#like when he's on the court it's balanced and he knows exactly what and who he needs to be but off of it (because the Ravens barely had

[elainsgirl]

Antis hating and downplaying, Death and The lovely fawn will never not be funny bcs they’re literally just jealous.

Gwyn hasn’t even met Feyre (yet people still think she’s going to be the next main character?) , Nesta never gives an imagery between gwyn and Az or gives them a couples name. Well, if we’re going down that road - Nesta never actually ships Gwyn and Az either but that’s another discussion.

Feyre never looks at Elucien and gives them a couples name either. I mean…they’re literally mates and yet Feyre at no point in acowar or even acofas, explains an imagery between them.

Fox and the Fawn is fanon. It’s completely made up by Eluciens. I don’t even see the appeal or the connection? Foxes are predators - do you know red foxes attack fawns? So exactly what’s the appeal for fox and the fawn between Elucien? back to the point, Sjm never gives elucien an imagery or couple name that’s canon.

she gives one between Vassien. “Lord of fire and bird of flame” - yet nothing for Elain and Lucien.

Sure you can say Lucien and Elain’s names both mean light, Lucien’s heir to Day and Elain says she needs sunshine but

Lucien is only a potential heir to Day. There’s actually no foreshadowing he will become HL of the Day Court. His connection to the court is through spells & reading/knowledge not actual light/sun.

Elain got her sunshine & became better, unlike what elucien’s love to paint the NC as, Velaris does in fact get the same amount of sun as Day.

and funnily, Elain and Lucien are never connected together through day/light/sunshine. There’s never a scene where Feyre’s like “it makes sense why Elains mate would be an hair to day” etc.

putting all that aside - it’s absolutely hilarious when antis then try to downplay death and the fawn and make it seem this toxic foreshadowing. What elucien’s wanted for elain and Lucien, sjm did for elriel - connecting them both to this idea of death/life instead of connecting elain & Lucien through sunshine/light.

Azriel’s name is a spin on Death. Azrael means angel of Death. The reason Fawn is used for elain - is not to show the power imbalance between her & Az (yes I’ve had someone tell me this is foreshadowing how Az will always be more powerful and stronger then Elain)

But Because Elain’s name in Welsh means Fawn. Fawns represent spring, Life, new beginnings. (Deers represent regeneration)

For centuries - from the beginning of time - life and death have always been equals, working together to create balance. “death and the lovely fawn” is actually a very good way to subtly foreshadow elriel’s future storyline regarding the prison. it isn’t some way to showcase how toxic elriel will be and considering the scene had a full focus and was said during one of the most important scenes in Acowar - I’d say the imagery is pretty important.

Night Triumphant & Stars Eternal

Lady Death & Lord of Bloodshed

Death & The Lovely Fawn

Lord of Fire & Bird of Flame

It can’t be made more obvious for you who the endgame couples are.

[solaireverie]

aa23 | put it into speed drive

summary: [ lawyer!alex albon x f!driver!reader — social media au ] alex is contracted to help you get out of trouble after you land in hot water

faceclaim: florence pugh

warnings: language, dirty jokes

author’s note: hello party people!! so happy to bring you the first installment of in their shoes, my series with @lorarri about driver!reader. chaotic reader is the love of my life frfr

liked by landonorris, redbullracing, tatemcrae and 4,582,193 others

yourusername eat pasta drive fasta 🏎🍝

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user mother is mothering 😩

user i live for y/n's photodumps

user everyone say thank you y/n for feeding us!!

redbullracing let her cook 😌

user the way y/n looks at the camera in slide 2 🫣

liked by christianhorner, sebastianvettel, redbullusa and 9,105,273 others

tagged: yourusername

redbullracing Oracle Red Bull Racing is aware of the charges being brought against driver Y/N L/N. Oracle Red Bull Racing respects all official decisions and will be assisting Y/N in any legal proceedings. We ask for privacy and discretion during this period of time.

comments on this post have been disabled

7,482 likes

y/nupdates y/n left the monaco police station this morning accompanied by her lawyer, alex albon. alex is also a family friend and was contracted by red bull to help y/n with any legal issues that may arise. y/n and alex left on motorcycle shortly after she was released. when asked about recent events, y/n stated that she isn't worried and that she's in good hands (implied to be alex's)

pictured above: y/n this morning, a photo captured by passerby of alex on his bike waiting for y/n, and a picture of alex found on his firm's website

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user y/n's slaying everywhere 😍 even getting arrested isn't stopping her from serving with every outfit

↪ user omg fr i love her jacket and boots

↪ user we should have a y/n style account ngl

user damn her lawyer's hotttt 😳

↪ user yeah exactly!!! so glad someone else sees my ✨ vision ✨

user lol i can already see this dude getting a migraine within the first two hours of dealing with y/n

↪ user she's a menace and while i love her for that i pity her lawyer 😂

↪ user our thoughts and prayers for mr albon 🕯🕯🕯

628,192 likes

effwontea ok so who was going to tell me that y/n's lawyer is hot, cute, AND good with animals - admin g 👾

what crimes do i need to commit to hire alex to defend me 😳 - admin t 💃

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user idk if anyone's noticed but he's actually in a few of her older vlogs 👀 guess they've been friends for a while

↪ user and she hasn't showed us him until now???

↪ user i went back to watch the videos with alex in them and omg they're so cute togetherrrrrr

↪ user ikr!!! did you see that part where she drives them around monaco and he's literally scared for his life but also staring at y/n with heart eyes 😍

↪ user guess this isn't the first time that y/n has terrorized alex with her driving skills then 😂

user is it just me or are they really freaking adorable together

↪ user omg fr!! he balances out her chaos and she makes him laugh so much ❤️ my heart can't take this

liked by landonorris, alex_albon, georgerussell63 and 28,492,123 others

tagged: alex_albon

yourusername everyone say thank you to alex_albon's savior complex 😌 love u 🫶

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user did she just... hard launch???

↪ user i think???????

↪ user knowing y/n she kept him a secret just for the chaos 😂

georgerussell63 about time, mate!

↪ landonorris thanks a lot for making me lose my bet with george 🙄

↪ alex_albon what were you two even betting on?

↪ yourusername when i would get arrested and you'd have to defend me in court 😜 btw georgerussell63 i expect dinner from whatever lando needs to give you

alex_albon love you too (even if you exhaust me sometimes 🙃)

↪ yourusername don't lie, you like it 😘

user so now on top of dealing with y/n in court he has to deal with her every day 😭 thoughts and prayers dude

↪ yourusername i promised to behave in public if he lets me misbehave in private 😉

↪ alex_albon you call that behaving???

↪ landonorris ewww get a room

↪ yourusername get a win 🤷‍♀️

↪ georgerussell63 MIC. DROP.

↪ landonorris alex_albon can i hire you to sue y/n and george for emotional damage

↪ alex_albon i'm afraid that you're on your own 😔 i have no intention of stepping into a courtroom with y/n ever again

↪ yourusername guess who's sleeping on the couch tonight!

↪ alex_albon lando because he insists that we've adopted him?

↪ yourusername correct ✅

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

series masterlist | masterlist | lola's masterlist

taglist: @scenesofobx @vellicora @boiohboii @julesbabey @flannelforthetoads

[winterspellsfrozenkit]

Maomao's Dislike of Jinshi

So I've been watching Apothecary Diaries and I think people are missing out on the root cause of why Maomao doesn't like Jinshi's interactions with her. It's not because he's too pretty, of high standing, or because she thinks he's annoying/etc., as they're just parts that make up the actual root cause. It's because she knows he's being fake.

Jinshi, because of who he is, where he lives, and how he was raised, covers up his true intentions almost constantly. That was how he trapped Maomao and singled her out as the one who warned Concubine Gyokuyou, after all. The premise to get all the servants in the room, the note telling her to stay put, and making her come with him without telling her where they were going? He let her worry that she was in trouble, so to keep her off-balance when he introduced her to Gyokuyou and also had kept her note to keep her pinned in a corner so she would have to comply with what he and Gyokuyou wanted.

Maomao prefers working with honest people. It's why she never wanted to ascend into the ranks where court politics were a constant presence, because in court politics, you have to assume most people are lying to you on some level. That's why she likes Gyokuyou; Gyokuyou has a similar mentality about the importance of honesty in the people around her and she reciprocates that honesty with the select people she lets her walls down around. When Jinshi is flirting or being super sweet to someone, Maomao knows he's often not being sincere, so when he flirts or acts all sweet with her, she's not going to believe in the sincerity of it because it's dangerous for her if he's not being sincere.

In Maomao's world, a man who makes false promises will not have severe consequences for his actions, unlike the women who fall for them. Growing up where she did and doing the work she did, Maomao knows exactly what kind of damage someone else's lies can bring to someone else who got caught in them. Maomao is not blind to the ugly truths of the world around her, unlike many her age, so interacting with Jinshi, someone who is usually some level of false in almost every encounter with her, is frustrating to her and he won't leave her alone. Lies are a form of poison themselves as they deteriorate a person's life and relationships and if not caught, can lead someone to their death or a fate akin to death, but unlike physical toxins, Maomao can't fix any damage from that kind of societal poison. As someone who wants a lowkey and unremarkable life because it's more peaceful, Jinshi could damage her goals with his falsehoods if she falls for any of them.

