’ve asked for even though he’d complained about not needing any of it and you making them weak. “I know they’re Insecticons,” you mutter. Because they’ve drilled it into you, that an Insecticon’s life is worth nothing to other Cybertronians. That your kids are in danger from all sides and need to learn to fight. But they’re just babies. Your babies. Resting your chin on your smallest’s head, you hate that you’re about to start crying again. And Kickback hooks an arm around you to drag you into his side. ‘We’re safe here. No one will dare attack,” Bombshell growls tiredly, stepping around the kids to rest a hand on top of your head as Shrapnel hisses at him. ‘Teach them your human nonsense. We’ll keep them alive when you make them too soft to protect themselves.’

[bigfatbimbo]

blushes and kicks feet…. sub!daryl dixon headcanons … maybe fem reader … 😁

⋆˚࿔ a/n — two headcanon posts in a row… ill get a fic out soon trust guy.

⋆˚࿔ warnings —NSFW, dom!reader, sub!daryl, use of mommy, praise, fem!reader

summary — Sub!Daryl Dixon headcanons + drabble ⊹ ࣪ ˖

The idea that Daryl Dixon is some crazy hard dom is completely ludicrous… i’m very sorry.

Truthfully, he’s probably relatively vanilla, and definitely more submissive than dominant.

Probably has very little experience, if any at all. Either way, it’s been a hot minute since he’s done anything like that.

He might be sort of a brat at first, just because of his rough exterior. But if he really trusts you, it won’t take long for him to warm up.

His shell begins to crack when you really start to do your thing—maybe taking off his pants, cooing about how big he is—he doesn’t know what to do or think.

Daryl who’s so good under pressure, completely freezes under your care.

Definitely prefers a soft dom, someone to give him all of the comfort and love he completely deserves.

Feeling taken care of is utterly foreign to Daryl, but he’s always craved the feeling of having someone to rely on.

Praise kink:

tell him how good he’s doing for you, how proud you are of him, how he’s taking everything so well.

His defenses may not lower immediately, but by the end of the night he’ll be absolutely reeling at honest, gentle treatment.

Any protests he has are fickle, half-hearted, left over instinct from years of his emotional shell; you can see it in the way his eyes dart down at your compliments, or the way precum forms on his dick when you treat him a little to nicely.

He so desperately needs someone to take care of him, he’s already close from watching you take off his clothes for him.

Lives to please you.

He’s never gotten so much approval from anyone in his life, you wouldn’t be able to tell from his grumbly demeanor, but your opinion means the world to him.

This means he’d eat you out to your hearts content if it meant you’d be above him, hand in his hair, cooing sweet praises at him.

He loves when you ride him: take all the control, pin his wrists to the bed as you hump his dick relentlessly, give him attention while making him feel small and cared for.

Watch his lips tremble and eyes begin to tear as you give him large amounts of reassurance, while making him cum three times in a row.

MOMMY KINK!

Sorry — it’s just so obvious. He wants to be taken care of and babied so bad.

Daryl always has to fend for himself, and carry the team, he desperately needs this attention reciprocated.

He’d be shy about calling you mommy at first, but if you start it?

(ex. “Just let mommy take care of you, Daryl” before going down on him.)

His breathing gets heavier, letting out a small whimper, he’s close already!

With you taking the lead in the bedroom—especially with a mommy kink involved—you become a very safe place for Daryl.

He can be completely vulnerable around you…. and likes it. It’s very weird for him.

Starts muttering mixes of your name, “mama,” and “mommy” when he’s close.

Probably doesn’t want to have sex that often, but when he does he can go for multiple rounds, and a very long time.

Loves sucking your tits, or just feeling you up in general. He gets handsy when he wants attention, instead of just saying it.

He’s not very loud, but you can tell when he likes something because his body tenses, and his breathing pattern speeds up.

Sometimes, he even starts to shake.

Yes, he does whimper though.

During your first sexual encounter with Daryl, he was stiff. Your hand palmed his clothed dick, and you didn’t miss the way his breath faltered. Smiling, you leaned down to kiss his neck, thumb tracing over his hardened dick. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby,” you praised absentmindedly.

“ain’t no’ baby.,” he muttered under his breath. He looked away from you awkwardly, as he picked at the mattress.

You paused. “Have you ever done this before?” Your seductive tone lightened into gentle curiosity, as your brows furrowed.

He looked uncomfortable — partly because of your question, but mostly because of his raging hard-on which was getting no attention. “Dunno, once or twice awhile ago. M’ not no’ expert or nothing.”

He shifted uncomfortably, and you a pang of care flashed through you. “Don’t worry, baby. Mommy’s gonna help you out.”

You still remember the noise he made, as a wet spot formed on his jeans.

NOT PROOFREAD**

[sinsxo]

the strongest, the eldest. —itoshi rin

based on this request.

note. this fic is for all the neglected eldest siblings out there (fem!reader though sorry). hope it was able to heal you guys, even if it’s just a little bit. as a fellow eldest daughter, just know that you don’t have to earn love by being strong. you can be tired. you can ask for help. you can be soft and still be everything.

synopsis. you’ve always been strong because you had to be, and rin knows that. and every day, he makes sure your inner child will never be neglected again like she used to be.

cw. drabble, emotional neglect, eldest daughter parentification themes, inner child healing, implied childhood trauma, hurt/comfort, fluff.

wc. 0.7k words, not proofread.

if someone asked you to describe itoshi rin, you’d probably say that he’s reliable.

not in a loud way. not the kind of reliable that announces itself or asks for praise. it’s the kind that’s constant and steady. the kind you don’t have to ask twice or at all. and that mattered more than you ever let on.

because rin had noticed, long before you ever said a word, that your independence wasn’t something you chose. it wasn’t something you grew into with time or self-discovery. it was something you were forced to wear — built from years of neglect, from carrying responsibilities no child should’ve ever had to shoulder, from being the one who held it together when no one else would.

you were always more than capable of doing everything on your own — rin knows that. whether it was small tasks or heavy burdens, you never hesitated. you just did what needed to be done.

and maybe that’s why rin felt relieved it was him that you were with.

because if you were with anyone else, they might’ve only admired how strong you are. how put-together. how you never seem to need anything.

but rin knows better.

he knows you’re not strong because you want to be — you’re strong because you had no other choice. and now that he’s here, he’s grateful it’s him. because he can help you carry the weight. he can make sure you never have to do it alone again.

you were the eldest daughter — the one expected to understand. to help. to lead. to protect. to carry everything, always, even when all you had was yourself. and when things broke, you were the one who fixed them. when others needed, you gave — even when no one thought to ask if you had anything left to give. you learned how to endure. and you learned to do it quietly.

