#and i ❤ tragedy

[amatres]

the friendship conversation you have at the end of the game when you leave alistair at the gates and don't do the dark ritual. insane. it lives in my mind rent free

he promises to make sure no one forget you! and then in his epilogue when he doesn't become king, he stays to make sure your statue is built before finally leaving ferelden and the order bc he can't bear the thought of being in the wardens when you're gone! it's not the same anymore!

how much guilt did he have putting the warden in charge of the decision making at the end, how much did he think he was at fault for their death because he made them the leader? duncan's ghost haunts him during the blight, but it's your's that haunts him after

[patrickztump]

because i love to see correlations: put in the tags the year you first started listening and if it’s your Favorite album, or just special.

[fivekrystalpetals]

wow who would have thunk the reason the Tragedy of Sablier went down was not because of some intricate political intrigue, the four Dukedoms wanting to grab the power of the Abyss for themselves, the Baskervilles made to become the scapegoats for the Tragedy etc. etc.

but because...... every player in the backstory is I N S A N E

(I haven't read a wilder backstory for anything than this,, Retrace 66-74 what even are you???????? WHAT DO YOU MRAN OZ IS B_RABBIT DOES IT EVEN MAKE ANY SENSE??!?!?)

[prythianpages]

Lay All Your Love On Me | Cassian x Reader

summary: Cassian is your best friend and best friend’s don’t thirst after one another. Best friends don’t get jealous. Best friends also don’t fall in love with one another. But you did.

warnings: mild angst; smut at the end; basically, mutual jealousy

a/n: this was inspired by ABBA's song. I'm working on a series where I dedicate a song to each of the ACOTAR men and you can find the masterlist here. I feel like this is borderline crack at some points tbh and probably the longest one shot I've ever written. Also, the amount of times I've rewritten this is insane so I hope you like this final version ❤

Adrenaline courses through your veins. The wind becomes your companion, offering a resistance that you always find yourself craving. It caresses your skin, leaving a bittersweet ache. Running is the closest feeling to flying. Though your wings, tucked behind you, remain, they are rendered useless and forever will be. Those sick Illyrian males, paid off by your own brother, made sure of that.

Sometimes, you wish they would’ve just sloughed them off. An Illyrian with no wings is a tragedy but an Illyrian with useless wings is a devastating tragedy. A fate that, unfortunately, all Illyrian females have to endure.

Heated frustration surges within you, spurred on by the luminous blue hues radiating from the siphons encircling your wrists. You shake your head and take deep breaths because you can not let those triggering thoughts win. You can’t let them win. The primal thud of your heart urges you to push forward and–

“Fuck, marry, kill.”

“Cassian,” you nearly hiss, though the flutter in your chest betrays you. 

“Come on,” he says, a grin playing on his lips as he matches your pace. “Me, Az, and Rhys. Go!”

You slow down your pace to shoot him a sidelong glance and pivot, turning to run the opposite direction. Heat rises to your cheeks. You blame it on your exercise. 

“We played this last night.”

Undeterred, Cassian picks up his pace to stay ahead of you, running backwards with ease. “And you didn’t answer me.”

As you both rounded a corner, someone bumped into you. Your steps faltered slightly before you caught your own balance. 

“Oops. Sorry, didn’t–”

The Illyrian male who collided with you didn’t even have time to finish his apology, as insincere as it was. Cassian shoved him, sending the male plummeting to the ground with a growl. You swear you hear him choke on dirt.

“Watch it, asshole.”

When Cassian turns back to you, you arch a brow at him and he gives you a nonchalant shrug. You both know that male intentionally bumped into you. As one of the few Illyrian females who has defied tradition and trained extensively, the disrespect constantly thrown at you is no surprise. Though you’re no longer fazed by it, you can’t say the same for Cassian.

His gaze softens and grin returns, the wind tousling his dark hair as he maintains his backward stride. “Now, where were we?”

“Fine,” you say with a huff.

It’s not in Cassian’s nature to give up. You’ve played this game multiple times, introduced by Mor, with the inner circle on drunken nights. You were always quick with your answers but not this time. Not when your options were three of your close friends and among them, there was one you secretly or maybe not so secretly harbored feelings for.  That and the lack of liquid courage you usually have at your side when playing.

“Fuck Azriel.”

Cassian’s steps come to a stop and so do yours, albeit reluctantly. There’s a glint in his hazel eyes as he looks at you. “I’m going to tell him.”

“Go ahead,” you reply because you don’t care if the Shadowsingers knows. He’s the safest choice of them all and he wouldn’t let this stupid game get to his head unlike Cassian. “You know that’d be your answer too.”

Both you and Cassian share a look because you’re not wrong.

Then, you both are turning your heads to find the Shadowsinger. Azriel stands at the far end of the training grounds, engaged in the rhythmic lifting of weights. Shirtless. The distance between you two and him is vast, rendering any audible communication impossible. However, the subtle play of shadows around his ears catches your attention, and as if sensing your gazes, he turns, narrowing his eyes at both you and Cassian with an uncanny perceptiveness.

Caught red-handed, both you and Cassian turn your heads away. He looks at you again. “So,” he starts once more and you bite back the urge to groan. At this moment, you’re almost inclined to reveal that you’d like to do all three to the Illyrian male in front of you.

 “Who will you be marrying? Me or Rhys?”

It’s as if he heard his name being called. Rhysand prods gently at the shields of your mind and when you allow him in, you know he relayed the same message to Cassian and Azriel. You both head over to the sparring grounds, where Azriel is already waiting for you. He throws a sword to you and then to Cassian.

Cassian wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively and you slap his arm. He pinches your side in retaliation, a reminder that you’re not going to live this one down. He moves into position and you mirror him.

He lifts his sword, feigning a lunge that you counter with a swift parry. Your movements are both graceful and calculated, a testament to the years of training under his guidance. Meanwhile, Azriel circles around you both, a silent spectator.

Cassian’s strikes intensify, growing more precise every time. Your swords clash, ringing in the air. But despite your skill, Cassian is stronger, more experienced. Seizing an opportune moment, he lunges with a force that sends you stumbling backward. Your sword clatters to the ground as you find yourself seated on the training grounds.

"Did I serve?" Cassian smirks, offering a mock salute, his muscles flexing in a playful display. "Or did I serve?"

He twirls his sword with a flourish, unaware of the glare you shoot his way. With a determined huff, you gather yourself, reaching for your fallen weapon and swiftly rising to your feet. In a strategic move, you deliver a swift kick, sweeping Cassian off his feet and onto his back.

With a triumphant grin, you step forward, placing a boot on his chest to keep him on the ground. You press your weight on him teasingly, knowing that Azriel is not the only one watching you two anymore. Hazel eyes sparkle back at you with a mixture of pride and a subtle undertone, a hint of something more lingering beneath the surface, as your sword hovers just above his neck. It brings forth an unspoken tension between you both and if you hadn’t blinked, you wouldn’t have missed the way Cassian licks his lips as he looks up at you.

"You got served."

Cassian laughs as you drop your sword and lift your boot. You don’t bother to offer him a hand, wanting to bask in your victory as much as possible but much to your dismay, Azriel helps him up.

Thank you for humbling him.

You turn around to see Rhysand. His lips purse, suppressing his amusement. His eyes become unreadable as he dons his High Lord mask. A palpable aura of immense power radiates from him. 

Beside him, stands another male, whose presence commands just as much attention as Rhysand. His skin is a rich brown and hair white. You’ve never met him before but you know who he is as Rhysand had informed you of his visit. It’s why you were conveniently training in Windhaven, despite your preference for the training grounds atop the House of Wind.

The three of you greet Rhysand first before bowing your heads in respect to the High Lord of the Summer Court.

“This is Cassian, general commander of my armies. This is y/n, one of our great Illyrian warriors and this is Azriel, my spymaster. They are all well equipped and are looking forward to working with your soldiers for the next two weeks.”

**

You’ve rarely traveled outside of the Night Court. You weren't a high fae like Mor or Rhysand so you couldn’t winnow and after the clipping of your wings, you couldn’t fly like Cassian or Azriel. So your friends were your main means of transportation and you were looking forward to working with High Lord Nostrus’s soldiers as it was a means for you to get to explore another one of Prythian’s lovely courts.

But now that you’re here, in their training grounds, you’re no longer looking forward to being here for the next two weeks.

Not when one particularly strikingly beautiful female soldier has set her eyes on Cassian and certainly not when there’s an unfamiliar burning resentment in your chest too strong to ignore. It flares every time her gaze or touch lingers too long. By the Cauldron, since when did every woman you see become a potential threat with Cassian? He is your friend.

A reminder that stings as much as the intensity of the burning feeling coursing through you. Though, you’ve never felt this way before, you realize that you’ve been more sensitive in anything Cassian these past couple of months–since starfall. It’s as if he casted a spell on you, one where you can only think about him. He’s your every waking thought and lingers as your final thought before sleep.

The feeling in your chest flares to a blazing fire when you overhear him praise the female soldier and the wooden sword splinters in your grasp, falling to the ground. 

This is going to be a long two weeks.

“Are you jealous?” Azriel muses beside you.

“Me?” You say with a huff, kicking the evidence of the broken sword away. Of course it doesn’t go unnoticed by Azriel, the skilled spymaster. The corner of his lips quirk up but you insist. “Jealous? Never.”

You send an amused Azriel a glare before picking up another practice sword. Determined to not let your jealousy get in the way, you engage yourself in training the small group assigned to you. You were here for a reason and you’d give the soldiers under your command your all.

**

After a full afternoon of training, you were eager to clean the dirt and sweat off your skin. You were also eager to distance yourself as much from Cassian and that female before you did something you’d regret. Your bath worked wonders to ease every tense muscle. If you hadn’t been invited by High Lord Nostrus to dinner, you would’ve basked in the warmth of the water a little longer. The sound of waves crashing soothes you as you make your way to your bed, ruffling your damp hair with a towel.

Nestled adjacent to Cassian's and Azriel's quarters, your room stands vast and breathtaking. It’s also missing an entire wall. In its place, vines adorned with blooming dahlias weave along the room's edges, seamlessly bridging the gap between the interior and the great sea outdoors. 

Your attention gravitates towards the bed, adorned in the softest silks, a sanctuary you can’t wait to sink into. Atop it rests a box, concealing an invitation to dinner and an outfit that differs greatly from your Illyrian leathers.

You find a dress. A pale blue masterpiece with a daring plunging neckline and high slits. You’ve never worn anything like it. The fabric is soft and weightless, its wispy texture feels like a gentle sea breeze caressing your skin with every step. You appreciate that it was backless to accommodate your wings.

Sitting down at the vanity, the jewelry that was in the box sparkles back up at you. You're touched by the High Lord’s gesture but you’re also wary of all his gifts. You settle on the most simplest of jewelry–diamond earrings and a sapphire necklace that reminds you of the siphons you wear. You have three in total but the one wrapped around your wrist is the only one you keep with you at all times. You save the other two for when you’re training or fighting to help you control your power.

As you step out of your room, Cassian and Azriel's eyes are drawn to you. You smile at them in greeting. Cassian's gaze lingers, a silent appreciation etched in every curve and contour he not so discreetly takes in. Warmth prickles at your skin, and an inexplicable spark ignites within your chest in response.

Azriel clears his throat, amused eyes dancing between you two. “Shall we?”

Cassian, as if emerging from a trance, regains his composure and grins at you. He extends his arm and you gratefully hook yours through his as he leads the way down the hall. You notice that he also switched his leathers into something more befitting the Summer court’s warmth. He wears dark navy linen pants that match Azriel’s but unlike the dark shirt the Shadowsinger wears, he chose a lighter colored one. The fabric is nearly see through, offering a teasing peek at the tattoos embellishing his chest and the defined muscles that lie beneath.

You feel his gaze on you as you walk beside him that prompts you to look up at him in question. He takes a moment to respond and finally with a sheepish smile says, “you smell nice.”

“Oh, thanks. I used coconut soap that was left in my bathroom,” you respond, a tinge of confusion and subtle disappointment coloring your words. At least it was an actual compliment unlike last starfall when all he said was “you look different.” Yet, it embarrassingly still had the same effect, leaving you blushing. 

Azriel, walking behind you, can't help but let out a snort. Idiots, he thinks to himself. His shadows agree.

**

There’s a wide assortment of delicious food laid out for you all. Your lips quirk up when you catch the way Cassian’s eyes light up at the sight. You take the seat next to him and Azriel the seat across from you. High Lord Nostrus sits at the head of the table, gesturing for you all to dive in. With a snap of his fingers, the golden chalices in front of you fill with a sweet wine.

“I appreciate you all for your efforts in helping strengthen my armies.”

Cassian’s mouth was full of food and Azriel brought his drink to his lips, not keen on the idea of making small talk with the High Lord. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes at your male companions, you muster a smile and turn to Nostrus instead.

“I believe we should be the ones thanking you for being such a gracious host. As emissaries of our esteemed High Lord, it is our sincere desire that our efforts not only strengthen your armies but also fortify the bonds of alliance between the courts of Summer and Night.”

“Of course.” Nostrus's turquoise eyes study you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze settling on your wings. The instinct to protectively tuck them in tighter behind you flares, a vulnerable self-consciousness settling in. "From my understanding, it is not common for an Illyrian female to train and fight. Am I right?"

“Yes, you are correct. But I am working closely with my High Lord to rectify that.”

Cassian, sensing your unease, swallows his food, and a reassuring hand finds its place on your thigh, offering a comforting squeeze. You're familiar with Cassian's expressive and caring nature through touch. However, his simple and sweet gestures, such as the way he’s touching your thigh right now, sends your heart racing instead.

"I watched you from afar this afternoon. You took down some of my best soldiers with ease," Nostrus remarks, and a gentle breeze from the nearby sea courses through the open dining room, sending a shudder through your wings. His perceptive eyes catch the movement. "Your wings are different."

The hand on your thigh tightens, mirroring the constriction in your throat.

"High Lord–" Cassian begins, a subtle warning threaded through his otherwise light tone.

Nostrus raises his hand. "I mean no harm. Truly." 

His gaze remains fixed on you as he continues, "As you see, we pride ourselves on every soldier, regardless of gender. Anyone who swears loyalty to this court is held in great esteem. I protect them as much as they would protect my court. While I do not know your story, I now know your worth, and if the Night Court is not able to appreciate you, then–"

"The Night Court appreciates her just fine," Cassian interrupts, a protective edge slicing through his words. He hates Nostrus’s accusatory tone and ignores the warning look Azriel sends his way.

You place a hand over Cassian’s but keep your eyes on Nostrus. “You flatter me, High Lord,” you manage to say with a smile. “Though my scars may say otherwise, I can assure you that my High Lord treats me well. In fact, High Lord Rhysand is working on banning the practice of clipping wings so our future generations will not know the horrors enacted under previous rulers…”

**

Your wings, draped behind you, bear the burden of your trauma–the betrayal of your brother. You hate how sensitive you are at the mere mention of them. You wipe hastily at your eyes. Cassian, who refused to part ways with you at your door, stands silently beside you. Your haunting memories store themselves back into the depths of your mind as his movements catch your attention. It’s strange but comforting, the way he always knows when you don’t want to talk and are in need of a distraction instead.

But your cheeks heat up because you’re unsure if this distraction is a good idea. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Cassian grins at you as he continues stripping himself of his clothes. “I’m going for a swim.”