And we see that when Jinshi is actually honest about himself and his feelings with her, she treats him better. When he gives her his hairpin, when he's hugging her and crying because of what happened with Ah-Duo, and when he's at the Verdigris House, drowning his sorrows over letting Maomao go from the Rear Palace, Maomao is kinder to him and doesn't look at him with the immediate disdain and suspicion she often throws his way. Maomao even states she prefers the Jinshi, who is more childlike and bratty, which is something we see Gaoshun constantly discourage when Jinshi has those moments where his mask breaks. But in those moments, he's being honest.

For the position of Maomao's love interest, Jinshi's already got one foot ahead of any other guy around Maomao, as he is willing to let Maomao have more freedom in her special interests and gives her things and access to areas that play into her interests, like her dad does, which is more than most men in her society would ever allow. The only reason he actively goes against her toying with poison is he knows exactly what she's going to do with the poisons. But his main hinderance to getting Maomao to like him back is the training of being two-faced that's been ingrained into him for his survival in court. If he was more honest with her, rather than hiding himself under the veneer of a pretty man who is sweet, gets along with everyone, and keeps his knowledge close to the chest, he'd do so much better in earning Maomao's respect and affection.

[grlpartdoll]

Azriel is quiet, yes, but not for the reasons people might think. It's not something he does to be mysterious — or to frighten others. Sure. It works well for that, too. But.. Truth is, he has been quiet all his life ; perhaps a symptom of always being belittled when he tried to speak up for himself, be that by his step brothers, his stepdad, or by Rhysand himself.

Azriel has never really had the luxury of having his own opinion. His life has been — for better or for worse — a binary code, 0, 1, a black and white painting, and an immense quantity of yes' and no's.

Since living with the shadows, he's had his step brothers to fear, and then when he goes into the camps, he has Cassian and Rhysand to fear — to watch his mouth around.

But of course, as the story is told, things change, and then before he knows it, he's following his new brothers into battle because even beneath it all, ignoring the fact that he has suspicions that he does not exactly belong within their troops, they're brothers, damnit, and he will walk through fire for them.

And then they grow up, and the war ends. He becomes Rhysand's father's spy, and he goes into that job without any beliefs of his own, his life built around trying to survive his abuse and then the Illyrian camps.

And when he and Cassian and Rhysand finally become old enough, and Rhysand takes the throne, well, at that point he's got an unbreakable devotion to the night court and the citizens within it, and to his brothers, too — beaten into him, caking under his nails like blood, running through his veins like some type of venom to which no one has the cure to.

But even then, when things begin to settle, and everyone finds their place in the Inner circle, he doesn't really know himself, doesn't know where his place truly is. Sure, he's devoted to something, and likes these people enough to forget himself, but. Who is he, really? What does he want? Where does he belong?

Which is why — when he meets you, something wild and free and immovable in your own beliefs and person, he can't help but find refuge there ; in your wild, unkempt person, in your loudness, your clinginess, your unashamedly huge heart.

You're a freshly born… something. The girl born from the Mother, they call you. You're created from the necessity of there being balance again in Prythian during Amarantha ; sent by the Mother to hunt the falsely crowned High Queen of Prythian, and then kill her.

For your service, after you've killed Amarantha and redistributed the power around to their respective High Lords, everyone takes an oath to protect and shelter you whenever you need it.

You spend years between Courts, refining your skills, your powers, enlisting the help of all the helpful High Lords and their Ladies. Rhysand and Feyre, after a few years and the war finally passing, both deem it safe enough and decide to introduce you to their inner circle. You're introduced to them as the person who saved Prythian, as the girl who freed Feyre and Rhysand from under the mountain.

You fall in love with Velaris, and you take a liking to the members of the inner circle. But you become closer friends with Azriel than anyone else you had ever met before.

You, from some kind of instinct or because of the unspoken link you share with Azriel, know he is lost. You are, perhaps, the first to see it.

It's easy to follow and do the same, you suppose. To copy you, devote himself to something new, something other.

But you don't want him to take you as just another thing to protect. To lose himself in. You don't want him to follow in your footsteps just because he has a personal debt unpaid to you for saving his family members, you don't want him to be to you what he is to Rhysand.

So at first, you reject him. And he takes it as well as a man like him takes any sort of rejection. He withdraws easily like a tortoise into its shell, and for a great many days, is unavailable emotionally as well as physically. You don't see him, don't hear from him.

Eventually, Feyre falls pregnant, and you're the one, with your powers, to save her and the two males along with it. Rhysand gifts you lands of your own for it. Drapes you with the honours of being their Saviour one more time.

So you go to that place — to your new home in the wild, unowned lands beside the prison — your paradisiacal islands, and begin building a life for yourself. You make your own home, on the highest cliff you can find. Rhysand provides you with workers and builders, and eventually, a tiny town begins to bloom in the islands. It's slow living, like water lapping at the shore, every member of your tiny budding city lives happily, feasting on their hunts, and on the plentiful fruits of their plantations.

Azriel comes around often by means of checking on you for Rhysand. And you accept it, even though it is a lie. Eventually, your friendship rebuilds again, though. And you know that there is no shifting point, no sudden change — but it sure feels like it, when one day you are standing miles apart, and the other, you're in his arms, letting him sway you to the sound of the waves.

The progression is slow, but as you coax him out, with a bit of rough love and a handful of gentle praise, you begin to see the little things.

His armour loosens by the day. Sometimes, when he comes to see you, meeting on the beach down the mountain where your home resides atop of, he wears only warm weather clothes. His truth teller is left behind, and he lets himself be free of what it means to be the ShadowSinger, while enhancing what it means to be HIM.

And one day you catch him drawing. He'd told you once that a lot of the things in his head often begged to get out, to find a way to be put down and kept down and out of him. You suggested drawing. And he'd huffed at first, shaking his head and murmuring about how his hands would never being able to draw up those things. Good or bad.

You'd smiled gently and shrugged ; telling him that practice made perfect — that you hadn't become good at what you do in a day, either.

The first drawing he finishes is a portrait of Velaris. As though it is something he is trying to purge from his soul — the hold this city has on him. He tries to give it to you, but you refuse. You tell him that this is a part of him and no one else should be allowed to own these drawings. That this is him, on paper, all these little sketches, and that he was the only, sole owner of them.

So he begins to put them up in the room you keep for him in your humble home atop the mountain peak. You take your time keeping them in extra good condition, and as you lay down on the sofa while he sketches you, he asks you why you spent so much of your days in his room, cleaning and removing dust, making sure everything was kept safe and remained beautiful.

And you reply that if they were precious to him, then that meant they deserved to be cherished. And it takes a moment for him to register that — sure, the inner circle loved — loves — him, in their own way, but he'd never been loved the way he needed it. Had never been so seen by someone. Rhysand saw him as his most trusted weapon, but never as the lover he could become. Rhysand did not see Azriel ever being a good lover to any of the women in his inner circle. He never saw him being good — whole — enough for it.

Cassian saw him as his brother in arms, he saw him as a man he could trust with his life when it came down to violence. But when it came to gentleness, Cassian did not. He did not blame him for it.

And Feyre, the woman he considered a sister, only saw him as the protector of her family. She had always been closer to Cassian, from them starving so young, and then finding a family of their own, they could relate. Azriel could not relate to her that way, and she knew it, too, which kept him an arm’s length from the true her.

And Mor — Mor saw him only when she felt it convenient for her.

But you. You cleaned those pieces of paper where horrors he’d seen with his own two eyes were depicted and did not flinch. You saw those happy moments, and did not ignore them, either. You did not pick and choose which sides of him you wanted. You appreciated him wholly like no one ever had.

Progress after that day only doubles.

He begins to stand up for himself. Says no to the missions he knows will only break him inside a little more when he is just starting to stitch up all his broken pieces.

He draws. And sings. At first, he sings only alone, in the vulnerability of his own room, for himself. It's a way to get his feelings out — again. But then one day you take him to the bar in Velaris during one of your stays there, and he decides to sing for you. He'd done it for himself first — because it made him happy, but now, he wanted to show you, too, that to the bottom of his soul, he was starting to find himself.

And when you cry as the song ends, he gathers you in his arms and rocks you until you can breathe steady again.

After that night, many things change.

He's away from you more, but when he is around, he's the happiest you've ever seen him be — as though a weight has finally been lifted off of his shoulders. He stays no longer than a day at a time, and each time he comes back, he brings you a new story to tell — a new discovery he's made about himself.

A year later, you're in your garden, knees in the dirt, knuckles deep in the roots of an orange tree when you hear the familiar flap of his wings in the distance. He lands outside the tiny fence you keep around the garden to limit wild bunnies munching on your fruits. He has a bag on his shoulder, no heavier than a few shirts and pants. No armour in sight. He smiles, tired and worn out, but no less free, and no less in love, and you don't question it. You only raise yourself to your naked feet and step towards him. He cups your face, and you smile, nuzzling in it, that warm, scarred hand.

