#after being removed from the traumatic situation

[soaps-mohawk]

(i apologize in advance as this is probably gonna be long as hell. I love Price so my brain just honed in on him this latest chapter, sorry for the rant but i. am. invested.)

Since Price always has and always will be my favorite character in both canon and AUs, it breaks my heart (in a good way) to see him doubt his entire person. It almost feels like he could sit on the edge of the bed after yet another sleepless night, sigh and just go "i'm leaving the pack". Saying Simon can take over and that he never should have marked anyone, not even Kyle, because of his lifestyle and personality. Not sure if it's the same as canon in this fic, but Price has been a military man since he was a teen. He's not going to leave it, not even sure he can even if he wanted to and it has shaped him as a human. With him now being so experienced, (traumatized), mature and capable of cold hard logic, I could see him looking at the current situation and just going "this isn't working", identifying himself as the biggest reason for it not working and attempting to remove himself just as coldly as he would leave fatally wounded soldiers in the field or blowing up civilians (like in the 2019 game with the bomb hostage) because that's just what you have to do sometimes for the greater good. I could see him sitting down and having this talk with Simon over a cigar. Not sure how this AUs Simon would respond though, especially with the current situation..

A lot of focus is always on omegas (for understandable reasons) in omegaverse AUs when it comes to weakness, doubt and hurt because alphas are the strong providers and protectors with all the power, both physically and emotionally. It's nice to see fics where alphas aren't some indestructible machines that don't get affected when things happen. They're even more sensitive than omegas if you look at things close enough. Just look a little too long at their omega and they're ready to throw hands like immature teenagers.

All that to say; Even if it hurts, I'm always glad to see Price get some focus, especially as the packs leader. And always looking forward to updates!

I love long as hell asks, so bring it on!!!

Mhm mhm I agree with this 100%. John is such an interesting character to flesh out because he's totally committed to his job, even if it means sacrificing others. And now he's having to face that in this fic, not just with his team and pack, but also with 'mega. He's being hit with that reality right now. He has a lot of hard decisions to make. Does he continue with his lifestyle or does he leave the military? Does he leave the pack and live with that pain forever for the sake of doing what he's always done, or does he face the fact that his life has changed drastically and now he has to leave to take care of his pack and omega? That's a huge conflict for him in this part of the story, as well as the rest of the pack. His decision is going to change them forever, one way or another. They all have decisions to make, but they can't really do that without knowing what he's going to do.

I do 100% agree with that too. Alphas get portrayed as these big, tough people that have no emotion except provide and protect and they get watered down so much when really they'd be so emotional. Probably more-so than omegas at their core.

I love showing stuff from Price's POV. He has such a contrasting POV from 'mega and I think it's important to show kind of what's going through his head in different situations since there's so much that weighs on him and his decisions. It's also just fun to show other POVs besides 'mega's. I love exploring things from other perspectives.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Feel like making people miserable today. Anyways, here's Gon experiencing like. Textbook symptoms of trauma in the CAA, in case there was any lingering doubt about this or anything:

Initial denial that the experience happened or was traumatic

[ID: A screenshot from episode 85 of HxH 2011. Gon, eyes bright and with a smile, says "Kite is alive!" End ID.]

Flashbacks

[ID: Two screenshots from episode 95, and a third from episode 110. In the first, Kite's arm is shown in the foreground, bleeding and blurred. In the second, a close of Pitou's wide eyes, looking animalistic. In the last, puppet Kite's mangled and scarred face stares emptily ahead - the scene is greyed out. End ID.]

Intense distress at real or symbolic reminders of the trauma

[ID: Two screenshots from episode 116. In the first, Gon's fist can be seen in the foreground, with Pitou shielding an unconscious Komugi just barely seen. The narrator says "The girl lying before them brought back". In the second, Komugi has a medical respirator on. The narrator continues "images of a broken Kite to Gon's mind". End ID.]

Physical sensations such as pain, sweating, nausea or trembling

[ID: A screenshot from episode 116. Gon's fists slam into the ground as he says "That isn't fair...". Sweat drips down his arms. End ID.]

Extreme alertness/hypervigilance

[ID: A screenshot from episode 116. Part of Pitou can be seen in the foreground as Gon stares at them intensely, crouched on the ground with his arm resting on his knee, obscuring his lower face. End ID.]

Angry outbursts or other extreme behaviour

[ID: Two screenshots, one from episode 116, and the other from episode 127. In the first, Gon shouts "Is something wrong with you?!" as his face contorts with rage. His aura floats black around him. In the second, Gon, his face shadowed eerily with thin lines, says "The next time you try to delay me, I'll kill her." End ID.]

Feeling like you have to keep busy

[ID: A screenshot from episode 94. A close up of Gon's face from the side as he says "I want to focus on my training." End ID.]

Doing things that are reckless and self-destructive

[ID: Three screenshots, one from episode 95 and the other two from episode 131. The first is stylized as a black outline of Gon's figure over a background like parchment or a projector - he's been hit in the face and sent to the right from the force of the blow. The second is a close up of Gon's face, almost completely shadowed, with intense and vacant eyes - he says "I don't care". The third continues with a close up of his eye filling with darkness - "if this is the end..." End ID.]

Feeling like nobody understands ("since it means nothing to you")

[ID: A screenshot from episode 116. In a whitish-room with a crack on the wall between them, Gon stands ahead of Killua, facing away from him. They are both in shadow. End ID.]

Ignoring offers of help and shutting out loved ones... poor Killua :(

[ID: A screenshot from episode 136. A spotlight on both Killua, in the foreground, and Gon, walking away from him in the background. Killua thinks "I wanted you to ask for my help in defeating Pitou!" End ID.]

Self-loathing, self-punishment, and lack of self regard

[ID: Three screenshots, two from episode 110 and the third from episode 131. The first is a close up of Gon's face over Morel asking "When would you try to hurt yourself?" The second is a continuation. Morel looks down at Gon who is facing away from the camera as Gon replies "When I couldn't forgive myself." In the last, adult Gon, staring ahead, is animated in black and white with the only colour being the blood from the stump of his right arm. His left hand grips his shoulder. End ID.]

Blaming yourself for what happened

[ID: Two screenshots, one from episode 95 and the other from episode 130. In the first, Gon hugs puppet Kite around his waist. In the second, Gon stares blankly ahead with tears streaming down his face as he thinks "I killed Kite." End ID.]

Overwhelming feelings of anger, sadness, guilt, and shame

[unboundprompts]

Hello!!! I hope you don't mind doing this one,

Can you help me write a traumatized person who's having trouble talking because of past trauma? (They can still interact with people, but only with signs and movements, not voice) and also a little anxious

Tell me if you need more details =)

How to Write a Mute / Non-Speaking Character

-> healthline.com

-> verywellhealth.com

-> descriptionary.wordpress.com

Types of Mutism:

selective mutism: having the ability to speak but feeling unable to.

organic mutism: mutism caused by brain injury, such as with drug use or after a stroke.

cerebellar mutism: mutism caused by the removal of a brain tumor from a part of the skull surrounding the cerebellum, which controls coordination and balance.

aphasia: when people find it difficult to speak because of stroke, brain tumor, or head injury.

What Causes Selective Mutism in Adults?

having another anxiety condition, like separation anxiety or social anxiety

experiencing physical, emotional, or sexual abuse

having a family history of selective mutism or social anxiety

having fewer opportunities for social contact

having an extremely shy personality

having a speech or language disorder, learning disability, or sensory processing disorder

parent-child enmeshment, or lack of clear boundaries in the relationship

traumatic experiences

Traumatic Mutism vs Trauma-Induced Selective Mutism

if you have traumatic mutism, you may be unable to talk in all situations following a trauma.

with trauma-induced selective mutism, you may find it impossible to talk only in certain situations-- for example, in front of the person who hurt you or in a setting that resembles the circumstances of your trauma.

Different Ways Individuals with Mutism May Choose to Communicate:

Nonverbal Communication: they may rely on facial expressions, gestures, eye contact, and body language to convey their thoughts, emotions, and intentions.

Writing or Typing: they may use a pen and paper, digital devices, or communication apps to write messages, notes, or responses.

Sign Language: they can convey meaning, emotions, and engage in complex conversations through hand signs, facial expressions, and body movements.

Augmentative and Alternative Communication (AAC) Devices: these devices provide individuals with a range of tools and technologies to support their communication needs. They can include speech-generating devices, picture boards, apps, or software that allows users to select words, phrases, or symbols to generate spoken or written output.

Communication Boards and Visual Aids: Communication boards or charts with pictures, symbols, or words can assist individuals in conveying their messages.

Assistive Technology: various assistive technologies, such as speech-to-text apps, text-to-speech programs, or eye-tracking devices that aid individuals with communication.

Tips on Writing a Mute / Non-Speaking Character:

Explore the vast array of nonverbal cues such as facial expressions, body language, gestures, and eye contact. Use descriptions to convey their intentions and reactions.

Utilize internal dialogue. Offer readers a window into their internal thought process, and turn their internal dialogue into a narrative that reveals their inner struggles, triumphs, and complexities so that reader can connect with the character.

Establish a communication system that is unique to your character (Sign language, written notes, telepathy in a fantasy setting, etc.). Having a communication system allows your character to interact with other characters and contribute to the narrative.

Surround them with Understanding Characters that can aid in communcation and fostering meaningful relationships.

Establish the Barriers/Conflicts They'll Experience. Don't forget to be realistic.

Your character is not defined by their inability to speak. Make sure you do not write stereotypes and cliches. Being mute is only one aspect of their identity rather than their defining trait.

Do your research! Seek out firsthand accounts, experiences, and perspectives. Check out online forums and resources to gain insights into their unique challenges, adaptations, and strengths.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

[b0ng05]

Over this - Toxic!Amber Freeman x Reader

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Word Count: 6151

Prompt: Y/n receives a text from an unknown number. Only to find out it's her ex. She can't help but think about all the toxic stuff Amber did to her.

Warnings: Toxic Relationship! Mentions of abuse! Angst!!

Also, Not Proofread💅

Masterlist

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Unknown: Hey, you awake? 11:21 p.m.

Unknown: It’s Amber 11:22 p.m.

I thought I was over it. I thought things had been left in the past. I thought she forgot about me. But after receiving a text from an unknown number, it was clear she didn’t. I laid in my bed, gazing at my ceiling as tears streamed down my face. It had been over 3 years. Yet the traumatizing memories that flooded back in felt so very fresh. Each incident vividly clear as my eyes fluttered shut.

Amber stares into her mirror, adjusting her dark hair and touching up her makeup. My arms were wrapped around her waist, my hand gently rubbing her stomach as I watched over her shoulder. Her TV was hooked up to her phone, playing her playlist that wasn’t all that rangeful. Most of the songs were just replaying, mainly the same artist’s songs. It was getting quite bland hearing the same voice over and over for the past hour. But I endured it while staring at her, utterly smitten.

“Isn’t she kind of overrated?” I tease playfully, referencing the artist singing, knowing she was one of Amber’s favorites. While poking Amber’s side in a playful manner, hoping to gain her attention for at least a moment. Having had been watching Amber for a while with no commentary or affection on her end for 15 minutes. Not that I minded, being with her felt more than enough.

Instead of hearing a sarcastic quip back from her like usual, my head is whipped to the side faster than I can register. Her hand hung in the air, giving me an explanation to my now turned face. “You just slapped me.” I say slowly, registering what the fuck just happened. “Yeah. Quit saying dumb shit.” She scoffs, turning back to her reflection, quite unfazed with her own actions.

I remove my arms from her waist after seeing the forming red print of her hand on my cheek in the reflection of her mirror. I backed up, going to grab my phone off her charger to leave, wanting out of the situation. But before I can even make it three steps away, her hand is wrapped tightly around my wrist in a strong grip. She turns me to face her, one hand trailing my hip.

“Where are you going?” She asks, her tone turning seraphic and sweet. “I’m leaving, I don’t want to be here.” I say, trying to move away from her grip to no avail. “Oh don’t be a baby. You know I didn’t mean it, Y/n/n. You know I wouldn’t hurt you like that seriously.” Amber's deceptively sweet tone calls out. Her hand moved to caress my cheek softly.

“Don’t go. Please?” Amber hums softly, a small pout on her lips and her eyes pleading with my own. I give in, unable to ignore the ache in my heart at the desperate look in her eyes. I put my phone down and move to sit beside her once more.

That was just the beginning of a toxic relationship that was to soon blossom. A lesson that I wasn’t aware I needed to learn. You hear the stories of toxic relationships and think it could never happen to you, that you would never fall for the sob stories and the twisted manipulative ways of lovers that seek oblivious prey.

Amber and I were at Tara’s house, all sitting in her living room watching some action movie on the TV. I was curled up to Amber’s side, her arm wrapped around my shoulder. Tara was sitting on the other side of me, her arm resting on the armrest and her chin resting in the palm of her hand. Tara lets out a huff of a laugh as a new actress enters the scene of the movie.

“Don’t you think that chick’s dress is ugly?” Tara jokes, the dress the actress wore was adorned with yellow and orange polka dots with a weird neckline that was not at all flattering for the actress’s figure. “I don’t think you should be judging Tara, especially with your body,” Amber chuckles as she glances over at Tara with a douchy smirk. Her hand rubbing along my shoulder as they have a moment of a silent stare off.

“Fuck off,” Tara mumbles, before setting her popcorn bowl down on the coffee table and walking upstairs to her room. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I whisper, looking at her completely disgusted with her rude behavior. “Oh come on, it was just a joke. She’ll get over it.” Amber rolls her eyes, attempting to pull me closer to her embrace.

“No. That was seriously fucked up. You don’t comment on someone else’s body.” I state, removing her arm from me as I stand up, going to follow Tara upstairs to apologize for Amber’s unacceptable behavior. “Seriously? Tara made a mean comment and you didn’t give her the cold shoulder!” Amber huffs, as she stands up, her arms raised outward in anger as she tries to make an excuse. “No. She commented on a dress design that was ugly. Not the woman’s body.” I scoff, walking over to the stairs. Fully intending to apologize to Tara on Amber’s behalf.

As I step on the landing to walk up the stairs, my vision goes black. Everything was too fast to understand. I feel a heavy pressure around my neck, and the back of my head aches with the force it slammed into the wall with. My body feels a numb tingly feeling, my legs much like jelly. As my vision tunnels back in, the sight I’m met with is Amber’s hand around my throat, slamming me against the wall behind me. Her grip was so tight that I could barely gasp for breath, surely to bruise later on. Her eyes were darker than before, the look was terrifying and had a sadistic essence that left my skin crawling and spine shivering. Her cocky smile no longer there, in place was a twitching snarl. I felt my heart drop in utter fear.

Before I could say an attempt to stutter out anything, she tried to play off her violent actions after seeing the fear written on my face. Her lips shifted into a flirty smirk, and leaning in to kiss me, her lips pressed against mine in a bruising manner that left mine aching and not in a good way, her hand still gripping my around throat tightly. As my senses start to come back to me, I push her away as hard as I can, making her stumble back a bit, and then I rush upstairs to Tara’s room, not bothering to knock. I open the door and shut it behind me. Tara looks up at me bewildered as she sees the fear, betrayal and confusion written on my face.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Tara asks, getting up from her bed to wrap her arms around me in soft gentle embrace. “I- I um- I’m sorry for how Amber was acting, it wasn’t right.” I apologize, struggling to find the words that I desperately wanted to speak. Fear eating at my mind, knowing Amber was just beyond the door. “Hey, hey, no, you don’t have to apologize for her, Y/n. She is her own person, and so are you, okay?” Tara soothes, her hand softly rubbing my back trying to comfort me. “I-”

Before I could speak another word, the door swung open, Amber entering the room. Her gaze hardens at the sight. She walks over and grabs my wrist, pulling me towards the door. “We gotta head out,” Amber states, but her tone was more so demanding. “What- wait-” Tara tries to intervene but to no avail with the intense glare that Amber sent her way.