He winks at you as he kicks his pants off, leaving him in only his boxer briefs that are clinging to him in a way that makes your mouth nearly water. You pull your gaze away, hating the way your mind wants to drift to devious thoughts because you know what lies underneath. You’ve seen him in his full glory far too many times than you’d like to admit–each one of them on accident.

Your heart flutters madly against the fragile cage of your chest and you press a hand against it as if that would do anything to ease your racing heart. Because Cassian is your best friend and best friend’s don’t thirst after one another. Best friends also don’t fall in love with one another. 

But you did.

He was your mentor before he became your friend and each passing year since then seemed to usher in a quiet surrender. Almost as if every step was an unspoken agreement with your heart, blurring in between the fine line of friendship and something else. You navigated the staircase of emotions, unaware, until you stood near the bottom. Instead of gracefully reaching the last step, the sudden realization of your feelings felt like a forceful tumble, leaving you to hit the ground and boy did you hit it hard.

The sound of a joyful splash resonates through the air, harmonizing with the playful melody of droplets that dance against your bare legs. You shoot a glare Cassian’s way, even though you didn’t mind, and you can’t bring yourself to care when he flicks a middle finger at you in response. You’re far too used to them to be bothered. Realizing that the water felt nice and warm, you nestle yourself on the edge of the floor. You hike your dress up and then dip your legs into the soothing waters.

Bathed in the ethereal glow of moonlight, Cassian floats on his back, allowing his wings to carry him through the soft waves. Your gaze lingers on him, tracing the moonlit contours of his muscles. Another splash pulls you out of your trance and this time, the droplets reach the thin fabric of your dress.

“Come on, bibble!” Cassian exclaims.

Your glare returns, irritation flickering in your eyes. “I told you to stop calling me that!”

His grin widens, undeterred. “Won’t you join me?”

You respond with a swift kick, creating a splash that dances towards him. Regret settles in immediately as his eyes light up in the moonlight, holding mischief, as he swims toward you.

“Bibble’,” he nearly purrs, somehow making the stupid nickname sound downright sinful. He braces his hands on either side of you, the muscles of his arms flexing. His chest brushes against your legs and all you can think about is how nice he feels so close to you. “Why won’t you join me?”

You’re looking anywhere but him. “I don’t feel like it.”

Cassian hums, his thoughtful gaze lingering for a moment longer than you'd expect. You release a breath you didn't realize you were holding when he turns his head. It’s a short lived moment of relief because in a heartbeat, he pulls your legs from underneath you and drags you into the water with him. You’re splashing and writhing and like an idiot, your mouth opens in panic.

Cassian's strong arms swiftly encircle you, pulling you up from the water's depths. As you resurface, you're coughing and sputtering, water droplets cascading down your face. He chuckles while you hit his chest. 

"I can't swim, you idiot!" 

"Relax," Cassian laughs, his hands holding your hips firmly to keep you afloat with him. His expression, though soft, morphs into something more serious. "I’ve got you. I always will.”

His words unrattle something deep within you and you can’t move, can’t think properly. You can only feel. Your mind goes blank and eyes grow distant as you’re brought back to the night he first said those words. Right after he found you laying in a pool of your own blood. It was the night your wings were clipped. A hand reaches out to caress your face and his fingers rest on your chin, directing your focus to him. 

Tears threaten the corners of your eyes. The desire to avert your gaze is strong, but he doesn't permit it. He needs you to answer him. "You know that, right?"

A breath catches in your throat before you finally manage to whisper, "Yeah."

Cassian's lips form a rare, softer smile. He draws you closer until you can feel his breath, sense his warmth. He kisses your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer and when he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours. A thumb brushes gently against your cheek. His gaze dips to your lips and absentmindedly, his thumb slowly traces along your bottom lip. There’s a faraway look in his eyes as he’s lost in contemplation.

Your heart is roaring in your ears and there’s something singing madly in your chest because he’s never touched you like this before. Tell him. Your breath is shaky when you speak. "Cas?"

He holds his gaze to your lips, allowing the soft rocking of a wave to push him closer to you. "Yes?"

Suddenly, the night sky bursts into a kaleidoscope of colors. The unexpected spectacle and the resonating boom startles you, and on instinct, you find refuge in the safety of Cassian's embrace. If he weren’t caught up in the heat of the moment, he would’ve teased you for the way you are clinging madly onto him, legs and arms wrapped tightly around him.

"Wow," you exhale, the initial shock giving way to a relaxed sense of awe.

The fireworks continue to bloom overhead, their vibrant hues reflecting in your wonderstruck eyes. You gradually unwrap your legs from around Cassian, and your arms loosen their hold around his neck. Yet, he maintains a firm grip on your hips.

“Beautiful.”

You hum in agreement, and when you turn back to Cassian, you realize his gaze has never wavered from you throughout the entire display. "What were you going to say?"

"What?"

"What were you going to say earlier…"

"Oh, that," you stammer, panic subtly seeping in, eyebrows furrowing slightly. The courage you once possessed to voice your feelings has dissipated in the wake of the unexpected interruption. “Um, can you teach me how to swim?”

His gaze lingers on you. It’s as if he knows those were not the words you were going to say but he doesn’t push you on it. “Sure,” he says instead and clears his throat, looking away. “But maybe another night?”

“Why?”

You regret your question as soon as you ask it, eyes widening when you feel why. There’s something hard poking at your stomach. You freeze up, not knowing what to do, inadvertently making matters worse. Though the night is dark, the moon glows bright enough for you both to notice your peaked nipples as the thin light fabric of your dress is completely see through in the water.

“Stop staring!” You cry out, using one of your hands to splash water onto him. If he weren’t your lifeline, the only thing keeping you afloat in these deep waters, you would’ve shoved him under water.

Cassian snaps out of it with a flinch, blinking away the salty droplets of water that splashed into his eyes. “I was looking respectfully!”

“Respectfully my ass!”

“I mean, I could look at that too.”

You shoot him a glare, hating the way his words have your insides in a frenzy. He doesn’t seem to care about his obvious arousal poking at you and you don’t have it in you to tease him as you’re desperately trying to hide yours, praying that the vast sea surrounding you is enough to mask your scent. Your hands are grasping out for the vines that run along the edge of the tiles as soon as you can reach them, using them to guide you back into the safety of your room.

You pause before you hoist yourself back up, turning to look at a clearly amused Cassian. 

“Turn around.”

“Oh, come on,” he chuckles but saves you further embarrassment by doing as you asked. You wait until his back is fully turned to you, wings flaring out behind him and spraying you with sea water on purpose, to hoist yourself up into your room. Once you’re on your feet, you pull at one of the many sheets on your bed, wrapping it snug around your exposed body.

“You can turn back around now.” 

“You can look as much as you want, bibble.” He tells you though your gaze remains fixed on the seashell painting on one of your walls. Your mind is racing and if he asked you what colors were on the painting, you would fail miserably in answering him.  “Disrespectfully too.”

You can hear his agonizingly slow footsteps as he makes his way to the door, not bothering to pick up the clothes he left sprawled all over your floor.  “Get out,” you nearly growl at him, not caring anymore, as you turn around and shove at his back. Because if he doesn’t leave soon, you’re sure you’ll lose your self control.

“Mother’s tits, y/n! I’m going!” He exclaims in protest with a grin evident in his tone.

“Well, go faster!” You huff at him, hands still pressing against his back. “I’m.Tired.”

Tired of holding back your emotions, more like it. As soon as he steps out your door, you’re slamming it shut before he can catch a glimpse of your flustered face.

“Sweet dreams, bibble.”

Leaning against the door, you take a moment to catch your breath as Cassian's deep laughter echoes through the halls. You close your eyes, attempting to rein in the whirlwind of emotions surging within you. It’s not the first time Cassian’s teased you and it won’t be the last and you’re certainly not the only one he flirts with. The female soldier from earlier being a prime example of that.

You know he means no harm by it. Yet, his teasing stings. Because you want it to be real, for him to mean every flirtatious gesture and word. You want him to like you and only you.

**

Nostrus's attempts to entice you into staying in his court become increasingly overt with each passing day. Every evening unveils a new gown adorned with matching jewelry and shoes. Precisely at the stroke of ten, the night sky ignites in a display of vibrant fireworks dedicated to the three of you but when you commented the red ones were your favorite, you note more shades of reds lighting up the night skies. Each morning, a charming arrangement of summer flowers graces your presence. Even the soldiers in your training group can't help but notice the High Lord's watchful gaze whenever he deigns to join them.

Azriel finds the spectacle amusing, always the silent observer to any unfolding drama. However, Cassian is less entertained. During your nightly debriefs with Rhysand, he consistently raises the issue and you’ve noticed that during training, he sticks closer to you. 

None of you bring up the heated moment you shared on your first night in Summer. It’s almost as if it didn’t happen at all and you’re not surprised. While it meant something to you, you know it meant nothing to him.

The female soldier, Olianna, you reluctantly learned her name, is as persistent with him as Nostrus is to you. You’re nearing the end of your first week when the female soldier and a couple of others join your nightly dinner with Nostrus and tonight, in her ruby red dress, she looks devastatingly beautiful. She takes the seat beside Cassian. Your unassigned but assigned spot. You begrudgingly sit beside Azriel instead, who is quick to raise a brow at you.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he replies and when you kick his leg under the table, there’s the faintest of a coy smile on his lips.

You barely even touch your plate. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth and it’s not from the food. Cassian has barely even looked at you, engrossed in what appears to be a hilarious conversation with Olianna. You’re thankful when Nostrus excuses you all from dinner, quick to rise from your seat.

“Y/N, may I have a word?” Nostrus calls to you with a smile and when Cassian’s head perks up, finally sparing you a second of his attention, he adds: “In private.”

**

As you make your way back to your room, after a pointless conversation with Nostrus, your steps come abruptly to a halt. Your heart quickens and stomach tightens as you spot Cassian and Olianna down the hall.

Olianna’s hands rest on Cassian’s arms as she looks up at him. Her back is pressed against the wall. He leans down to whisper something that you can’t discern from your distance. It has her giggling and the sound is like a painful stab to your heart. They’re so, so close. That familiar ache settles in your chest, pushing down on you so harshly you can barely breathe. 

How desperately you wish to trade places with her and maybe that could’ve been you, if you had given in to his teasing the other night. While he’d give his body to you, you know his heart would not fall so easily such as the way yours did. Cassian is a true heartthrob, a man who effortlessly captivates the hearts of many but never the one to give his. Why would you be an exception?

You try to push away your unease but fail miserably when they walk further down the hall and disappear around a corner. Doubt begins to creep in, seeping into your bones with a terrifying chilling fear. Maybe, just maybe, there is something more between them and you had lost a battle only you were aware of fighting.

Tears burn at your eyes and as you hear the door shut behind him, you feel your heart shatter at the images that flood your mind. Of him kissing her, touching her and–Stop! 

You’re running blindly to your room, too caught up in your emotions to realize your mistake. Azriel blinks at your sudden entrance, seated on his bed. However, the distress etched across your face propels him to throw his book aside and jump to his feet. Shadows flit towards you, brushing against your exposed skin and he lets out a small exhale in relief when they report no injuries.

"Should I get Cas?" Azriel offers, eyes widening slightly as concern etches its way onto his features.

Your hand reaches out, stopping him before he can leave the room. "No."

He looks at you helplessly. He’s seen you cry before but Cassian was always there in those moments. Yes, Azriel regards you as a good friend–you’ve trained with him for many years alongside Cassian. He’d happily tend to your physical injuries because it was something he was capable of but the depth of your current pain is something he is unsure how to navigate. Something only Cassian uniquely understands.

"Okay," Azriel says slowly, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "What do you need?"

Frustration colors your attempt to wipe away the tears, and a sniffle escapes you. You’ve never felt so small, so fragile and as Azriel watches you break in front of him, realization dawns on him. Something must’ve happened between you and Cassian and his mouth parts to ask but you beat him to it.

"I need you to teach me how to swim." 

**

The next morning you can’t bring yourself to meet Cassian’s gaze. Images of him with Oliana flood your mind every time you cast a glance in his direction and the ache in your chest resurfaces. It’s irrational, you know. He’s not at fault for your feelings. After all, you’re just a friend to him. You have no claim to his affection, even though every fiber of your being yearns for it.

You are the problem.

When he reaches out, his hand lightly grasping your arm, you muster only a feeble greeting. You hear the concern in his voice as he asks what's wrong.

"Nothing," you reply, forcing a smile. "I'm just tired."

You feel the weight of his gaze burning into you as you head over to your group. He casts a glance toward Azriel in silent questioning but the Shadowsinger simply shakes his head. 

**

The sun bathes Summer’s training grounds in a warm glow and sweat clings to your skin as you show one of your soldiers a delicate maneuver with your sword that Illyrians favor during battle.

As your gaze lifts with your sword, you catch a glimpse of Cassian and Oliana sparring. Your chest tightens when you can’t help but notice their proximity to one another. The sweet sound of her laughter follows shortly after and the tightening in your chest is replaced with a burning fire.

“I don’t think I’m doing it right. Can you teach me again?”

“Of course.”

Cassian's gaze briefly meets yours, and a sudden rush of emotion courses through you. You’re quickly averting your eyes, attempting to feign disinterest. You tell yourself you're no longer watching them, but deep down, your mind is painting vivid pictures, imprinting scenes of Cassian with her. 

However, this time, it's not sadness that simmers within. It’s a burning anger and your siphons flare. Cassian is free to do whatever he pleases in his spare time but during training? When you’re working and glaringly right in front of you?

Olianna’s laughter rings out again, the sound mingling with the clash of steel. Another pang of envy stabs through your chest, sharper than the blade in your hand. 

“Like this?”

“Yeah, you got it, sweetheart.”

Your blood runs cold, sending shivers down your spine yet, there’s an undeniable blaze burning fiercely within your chest. It’s a possessive fire, a primal instinct screaming “mine” in the depths of your very being. Why does she get a sweet nickname and you a stupid one? Why is he so gentle in training her when he was harsh with you?

“That’s it,” you hiss under your breath, looking back at your group. “I’m going to show you how a fight is won.”

Tightening your grip on your sword, you nearly stomp your way to Cassian. Azriel’s head perks up from where he stands, eyes widening for a fleeting moment as he catches the glow of your siphons. “Y/n, what are–”

“Stay out of it!” You exclaim, pointing your sword at him. The sharp blade teases at his throat and he falters. His shadows whisper to him in warning and he holds his hands up in surrender, catching something flickering in your eyes.

Cassian and Oliana turn their heads at the commotion. She instinctively takes a step behind Cassian and your jaw clenches at the sight. He doesn’t seem to notice it though, attention solely focused on you.

 “What’s the matter, bibble?”

 You point your sword at him. “You.”

“Me?” He responds, a bewildered expression crossing his face. However, he remains unfazed as your sword points directly at his chest. 

“You’ve gone soft, General.” you tell him, inclining your head towards Oliana and you can’t bring yourself to care if your emotions seep out. The envy is coursing through you like an unrelenting fire. “How is she to hone in her skills when she spends most of her training laughing and batting her pretty eyelashes at you?”

Cassian lets out a chuckle. It’s been years since you’ve referred to him by his title. His hazel eyes take you in, sparkling at you with something you can’t discern. He can read the challenge in your eyes and when he finally spares a glance to the female behind him, he turns back to you. His fingers grasp at your blade carefully, lowering your sword so he can take a step forward. 

“She’s not ready to be challenged.”

You smirk at him, standing your ground. “A soldier is never fully prepared for battle.”

Cassian takes another step forward and though your sword lowers further, your grip on the hilt tightens. “And a General knows when it’s best for their soldiers to refrain from entering the battlefield.”