“Welcome home.” You say, soft and gentle but as firm as you can make it.

He presses his forehead to yours, dips down, and kisses you.

The next morning, you wake up with sunshine lapping at your bare skin like waves, your opened french doors letting in salty sea air into the room, shifting the curtains forward and back. Your body is draped over Azriel’s, who holds you loosely at the waist, his face serene with his eyes closed and eyebrows softly curved upwards.

You trace the small smile on his lips with your longest finger. His lashes flutter, and his hazel eyes find yours. He massages your naked waist as he comes to, blinking a few times, bringing you in closer.

He touches you with reverence, with so much love it's dizzying. “I resigned from my place as Shadow Singer of the night court. I trained Nuala and Cerridwen to take my place.” He announces after a few kisses that steal the air from you.

You don't say anything because you know that at this point in time, he doesn't need your approval, or your point of view on it. He'd done this for himself, and you were beyond proud of him for choosing himself above his prior court for once.

After that day, Azriel finds himself a place in your own little world. In that community you're growing in the mountains. He doesn't leave for Velaris anymore, and when you're called in, he will join you only rarely. Not in an attempt to forget — but because he does not feel the need to. He sees Rhysand and Cassian every month, and Feyre comes up with Nesta and Gwyn and Emerie and Elain sometimes to see you, maybe once every two months, to have a girls night of sorts.

And eventually, years down the line, your little community continues to flourish. You work hard to build a safe heaven for the people that trust you — that up and left their own courts to find you. Some people from the night court, others from spring, and a grand majority from other islands faraway.

Your home builds itself so beautifully over time, that the other courts agree to count your Island as the last court of Prythian — as a sign of respect, and some kind of political grant you don't truly understand.

You don't delude yourself into thinking you're any sort of High Lady, but as you see Azriel helping your citizens with their farms, deep brown skin tanned and slick with sweat instead of blood, playing with the kids with that beautiful, beaming smile on his face, shadows dispersing to trick and make toddlers and youngsters alike giggle, helping fix homes up after rather rough storms hit your village, you think that he'd make a perfect High Lord.

[thatacotargirl]

Hi there, still accepting requests? For some reason I'm in the mood for some classic Elriel angst 🥺 maybe where Inner Circle reader loves her best friend Azriel and secretly knows that they are mates, but he was always in love with Mor and now seems smitten over Elain, so she's scared to tell him in case she gets rejected, and she doesn't want him to feel forced to be with her because of the bond, but he finally realises (maybe when reader is about to give up on him and go on a date with someone else or leave the night court) and they get their cutesy happy ending together 😊

Hi there! I absolutely am, thank you for the request! I’m a fluffy writer at heart so this is my first attempt at any kind of angst - I hope I do your request justice!

Inbox is always open for requests ❤️

Divider is from @tsunami-of-tears , you are an absolute genius! Thank you for making such beautiful dividers ❤️

Misunderstandings

An Reader x Azriel one shot

"AZ!"

You hear screeching laughter from the library of the House of Wind and you feel your heart crack, your stomach drop, and your head spin, knowing exactly who that laughter is coming from. The strawberry pastry in your hand drops to the floor as you pop your head around the door, careful not to be seen, and see Elain balancing precariously on Azriel's shoulder. Azriel, who is known for his reserved nature, his lack of comfort for physical touch, has Elain hoisted on his shoulders and is guiding her towards the bookshelves so she can reach the book she is looking for. Only, he keeps pretending to trip, or to drop her, or to forget she's there - making her scream and grasp onto his arms tightly. In other words, he is flirting with her.

You feel tears pricking in your eyes as you slowly back away and close the door quietly behind you, desperate to not hear the laughter any more.

When you had felt the bond snap with Azriel 75 years ago, your heart had soared. You had harboured a crush on the Shadowsinger since the first moment you met him and to know he was your Cauldron destined mate had been the best moment of your life. Only, the bond snapped one-sided, and Azriel had yet to realise. Sometimes you would tug on that little golden thread, other times you'd yank on it harshly, hoping for any sort of reaction from him, for him to realise who you were. But nothing.

Instead, you watched as Azriel pursued an unrequited crush on Mor for centuries. She had no idea that you were mates, the only person that knew was Rhysand - and likely Feyre by extension. She didn't know how much it hurt to watch Azriel follow her around, his eyes full of metaphorical hearts. You saw the pitying looks from Rhysand every night at Ritas when Azriel would make a sly attempt at garnering Mor's attention, his back turned to you.

You and Azriel had always been close, he was easily the best friend that you had ever had. You could fall into comfortable silences with each other, neither of you particularly extroverted people, especially not by comparison to the rest of your family. But there was always a very clear line in your friendship and it was never once crossed. You'd hug, if the situation warranted it, you'd sit next to each other at meals and on the sofa, he'd help you if you asked; but you knew he didn't see you the same way that he saw Mor.

And now, Elain.

You had caught the pair of them in the kitchen just last week, laughing and covered in flour as he watched Elain bake. You saw them sat shoulder to shoulder in Azriel's study late at night, giggling over who knows what. Azriel had never looked this happy before.

You didn't realise you were crying outside the library door until you felt a hand on your shoulder and the sensation of winnowing around you. When you looked up, you were in Rhysand's office and clasped to his chest.

"I'm so sorry, y/n. I told him to stay away from her, on account of her being a mated female, I thought he'd listen".

You could do nothing but cry harder. His feelings for Elain surpassed even an order from Rhysand - and Azriel never defied Rhysand. You heard the door open but didn't look up, too busy soaking Rhysand's shirt in tears. You felt someone pull you towards them and your body was engulfed in another, large male. You would know Cassian's scent from anywhere.

"He's a fool, y/n", Cassian whispered into your hair. You looked up at him, and then glared at Rhysand.

"I didn't tell him!", Rhysand said, holding up his hands in innocence.

"He didn't have to tell me, y/n. I figured it out a long time ago - for a Spymaster, I'm amazed he's so damn clueless".

You only cried harder, your head on Cassian's chest, mindful of his siphon. He held you whilst you wept, slowly guiding you both to the sofa in Rhysand's office.

"I don't think I can do this anymore, Rhys".

"Do what?"

"Stand by and watch him fall in love with every female that isn't me".

Both Rhysand and Cassian looked at each other, concern marring their faces.

"What are you saying, y/n?".

"I need to leave, Rhys".

You didn't know how long you intended to leave the Night Court for. Rhysand had spoken with Tarquin and had agreed that you would go to the Summer Court. You would find a home and work there, and Tarquin would allow you to stay for as long as you wanted - forever, if that was your decision. He had even lifted the ban on Cassian, allowing him to visit, but only if supervised by you at all times. You had formally resigned from your role as Night Court emissary and began packing your bags.

Mor and Feyre, teary-eyed, sat on your bed watching you pack - Mor secretly pulling out clothes from your suitcase so you'd have to re-fold them and stay longer.

"Mor".

"Please don't leave us, y/n. Azriel is an idiot, he's not worth leaving over".

You had told them about your mating bond with Azriel. Nesta and Amren also knew. But you'd been careful not to tell Azriel or Elain. You didn't want Azriel to leave Elain just to be with you because of the mating bond - you wanted him to be with you because he loved you. But he didn't. He loved her.

"I have to, Mor. It's time I get some space and find my own feet again. All these years have been taken up by Azriel and waiting for him - I deserve more than that".

She sighed, her head hanging in resignation. She knew you were right.

As you put the last of your clothes in the suitcase, you moved it to the door where your boxes waited to be transported to the Summer Court. You heard a knock, expecting Rhysand, but opened the door to a grinning Elain.

"Hi y/n! I was just wondering if you wanted to go..."

Elain looked from you to the suitcase, to the boxes, to Mor and Feyre's tear-stained faces, and then back to you.

"What's going on?".

"I'm going away for a little bit - just to the Summer Court. But you can visit, and I'm sure I'll visit here again".

Elain's lip wobbled.

"For how long?".

Feyre couldn't hold back her sob and at that moment, Elain realised you might be leaving forever.

"Why?".

You wanted to tell her the truth, but her sweet face made it hard to be angry at her. She didn't choose this. She didn't know that Azriel was your mate. She is just a young female thrown into a new world and making the best of it.

"Just need a change of scenery", you reply, forcing a smile on your face. You watch as Elain's face changed from heartbroken to panic-stricken, and she ran from the room.

"I think maybe that was one change too many for her", Mor sighs.

"I'll go after her", Feyre says, standing from the bed. She pulls you in for one last, long hug and flies from the room, hiding the new batch of tears streaming down her face. You see Rhysand standing in the doorway, his hand outstretched to you.

"Ready?".

You nod, taking his hand in yours and feeling his powers fill the room as he winnows you to Adriata, the Summer Court, your new home. You felt a lightness take hold of your body that had been missing for the last 75 years. A sense of calm and peace. Your heart was broken, but it could heal, you could find yourself again and feel happiness and joy at the small things in life, things you sorely missed.