Amber drags me out of Tara’s room towards the stairs, and once we got downstairs, she didn’t waste a second getting us out the front door and into her car. “What did you say to her?” Amber demands as she enters the driver’s seat of her car.

She quickly floors it out of Tara’s driveway, taking a left turn, wheels squealing, meaning we were going in the direction of her house. My stomach turns, a sickening feeling overcoming me at the sound of her tone and the look in her eyes. Mentally, I couldn’t help but think back to the psychology class Amber and I had attended yesterday at school. More so the lesson, the one on gut-brain connection. Never thought I’d actually use the information, but seeing and feeling it happen in real time made something click in my brain. I didn’t deserve this.

“I just apologized for you being an asshole.” I huffed, a new found confidence bestowed in my mind. “Excuse you? I was the asshole? No. You were a bitch for running off when I was trying to kiss you and make up.” Amber quips, her face contorting in anger and annoyance as she grips the steering wheel tightly. “You’re the one that wants to be a stubborn bitch about everything.”

“You put your fucking hands on me. I had a pretty good fucking reason to run. Pullover.” I uncross my arms, one hand going for the door handle. “No! I’m not fucking pulling over.” Amber seethes, running a hand through her hair in frustration.

“I don’t want to be near you right now! Pull over.” I demand, my head whipping to the car door when I hear her press the lock button on her side of the car. “I’m not fucking pulling over, we are gonna talk this out. I don’t wanna lose you!” Amber starts to make herself cry, a skill she had mastered in order to manipulate me into letting her have her way.

My phone starts to ring in my back pocket, I pull it out and check the screen, the caller ID showing my mom’s name. I let out a sigh of relief. “My mom is calling.” I state. I don’t bother to glance at her direction as I answer the phone. My parents taking priority over my highschool girlfriend. “Hey honey, we need you to come home and watch the dog. Your father and I are going out for date night,” My mom’s soothing voice informs.

“Yeah of course, I’ll be home in a few.” I say before ending the call, making sure to say an ‘I love you’ at the end. “My parents need me home.” I state. “Okay, so we’ll talk this out at your house.” Amber nods, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her hoodie.

“No, my parents don’t want anyone over while I’m home alone, and they just got new cameras installed last week.” I throw in a lie at the end, just craving some space away from her.

I had spent my whole summer, every single day at her home, at her side. It was already halfway through the school year and I still barely had room to breathe with her constantly at my side. Not only that, but she had been so controlling. The whole summer, she would refuse to let me go home when I wanted to unless my parents called me practically begging me to come back home. She went through my phone, blocking every friend that she deemed a threat to our relationship, some that didn’t even do anything wrong at all. All just so she could feel more in control of our relationship.

“Okay, so you can still facetime me when you get home right?” Amber asks sternly, her hand moving to grip mine in a tight grasp. “Yeah, I’ll call you after my parents leave.” I lie through my teeth, planning to fake a low battery before the call.

“Okay… Promise?” Amber asks, glancing at me for a brief moment before her eyes turn back to the road, taking a turn towards my house to drop me off. “I promise.” I nod, lifting her hand up to my lips to kiss the back of it. She smiles and caresses the back of my hand with her thumb. “Also, we gotta talk about Tara. I don’t want us hanging out with her anymore.” Amber commands. “But why? I thought you liked Tara? She’s nice.” I say bewildered by her.

“Yeah, a little too nice to you.” Amber scoffs, her hand moving to grip my thigh possessively, “You are mine, and I don’t want you seeing her. Is that clear?” Amber questions, her hand gripping my thigh in an increasingly painful grip. “Yes ma’am.” I mumble, wincing in pain.

“Good girl.” Amber smirks in satisfaction as her hand gently rubs over when her nail marks are now indented. Amber turns into the driveway of my house, parking her car in the driveway. She turns to me, reaching out to caress my cheek. Looking at me with the same look that always won me over. “I’m gonna miss you.” Amber pouts, tracing over my bottom lip with her thumb.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” I say, feeling a pang of guilt at the sight of her pout. “Okay… Give me one more kiss?” She asks, leaning closer, her breath brushing against my lips. “Okay,” I nod, leaning in to kiss her softly before pulling away. “I love you,” Amber calls as I unbuckle my seatbelt and open the car door. “I love you too…” I say back before closing the car door behind me.

I walk up my driveway, feeling her eyes on me as I get to the door. I quickly get inside and lock the door behind me. Upon entering, my mom appears from the entrance of the kitchen. “There you are,” She walks over to me, “Your dad and I will be back in a couple hours, take care of our dog, alright? Make sure he isn’t lonely.” My mom laughs a bit at the end as she hugs me.

She grabs her purse and coat, “Let’s go!” She yells up the stairs to my dad who was taking his precious time on his hair. He quickly rushes down the stairs, nearly tripping down them, but catching himself with a nervous smile as he looks over at my mom who was unamused by his inability to be careful. “We’ll be back soon, love you kiddo,” My dad grins, patting my shoulder before offering his arm out to my mom as they walk out to their car.

Once they exit, I make sure the front door is locked, checking the back door too. No, I wasn’t expecting Amber to show up again, but I wouldn’t put it past her. Once I made sure they were secure, I called my dog to come with me up to my bedroom.

Unknown: Hey, you awake? 11:21 p.m.

Unknown: It’s Amber 11:22 p.m.

Unknown: I miss you 11:24 p.m.

I sigh as I rub my eyes with the back of my hands. It hurts to think I was so naive. And now, with her texting me, it was all just carving open old wounds that weren’t fully finished healing. A speedy thump to the heart in my chest, one that I didn’t want but couldn’t control. My mind flashes with memories that I wish I could forget.

We were laying in Amber’s bed, her head resting on my chest as we watched videos on my phone that I held on my stomach. Her hand was softly rubbing my hip. “She looks familiar.��� I comment, referring to the woman in the video who was explaining an ongoing situation in the world. “You think she’s pretty, don’t you?” Amber scoffs, lifting her head off my chest to look back up at me with an unamused look, her eyebrows furrowed.

“No, I’m just saying that I think I’ve seen her videos before,” I elaborate, softing stroking her hair trying to ease her mind. “Don’t fucking lie to me.” Amber scoffs, sitting up and taking my phone out of my hand. “I’m not lying, baby. I promise.” I say softly, my hand moving to gently caress her cheek, but she pushes my hand away. “I can’t even trust anything you fucking say.” Amber gets up from the bed, pacing her room, her face contorted in anger, that dark look in her eyes coming back.

I felt my heart race in my chest, not liking when she got like this, usually I could calm her down before a total meltdown. “You’re such a fucking liar! I saw you at school talking to Tara on Tuesday, y’know that?!” She seethes, lifting her arm back as she chucked my phone with no intent in direction. It felt like it happened in slow motion as the phone smacked me right in the face, hitting my nose and lip in a harsh manner. My hands quickly rush to cradle my face in pain.

“Fuck!” I cry in pain, blood gushing from my nose, my lip now busted from being pinched hard between my tooth and phone. Blood dripped down my lip and momentarily stained my teeth. “God don’t be so dramatic, it was an accident.” Amber rolls her eyes as she grabs a towel that was hanging off the back of her closet, walking over to hold it to my face.

“One that you could have fucking prevented!” I scoff, trying to push her hands away as I tried to hold the towel myself. “Baby, you know I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t do that to you on purpose, I just got angry” Her tone turns sweet and soft, her hand running soothingly through my hair. “But you did!” I say, trying to move away from her. “It wasn’t my fault!” Amber huffs, pulling me into her arms, tight enough that I couldn’t get away.

She leans down and presses soft kisses on my cheek, whispering sweet nothings to calm me down and get me to stop trying to squirm away. After almost 20 minutes, I no longer fought her embrace, rather leaning into it as she rubbed my back softly. Her hand holding the towel to my face, coddling me. My mind was busy thinking on how I would explain the injuries to my mom when I got home.

Unknown: Hey, you awake? 11:21 p.m.

Unknown: It’s Amber 11:22 p.m.

Unknown: I miss you 11:24 p.m.

Unknown: Please baby 11:27 p.m.

I let out a shaky breath, my eyes closed as I stewed in my thoughts. My hand brought up to my face, tracing over where the bump on my lip used to reside, the memories felt so fresh that I could almost feel the old wound. Then another memory flashed through my head, an invisible stake of pain piercing through the back of my skull. Remembering her was only gutting my stability further.

Amber and I were walking around a bar in a busy part of town, her mom was a busy woman, and one of her friends was having a cancer benefit. Her mother was only able to attend for 30 minutes before having to leave for a work meeting. She requested that Amber and I stay behind in her place, also asking us to make sure her name was at the top of all the raffle items for the benefit. Amber agreed after being lectured by her mother. I remained by her side, trying to be a supportive girlfriend.

We walked into the room that held the raffle buckets next to the items and the clipboard to list your name along with your bid for the item. Amber’s mother did not spare a dime with the tickets she bought, wanting to be as supporting as she can for her friend, as well as wanting to win a full massage and mani pedi. “God this is boring,” Amber whispers, guiding me to a wall for us to lean on. I lean my back against the cold brick wall, Amber moving to stand in front of me, her hand caressing my waist. “Calm down, we only have to be here for a bit longer like your mom asked.” I mumble quietly, my eyes scanning the room, observing the people in the crowded area. “Why not make it a little interesting~?” Amber smirks, her hand moving to cup my jaw as she leans in and connects her lips with mine, trying to start a heated makeout session, I push her back slightly. “I don’t feel like this is appropriate. This isn’t the time or place, I don’t feel comfortable doing this here.” I voice my concerns softly, trying not to upset her as I caress her cheek gently.

“Uhuh sure~” Amber’s smirk doesn’t falter as she leans in and forces her lips against mine once more. My hands move to her shoulders trying to push her back. Her hands move to grip my waist tighter, trapping me between the wall and her. With the crowd as busy and as drunk as they were, didn’t notice my struggle. Except for one woman, who just so happened to be working at the cancer benefit. “Excuse me, you two need to go. Out. Now.” An older woman with dark brown hair and a Monroe piercing scolds, her thin eyebrow quirked up.

I recognized her as one of the women Amber’s mother was talking with earlier before she took her leave. I felt a disgusting guilt building up inside me. I felt dirty, not in a good way, in a vile way. Amber knew how I felt about PDA, especially in settings like this. “Yeah, yeah.” Amber rolls her eyes, smiling cockily as she grabs my hand dragging me out of the room into the bar area where they would soon announce the winners. I went to sit down on one of the only empty stools left, but Amber stopped me, sitting down in the seat, making me stand in front of her as she wrapped her arms around my shoulders. A blonde woman with glasses in an olive green dress stood up to begin announcing the winners from the raffle and bids. After a harrowing thirty minutes, all the winners were announced, none of which were Amber’s mother. My legs were killing me, having stood the whole time with the pressure of Amber’s head and arms resting on me.

“Whatever, let’s go.” Amber scoffs, feeling some sort of selfish anger for having wasted her time. I couldn’t understand her anger. But Amber got mad over a lot of minor things, so it wasn’t really a surprise that this was sparking a flame of anger in her. Amber grabbed my hand and dragged me through the crowds of people in the small bar. We get out the door and after a few steps outside, Amber stops me. She was shivering, having worn only a t-shirt and jeans in the middle of fall.

“Give me your hoodie.” She states, holding out her pale ringed hand. “Why? You chose to not wear a hoodie when I told you to wear one.” I say, my eyebrows furrowing, still kind of pissed off about her making me stand up the whole half hour. “Maybe because I’m your fucking girlfriend and your ride home.” Amber snaps back, her jaw clenching as she snaps her fingers, cueing me to give her the hoodie. “Okay..” I sigh, peeling off my dark green hoodie and handing it to the girl, leaving me in t-shirt and cargo pants. I didn’t want to walk home tonight, so I didn’t see the point in arguing with her further. I could feel the cold dry sting of the air hit me. I shivered, and we began to walk to her car. When we got to her car, she was livid, the parking meter had expired, a ticket sat under the windshield wiper. Her eye twitched a bit as she hastily walked over, snatching the ticket off the windshield and getting in the car. I quickly follow suit, not wanting to piss her off more. I get into the car, shutting the door behind me. I buckle my seatbelt, feeling an absolute need to, knowing she’s seething in anger. As I got in, she seemed cool for a minute, before her fist drove into the steering wheel, punching repeatedly. I reached out and held her hand with mine, preventing her fist from hitting it again, not wanting her to hurt herself. I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean over, holding her head to my chest, embracing her tightly. I move over to straddle her lap. Her arms wrap around me, holding me breathlessly tight, letting out a frustrated and muffled cry out into my chest.

I felt guilty. She was having a hard day already, her mom yelled at her earlier, a woman scolded us, she was upset about the raffle, I argued about the hoodie, and now she has a ticket. I kissed the crown of her forehead and whispered sweet nothings trying to calm her down. Once her breathing was more normal, I pulled back and looked back into her eyes, feeling a jolt to my heart as hers met mine.

“You okay?” I whisper softly, kissing her cheek a few times. Her lips were puffed out in a small pout and her eyes were teary as she stared back at me. “I’m sorry, I just- I got overwhelmed.” Amber mumbles, pressing her face back into my chest

Unknown: Hey, you awake? 11:21 p.m.

Unknown: It’s Amber 11:22 p.m.

Unknown: I miss you 11:24 p.m.

Unknown: Please baby 11:27 p.m.

Unknown: I need you 11:30 p.m.

I bit my bottom lip, as I thought about her eyes. Back then, I thought I always saw her eyes softening when she gazed back at me, but now that it’s been years, I have come to realize it was her loving the power and control she had over me. The way she had me wrapped around her finger no matter what.

It was a few days after the incident where she had slapped me over a joke I made about her music.

Amber and I were cuddling in her bed when my phone buzzed in the sheets next to us. She picked it up and checked the notification. My head was nuzzled into the crook of her neck, her hand that wasn’t occupied with my phone was stroking my hair softly. “Your ex fucking texted you.” Amber scoffs, opening the text. Her hand stopped stroking my hair, moving to aid her other hand with the phone.

“Block her,” I mumble, too sleepy to care about whatever my ex wants. “She said she found your hoodie and wants you to come pick it up.” Amber says after reading the text. “Tell her to throw it away.” I say, pressing a soft kiss to her neck. “No, actually…” Amber pauses thinking, “Go pick up the hoodie.” She states, pushing my head off her neck. “Why? I don’t want it.” I huff, a bit pouty about her ruining my comfortable position.