so when rin takes you to amusement parks, when he brings you to places you once circled in catalogues or saw on TV as a child, when he helps you complete the bucket list you made when you were ten — you never take it for granted. when he ties your shoes because your hands are full, when he carries your bag even though you insist you’re fine, when he gently reaches for things before you can — you notice. not because you can’t do it, but because you finally don’t have to.

with him, you don’t have to be fine all the time.

he doesn’t just take care of you — he takes care of the little girl inside you. the one who had to grow up too fast. the one who tucked her dreams away in a box shoved into the back of her closet because no one ever asked what they were. the one who was never given the chance to rest, or cry, or be seen without having to be useful.

he makes sure she gets to live too.

he makes her laugh. he gives her space to rest. he lets her be small and silly and soft — without judgement. without asking for anything in return.

because before you were the eldest daughter, you were a person. a child. someone who deserved happiness. someone who deserved softness. someone who deserved to feel held and loved — not forgotten. not burdened. not expected to be grown before her time.

and rin never forgets that.

he makes room for her — the version of you who never got to run free. the one who never felt safe enough to cry. the one who still hides behind strength because she doesn’t know how else to exist. he welcomes her with quiet arms and steady hands. no questions, no expectations.

he lets you be little. lets you be soft. lets you be held.

and every day, in a hundred quiet ways, he makes sure you’ll never have to carry everything on your own again. with him, you’re not alone. you never were. you don’t have to be strong here.

you can just be you, however you feel.

© all written works are created and owned by @sinsxo. do not plagiarise, modify, repost or translate any of my content on other platforms under any circumstances.

all images, aside from the dividers, do not belong to me. credit belongs to their original creators on pinterest & xhs.

[corpscs]

you wanna be mad ⧗ yelena x new avenger f!reader

♡ minors and men dni , no use of y/n , wlw , enemies to lovers , amnesia trope , blood , injury , angst, yelena doesn’t understand how she feels , this was edited by my cat so ignore any spelling or grammar mistakes i will probably find them later , divider , images are from pinteret

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡ masterlist , word count: 1.8k

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡ part 1 ♡ part 2

bones’ now playing ▶︎ mad - reneé rapp

drip.

drip.

the sharp sound of the water cut through the silence. it helped you ground yourself. what was happening? where were you again? your thoughts were clouded. your body hurt and your face was wet, unknown to you at the time but from the past rain of the sprinklers and from your own blood.

you forced your eyes to open and adjust to the dark and the flickering yellow light on the far side of the room. next you forced your body to move, and tried to reach around for your baton or gun. whatever you could grab first. unfortunately that first thing was a body. the shock seemed to melt some of your consciousness back into place and you scrambled backwards hitting a concrete slab. as air rushed in and out of your lungs your ribs flared in pained protest. the ruble in front of you must have came from above. you squinted into the shadows above you but you couldn’t see much of anything. it was dark. probably nighttime.

you had zero idea where you were or how you got here. you vision tinted and you tried to wipe at your eye but found it swollen, and your hand came back covered in more blood. feeling your consciousness slipping again, you moved as fast as you could manage. pushing yourself between the shelving was the best your brain could do for structural stability and cover before you blacked back out.

ཐི⋆⚰︎⋆ཋྀ

“it’s already been 7 hours.” john said. “we have to start plan b.”

“plan b only works if plan a didn’t.” ava sat next to him. “and can we stop calling it that?”

john scoffed at her. “well we don’t know if plan a worked now do we?” walked muttered bitterly.

“shut the hell up.” yelena growled out. she didn’t need walker to point it out, she was already blaming herself for this. in a way it was sort of her fault. you didn’t miss your check in, yelena hung up the call.

yelena made a comment that launched into there of you bickering during mission start again. she was just trying to get under your skin. but you never called back within the minute and when she called you. no answer. a repeated no answer.

your last known location was a bust, so was the safe house.

you officially are mia. and yelena could only stew on how it was all her fault. she should have just answered instead of picking a fight like a child. but that’s just how you two were. oil and water.

after chasing a lead down they were able to pick up what you had most likely gotten involved in. the intel turned out to be on a domestic terrorist cell with an modified bio weapon intended some large event in texas. and it had already left new york. if you had a lead on it that meant you were also out of new york. or worse, dead. bucky was waiting on a contact to confirm the route.

“12 hour mark.” walker spoke looking at his phone. yelena was silent as she stared out the window. 12 hours of yelena brooding. 12 hours of blaming. 12 hours of thinking about everything that was happening to you.

you didn’t like solo missions. yelena knew you hated them. you hated being alone, you hated being left out. she remembers the double edged conversation from the last mission you were dispatched on together. where you said you hated being alone so much that you would rather be paired with her than be alone. and yelena had the fucking nerve to tell you she didn’t want you there at all.

now all she had to think about was never seeing you again.

your feud was stupid, it wasn’t even something on solid ground. you had met yelena through her natalia, then after the blip, after her sister’s death, you were suddenly something yelena couldn’t stomach.

the real reason yelena hated you was something that wasn’t even your fault, something you had no control over. you had stayed by natasha during the blip helping her keep shield running. yelena was jealous. jealous that you got the time with her sister that was unfairly ripped from her. and you seemed clueless as to why. your sadness turned to anger which only morphed into resentment.

you were an avenger and a friend to natasha and she cared for you, yelena knew that. she talked about you with a smile and told yelena that you two would get along. and now you were probably dead as well. something precious to natalia ruined by her.

ཐི⋆⚰︎⋆ཋྀ

13 hours hit. and finally at 15 hours and 37 minutes. bucky was rushing through the doors. yelena’s breath stalled as heart leapt into the back of her throat.

“got a location.” everyone was moving before his sentence was finished. yelena wanted to ask questions, but her guilt weighed them down. bucky might not even have them.

according to bucky’s contact, the brigade never made it to the second check in. the first set of route coordinates lead to an abandoned military station. the team followed the tire tracks to an old structure. “spread out.” bucky instructed. “keep quiet.”

ghost and john began to check the abandoned vehicles, yelena and bucky moved forward to the building. he called out your name through the cracked door. he used his vibranium arm to grip the metal and pull it open.

inside, the concrete of the top floor had came down and busted through the ground floor. “hey, watch the floor.” bucky warned. there were four guards dead to the left of the door at the top of where the metal staircase began.

yelena stepped forward to observe the hole the concrete had put in the floor. below was an even more gruesome scene. pieces of human remains and equipment scattered in between the chunks and slabs. yelena’s eyes locked onto a piece of your equipment in the hand of some fallen man. “bucky.” she pulled his attention to the baton.

bucky called your name again, getting no responses they made their way to the stairs stepping over the bodies. bucky clicked on his flashlight searching among the bodies and ruble. he watched yelena pick up your gear.