But, if you'd have tugged on that golden thread one last time, you'd have felt Azriel's answering pull back.

Elain thundered through the House of Wind and up the stairs to the training ring on the roof. She burst the door open to see Azriel lighting the last of the candles that surrounded the picnic blanket, rose petals littered the floor, and a strawberry pastry sat on a plate in the middle. Azriel knew they were your favourite, and knew it had to be the food he offered you for the mating bond.

"AZ, SHE'S GONE".

Azriel whipped his head to the door to see a dishevelled Elain standing there, red in the face and out of breath.

"Gone where?"

"The Summer Court, she's left the Night Court, Az".

Azriel felt his heart sink. He had only felt the bond snap a few weeks ago and had been planning this night ever since. Elain, his new friend and confidant, had been helping him. She had helped Azriel find and read your favourite romance novels in the library to know what you liked from a partner, she had helped Azriel learn how to bake your favourite pastry so it would be perfect for you when you accepted the mating bond, she had taught him calligraphy so he could write you the love notes he knew you swooned over, the pair of them giggling at Azriel's attempts to be a hopeless romantic, and failing terribly.

He never imagined that you would leave before he could tell you how much he loved you. That you would leave without even saying goodbye.

His head reeled as he stumbled backwards. Without a second thought, he took to the sky, wings beating harder than they ever had before, towards the Summer Court.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Tarquin". You were in awe of the home he had provided for you in Adriata. A beachfront, two-story home decorated to the nines in shells and pearls. It was glorious.

"It is my pleasure, y/n. Please, do enjoy everything that my Court has to offer. This particular beach gives a beautiful view of the sunset".

With that, Tarquin departed - allowing you time to process your move and absorb your new surroundings. You walked down to the ocean, your beautiful new sundress blowing gently in the breeze, and felt the water flow up to your mid-calves. It was pleasantly warm, heated by a day of sunshine, as you watched dusk start to coat the horizon.

That was, until something crash landed in the ocean in front of you.

Before you were able to turn back and run, you noticed a black membrane bob up out of the water, followed by a blazing blue siphon. You heart stuttered as you watched Azriel swim as fast as he could to you.

"Y/n", he breathed, his hair matted to his face with sweat and salt water. In his hand, you noticed a soggy, crumbled, almost entirely disintegrated strawberry pastry. Gaping, you watched Azriel offer the pile of mush to you.

"Az?"

"I.... love.... you", he heaved, trying to catch his breath.

But you were pretty sure you stopped breathing altogether. You heard more noises behind you, and turned to see your entire Night Court family there, having been winnowed in by Rhys, Feyre and Mor.

"What is going on?".

Rhys stepped forward and offered you his hand.

"Let me show you". So you did.

Once joined, Rhys entered your mind and showed you memories from Elain and Azriel's minds. You saw the moment the bond snapped for Azriel, the grin that had taken over his face when he realised, the sheer excitement she had felt at knowing two of her friends were mated. You saw the conversation between them - Azriel asking her to teach him how to make your favourite strawberry pastry. You saw, from their eyes, what they were giggling about at Azriel's desk - the poorly written love notes, all addressed to you. You saw the book Elain was reaching for in the library from Azriel's shoulders - your favourite romance - and how they studied your tabs and highlighting like their life depended on it. You saw the picnic. You saw Azriel's heartbroken face when Elain told him that you had left.

As Rhys withdrew, you realised that you were crying. When you looked up, you realised you weren't the only one, your entire family was in tears - Cassian near blubbering into Nesta's hair.

Azriel loved you.

You turned to face him, still completely sodden and holding out the mush to you. You took it, grimacing slightly, and shoved the entire pile of it into your mouth.

"I love you too".

Azriel flew at you, grabbed you into his arms and kissed you like he would never get another chance. You dropped your shield and felt the bond overflowing with love, Azriel pushing all of his emotions to you, almost knocking the breath out of you once more.

"Come home?", he asked quietly.

You nodded, leaning in to kiss him again. Then paused.

"But, maybe in a couple of weeks?". Azriel looked at you with confusion, before his eyes suddenly darkened, a feral look overtaking his face.

"Aaaaannnddd, that's our cue to go", Cassian laughed, your family all grappling at each other to get out of there quickly, not wanting a front row seat to your show.

You paid no attention as you let Azriel lift you into his arms and carry you towards the beachfront house. You simply smiled, feeling comfort in the fact that, maybe, everything really was going to be ok.

[blackopals-world]

The Missing Card

Introducing: Jester!Yuu

(You have no idea that I've had this image saved for over a year and a half and I'm so excited to finally use it. Call me a clown fucker if you want I'm in love.)

It's about time we finish the Heartslabyul card deck.

A "standard" deck of playing cards consists of 52 Cards in each of the 4 suits of Spades, Hearts, Diamonds, and Clubs. Each suit contains 13 cards: Ace, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, Jack, Queen, King.

But something is missing.

A card that despite what you think isn't in the traditional deck at least not originally. A blank card printed by mistake that became something more.

The Jocker had made its way to the deck and now the trump card that either makes or breaks the game lives on.

There is a special rule at Heartslabyul. One that Riddle loaths to acknowledge. The contradiction to everything he knows.

It is the Jester's privilege to be exempt from the rules of the courts.

It's a rule that many don't read and it's for the best that no one knows how to be a Jester.

What is a court without its fool?

They met at exactly 12 pm during afternoon tea.

They sat sideways in the queen's chair happily eating tarts.

"You! How dare you sit in my chair and show such flagrant disrespect for the rules of this dorm!" Riddle shouted pointing at the colorfully dressed student.

Said student looked over the table at the group of assembling crowd of students who were arriving for the tea party.

Smiling wildly they did a somersault across the table and landed in front of the drom leader.

"I have arrived my queen! Your new and approved jester of your court!" They said spinning before falling into a low bow. The bells and ribbons braided into the hair fluttering around them.

Riddle got a good look at this "jester" and they certainly looked the part. The star painted over their eye and the black and red costume fit Heartslabyul like a glove. Their upper lip was painted black and their lower a bright scarlet. It was garish but beautiful.

"Approved? Who approved a clown like you to be a jester!" Riddle ordered.

Ace and Deuce looked in opposite directions as he said this.

It wasn't intentional but Ace and Deuce had run into a street performer in the town near the school.

"Come one, come all and see the show!" They said balancing on a giant ball juggling pins.

They sang, did tricks, played music, did magic tricks, and all around entertained the crowd.

Ace and Deuce were mystified by the show so much they ended up watching the whole thing.

When it ended the performer tanked everyone as they began to pack up.

"Hey, where did you learn those tricks?"Ace didn't want to miss the chance to learn a few new card tricks.

"You must be an amazing wizard! I didn't even see you wave a wand!" Deuce innocently.

"Dude, they obviously just used tricks and not magic." Ace sighed.

The performer laughed. They told them they did shows to earn money while at school.

"It's easy to put on a show but real magic isn't something I can do. Sucks when you go to a magic college but I think it's fun." They smiled.

"Wait you go to NRC? I've never seen you before." Ace asked trying to remember their face.

"Ace? What are you talking about? We sit next to each other in Trein's class." They covered their mouth giggling.

Suddenly it clicked.

"Yuu?! You're Yuu?!" Ace yelled incredulously.

Yuu was just some quiet kid that didn't say much. The only thing that stood out about them was just how dull they were. Not that Ace said that to them. Yuu kind of just blended into the background.

"In the flesh!~♡ I was wondering when you'd notice." They said cheerfully.

"Well you are always with Grimm it's hard to put it together," Ace said rubbing his neck

"Yeah, you don't stand out at all otherwise-" Deuce began before Ace slapped his hand over his mouth.

"It's okay, I know how people see me. But I can hardly walk around in costume around campus no matter how fun it sounds." Yuu pouted absent-mindedly shuffling a deck of cards that appeared out of nowhere. "If I could go all out and do shows whenever school would be more fun."

"You're telling me. Having a personal clown would make Riddle's scolding bearable. Man that would be funny if you'd pie him in the face." Ace cackled at the thought. "You'd make a good...what's it called...oh, a fool."

"A fool? You mean like a royal jester?" Yuu asked pursing their lips in thought.

"Yeah, you could really take Riddle down a peg if you were. Honestly, morale gets so low when he's in a bad mood. He needs to have more fun." Ace ranted unknowingly giving Yuu an idea.

Deuce nodded in agreement as he examined Yuu props. The top hat looked pretty cool on him.

"Actually that sounds fun. I think I'll make a great jester!" Yuu laughed heartily.

They had no idea what chaos they had welcomed to Heartslabyul.

[kaiijo]

the first years crushing on you

characters: ace, deuce, jack, epel, sebek notes: gn! reader other crushes: housewardens

ace trappola

When Ace likes you, there’s a lot of back and forth banter and teasing between the two of you. He’s a bit mean, but he knows (or at least, he hopes he knows) that you don’t take it to heart. He likes to talk a big game but Ace is kind of hopeless when it comes to romancing someone. Such a showoff for you.