“Well I do, because then the next time that bitch stalks your instagram, she’ll get the pleasure of seeing me in your hoodie.” Amber smirks, handing my phone back to me. “Why does it matter if it’s that one? You’re on my instagram wearing my hoodies in most of our pictures,” I ask confusedly as I lean over to kiss her cheek before putting my phone in my pocket. “Because, I get to rub it in that you’re mine. If she’s willing to go through the trouble of giving you your hoodie back, she gets to go through the trouble of seeing me in it later.” Amber states before kissing me softly. “Now go get that hoodie.” She smiles, waving me off. Within a ten minute walk, I was outside my ex’s house. She stood on her burgundy colored porch, holding a familiar black hoodie in her hands. I walked up to the stairs of her porch. She smiles at me, sitting down on one of the steps as she hands it to me. “Hey… how are you?” She asks, her tone nothing but friendly.

Before she and I had broken up, we used to be close friends. Even after the break up, we remained friends until I met Amber. We broke up for the main reason that while being with me, she discovered that what she thought were romantic feelings towards me were nothing but platonic. I had felt the same way and hence the being friends thing. “I’m okay, how are you?” I ask, my voice a little rough from having walked over on a hot summer day with no water. “I’m alright. But I’m worried about you,” She pauses, “Mindy told me that you stopped talking to most of the group. What’s going on with you?” She asks softly, her hand touching my shoulder in a comforting manner. I let out a shaky sigh as tears welled up in my eyes. “Things have been difficult lately.” I state vaguely, running a hand through my hair. “What do you mean? You can talk to me. You know I won’t say a thing,” She says, knowing I’ve had a past of people telling my business to other people who have no right to it. “Amber has been getting more controlling, and well…” I sigh and wipe my face with my hand. “And what?” She whispers softly, trying to remain supportive and comforting. “She slapped me the other day,” I mumble, not wanting to have to face the reality, but knowing I need to. “What? Y/n, that’s not okay,” A small gasp comes from her mouth as she rubs my arm comfortingly. She knew this kind of behavior from anyone, especially a teenager, wasn’t okay whatsoever. She didn’t honestly have any other words besides, “You need to tell an adult.” She pauses her words, to try to lay them out more kindly, “What she’s doing isn’t right. You don’t deserve to be hurt.” She says. My phone buzzes in my back pocket, I pull it out to check it. The realization of how much time had passed brings me concern as the notification from Amber popped up. She asked what was taking me so long, and told me to hurry up.

“I gotta go, I’m sorry,” I say, slipping my phone back in my pocket before turning to walk off, missing the look of pity that my ex sent me as I walked off. I quickly hurried back to Amber’s house, despite the smoldering heat that threatened to wind me down to the sidewalk. I get back to her house, to see her waiting on her couch with her feet propped up on the dark brown coffee table in front of her. “You get the hoodie?” Amber asks, looking up from her phone. “Y- yeah.” I say through heavy breaths. I toss it over to her. She picks it up, inspecting it and the design.

“What took you so long?” She interrogates, looking back up at me with a bated stare.

“It was a long walk in hot heat,” I excuse, moving to sit beside her as I pick up her water bottle off the table to take a swig. “BS, what took you so long?” She scoffs, turning to face me with a raised brow. “My ex asked how I was doing,” I admit, looking up to meet her eyes. “And what did you say?” Amber asks, squinting her eyes. “I said I was fine,” I shrug, setting the water bottle back down on the table. “And that was it?” Amber asks, not convinced at all. “That was it.” I say, my eyes accidentally diverting from hers out of guilt. “Bullshit. What else?” She demands, grabbing my chin to force me to look at her. “She said that Mindy told her I wasn’t coming around the group as much anymore.” I admit further, wanting her to let my chin out of her tight grip. Amber lets out a dark chuckle, pinching the bridge of her nose. “A whole month without speaking to you and she still can’t keep you off her damn mind. No wonder I felt the need to keep you away from her.” Amber rolls her eyes, pulling me into her lap. I don’t say anything, not wanting to argue and cause a bigger reaction from her. Instead I silently snuggled up to the crook of her neck as she ran her ringed hand over my back in small soothing circles.

Unknown: Hey, you awake? 11:21 p.m.

Unknown: It’s Amber 11:22 p.m.

Unknown: I miss you 11:24 p.m.

Unknown: Please baby 11:27 p.m.

Unknown: I need you 11:30 p.m.

Unknown: Answer babe 11:33 p.m.

I didn’t hate her, after all the bullshit she did then. Not until Richie. That’s when I started to.

I walked into Amber’s home, a happy grin along my lips. I came over planning to surprise her with a cute box of snacks and drinks I made for her. I spent hours on the box alone, painting each side, attempting to recreate her favorite Stab movie covers on each side, paying close attention to each detail to try and make it near perfect for her. The box was nearly overflowing in her favorite snacks and drinks. I walked up the stairs towards her bedroom, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion as I heard a bed creaking. I didn’t see anyone else’s car in the driveway so I made the stupid assumption of her having a reasonable explanation like taking care of her own needs. I balance the box on the side of my hip as I open her bedroom door. What I didn’t expect to see was Richie on top of her as she moaned out his name. The box dropped from under my arm, loudly crashing to the floor, capturing the attention of both of them. Amber’s eyes widened as she was at a loss for words. I saved her the brain power by running out of the house and driving away before she could even reach me. By the time I reached my house, I ran inside, tears leaving my eyes as I called one person that I thought I’d never call again. Tara. I called Tara. No explanation, just telling her I needed her to come to my house immediately. I went to each door and window in my house, making sure they were locked and if possible covered with the curtains and blinds. Knowing that Amber was persistent and if I didn’t pick up her calls eventually, she’d show up. I just prayed Tara would be here before then. I needed to tell someone the truth, because I didn’t quite frankly know what to do with it. Being a teenager, you don’t expect to be used like a punching bag or cheated on with a grown ass man.

I was sitting on my living room couch, my phone was tossed on the coffee table, buzzing with texts from Amber. All I knew was that I didn’t want to hear it. As I cried on the couch, a knock on the front door broke me from my sob session. I got up quickly, making my way to the door quietly before peaking out the peephole, seeing Tara standing at my doorstep. I unlock and open the door, letting the girl in before locking the door back up.

“Hey, what’s going on with you?” Tara asks softly, seeing my tear stained face. I shake my head to prevent a sob from breaking through as I hug her, burying my head in her shoulder. As my cries wrack my body, she holds me close, stroking my hair softly, shushing my cries. “It’s gonna be okay, we’ll get over this.” She whispered, unsure of what the situation was, but more than willing to try and help.

Unknown: Hey, you awake? 11:21 p.m.

Unknown: It’s Amber 11:22 p.m.

Unknown: I miss you 11:24 p.m.

Unknown: Please baby 11:27 p.m.

Unknown: I need you 11:30 p.m.

Unknown: Answer babe 11:31 p.m.

Unknown: Fucking answer me 11:33 p.m.

“Babe, turn your phone off, I can’t sleep with the constant notifications,” A tired brunette groans beside me in bed. She turns over in the sheets, burying her face in the crook of my neck with a tired pout. “Sorry, love. I’ll turn it off.” I kiss the top of Tara’s head, turning the do not disturb on my phone. I hover my finger over the button on my phone screen. I press down on the block button. I’m over this.

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 35

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Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 7.2K - This definitely could have been split into multiple parts but I started foaming at the mouth and have no self control.

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

Additional Note: You may have noticed that I’ve replaced all the images in previous parts with GIFs or photos linked to their original sources. A friend was helping me with the original images and I later found out they were primarily using AI-generated content. To support independent artistry, I’ve decided to remove those images and replace them with original works that include links to the sources. This decision aims to combat the negative impact AI can have on artists and creators. I apologize for the earlier oversight and will ensure to uphold artistic integrity going forward.

Three days. Three days in the House of Wind with just Azriel. The thought was exhilarating and a little terrifying, as you pondered the possibilities of what those days might hold. Azriel did have his personal home in Velaris, the Town House, but since your return, he had essentially relocated his life to the House of Wind to be near you. Now, you had three days of isolation with him, or so you thought.

Nesta paced about your room, her bare feet whispering against the plush blue carpet. You sat cross-legged on the bed, clutching a pillow in your lap as you watched her braided hair slowly unravel and the tension radiating from her every step. 

“Why did I do that? That was so stupid,” she muttered, her eyes flicking anxiously around the room.

“Nesta, you have to tell him,” you said softly, your voice steady but gentle.

“I could have waited longer, and now I’ve put myself in this situation,” she groaned, rubbing her temples as she sank into the chair in the corner, her fingers tracing erratic circles on her skin.

“How long did you think you could hold off?” you asked, knowing the answer was not much longer.

“Longer than this! Longer than this weekend.” She huffed, her fingers now digging into her scalp.

“Do you really not want to go?” you asked, watching as she chewed her lower lip, avoiding your gaze.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, her eyes darting to the floor.

You leaned back against the headboard, drawing your knees up. “You know, it’s probably going to be a little strange, given you asked to stay at the cabin and now you’re the one backing out.”

Nesta sighed. “I can’t back out now,” she said, her voice wavering, as if she were trying to convince herself more than you.

“You could always figure out a reason not to go,” you suggested, half-heartedly. 

She peered up, her brows raised slightly as though the idea were preposterous. “Like what?”

You hesitated, knowing you shouldn’t encourage her reluctance, but the desperation in her eyes made you ignore your better judgment. “You could say you don’t feel well.”

Nesta scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Yeah, like that won’t raise more questions.”

“Or you could say you just don’t want to go. That you’re not feeling up to it,” you offered, rolling your eyes slightly.

She leaned forward, burying her face in her hands, rubbing them up and down as a groan escaped her. “I can’t back out,” she finally sighed, leaning back again, “I need to just get it out there. I can’t hide from it if he’s standing right in front of me.”

“To be fair, he’s been standing in front of you for the last week, and you’ve been avoiding it,” you pointed out, your tone light but with a hint of sarcasm.

Nesta’s glare could have melted stone, her eyes sharp and venomous. “That’s different,” she snapped, before her hand unconsciously moved to rest on her womb, a tender touch to the life growing inside her. She turned to gaze out the tall windows overlooking Velaris, her eyes like reflecting pools of fear, guilt, and perhaps hope.

You observed her quietly, noting the new radiance pregnancy seemed to give her. Despite her worries, her skin glowed with a renewed vitality, her eyes, though filled with uncertainty, shone brighter, and her hair had gained a lustrous fullness. It was remarkable how quickly pregnancy transformed her. Your thoughts drifted to your own mother, wondering if she too had experienced that early glow, if she had known about her pregnancy at four months, or if you had been a secret she kept even from herself for as long as she could.

You tried to pull yourself from that daydream, reminding yourself that your mother was more a figment of your imagination than a memory. It felt childish to pretend she was anything more. “Nesta,” you began gently, “I can’t say I know exactly how you’re feeling.” Her eyes flicked to you, her finger tracing her lips absently. “And I won’t say everything’s going to be okay because, well, we both know that’s a promise I can’t keep.” Nesta’s delicate finger paused on her lower lip, her other hand pressing gently on her stomach as you continued, “But carrying all this stress alone,” you gestured to her, “it’s not good for you or the babe.”

Nesta’s eyes hardened, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “Cassian wouldn’t want you to go through this by yourself,” you added softly.

Her gray eyes, clouded with grief, locked onto yours. You could see the inner struggle, the battle between her fear and the need to share her burden. Silver began to line her eyes, the tears she fought to hold back shimmering like tiny stars.

“It’s okay to be scared,” you whispered, leaning forward from the headboard. “It’s okay to worry about the worst and try to prepare for it.” As a single tear escaped down her flushed cheek, you added, “But it’s also okay to feel joy about this. To celebrate. This is a big deal, Nesta—this is amazing.”

She sniffled, her attempts to brush away the tears only making them fall faster. You offered a reassuring smile. “Enjoy these moments with Cassian. He’d want to share this with you.”

Nesta nodded, her tears now flowing freely despite her efforts to contain them. She sniffed, her smile watery but genuine. “What about you? Plan for this weekend?” she asked, clearly eager to shift the focus. ”

You looked down, rubbing your hands over your thighs, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Not sure what you mean,” you muttered.

A crooked smile tugged at Nesta’s lips. “Three days alone with Azriel,” she reminded you, her voice laced with teasing.

You nodded, still fighting the blush spreading across your face and, perhaps, a few other places.

“No big plans?” she pressed.

You shook your head, “Nope. Nothing formal.”

“How’s everything going with Azriel?” she inquired, her tone growing more earnest.

You glanced up at her. “You mean with me and Azriel?”

She nodded, her gaze intent.

“It’s good. Things are good,” you said, your voice trailing off as you tried to keep your composure.

Nesta let a silence settle between you, her smile turning knowing, almost cheeky.

“What?” you asked, finally meeting her gaze.

Nesta shook her head, crossing one leg over the other casually. “Just seems like you two are enjoying each other's company a lot.”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “We do like spending time together.”

“A lot of time,” she added, her eyes twinkling.

You glanced at her, your cheeks burning. “We get along.”

Nesta’s catlike eyes gleamed with amusement. “You know, I’ve never seen Azriel look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

You didn’t respond, but her words struck a chord, making your heart race.

“It’s like he can sense when you’re about to enter the room and drops everything just to see you first,” she continued.

You shrugged, trying to deflect. “Isn’t that part of his job? To be observant?”

“Sure, but he doesn’t get that goofy smile for just anyone,” she teased.

You knew the smile she meant—the half grin Azriel couldn’t seem to suppress. You wanted to dismiss it as Nesta reading too much into things, but deep down, you couldn’t ignore that Azriel had confessed his feelings to you. Feelings he said he hadn’t even realized he had until you came along.

“So?” Nesta prompted, her voice light yet probing.

“So what?”

“So things are going very well then?” she asked, her question thinly veiled as a statement.

“Yes,” you admitted. “Things are going well.”

“And things…” she raised her eyebrows suggestively, “down south?”

Your eyes widened in shock.

“Oh come on,” she groaned, her hands slapping her thighs in exasperation. “You read as many of those smut books as I do. Give a girl some details.”

You laughed lightly, embarrassed but amused by her persistence.

“You know the boys have a joke about wingspan being related to… other sizes?” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

You looked down at your hands, “No, I didn’t.”

“Mhm, and Azriel always goes oddly quiet when they bring it up.”

You giggled, making Nesta’s grin widen. “So… it’s good?” she pressed.

You shook your head, still laughing. “I wouldn’t know.”

Nesta’s face fell slightly, confusion clouding her features. “Wait, you mean you haven’t-?”

You shook your head, meeting her gaze. “We haven’t. Not yet.”

“But he’s been in your bed for months!” she exclaimed, a note of desperation in her voice.

You shrugged, feeling a mix of awkwardness and honesty. “We just,” you paused, “We haven’t gotten there yet.” And now pink rose to your cheeks for a different reason. 

Nesta broke her gaze, her own face flushing with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

You cut her off gently, “No, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it.”

Her interest sparked again, though she still looked cautious. “Have you two talked about it at all?”

You pulled the pillow closer to your lap, your fingers nervously tracing nonexistent frays. “Not really.”

You’d shared more of your past with Nesta than with anyone else, down to the painful details you tried to bury. Her voice, gentle and filled with concern, asked, “Are you ready for that?”

You kept your eyes fixed on the pillow. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with,” she began, her tone careful, “but I guess I just want to know if you’ve been intimate like that with anyone other than… him.”

A shudder ran through you at the thought of the 'him' she referred to, memories of past pain and harsh touches flooding back. “No,” you replied softly. “Not fully.”

Nesta nodded, understanding. “Do you think you’d want to try?”