You take pleasure in the way Oliana huffs out indignantly from behind him.

You arch an eyebrow at him in challenge. Deep down, you’re aware nothing good is going to come from this but your Illyrian blood craves an outlet for the pent-up emotions that have been brewing for many years. 

“You fight me then,” you demand and you can feel the simmering fire between you intensifying. You welcome it, almost seeking the chaos it promises. "And don't you dare go soft on me."

His pupils flare and a sly smirk curls upon his lips. “I don’t think you can handle me.”

“Lay it all on me.”

**

Two blood rubies, sinister in their crimson glow, glisten back at you, creating a dance of hues that pulse and flicker with an inner fire. One for Cassian. One for you. Your heart sinks to your stomach and you want to cry.

This is all your doing. Your fault. 

Cassian, however, does not regard the rubies sent from the Summer Court with the same gravity. "Might as well put these beauties to use. I’m sure it would look stunning on a necklace. Maybe, even a ring,” he quips as he picks his up, hazel eyes sparkling with mirth.

You immediately sense that nothing good is going to come from this–the same way you did before the two of you accidentally destroyed a building. He turns to you and gets down on one knee. There’s a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he looks up at you.

“Marry me?" 

A rush of heat floods your face, and your eyes instinctively seek out Rhysand, finding him far from amused. He's fuming with a quiet rage, his gaze icy and piercing. You quickly avert your eyes, shifting your attention back to the Illyrian male now kneeling before you. You nudge his knee with your leg, ignoring the twinge of hurt at the expense of his joke.

"Get up, Cas.”

"Say yes.”

"Get up.”

“You think this is funny??”

You flinch at the sharpness of Rhysand’s tone and Cassian stands with a sigh. His hand brushes against yours but you don’t dare take it. You don’t deserve it. It’s only been hours since your abrupt return from Summer–since your heated fight sent an entire building crumbling into rubble. If Azriel hadn’t used his shadows to return you home immediately after, you’re not sure you’d be alive right now.

“I’m so sorry, Rhys,” you say,  lowering your head and Rhysand’s gaze softens at the nervous fidgeting of your hands. “It’s all my fault.” 

“No, it’s mine.” Cassian steps forward, hand resting on your waist to gently push you back behind him as he takes full responsibility. “I got caught up in the heat of the moment.”

“Cas, I’m the one who challenged you.”

He ignores you. “It was my blast that sent that building, as weak as it already was, to crumble down.”

Rhysand lets out a deep sigh. He leans back into his seat, fingers rubbing at his forehead at the images Azriel provides. He finds that you both are equally at fault. They’re complete wreck less idiots,  Rhysand groans into the Shadowsinger’s mind.

I know.  There’s a hint of amusement in Azriel’s response.

Running a hand down his face in exhaustion, Rhysand looks at both you and Cassian. 

You stand there, still behind Cassian, anxious as you await your impending punishment and he can literally hear your mind racing without having to intrude. Meanwhile, Cassian, seemingly unfazed, hums a carefree tune to himself, earning an incredulous glance from you. 

“Well I can kiss my alliance with the Summer Court goodbye but I will not have a High Lord from another court seeking vengeance on two of my closest friends. You each are going to write your most heartfelt apologies to Nostrus, beg if you must, and let us all pray to the Cauldron that he finds it in his heart to forgive you.”

Parchment, ink and quills appear at the desk before you. With a flick of his wrist, Rhysand uses his magic to bring forth two chairs, gesturing for you and Cassian to sit. “You two are not allowed to leave this room until those letters are finished.”

Rhysand then turns to Azriel. “I need you to watch them. Make sure they don’t destroy any of my buildings.”

A low, almost melodramatic groan escapes Azriel’s lips. “Why do I always have to babysit them?”

“Azriel.”

“Fine.”

Once Rhysand leaves, you slump into one of the chairs with a small sigh of relief. You pick up a quill, dipping it in ink and stare at the blank parchment. Cassian does the same. Azriel picks up a book from one of the shelves. He then seats himself at Rhysand’s chair, right across from you both.

“Please make this quick,” his voice almost pleads, eyes darting between you both.

“You write it for me then.” Cassian rips a piece of paper, crumbling it into a tiny ball before flicking it at his friend. Azriel rolls his eyes, his loyal shadows catching the piece of paper midair and sending it back to Cassian, hitting his forehead with a tiny “whoosh.”

Your eyebrows furrow in an attempt to focus, all the while trying to ignore the distracting bounce of Cassian's leg. Slowly but surely, you’re scribbling words onto the parchment and before you know it, you’re crafting the most sincere apology to High Lord Nostrus. 

Cassian picks up on your deep concentration. He leans in closer, warm breath tickling your ear. “Whatcha writing there, bibble?”

“An apology,” you respond dryly, shooting him a sideways glance. You take note that his paper is still blank. “Something you should be doing too if you want us to make it to dinner.”

“I am. I’m just brainstorming,” he retorts in a ‘duh’ tone. “Let me see yours!”

You’re sliding your parchment away from his prying eyes. “No. Use your own brain!”

Ever the persistent one, Cassian leans in even closer, his head now practically resting on your shoulder as your hands hover over your paper, careful not to smear the fresh ink. “Come on, just a peek. I promise not to steal your most heartfelt words.”

With an exasperated sigh, you relent, allowing him a quick glimpse. His eyes are skimming through the words with an appreciative tilt of his head. “I like it. But maybe add a bit more details and drama, you know? Tug at his heartstrings a little more, he seemed to like you a lot.”

“We’re not trying to craft a masterpiece to win an award, Cassian,” you hiss at him, snatching your letter away from him.

“But you are trying to free yourself of a death sentence.” Azriel remarks, peering over his book at you as he reminds you that receiving a blood ruby from the Summer Court is not something to be taken lightly.

“See? Az gets it.” Cassian chuckles.

“Shut up and get to writing.” Azriel snaps at the busybody beside you, a stern edge in his tone.

“Yes, sir!”

**

Fortunately, the three of you arrive just in time for dinner. Unfortunately, the predominant topic at the table centers around the destruction of the building in the Summer Court. Rhysand, having taken the time to cool down, is noticeably calmer. While he remains upset that you and Cassian veered off course from your assigned mission, there's also a hint of happiness in having his friends back home and safe.

Cassian casually drapes his arm over the back of your chair, and the room is filled with the melody of his laughter in response to something Mor said. Something you should’ve caught as you’re seated right across from her but it’s the rich scent of sandalwood that captivates all your senses, causing your stomach to flutter. You barely manage to swallow your food without choking–a fact not lost on Azriel. He, however, chooses not to comment, sparing you from further embarrassment and grinning into his glass of wine instead.

 Rhysand glares at Mor and you get a sense of what had been said when he says: “Please don’t encourage these architects of chaos.”

You groan, leaning back into your seat. The regret is instant as the edge of your wing brushes against Cassian’s arm. It sends a slight shiver down your spine and you’re mustering all your strength to keep it from causing your sensitive wings to twitch. You’re down bad.

“Can we please talk about something else?”

“Sure, but before we do…” Amren begins, a devious smile playing on her lips as she glances at you from across the table. “Can I keep the rubies?”

“Yeah and you can even keep the threat that comes with it too.”

The rest of dinner is, for the most part, uneventful. Rhysand excuses himself early to finish on some paperwork and before he leaves, he lets you and Cassian know that High Lord Nostrus should be receiving your written apologies by tomorrow morning. Amren leaves shortly after, eager to return to the quiet peace of her home. Just in time, too, as she manages to avoid a pointless argument between Cassian and Azriel over who has the best technique in training.

Not wanting to be dragged into it, you rise from your seat, grabbing a hold of the two remaining unopened wine bottles that Rhysand forgot to take back with him. You turn to Mor and you laugh when you don’t even have to say anything. She’s already standing from her seat, gesturing for you to lead the way.

The two of you end up in one of the living rooms and you’re touched when you find that the sentient house has a delicious assortment of desserts waiting for you on the coffee table. You sink into the comfort of the couch, feeling like you’re sitting on a cloud. Mor seats herself beside you, doing the honors of pouring you a glass of wine.

It doesn’t take long before the two of you are immersed into the dirtiest of gossip and catch up with one another. You move to pour yourself another glass only to find the second wine bottle empty, so you set your empty glass down on the coffee table. Leaning back into the comfort of the plush couch, you let out a sigh.

“I don’t know what he’s done to me,” you confess quietly, exhaustion taking over your features. “I’ve known him for years and all of sudden, I’m a possessive jealous mess? It doesn’t make sense to me.”

Mor raises a brow, as if it makes perfect sense to her. She then hums in contemplation, swirling the last drops of wine in her glass. “Maybe we should go out, have some fun, find a little distraction for you.”

“Or you can tell Cassian how you feel.”

The deep voice startles you both, causing Mor to gasp. Her glass falls from her grasps as Azriel emerges from the shadows. She regards the small specks of red tainting the white carpet with a frown before lifting her gaze to scowl at the Shadowsinger while you shoot him a mortified look.

“How dare you give her a reasonable option?” Mor chides him, waving her hands dramatically in the air.

“Stop with that nonsense, Az,” you say, a slight slur to your words. A frown settles onto your face, heart aching as your mind forces you to think of Cassian and Olianna. “He doesn’t feel the same for me as I do for him. I’ll only ruin our friendship if I do.”

Azriel’s eyes travel throughout the room. He takes in the empty bottles of wine, your hazy eyes and Mor’s flushed face. He looks like he wants to tell you something, on the verge of sharing a secret. Yet, whatever words linger on the tip of his tongue remain unspoken. He decides it’s best to turn around and leave, the inked wing on his arm burning further into his skin.

“Fine but don’t call me for help when you destroy another building.”

"Oh, fuck you."

He doesn't bother to turn around as he returns the gesture, a small chuckle escaping from him as he disappears into his shadows.

“So,” you turn back to Mor. “How about that distraction?” 

**

“By the Cauldron, you look absolutely ravishing.” Mor whistles, stepping back to appreciate her work and as you look at your reflection in the mirror, you can’t help but agree.

After asking Rhysand to fly you both down, Mor winnowed you both to the townhouse, where she kept most of her going out clothes as it was a shorter distance to Rita’s. Insisting on glamming you up, she took charge of your hair and makeup, even providing you with a choice from her wardrobe. Considering the wings, your options were limited, but your gaze was drawn to a striking red satin dress. It had an alluring lace-up open back and a daring slit hem.

After scouring the dance floor for an hour from your seat at the bar, you finally find someone who catches your interest and as you approach him, you’re happy to find that he isn't intimidated by the sight of your wings. Despite your determination to keep a low profile in Velaris, it becomes challenging to go unnoticed when your friends all possess such great reputations, especially when Cassian is by your side. Mor wishes you good luck, sending you a wink as you depart from her side. 

The male, who is named Felix, slings an arm around your waist, pulling you flush to him as you dance and you find yourself missing the scent of sandalwood immensely. He grins at you, intentions as clear as yours. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, drinking you under the neon lights of Rita’s. He licks his lips and glances over at your wings. “I’ve heard Illyrians can be very sensitive when it comes to their wings. Can I touch?”

Your mind immediately brings an image forward, of your wings being softly caressed, and heat pools down to your stomach. But in your head, it’s not the male in front of you. It’s Cassian’s.  

“Don’t you dare fucking touch her!”

By the Cauldron, your mind is playing tricks on you as you can even hear his voice too.

You feel the loss of warmth from the male and you open your eyes just in time to see Felix sent stumbling to the floor. Your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you. Cassian is standing in front of you, chest heaving. The people who had stopped to stare quickly avert their gazes at his heated stare.

Felix gets up to his feet. He doesn’t even spare you a glance or a word as he disappears into the crowd. You’re immediately leaving the dance floor, not bothering to grab your coat before you exit the club with Cassian hot on your heels.

You pivot and Cassian nearly bumps into you. “What the fuck Cassian?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, returning your glare. “What the fuck?”

“Why are you even here?”

“I don’t know. Something didn't feel right." Cassian confesses, placing a hand over his chest as if to settle a pain.

You turn back around, knowing the towering Illyrian male was already planning to follow you. You begin to make your way to your place–a small apartment that Rhysand had gifted you on your first solstice in Velaris. You seldom used it, preferring to stay at either the house of wind or townhouse, but Rhysand insisted you have a place of your own in case you ever need space.

“And that gave you the right to ruin my night?” you huff over your shoulder.

“Ruin your night? I just saved you!”

“From what?” You laugh with sarcasm, grateful that the walk from your apartment and Rita’s was short. Pulling your key out from your bra, you hastily unlock your door.  “An orgasm? Gee, thanks. Love you for that,” and then under your breath mutter: “I didn’t stop you from yours in Summer.”

As soon as you step through your door, you turn and shut it behind you. A boot stops you from doing so and Cassian pushes against you and the door, allowing himself in. “What are you talking about?”

“You mean to tell me nothing happened between you and Olianna?”

“Yes, because nothing happened! She asked me to help her with a move after dinner so I did and…” His voice trails off, and then a heavy silence descends as realization washes over him. He looks at you, and you instinctively avert your gaze.

Without bothering to slip off your heels, you dart straight to your room, desperate to put as much distance between the two of you. You’re not ready to have this conversation. Relief mingles with embarrassment, both emotions flooding you and sending blood rushing to your face. But Cassian is determined. He follows after you.

“Were you jealous?”

Arms crossed over your chest, you keep your back to him, wings curled around you. “No.”

Cassian chuckles, and before you know it, he's spinning you around to face him. One hand presses against your lower back, the other at your face. A smirk plays on his lips as he reads the defiant expression on your face. He knows you’re lying.

“You were jealous.”

“So were you,” you manage to say back.

Cassian hums in what can only be agreement. A thumb reaches out to brush your lower lip, the same way he did your first night in Summer, and then he’s replacing his thumb with his lips. The way he wanted to that night. His kiss is anything but gentle. It’s pure heated desire–one that has been simmering for years. You kiss him back, matching his urgency and he groans, allowing both of his hands to cup your face as his lips mold perfectly against yours.

He pulls away, his hands still cradling your face as his gaze burns into yours. “You want to orgasm tonight? I can give it to you.”

A thrill runs down your spine and your wings shudder. You should push him away. Cassian is your friend. A friend… who is offering to give you an orgasm with a very promising look at this very moment. Though your heart tells you not to, that you might end up hurt after this, there’s that singing in your chest again. Give in.

“You sound so confident.”

His eyes darken as his legs push against yours, walking you both to your bed. The back of your knees meet your bed and you give in, allowing yourself to fall onto the soft sheets behind you. You land on your elbows and push yourself even further up on your bed until your back meets your headrest.

“Don’t test me, baby,” he purrs, watching the way your thighs clench in response to the new nickname. It makes his cock harden in his pants. “I can have you screaming all night long.”

“Lay it all on me,” you reply, heart be damned.

Cassian wastes no time in stripping himself of his clothes, lust filled eyes fixated on you. His hard cock springs free and your eyes widen because yes, you’ve seen him before but not like this. Not when he’s hard and leaking and it’s all for you. He pumps himself, licking his lips, as your arousal floods his senses before easing himself onto the bed.

He slips your heels off and discards them. His hands caress their way up your legs and the roughness of his hands, weathered by many battles and challenges, feels heavenly against you. As his hands make their way higher, they begin kneading at the soft flesh of your thighs, dragging your dress up along with his movements. He groans at the thin lace that greets him, pressing his lips against your clothed core.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

“Well, you did catch me in the middle of something promising earlier…”

Cassian growls at your words, a wave of possessiveness taking over him. “Yeah? Well, by the time I’m done with you, it will be my cum dripping out of this pretty pussy.”