Because your clubs meet on different days, Ace often bugs you to come to practices. Most times you say no since you use your free time to catch up on studying or to do preparation for your next club meeting, but today’s different and you take up Ace’s offer to watch practice.

There’s a practice game going on when you enter the gym, shoes squeaking against the polished wood floors. Jamil and Ace drive down the court, shouting and dribbling. As you sit down in the bleachers, you watch Jamil pass the ball to Ace, who notices you out of the corner of his eye. He bounces the ball twice and says, “This one’s for you!” Without even looking at you, you know who he’s talking to.

It’s also at the exact moment that Floyd chooses to take the game seriously, crouching down into a defensive position from his previously lazy stand, eyes gleaming with mischief. Ace aims and shoots and the ball, predictably, is blocked when Floyd jumps up.

“Too bad, crabby,” he jeers and Ace scowls at him. Jamil looks exasperated as he throws a look at you that tells you to fix whatever you started.

“Don’t worry, Ace,” you yell. “You’re always a winner in my heart!”

deuce spade

When Deuce realizes that he likes you as more than a friend, he stops being able to function normally around you. He’s dropping things left and right, stuttering and tripping over most of the things he says to you, and he’s some shade of pink constantly.

Deuce never wished for the ground to swallow him whole more than this moment. He’s standing, frozen, in horror, staring at the tea that drips down the front of your white uniform shirt. Now, this problem is two-fold; one, that’s Riddle tea — or, it was — and Deuce’s sure Riddle’s going to have it out for him, and two, he spilled it on you, the person he likes so much and just can’t seem to do anything right around.

Deuce scrambles to get napkins, the force of his pulling causing the container to topple off the table and skitter across the dorm floor.

“Hey, Deuce,” you say and he steels himself for your ire, for you to tell him you never want to ever talk to him, look at him, or breathe the same air as him. It never comes and instead you smile gently and say, “It’s okay, it’s laundry day tomorrow anyways.”

“I’m really sorry!” he finally blurts out.

“It’s seriously okay,” you say. Then, you add, “Let’s brew another pot before Riddle notices.”

“Notice what, exactly?” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Deuce, however, doesn’t feel the impending doom he expected. All he can focus on is the little wink you give him and his face blooms a bright pink.

jack howl

Because beastmen usually have one partner they’re with for their whole lives, Jack is very discerning about crushes so if he likes you, you’re definitely a special person. Jack tries his best to act casually around you but the excited twitch of his ear and the rapid tail wagging is a dead giveaway. Plus, he puts in a little more effort into whatever he’s doing when you’re around (like Ace, he’s a big showoff around you).

“Are you sure you’re okay with carrying all that?” you ask Jack as the two of you make your way to class. He nods, head still visible over the mountain of boxes. You were running an errand for the librarian when Jack found you struggling to balance the massive pile, swiftly moving to take the entire stack from you.

You have to walk up five flights of stairs to bring the books to the correct section, and Jack does so with ease, the two of you chatting on your way up. You ask about his siblings, watching fondly as he perks up. He asks about your parents and how your grandmother’s health is. You’re surprised he remembers.

“Okay, you can put them down there,” you say, pointing at a table and Jack sets them down.

“Need my help with anything else,” Jack asks, trying his best to subtly puff out his chest.

You consider it for a moment and say, “Yeah, I could use your height.”

Jack resists the urge of his inner wolf to howl proudly, but his wagging tail give everything away. 

epel felmier

Epel can’t decide what approach to take with you, if he wants to try to show you his manliness or if he wants to use his cute charm to win you over. He shows a very keen interest in things that you like — he watches shows and reads books that you like so you can talk about them together and he practices activities that you like so he can do them together.

Epel clutches the novel close to his chest, scanning the crowded cafeteria for you. He bristles when some Savanclaw meathead brushes past him roughly, scoffing like it was Epel’s fault. Epel rolls his eyes, glancing down at the book in hand. It’s over five-hundred pages and between school work and Spelldrive practice, it’s a miracle he finished it so quickly. That’s Pomefiore for you, tenacious to the end.

He finds you as you come in with some of your friends and darts for you. He calls your name and you wave at him. “Hey!” You peel off from your group and approach him, smiling widely.

You notice the book in his hand and gasp, “Is that the new book in the Paladin’s Sword series?”

“Yeah!” Epel leaves through the pages and says, “I really enjoy them!”

“Me too!” You ask him, “Have you seen the movies?”

Epel considers lying (he hadn’t lied about liking the books, he did wind up actually enjoying the series) but he shakes his head. You nod sagely and say, “Let’s watch them together sometime then!”

Epel’s heart skips a beat.

sebek zigvolt

Sebek goes to Lilia for advice on what to do about a crush, and given that Lilia is centuries old, the advice is a little old-fashioned. Sebek walks you to classes and brings you bouquets and gives you secret admirer notes that are a little clumsy and awkward, but so Sebek that it’s endearing.

Sebek watches anxiously out of the corner of his eye as you slide an eggshell white envelope out from your textbook. Ace and Deuce “ooh” and “ahh” and tease you over it, Deuce suggesting, “Maybe it’s a secret admirer.”

Ace shakes his head. “Who’d like this one?”

Sebek’s eyes narrow. How dare Ace believe that you were undeserving of affection? Didn’t he know that you were so special and incredible, second in Sebek’s heart only to Malleus? The audacity! How dare he?

Deuce snickers, “Stranger things have happened.”

That’s when Sebek slams his hands down on the desk in front of him and shouts, “HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO THEM THAT WAY, HUMANS? DON’T YOU KNOW THAT THERE’S ONLY ONE BEING ALIVE MORE SPECTACULAR THAN THEM — THE YOUNG MASTER HIMSELF!”

Well, that’s certainly not how he wanted to confess to you, and his heart sinks to his stomach at the deafening silence in the room. When he glances at you, you’re beaming, and his he look art is afloat once more.

[cinnamonrollang3l]

♡~Neediness~♡

(Watch me literally disappear again after posting this, and yes it's another Neuvillette x reader because this man is SO DAMN FINE.)

◇Warnings: Fingering, caressing, pet names, marking, flirty?, ect since I'm lazy and didn't finish *Sorry :(*

•~This is a Neuvillette x needy reader~●

¡!Minors don't interact👹!¡

~Anyways enjoy this lovely evening with Neuvillette ;)~

□Apologies for the mistakes English isn't my native language so grammar might be crappy!□

~◇~◇~◇~◇~◇~◇~◇~◇~◇~◇~◇~◇~◇~◇

You and Neuvillette had a pretty well balanced relationship with each other full of love, affection, and a good amount of intimacy with each other. There were times you did get needy but it wasn't too bad, except this time... Neuvillette was working in his office dealing with more papers as usual while once again you were roaming around the peaceful court of Fontaine. It felt empty and all you wanted to do was spend time with your beloved boyfriend Neuvillette. After walking around for a while you finally decided to walk up to his office, you open the door and quietly closed it behind you. Neuvillette who was sitting at his desk continued writing and stayed focused on the papers, you didn't know if he was just ignoring you or he genuinely was too focused to even realize his lover was standing right in front of him. You sighed softly and put a hand on his desk looking at him.

"Neuvillette..?" You said softly but behind that soft voice was a very needy girlfriend/boyfriend. Neuvillette looks up at you and puts his pen down. "Yes darling?" He responded with a sweet voice as he looked into your eyes. "Well.." you got fidgety with your fingers and Neuvillette knew something was off. He stood up from his seat and walked over to you. "Is something wrong my love?" He moved closer to you and grabbed you by the waist, this made you feel nervous and he could tell. A soft smirk appeared on his face as he pressed his body against yours as he knew exactly what was happening. "I see exactly how it is darling.. You've gotten pretty needy haven't you?" He spoke in a lower tone that made you weak at the knees especially with the state you were in now.

"Maybe..?" You said with a soft blush creeping upon your face. This made his smirk grow wider as his hands gently moved up and down on your sides. Neuvillette then picked you up by the waist and set you down on top of his desk. You looked at him nervously and spoke up "what are you doing Neuvillette..?" He didn't say anything he just looked into your eyes before kissing you, this kiss was sweet just like the rest of them but this time it was different.. it seemed more rough and passionate than they usually were. Without hesitation his tongue slid against yours causing you to let out a weak moan, he watched you desperately grind against his desk as he continued to make out with you. With his other hand he caressed your thigh slowly moving up. "Getting impatient now are we~?" You looked at him with a soft sigh since he had clearly neglected you these past few days. "I know... I'm sorry darling but I can't help but enjoy when you get so needy..~" you then realized the door to his office wasn't even locked and he noticed your gaze shift over to the door. "Love.. What if someone catches us.?" You spoke in a unsure tone, his lips curve into a soft smirk. "Oh sweet girl... I don't have any visits planned so don't worry about it~" his tone was practically laced with honey and his words made you tremble even if they were as simple as 'I love you'.

his hands then slide right back up to your waist and unbuttoned your bottoms sliding them down quickly, his warm breath caressed your thighs made you shiver slightly. His gaze shifts over from your pants on the floor to your thighs that had a sticky residue from your juices when he made out with you earlier, he chuckled softly and looks into your eyes. "My, my, so sticky down there darling~" His hands went back to your waist quickly pulling down your panties too, without warning or hesitation at all 2 of his fingers easily slid right inside you causing you to let out another weak moan along with his name. "N-Neuvillette~!" He just listened to your whimpers and continued to slide his fingers in and out, your little moans were like music to him. After a while, Neuvillette then pulled his fingers out causing you to let out a soft gasp, he then licked his fingers making sure none of your precious juices went to waste. Neuvillette looks back at you and kisses you tenderly on the lips. "Your doing so good for me so far~ soon we'll be at the best part.." He kissed you one last time on the lips then picked you up and bent you over the desk.