You considered her question. Your body responded intensely to Azriel, your stomach fluttering at the thought of him, and his touch sent electric shocks through you. Physically, you were more than ready for something beyond mild petting. But those memories were powerful, and they had interfered before. They had with Kai, where attempts at intimacy had often triggered terrible flashbacks, forcing you to stop. Now, knowing that moments of vulnerability could open a line to Caelum, you worried if you could ever enjoy intimacy without the fear of what might slip through the bond. You looked up at Nesta, your voice trembling slightly, “I don’t want to go my entire life without being close to someone like that.”

Nesta gave you a gentle smile. “I think we both know that Azriel would understand.”

You returned a tight-lipped smile. You wanted to believe he would understand, that maybe he would even forgo that aspect if you asked. But then you thought of his skin against yours, the longing you felt for him, and the dream of a life you wanted, one that included closeness and a future you couldn’t have if you couldn’t be that intimate.

Nesta’s voice softened, almost a whisper. “I know it’s a little hypocritical, but,” she met your eyes, “just talk to him.”

She smiled softly, and you found yourself smiling back. You chucked the pillow across the room at her. She laughed, a bright sound that echoed through the room, and you laughed too. It felt good to laugh like that, to share a moment of joy with her, a moment that just felt normal. 

—

Nesta made good on her word, and when the morning finally came for her and Cassian to set off, she did so with a determined gleam in her eyes. When she hugged you goodbye, she lingered a bit longer than usual. You couldn’t tell if the prolonged embrace was for her or you, or perhaps for both—a silent recognition of a weekend that might have you both coming back changed.

As for Azriel, he missed the departure, having been called to the River House by Rhysand early that morning. He’d roused you slightly as he pressed a kiss to your temple, urging you to go back to sleep, promising he’d return before Nesta and Cassian left. Apparently, that hadn’t been the case. You didn’t know when he’d come back, but as you wandered through the hall, hands mildly dirty from prepping the rooftop garden for overwintering, you paused by the library, rocking back on your heel as you saw the outline of wings.

Peeking through the entrance, you found Azriel at the writing desk, his hand pressed to his temple, his leg bouncing under the table. His boot squeaked softly on the floor as shadows curled around his feet like restless cats.

“Hey,” you chirped cheerfully, stepping into the room.

Azriel started slightly at your voice, turning to you with a surprised smile. “Oh, hey!” he replied, that goofy grin lighting up his face.

You walked over, wiping your hands on the small towel you'd brought with you before tucking it into your back pocket. “Where have you been?” you asked, leaning your hips against the desk, your body angled towards him.

Azriel’s hazel eyes, sparkling with mischief, met yours. “Got caught up with Rhys,” he said, leaning back in the chair, his hands interlocking behind his head, causing his biceps to flex slightly.

“Everything okay?” you asked, arching a brow, noticing the way his eyes seemed to brighten at the sight of you.

He cleared his throat, his posture relaxed yet commanding. “Yeah, yeah, fine.” But his tone betrayed a hint of uncertainty.

Deciding to trust that, like Nesta with Cassian, Azriel knew what he was doing, you chose not to pry into matters beyond your reach. Instead, you nodded, and his eyes flicked to your hands.

“You’ve been busy,” he noted, gesturing towards your fingers.

You glanced down, seeing dirt still peppered under your nails. You began to dig them out, a sheepish smile crossing your face. “Oh, yeah. Elain had me prepping the soil for overwintering, but I might have gotten a bit carried away.”

Azriel chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I don’t know how you manage it, but it seems like every time you walk away from me, you come back covered in grime.”

Feigning offense, you scoffed, “Okay, well, every time you leave, you come back smelling like actual shit and death.”

“I’m talking about leaving you alone for five minutes, and you come back like that,” Azriel countered, his grin widening.

You shrugged, a playful glint in your eyes. “What can I say? I like dirt.”

“Dirty girl,” he purred, his tone taking on a teasing edge.

Heat crept up your cheeks as you looked away, biting your lower lip to suppress a smile. “Gross,” you replied, though a laugh slipped through.

Azriel’s laugh was a low rumble as he stretched back in his chair, his wings flaring slightly. His black shirt rode up, revealing the tantalizing V-lines that disappeared beneath his waistband, along with a glimpse of his defined abs. You tried to keep your gaze on his face, but your eyes betrayed you, flicking down for just a moment.

As he straightened, catching the way you looked at him, Azriel’s smirk deepened. “Enjoying the view?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the blush threatening to deepen. “Don’t flatter yourself, Shadowsinger.”

His chuckle was warm, and his eyes sparkled with teasing affection as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a soft, intimate murmur. “I think I already did.”

You rolled your eyes as you pushed off the desk, catching Azriel’s eyes trailing your hips as you walked away. It seemed he might have been entertaining thoughts of potential weekend activities himself. Letting yourself flop backward over the couch, you landed with a thud on your back, legs dangling lazily over the backrest. “Plans for the rest of the day?” you asked, casually picking at the dirt caked under your nails.

“Actually,” he replied, “I was wondering if you might be willing to do something for me.”

Your ears perked up just as you pulled a piece of your nail off completely, hissing slightly as a small bead of blood welled up in the tiny wound. “What is it?” you inquired, pressing your thumb to the spot.

“I have to meet someone from the Summer Court this afternoon.” Your heart sank a little, imagining Azriel’s weekend filling up with more responsibilities. “But I was supposed to pick up something from a shop in the city. If I drop you off, would you mind getting it? I can swing by and pick you up on my way back.”

You flipped your legs over the back of the couch, peering up over the crest of the sofa to meet Azriel’s eye. “Sure,” you agreed, though your voice lacked enthusiasm.

Azriel’s face relaxed, and the tension that had coiled around him when you walked in seemed to dissipate. “That would be fantastic, thank you.”

You smiled lightly, “Just let me clean up first,” you said, scooting off the couch.

“Thank the gods,” Azriel replied with mock relief. “I was worried I’d have to carry you down there smelling like dirt and sweat.”

As you walked out, you stuck your tongue out at him over your shoulder. He laughed, leaning back in his chair again, and you had to stop yourself from turning around to admire the view. 

“Careful, you might catch flies,” Azriel called after you, his tone teasing.

You snorted, waving him off as you headed to clean up.

—

When you finally finished getting dressed after your shower, you opened the door to find Azriel standing across the hall. You jumped slightly, hand flying to your racing heart. “Gods, Azriel! We need to get you a bell or something.”

Azriel smirked lightly. “Ready to go?” He seemed anxious, perhaps pressed for time, though he hadn’t exactly given you any.

“Now?” you asked, blinking in surprise.

Azriel glanced around in confusion. “Yes?”

“Oh, okay. That’s fine.” You opened the door wider as Azriel crossed the hallway, tossing you your jacket from the front entry hall.

It seemed he’d been waiting on you—how long, you had no idea. He threw open the balcony doors, letting the cool air rush in, a sharp reminder that winter was on its way. Azriel smiled over his shoulder, extending a scarred hand to you. “You haven’t told me what I’m getting for you yet,” you noted, taking his hand. He scooped you up under your knees, cradling you close as his wings took a few powerful flaps, lifting off the marble floor. Your stomach flipped at the quick descent down the mountainside.

“I wrote the address down for you. Just give them my name,” he said, the wind biting at the tips of your ears.

You furrowed your brow. “You’re not going to tell me what I’m picking up?”

Azriel glanced down at you, his smile widening. “What? You don’t trust me?”

You gave him an incredulous look. “Not even a hint?”

“Okay,” he responded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Just trust me on this one. It’s nothing bad.”

“I’m not collecting the head or fingers of your enemies?” you joked.

Azriel chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest. “That would be an errand I’d want to handle myself.”

“So it’s you who doesn’t trust me?” you countered playfully.

“I wouldn’t want to miss out on the fun,” he replied, smirking.

“Gross.”

“You love that word today, don’t you?”

“When I look at you, it’s the first word that comes to mind,” you shot back, your face breaking into a smile.

Azriel landed gracefully on a deserted sidestreet. “I’ll be back in about an hour,” he said, pulling a piece of parchment from his pocket. “Here.” He handed it to you, leaning in to place a light kiss on your temple.

You opened the paper, squinting at his neat, thin handwriting. No name of the building, but you recognized the street. “So I can’t know what I’m picking up or where I’m going?” you asked, looking up at him.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m going to be late. Consider it a trust exercise. Do you know where it is?”

“Well, I don’t know what ‘it’ is, but I do know where it is,” you replied.

“One hour. I’ll meet you there.”

You watched as he shot back up into the sky, wondering why, if he was meeting you there, he dropped you off a good fifteen-minute walk from your destination. But again, trust. So instead of calling out to question him, you sighed and began your trek through the city, shaking your head with a bemused smile. 

Local shops were already setting out items for Winter Solstice gifts, the streets adorned with twinkling lights and festive decorations. Your heart ached a bit, reminded of how different your life had been just a year ago. For a moment, you wondered if you had moved on too quickly from everything that had happened. You shook the thought away; dwelling on others’ perceptions of your healing wouldn’t help. Or at least, that’s what you tried to remind yourself.

You knew the shortest route to this particular street cut through the city near the entry gate, but the memories there were too sharp to face today. So, you opted for a longer, winding path, adding about ten minutes to your walk. The detour gave you a moment to breathe, to let the festive atmosphere seep in without the weight of the past pressing down too hard.

When you finally reached the correct street, you followed the numbers until you stood in front of a small bakery. The sweet scents of fresh breads and pastries swirled out from under the door, mingling with the crisp winter air. You rechecked the address Azriel had given you. This was definitely the place. Stepping up to the front door, your mouth watered at the sight of cranberry tarts with their crystalline sugar gleaming in the window, boxes of dark chocolates overflowing with cream, ganache, and fruit, and cakes delicately frosted with winter themes of ice and snow.

The bell above the door chimed softly as you entered, the warm, cozy interior a sharp contrast to the chill outside. Your eyes adjusted to the dim, inviting light, and you noticed a few other patrons standing in front of the large glass counter, debating their purchases. You approached the rather plump, cheery-eyed male at the register.

“Hi,” you greeted as he smiled down at you. “I’m here to pick up something for Azriel.”

“Oh!” The male’s eyes lit up with recognition. He nodded and disappeared into the back of the bakery. You must have been in the right place. While you waited, you watched a female baker behind the counter delicately package pastel macarons into a cellophane box, her hands flying yet precise as she tied a pastel blue ribbon over the top.

The male reappeared, holding a small white box secured with red twine. He handed it over the counter with a broad smile. You thanked him, looking down at the box with curiosity, slightly disappointed that you couldn’t see its contents like the macarons on display.

Given that the sun was beginning to set, you figured you didn’t have much time left before Azriel would come to retrieve you. With the mystery box in hand, you crossed the street and sat on a bench, pulling your jacket tighter around you as you watched fae bustle by.

A few small children barreled down the street, chasing each other and giggling wildly. They stopped in front of the bakery, pressing their noses to the glass, their eyes wide with longing for the delectable treats inside. You watched as the female baker inside noticed their hungry faces. She smiled warmly at them, exchanged a few words with the male baker, and then disappeared into the backroom.

Moments later, she emerged with a white paper bag and stepped outside, beckoning the children closer. They approached cautiously, eyes alight with excitement. She handed them the bag, her smile radiant as she reminded them to share. 

The children eagerly took the bag from the baker, nearly ripping it as they peered inside. Their eyes lit up with delight as they distributed various cookies and candies among themselves. You smiled, remembering how, when you were young, the baker Henri used to give you scones that hadn’t sold the day before. A memory that once included your mother, now replaced by Titania. There was something comforting about these children, nearly a century later, still engaging in the same rituals. Adults continuing to offer sweets from the kindness of their hearts, expecting nothing in return but a smile and the hope that these children might someday pass on the same acts of kindness.

You heard footsteps crunching on the sidewalk next to you and looked up to see two large, winged shadows approaching. Azriel’s face was partially obscured by the late afternoon sun. He took a seat next to you, crossing his legs casually and draping his arms over the backrest of the bench, one foot jostling slightly.

“Hey,” you greeted, moving the box to the other side of you.

“Hi,” he replied, his warm smile melting away the chill in your bones.

“All set?” you asked. He nodded. “How did it go?”

His face conveyed a sort of nonchalance, his mouth twitching slightly downward but not quite frowning. “Fine,” was all he said, shrugging. “How was your little errand?” He cocked an eyebrow, glancing at the white box.

You handed him the box, feeling its light weight in your hands. “Fine, I think.”

Azriel took the box from you, untying the twine and turning slightly away to examine the contents. You strained to see over his shoulder, but one large wing blocked your view.

“If all you wanted were pastries, why be so secretive?” you scoffed, amused, as he replaced the lid and turned back to you with a cheeky grin.

He rolled his eyes. “Can’t a male have a little fun?”

You huffed, your eyes scanning his face. There was something about his presence you couldn’t quite place. The look of hesitation behind his eyes, the continuous bouncing foot, and the odd secrecy made you think Azriel might be nervous about something. But what, you couldn’t quite figure out.

“Ready to go?” he asked quickly, standing and adjusting his jacket. You watched him, taking the hand he extended to you, agreeing quietly while complaining slightly about the cold. He just called you a crybaby in response.

The two of you walked through the streets, searching for a quieter sidestreet where Azriel could fully stretch his wings for takeoff. When you finally found one, he picked you up gracefully, asking you to hold the pastry box, which you obliged. The entire flight home, you debated just opening the lid for a peek inside.

As you landed back on the marble balcony, Azriel gently placed you on your feet. You adjusted your top, smoothing the fabric with a quick tug, while he reached for the double doors and swung them open, reclaiming the white pastry box from you. The warm glow of the fire beckoned from within, its gentle crackling drawing you closer. You shrugged off your jacket, tossing it casually onto the bed as you entered the room.

“Thanks,” Azriel’s voice followed you. “For doing this for me.”

You gave a nonchalant shrug, flopping down onto the plush bed, your arms stretching upwards as you tried to ease the ache in your muscles. “No worries.” You expected Azriel to make a swift exit, eager to tackle the next task on his agenda, but he lingered. Standing near the double doors, his eyes stayed on you, a quiet intensity in his gaze.

Lifting your head off the bed, you noticed his prolonged stare. Feeling a bit self-conscious, you asked hesitantly, “Everything okay?”

Azriel snapped out of his reverie, his scarred finger tracing the twine of the pastry box absentmindedly. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he replied shortly, a touch of awkwardness in his voice. “Dinner?”

At his offer, you sprang up from the bed with eagerness. “Yes! I’m starving,” you exclaimed, your voice edged with a playful whine.

Azriel’s lips twitched into a soft, fleeting smile, the sound of a light laugh escaping him. As he started towards the door, you stumbled over your own feet, trying to kick off your boots in a rush. You fell into him, face-first against his chest, his warm laughter rumbling through you and making your stomach flutter. “Careful,” he chuckled, steadying you with a gentle hand.

“Sorry,” you murmured, pushing back slightly, your hands pressing against the hard muscle of his chest. You glanced up, your chin hovering mere inches from where your fingers rested.

Azriel’s gaze softened, his other hand still clutching the pastry box. With a slight nod, he led you out of the bedroom and down the hallway towards the kitchen. Normally, you and Nesta or Azriel would eat casually around the kitchen island, but tonight was different. Azriel walked past the kitchen doors, his pace quickening with a hint of excitement.