He’s tugging at your underwear, hastily dragging it down your legs. With a devious smirk, he grasps your hands and places them over his hair. “Hold on tight, baby.”

It’s the only warning he gives you before diving right in and setting you alight with his mouth. His nose brushes against your clit as he begins to fuck you with his tongue. “Do you know how often I thought of this? Of tasting you.”

You want to tell him you’ve thought of this too but you’re too lost in the pleasure of his mouth. All you can do is moan and it spurs him on, urging him to bring you closer to your release.  “I can only imagine how good I’ll feel inside you.”

His words, a promise of what is to come, is your undoing. You’re squirming beneath him, back arching off the bed as you thread your fingers through his hair. A string of curses leaves your lips when he presses multiple kisses to your clit, overwhelming you in such a delightful way.

Cassian pulls away, mouth glistening with your release as he grins and your heart flutters. He crawls his way up your body, replacing his tongue with his fingers, reveling in the way they easily slide in. His lips slot over yours in a sloppy and heated kiss. When he slips another finger into you, you’re moaning into his mouth. His tongue dances with yours, wrestling for dominance that you ardently submit to.

“Please, Cassian,” you’re begging when his lips leave yours and his cock twitches at the pretty sounds that follow after. Another wave of white hot pleasure crashes over you and he groans, loving the way you're clenching so tightly around his fingers. “I need you.”

Cassian slips his fingers out of you, placing his hands at your hips to flip the both of you over. He adjusts you to straddle his lap, gaze burning into you with need. “Show me.”

“But let’s get rid of this first.” His fingers toy with the slit of your dress. “I need to see all of you.”

You nod, fingers reaching behind to undo the laces of your dress. The sound of fabric ripping reaches your ears before you can undo the first knot and cool air caresses against the newly exposed skin. 

“Cassian!”

“That’s my name, baby,” he grins at you, expertly unclasping your bra and throwing it behind you along with the torn dress.

“That wasn’t my dre–oh.” Your protest dies at your throat, eyes fluttering shut as he takes your breasts in his hands, kneading the soft flesh and pressing them together. The torn dress you borrowed from Mor is long forgotten, stored away in the back of your mind. The same way you stored away all your reservations. The desire that’s been consuming you is too much for you to think through reasonably so you succumb completely into it, knowing there will be consequences to deal with later.

**

It’s almost embarrassing how much Cassian has thought about this, especially after the tease you gave him in Summer. His desires had gone beyond wanting to kiss you that night. He wanted to see, feel and taste every part of you. To hear you moaning and screaming just for him. Now, that you’re completely bare before him, he can look, feel and taste all he wants. And he plans to bask in every second of your warmth.

 “So fucking beautiful,” he breathes, leaning in to take a breast into his mouth, tongue swirling around your hardening nipple with burning hunger. Your hands find purchase in his hair again as you arch yourself further, grinding against him. Lewd moans escape from both of you when the tip of his cock brushes against your sensitive clit. Cassian dives for your neck next, pressing hot open mouthed kisses everywhere he can. 

“Come on, baby girl. Show me how much you need me and ride me.”

Aligning yourself with him, you slowly sink down onto his cock, savoring the burn from the stretch. His fingers run up and down your sides before settling onto your hips. Eyes fluttering shut at the sheer intensity of your warmth, he can’t help but thrust up into you, fully sheathing himself inside you. His head tilts back when you begin to move and he releases a deep groan.

It’s when your thighs start to tremble and wings flare out that he takes over. He hugs you tightly, arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand rubs at your clit. While he pants and groans against your neck, you’re crying and screaming out his name. He plants his feet on the bed and thrusts ruthlessly up into you over and over again until you both reach your high, wings flaring out. 

**

As Cassian stirs in bed, a cool emptiness greets him, replacing the warmth he expected. Blinking his eyes open, he finds the spot beside him empty. You're gone. The lingering trace of your sweet scent is the only evidence of what transpired between you both. Fuck. Apprehension weighs down on his mind in your absence, threatening to sicken his stomach. He needs to talk to you. 

After freshening up and slipping into the spare clothes he keeps at your place, his determination to find you takes hold. It's as if he can sense the storm of emotions within you—guilt, anxiety, and fear. There’s an inkling in his mind as to where you are. He knows you so well. A soft smile graces his lips when he spots you on the training grounds of the house of wind, unleashing powerful strikes on a punching bag.

Your hair is gathered into a carefree bun, and today, you've traded your usual leathers for leggings and a sports bra. You’re a vision of strength and beauty and as loose strands of your hair dance in the breeze, Cassian finds himself lost in the realization of just how deeply in love with you he is. 

He lands softly, fighting the urge to frown when he notices the immediate tension in your body from his presence. He hesitates, his throat bobbing as he looks at you, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "Can we—"

"No, let me talk first," you interrupt with a deep sigh as you turn to face him.

"But I had something to say first," he insists with a slight shake of his head.

“I have something more important to say."

Cassian crosses his arms, challenging your claim. "My something is more important than your something."

“I love you.”

The words hang in the air and as the weight of your confession sinks in, a wave of fear grips you. You're certain you've just shattered any hopes of a remaining friendship with him. Because after last night, there's no way you can keep going on as a friend when you want to be so much more. The silence becomes maddening, and suddenly, you can't hold it any longer.

“I love you so much it hurts,” you admit with a trembling breath, tears welling in your eyes. “Because I want your every smile, your every laugh, but above all, I want your heart and–and I’m sorry for–”

“Oh, y/n,” Cassian interrupts with a chuckle.

The sound makes you go weak and you’re absolutely mortified. He rarely ever calls you by your name. He’s about to break your heart, the very thing you’ve been fearing since the realization of your feelings. The urge to run away grips you, but your feet remain planted. You lack the strength to escape the moment. Tears flow freely down your face, and your wings sag behind you, unable to bear the weight of vulnerability.

“You’ve had my heart from the start.”

Slowly, you lift your gaze. Hazel eyes bore into yours, the golden flecks glimmering at you. “What?”

He steps closer to you until he's standing right in front of you. His hands cradle your face as he wipes at your tears. “I’ve loved you for years. I thought I made it pretty obvious, especially after last night.”

“Not obvious enough,” you remark with a huff but there’s a playful and affectionate undertone in your voice.

“I could remind you again?”

"Please."

A radiant smile breaks onto Cassian’s face, and the warmth in his eyes washes away any doubt that may have lingered in your heart. Something within you flutters madly against your ribs. All these years…the teasing, the flirting, the lingering touches. They all meant something to him, the same way it did for you. You’ve loved him and he loved you back. So many years wasted, yearning and pining for one another. As you gaze into each other’s eyes, so many unspoken words are said and there’s a shared understanding that you’re not wasting another moment.

**

Rhysand raises his cup of coffee to his lips, the rich aroma swirling around him as he catches a glimpse of Cassian, carrying you over his shoulder, with an eagerness he’s familiar with. He then glances over the rim of his mug at Azriel, seated across from him at the breakfast table.

"Do you think they know?"

Azriel snorts in response. "Doubt it. I think you should tell them."

“No.” Rhysand's lips curve into a smirk. "Let's see how long it takes them to realize that their mating bond has snapped into place."

“We should probably head out.”

“Good idea,” Rhysand replies with a nod of his head.

In the blink of an eye, the sentient house packs the remnants of their breakfast for them to enjoy elsewhere. Without a moment's delay, they make their way to one of the balconies. Their wings gracefully unfurl behind them, catching the morning sunlight that bathes them in a golden glow.

As they soar away, you and Cassian remain blissfully unaware of the invisible thread that has silently bound your souls together for years.

tagging: @historiaxvanserra

a/n: I always wanted to write a fic where a mating bond has snapped but neither of them have a clue because they already loved each other, might be a bit unrealistic but 🤷‍♀️ I came across this bibble meme while writing this and it reminded me of both reader and Cas in some aspects. Since I couldn't think of an embarrassing nickname, I went with Bibble and so now the cute little character is canon in Prythian in this lol.

if you want more background info on reader and cas: click here

Other things that I included in this part:

This scene from Vampire Diaries.

also, this tiktok.

[edenianprincess]

INTRO !!      ❤︎ ׄ                                               Dialogues Intros .ᐟ

Dialogues intros about characters’ relationships with a gender neutral!reader. Characters chosen are Reptile, Liu Kang, Mileena and Kung Lao. Content warning: Slight suggestive theme in Kung Lao’s and one in Mileena. Please, respond to the poll at the end!

Syzoth ! Mirror dialogues You: There's no way I have a clone. You: I'm here to bring Reptile back to Shang Tsung.

You: So, you’re the shape shifter? You: It was difficult to accept my two forms, but Syzoth helped me.

Reptile: How can you move on from your dead family so easily? Reptile: Stop plaguing my mind! I have to fight these thoughts.

Syzoth ! At each other

You: Do you think you can beat me without using your other form? Reptile: With you? I don’t think I can contain the beast within me.

You: Why is your tail wiggling? Reptile: I don't know what are you talking about, my dear.

You: Do you need my aid to end the Zaterrans' conspiracy? Reptile: I appreciate the thought, but only I can infiltrate them.

Reptile: Is this warm bloods’ way of courting? You: No, I just want to spend time with you.

Reptile: Zaterra isn’t a place for you to visit. You: I want to visit your bullies not the place.

Reptile: If I had known I was going to fight you, I would have been more worried. You: By you hurting me or because you know I’m going to win?

Syzoth ! With other characters

General Shao: A warm blood and a Zaterran? How amusing. Reptile: Do you feel envy because nobody wants you, General?

You: I’ll gift your head to Syzoth. Shang Tsung: If it weren’t for me, he would still be with his wife.

Shang Tsung: I see that you have a new partner, if only I- Reptile: You will die before threatening me again!

You: Thank you for Syzoth’s promotion, Empress. Mileena: Now, can you stop harassing me with that?

Johnny: Imagine a movie about you and Y/n, a Beauty and the Beast type of story. Reptile: What is this story about, Johnny?

Kenshi: You kiss a guy who eats bugs? You: Never after dinner.

Kung Lao: No other’s skills will impress you more than mine. Reptile: Sorry, Kung Lao, but I do not think you can beat Y/n on that.

Kung Lao: Syzoth told me that I wouldn’t be able to beat you in a fight. You: And still you didn’t listen?

Liu Kang ! Mirror dialogues

You: You’re not with Liu Kang in your timeline? You: His heart is only dedicated to Kitana.

You: For Liu Kang’s sake! Who are you? You: You should go ask him.

Liu Kang: We can’t both exist in a singular timeline. Liu Kang: Y/n would beg to differ.

Liu Kang ! At each other

You: I’m going to make you fall on your knees, this time. Liu Kang: I have no doubt about this, dearest.

You: You know you can’t blame yourself for every tragedy. Liu Kang: It still hurts me when they happen.

You: How am I supposed to win against you? Liu Kang: By exploiting my weaknesses, you know them very well.

Liu Kang: There's no need to push yourself beyond your limits. You: Just one more round, okay?

Liu Kang: You shall be rewarded after this fight. You: Is it what I have in mind?

Liu Kang: We need to be prepared if we interfere with another timeline again. You: No need to hide that you want to spend some time together.

Liu Kang ! With other characters

Geras: Your relationship with Y/n was unexpected. Liu Kang: Even I couldn’t help but fall for their charms.

You: C’mon Geras, you know him more than me. Geras: I do not know what Liu Kang wants for his birthday.

Kitana: I didn’t think of you wanting someone after centuries of being alone. Liu Kang: Love can change greatly one’s perspective.

Kitana: Liu Kang is a very mysterious man. You: Makes him hot, doesn’t it?

General Shao: Your love for weaklings like your champions and partner is utterly pathetic. Liu Kang: Your lack of strong bonds is why you lose every time.

Shang Tsung: How can you be so sure Liu Kang isn’t manipulating you for his own interest? You: You mean, just like what you’re doing right now?

Johnny: A demi-God? Damn, Y/n hit the jackpot. Liu Kang: I would say I am the one who did.

Kung Lao: You’re wayyyyy out of Lord Liu Kang’s league. You: Are you somehow jealous?

Mileena ! Mirror dialogues

You: Your Mileena is a clone? You: If you mean an abomination then yes.

You: I’ll kill you slowly then I’ll replace you. You: You won’t infiltrate the court again, Shang Tsung!

Mileena: I can spoil Y/n more than you. Mileena: Spoil them with your death!

Mileena ! At each other

You: You're the strongest princess l've ever seen. Mileena: Are you implying you have met others?

You: What a killer smile you have. Mileena: All the better to kiss you with.

You: Your mother won’t let you a moment to breath. Mileena: That’s why I’m happy when I’m with you.

Mileena: Urg.. Why do we have to fight more? You: We can take this fight somewhere else if you wish.

Mileena: I don’t want to hurt you if I lose control. You: You won’t, I know you can control it.

Mileena: You will fall head over heels for me again! You: Challenge accepted.

Mileena ! With other characters

Kitana: I know you love them, but you need to think of your imperial duties first. Mileena: I can handle more things at once than you think.

Kitana: Tarkat is taking over my sister more and more. You: We will fight it together with her.

Sindel: Did you think I wouldn't know about you sneaking out with Y/n? Mileena: These treacherous guards, I'll have their heads!

You: Is this fight necessary, Empress? Sindel: To test if you're worth my daughter.

Mileena: I entrust you for the security of the royal wedding. Li Mei: As Sun Do's First Constable and a friend, I can’t feel more honored.

Li Mei: You must be ready to protect the Empress. You: Are you doubting me, Li Mei?

Baraka: Don’t let your lover be inflicted with Tarkat. Mileena: Never in my life will I let them be inflicted with this pain!

General Shao: I’ll take rightfully the throne from Mileena. You: You can steal the throne but, you can’t steal her ruling competence.

Kung Lao ! Mirror dialogues

You: Is this a nightmare? You: No, this is Kung Lao’s dream.

You: So your Kung Lao disappeared just in a snap? You: You can say that.. yes.

Kung Lao: The man who wins gets to date Y/n. Kung Lao: Can’t we let them choose? Or are you afraid because I’m the most handsome?

Kung Lao ! At each other

You: Someone should put you in your place. Kung Lao: I wouldn’t mind, but only if you’re the one doing it.

You: You need to train harder if you want to be the champion. Kung Lao: If it means that I’ll win with you below me, then I agree.

You: Is this a date? Kung Lao: Only if you wish it to be.

Kung Lao: Don’t get too distracted by my face while fighting. You: It will be my first target.

Kung Lao: So, what should we dare? You: I’m sure you have plenty of ideas.

Kung Lao: Don’t you feel a certain tension between us? You: I would, if it weren’t for the monks watching us.

Kung Lao ! With other characters

Kung Lao: Told you, I’ll get them for a date. Raiden: I couldn’t be happier for you.

You: You got a crush on Outworld’s Princess and you didn’t tell me! Raiden: Kung Lao told my secret to everyone, didn’t he.

Raiden: The monks said you shouldn't let your dating life distract you from training. Kung Lao: Pff.. What do they know about love?

Sub-Zero: Your weak lover would have died if I didn't hold back. You: Call him weak all you want, but at least he can admit defeat without whining.

Kung Lao: Y/n is watching us, time to show them what I can do. Johnny: It’s going to be hilarious when I beat you.