(I apologize but I've been busy so follow so you can see more, I'm done writing this post but I will take requests ♡)

[thesithdiaries]

In The Shadows (Harwin Strong imagine)

In The Shadows (Harwin Strong imagine)

Pairing: Harwin Strong x second-born female Targaryen!reader

Requested: yes, by @astraljedi

Warnings: just overall mutual pining, spoilers for the first episode of hotd, being followed by a drunk man

-

Y/N was the second daughter of King Viserys and Queen Aemma. Life in King’s Landing was never dull, in fact, it was always chaotic. Before their mother’s passing, her older sister, Rhaenyra was always trying to find new things to do. Riding dragons was fun but she needed other things to bond with her sister. Therefore, they started learning more about their home. Secret passages, hidden places, ways to sneak out undetected. Their uncle, Daemon, was more than willing to share the information. Y/N had a way with words and knew exactly what to say to get him to agree, even though he was going to tell them regardless. He has never denied them anything.

As the attention fell on Rhaenyra for being named heir after Aemma's and Baelon’s death, Y/N was pleased to do what she desired. It stung, at first, but she knew that being second in line meant that her chances were minimum. To spare her future grief, Viserys had mentioned marriage quite a few times, but Y/N always paid no mind to his suggestions. There was no need to make haste, she was content with her life at that moment.

For this particular reason, Y/N loved leaving the Keep at night to be by herself, away from the whispers from the court. Most of the time, she walked around the city, hiding in the shadows to stay away from the men of the City Watch.

It was a noisy night, like usual. Y/N had decided to watch a play. In all honesty, it did describe what happened behind the walls of the Keep well. It was tasteless at times, but she thought it was best for the people to learn about it this way.

The play was describing the issue of who was the rightful heir, Y/N tried to concentrate and try to have fun, but she felt someone staring at her. It made her feel uneasy, maybe it was nothing. Minutes later, the feeling did not fade. Her heart started beating uncontrollably when she turned her head slowly and saw a man staring at her. Without drawing too much attention to herself, she managed to slip away from that area. The man noticed, the drunken fog had not settled entirely. 

Y/N ran for her life. The man was not letting up, he was determined. As she was looking back, she bumped into a hard, cold chest. Strong hands grabbed her forearms, preventing her from losing her balance. 

“And what are you running from, girl?” A deep voice asked. Y/N stood frozen, she knew that voice. Keeping her head down, she tried to shake free from his grasp to no avail. He was not letting go. “Enough. Tell me why you were running.”

There was no doubt in her mind that the drunken man caught up to her. Feeling defeated, Y/N looked up. It was Ser Harwin Strong. He was appalled.

“Princess," he breathed out, “What are you doing beyond the walls of the Keep?” Y/N shook her head, finally looking behind her. They were the only ones standing in the dark alley, it did not stop the panic from bubbling inside her. Harwin seemed to catch on, quickly moving her to another private area. The air felt tense, Harwin was breathing heavily, trying to stop himself from losing his temper. “Princess…," he started, taking a deep breath. “It is dangerous for you to be out so late, especially without protection. If I had not been here, someone could have hurt you.”

Y/N was quiet, arms wrapped around herself. She truly felt disappointed that she got caught but relieved that it was him and not someone else.

“I am escorting you back to the Keep,” he declared, extending his arm to let her walk first. However, she did not move. “Princess, please.”

“No,” Y/N hissed. “I am not going back with you.” 

Harwin was aghast. “You need to be in the Keep, it is not safe here,” he desperately repeated. 

“I have been doing this for many moons, Ser Harwin, I do not need your help. I know what I am doing and where I am going.” The Princess was looking straight at him, serious. “Continue to do your duties and leave me be.” He opened his mouth to ask her, once again, to go with him but she spoke first. “I order you to leave me alone, at once.”

Harwin wanted to disobey. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and carry her back, yet he decided against it. “As you wish,” he muttered in defeat, finally walking away.

-

There was a knock on her door the following morning. Y/N felt a fluttering in her stomach. Excitement, perhaps? 

“Come” she called out.

Standing up from her dressing table, she peeked towards the door to see who walked in. The fluttering intensified. It was him.

“Ser Harwin, what a pleasure,” Y/N smiled, walking towards him. “Is there something you need?”

“We need to talk,” he grunted, partially annoyed by her cheeky attitude.

“We do?” She replied, laughing softly. Harwin scoffed, now he was mad.

“Yes, we do!” He cut the distance between him, standing close to her body. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Gods be good, he’s so handsome. “What you did last night was unacceptable and you cannot do it again.”

Y/N cocked her head to the side, grinning. “If I am not mistaken, you have no right to tell me what I can or cannot do.”

“Princess, you need to understand the severity of what you do,” Harwin begged. “Why must you be so stubborn!”

“Because I do what I want, whenever I want”

Harwin took off his helmet, throwing it on the chair. He grabbed Y/N’s chin, pulling her face closer to his. Her eyes widened, what is he doing? “Stay in the Keep.”

“No.”

He let go of her face and moved away, running his hands through his soft hair. “You are aggravating!” He growled. “For once, listen to me!”

Y/N sat down, placing her feet on the table, looking unbothered. “No.”

“Then let me be your escort if you desire to go out at night," Harwin cried out. 

Y/N sighed loudly. “I will consider it.”

-

She did not consider it in the slightest.

Two days passed and she left the Keep again. 

Y/N was occupied while buying from different merchants. Many trinkets to use as gifts for her family. It was going well until she felt it. Someone was staring.

After saying her farewells to the kind couple she bought from and promising to return, she walked towards an alley and waited. 

A short minute later, a tall, brooding silhouette approached her.

“You just do not want to lose, Ser Harwin.” Deep down in her heart, Y/N was glad he was there.

“I am just doing my job, Princess. My job is to keep you safe," he reminded her while taking off his helmet. “I knew you did not consider my proposal to be your escort.” And he also knew she would try to sneak out. Harwin waited for her to make her escape and followed her from a safe distance. The thought of the Princess leaving by herself was not to his liking.

Y/N placed her bag on top of a barrel. “Enough of this.”

She grabbed his armor softly and pulled him towards her, finally kissing him. Harwin was startled for a second before he relaxed, bringing her closer to his body. His lips were surprisingly soft and he tasted of wine. His hands were holding her face. It was glorious.

They eventually pulled apart, resting their foreheads together. The alley was quiet, the only sound was their breathing. The Princess smiled, making Harwin's heart flutter.

“Now will you let me escort you?”

“No.”

She giggled when she felt Harwin push her against a wall, kissing her again. If this is what would happen every time they left the Keep together, then she might just say yes to his proposal.

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part V

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge, huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who literally deserves all the credit and whose post inspired me to start writing this. I could not stop thinking about this head canon, and it was so kind of you to let me try and make a story from it :) And a huge thank you to everyone reading!

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe

Part VI >>

Jesminda had been killed on a night like this, Lucien thought. 

The sky had been clear of any clouds, a blue so deep it was nearly violet. Stars had sparkled to life in the distance, and Lucien had been able to see them, jewel-bright, when he had looked out of the arched windows of the throne room. 

His father had been wearing a crown of golden oak leaves, his brothers had held him down with rough hands, and Lucien had begged for his lover’s life to be spared. 

Lucien had turned his head in the end, a betrayal in itself, but watching Jesminda’s execution would have been unbearable. Her screams, sharp and grating like knives on marble, still haunted his worst nightmares. Lucien knew he had failed Jesminda then, the female he had claimed with such certainty as his mate. 

When the High Lord’s guards had taken him from the dungeons, Lucien had been quick to think that Eris had been unable to convince their father of sending him back to the Night Court. The Mother’s scales of justice balancing once more for what happened to Jesminda, a sense of fairness to it all. 

Not for a moment had Lucien even considered that Elain, lovely and quiet and sheltered Elain, had prompted his release from the suffocating cell in the deepest parts of the Forest House. 

Alarm choked him at the feeling of Elain pulling at the thread connecting them, horror gripping him as the memories of Jesminda flashed clear as river water in his mind. 

Lucien’s eyes met Elain’s from across the room and her unease washed over him. 

She looked out of place in Autumn, the light blue dress she wore more fitting in Spring or Day, Lucien thought. Loose curls framed her beautiful face, lips parting in surprise and relief. Her slippered feet made no sound as she took a few careful steps towards him, eyes flicking desperately from his injuries to his bound wrists. 