You paused in front of the kitchen, a confused look crossing your face. “Aren’t we eating?” you asked, glancing towards the familiar island.

Without stopping or turning back, Azriel urged, “Come on,” his tone carrying a trace of anticipation.

Puzzled but intrigued, you followed him, your stomach rumbling in sync with your growing curiosity. As you trailed behind him through the sunken living room and past the cozy library, you realized he was leading you towards the grand dining room. A room you had only seen used for formal family dinners hosted by Nesta.

Azriel reached the doorway, his imposing wings nearly filling the large frame. Turning to face you, his smile broadened, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but smile back, still trying to decipher his peculiar behavior. Azriel pushed open the door, stepping aside with a radiant, cheeky grin that made your heart skip a beat.

As you stepped through the doorway, Azriel trailing behind, your breath caught in your throat. In the center of the grand dining room, which typically housed a vast, imposing table fit for large gatherings and entertaining, stood a much smaller, more intimate table, set elegantly for two.

The table was adorned with an elegant lace tablecloth, its intricate patterns catching the flicker of candlelight. Candles were placed strategically around the room, their soft, golden glow dancing off the walls. The centerpiece was a lush arrangement of flowers, the key flowers being purple hyacinths—your favorites.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to the exquisite spread laid out on the table, a feast of your favorite dishes, each more mouthwatering than the last. Golden roast chicken, perfectly seasoned with a medley of colorful, caramelized vegetables, parsnips, and baby potatoes crisping in the tray. A bowl next to it held bright, emerald-green steamed asparagus drizzled with a cream sauce, a favorite that Titania used to make for you as a child, you had recently learned. Sautéed mushrooms and wild rice pilaf made your mouth water, and a few freshly baked rolls, still warm from the oven, rested in a basket lined with a blue towel. 

You stood there, momentarily stunned by the sheer meticulous effort placed on each part of the room and table. You couldn’t conceive of any other food on the table that wasn’t one of your favorites, as though someone had crawled into your mind, into your childhood, and handpicked out the moments you held with reverie. Azriel came to stand next to a chair, pulling it out slightly as you approached.

“Az, this is—” you stammered. “How did you—?”

Azriel merely chuckled as you took your seat, sliding it in behind you, then crossing around, pouring a sparkling purple wine into a crystal-clear glass and passing it to you.

“This is,” the words couldn’t even come to your mouth as you took the glass, staring down at the food in front of you. “This is insane.”

Azriel poured himself a glass, swirling it lightly as he gazed across at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement as you tried to get your mouth to close from awe. He took a light sip from the cup, the first taste hitting his palate as his face scrunched up, eyebrows drawing together and then widening in surprise before narrowing into discomfort. He peered into the glass, mildly confused, and then slowly processed the unexpected saccharine assault on his taste buds, followed by a sharp exhale through his nose. “This is so sweet,” he said, shoulders and wings rising in an involuntary shudder.

You looked down into your own glass, the sweet aroma of blackberries filling your nostrils as you took a tentative sip. You were greeted with an intense burst of blackberry flavor, as if a handful of the plumpest berries had been freshly crushed, the taste rich and succulent with small hints of dark chocolate and vanilla coating your throat. You almost moaned in sensual delight. Your eyes shut as you melted into your chair. You finally managed to moan out, “This is delicious.”

Your eyes fluttered open to see Azriel swirling the wine in his glass, peering into it with his mouth pulled up in a sneer as though a fly had landed in it. “Oh come on,” you said, taking another sip.

Azriel’s eyes flicked back to you, his sneer growing more exaggerated. “You actually like this stuff?”

“What about it don’t you like?” you asked, your tone slightly accusatory.

“It tastes like pure sugar,” he responded flatly.

“No, it doesn’t! It tastes like blackberries.”

“Blackberries that have been coated in sugar.” He glanced into it again, “There’s probably one blackberry for three cups of sugar.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against your chair as you took another delectable sip, eyes shutting again as you felt the warmth of the wine trickle down your throat. You hadn’t had this kind of wine since—

Your eyes shot back open as Azriel tried another sip, the same reaction flying from him. “How did you know I liked blackberry wine?”

Azriel seemed to pause in stillness as he gulped down his drink. “Lucky guess?” he offered.

You shook your head, leaning forward. “You were spying on me,” you said, eyes narrowing.

Azriel’s own eyes went hollow as he considered the best way out of this situation. “I wasn’t intending to.”

You laughed lightly, “So your shadows just followed me around on their own accord?”

At that, you felt the cool breeze around your ankle as one shadow skirted past you. “To be fair,” Azriel offered, “they are fond of you.”

Your gaze turned into a glare as Azriel tried to dig himself out. He placed his glass on the table, leaning his elbows onto it, eyes lined with sincerity. “Look, it was right after you left, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“So how long were you watching me?” you asked, slightly more forcefully.

Azriel’s palms faced upward. “Only until it seemed you and Kai were getting more serious.” He paused. You scanned his face for any sign of deception but found none. Only pure sincerity. “Once you seemed like you had someone to rely on, I stopped.”

You leaned back, calming yourself again. In truth, you weren’t too upset that it seemed Azriel had been pining after you much longer than you had thought. Not to mention that knowing there was someone watching over you who wasn’t your mate allowed you to breathe a bit of a sigh of relief. You picked up the glass, swirling it so the sweet wine scent hit your nose again, breathing it in deeply.

“So you’ve seen me drunk?” you asked, taking another sip, eyes heavy as you cocked a brow at Azriel.

Azriel chewed his lower lip, trying to contain a slight smile playing at his lips. “Perhaps,” he offered back.

You quickly tried to sift through your memories, wondering about the things you had said or done that might now cause some embarrassment. “You’re giggly when you’re drunk,” Azriel remarked, a playful glint in his eye.

You set your glass down on the table, leaning forward as he carved a piece of chicken for you, placing it on your plate. The warm juices from the pan flowed onto the dish, tantalizing your senses. “And what are you like?” you inquired, arching a brow.

Azriel let out a breathy laugh as he served himself. You grabbed the tongs, dishing asparagus onto both your plates. “I haven’t gotten drunk in a long time.”

You handed over the tray to him as he passed you the rolls. “How long is a long time?”

Azriel pondered for a moment, setting the pan back down on the table. “Half a century?” he responded, sounding like he was questioning his own memory.

You picked up your fork, eyeing him with a smirk. “Sometimes I forget you’re ancient,” you quipped, taking a bite of the chicken. The savory sauce melted in your mouth, making you moan with delight.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “It stops being important once you turn one hundred.”

You opened your eyes again, taking another greedy bite. “That’s what someone who’s too old and boring to get drunk would say,” you teased.

“I got my days of heavy drinking out of the way before I took on one of the most important roles in the Night Court,” he countered, leaning back. “It’s not exactly a good look to be falling all over yourself in front of those in power.”

You scoffed, “Cassian seems to have no problem with it.” It’s true, Cassian seized every opportunity to get absolutely sloshed at formal events, often challenging other warriors to drinking contests.

“Let’s not use Cassian as our standard for formality,” Azriel replied with a chuckle. “But when I used to get drunk, I’m told I got rather chatty.”

You almost choked on your food. “Chatty?” you questioned, wide-eyed.

Azriel flicked his eyes at you from under his brows as he took a bite. “Is that surprising?”

You shrugged, chewing a bit more carefully this time. “Chatty with everyone? Or just the people you know?”

Azriel leaned back in the chair, his wings casually lounged behind him. “According to Rhys and Mor, everyone.”

The thought of Azriel being the life of the conversation somewhere in a bar in Velaris, chatting it up with strangers, almost made you laugh out loud. “I’m sure you were fun at parties,” you offered, swallowing down your bite with another glass of wine.

“I would say I still am,” he replied, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“You think fun is brooding in the corner?”

“You’ve only ever seen me at Night Court events,” he countered.

“But you’re a party animal at the tavern?” Azriel rolled his eyes. “Maybe that’s why you don’t like sweet wines,” you teased, leaning over the table. “You’re too old to enjoy something so youthful. You’d rather have a dry glass of white wine or some liquor that burns like firestarter.”

Azriel scoffed at you. “Am I going to regret doing all this for you?” he joked back.

You smiled at him sweetly, looking back down at your plate. “No,” you replied, a touch quieter and sincere. “This is amazing. Thank you.”

Azriel’s face lit up slightly at your response. “I just thought you deserved a nice night,” he said.

You gestured to the table, “You really got all my favorites, even the ones I haven’t told you about or eaten in front of you.”

Azriel glanced toward the ceiling. “I’ll admit, the House did provide me with some insight on things you ask for late at night.”

You followed his gaze up, whispering in a hiss, “Those moments were supposed to be secret.”

Azriel laughed, “That and Titania helped fill me in on the rest.”

You ran your finger around the rim of your glass, heart and belly slowly filling with a feeling of deep adoration and joy. “This is really nice,” you finally whispered.

Azriel reached a scarred hand across the table to you, taking yours. “You deserve to enjoy the things you love,” he offered, his voice filled with quiet sincerity.

Azriel shared with you that, unlike what you might have considered, he actually prepared all the dishes himself. He prepped the meal early in the morning with the help of Nuala and Cerridwen at the River House and then took the hour he had misled you into going to the bakery to set everything up. He really had thought of everything.

As you settled back in your chair, the plate nearly licked clean, you let out a sigh of gratification. Azriel, who had indeed brought out some nasty liquor you refused to try despite his imploring, swirled his glass across from you. His eyes lit up suddenly as he jumped from the table. “I almost forgot!”

You straightened slightly as he brought out the white box from the bakery, setting it in front of you to open. You glanced up at him, smiling. “You made me get my own dessert?” you teased.

“Oh yeah, I’m so sorry,” he replied sarcastically. “How foolish of me to ask you to do one thing so I could do all of this for you.” He gestured around the room with a dramatic flourish.

You smiled back as you undid the twine, peeking in at two delicately crafted tarts. The rhubarb, lemon, and berry compote glistened up at you, the crust perfectly crisped. Your mouth fell open again as Azriel looked down at you, joy in his eyes. You peered back up at him, “These are the tarts that Elain made when I first came here,” you said, breathless.

Azriel shrugged, “Not the exact ones. But they’re as close as I could get to the real thing without cluing Elain in.” In fairness, Elain couldn’t keep a secret, and for something of this nature, which included romance and food, she would have spilled every detail the second Azriel told her.

You found your hand seeking Azriel’s as you marveled at the beautiful little desserts, eyes welling up with emotion. This entire dinner was a three-course journey through your life, from childhood to now, all prepared for you, all a reflection of who you were and the things you had experienced. You felt a tear start to fall, but Azriel caught it, tilting your head up to face him, his own eyes filled with a sincerity and care you don’t know if anyone had ever had for you before. “Thank you,” you whispered lightly.

Azriel leaned down, his lips meeting yours, the oils from the chicken mingling with the sweet wine on your own lips. While you could taste the fiery hint of his drink, you didn’t pull away, lost in the soft caress of his lips as his thumb drew a lazy line down your face, his other hand coming to cup the other side. The kiss held no intensity other than pure adoration, care, and unbridled joy. When he pulled back, Azriel smiled down at you again, and you giggled lightly when he reached into the box, pulling out one of the tarts with his hands and taking a crumbling bite from it.

“Hey!” you protested, laughing as he chewed. “That’s mine!”

Azriel shrugged, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Consider it a toll for the perfect evening.”

To my readers, I'm hot, bothered, and need to be put back into my enclosure. We about to get wild: @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @loglady00 @caninnes

[storm-angel989]

Fighting For Control (Valentino x Employee Reader, Valentino x Wife Valentino x Daughter)

HUGE TRIGGER WARNING.

Eating Disorders. Eating disorder Treatment. Valentino.

Valentino sat off to the side and gazed at the stage. One by one, his dancers strutted down, swung their hips towards him and gave a smile. Casual dress was required for this particular cat walk. Despite being known as one of the most ruthless bosses of hell, he still needed to make sure his girls were healthy, and taking care of themselves. After all, it was just bad business to have his girls passing out in front of clients. He nodded in approval as each girl walked, seeming pleased until one of his dancers seemed to wobble down the stage.

A frown crossed his face. Reader. 

He knew when he hired her she would struggle with adjusting to a more comfortable lifestyle. And now as he took in her two loose braids, oversized sweater and jeans that he noticed last week were falling off her hips, alarm bells were ringing. He waited until the rest of the girls finished and then leaned over to the demon next to him. 

“I need reader in my office. Now. The rest of the girls are free to leave. And tell the nurse’s office to be on standby.”

Truth be told, he suspected when he hired her that she suffered from an eating disorder. Most of his girls did at some point in their careers. The majority of them came from a traumatic past, a life of fighting to survive. It was only to be expected that in this new line of work, the removal of that constant stress occasionally manifested in less than ideal ways. As he walked back to his office, he considered how he should handle this situation. In his early days, he would have simply forced her on the scale and if the number that flashed beneath his displeased him, he would have sent her off to the hospital for treatment, with the understanding that she could return only when she demonstrated progress. After all, he had a business to be concerned with, and an image to uphold. 

But now he had his own teenage daughter, one who struggled with her own issues surrounding food. Following her through therapy, working with her during family dinner time, and holding her as she cried because the little voice inside her head made her think she wasn’t good enough, would never be thin enough, pretty enough, had changed his entire perspective on both the illness and its treatment. He was thankful his experience in the field helped him catch his little girl before she was in as rough shape as reader clearly was, but his experience with someone he loved certainly made him a bit softer to his workers who were struggling. He took his seat in his chair as he considered his options. Separation of work and home- this wasn’t his daughter, or his wife. This was his employee. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t show compassion to her- concern and care. After all, she was battling a monster he had only glimpses into. 

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. 

“Ah. Come in,” he called. He studied reader as she walked in. Her hair was back in two loose braids, a useless attempt to hide her hair loss. Her jeans were practically falling off her hips with each step she took. Her tee shirt and oversized cardigan were recognizable defense mechanisms- armor she was desperately trying to hide behind. He knew he needed to come from a place of concern, or he would be shut down instantly. 

“Take a seat muñeca, ” he said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. 

She did so reluctantly and her eyes averted his gaze. “Did I do something wrong, sir?” Her voice was soft. Frightened. 

“No, bebita. You didn’t do anything wrong. But I am concerned about you. Tell me the truth, doll. Is everything okay? Are the other girls treating you alright?” He asked. 

“Yes sir, they treat me fine,” she muttered. 

He considered how to approach this. Looking at the big picture, she was relatively new to him. She didn’t really know him or his methods. Softness, first, he thought was the best option. “You’ve been with me for how long now…three months?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you live in one of the flats with the other girls, yes?”

She kept her gaze down. “Yes, sir.”

“Are you finding the essentials sufficient? Your room, clothing, food?”

That got a reaction out of her. He watched as she switched to defensive mode at the mere mention of food. His heart sank. Part of him wished his suspicion was inaccurate, but her behavior simply confirmed his fear.

“Yes, sir. Everything is fine. Can I go now?” 

“You may not.” He stood up and pulled a scale out from his desk. “I’m noticing a concerning pattern of behavior, cariño. I need you to step on the scale for me, hm?”

The defensiveness overtook her. “No.”

He expected such a reaction. She needed to be reminded who was in control here- it was her best chance at survival. The red chains sprang forward and wrapped around her wrist, bringing her to him. 