“this is her’s, she has to be here.” she paused. “if you come out, i promise to never make fun of your cooking again.”

“really? ”bucky let out a gruff.

“yes really, she is a good cook. it makes her very upset.” yelena said simply, continuing to look around.

bucky was skimming over the walls when his eyes caught on the small finger smear of blood. he scanned through again doubling back to where you had your hand in front of your face blocking your eyes from the harsh light of the flash.

ཐི⋆⚰︎⋆ཋྀ

amnesia. that’s what the med staff told bucky. most likely temporary with the head injury.

“how is she?” bob asked nervously. bucky sighed.

“just had to tell her that half the people she loves are dead or awol.” rubbed a hand down his face. “she’s doing really well.”

“so, she doesn’t know who we are?” ava concluded. bucky nodded.

“she barely knows me and she’s basing all her trust in me on her trust in steve. who i then had to tell her jumped back in time.” he sarcastically laughed, his eyes focusing on yelena. “have we all learned a lesson here?”

she looked at the wall ahead of her.

“i looked at her call logs.” she was still silent. “you ended the call.”

“i know.” she said.

“yelena.”

“i didn’t mean-“

“didn’t mean what? you didn’t mean to act like a child? now your team mate almost died and we’ve lost our intel because the girl who has it thinks it’s 2017.” he sighed.

“everyone get some sleep. we debrief tomorrow morning.”

yelena had hung around the med bay. she wanted to go in and see you, not that she knew what to say. you didn’t even know who she was right now. to you she was probably just the replacement black widow that nearly got you killed.

“the nurses said you were out here still.” yelena heard your tired voice. you were standing against the metal doorway holding an iv pole, three different drip bags connected to you. your left leg was in a brace, but you were standing on it anyways, putting your weight on the good leg. typical of you. there was a bandage on your forehead above your bruised eye. various tape and butterfly bandages scattered your exposed skin.

“yelena right?” she nodded still not saying anything. “i’m sorry, this must be weird.” your split lip curled into a smile. “james, er bucky explained the mission to me. and he said you were beating yourself up about it.”

the way he had phrased it made it seem like you would enjoy the knowledge, but it twisted a pit inside of your chest you didn’t like. “i don’t want you to feel bad about it. you only hung up on me, you didn’t drop a couple thousand tons of concrete on me. which ranks like the best worst thing that’s happened to me today i suppose.”

amnesia you was very kind. the guilt in yelena’s chest dank deeper

“i’m sorry, if i didn’t- “

“no sorry’s. we can play butterfly affect all night long if you want but it would still end absolutely nowhere.” yelena stayed silent.

“you should sleep.” you suggested with a smile.

“you can feel refreshed and guilty tomorrow morning.” yelena obeyed but didn’t sleep much. she had a nightmare about you in that ruble. you had narrowly avoided such a horrific death that would have been her cause. another death on her hands like that is something yelena couldn’t have lived with. she was up early the next morning, yelena went back to see you. with you your favorite breakfast and coffee.

“it’s early, you didn’t sleep much did you?” you asked from where you sat on the bed, tablet in hand. yelena shook her head. “me neither, just lost a decade and i wasn’t even blipped.” you giggled pushing the heel of your palm to your non bruised eye.

“you’re really not angry with me?” yelena asked you closing the door behind her. you shrugged. “if i stayed angry about anything that’s done and over with, especially now, my brain is going to melt. i’m just happy to be alive.” yelena sat the food and coffee on your table. “for me?” she nodded while you thanked her.

you sniffed the coffee quizzically. yelena then remembered this was probably different usual coffee than when you remember. “uh- it’s what you usually make.” she said before explaining your process. you hummed taking a small sip.

“this is so strange, but i’m patting myself on the back for this one.” you sat in silence and ate half the food before asking her the ugly question she had been waiting for.

“yelena, are we friends?”

𓉸 𝔯𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔰 - 𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫 𓉸

masterlist ♡, bones

[takakuras-left-ball]

꙳¤٭⁎﹡꙳＊ "𝗗𝗼𝗻𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗳𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗱, 𝗜'𝗺 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗮𝗻𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗶𝗿𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹…

…𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲?" ＊꙳﹡⁎٭¤꙳

Dividers from @uzmacchiato

Kaji Ren x reader

Warnings: violence, kinda hurt/comfort

Note: the image at the end is what caused this, from the creator @beesleeps ! I was gonna have like a super angsty ending with this that matched the image more but I am too emotional for that today maybe next time.

Kaji really never intended to end up in this situation, and for a while he genuinely believed he could prevent it. Saying it now, it seemed stupid. After all what did he expect? He was a member of Bofurin, and on top of that he wasn’t exactly unknown outside of that either. Still, he really never wanted you to have to see him fight. But here he was, a handful of assholes surrounding the two of you. The way they circled him, it was hard for him to keep you away from them, but he could feel your hands tightly gripping the back of his jacket, your voice trembling as you softly spoke his name. He knew you were safe. He had pulled down the headphones around his neck, but still carefully pushed the candy around in his mouth, the paper stick shifting across his lips before speaking. His voice was strong and direct and his eyes swept over the people he could see without turning too much. “If you’re looking for a fight, you picked the wrong time. I’m busy.”

“Aw, c’mon man, don’t be a buzzkill.” One of them grinned with undeserved confidence. “Don’t worry, your friend back here can get a little action too.” The second voice came from behind him, his eyes sharpening instantly at the words as he went to turn, but it was just a second too late. He could feel your hands get ripped from his jacket, a startled cry of his name was the last thing he could make out before his mind just…went blank. He hated this feeling, he worked so hard to learn how to keep himself under control, diligently working to improve himself for his team, his friends, and for you. Especially for you. He’d been so careful, and now it was happening again. And with you right there too. You…

Your broken voice finally pushed through the cotton in his ears, the muffled sounds finally slowly clearing up. He knew it wasn’t over, he could feel someone grabbing him before the red had cleared from his vision, but he wouldn’t let any of these bastards keep him from you. He’d heard you say something, but things were still so muffled when he’d heard your voice. But he was sure it was probably…