You: Do you think Kung Lao will one day become champion? Liu Kang: If he continues to do well, plus with you by his side, I have no doubts.

Kenshi: I can’t believe there is someone that you love more than yourself. Kung Lao: If you were to meet them, you’d understand.

Reptile: Kung Lao wanted me to scare you off with my invisibility. You: He probably thought that I’d jump into his arms and ask for his protection.

‘𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝓔𝐍𝐃  Please don’t copy/translate and don’t reblog if you’re a yand3r3 blog/reblog account, or you’ll be blocked. Besides that, likes/reblogs/comments are appreciated.  For those who don’t get the second mirror dialogue for Kung Lao, he died in the previous timeline by getting his neck snapped.

[vivwritesfics]

Saying Goodbye

This is another one for the horse girls. A social media AU dealing with Y/N losing her horse and the grief that follows. Based on my recent life tragedy where I found out my old horse died at just 14 years old. It's been hard and is manifesting in my thoughts in the weirdest ways

Masterlist

ynlnsj

liked by username, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 55,683 others

ynlnsj fly high Gismo 21.11.23

view all 358 comments

username Aw I'm so sorry for your loss

username thoughts and prayers ❤❤

charles_leclerc I'm so sorry, Y/N. I'm glad I got to meet him when I did ynlnsj he loved his uncle charlie ♥

landonorris

liked by ynlnsj, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 552,345 others

landonorris goodbye Gis, you'll never know how missed you'll be

view all 2,356 comments

oscarpiastri thinking of you and Y/N ❤❤

maxverstappen1 😥🧡

*two weeks later*

ynlnsj

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 63,217 others

ynlnsj missing you extra today, Gis 💖💖💖 He used to come with Sooty and I when we'd go out hacking. Today was the first time I took Sooty out on his own and it was strange for both of us

view all 456 comments

landonorris hate seeing his empty stable now

mclaren we're all here for you at McLaren

landonorris

liked by ynlnsj, maxverstappen1, username and 468,745 others

landonorris Gis

view all 1,346 comments

ynlnsj he loved you lan 💕

*two months later*

ynlnsj

liked by landonorris, username, charles_leclerc, and 53,292 others

y/nlnsj ever since I bought Sooty home, he's had another horse with him. When he lost Gismo, he really struggled. He wasn't eating, he was pacing in his stable and jumping out of the fields. We got the vets out and they determined nothing was wrong with him, physically, he was just lonely. So, I bought my horse a horse. I'd like you all to meet Hero! ❣❣

view all 547 comments

landonorris welcome to the norris family, hero

landonorris

liked by ynlnsj, maxverstappen1, username and 478,145 others

landonorris just a big dog, right?

view all 2,453 comments

ynlnsj you're his favourite person 💓💓

[ioveartfilm]

I KNOW YOU

Summary In your unwavering conviction, you didn't dismiss any notion of their absence. How could anyone deem you mad when their presence is undeniable, standing clearly before your eyes?

꒰ঌ𓊿໒꒱ Genre Melodrama, Romance.

꒰ঌ𓊿໒꒱ Additional Content Mature Content, Dark Themes, Murder, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Substance Abuse, Alcoholism, Miscarriages, Different Timelines, Arranged Marriage, Heartbreak, Tragedy, Bittersweet Ending.

꒰ঌ𓊿໒꒱ Pairing Jjk x Fem! Reader ┊ Masterlist

(⠀ྀི❤︎ )⠀𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐄𝐔𝐑 𓉣 ⠀ | ( 𐂂 ) 𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐑É𝐒𝐎𝐑 𒈔ٍ⃛

╰ ❝𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓❞ ( 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 )

꒰ྀི✶꒱ The widower, ensconced in the depths of grief, is immortalized within a painting of profound sorrow. Captured in this somber canvas, is a man with golden locks and eyes laden with unbearable pain, who remains inert in his chair, crystalline vessel of spirits clasped within his grasp. The narrative encircling this evocative opus is steeped in heartrending tragedy. It is said that the man in the painting himself created it, expressing his soul-crushing anguish through his artistry. How could one resist being moved to the marrow by such a scene? “The Widower's Lament,” the title itself reverberates with the resounding echoes of his bereavement. The loss of his cherished wife left him empty, his future erased, for she was the very essence of his being. Can a man ever bear the weight of such guilt, recognizing himself as the unwitting architect of his wife's untimely passing?

“Are you certain this procedure will prove effective?” the man with golden locks queried his confidant.

“Indeed, I assure you. Numerous husbands resort to this method on their spouses. Your wife appeared to be plagued by anxiety and depression, correct? This treatment is tailored for such conditions. We are bestowing a great favor upon our wives.”

It was his final recourse; you were beyond control. With this method, perhaps you can finally regain your senses.

“Are you insane?” you exclaimed, your voice trembling with indignation at your husband's proposal. “You would allow them to mess around with my head?”

“You are out of control. I am doing this for your own good” he replied, his tone flat and unyielding.

You scoffed bitterly, “For my own good? I have just lost our child. Can't you see that I am in mourning?”

At this, the other man rose abruptly from his chair, nearly overturning it in his haste. “Yes, but how long will this period of grief endure? You are beginning to act unhinged, and I fear for your sanity. This treatment could restore your peace of mind and your equilibrium. Don’t you see? I’m desperate to see you well again, to reclaim some semblance of normalcy in our lives.” You could see the strain etched on his face, the furrow in his brow, the tight line of his lips. Yet, his lack of understanding only deepened your despair.

“You think this will help me? Subjecting me to such invasive procedures? You believe this is the solution to my grief?” You paused, your voice breaking. “You can't just rush grief, why can't you understand?”

He sighed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the situation. “I'm not going to discuss this anymore. My decision is final.”

The room fell silent, the tension palpable as you both stood on the precipice of an uncertain future.

“Very well. But do not come to regret this later, once the consequences have unfolded.”

He was cautioned, not just once, but repeatedly. How could he even lay claim to the title of a man? He is naught but a wretch, who chose to consign his wife to such abominable treatment instead of supporting her in her time of mourning. Now, you existed as a mere semblance of your former self, a hollow echo of the vibrant spirit you once embodied. He, the responsible for this agony, this torment, had wrought your destruction. He had shattered the woman he professed to love. Love? Ha! If his love were genuine, he would have spared you this ordeal, shielded you from such affliction. Who can fathom the depths of the horrors you endured? What's the use of crying, and pleading? He has done this to you, and there was no way back.

Nanami Kento, a figure held in high regard by multitudes, seemingly possessed of all, enjoying the pinnacle of success. An ideal occupation, a revered social circle, a perfect-flawless life. But what good is such a life when you're not truly present in it?

He clasps your hand delicately in his own, bestowing tender kisses upon its back. “My dear you look radiant today.” You were there, yet not wholly so. No amount of his tears or prayers could ever resurrect you to the person you once were.

He vividly recalls the day he sought your hand, a memory etched in his mind like a scene from a dream. You adorned a resplendent white floral gown, the evening breeze whimsically lifting its delicate folds as if in playful homage to your enchanting presence. You, a vision of unparalleled beauty, radiated grace and allure that seemed otherworldly. How could he, in his folly, shatter your essence, brimming with vitality and aspirations, all for the sake of his own selfish desires?

“Please, find it in your heart to forgive me.” He implores, beseeching a woman whose consciousness drifts farther from the realms of reality with each passing moment. He knows he must seek redemption for his transgressions, yet fate, in its cruel irony, has torn you from his grasp.

“Till death do us part.” He vowed, but death arrived far too soon. Now he seeks refuge in the embrace of alcohol, drowning his sorrows in its numbing depths, condemned to a lifetime of inebriation and despair.

⎯⎯ ‎“The Widower's Lament,” was born from the deft strokes of Nanami Kento's brush in 1939. Merely five days later, its artist passed away from an intentional overdose.

At present, you were standing before the painting with a newfound sense of solemnity, having learned the story behind its creation. “Nanami Kento.” You muse aloud, your voice tinged with reflection, “What regret can do to a man.”

As the night descended, sleep eluded you, enveloping you in its restless embrace. The hours stretched on and slumber remained elusive, you reluctantly abandoned your bed, seeking solace in the simple act of fetching water to quiet the storm of thoughts raging within your mind. Wandering through the labyrinthine corridors, you were startled to discover a room aglow with soft light, Bewildered by the illumination, for you had no recollection of leaving any lights on. Upon reaching the room, your bewilderment turned to astonishment as you beheld a sight that defied rational explanation. Before you stood the very man from the painting as if he had stepped out from the confines of his canvas.

Adorned with a serene smile, his eyes shimmering with a depth of emotion, he gazed upon you with an unmistakable longing. “Darling, we meet again.”

Transfixed by the surreal encounter, you could only watch in stunned silence as he drew near, enveloping you in an embrace. “Allow me to fix the errors of my past.”

Have you finally lost your mind?

“I should have been there to support you through your sorrow. I'm sorry for letting you endure such pain on your own. Allow me the chance to atone for my mistakes, even though I know I don't deserve your forgiveness.”

His touch felt so vividly real that you couldn't help but lean into it, drawn by the almost tangible sensation.

𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇: (1) Complications Of Lobotomy (2) Drug Overdose

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄: The Great Depression (1930’s)

──𑁍──𑁍─𖥸─𑁍──𑁍──

╰ ❝𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐑❞ ( 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 )

꒰ྀི✶꒱ Geto Suguru, was a venerable general celebrated for his countless victories on behalf of his nation, also presided over the royal guards with unerring dedication. “Echoes Of Valor” is a painting commemorating his relentless dedication to triumph and his unwavering loyalty to his people. In this portrait, he stands resolutely, adorned in his regal uniform, sword in hand. Little did anyone know, this portrait would be his last homage. Two years hence, a revolution erupted within his country, marking a tumultuous turn in its history.

Today, I now stand to accept my alleged punishment. For the sins I hath been accused of, though I swear upon mine innocence. I labored tirelessly to raise our nation from destitution. Despite my efforts, my people failed to recognize my noble intentions. From the moment I wed the king, I faced scorn and rejection, but I stood firm. I hath striven to end the suffering of mine people, yet in the end, I bore the blame. I hath ever sought to hearken unto the needs of the people, and now, I shall do so by permitting them to behead me this day. My people, I come here to meet my end with sincerity and humility, eternally bearing my unwavering devotion.

“The whore queen, who isn't hast nothing but bringeth us ruins, betraying our trusteth. But anon we shall 'rase the monarchy once and for all!”

“Why must you marry him?” Suguru's voice trembled with desperation as he posed the question, his eyes pleading for an answer that would assuage the torment gnawing at his heart.

“I must. It is my duty.” You responded with a sense of solemn obligation, your words weighed down by the burden of duty that lay heavy upon your shoulders.

“It doesn't have to be this way,” Suguru implored. “I will soon be the leader of the royal guards, I possess considerable power and influence. I can offer you a life of comfort and security.”

You dismissed his word, with sorrow lacing in your voice. “my loyalty lies with the kingdom and its people. I cannot turn away from the responsibility entrusted to me as their future queen.”

Oh, how fervently he wishes to curse the prince for casting his covetous eyes upon you. Yet he knows he cannot, for his unwavering loyalty to his country binds him, even when the edicts are unjust. Now, you are destined to wed the prince, the future King. You have been chosen, and there is nothing to be done but to resign yourself to this fate, even though your heart belongs to another.

“My king, we must address this matter; otherwise, I fear it will only worsen.” You implored your husband. But he refused to heed your plea.

“I will hear no more of this. There are more urgent matters that require our attention.” He declared, storming off and leaving you in a state of despair.

Even as Queen, your influence was limited if you could not address matters with your husband. It felt futile in the end, as he dismissed anything beyond his own concerns. War and the acquisition of wealth consumed the King's attention, leaving the needs of the people neglected. You strove to make a difference, even if your efforts went unrecognized by those you sought to aid.

Before this life of opulence, you were once a commoner, intimately acquainted with the hardships faced by those who toiled daily just to survive. Now, you felt helpless, ensnared in a life where you could do nothing to save those around you.

In your youth, your heart was ensnared by a man with locks as dark as midnight, and a smile so luminous it almost blinded you. He was the son of a royal guard, and you often wondered what drew him to you. Perhaps it was love at first sight, for he seemed to fall for you completely and without reservation.

Beneath the canopy of the night, as the stars cast their shimmering light upon you both, his gaze locked with yours in an unspoken understanding as if he could fathom the depths of your soul.

“It pains me to witness you bearing this burden alone.” He confessed, his voice a whisper against the tranquil night. “I loathe that you are held accountable for circumstances beyond your control. Oh, how I yearn to whisk you away from all of this. To a place where I could claim you as my own, to wed you and make you my wife.”

Indeed, it was your most fervent desire—to prolong the sweet caress of your lover's lips, to remain nestled in his embrace for eternity, to proudly declare him yours. But alas, life's cruel hand denied such desires, for such a wish could never be fulfilled.

Rumors began to swirl around you, dark whispers branding you as the “Whore Queen,” accusing you of adultery. You cannot think of how you were seen despite being careful in seeing Suguru in your late-night encounters.

Two years later, a revolution ignited in your country. You had always sensed that upheaval was inevitable, but you had not anticipated its arrival so soon. The storm of rebellion was upon you, sweeping through the land with a force that could not be quelled. Your husband did not back down; instead, he remained steadfast on his throne, resolutely denying the sins he had committed. His unyielding stance only fueled the flames of discontent.

Then, your future was abruptly cut short when they imprisoned you and proclaimed your sentence: death by the guillotine. The finality of their judgment hung over you like a dark cloud, casting a pall of despair as you faced the inexorable reality of your fate.

Your husband abandoned you and escaped but was soon caught by the hands of his people. Your execution was scheduled for the day before his. At last, you were granted your final words. “Those who knew me know that I tried my best to be the best ruler I could. Please forgive me for not being able to protect you all.” With that, you knelt before your people, bidding them farewell with one last noble act.

Once the news of your execution echoed across the country, Suguru was consumed by disbelief. He couldn't fathom that he hadn't been able to intervene in time, to help you escape from the jaws of fate.

The weight of his regret bore down upon him, a burden he would carry for the remainder of his days. And so, when he took up arms against the revolutionaries, he did so with a fervent determination to atone for his perceived failure.

Yet, in the eyes of the revolutionaries, his valiant stand was seen not as redemption but as treachery. Branded a traitor to the nation, Suguru fought on, undeterred by the accusations hurled against him.

And in the end, he fell under the barrage of enemy fire.

“Echoes Of Valor” stands as a captivating masterpiece within the halls of the country's most visited attraction, a beacon drawing countless visitors to its storied embrace. As your group embarked on a guided tour, the illustrious tale of General Suguru Geto and his clandestine romance with the last queen of the country unfolded before you, recounted by the knowledgeable guide.

Amidst the murmurs of your companions, you found yourself lingering, transfixed by the portrait of the revered general. His penetrating gaze seemed to reach out to you, stirring a sense of inexplicable familiarity, as though you had encountered those piercing eyes in a distant memory.

Lost in contemplation, time seemed to blur as you stood in silent communion with the painted visage. Slowly emerging from the reverie, you turned to rejoin your group, only to find yourself startled as the figure of the general materialized before you, clad in the resplendent attire of his era, his sword gripped firmly in hand.

In that suspended moment, uncertainty gripped your senses. Should you succumb to panic, flee from the apparition, or dare to entertain the possibility that you were not entirely ensnared by madness?

Suddenly, he descended to one knee, his hand placed solemnly upon his chest. “We meet again, my Queen.” He murmured, his voice a reverent whisper echoing through the empty space.