“I own you. You will do what I say, when I say it. And that includes this. Understood?”

He watched the familiar battle unfold. Unlike his daughter, he had control over this demon. More of the ability to save her from herself. He released the chains and he nudged her to the scale- the one that wouldn’t flash the number on the base, and instead send the data directly to his phone. Another trick he learned with his daughter. Without another option, reader stepped on. 

He checked the digits that popped up on his phone. Valentino felt his stomach drop. The number was by far one of the lowest he had seen. Guilt spread through him, anger at himself and this illness. He should have been keeping a closer eye on her.  He only hoped the threat of his contract would be enough motivation for her to comply with treatment. Technically speaking, he could keep her alive. But there were parts of an eating disorder he couldn’t control.  

“Alright, babydoll. Step off,” he said quietly, sliding a hand under her arm. “And sit for me.”

Terror spread across her features. “What is my weight?”

Valentino looked at her evenly. “Too low for me to comfortably have you on my stage, bebita.”

“But what exactly is my weight?” she begged. 

“You need to let me worry about that, sweetheart,” he replied evenly. He knew better than to get combative. After all, he was the one in control here. Not her. And he certainly wouldn’t let her illness work its way in. “Let me be very clear with what will happen next.  I’m going to escort you down to the nurses office. From there, you will be hospitalized until that number is in the healthy range.”

Reader crossed her arms. “You can’t do that! I’m an adult!”

“Oh I can. I own you. Or have you forgotten that?” He leaned forward, “And I refused to let one of my most promising dancers starve herself into nothingness.”

“I eat, Valentino. I do! Please, just let me go home,” she begged. “Please! I’m fine! I swear!”

He looked at her softly. “You’re not fine. That much is clear. Come along now. I’m taking you whether you fight me the entire way or not.” 

Normally, he would have the nurse meet them with a wheelchair for a number that low, but she was already so frightened. His heart ached for her, for the pain she was going through both physically and mentally. He slipped his hand under her arm and guided her down the hallway. She seemed to shut down in his grasp, a quiet, fragile doll. 

“You will do what they say, you will eat what they tell you and you will not fight them, do you understand?” He asked once they were in the nurse's office. He sat her on the bed. “We’re going to get a gown on you. Arms up.” 

He carefully pulled back her sweater.  She sat stiffly, not actively fighting him but also not helping him in any way. He tugged off her t-shirt and bit back the gasp that threatened in the back of his throat. Emaciated wasn’t a strong enough word. 

He kept his touch gentle as he tied back the gown and helped her lay on the bed, but inside, anger bubbled. This disease, this illness was something he couldn’t eliminate, as much as he wanted to. He watched and listened quietly as the doctor as he came over and began to work over her. After a few moments, the doctor turned to Valentino. 

“Two thousand calories, through her nose to start,” the doctor said. “And we’ll get her into therapy right away.”

He wanted to tell the doctor to talk to her, not to him. But that illusion that he was in control, not her eating disorder, couldn’t be broken. Valentino turned to her and to his surprise, she looked furious.

“Five hundred. And no feeding tube.” She shot back. 

The doctor looked at Valentino and Valentino bit back a sharp word. It wouldn’t help anything for him to be angry.

. “This isn’t a negotiation. What the doctor says, goes. The only choice you have is if you take this willingly or we keep you too sleepy to fight.” 

His words seemed cold even to him, and he honestly suspected that that was an empty threat. He doubted her body could handle anything extraneous at this point. But by the expression on her face, she didn’t know that. 

“Valentino, no please,” she begged. “I’ll eat more, I promise.”

“Then prove it,” he replied sternly. He laid a gentle hand on her forehead, “I want to see next week's weigh in significantly higher.” 

Her tone hardened. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“You do not.” 

“Fine.” 

Valentino watched as the doctor slid the tube into her, biting back the frustration that was building in his chest. Flashes of his own daughter being threatened with the same treatment raced through his mind.The threat was enough to scare her into his arms, sobbing and making the same promises. He was thankful she had kept her promise, and came home that day, willing to consume what the doctor prescribed. To an extent, of course- but they worked through it together.

Finally, once reader was settled, he watched as she closed her eyes. She had to be exhausted. He hoped she realized now that she was in a safe place, and they were on the same side, but he doubted it. Which was fine with him- he didn’t mind being the enemy for the time being.  

“Will she make it?” Valentino asked as they stepped out of the room. 

The doctor shrugged. “She should. She’s lucky you are so…attentive to your employees.” 

Valentino felt his expression harden, a mask to protect helpself and his reputation. “It’s bad business to not be. I’ll check in on her tomorrow. If she needs anything, let me know and take care of it the best you can in the meantime. I expect updates- this one shows promise on my stage.” 

And with that, he turned and walked out. The clock on his watch said five, and he needed to go home. Exhaustion swept over him, feelings of helplessness and the worry that that could have been his daughter. His wife. Both struggled with their own body issues. The desperate feeling of anxiety overwhelmed him. He checked both their vitals on the app he had synched to his phone. The numbers were fine, but just checking wasn’t enough. He needed to see them, needed them in his arms, and needed to make sure with his own eyes that they were safe. He walked from the elevator to the door of his wife’s office. He pushed open the door without a knock and closed it behind him. 

She looked up from her computer. He smiled as he took in the sight of her. Pretty blonde hair pulled back into a loose bun. Blue light glasses to prevent headaches. And an outfit that she could dominate the entire world in. 

 “Hey honey, what’s up?” She asked as she stood up. “Everything okay?” 

He pressed his lips to hers and wrapped her in his arms. “Just a long day.” Even to him, the words sounded flat. He pushed her head to his chest and held her against him for a heartbeat. He wasn’t ready to talk, not yet. At the moment, he just needed to hold her. 

She gave him a knowing look. “Mhm, sure. Bed tonight?” 

Of course she knew. He knew she knew. And she wouldn’t press the issue, not until he was ready. Or until bedtime. Whichever came first. 

“Is our baby princessa home or did she stay late at school?” He asked as he slowly released her. 

His wife pressed her cheek to his and gave him a nuzzle and a kiss. “She’s in her room last I checked. Why? Did she…”

“No, no. I just want to see my daughter,” he replied quickly. “Go back to work mi amore. So you can come home sooner.” 

She looked at him with concern. “You did have a rough day. Let me finish up, I’ll be home in an hour.” 

He gave her another kiss before letting her go back to her work, and he made his way upstairs to their own floor of the V tower. Their home they shared with his two best friends. Down her hallway, his daughter's door was closed and he hesitated for a moment but knocked anyway. He needed to see her, for his own sake.

“Baby Princessa? Are you awake?” 

“Daddy? Yeah come in, I'm working on my homework.” He heard her reply. 

He pushed open the doors of the once pink room. Now everything within reflected her current interests. Blacks. Grays. Reds. Purples. Not too different honestly than her Aunt Velvette’s. It was an adjustment, watching her grow from a little girl to a sullen teen, but he was grateful she had the support, love and anything else she needed.

“Hi bebita,” he walked over and kissed the top of her head. “How was your day?”  He expected to be met with sullenness, an implied go away, Dad, I’m busy, that so frequently laced her voice these days. 

To his surprise, she turned around and beamed. “It was long Daddy, but look I got an A on my Spanish test thanks to you!” She excitedly handed him the paper, “look! I even got the bonus words right!”

“Ah, pequeño amor, I am so proud of you! You did the work. Not me. But come here, give your papi a hug.”

She stood up and practically ran into his arms and jumped up as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and held her for a moment, feeling her weight in his arms. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. She was okay. She was healthy. They still had plenty of time together to be sure they had stamped her eating issues early on in life.

“Daddy, are you okay?”

The sound of her concerned voice broke him from his thoughts. He gently released her. His daughter was okay, and she would continue to be okay. 

“Yes, bebita. Come on, let’s pause your homework. Mom should be home soon, and let’s grab Aunt Velvette and Uncle Vox. We can go out to dinner and celebrate that A. How’s that sound?” 

“Deal! Thanks Dad!” She jumped up and wrapped her arms around him again. “Best Papi ever!” 

That he wasn’t so sure of, but he accepted the compliment anyway. 

At dinner that night, he watched how much she consumed. How she reacted to the arrival of dinner. He searched desperately for hints that her issues were making a headway. To his relief, he saw nothing- no sign that her illness was anywhere close to showing its ugly self. 

He laid in bed later that night, the weight of his wife’s head on his chest as he filled her in on the events of the day, his worries, his fears. His concern for both reader and his daughter. It felt good to get it all out, to have his other half to share life with. 

“I just, I wish I had acted sooner,” he finished. 

“But the doctor says he thinks she’ll be okay?” She asked as she pressed her lips to the center of his chest. “Then that’s what matters.”

“It could have been our daughter,” he said aloud. “I didn’t see any sign of it at dinner tonight, but it could have been her lying in that hospital bed. It could have been her so close to death.”

His wife sat up. “That’s really what’s bothering you, isn’t it? Not just the fact that you’re seeing your own employees- which lets admit, Val, you’ve started to give a damn about, but also seeing your worst fear for your own daughter blossom in front of your eyes.”

He nodded and followed ensuite. “I keep seeing that image of her, she was so thin it was terrifying. If I was even a week later…”

“But you weren't. You got reader into treatment on time, and are doing everything in your power to help her beat her illness. And, my love, our daughter is fine. We are doing everything we can to make sure that she continues to beat this. She’s in weekly therapy sessions, hell we haven’t had a dinner fight in almost two years.” She took his hands in his. “Val, you can’t beat yourself up over this.” 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed. He hated this, the lack of control The feeling of helplessness. He wasn’t used to this feeling- Valentino was all about control. 

“Babe, where are you going?” His wife asked. 

“To check on our daughter.”

He pushed open the door to her bedroom and to his relief, he saw her curled up under her blankets, fast asleep. He stood there for a second, watching the rise and fall of her chest. He looked at his phone for the second time that day. Her vitals were fine. She was fine. Reader would be fine. He felt an arm wrap around his waist and he looked down at his wife. 

“She’s as perfect as the day she was born,” his wife said softly. “Come back to bed, Val. She’s okay.” 

Valentino allowed himself to exhale and back in his own bed, he laid his head on his wife’s chest and closed his eyes, allowing the sound of her heartbeat to fill his ears. “Mi amore, why do the people in my life not see the beauty that I see in them?” 

“Val, I wish I knew the answer,” she replied tiredly as she held him. “But I don’t. But I can tell you that you’ve done enough for today, you did the right thing for reader, and you, my love, need to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.” She shifted herself under him and gripped him tighter. “I’ve got you. Now sleep.” 

He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to wash over him. His wife was right. Reader would be okay, and his daughter was okay. He would take care of them all with everything he had.

[alicentflorent]

Comparing Alicent and Helaena’s reactions during the funeral scene is really interesting because it shows us two different trauma responses. Alicent has been taught her entire life to sit there, look pretty and do her duty. We see her look deeply uncomfortable at first but she “stays calm” because in reality she’s dissociating, she’s keeping on the mask that she’s used to protect herself. We know she experiences dissociation when in a traumatic situation because we see it clearly in the marital rape scene and when she’s trying to look after two babies she had when she was still a child herself.

Helaenas trauma response is more clear, while she also experiences dissociation during this scene (we also see her dissociate during b&c and the scene right after in Alicents room) but as the crowds gather and they start to throw confetti helaena is triggered out of her dissociated state and becomes overstimulated and anxious and starts to become visibly distressed but she can’t remove herself from the situation and Alicent attempts to calm her are futile because helaena, being written as neurodivergent, CAN’T just push her anxieties down and put on a mask. It’s gone beyond being able to mask her symptoms. Her discomfort is clear, she’s becoming more overwhelmed and all she can do is sit there visibly distressed. Alicent has been dissociating for so many years and masking her own discomfort that she doesn’t even realise that not everyone can go into that state and not visibly react to trauma they are going through.

[guided-by-stars]

Siffrin can be unintentionally insensitive, with the way that they hold fucked up, traumatizing, situations in their heart fondly.

Pointing back to when Mirabelle was insecure about dragging all of them on this dangerous adventure and Siffrin truly puts his foot in it by saying that this mission (that involves all of Mira’s loved ones basically being gone, frozen in time) is the happiest experience he can remember. Sure, it’s true (it gave Siffrin his party, after all), but clearly Mirabelle was hurt by the idea that Siffrin was ENJOYING that situation.

I imagine that, as time goes on and the pain fades, they would see the loops in a similar way. Maybe with more bitterness, but it gave them their family. He was finally able to open up, and nobody rejected him for it. He learned so much about everyone. His relationships were tested, and held strong. He saved the country. It gave him Loop, someone who could understand him in a way that only someone who was him could.

The amount of hurt that they would unintentionally inflict upon Loop if they ever expressed that they looked back on everything fondly, though. It would be incredibly immense. They’d be disgusted, distraught, betrayed, furious. The loops killed Loop’s entire family (removed them from existence, even!), sent them on an impossible quest that they threw their life away over countless repetitions of the same two days, replaced them with a version of themselves that they were forced to watch get everything they ever needed, what they ever wanted. To hear that Siffrin ENOYED THAT? To any extent? It would bring out red, because something would be broken.

[quibllyfish]

Hello! I was wondering if you might like to write either a set of hcs or small Drabbles for (pre-established relationship) Satan x MC? In which MC is shy, sensitive, quiet, likes helping around, maybe comes off as a pushover at times, gets flustered very quickly, and gets startled easily (or you can add/remove any of these if you’d prefer!). So a lot of the brothers think that MC wouldn’t even bat an eye towards Satan, yet on an Asmo night, while playing truth or dare, Asmo asks MC about their opinion on Satan. MC answers very bashfully saying he’s really admirable, he seems gentle and sweet. I’m very curious to see what the brothers think! You can add in any brothers you like for this Asmo night!

Have a lovely day!

౨ৎ﹒Satan x Reader : Late Nights With Strays．𝝑𝝔

﹕ An unlikely relationship begins to bloom between a lovely human and the avatar of wrath / 1102 word count

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა：❝—I mightve went a little overboard with this ask, but I couldnt help it! I am a SUCKER for an opposites attract trope, okay? I will admit that I did take some creative liberties with the prompt. Please enjoy!! And BTW! I did not proofread this at all, I hope it's readable ꒱ . . ♡

From the first day you arrived in the devildom ALL of the brothers realized you had a bit of… A faint heart?

Despite your attempts to put on a brave face and take the reins of a challenging situation, it was a bit obvious you were way out of your comfort zone. Shaking hands, a wavering voice, averting eye contact; you weren't aware of any verbal agreements on the matter, but it was safe to assume the brothers collectively decided the best way to ease you into life in the devildom was to tone down their very.. vibrant personalities.. and try their best to hold themselves back for a bit.

This effort admittedly did include trying to minimize your interactions with Satan as much as possible.

It wasnt that he was bad!! No! Perhaps it was just that they didnt desire their sweet, skittish human to be forever traumatized from witnessing Satan attempt to rip another demon limb from limb.

Eventually, however, these attempts proved fruitless. Even though you were easily coaxed into following directions, it became obvious (and annoying) that you were being ushered from place to place, shielded from experiencing the full extent of this new realm. In a small act of rebellion, you stayed up until you were pretty sure the rest of the house was asleep.