Your mind was racing, these people were here to fight your boyfriend, you knew that much. It could be something related to Bofurin, but you also knew that Kaji had a bit of a past. You didn’t know much, and it really wasn’t important to you. What was important was that you stayed close to him. Of course, that Idea was promptly ruined when you heard the words from the guy right behind you. “Don’t worry, your friend back here can get a little action too.” You felt the bruising grip on your arm and in a split second you’re being yanked away, only able to shout out his name as you lose your grip on his jacket. You think you hear the crack of his lollipop between his teeth mix with your voice. You started to panic, but your mind didn’t even have time to. It just looked like a blur, then the hand on your arm let loose. As you stepped forward, turning to look back at the same time, you spot Kaji. But he seems off, his teeth bared and eyes wild, you can see the glint in his eyes as two other guys charge at him, but in seconds they’re on the ground. His fists are merciless, it’s nothing like what you’d seen from his fighting before. He didn’t let you watch, and on the rare occasion he didn’t know you were nearby, you’d still never seen him fight quite like this. It was feral, unrelenting fists and feet flying faster than perceivable. But still, you know it is your beloved boyfriend, and he’s doing this to protect you. Telling yourself that didn’t stop the way your body trembled, your eyes locked onto the fight like watching a train wreck in action. He grabbed one of them as some of the others began to run off, the boy’s shirt balled tight enough to turn his knuckles white, though through the tattered skin and blood you couldn’t see that. It was the boy who’d first grabbed you. You really weren’t sure if Kaji even knew that, though. You watched his other fist raise, and heard the sickening crunch under each blow, one after another. You had to stop him, you knew Kaji wouldn’t want this if he was in the right state of mind. You rushed forward, reaching out to grab his arm, hoping to stop the next blow from landing. “Ren, please stop!” Your arms wrapped around his as it was lifted, and you watched the hand holding the other boy’s shirt loosen and allow him to fall. But something wasn’t right. When your eyes met his, it looked like they were looking right through you, and you felt your blood run cold.

“Ren!” He heard you clearly that time, your voice desperate and frightened, crackling with tears he could hear before seeing them. You sounded so close, like you were right there. Finally, for just a moment he paused, his fist wound tight, ready for the next blow. Though as the clouds of red finally faded from his vision, he felt frozen. This was all wrong. Your hair, tightly clenched between his fingers as his fist that was meant to protect you was only moments from striking you. The tears cascading down your cheeks poured from eyes filled with terror. 

That look. The look in your eyes right now, he was far too familiar with it. The way people looked at him before, waiting for him to snap. But he was never supposed to give you a reason to look at him like that. And now…

A sharp inhale cut through his thoughts, releasing you suddenly as he watched your body crumble to the ground, curling up to yourself, soft sobs of relief slipping past your lips and into his ears. He felt his chest clench. He stared at you with wide, horrified eyes. Taking a moment to finally move, shifting slightly closer to you, his voice trembling as he went to call your name, but his words caught in his throat as he caught the slightest motion. You flinched, you flinched away from him. He didn’t dare move again, but he felt so lost. He wanted to comfort you, to tell you it was alright, that you were safe. But how could he do that when he was the reason you were so afraid? He almost hurt you with his own hands when he’d promised to always protect you. His thoughts were interrupted when his eyes met yours, wet and fearful, but a glimmer of hope behind them that made his heart ache all over again. “Rennie…?” Your voice was so soft and fragile, like if he moved too suddenly or spoke too loud you would just fall apart. Maybe that’s why his voice came out so quiet. He could blame that instead of the tears in his own eyes. “I’m…so sorry-” He didn’t get to finish yet again, this time because of the way you lept to cling to him, unable to reach his arms with him standing and you on the ground, so you latched onto his leg, small choked sounds and sniffles still slipping out. 

He could never forgive himself for this, how could he? And how could you possibly still cling to him like he was your lifeline? Like you could still possibly love him after this? He knew you were forgiving, but your kindness had to have limits! He didn’t move, unsure of what to do, what he should do. When your words finally broke him from the spell he was under, he was shocked to find it was possible to feel worse. “It’s okay, Ren. It’s not your fault, I shouldn’t have grabbed you in the middle of a fight, I’m sorry.” How could you possibly think to apologize to him? After what he did, and after what you saw, you should be screaming and running from him. And he definitely shouldn’t be crouching down, pulling you into his arms as tears begin to fall from his own eyes. And he shouldn’t be hiding his face in your neck, begging for your forgiveness on the ground of this dirty tunnel surrounded by bodies. But he was, and you with your own tears and body trembling hold him tightly. After some time has passed, at some point you had ended up in his lap, his body completely shielding you from view and elements, arms securely around you as he still hides his face in your neck. You decided to break the silence finally, a shaky smile finding your lips. “It’s okay, I’m not mad, Ren. I know next time-” “No.” You were almost startled by how quickly he interjected, but his voice was still soft and quiet, making an effort clearly to be less frightening for you right now. “There won’t be a next time like this. I won’t let it happen. You can be mad, or scared. Whatever you need. I’ll understand.” He fell silent again for a moment more before hearing you sniffle again, though somehow your voice seemed stronger than before. “I was scared… But, I’m not scared of you, Ren.” He didn’t understand why you were so understanding with him, why you were so gentle and forgiving. Or even why you loved him. But he’d be forever grateful you did. And he’d make sure to make this up to you for the rest of your lives together. He’d make sure to keep getting better, to keep learning how to control that part of himself. He never wanted to see you look at him like that again, and if he had anything to say about it, he wouldn’t give you a reason to.

[windupaidoneus]

and liek stormblood was just meh to me so this genuinely hit me like a thousand hammers in the face. the tsukuyomi fight. the possible implication she could've had traumatic amnesia and was so eager to please gosetsu to get on his good side as a passive defensive/avoidant behavior because she didn't want to let him down and re-experience all the abuse and mistreatment in that condition. the fact despite of him being her enemy, she saw him as a safe person during the tsukuyomi trial. idk if anything i say makes sense but

NO LITERALLY BECAUSE. because. okay. (gets on my soapbox) yotsuyu was never given a choice in anything in her life. she was handed over to family members who hated her. she had to live in an abusive household until she was sold off to marry at a young age. the man dies & she's sold into a brothel instead. her entire life she has been dragged around & forced to comply with abuser after abuser after abuser. & then zenos comes around. offers her a way out. it's not freedom but it's more than she's ever had. she clearly fears zenos but she now has an opportunity to get back at the people who have tormented her her entire life, and she's given pretty much free reign on how to do it so long as she does it. of course it grows into an uncontrollable hatred toward her own people! they have been her enemy her whole life!