Elain was an excellent actress, Lucien noticed. If not for the emotions of dread and apprehension flooding their bond, even Lucien would have been convinced at how well she played the part of a concerned mate. 

“Lucien,” Elain called, her voice cracking in distress. 

The way his name rolled off her tongue clashed loudly in Lucien’s ears, metal against metal. He wanted to be near her, he wanted her to be as far away from Autumn as possible. Both reactions warred within his mind. 

Why was Elain in the Autumn Court? 

Lucien could not find it in him to believe that Feyre and Nesta would have let their sister throw herself into unquestionable danger for a male she barely talked to. Rhysand must have considered him a very important emissary if he was willing to risk Elain’s life. 

Elain looked like she would rush to him, and Lucien wondered if she could feel the bond’s pull just as he did. Lucien only noticed that Eris was standing beside Elain when his eldest brother put out his arm to prevent her from moving. 

He was unable to stop the low snarl from escaping his lips, the guards tightening their hold on him. Who else would be to blame for Elain’s arrival in the Forest House but Eris, Lucien asked himself. He silently prayed that if anything happened to his mate, Rhysand would do him the favour of ending Eris’s miserable existence. 

“Look, Lucien,” his father’s voice rang out in the near-empty space. “Your mate has come for you.” Lucien turned his attention to Beron with great effort. He did not want to take his eyes off Elain for a moment, barely trusting his own senses.

His father’s grin was cruel, almost knowing, as he waited for Lucien to respond. When Lucien kept quiet, Beron shrugged, not deterred by the silence. Lucien saw as his mother tightened her grip on the armrest of her throne, knuckles white. 

“Your mate wrote to Eris, her words bleeding with concern for you, my son.” Lucien had to hold his back straight so as not to rear back at the words. Beron had not addressed him as such in decades. 

Lucien was trying to piece everything together, knowing that he was missing valuable information that would prove navigating the conversation with his father difficult. He cursed Eris for not having warned him at least. 

“Being apart pains us,” Lucien offered, hoping it would satisfy Beron. He glanced at Elain and tried to relax, to calm his nerves. She clung to Eris, surprising Lucien with how trusting she seemed. He had to remind himself that she was merely acting, doing her best to do as the Night Court had obviously pushed her to.  

“She thinks she has a claim to you,” Beron shook his head, false sympathy carved into the frown on his face. “But you know Autumn’s laws, an unaccepted mating bond means nothing, a seed not yet planted.” 

Lucien responded on instinct, everything about it familiar, as if no time had passed between his exile and his current presence in the throne room. “Yes, High Lord.” 

“It was a great betrayal to see you siding with Spring at our border, Lucien,” Beron continued, “but the young lady’s concern for you has been touching.” 

“Let her return to Night,” Lucien interrupted, agony clawing at him. To lose a mate would be torture, and he knew his father well enough to guess he would be taking Elain’s life first. “Rhysand would thank you for it.” 

Beron replied, bitter but not angry. “You never could hold that tongue.” 

“Owing the High Lord of Night and his Lady would be of great use to us,” Eris intervened, his words always holding more weight in their family. Briefly, Lucien was thankful, was reminded of how often Eris had put himself in the way of Beron’s wrath when they were both so much younger.

Beron cast a long look at Eris, clicking his tongue, before he faced his youngest son. “I ask only that you answer one of my questions, Lucien, and I will grant your mate her wish.” Lucien heard Elain’s sharp inhale, but he kept his eyes on Beron. The metal one whirred in anticipation, pausing into place when his father spoke once more. “When is your mating ceremony?” 

Lucien felt as though someone had pulled the rug from beneath his feet. He was unsteady, his answer needed to be quick, natural. “We wanted a spring wedding,” he blurted, the response dragged out of him. He did not know what possessed him to refer to it as a marriage, but he would have bet his life on the fact that Elain would not have talked about a mating ceremony. 

Beron raised a dark eyebrow, but by the way his frown deepened, Lucien guessed the response was correct. “We’ve set the date for the equinox,” Lucien added as he felt relief from the bond, Elain’s emotions influencing his own. “On a night with a full moon.” 

Lucien watched as the Lady of Autumn reached for her husband’s arm, her fingers clawing at the sleeve. “Beron,” she murmured, a quiet plea for mercy. 

Lucien was unsure if his father had even heard his mother, but he turned away from Lucien, a clear dismissal, as he addressed Elain. “In Autumn, marrying on the night of a full moon brings blessings.” Beron cocked his head to the side like a wolf, “Did you know?” 

Elain shook her head in response, choosing honesty. Lucien could barely see her the way Eris was standing, as if he too was ready for the worst case scenario. 

Time itself seemed to still as they all waited for Beron to declare his wishes. Lucien attempted to ease Elain’s nerves, tried to comfort her through the bond, but he was not sure if he was successful. Moments or hours could have passed, and Lucien would not have noticed.

“My son,” the voice of the High Lord, never that of a father. His words the toll of a bell as he spoke to Lucien once more, breaking his silence. Beron stood from his throne, “We should let bygones be bygones, what happened all those years ago was unfortunate, but your mate is here now.” 

Lucien wondered if Beron understood just how much those words made his blood boil. Lucien had begged for Jesminda’s life to be spared, had claimed she was his mate at the time. He had been so sure, and it was like a blow to have his father mention it. Lucien could feel his face heating with anger, but he kept his mouth shut.  

“Let this be my gift to you,” Beron gestured with his hand to the windows, stars winking. “Have your wedding in Autumn, Lady Elain Archeron of the Night Court, and I will lift your mate’s exile. He would be free to come and go as he pleased.” The High Lord smiled, wicked, “and it would be a great honour to see one of my son’s married.”  

Beron did not even look at Lucien, embers in his eyes flaring as he focused solely on Elain. Lucien wanted to scream. 

Elain flashed his father a smile, it seemed so genuine that Lucien was taken aback. “How kind,” she stepped past Eris, curtsying elegantly. “You have my thanks.” 

Elain sounded so very fae, Lucien remarked. With a wave of his father’s hand, the guards removed the binds from Lucien’s wrists. As soon as Lucien was freed from his restraints, Eris moved out of Elain’s way so she could run to him. 

She threw her arms around Lucien’s neck as though she had done it countless times. He could do nothing but put his hands to Elain’s waist. 

“I was so worried,” she spoke just loud enough for everyone to hear, but it was still soft, as though she had only meant for the words to be heard by Lucien’s ears.  

Like she was his lover, Lucien breathed in deeply, held Elain close. “Everything’s alright,” he murmured, lips pressed to her hair. 

We both lie so well.

The thought was like a knife to the chest, but Lucien hoped that the two of them had been able to dispel Beron of any doubts. Lucien knew his mother was convinced, he could see it in her russet eyes. For a moment, Lucien felt guilty, but he pushed the thought aside. 

Elain was the first to pull away, a scarlet blush staining her pale cheeks. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear with one hand, but the other held tightly to Lucien’s. It was smart of her to look embarrassed, Beron would have found their affection distasteful otherwise. 

Lucien wondered if Elain knew how perfectly she had played her part, that she could have convinced kings to kneel if she set her mind to it. 

Elain certainly seemed to have the High Lord of the Autumn Court wrapped around her finger. 

“Take some time with your mate, Lucien,” his father declared. “Two nights from this one, we can celebrate your return home.” 

Lucien wanted to be back in the human lands, he wanted to be in the home he had made with Jurian and Vassa, the unlikeliest of friends. Instead, Lucien bowed his head. “Thank you, High Lord.” 

Beron angled his chin, “The guards can show you to your rooms.” Flames flashed in his father’s eyes, familiar enough to make Lucien flinch. “I must speak with Eris.” 

The guards pushed Lucien forward, the gesture rude but not painful. They kept a respectful distance from Elain, and Lucien wondered if they had simply been too charmed by her to even consider treating her poorly. 

Together, they were escorted from the throne room, Elain still holding tightly to Lucien’s hand. 

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

what the fuck is the Wire Mother book. Sociology has lore now?

oh boy okay

so you remember the Divergent books? the YA boom of the early 2010's? The Wire Mother was one of those series. they turned the Harlow's monkey experiments into dystopia factions.

yeah. i know. bear with me

The first book, The Wire Mother (2010) is pretty standard YA dystopia fare. There's this girl named Leo Groves (the Leo's short for Leonore) who lives in the court of the Cloth Mother, a city where people live in comfort and camaraderie and a general vibe of hold hands around the campfire and sing, except for the people who die at random. This is accepted with unsettling what-can-you-do calm from the main characters. (Eventually, it's revealed that's happening because only a 1/5th of the food served in the city is real, so most of the people are dropping dead of starvation but their bodies are quickly hurried away as to not kill the vibe, so no one worries all that much about it).

Which could have been cool speculative fiction! A handy story about desensitization to violence or complacency or something. Unfortunately, this was 2010 YA, so the concept is quickly kicked under the bed in favor of. yeah. A love triangle. Leo, being a special little narratively significant thing, finds her way to the mysterious other city on the other side of her hometown, the court of the Wire Mother. And when she's there, she meets a boy. Coil 54810.