Wandering through the home's many rooms, eventually you find your way out the front door. Something you see in the distance makes you genuinely question whether or not this is a dream; surely that's not a certain green-eyed demon attempting to coax a cat out of the house of lamentation's flower beds?

When Satan notices you approaching, he's instantly in the middle of contemplating whether he should turn tail and immediately leave or question why you're out so late. Before a decision can be made, you're sat down in the grass, tempting the feline by swaying a plucked flower in its line of vision. To his surprise, it not only entertains the hunt, but after one foul pounce it decides to find a comfortable perch atop your lap.

" It must be very lonely, being such a tough kitty and braving the devildom alone, " You coo, scritching the cat's chin, " You're not mean though, no, you're a big softie! "

Remembering Satan's standing behind you, you crane your head towards him, " Look! I made a new friend! "

Perhaps.. You had just made two.

After that night, going out after the sun fell past the horizon to spend time with strays (and Satan) became a regular occurance. The mystery of why so many feral cats began roaming the area of the HOL was baffling to most, but the two of you basked in knowing it most definitely was due to your habit of feeding them late night snacks. Each feline eventually got a name, many after book characters. These nights with strays eventually were followed by late night walks, and eventually the walks were followed by Satan reading aloud to you in the comforts of his room.

Sometimes—and these nights were your favorite—you would doze off, leaning your head on his shoulder as he read. Only to find yourself tucked snuggly into your own bed the next morning. Often there would be a note on your bedside table, summarizing where the story last left off. It might've just been a dream, but you could've swore he kissed your forehead while you were half asleep.

As for the other brothers, they were none the wiser of you two's after dark expeditions. This is why tonight's game of truth or dare became so interesting.

Each avatar of sin (excluding Lucifer, who had no patience for silly matters such as living room sleepovers) sat in a circle with you on the floor of the living room. The activity? Truth or dare. Giggles lingered over the hilarity of the last dare, as Mammon was forced to down a deadly concoction of every condiment inside the fridge mixed together. To be honest, it seemed to even rival the horrors of Solomon's cooking.

As the turn fell to Asmo, a giddy smile tugged at his lips. He twisted to face you, taking your hand in his own, " So! What will it be? Truth? Or, are you brave enough to pick dare? I pinky promise I'll go easy on you! "

Whilst you felt inclined to make Asmo's day by choosing the latter, you did not feel so inclined to subject yourself to any sort of embarrassment. Tapping a finger to your lips, you feigned being lost in thought.

" Hm.. I think... I'll pick truth! "

The avatar of lust let out a whine, " And I had the perfect dare too..! Well.. The truth can be just as entertaining! This'll be juicy- so, tell me… What do you think of Satan? "

For a moment, the entire room fell silent. To everyone else, this was an obvious attempt to stir up drama- perhaps, Satan, with a bruised ego, might storm out angrily. Or worse..

Mammon groaned, " Dont make em'- "

You tutted, interrupting your greedy guard dog before he could even finish that thought. Glancing in Satan's direction, you could tell he was eyeing you with curiosity. In a way, it might've been a bit entertaining for him; like you both were in on an inside joke that his brothers were none the wiser to.

" Satan is, " you smile, looking down at your hands, " Well! He's- how do I put this.. I think getting to know him has been one of my favorite parts of moving here. "

The room, quite literally, was too stunned to speak, but the sparkle of interest in Asmo's eyes told you he wanted to know more.

" That might sound silly! But I honestly think- you know, and I dont wanna embarrass you, Satan- but you're really sweet! And… And you always try to make sure I feel comfortable and safe when we spend time together! Honestly, I think the devildom feels more like home whenever we hang out? Thats- geez, that's a dorky thing to say, "

Before everyone can erupt with complaints, Asmodeus squeals like a school girl, " This is SO cute! Awwwhh! My favorite human- and my little brother! Friends! So so unexpected, but so so cute! How did I not notice?? "

You're instantly pulled into a hug as Asmo gushes about how adorable you are, but you swear that you saw out of the corner of your eye- Satan's flushed face, adorned with a soft smile.

[themattress]

Untitled Kairi Post

Y'know what? In a way, Kairi was tragically doomed as a character from the very beginning.

"Oh, because she was a love interest and damsel in distress!"

No. Myths, fairy tales and, well, Disney movies have used those tropes for ages, and if you're doing a story where a huge point is the influence of those things, it's kind of a given that the leading lady be a love interest and damsel in distress. And the writing is smart enough to put a twist on the trope given that Kairi's distress is much less than it appeared to be because she's Sora's love interest and he's her's, and after Sora saves her she saves him right back.

"Oh, because she wasn't a playable character or party member!"

No. It would have been nice to have the playable puzzle solving-based Kairi sequence they initially planned at Hollow Bastion, but I can understand why it was removed given how it would slow down the pace following what is perhaps the signature sequence of the game. And in any case it doesn't have any bearing on how things went for the rest of the series, given that Riku also was not a playable character or party member (he just had a crappy AI when pretending to help you fight Parasite Cage all so that he could kidnap Pinocchio).

"Oh, because she was stuck in a coma the whole game!"

NO! God damn it, how much must the game beat the point into your stupid head!?

And who could forget?

Stop laughing right now.

Kairi. Not just "her heart". KAIRI. Since the heart = the person.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, it exposes some serious sexism if one goes with the "Kairi was in a coma" line for KH1 and yet says "Ventus was inside of Sora" post BBS, since it's literally the exact same situation except that Kairi was always awake within Sora's heart as opposed to Ventus only waking up at the end of 3D. It's why Sora felt things regarding Hollow Bastion, why he experienced the memory of Kairi and her grandfather, and why he saw and heard Kairi multiple times. He wasn't hallucinating; that was always really her.

So, enough beating around the bush. What did I actually mean, then?

Well....let's start at the beginning.

Kairi's arc in the original Kingdom Hearts is not just told through the writing. Utilizing a video game as a visual/audible medium, it is also told through animation, voicework and music. During her introductory cutscene, we see Kairi asked by Sora if she remembers the world she was born in before being sent to Destiny Islands. "I told you before. I don't remember." She answers this sincerely. "Nothing at all?" Sora responds. That's when we see this detail.

"Nothing." Kairi is lying. She doesn't remember everything given the trauma caused by being forced out of her old home, but she does remember just enough to understand why it was traumatic. She had a comfortable life there, and a family. She was happy. And then it was all gone in an instant. Now, on Destiny Islands, she is similarly content ("Well, I'm happy here.") and fears risking that same loss. And yet a small part of her still yearns for the past. She loved what she can recall of her past, as she loves her present. She fears only the future.

Riku's fixation on his existential woes and the mysteries of the universe, while also putting her up on some sort of pedestal like she's something special, is not helping at all. Something about it feels wrong to Kairi...wrong and uncomfortably familiar. It's making her very anxious.

But Kairi has someone to lean on and help her keep up an optimistic, cheerful front, perhaps enough to talk herself into believing it: Sora. And during this scene, we hear the track "Kairi I":

This track reflects Kairi's character in this moment. While there is a subtle undercurrent of worry, her heart is strong enough to not let it get to her and look on the bright side as she looks out to the sun setting over the ocean. With Sora's reassurance, she is able to feel as though her home and friends won't change or go away no matter what happens on her, Sora and Riku's planned voyage, which allows her to feel anticipation for it. All finally feels right.

Of course, things were not right, and Kairi ended up in heart form as her body and soul were lost to darkness along with Destiny Islands. From Kairi's POV, she is now in the Station of Awakening (aka Dive to the Heart) and can do little but watch Sora's adventures as she can see them through his eyes, not fully putting it together why she can and where she truly is.

In the scene at Merlin's House, we get to hear "Kairi II".

While it's similar to "Kairi I", there is now a more somber and mysterious feel to it given the present circumstances. While she doesn't know if Sora can hear her, Kairi wistfully waxes nostalgic over how Merlin's House reminds her of the Secret Place on Destiny Islands. And while Kairi feels sad over missing that place, she's also happy that there are places like it elsewhere in the universe. She's clearly learning as much from Sora's journey as Sora is.

Finally, we hear "Kairi III" in the flashback with little Kairi and her grandmother.

And while it starts out reflecting Kairi's childhood innocence, it ends up turning...almost sad. The reason why being one of the most overlooked details of the scene: at the end of the grandmother's story, she disappears, and little Kairi is shown moving her head all around looking for her. This isn't actually part of the memory, but a reflection of Kairi's heart. She knows that she had a grandmother and that her grandmother isn't here anymore, but she can't remember how her grandmother "left". But she at least still exists...within her heart.

Speaking of which, once Kairi's heart returns to her body and Sora loses his heart in the process, Kairi puts her foot down. She may have learned how to better deal with and accept change and loss, but a line still has to be drawn somewhere and Sora is that line for her.

Thus is she able to save him. Later, we see her worry about the future and things changing again when she questions whether anything can be the same between her, Sora and Riku again after the corruption Riku had underwent. Once again, Sora boosts her optimism.

More importantly, he helps her learn, as he does, that even when separated you can take strength in keeping your loved ones (metaphorically) in your heart, and that even if things change and Kairi is cut off from the people and things she loves, they will always exist within her heart, just as with her grandmother and the story she told her about light and darkness.

This is why, in the end, Kairi is able to let Sora go and yet still feel content.

From "Hikari" (JP):

I'll stop doing pointless things like thinking about the future. Today I'll eat delicious things. The future is always before us, Even if I don't know it.

From "Simple and Clean" (EN):

 Regardless of warnings, the future doesn't scare me at all.  Nothing's like before.

This is a really good, really well done character arc.

It's also a very human character arc.

Yes, there are a lot of fantastical things going on, but when you put all of that aside, what are you left with? A young girl moves away from her old home and everything that she ever knew and loved, which gives her anxiety about the same thing happening with the new home and everything that she's come to know and love from it, which now includes a certain boy. She fears the future; she fears change. In the end, she ends up staying in her new home - but the boy moves away! However, through her time spent with him she's learned to accept this because he'll always be a part of her heart, which is something that won't ever change.

When put that way, it sounds positively mundane, and by and large the KH fandom - and Tetsuya Nomura himself for that matter - don't want or like mundane stuff like that. They want the crazy, the overdramatic, the angsty, the flashy, the anime tropeyness they're familiar with. This is why they were unreceptive to Kairi's arc to the fullest degree, as in many of them are literally unaware it even happened because they were too busy fixating on the archetypal Japanese media-style dick measuring contest between Sora and Riku (which is also far deeper than they tend to give it credit for, btw, but I digress). And if that's the case, then the question gets raised: why bother focusing on or expanding Kairi at all? She doesn't "sell".

THIS is why Kairi was doomed from the start. It's not her fault. But it's sadly the truth.

[badasgirlfriend]

Stolen Hoodie | Bada Lee Social Media Au

pairings: bada lee x shin nari

prev - next

Tatter was patiently for Bada to leave her things so they could leave to eat something. Bada tossed her bag to the ground before removing her grey hoodie and tossing it down next to it. After fixing her hair, Bada made her way towards Tatter, eager to get going and

"Let's go. I'm starving," Bada said with a smile.

Tatter nudged her playfully in response as she eagerly nodded, "Finally. I thought you'd never come."

They stepped into the busy cafeteria, filled with students from the university of arts. Tatter grabbed some tteokbokki, while Bada settled for some pizza.

Tatter let out a groan upon discovering that her food was cold to the touch. "Nooo, it's cold," she exclaimed.

Bada chuckled in response, "Well, what did you expect? For them to keep it warm just for you?" Tatter stuck out her tongue at Bada

Tatter looked around not knowing how to start the conversation shes been longing to have. She cleared her throat deciding to just go for it

"Sooo, my friend has this friend whos super pretty and hot" Tatter began to ramble but Bada wasnt paying attention to her, her eyes locked on her phone as she scrolled down "Look she's so pretty and funny

Tatter showed her a picture of Nari but Bada didnt even cast a glance "Yeah so pretty"

"Bada," Tatter whined again, her phone now locked, "You didn't even look at her!"

Bada huffed, setting down her phone. She looked up at her best friend, giving her a sigh that was both genuine and resigned. "I'm sorry, Tatter," she spoke softly, her tone being sincere yet not budging. "I'm not interested in anyone right now, and I don't plan on it."

"But, Bada-" Tatter started to say, but Bada quickly cut her off.

"Tatter, please," she said with her eyes locking with her best friend's. There was true sincerity and desperation in that single glance, as she begged for Tatter to please understand and respect her decision.

Tatter sighed, as she felt a deep sense of guilt and sympathy for her friend. She had held her tongue while Bada was with her ex-girlfriend, despite Tatter's distaste for the woman's attitude, simply because her best friend had loved her so much.

Yet now, she was confronted with the reality of that love ending, and her best friend being betrayed in that way. Tatter let out a grumble at Bada's misfortune, her feelings of hatred and hurt growing deeper in her chest as she processed the situation.

Tatter wanted nothing but for Bada to find joy and healing. Though, she also acknowledged Bada's position and feelings, which she had to respect. She had to allow her friend the time and space she needed to process and recover from such a traumatic event, regardless of how badly she wanted to see her smiling again.

Bada's question startled Tatter out of her reverie, as she turned to look at her best friend. "I'm done. Are you ready?" she asked, as Tatter glanced at the partially uneaten pizza.

"But, you didn't even finish your pizza," Tatter pointed, confused.

Bada simply shook her head, replying, "I'm not that hungry anymore." She didn't elaborate, seemingly more focused on getting ready to leave. Tatter didn't protest and got up

Unbeknownst to Bada and Tatter, Nari walked into the dance class, noting that the door was opened. She couldn't help but smirk mischeviously as she scanned the room, recalling the tweet she'd recently seen. "Fashion students are annoying, huh?" she spoke out loud, her tone dripping with sarcasm and disdain.

Nari's eyes scanned the environment, ensuring she was alone before grabbing the grey hoodie from the floor and stepping out of the open door. After confirming that nobody was nearby, she bolted for the hallway

As Bada and Tatter turned the corner, they saw their dance class door opened. However, things quickly turned sour as Bada recognized something - a girl was leaving with her grey hoodie.

"Hey, isn't that my hoodie?" Bada pointed out, her expression shifting to disbelief. Tatter followed her gaze, noting the familiar grey hoodie being taken away by a complete stranger.

Tatter couldn't control her laughter as "Y-yeah"

"Stop laughing-HEY THATS MY HOODIE" Bada yelled but the girl, was completely unaware of Bada's yells, she maintained a swift pace as she walked away.

Bada's shouts were pointless and the girl walked out from view. The dark haired girl with tall girls hoodie left no sign of recognition, her back facing Bada the entire time.

Bada didn't even try to chase her "What the fuck did I just witness"

[agentrouka-blog]

I often see this sentiment that Ned should have told Cat the truth about Jon and it would have solved all their problems. I disagree with this? I don't think Ned was being an idiot for not telling Cat. I think there were a multitude of reasons of why he didn't tell her, and all of them held weight in his decision.

1) he didn't know or trust her when they got married

2) a secret stops being one if you tell even one person about it. He promised Lyanna he wouldn't tell anyone and that included everyone, except obviously the people already present at the tower (Howland and the wet nurse I presume)

3) there is a possibility that Cat's behavior towards Jon would have changed knowing he was not a result of Ned's affair, but her resentment towards him also provided a cover. If she treated him, say cordially, then it would have been very suspicious considering Ned was already fostering him at his own home.