& then she "dies". zenos, who had saved her, left her behind, because she was disposable like everyone else. she loses her memory, probably both because of the physical trauma & psychological trauma that's built up all these years. she's amnesiac, she's regressed too - to me it feels similar to did right, with tsuyu splitting from that & there being amnesia barriers to protect her. & she has a rough start but gosetsu defends her, eventually hien softens to her as well (even if his writing in that whole section is... not good... imo... & sometimes fully out of character...). she gets a chance at healing even if she does not remember what she's healing from. then asahi comes up & actively retraumatises her.

in all of this she has had no real choice at all no matter how positive or negative her interactions with others have been. so she remembers, her parents are there, and here her first choice lies - she kills them! good on her! it is the first time she has agency over what she does.

by that point i think another thing starts factoring in. she notes on gosetsu & hien's kindness contrasting with the domans she's known in her youth. i think at that point she feels that because there is no redemption for her her only way forward is to keep being evil, because even when she's taken out of that path she gets dragged right back in. so she's going to be evil On Purpose, if it has to be like this.

asahi 'recruits' her. she chooses to go along with him but it's not because she hates the domans necessarily anymore. of course she can't let go of that anger so easily but it's a way for her to have control over her fate, to decide how she's gonna go. & to be able to put asahi into the ground.

BUT LIKE AAAAH GOSETSU. GOSETSU BEING HER SHIELD AGAINST ZENOS. THEYRE ON OPPOSING SIDES & YET GOSETSUS LOVE FOR HER IS WHAT KEEPS HER GOING AT THAT POINT. GRAH. being evil is all she has in her mind but even then!!! even then she holds onto gosetsu!! because he cared!! she hates doma but she loves him!! in the end the thing she fears the most was zenos... the one who gave her the first 'freedom' she got to experience because it was no freedom at all... ahg... im jsut saying words at this point but i love her so so much truly if you dont like yotsuyu im going to rob you blind idgaf!!!!!

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 825: Neck and neck!! Four people!!

Pag 2

1: Each school's ace

Pag 3

1: brimming with confidence!!

What they're looking at ahead... is victory!!

Pag 4

1: They're here!!

2: I can already hear the cheers!!

They're taking the final curve, on!!

That means they're at 600m left!? They're so fast!!

3: No time to look at the monitor!!

4: Let's go!!

Yessir

On!!

Ye-yes!

Pag 5

1: Imaizumi joined the top three!!

On!! Kawada-san!!

They'll take it!! After all, even though they were stupidly fast during practice, I've never seen them look like they were having a rough time, not even once

Like woah!! No problem at all!!

2: He'll be in third place at least!! Well, there're three people, so third place is obvious!!

Haha... on...

3: Kawada-kun

4: Among the guys running at the top right now, none of them is having no problem and neither of them is aiming for third place

Everyone who's there

5: is only aiming for the first place and is fighting with everything he's got!!

Pag 6

3: I see them!! They're coming, on!!

Sorry, old man, make a little space for us

4: Come, Imaizumi!!

6: Oi, wait

That... weren't there three people in the lead...!?

7: As expected, huh

8: Ah...

9: Bu....

Pag 7

1: Hakone Academy, with the blue jersey, caught up!!

Pag 8

1: That guy wasn't on the monitor!!

2: There are four people in the lead!!

Pag 9

1: 500m left until the finish line of the Inter High's first day!!

Pag 10

1: This is... I see, Hakone Academy's strategy...!!

2: Takadajou....!!

3: I see

4: They expected the two final curves would turn into a free-for-all fight, so they fell back on purpose

5: Without any hindrance by the other cyclists, they could choose the cornering route that would make them lose speed the least and passed the curve more efficiently

6: Even so, if he was alone, he'd use up his legs to fill regain the seconds he had lost

But

7: Since there were two of them, they could keep the ace comfortable and

8: send him here safely!!

9: He probably...

Pag 11

1: still has a lot of strength left in his legs!!

Pag 12

1: Is it yes?

3: This is bad

5: What!?

He shook his left shoulder twice!?

6: Ah, you noticed this?

It's an old story

8: An habit of my brother

Brother!?

Pag 13

1: When he's about to accelerate!!

2: “Accelerate”!?

Pag 14

1: I'm just imitating it for fun!!

2: He stepped on!!

Pag 15

1: Not even ten seconds after he caught up to us!!

Tch

2: Groooss kyaa!!

3: Seriously!? Here!?

4: What happened!?

So fast!

Pag 16

1: Hakogaku's ace caught up... accelerated in less than a second, and is leaving the others behind!!

The other three behind him are desperately chasing!!

2: The table is turned!!

Hakogaku is in the lead!!

3: In an instant...

He... Hakogaku...

Pag 17

1: He shows no mercy nor hesitation!!

Pag 18

1: That's Hakone Academy's new ace, the second year Shinkai Yuuto!!

Rushaaa

2: Shinkai-saan!!

Yuuto-san, Yuuto-san, you're so cool!!

Yuuto goo!!

3: Hakogakuu!!

Pedaal!

Pag 19

2: Strength and strategy!! The battle can change completely in an instant!! This is road racing!!

3: Shinkai!!

4: Earlier, when he was chasing at 5km left, he was pulling the pack

5: He was able to accelerate like that with the energy he had left!?

Pag 20

3: But

4: Yuutoo!!

5: Oooooo

Pag 21

2: I caught up!!

Pag 22

1: Caught up?

No way

3: Imaizumi-san

4: Maybe I let you catch up?

8: I'm Shinkai Yuuto

Pag 23

1: I rested while Jou-san pulled me, so I was just doing a little warm-up

I can't just jump into zone 5

2: But now I got a feel for it, so it's perfect

3: Delicious

You want one?

4: Ah... this isn't the place to eat (haha)

5: Shinkai Yuuto!!

Pag 24

1: That guy... did you hear the rumors about this year's Hakogaku's ace, Shinkai?

During race, before anyone knew, he smoothly came up and always snatched the finish line....

2: They say his movements are tricky and hard to read

His sense in front of the finish line is incredible

3: He was a climber, up until last year

4: But he started practicing as a sprinter since early spring.... and he got faster in the blink of an eye....

5: He kept improving his time and quickly adapted to the speed

In Kanagawa's races, he could still win with a margin even without his assist, Takadajou

They call him....

Pag 25

1: “Finish line's hornet”!!

He always sting you when you're neck and neck...

Pag 26

1: He's the heartless hornet!!

4: Kanagawa Prefecture, Hadano City, Nanabitsu pass

At 500m left one more person caught up

It's Hakone Academy number 11, Shinkai Yuuto!!

He caught up just before the finish line...

Pag 27

1: You've gotten stronger, Yuuto!! Really!

Right now, you...

2: can do it!

You're far stronger than last year, and also

3: much faster!!

[lost-in-fandoms]

Max and Daniel, hurt no comfort, about 1.2k. There's zero happy feelings in this.