He extended his hand towards you, a silent invitation waiting for your response. In a moment of inexplicable impulse, you reached out, your hand meeting his in a delicate union. In that fleeting touch, an invisible bond seemed to ignite, drawing you inexorably closer.

Whispers of tender endearments escaped his lips, carrying the weight of longing and affection as he held you close. Without hesitation, you both surrendered to the rhythm of an unseen melody, bodies moving in synchrony as if choreographed by destiny itself. Each step, each twirl, felt like a culmination of ages of yearning, a dance of souls reunited at last.

Amidst the intoxicating whirl of the dance, a glimmer of reality intruded—his form, cast no reflection, a silent testament to the otherworldly nature of your encounter.

Yet, in his arms, you felt no fear, only an overwhelming sense of belonging.

𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇: (1) Behead by Guillotine (2) Shot to Death

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄: 18th Century

──𑁍──𑁍─𖥸─𑁍──𑁍──

╰ ❝𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆❞ ( 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 )

꒰ྀི✶꒱ “All Hail To The King” is a painting from the depths of the Late Middle Ages, a tableau capturing the essence of a bygone era. At its center, enthroned amidst opulent regalia, sits King Gojo Satoru, the illustrious monarch who reigned over his kingdom from 1343 to 1350. Until his untimely passing, succumbing to poison in the year 1350. Gojo Satoru, a monarch renowned for his indomitable triumphs, presided over an era steeped in resilience and fortitude, particularly amidst the ravages of the bubonic plague. As the deadly scourge swept relentlessly across the continent, claiming countless lives in its wake, his kingdom stood as a bastion of steadfastness and unwavering resolve. Through his leadership, Gojo Satoru guided his people navigating them through the darkest of times.

At the tender age of twenty, Gojo Satoru found himself thrust into a position of immense responsibility upon the untimely passing of his father. While burdened with grief, he also grappled with a deep-seated fear—the fear of not measuring up to the illustrious legacy left by his father's rule.

As the weight of expectation bore down upon his shoulders, he questioned whether he could ever truly become the leader his people needed in their hour of need. Faced with weighty decisions and daunting challenges, Gojo Satoru leaned upon the collective wisdom of his advisors, carefully considering their counsel before taking action.

At the age of twenty-one, Gojo Satoru found himself ensnared in the intricate web of royal expectations, criticized for the absence of a queen by his side. Countless maidens from across the kingdom were presented before him, each vying for the coveted position of consort to the monarch. Yet, despite the array of choices laid before him, Gojo Satoru found himself unable to commit to a decision. Caught between tradition and his own indecision, The King grappled with the weight of expectation, yearning to find a companion who would not only bear the title of queen but would also be a steadfast partner in the journey ahead.

In the sanctuary of his chamber, bathed in the soft glow of a solitary candle, the king found respite in the art of journaling. With each stroke of the quill, he poured his innermost thoughts onto the parchment, the ink flowing like a river of emotion.

Lost in the depths of his musings, he wrote with a fervor that bordered on desperation, as though each word penned were a fleeting attempt to capture the essence of his soul. Yet, amid his introspection, the king was abruptly interrupted by a faint but insistent knock at his chamber door. Startled from his reverie, he set aside his quill.

“Enter thee forthwith.”

“My lord, here are the papers thou requested.” Proclaimed a feminine voice.

“I thank thee greatly.” He replied, he turned to accept the documents, his gaze froze upon the captivating visage of the servant before him. In her beauty, she possessed an allure, unlike any maiden he had encountered in many months.

Before the servant could take her leave, the king swiftly intervened, his voice betraying a hint of urgency. “Pray, tell me thy name.”

The woman bowed in deference, her movements graceful and respectful. “(Y/N), my lord.”

From that fateful day forward, the king's thoughts were consumed by your presence. He found himself inexplicably drawn to you.

With newfound awareness, the king sought out your presence within the castle. He found himself increasingly eager for the chance to converse with you once more.

A friendship blossomed between the king and you, deepening with each shared moment. One day, he invited you into his study, eager to explore your literary treasures after learning of your ability to read and write.

Together, they delved into the realms of literature, exchanging thoughts and insights, their discussions weaving a tapestry of shared understanding and mutual respect.

Through laughter and contemplation, both of you forged a bond that defied the boundaries of their respective roles.

As the days turned into weeks and weeks into months, it became increasingly evident to the king that his feelings for you had evolved beyond mere friendship. One day, as they were reunited, a palpable tension hung in the air, and he found himself unable to resist the pull of his emotions.

He reached out and gently clasped your hand in his.

“My lord?”

Caught in the grip of emotions he could no longer deny, the king hesitated for a moment before finding the courage to speak. “(Y/N), I can deny it no longer—I have fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with you.”

How could this be? A king confessing his feelings so fervently to a lowly servant like yourself.

“Grant me the honor of marrying thee, to stand beside thee for all eternity, to cherish and protect thee for the span of our days.”

“How could I ever deny such a request, even if I feel unworthy of being the king's wife?”

But before happiness could fully take root, grim tidings swept through the kingdom like a dark shadow. News spread like wildfire of a deadly plague that was sweeping across the land, claiming the lives of countless souls in its relentless grasp. They called it the Black Death, a dread scourge that struck fear into the hearts of all who heard its name.

The first thought that consumed Satoru's mind was your safety. With the ominous specter of the Black Death looming over the kingdom, he resolved to protect you at all costs. He swiftly ordered that you be relieved of your previous duties in the kitchen and other land tasks, fearing that exposure to the disease would jeopardize your well-being.

As the days wore on, the dread toll of the Black Death continued to mount, casting a pall of despair over the once-bustling streets. The rates of infection soared ever higher, and the stench of death hung heavy in the air.

Satoru felt powerless in the face of such an overwhelming tragedy. No amount of wealth or authority could stem the tide of death that swept through the land.

In the late hours of the night, with the palace shrouded in a hushed stillness, Satoru waited anxiously in his chambers for your return. As you entered, his tall figure rose from his seat, casting a commanding presence in the dimly lit room.

“Where have you been?” He demanded, his voice carrying a tone of concern that betrayed his worry.

“Satoru, I...” You began, but her words faltered as he swiftly placed his hand upon her body, searching for any sign of injury or distress. “I am well, I pray thee, believe me.”

Despite your reassurances, Satoru couldn't shake the lingering worry that gnawed at his heart.

“Wherefore is (Y/N)?” He inquired, his tone tinged with concern.

One of the servants, head bowed low in deference, responded “My lord, (Y/N) hath been sequestered in a separate chamber, for it seemeth she may have been afflicted with the disease.”

Dread swelled within him at the tidings. How could this be? The mere thought of you succumbing to the plague filled him with a sense of helplessness and despair.

What frustrated him most was the knowledge that he was not allowed to see you, to embrace you, to hold you one more time before you departed.

Until he was informed of your passing in your sleep. His heart cried out, and continued to cry, the thought of you departing this world alone, without him by your side, tore at his soul. He grieved deeply for a long time, his sorrow seeming unending. Yet, even in the depths of his grief, he knew that you wouldn't want him to linger in sorrow forever. You were that selfless. So he resolved to carry on, to rule and honor your memory as best he could, by not marrying anyone else, ruling his kingdom alone.

However, fate had other plans. Blinded by his grief, he became vulnerable, and ultimately fell victim to the vengeful act of a servant who poisoned him.

Thus, his reign met its end in the year 1350, abruptly concluded three years before the scourge of the Black Death finally ceased its relentless rampage.

Lately, your head has been filled with dreams of a time-long era, a realm straight out of the pages of a fantasy novel. These dreams feel vivid as if you've been transported to a world you once inhabited. While engrossed in reading medieval literature for a history assignment, you find yourself succumbing to drowsiness. Seeking respite, you rest beneath the shade of a towering tree on campus, drifting into a slumber.

As you awaken, you're greeted by the sight of mesmerizing sapphire eyes, gazing deeply into yours. A strikingly handsome man lies beside you, his smile illuminating the surroundings. With a gentle gesture, he brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, drawing closer.

“I have longed for your presence.” He whispers, his voice carrying an otherworldly charm that resonates within your soul. You're enveloped by a profound sense of familiarity and belonging.

He leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that transcends reality. It feels as though the barriers between worlds have dissolved, leaving only the genuine warmth of his embrace and the intoxicating sweetness of the moment.

𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇: (1) Death by Bubonic Plague (2) Poisoned

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄: 14th Century ( Late medieval period )

Author's Note, So basically you died in different timelines and they refused to reincarnate so they stayed as ghosts trapped in paintings. I had this draft for a while and I really liked how it turned out 🙌🏻, thanks for reading !!

All rights reserved © 2024 𝐈𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐌. Please do not copy, rewrite, or translate my works on any other platform. Dividers and Pngs made by me.

[instantpeachrunaway]

WELL, IT LOOKS LIKE IT'S OVER...😢

Do you see each of these characters? each of them told a story, a journey, a tragedy or even comedy! And during all these 10 long and short years, they were with us, but everything that is good unfortunately ends, and the time has come to say goodbye...

I just want to say how much this incredible work has impacted my life so deeply in a way I have never experienced before, and I will always carry on its gigantic legacy deep in my heart.

THANK YOU, ATTACK ON TITAN!❤

[amatres]

playing an elven circle mage in origins is such an experience, they are the only one without any deep route connection with others outside the circle. no one will recognize them outside other circle mages. there's even an option to choose that they don't remember where they're from like wtf.

what would that even do to a person, to feel like they don't have anywhere to belong outside of the institution that tries to convince them that simply being born as they were is a crime that must be paid by being locked away their whole life, surrounded by people trained to kill them if they ever got too upset.

and the people they can find community in are mostly all human, including those who remember life outside the circle carrying the prejudice that comes from that. the templars and the unspoken aspect that elven mages who run away from the circle don't get to be brought back alive they are just killed because why would they trust an elf of all people to not delve into blood magic and talking to demons as soon as they are out of the sight of templars. the mages who speak of the injustice of their situation more than likely being human because the humans get to live long enough to speak out about it, humans who often times only see the suffering of mages at best, and at worst vocally dismiss the plight of elves and how that intersects for elven mages and-

[catladywriter]

Inotan Fan Comic: Eldest son? Second son? by ReName 重名君

Author’s Original Notes: I haven't been able to see the movie version yet, so I can only satisfy my cravings by listening to the voice actors' recitation of the plot > < (But the recitation is really great!)

When I saw Tanjirou say this line, it really felt like something he would say >w<

And in the "Infinity Train" arc, there's Tanjirou's validation of Inosuke's boss status, which makes me imagine if they had any small conversations like that between them haha >w< !

Click here for links to the artist ReName_重名君’s social media and artwork, the master list of their translated artwork, and proof of permission to translate and repost.

Do not repost/edit without the artist’s permission.

—

Translator’s Notes:

Poor cinnamon roll Tanjirou, despite being so young, he carries a heavy burden that few can truly understand and empathize with. It's heartbreaking to see the sadness in his gentle eyes, knowing the tragedies he's already experienced and will continue to face.

Thankfully, Boss Inosuke is there to look after his Underling #1! I love how he confidently declares himself as the boss, yet feels warm and fuzzy and blushes when he realizes that Tanjirou truly agrees with him. It's heartwarming to see how Inosuke makes Tanjirou feel secure, and this comic portrays it beautifully. Also, Tanjirou's blushing in that last panel too (⁄ ⁄>⁄ω⁄<⁄ ⁄)⁄.

Reblogs are ❤ and please give the artist some love if you have a Lofter or Pixiv account. Click here for the artist’s socials and direct work links.

[wookiez]

On my knees begging for eunhyuk x male reader oneshot🙏 Just fluff, the reader is golden retriever like and follows him around a lot? And then they yk kiss kiss 😘 Sorry that it’s not very descriptive. Of course you can always discard this and if you don’t, please take your time<3

𓆩❤︎𓆪 little follower !!

pairing : lee eunhyuk x male reader

genre : fluff

synopsis : golden retriever reader follows eunhyuk around like a puppy the whole day and they end up confessing to each other.

author's note : love the fact that it's male reader, we need more male readers in fics!!but anyway, I hope this fluff fits up to your expectations.

lee eunhyuk is a calm-headed and rational guy. you've met him when you've first moved into the green home apartment, way before the tragedy happened. you still remember the first time you met. you had bumped into him while writing a uni essay that was due in two days, he was holding a cup of coffee and it spilled both on your shirt, and your essay paper. you panicked since you worked so hard writing that particular essay for days and it's exactly due in two days and you desperately tried to wipe the coffee stain off, but it was inevitably ineffective. the essay was wet and long gone. eunhyuk took notice of that and decided to lend a hand by rewriting your essay for you. that's when you started to take interest in him. slowly that interest built into love.

since then, you've always tried to interact with him in any way you can. though currently, the whole residence of the green home apartment is struggling especially with what's going on outside currently. It's been a few days since it happened, when strange monsters started appearing and spreading.

you've noticed how eunhyuk has taken the role of a leader and has led the remaining residents. due to that, he has a lot of responsibilities and burden on his shoulders.

so now currently in the present, you're following him around as he orders some of the residents. then, you followed him to the bathroom. as he was about to unzip his pants to pee,

“why do you always follow me around everywhere?” eunhyuk questions.

“is it wrong for me to follow you everywhere, hyuki?” you reply, with a bright smile.

he stares at you, expressionless as he always does, “it's somewhat a violation of privacy, but I guess not. do whatever you must as long as it doesn't affect anything bad.” he says

“okie dokie!”

“now, please could you leave and let me pee in peace.”

“lets pee together, hyuki. I've already seen your dick before!”

you've been following him around the whole day, like you always do. right now, all of the remaining residents are here as eunhyuk was strategizing a plan. they were all looking at him, eyes full of hope that he'll come up with a good plan to ease them of the disaster-like happenings.

“your cuteness is making everyone stare, hyuk!” you say in a teasing tone.

he looks at you, deadpan. he's used to your random comments by now. that doesn't stop you from noticing how red his ears are though.

the other residents also, are used to your random comments. you've always stuck to eunhyuk like a piece of gum, you're literally inseparable.

after explaining the plan and strategy, all of the residents separated to do whatever they wanted to do. you're left with eunhyuk.

“hyuki, I know you like me! I saw your ears turn red earlier!” you say gleefully.

“maybe I possibly do.”

“huh?" you let out, as you were caught off guard.

“maybe I do like you. no, I do like you. ”

you were taken aback, processing the situation.

“i'm aware that this situation isn't really the best time to confess considering that things that have been happening outside lately but, I just had to let it out.” he continues.

you suddenly regained your consciousness back and a big smile engulfed your face.

“you darn loverboy! I knew I was irresistible!” you joked, while giggling.

“i'm really glad you do though. because I love you so much that it makes me feel as if any time without you is far too long.” you continue.

“is that why you follow me around so constantly?” he asks.

“yep!” you reply.

“anyhow...” you say as you take his glasses off,

“you're so pretty, eunhyuk.”

he stares into your eyes, you lean in closer giving him a peck on the lips.

“hehe, I've always wanted to know how your lips felt—”

you feel hands grabbing your neck and pulling you closer into a deep kiss. his lips touched yours. deeply kissing you into a high state. then you both pull away, faces both red.

“...that was really something, hyuki.”

“yeah...never expected I could do that type of sort.”

extra !!

you were currently playing with eunhyuk's hair as he read a book, sat between your legs. you call out to him.

“hyuk!”