4) after he came to know Cat, he would have realized that she was fiercely protective of her family, she wouldn't have thought twice before giving up Jon for her children if it came to that. A choice no sane person, including Ned, can fault her for. By not telling her, he removed that option for her, saved Jon and also saved her from the guilt that would have haunted her.

5) he was committing treason that would have endangered Cat and his children. In case it ever got out there was plausible deniability for his family that they didn't know and it might have saved them.

His actions hurt both Catelyn and Jon but it was a very complicated situation overall so I understand him too. I don't know what would have been the alternative because I don't think telling Catelyn would have solved anything. What is your opinion on this?

I don't think people generally claim it would have magically fixed "everything", but many also misunderstand how Ned is mishandling the situation. He isn't actually handling it well by himself, he isn't handling it the way he would have if Jon was actually his bastard. His inability to be "normal" about it and come up with a convincing lie created most of the avoidable problems we see, which is Catelyn's eternal insecurity about Ned's feelings for Jon (and his mother) which feeds her anxiety about her own children being usurped, plus Jon's complete trauma over knowing absolutely nothing about his mother. Both are left hanging for no logical reason from their POV, and that's an absolutely insane path for Ned to go down.

True, and then he chose to go the worst way about it and never fixed it later.

Howland knows. The Daynes know. Wylla probably knows. Benjen probably knows. Come on. And we don't know what she made him promise and it's more likely to be along the lines of protecting her son than specifically never telling anyone who could have helped him handle this better.

Catelyn being "nice" to Jon isn't even half of it. She could have advised Ned on how to handle the situation in a realistic way with the least harm done. Which is likely to foster Jon somewhere, make plans for his future instead of leaving him aimless, create a believable lie about his mother that doesn't shame him, have a harmoniously accepted situation instead of making his kids grow up with this unresolved conflict warping their emotional well-being.

What situation could realistically arise where Cat could "sell out" Jon to "save" her children that specifically depends on her knowing this and also wouldn't mean they are all already in deep trouble? It's nonsense. Also, Catelyn "Family Duty Honor" Tully would not fault Ned for wanting to save his sister's child. It's a perfectly decent choice on his part and a dilemma she could easily understand. Come on!

How is this (thin glaze) of plausible deniability not equally achieved by simply lying (and lying better than Ned can, especially)?

It's just that Ned left both Cat and Jon deeply anxious and traumatized, respectively, because his decision was to lie very badly and then refuse to answer all reasonable questions. It has repercussions for all of them. From Cat to Sansa to Jon to Robb.

Plus: Ned may have actually had an opportunity to heal from his horrific trauma if he had talked to literally anyone about it. He may have been less likely to cling to Robert as a vestige of his lost youth, blinding himself to the man's monstrous faults and sticking around to his own doom.

It would not have "fixed everything" but you can't convince me it wouldn't have fixed some things.

[after-witch]

Hey beautiful, so I was rereading your fic Sufferance and I've been meaning to ask; is there a particular explanation behind the occasional unreadable expressions Chrollo makes within the story? There are a few moments during the beginning and near the end of the rape scene where he seems to 'potentially' feel some sort of way that's hard to grasp. I'd assumed these weren't elaborated on simply because Chrollo's canonically pretty difficult to read and Reader herself was already in a state of extreme stress, but I have to wonder: were you perhaps thinking of a specific kind of emotion that Chrollo was seemingly suppressing deep down?

There's a line for example, near the end of the fic where Reader seems to think Chrollo appears to feel guilty, only for him to state that he actually feels as though his raping of her was not his fault but entirely hers alone. Initially I took this at face value to mean that whilst Chrollo may have regretted their "first time" turning out the way it did, he didn't feel any legitimate guilt for having violated Reader in the first place. I still have to wonder though, if perhaps you were trying to indicate that Chrollo maybe did feel a sense of guilt in that brief moment, but perhaps avoided addressing it by immediately deflecting the blame onto Reader so his emotions and conscience could remain completely untainted by regret or doubt.

Then there's the other moment (more towards the beginning) where his expression fluctuates right after the line where Reader states he "can't do this" (before he removes her pants) and Reader herself makes note on the fact that it was impossible to read the look on his face due to both the breakneck pace and stress of the situation. Now, I know that as an author you might not want to reveal any emotions Chrollo could have potentially been feeling in order to maintain the mystery of what he was thinking in this fic, and if you'd rather leave it up to the viewer or would rather not say, I definitely get it and completely understand. However, I will not lie when I say I am itching to hear your opinion on the issue, and if you yourself had ever personally envisioned Chrollo to feel a certain type of way when writing those particular moments. Was he making those faces due to stirrings of guilt or regret? Were those expressions being formed from things like confusion (maybe at his lack of self control) or annoyance at Reader or himself? Was it some strange sense of pity or something akin to stoic condescending sorrow in the face of Reader's pathetic helplessness that made him make those subtle faces? If you're cool with offering any answers, I can tell you I'd be dying to know <3

Oh, 'non, this is such a thoughtful comment I would feel awful for not at least trying to explain or offering up some thoughts for you.

There's a line for example, near the end of the fic where Reader seems to think Chrollo appears to feel guilty, only for him to state that he actually feels as though his raping of her was not his fault but entirely hers alone. Initially I took this at face value to mean that whilst Chrollo may have regretted their "first time" turning out the way it did, he didn't feel any legitimate guilt for having violated Reader in the first place. I still have to wonder though, if perhaps you were trying to indicate that Chrollo maybe did feel a sense of guilt in that brief moment, but perhaps avoided addressing it by immediately deflecting the blame onto Reader so his emotions and conscience could remain completely untainted by regret or doubt.

I think Chrollo might have some regret that their first time was not the fantasy he'd probably gone over in his head, but not actual guilt. He would easily, in his mind, justify what he's done because he tried to be "good" about it for so long.

His regret would be that it impacts him, and how the experience went for him, and how your inevitable traumatized reaction to it will impact him. It's regret, yes, but it's a greedy regret.

But as far as guilt, no, not really. Reader might wish he did. Reader would probably even pick up on his regret and plaster a fantasy where he regrets doing it for non-selfish reasons, just to make it more tolerable. Pretending is easier, sometimes.

Then there's the other moment (more towards the beginning) where his expression fluctuates right after the line where Reader states he "can't do this" (before he removes her pants) and Reader herself makes note on the fact that it was impossible to read the look on his face due to both the breakneck pace and stress of the situation. ... Was he making those faces due to stirrings of guilt or regret? Were those expressions being formed from things like confusion (maybe at his lack of self control) or annoyance at Reader or himself? Was it some strange sense of pity or something akin to stoic condescending sorrow in the face of Reader's pathetic helplessness that made him make those subtle faces?

Perhaps confusion, but not in the sense that he's confused at himself--reader saying he "can't" means that they have fundamentally misunderstood him, and who he is, and what he can do to them or anyone else. And it's perhaps that misunderstanding which led to this situation in the first place, where reader felt like they could push and push and push and push him, and not have consequences.

A misunderstanding which leads him to remind the reader:

“I’m a thief, love. I can take whatever I want.”

And he does just that.

I hope that explanation makes sense! Thank you for the thoughtful comments, pinning this to my figurative fridge, it makes me kick my legs (but literally) when people talk about my writing and it's clear that you've put tons of thought into something. Like.. .ahhh it just feels nice, thank you again for this message!

[soyeonsbabygirl]

If anyone here defends Taeil or supports him in any sort of way at all despite him being guilty. You are not welcome here. I will block you.

This man hurt and traumatized people and possibly has ties to the nth room. SM the company that kept Lucas during his sexual assault case immediately removed Taeil. That should tell you that whatever excess evidence there is, is enough to get him kicked out. Therefore meaning that this is true.

Using Hyuna as a way to say “Ggs aren’t good either!!” Is fucking stupid. Yes Hyuna is a bad person but the reason why people don’t like her is because she is openly engaged to someone who is in burning sun. She KNOWS what he did and still chooses to stand by him and support him.

And while on the topic of ggs, we won’t see this with them. The reason being the worst scandals they get in are dating and bullying scandals. We don’t hear about them R*ping someone, stalking them for 6 years, or threatening them.

At the end of the day, we do NOT know these men. Idols like any celebrity put on a front of who they want us to see. We don’t know them personally at all, they could be terrible people but we would not know. I know it is scary for bg Stan’s because they are terrified to know if their fav is on that list and my heart goes out to them.

This whole scandal proves yet again what people have been saying about men and male idols for years (especially after burning sun). It may be “not all men” but it is always fucking men and too many people are hurt. My heart goes out to the victims who I hope can heal and recover from the trauma that this disgusting person has caused them.

I’ll link some helpful threads later today on more of the situation and some more Korean women sharing their stories of what has been happening to them. Stories that the media will never cover so they need the help of people outside of Korea to bring these issues to light. Please educate yourself on what is going on.

[seoftbear]

TW

discussing the taeil situation

As I’m sure many of you have seen that Taeil was removed/left NCT due to Sexual Offense Allegations.

“On August 29, the Seoul Bangbae Police Station revealed that the police booked Taeil after a report was filed in June for alleged sexual offense.

According to the police, Taeil is being investigated after being reported by legal adult woman “A.”

source

First off I’d like to say that obviously Im absolutely disgusted with Taeil and this entire thing makes me feel sick. I know they won’t see this but my thoughts are with those effected by this and I’m glad she had the courage to speak out and I hope she gets the support and justice that she wants during this time.

Now I’d like to talk about what has been weighing on me personally about this situation? I tend to stay off of twitter but I’ve seen a lot of links and post being circulated in the last 24 hours about this and it’s been really killing me.

As of now the police have booked Taeil back in June and he is being investigated by police for sexual offense, currently that’s all of the information that’s been confirmed by authorities. (I linked the article above and that has a link to the Naver article too.)

I’m sure some of you guys may be younger and haven’t truly grasped the full gravity of this, but misinformation can really damage cases like this especially as a woman.

Unfortunately the internet spread fake news fast and screenshots and stories have been circulating on twt/tiktok social media in general being translated and mistranslated from numerous different languages and people are just adding to the narrative for the drama it seems like… (please understand that even if something is in a different language and “translated” it does not make it facts.) I’ve seen others ask people where the source was for the information they got and then get called “Taeil defenders” when they just wanted to know where the information came from in the first place. I also read comments where people were saying that it didn’t matter if it was misinformation?

This is someone’s life we are talking about and seeing people say “they can’t wait for certain youtube channels to make videos about this because they need all of the details” or “they’ve been searching for more information all day and have come up with etc etc.” is really disheartening to see it be made into a spectacle. There’s only been one statement from the police as I’m aware of and in under 24 hours twt has finalized and circulated a story that has no source.

Unfortunately this stuff will happen because it’s the internet regardless and people are curious and in shock so wanting details on something is understandable but please understand that this is someone’s life not just backlash and justice against Taeil.

Speaking out isn’t easy and speaking out against a celebrity under big company? I can’t imagine, so please please please think about what you are posting and reposting. It’s not you supporting the victim, it’s just spreading gossip, theories/speculations, and can really tamper with the case guys. This is already a traumatizing experience and now it’s public and people are prying to know details about something so horrible and invasive??? At the end of the day if no statements are released about details or information and you are upset please take a step back and really think what for.

With this Ive seen a lot of people talk about parasocial relationships, how you don’t know these men, all men are men at the end of the day, don’t trust your favs etc etc. Though I definitely agree with you don’t know the people you like at the end of the day, I think that everyone knows that to some extent. However I don’t think parasocial relationship or not knowing someone is to blame when this kind of stuff happens, rather it’s normal to believe that someone you admire/like is cool person especially if portrayed that way. The thing about abusers/assaulters is that they can be anyone, that’s not to say that you shouldn’t trust anyone and that all people/idols are secretly awful but it’s more about that it’s not anyone’s fault for believing that they were a good person. So if anyone is going through that “ I can’t believe I liked someone like that” feeling that’s okay. It’s not your fault and you’re allowed to work through them.

that’s all

sorry if this is too long and makes no sense or comes off wrong or disrespectful please let me know kindly

[0lshadyl0]

Any HCs or scenarios on Yandere Hancock boa ?? I think she an interesting character 🥰

Of course, my dear, she is a fascinating character, in fact, she is my favorite female character after Nico Robin, I am weak to black haired women with cool powers and sad past.

Yandere Boa Hancock headcanons

• Brave of you to assume that she is not a yandere in the canon, that is, she has all the points to follow for her character to be a yandere, especially a delusional yandere

• sad past with traumatic events, no friends, position of power, no one contradicts her, she gets lost in her own fantasies, lives in her own reality and obsesses over a person beyond what is sanely possible, yeah she checks all the marks 

• But, she would only become obsessed with her romantic interest if he has a very specific personality (for example, Luffy)

• Ok, let's say that the key for her to fix her eyes on you is that you have heroic tendencies, that is, she likes people with a good heart, willing to do what others would consider crazy in order to help others. the others (such as hitting a Tenryūbito, better yet, killing one)  

• or just a very kind person with a great charisma, very positive mind but who doesn't take shit from anyone

• if things happened naturally, I'm pretty sure Hancock would be obsessed with a woman, Luffy is an exception to the rule (call it the power of the script thanks to being the protagonist of the series)

• Let's remember that the first men in her life that she met were the Tenryūbito and they are the worst experiences that a young woman like Boa could have, emotionally, physically and sexually (I'm 200% sure that she was raped by a good number of them, that's why despite being in love with Luffy she never sees herself having children with him… probably she can't even get pregnant due to irreparable damage to her sexual organ or simply they removed the ovaries so that she could not get pregnant by the Tenryūbito since she was a slave and the slaves are not worthy of having a child with a being as noble as a Tenryūbito is)

• Anyway, when she fixes her eyes on you, in her head she already begins to live in a world apart

• You've probably seen each other a maximum of five times and most of it in battles, possibly you saved her from some dangerous situation but not paying much attention to her, but in her head, you two are already engaged

• Yes, she is the type of women who, from a very young age, dreamed of getting married and having a large family full of love, a dream that has been transformed into only having a partner to love and be loved by because of the Tenryūbito and all their shit

• She is a relatively easy yandere to deal with, since the word of her s/o is divine law for her, she will never question you, nor will she go against you, she will not hesitate to put herself in danger or give her life for you, she literally will kill for you

• But, keep in mind, she is very jealous and in an unjustified way, nobody can look at you because she is already asking questions and imagining scenarios where you abandon her.

• Because, despite all that she says about being the most beautiful woman in the world, she actually has low self-esteem due to her past as a slave, she doesn't feel that she is worthy of you, because she is dirty

• But if you tell her that you are not interested in that person or deny knowing about the existence of the person who made her jealous, she will believe you without a shadow of a doubt.

• You can tell her that the sky is green and for her, yes, ultimately the sky is green and she will turn anyone who says otherwise into stone

• She is a stalker, she will follow you everywhere and will always be watching you, of course, at a respectful (Hinata-Naruto style) distance if the two of you get into a relationship, she will stick to you like gum, she is unbelievably clingy and has no idea of the meaning of personal space

• She is one of the few yanderes who have no sexual intentions, because she is traumatized with sex (she has never known about vanilla sex or consent) and considers it torture, she loves you too much to do you any kind of harm

• Oh, but if she were to get over her traumas and discover that sex can be enjoyed and is a way to stay connected to the one she loves, man, get ready for a long ride