Max's phone rings at 1:48am, and for a moment he considers not even answering, burying his face back into the pillow and maybe suffocate to sleep.

Then he remembers that there are only a few people who make it past his do not disturb, and suddenly he's wide awake, fingers fumbling for his phone and answering without even reading the name of the caller.

His "hello?" gets drowned by the explosion of noise on the other side, making him curse and moving the phone away from his ear, music and screaming splitting the silence of the night. He thinks about hanging up, can already feel a headache forming, but then a voice cuts through the noise, much closer to the microphone.

"Max? Max?"

"Daniel?"

Max pulls the phone away from his ear to check the caller, finding Daniel's name there, his heart thundering in his chest.

There's sniffling on the other side of the call, a sound that's almost a gasp, and then Daniel is calling his name again, lost and confused and definitely high.

"Daniel, are you okay? What is going on?"

He fully sits up in bed, rubbing an eye with his hand and trying to figure out why Daniel would be calling him in the middle of the night. Calling him in the middle of the night.

"Max, can you come get me?" Daniel's voice cuts through his thoughts, almost giving him vertigo by how fast it snaps him back into another time, when this question wasn't the most unusual one.

There had been a time when Daniel had partied a little too hard after disastrous races, even harder after decent ones. And then he would call Max in the middle of the night, weepy and lost, suddenly overwhelmed by the noise, the people, the feelings, to be brought back.

"I don't..." Max swallows, dragging a hand down his face and taking a deep breath, forcing his voice to be calmer than he feels. "Where are you?"

There's another sniffle, then a dip in the noise, as if Daniel had stepped outside, and Max's heartbeat spikes again.

"Daniel, where are you going? Stay where you are, please."

The image of Daniel, drunk and probably high, lost who knows where, too overwhelmed to find his way to somewhere safe, had been a recurring one in his nightmares for a few years. He wasn't expecting for it to ever come back.

"Max, can you come get me?" Daniel repeats, not answering any of Max's questions. Max is not even sure he's hearing him, and feels bile in the back of his throat.

"Yes, Daniel, but you need to tell me where you are. Can you do that?"

What will he do if Daniel is anywhere in the world that isn't Monaco? What will he do if he's in LA or Australia or wherever the fuck Daniel likes to party these days? He doesn't even know who he's with, if he knows any of his friends enough to have their numbers, to be able to call someone else for help.

His phone vibrates in his hand, and he forces himself to take a deep breath while moving it away from his ear, putting it on speaker just to be safe, even if Daniel isn't saying anything. His heartbeat doesn't slow down as he realises it's a message from Daniel, with his location, not before he knows if he will be able to get to him or not.

Maldives.

Daniel is in the fucking Maldives and Max is going to throw up.

"Daniel," he starts, as softly as he can, feeling his eyes burn. "Can you listen to me?"

On the other side there's a shaky sound, but Max decides to take it as a yes. Can't take it as anything else right now.

"Can you tell me if you're going anywhere or if you're standing still?"

"I'm sitting," Daniel answers, sounding young and sad, but a little more coherent. Max hopes at least the fresh air is helping.

"And is it safe, to be sitting where you are?"

Who would be with Daniel? He knows he was with Scotty a week ago, but he's not sure he's still with him. Hasn't seen Daniel with Blake in forever.

"Garden."

He pulls up Scotty's contact anyway, trying to think.

"Can you come get me?"

Max is going to throw up.

He closes his eyes again, trying and failing not to let the tears fall, trying and failing to keep his breathing under control.

"I can't, Daniel," he chokes out, "I am in Monaco."

"But you always come get me."

It's true. Max had always gone to get him. But that was when they were always in the same places, the racing circus keeping them close even when they were barely talking.

Not now though, not anymore.

"I know, I'm sorry," he says, not even know why he's apologising. He's not the one who's drunk calling from the other side of the world, but he still feels like he's failing Daniel.

"But..."

"Is Scotty there?" Max interrupts, not strong enough to hear Daniel ask again.

"I don't want Scotty, I want you," Daniel whines, sounding a little like a temper tantrum throwing toddler, a lot like someone who just wants to break Max's heart again.

"I'm sorry," is all Max can say, and again when Daniel keeps whining.

He fumbles through a text for Scotty, letters blurring and fingers trembling, then another then another then another, until the ticks turn blue. Daniel is rambling about his birthday party being shit, about everything being shit, about Max being shit for not coming to get him, and Max just lets him talk, sitting on the kitchen floor, head resting against a cabinet.

"Scotty is coming to get you," he grits out when Scotty finally answers. His voice sounds strange in his own ears, clumsy and choked, but it's enough to stop Daniel's drunken rant.

"You come get me?" he asks, lost again, as if he hadn't just been saying he hated Max one moment before.

"Scotty comes get you," Max corrects, as gently as he can. He hears Daniel's name being called twice, voice coming closer, and something in his chest loosens with the knowledge of Daniel at least being safe.

"Thanks, mate," Scotty's voice says through the speaker, "I'll send him to bed."

"No problem," Max replies, unsure if either of them is even listening anymore, the sound of Daniel complaining that he doesn't want to go back in now further away, as if the phone had been pocketed.

He stays on the line as the party grows louder again, then quiet. As he distantly listens to Scotty putting Daniel to bed with a lot of arguments, Australian accents deeper with alcohol. As the discussion becomes soft conversation, and then finally silence.

When he finally hangs up, he feels numb. He doesn't even know if Daniel will call again in the morning, or if they'll pretend this never happened.

Sitting on the kitchen floor, tears wetting his cheeks, he books a plane ticket anyway. Just in case.

[aphyray]

The Shepherd's Sword - Counting Sheep

A little fanfic for @renstrapp's @theshepherdssword. Feeling inspired seeing all the fanart for the upcoming book release. Can't draw for my life so I must ply my only craft. This would take place somewhere in Chapter 5, if they didn't quite make it through the woods before nightfall, and if Shep were really bad at being a shepherd.

-

“Twelve,” Shep said. A hard answer to a hard question from a soft kid. A shepherd’s burden.

Wayne laughed. The way she does. The way she shouldn’t. But you probably can’t even beat that kind of behavior out of a hound like her.

“That many?” Wayne teased Shep. “In two years? You sure you’re cut out for this? Maybe you’d be better tending trees. They don’t wander off as much.”

That grin. Arrogance dripping. Irredeemable wretch.

Robin kept on asking hard questions, soft-eyed: “You remember them all?”

Shep nodded, then nodded again at the shaft of her staff. Twelve notches. She offered it up for Robin to count.

She tried, a little too hard, but even tracing her fingertips carefully over the scars, she couldn’t count more than eight that hadn’t been worn away with time.