“hm?” he looks away from his book, now his gaze is on you. you gave him a soft peck on the lips. you have a thing for giving him pecks on the lips nowadays.

then you said,

“my mega schlong is bigger than yours.”

honestly, I didn't have much ideas for this unfortunately because sweet home is quite the sad dark action horror story it's quite hard to make it fully fluff but I sure do hope you liked it.

©wookiez

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

undefined

Michael Sheen on playing fantasy creatures, angels and the concept of goodness ❤. (MCM Comic Con, 30.10.2022)

Q: You've play a variety of various monsters over the years, like, various fantasy creatures, you've played: Lucian in Underworld, you've done Aro in Twilight, you've done both briefly Crowley but you've definitely done Aziraphale in Good Omens, who was your favourite to play and are there any, like, mythical creatureas that you still want to do?

Michael: Ooh, it's a good question. Well, because there's such a sort of tradition of vampires, you know, and I do like - having said that I don't like horror films, partly because I'm so... they have such power over me in a way and I'm so sort of sensitive to that material, that's partly why I didn't watch things - but I've always been fascinated by vampires and what they represent to us, what they symbolize to us, and how they've changed over the generations, you know, each generation sort of finds its own version of vampire, so doing twilight was part of that and I saw how that had affected my daughter those books and that story had affected my daughter and that you could see that was a very powerful thing and then, you know, werewolves as well, the idea of men and women, I suppose, who've... their anger and their appetite just sort of overtakes them, I mean, that's true of lot of them, arent' they, vampires as well, but I've always been drawn to all that... but in a way that challenge of playing an angel has been the one I enjoyed the most because I am sort of fascinated by goodness, what is it to be good and the concept of goodness and that we as a sociaty tend sort of undervalue goodness, it's sort of seen as somehow week and a bit nimby and 'oh it's nice' and, you know, not... and I think that to be good takes enormous reserves of courage and stamina, and... I mean, you have to look the dark in the face to be truly good and to be truly of the light and it takes such courage, and the most, the bravest people I've ever come across in my life are people who've gone through terrible tragedy and terrible pain and terrible grief, and have somehow managed to turn that into something positive, to make positive change for other people, and whenever I've met anyone who's done that I always think it's a miracle, it's an absolute miracle, and the idea that goodness is somehow lesser and less interesting and not as kind of muscular and as passionate and as fierce as evil somehow and darknes I think is nonsense. So the idea of being able to portray an angel, a being of love and... I loved seeing the things that people put online about angels being ferocious creatures and I love that, I think that's a really good representation of goodness can be, what it should be I suppose. So, yes, so I'm gonna say: the angel.

[tinfairies]

I can request a yandere! reaction of Daemon, Aemond, Aegon, they are in love with Lady reader (of an important house) and want to marry her but she is already married to another leader Lord (of an important house) but nothing her husband is sick and she dies and they try to marry her but she is pregnant and carries the heir of her dead husband and therefore she has to be in her kingdom with her future son (do you think they would give her moon tea?)😶❤

Aemond's plan backfired. You were supposed to come crying into his arms.

Not baring the child of the man he killed.

Not stepping up to rule over that dead man's house.

He had to find some way to get you to come to him.

If you had no heir, the house would look to a different son, a different lady, to bring the House greatness.

It was settled, that baby will be gotten rid of.

Aemond met with you at your castle, to give you his condolences about your husband's passing of course.

Sitting together over tea the two of you laughed as you had before.

Before that twat got in Aemond's way.

A servant had come in to give you a message, as your back was turned Aemond pulled a flask from his sleeve and poured the liquid into your tea.

His hands were back in his lap by the time you turned around. He smiled as you sipped your tea again.

Soon, the terrible news of a lost pregnancy shook your kingdom. You were heartbroken.

Aemond invited you to come to the Red Keep, to get away from the place that brought you so much pain.

You would fall into his arms yet.

Aegon couldn't help but laugh when he read the letter. His ex lovers husband had dropped dead from a cold.

His laughter stopped however when he read that she was left a pregnant widow.

Well, we couldn't have that now can we?

That would keep you in your kingdom, and away from him.

He would consult his brother on how to get you out of the responsibility of being a Lady Regent. Aemond of course would suggest moon tea.

Aegon smiled wickedly. Already devising a plan.

A new maid was appointed to you, an older woman that was very knowledgeable on pregnancy. She would care for you, and make you teas and tonics to sooth your pains and cravings.

Soon however another tragedy would strike. You miscarried late in the night.

The news hit the Kingdoms by morning and the rumors only grew, you were accused of murdering your husband and own child to gain power.

Aegon invited you to the castle, to keep you safe.

"It's okay, I know the rumors aren't true."

Daemon was not shocked when he learned your husband was dead. The man was pushing 70.

He was even more shocked to learn that you were with child, and planned to stay in your Kingdom to raise the child there.

Daemon would absolutely not have that, he came to visit you at once, arriving just days after the funeral.

He would sit and talk with you, comforting you and offering advice.

Daemon told you how hard it was to run a Kingdom, and raise a child. He filled your head with horrors of childbirth and deformities your baby could have, especially being impregnated by someone so old.

He would relish in your panic, he had you in a corner and all you could do cling to him for comfort.

Daemon soon suggested moon tea, and offered you to go to Dragonstone with him.

You accepted the offer immediately.

Daemon was thrilled, he finally had you in his clutches.

[mochatune]

I really love your characterization, I feel like you're really true to the source material whenever possible ❤ you're good at making cute moments without sugarcoating the unpleasant parts of characters!

I'm curious.. how would Peter/YB react to the reader confronting him about not actually loving them? Reader having been very accepting of him and having a sort of revelation when his Perfect Boyfriend facade slips. (I mean he'd absolutely just cut his losses and go full murder mode but I think it'd be interesting if he actually had any level of introspection.)

If the goal was to flatter me then it worked, like shit, what a beautiful compliment 😂❤️ I got you rn. There is a lot of ways to interpret this hc so I’m hoping what is written is what you were asking for.

——

- Peter had a lot of red flags you’d had looked past. He was perfect and went above the bar when it came to past men who had entered your life. He remembered your birthday, the anniversaries, even those cheesy days like national hug day and he spared no expense into making it special for you even when there was nothing to celebrate.

- this was honestly a big part in why you were so accommodating when he was less than savory to be around, you yourself are surprised with how much of a pushover you were in the past. Guess it shows just how low the bar is for you.

- things eventually just started connecting as you got to know him. The possessiveness being a big part, it felt like ever since getting to know him your social life sort of…. changed. It suddenly felt like there was less time for the other people you cared about, even your family wasn’t spared when it came to him. Everyone was a challenge for him.

- neither of you really ever really established a relationship, you always thought you two were just really close friends I mean … sure there were some moments where it felt like something more but it wasn’t something you were barely even beginning to consider after past relationships left you feeling drained. You were okay with this sort of situationship for the the time being you just hadn’t noticed how much he had really wanted.

- He was always the guy there for you to talk shit with when you were frustrated or the shoulder to cry on, he was practically your best friend ever since Lucy had passed. You still blamed yourself for everything despite no consecutive reports on the case for months now but hey atleast you had someone to help you grieve and move past the tragedy that had happened at that diner. He was always there for you, he said it himself and had done more then enough to prove it through his actions towards you.

- one day he just changed. It’s like the guy you’ve been building trust with for almost half a year now just turned around and showed you a side he’d been forcing himself to hide from you.

- suddenly seeing those eyes that made you feel like prey, it was weird and quite frankly you didn’t like it. You didn’t like how he was treating you like a piece of meat, like any other guy would. It felt like you were beginning to see him for who he was.

- all a guy had done was catcall you, it wasn’t anything. You ignored it and kept it pushing like you always do but he just couldn’t let it go.

- he didn’t do anything, not while you were watching anyways but you saw that change in demeanor. He’s done it before though it was always a flash of an emotion you could not name, it always intimidated you but never for long as he was back to his same old lovable self.

- he sort of just dumps everything on you, everything he’d been keeping in all those nights working up the nerve at the mere thought of embracing you as more than just a friend. All those times you had cried to him but not because of him, it infuriated him that the relationship he’d been making up in his head since practically forever with you was nothing more than a mere delusion he’d created to cope with never actually being with you. That was going to change. Tonight.

- he knew, he just knew you wanted to be with him as much as he did with you so when you told him you were put off by his behavior and that you did not feel for him even a fraction of what he felt for you, hearing that “you wanted some time away from him” threw him through a loop. Not a pretty one either.

- those eyes again, the ones he has flashed at the man earlier. The ones that had you feeling helpless. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

- it was like a gust of wind when he grabbed you with all his might, a meaty vein pulsing trough his forearm and the eyes of a killer gaping into your soul. A screaming fit paired with it, words along the lines of “why can’t you just accept that you love me” the words of a delusional freak that you know in your bones you should have never even given a single benefit of the doubt. That all this time that gut feeling in back of your mind was true all along.

- you’re in so much distress that it’s all a blur. The over-exertion of your muscles trying to fight back against the agonizing grip of a grown man paired with the ringing in your head from the screams, the wet on your face from the spittle of the man screaming intensely in your face. There’s a thud and suddenly everything is just black.

- you find yourself with a pounding headache and foggy vision bound against a soft surface, most likely a mattress. You try to move but you find your wrist cold from a handcuff keeping you fastened against the bed post. Everything from last night comes back and you’re reliving everything, a panic attack hits you before you calm down again having hope that there may be a way out of this.

- your captor, the person you thought you’d see comes walking in with a slight hop in his step. Almost as if last night never even happened, he has a tray of food. You aren’t sure what it is but you know you want no part in it immediately readying your voice to try and talk your way out of this predicament.

- there’s a stool by the bed your bound to, he sits on it and puts the tray on the bedside table right by your head.

- he tells you good morning in a sickly sweet voice you wish you’d never hear, almost as sickening as the deep purple bruise left on your arm after the mere grip put on you last night.

- you don’t offer a kind response back (who would let’s be honest) but it doesn’t seem like he minds. That flips a switch when the next words fly out of your mouth, almost as if you didn’t even think about who you were talking to before you spoke.

- nasty words continuously come out of your mouth begging him to let you go all the while barking like a chihuahua as if you were trying to hit a nerve. Who could take anyone seriously while they were tied down though?

- he laughs it off, this is why he loves you so much. You have a quality that can’t be copied, your spirit is so pure to him. He can’t help but communicate how much he loves you with a breathy voice and an ethereal stare.

- you’re next words were your biggest mistake, the ones that sealed your fate. You just couldn’t say you loved him back.

- his reaction, it’s not as bad as last night but still terrifying nevertheless. He understands it’s a process in a relationship but to spout such nonsense is enough to rile him up all over again.

- he’s more than offended at being told that he doesn’t really love you and only like the idea of you, you’re more than that to him. You’re essence, the mere presence of you is enough to blow him away. He huffs it away with a smirk, you don’t mean that.

- you’re too weak to fight the cloth clogging your airways, the all to familiar blackness coming back into the corner of your eyes slowly drowning your vision in it as your brain goes numb.

- begging to leave it just won’t work, he knows you really love him and that you want to stay here. You just need time and he’s more than willing to take care of anyone else who seems to think they knows what’s best for you and him.

- just like he did with Lucy.

- overall the guy is fucking delusional, say goodbye to the possibility of him having even a single moment of clarity when it comes to you.

[tflaw]

— IT’S A RICH MAN’S WORLD.

The wealthiest man in Snezhnaya wants you. Is it a blessing or tragedy just waiting to unfold?

꒰ა ❤︎ ໒꒱ . . . f!reader. yandere!pantalone. dubious consent. coercion. blackmail. power play. unprotected. pee & uh cum. fingering. finger sucking. reader is smaller than pantalone. he’s a very nasty man and downright crazy.

++ anyways! it has been… weeks? months? since i’ve last written a one shot. this is my first yandere content that i’m actually a little proud of. a breakthrough. it cracked the writer’s block out of me fr. i’ve had so much fun writing this and i hope you’ll feel the same while reading! if ever i’ve forgotten to include a warning, please tell me! it’s 12 am where i’m at rn and my mind’s a biiit foggy. tell me what u think! <33

The air is sharp with perfume, rivaled by the redolence of wine placed in the hands of nobles completing the hierarchy in Snezhnaya. Bejeweled to the teeth and garbed with the finest silk, they filled the main hall of Zapolyarny Palace like scattered gemstones against the crystal blue shades of pillars and gothic windows. Buzzing noises of business talks, gossip of who wed who, which lord cheated on his wife, and the anticipation of whatever such lavish revelry might offer has taken over the place. 

“We’re up in a few minutes,” a girl whispered before muttering the same to the other person standing beside you. 

A feast is dedicated to the Harbingers’ return to Snezhnaya after months of diplomatic work. All over the country, everyone who possesses an invitation bolted to their favorite seamstresses and lapidaries. Even markets, shops, and stalls have all been occupied by the preparation. While you, on the other hand, have spent most of your days in the theatre to perfect the dance for the festivities. 

You palm your stomach, blowing out the anxiety poking your belly with a few deep breaths. It’s not always that chances to wander around the Palace’s halls are bestowed upon someone like you. Hailing from one of the poorest villages in Snezhnaya, the elders would consider it the highest of honors to walk on the very halls as the Tsaritsa. However, your mirth has been lost to the acid in your throat, ignited by your need to flee.

If this night hasn’t been a turning point in your rather mundane life, you would’ve done just that. But the stakes are high and you couldn’t risk a misstep.

Even with knowledge of what is to come, you start as the drums begin to roll. Heads turn expectantly towards the huge frescoed doors. All face luminous except yours, as one by one, the Harbingers march into the hall clad in their regalia. 

The throng immediately parts to make way for the Harbingers and Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa. They say she is as cold as the snowflakes blanketing Snezhnayan soil and just as pretty. Seeing her in all her glory, the songs and poems proved to be true: she is the most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid your eyes on. 

Forgetting for a moment the current plight you are situated in, your lips part in awe as your eyes trail her walking towards the crystallized throne. Heartbeat wild and frenzied, you’ve made a mental reminder to savor each moment. But your thoughts have been snuffed out like embers embraced by snow when your eyes moved a little further to her right. 

In blatant recognition, Pantalone tilts his head at you. There he is, eyeing you like a predator. He walks into the place knowing exactly where you are. Watching and looming over like a storm gathering in the middle of the sea. Afraid of its familiar intensity, you are, but a small part of you seeks refuge in sniffing out its whereabouts to better equip yourself on how to escape its havoc. An endeavor you were yet to accomplish. Despite your swift effort to sever the connection, his eyes have lingered. They always do.

“It’s time,” the same girl says, bobbing her head before proceeding towards the made-up stage in the corner of the hall.

At the first beat, you attempt to steer your mind away from thoughts of Pantalone. He makes you unsteady. His very presence is hard to bear most especially when he looks at you like he owns you. Which, in more ways than one, is true. 

You twirl and sway to the music, plastering a toothed smile whenever you spin to the center. If all goes well tonight, the theatre could attain favors from the Harbingers and the Tsaritsa. You could be a performer in Zapolyarny Palace and your future, as well as your family’s, will be secured. Perhaps, then, you won’t need to lean in on anyone for help. Such small hope but hope nonetheless. 

Years of performing and blending your very soul with the stage have not prepared you for the attention that followed after the dance. For some reasons unknown, men and women alike flocked in your direction, congratulating a job well done. Alien you might be to the nobles’ way of conversation, you have treated the courtesy as your liberty from Pantalone’s presence. 

If you can entertain these nobles long enough, perhaps you wouldn’t need to cross paths with the Harbinger tonight. 

That has been the bane of your existence, has it not? Thinking that you can undermine, even for a little while, Pantalone’s eyes.

Your heart sinks as a hand slips around your waist, pulling your body close to a solid chest. 

“I see that you have been enjoying the night without me, darling,” he whispers, shooing away the men attempting to approach with stares alone. 

“Your Grace,” you breathe, hand tightening around your glass. Stomach coiling at the endearment, you shake out of his grip but he proves yet again how it’s futile to do so. He’s bigger than you. Stronger. 

“It seems to be a challenge getting a hold of you tonight. What with all the men circling you around like vultures.” He looks down at you with a glint of mischief. His hand makes fast around your waist. “Worry not. They will not bother you any longer.” 

You nervously sip from your glass, wondering when will you ever have the tongue to tell him that you’d rather conjure up fake smiles with the nobles than be in his company. 

“I’m quite alright, Your Grace,” is all that you’ve managed to say. “And… and I wouldn’t want to deter your reunion with your fellow Harbingers,” you follow, hoping that he’d remember the comrades he has abandoned. 

“Nonsense,” Pantalone scoffs. “In truth, I’m growing tedious of conversing about work and I’d assume you are, too. We shall retire to a quiet room.” 

He leads you through the body of the crowd, as though parading the both of you together. Noticing the curious eyes thrown upon you by guests, your confidence evaporated. With his hand on your waist, claiming more than protecting, you know exactly the source of the next gossip in town. 

Such a straightforward display of affection by a Harbinger, no less, is not to be taken lightly. You grow uneasy ruminating about what might be the impression of people around you by now.

The discomfort settles deep in your bones when Pantalone opens a door to a secluded room. Far from the crowd, no doubt, the distance muffles the music from the hall. Standing on the threshold, you hesitate for a moment, debating whether to run and make for the exit. 

“Come on in,” he encourages, tone honey-laced. If he sensed your hesitation, he’s hidden it quite well with oblivion. But only when you’ve stepped inside the chamber does he finally look away. 

Pantalone shuffles out of his fur coat, revealing his turtleneck sleeveless shirt embedded with jewels near the collar. “You may leave us now,” he commands the servant poking the hearth with a metal rod, whom you failed to acknowledge because of your nerves. 

He politely bows to you both before departing the room.

“Come sit near the fire,” he says with a mirthful twitch of his brow on your unmoving frame. “One might think you’re afraid to come close. Come here.” 

Mustering up all courage, you ask, “Why did you bring me here, Your Grace?” 

There is nothing but the sound of wood crackling and liquor pouring down into two glasses after your question. Warmth might have enveloped the space, but you remain cold against his penetrative stare. 

“Why, you ask? I know you’re not one for social gatherings. Therefore, I took it upon myself to save you from such dull conversations. Political matters aren’t your thing, I surmised. And they ken nothing else but politics,” he explains before walking towards you, offering the other glass with a smile.  

Stop the charade. You know nothing about me. 

“It matters not,” you insist, voice feeble as you reach for the glass. Frustrated are you by his theatrics, you have not forgotten that he is a Harbinger. Through and through, he gives away no sliver of doubt about his capabilities regardless of his laidback demeanor. “I have to be there with the others. This night is important to the theatre. We have to be there for when the Tsaritsa—”

“When the Tsaritsa, what?” He caresses your cheek, invading your personal space once again. “When Her Majesty bestows the theatre a favor of being permanent performers in the Palace?” he narrates as if he’s reading your mind. 

“Is it a far-fetched dream, Your Grace?” You blankly stare at him, heart thudding. 

“Oh, no. Not at all,” he says before turning away, taking your hand to sit you down on the sofa before the fireplace. “The dance was impeccable. But it failed in comparison to you.” 

To that, you refuse to say anything. 

Pantalone leans over your shoulder, tracing the side of your neck with his finger. “Although I have to remind you that for it to happen, the Harbingers need to be unanimous.” 

Your breath hitches at the skinship. Reminding yourself that you need only get through the night, you close your eyes. “Are they, Your Grace? Unanimous?” 

“Nothing has been decided yet,” he whispers against your skin. “But they’ve been quite enthralled by the performance— and by you, no doubt. I’ve seen it in every man’s eyes tonight.” 

“Surely, you’re mistaken, Your Grace,” you reply nervously, sensitive to the direction of the conversation. 

“They want you,” he insists. “And I’m not one to share.” 

There it is— the words. His adamant claim to mark you. To claim you. To make you his territory. 

“I’m not certain I understand, Your Grace.” Your throat bobs deeply, eyes fixated on the dancing flames as you await his response. 

Pantalone sighs and takes a step back before circling around to crouch in front of you, blocking the flames from your sight. It has taken everything in you not to flinch when he took your cold hands in his warm ones.

“The Harbingers need to be unanimous,” he repeats while brushing your knuckles with his thumbs, as if consoling. And yet there is nothing in those eyes but unadulterated determination and yearning. So flagrant that his pupils dilate because of it. 

“And you…” You release a shaky breath, realizing what he truly means by being unanimous. “You do not plan to agree, do you?” 

He sighs in relief, as if grateful that you’ve finally understood his dilemma. “It is far beyond my patience to watch these men ogle at you—”

“Why are you doing this?” you croak suddenly, throat burning with anger and the need to lash out. “Why are you doing this to me?!” 

It’s not only your life that’d crumble. The others… the whole theatre… and he cares not even the slightest bit. 

Pantalone squints a little, confused at your unforeseen rage. He stands up, towering over your frame. “You look at me as if I’m wicked.” 

Your nails dig into the soft flesh of your palms, restraining the rancid words you wish to throw at him behind clenched teeth. How powerless you are under his mercy. It’s pathetic. It eats at your bones from within, leaving only a rotten mess behind. 

Receiving silence, Pantalone tilts your chin up with a mere lift of his finger. “Am I truly that terrible?” 

“It is… it is a terrible thing to be desired by you.”

At the look he’s given you, cowardice snakes into your ire and poisons what little bravery it has offered. 

“Why? Because I want all of you and I have not a mind to share with anyone?” An odd sense of curiosity tints his voice. It sounds as though your disapproval over the matter downright confuses him. 

“Pardon me, Your Grace. I am in dire need of fresh air.” You stand up but he catches your wrist swiftly, crashing your body onto his forcefully enough to have elicited a wince from you. 

“Look me in the eyes. Say that you’re willing to face the consequences of leaving this room and I’ll let you go.” The threat echoes as a whisper. Sharp and baleful.

“Consequences?” Seized by terror, your lips went ajar and pallid. You face him completely, wrist hot under his fingertips. 

He brushes the skin below your eye, as if plucking an invisible thread. “This is hardly the time to bring out the list, is it?”

The list. The list of everything your parents owe him: loans, mortgages, and debts. Who in Snezhnaya doesn’t owe him something? He’s the bloodline in which mora flows freely. A man of great wealth and influence, no one would dare displease him on purpose. 

“One day, I swear, I’ll pay everything we owe you. To the last penny. After that, you won’t hear from me ever again,” you hiss, clueless as to where you’ve gained the courage. Perhaps it’s rooted in your hopelessness and exhaustion towards having to bend on his will. 

“And I’ll do everything in my power to prevent such a horrible day,” he says, unaffected by your attitude. If anything, the determined set of your brows only deepened the flush on his cheeks. “Now, be a good girl and I might just change my mind…” he extends the last word, taking off his glasses before closing his mouth on yours. 

Everything, up to this moment, is weighing on a scale. Perhaps ever since your family has been indebted to him. The other side of the scale fattens and grows heavier with each mora beside your parents’ name. 

One day, Pantalone’s list will become as blank as your mind tonight. 

One day. 

Despite the frantic need that is evident in his eyes, Pantalone’s kisses are patient. He’s like an ocean on nights like this: dark, blood-curdling, and yet tempting. You couldn’t deny, no matter how you fight the admittance burning on your tongue, that he knows exactly where to touch and kiss you. How to coax lecherous sound after lecherous sound from your lips whenever his fingers would reach inside your cunt, curling and pumping until your stomach tightens. 

“Don’t be shy,” he sighs a breadth away from your lips, breathing in your heavy pleas. “Let me hear you.” 

You want to refuse him the pleasure of watching you melt under his playful ministrations. Want to extinguish the carnal lust painted in his eyes as he sucks and bites on your tit. Silence would wound his pride and crush his ego underfoot. And yet silence is the weapon missing from your arsenal. 

“I do appreciate your efforts in trying to keep your moans.” The corner of his lips tips up. “But your cunt is so wet. Nobody will believe your displeasure.”

Panting, your mouth opens for a rebuttal but he quickly shoves his fingers on your tongue. Overwhelmed with a whiff of something vinegary, you gag. 

“Taste yourself,” he commands. “Suck.” 

At the first swirl of your tongue, Pantalone grabs your throat with his free hand to steady your head. He hisses on your cheek, “I’ll fuck you so hard tonight you won’t think of anything else.” 

And he did fuck you. Hard. In many positions that have kept you exposed and embarrassed. He moves with his back flexing as he pounds your cunt. 

Your eyes blurred with tears when he flipped you on your stomach, ramming his length completely inside from the back. You have been stretched open, reduced to a whining mess. And he, grunting and groaning, drives himself in and out while securing your waist with big hands. 

Pantalone feels his cock growing harder, balls plumped and full of unreleased cum. His stomach clenches down to his cocktip. But before his release, he pops his cock out of your wet cunt. It bobs eagerly under its weight, shaft glossed with your arousal and ringed with white around the base. 

The interruption has given you but a few seconds to breathe before he pulls your leg and guides himself completely inside once again. You both gasped at the continued connection. You shriek when he hooks your other leg over his shoulder and starts to fuck you sideways. 

It’s embarrassing. The position is far too crude yet feels so good. It lasted for a minute before Pantalone shifted to face you. Both of your bodies are bouncing to his movements. 

“I’m close,” he declares in the crook of your neck followed by a gutted moan. 

Along with your head being fuzzy, the need to pee arises. “W… wait—” you rasp, palming his chest away. “I need to pee. Stop— stop!”

He stiffens and slows down, rising above you just enough to press a hand on your lower abdomen, before picking up his pace again. 

The knot in your chest slides to your abdomen, to where his hand is pressed down your flesh. You look up at him, a harsh cry escaping your lips. Utterly devastated with pleasure, you haven’t the strength to stop yourself from gushing around his girth. The warm liquid secretion from your cunt squirts everywhere— on the sheets, your thighs, and his thighs. 

“Archons,” you hear him sigh before an interval of unrestrained moans and grunts leave him. He gathers you in his arms, cock throbbing sporadically inside your walls. 

You know, by then, that he had come hot and needy straight to your womb. The last you’ve seen are his eyes, stricken with nothing but satisfaction and desire before sleep tugged you in its embrace. 

It’s the slip of the sun’s rays through the curtains that woke you up the next day. Sitting up on the bed, you’ve found yourself alone in the spacious room. No signs of Pantalone, and yet you still feel him in every corner of your body as if he’s stuck himself in your skin. Shivers thunder down your spine at the remnants of last night. The flashes of memory you’d rather forget have rendered you hankering for a good, long bath. And yet you have been faced with a dilemma right after stepping out of bed: your clothes are gone.

Panic rising, you clasp the sheets around your body before checking under the bed. The floor is spotless. 

How are you supposed to leave now? You might’ve already sold your soul to the devil named Pantalone, but you hold a sliver of self-respect to even consider marching naked out of Zapolyarny Palace. 

“You’re awake.” 

You jolt at the sound of his voice. 

He might’ve noticed your alarm, for he chuckles and raises his hands in defense. 

“Where are my clothes?” you rasp, putting as much distance between you as physically possible. 

“Oh, that?” He pumps his shoulders up in realization before snapping his fingers, then a servant carrying a huge box enters while looking at the floor. “I could not let you in those rags so I had someone burn them while you sleep.” 

Stupefied beyond recognition, words have unfortunately failed you when you needed them most. You feel faint just sorting through his revelation. Rags? And burned them without your permission? 

He motions to the servant, who placed the box on the bed beside you. “Go ahead and try the dress, my love. I’m certain the color will suit you.” 

There is no doubt about it. The dress has been bought from the most expensive shop in the city. You know this because of the name written on the box. Once, you’ve dreamt of possessing a dress made in that shop. Yet now, all you can feel is dread.

“I can’t,” you counter, “I can’t take this. I have not the mora to pay for this.” 

“Leave us,” he commands and the servant ran off without a backward glance. 

Pantalone closes the distance between you, breaching your personal space and claiming it as his own. He takes your chin and says, “It’s a gift. And it’d please me so if I see you wearing it.” 

“I do not want to please you.” You wag your head to take his hands off you. “I’d rather dress in rags or go home naked than… than wear that.”

From your peripheral, you’ve witnessed him wipe the sides of his mouth. He’s turning impatient, that you are certain. However, he reaches for your hand and holds it tightly despite your struggle. 

“Although the latter entices my imagination, do you want me plucking out the eyes of each person that’d look your way? I suppose not.” He grips your chin and made you look at him this time. An eerie smile, one that would’ve appeared lovely to a stranger’s eyes, shapes his lips. “However, you do have a choice, my love. You always have.” Then he kisses your forehead and leaves the room. 

Choice. You want to spit at the word. Trample on it until it’s reduced to pieces. He talks of choices but in truth, you have been left with none. 

It’s either you wear the stupid dress or remain in this stupid chamber with your stupid pride. Nothing matters. Whatever it is you decide to do, it will end up pleasing no one but Pantalone. 

do not repost, plagiarize, copy, or edit anything published by wtfkuni. check masterlist.

[iren-n-ire]

Astrology Observation 7

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

🚩 Take note that I'm not a professional astrologer, I just share what I experienced (or observed).

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

🟥Capricorn in the money house (2nd house) is kinda tragic (especially if Chiron is here too)

I have this and I can describe my life as I HAVE EVERYTHING EXCEPT MONEY & MY CAREER ASPIRATIONS

But it gets better over time, with the sign here. Like its ruler, discipline & mastery. LEARN IT THE HARD WAY TO GET THE BAG

♦ Your parents' big three can be the signs in the chart where you have many planets.

Your 7th house's zodiac sign & Venus' sign will provocate what people you'll have a crush on.

Speaking of 3/7 of my real life crushes are Libra suns, most of the Libras I knew have at least one to two people who has a crush on them in school.

🚩 Is it just me? Libra suns or air suns giving me trust issues and I don't know why.

👻 Never met a water sun sign who is not calm when their talking.

💔 As a person who has Venus in the 8th house, I have a question to my Venus 8th house mates out there: Do you romanticize toxic, bad things or tragedies in love?

Cause I do (I know its a red flag🤡, I think I read or watch too much venus eight house themes) and pain is so normal for me (like everyday chaotic and hell) that if I ever have for example, a boyfriend and he cheats it will be oh okay, I knew it from the start and I don't mind it because love is always painful for me. Lastly, that will be a trigger. To what? It's glow up time!

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

❤️‍🔥FOLLOW ME HERE❤️‍🔥

Facebook Pages: IREN & IRE

Instagram: iren_n_ire

Pinterest: iren_n_ire

Twitter: iren_n_ire

Tiktok: iren_n_ire

Tumblr: iren_n_ire

YouTube: iren_n_ire

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

❤ Thank you! See you on my next post! ❤

💋Be you, Do you, You are You! 💋