Shep took the staff back and showed her every one, naming every ewe and lamb she’d lost.

“You can’t protect them all,” Shep said, glancing at Jo when she did, but Jo wasn’t really paying much attention. Shep’s finger lingered over one notch. She dug her nail into the groove to keep it fresh.

Wayne couldn’t help herself from pouncing on an opportunity to brag in front of eternally star-struck Jo: “Maybe you can’t. I’ve never lost anything.”

Shep just closed her eyes and shook the annoyance out of her head. The fire needed more wood if the four of them had any hope of keeping the beasts at bay tonight. The forest seemed more uneasy these nights than it had ever been, and she wasn’t planning to add any more notches to her staff during this little detour of an errand.

When she got back, Jo and Robin were asleep, cuddled into each other sweetly. Wayne lingered. Like an ivy rash lingers.

Shep insisted she should go to bed too: “You get the second shift.”

Wayne didn’t respond to that. She was trying to make a show of staring at the fire, but her gaze kept flickering to Shep’s staff.

To the notches.

“You missed one,” she said at last. All that boastful pride was gone. Just a show for the kids, apparently.

Shep repeated herself: “I’ve lost twelve sheep.”

“There’s thirteen cuts in the wood. Thought you were smart, Shep. How do you keep track of that flock of theirs if you can’t count?”

Shep wrinkled her nose and looked away bitterly before she told Wayne it was time for her to be a good hound and go to sleep.

Wayne grumbled about it, but she did concede to lie down in her bed. Like a good hound.

Not like a good hound, she decided to bark out an arrogant last little bit of advice: “It doesn’t make you better. Remembering.”

“Good night, Wayne.”

While the fire crackled and Shep’s trio of unwarranted wards slept safe and sound in her care, she spent the time scoring the notches with her nail.

Even someone like Robin should be able to see each and every one of them.

Shep glanced at the kid, whose face seemed troubled by something in her sleep – even in Jo’s guardian embrace.

…Especially someone like Robin.

Wayne tagged in when the moon was high.

Shep’s sleep was uneasy. Visions of eyes in the shadows beyond the fire. Violence. Blood.

When she woke, she found Wayne cleaning her sword next to some messily butchered beast. She’d done a poor job wiping the blood of it off her cheeks. Recklessly hunting in the night again? Leaving the camp unguarded? Of course she would. Even with kids to take care of, of course she was going to be so careless and arrogant and—

Before Shep could build up the pyre of her scorn to the pines, a sudden splash of realization dowsed the flame in her. That was no deer. No deer had fur that thick.

She wrinkled her nose at it, standing silently behind Wayne, ready to beat her stupid and sorry, but she needed an answer before she did:

“What happened?”

“Cougar.”

“…Another one?”

“Think so. Smelled different. Hard to tell in the dark, though. Maybe it was the same. Hell of a thing if it was, though, after that fight.”

“…It smelled different?”

Wayne held up her sword to admire the sheen, then slipped it back in its scabbard with a satisfying snap of the clasp. “It smelled different,” she repeated.

“You killed it by yourself?”

She looked over her shoulder with a grin that said it all: Of course she did. Jo and Robin were still asleep. Who else was there?

“Figured I’d spare you vandalizing your stupid little stick there again.”

“Just wake me up next time.”

“And let you take the credit?”

“Who are you showing off for? You’d put their lives at risk for your ego? For points?”

“I could handle it.”

“This time.”

Wayne stood and turned to get up in Shep’s face before she jabbed at her: “Every. Time. I told you, Shep. I’ve never lost anything.” She stepped back and added with a disarming little shrug and a grin, “Be pretty stupid of me to start now.”

Shep glared into Wayne’s stupid grinning eyes with a bitter grimace for a few heavy breaths, before her frown cracked. There was something in Wayne’s eyes. A waver. A glance. A lie. A weight.

The shepherd’s burden.

Even a hound feels it, then.

It had been a long time since Shep had enough softness in her eyes to ask such a hard question, so instead she just left Wayne alone to deal with what was left of her kill.

While Shep set about packing up her gear, she wondered if there were any notches hidden on the hilt of Wayne’s sword, or if it really did make her better to forget.

Watching Wayne brag about her triumphant kill to Jo, Shep thought better of it – because if that was what better looked like, she’d rather be worse.

[0viraptoraskblog]

OKAY SO This is a random concept I got in my head, but hear me out; What if MC managed to kidnapp the BTD Characters? (though it's not really possible for most like Fox, or Mason, but it's just an idea...) I mean we know for a fact they enjoy to hurt us, but how about we turn tables? How about they are OUR victim? I hope you have a great day and the asks are not pressuring you too much! I'm always excited to see you posting something ^^ I hope you have a great day :)

Thank you, I appreciate it and that’s very nice to hear ^^

Strade- We know he’s bothered by being tied up, even afraid of it. Being restrained makes him panic, but if you managed to prove you can best him (by successfully trapping him), he might give in and cooperate with you. I’m excited to see what happens with this in YKMET :)

Ren- well, basically any of the survival endings in BTD2.

Lawrence- Lawrence would panic. He might get so stressed he’ll submit and do what you want, or he might get more angry— the silent, dangerous kind of angry. He won’t cooperate with you in any way, and somehow, you’ll probably still end up hurt.

Sano- Sano would be upset, but he’s still calculated. He’d try every trick up his sleeve to get free. If he couldn’t, though, he’ll resort to bargaining; and if that doesn’t work, he might become submissive just to bide his time.

Akira- Akira would try and fight his way out. He’d be overly aggressive (he was tortured in the past, and the memory doesn’t sit well.. duh). You’d have to do a lot of work to get him to cooperate with anything.

Vincent- Vincent has anger issues.. this would send them through the roof. He’d try to break his way out of whatever you’re containing him with and tear you apart. I’d stay a safe distance away and use good quality chains.

Cain- Cain would be frustrated, but probably in denial that he’s totally at your mercy. He may go along with whatever you say to begin with until he can better gauge the situation.

Rire- Rire would be mad, but in an annoyed way. He knows this won’t last, and he’ll get free. It’s just a major inconvenience. Rest assured, you’ll be punished for trying to keep him locked up once he’s out.

Derek- Derek would be very mad, and threaten you wildly, but he’s all talk— as long as you keep him trapped, that is. His threats do have backing; there are people who will look for him. However, if he says he’ll kill you the second you let him out, just.. don’t. He makes those threats to hide the fact that he’s scared, and honestly helpless unless his family sends someone after him. He has no ideas on how to get free.

Celia- Celia would be furious, but she’d still try and get out of it. She’d negotiate with you, manipulate you, anything to regain the upper hand. She’s patient with it, too. If she’s never able to escape, she might go a little crazy.

Mason- probably the most unrealistic (aside from the slightly overpowered characters.. cough Cain and Rire) but if you managed to catch him, I think he’d have a lot of respect for you. You proved that you’re not just prey, you’re a hunter too— possibly an equal. And he respects survival of the fittest.

[theravenflies]

I have figured out why Lord Milori can't/doesn't fly.

(I'm sorry if this is worded weird, I'm having trouble putting thoughts into words right now. Maybe I'll reblog sometime in the future with a better essay.)

So for those of you who don't know, Lord Milori is a character from Tinkerbell, he's the lord of the Winter Woods. This is him (he's the tall one, the shorter one is Dewey)

Milori is an amputee. He's missing around half of the top portion of his right wing. This is because he is a cold-weather fairy, and his wings are suited for the eternal cold of the Winter Woods so they get damaged by heat. Long story short, he went into the warmer seasons and the heat broke his wing. Because of this, Milori doesn't fly himself, instead either walking or using an owl to fly.

But why?

Pixie dust makes things fly, right? We see beings without wings fly- the Darlings, for example, and James Hook in a movie Milori makes a brief appearance in. We even see inanimate objects fly with just a bit of pixie dust. So why is Milori unable to fly?

Let's get into this.

To my knowledge, the interaction between fairy wings and pixie dust is as follows in the movies

Fairies cannot fly without pixie dust, even if they have two fully-intact wings. We see this several times, their wings just aren't powerful enough to let them do more than hop. The pixie dust is what gives them the ability to fly, they can't do it themselves.

Wings are also not required for flight. We see humans, who have no wings, fly with the help of pixie dust, and we even see inanimate objects fly if pixie dust is applied. However, when applied to things without wings, their manoeuvrability is significantly lacking compared to the fairies. They're way clumsier and can't manage the same hairpin turns fairies manage. More on this in a second

Fairies never apply the pixie dust to their bodies, unlike humans do. They always apply it to their wings and only their wings. Why?

Pixie dust is incredibly powerful. It only takes a couple handfuls from a fairy to let a human fly, and humans are billions of times heavier than fairies. If a fairy dumped a handful of dust on themselves, it would probably send them into the stratosphere. My theory? The wings allow fairies to use pixie dust in moderation so that they don't send themselves into orbit.

Beings without wings struggle to land when under the influence of pixie dust. Fairies do not. Humans also have no control over their takeoff once the dust is applied, while fairies do.

I think that the function of the fairy's wings is control and safety. Control in that they can control how high they go, how fast they go, and how they manoeuvre. Without their wings they wouldn't have that control. Which is where safety comes in, because having no control but using such a powerful flight agent would be extremely unsafe for them. There would be almost no margin for error without the wings, and considering how it would probably only take five specks applied to their bodies for them to fly, that would essentially mean there'd be no safe way for them to use pixie dust.

So next, let's talk about Milori's wings. Here's a picture

Number one, the difference in aerodynamics between his wings would be impossible to work around. He tries to fly with those wings and he is spinning and he is crashing, there is no amount of training that could avoid that. He would not be able to use his wings at all in flight.

But would he be able to fly with pixie dust?

Probably not.

He'd have to apply it to his body, not his wings, and again, extremely tiny margin for error there. He would also have to deal with a likely extreme difference in weight- yes, the wings are very thin, but he's what, four inches tall? At that size, even a nanogram of difference between his right side and his left is going to throw off his balance hard. To him, one side of his body is significantly heavier than the other. This would be a massive problem. Sure, maybe he could add some kind of weight to his right wing to even out the balance, but even then there are problems that would prevent him from flying. Pretend for a second that there's no problem with the pixie dust, that somehow the weight difference is an issue. Even with those factors removed, there's still the learning curve.

Flying isn't as easy as birds make it look, just ask a basejumper. Self-propelled flying requires hundreds of microadjustments for every single movement. One false note could mean death. And Milori would need to learn how to do that, how to shift his weight enough that he can turn but not so severely that he crashes, how to change altitude without wings to help guide him, how to avoid accidental things like tensing in just the wrong way because that could be catastrophic- he would essentially be relearning how to use his body completely manually. His reflexes aren't going to help him anymore. He would need to learn how to move in an extremely specific and deliberate way and that's an absolutely massive task. Maybe even impossible. He is not a bird, he is a fairy. But he would need to learn how to stop using his body like a fairy and to start using it like a bird. Not even a bird, because at least they have wings to aid in manoeuvrability. That is a task so big it boggles the mind, and that's without the factors that would make him learning to do that even harder, like the weight difference. And even if he somehow masters that, it's still never going to be safe because if he makes one mistake it could kill him. Sure, maybe he could do it. But why?

Because there's either that option or there's the owl option. With the owl option, the most complicated part of relearning how to use his body is removed- he no longer has to figure out something as delicate and complicated as flying, he just needs to get used to walking, running, and climbing. It's a difficult process, sure, but nowhere near as difficult as learning to fly without using his wings and it would be significantly safer. Which is why I think he doesn't fly. Because he looked at those two options and chose the owl because the owl was the more viable option by far. Maybe he tried the other one, maybe he didn't, but either way he chose the easier option, the one that was less dangerous to him and more likely to work. The owl.

(To draw a probably far-fetched comparison, imagine having most of one leg amputated, not having a prosthetic, and trying to learn how to get around by standing on a skateboard and shifting your weight to propel yourself. That's kind of like what him learning to fly using only pixie dust would be like. Possible, maybe, but incredibly hard to do and likely is not going to work. But the owl? The owl option is like having the same disability but learning how to get around using a wheelchair. Easier learning curve, less chance of something going horrifically wrong, and a higher chance of actually working.)

The owl was a more realistic path forward, so he took the owl. It was easier, it was safer, it was more likely to work, and it let him get back to managing the entire Winter Woods faster. That's why he doesn't fly even if it's technically an option.

[nabaath-areng]

Been impossible to take photos of these nails due to horrible weather lighting, but since it was specifically inspired by Ieeha I needed to figure out a way... thank you closet for having surprisingly decent lighting and dresses for being a surprisingly decent backdrop!!!

[byanyan]

no one:

literally not a single person:

me: is byan really just adhd... or are they perhaps actually audhd......

[chewablepebbles]

Sometimes it feels soooo weird not being depressed anymore

[zellk]

I have begun to ponder about Lana and Rena in Hades II... All the witches stuff suddenly makes it so fucking easy to add them in.... Hopefully some art to come about all this will come......