Coil goddamn 54810.

That brooding son of a bitch. His last name is 54810 because the concept of last names and family doesn't exist in the court of the Wire Mother, only functionality, so 54810 is just the number of Coils there's been in the city. He's not a clone or anything, it's just the amount of people who've had that name. It's like being named Jeremy 54810. Killer of plot pacing. Swoopy of hair. He would have deserved to be named Jeremy.

God, anyway, I'm talking a lot about this. Anyway: The Wire Mother is exactly as good as the average YA dystopia book from the time period. It has some high points (the Cloth and Wire mother are cool ominously looming entities, and the main antagonist Jane-Mary has a level of batshit mad science energy to her that makes her the most fun villain in the series) and some low points (the forced Romeo and Juliet references. the forced romance. It is so clear that Benjamin St. Jobs, the other guy in the love triangle, doesn't stand a chance, but we have to keep who-will-it-be-ing for so long anyway. And Coil's a dick), but it mostly just balances out.

There were three more books in the series. There was supposed to be four, but. Well

Anyway. Book Two, The Wire Mother: Hounds' Toll (2012), actually kind of slapped. It went to more tragic and horror-influenced places than the original book. One thing I'll give Angela Lee (the author) credit for: I don't think this was a sequel for the sake of having a sequel. I think that the series was always supposed to be a pentalogy.

Some of the stuff in this book has still stuck with me to this day- I have to hold myself back from adding ominously ringing church bells in so many of my projects. Also, it really filled out Leo Groves as a protagonist- I could take or leave her in the first book, but I started to genuinely like her by the second. And the stuff they do with Stellarose Ardent, her best friend turned rival... God, I could make a whole post about Stellarose Ardent.

this book series is good, readers thought. surely the third book will be as good if not better

THE THIRD BOOK WAS HELL. The Wire Mother: Ordained Voltage (2013)...I think it did everything wrong. There was a reason that there was a two year break between the first two books, and book three being out only a year after Hounds' Toll really shows.

It's incredibly rushed. Leo barely gets to do anything. Stellarose is killed off in the most unsatisfying way possible. And while it seemed like Book Two had neatly put the love triangle to bed, no! It claws its way out of its grave!! To torment me specifically!

The only good thing we got out of this car wreck is Anesthesia 3, lab rat girl and apocalypse maiden extraordinaire. I adore her. She's got real Fish Inside A Birdcage vibes. Everything else, though? Horrors.

But readers held out hope. At least the characters ended up trapped in an interesting setting at the end of book three. The merciless, multi-layered prison of Tithonus, the central antagonist of the series. It seemed like that was a good set-up for a prison escape storyline. Those have to be entertaining, right?

Somehow, some way, no. Book Four, The Wire Mother: Endless Sentence (2014) is not just bad. I could forgive bad. But it is bad, and it is boring.

so boring that I'm not even going to waste my words on it. It's a school night. I'm not staying up to describe that thing. The only interesting thing about it is how it could manage to be boring while being an homage to the fucking Stanford Prison experiments.

And that was the end of a lot of people's hopes for the Wire Mother series. Only one good book out of four isn't a great track record, you know? A lot of readers were willing to put Hounds' Toll down as a one-off.

Then, in November of 2014, the preview for Book Five, The Wire Mother: Quantum Claws came out. It was three chapters long. And people lost their shit.

First of all, it was good. Maybe as good as Hounds' Toll. Maybe better.

But more than that, it was a break from the relatively grounded, safe, company standard dystopia of the series. Because this bad boy was going to be about time travel. Tithonus, in his evil plans to live forever, had built a time machine and activated it just at the right moment when the plucky heroes were about to kill him once and for all.

Which seems like something that would be a train wreck, right? If this author can't handle the easy-to-please tropes of prison breaks and romance, what business does she have trying to handle a time travel story without completely fucking up the series?

And maybe that would have been true. But the first three chapters were insanely promising. They were refreshing, original- they got time travel. We were able to get characters like Stellarose and Jane-Mary and Turpentine back after the story cast them aside so soon. And it promised to really examine what Leo Groves meant for the book's world. So, hopes rose again.

Unfortunately, we'll never know if it would have been good or bad. The fifth book was never published. We don't know why. It was just promised, for months and months, and then. Poof. The updates stopped. It was gone.

And it haunts me. If you haven't stopped reading by now, you can probably tell that. The fandom was like a fraction of the size of the Divergent fandom, and I don't know anyone IRL who's read these things. I don't even know if I can or should recommend them.

But sometimes something doesn't have to be a literary masterpiece to burrow into your brain and not let go, I guess ASJSJS

[blues824]

Muzan Kibutsuji x Lord of Chaos! Fem! Reader. (The Lords of Chaos in Young Justice). She has an anchor on the Mortal Plane made of indestructible mineral like Child did with Flaw? How does Muzan deal with her?

Muzan Kibutsuji 

You’ve been around since the dawn of time, and through you he was born to stir up chaos within the world. You know how he’s usually worshiped as the Demon King or the Lord of the Demons. Well, that worship is nothing compared to you.

Not only could you single-handedly beat his ass, but you were the one who created and assigned his blood demon art to him. He is truly grateful to you for giving him the gift of undead life, but he wants to curse you for not allowing him to walk in the sun.

However, it wasn’t like you could exactly control it. The Lords and Ladies of Order were constantly going against the Lords and Ladies of Chaos, so you told him to consider himself and all of demon-kind in consequence an ‘unfinished project’ of sorts. Well, now you’ve seriously humbled him. 

That aside, when you express your wish to enter a romantic relationship with him, he gladly accepts. It’s not everyday that you can court the person responsible for your insane amount of power, after all. As cliché as it sounds, you both were the Bonnie and Clyde of Japan.

You might as well consider yourself married to Muzan because of how much time you spend together. Not just that, but you also help him run the entire demon army so that one day you could finish the project and help them conquer the Sun. 

But, you realize that no matter what, the Lords and Ladies of Order are still trying to constantly go up against you to create balance within the universe. This time, they are taking the form of the Demon Slayer Corps. To your lovely soon-to-be husband (of course you both were engaged), it was the battle of a lifetime.

[sitp-recs]

Hello! Could you please rec some soft eighth year fics? I recently read To be a bit of warmth (for you) and i really need some hurt/comfort fics like that, that don't have a lot of plot. Thank you for your time and help!

Hi there, sure! I think you will enjoy these, they’re my favourite 8th year comfort food:

Thermodynamic Equilibrium by DorthyAnn (T, 5k)

Harry's far too hot. Draco's always cold. And somehow against all odds, together they create a perfect equilibrium.

Good Company by Greenflares (T, 8k)

With Hermione and Ron always together, Harry's return to Hogwarts to complete his education isn't exactly fun. Somehow, it's his unlikely friendship with Malfoy that keeps him sane.

What Country, Friends, Is This? by khalulu (M, 8k)

When Harry and Draco are paired up for a nebulous “capstone project” in 8th year, Draco suggests they use it as an opportunity to take a free Grand Tour of Europe. Harry isn’t interested in being grand, and they soon veer off the beaten path. The journey to find what (and who) you really want can lead to unexpected places.

Said and Unsaid (or, The Value of Knowing When to Stop Talking) by bryoneybrynn (T, 15k)

When the Interrogator asked if he had anything to say on his own behalf, Draco shook his head, his lips pressed tight in a thin line. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse.

Find The Balance by lauren3210 and Obliviate_Amores (M, 15k)

After Harry gives Draco his wand and goes back to using his own, they both start having trouble making them work. Finding out why is a lot simpler than fixing the problem.

Nice Things by aideomai (M, 22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

On Our Way by dynamic (E, 30k)

Draco is trying to spend the summer keeping his head down, but a repair project and a certain snowy owl have other plans for him.

All Things Go by iota (E, 33k)

Draco’s back at Hogwarts by court order. Harry’s back for no particular reason at all. Some things change, some stay the same. Neither expects to spend eighth-year living in close quarters, playing rugby (poorly), staying up late, sneaking around, and finally figuring it all out.

Like Lightning at Your Fingertips by potterwatch (T, 43k)

The problem with living with another insomniac is, eventually, they find out you’re one, too. When Harry and Draco return for their eighth year, they think they’ll see very little of each other. Then McGonagall assigns them to room together. And the castle starts breaking. And there’s that thing with Potter’s magic.

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy (M, 66k)

How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy. Harry finds himself once more watching and following Malfoy, trying to work him out. When they are drawn together to heal the castle, Harry doesn’t just find Malfoy - he also finds himself.

[novorehere]

Bite-Sized Tidbits:

A snapshot of what life might look like with the seven avatars of sin. Contains a lot of fluff, a little angst, and soft/safe vore with you and the seven Obey Me! brothers. I’ve been working on this on and off for quite a while now, so I hope you enjoy.

Word count: 2096. Written for Vore Day, 2023

—

—

Pride

“I can give you your punishment now, or we can wait until later.”

The edges of the demon’s lips crept up into the beginnings of a smirk. All without breaking his gaze from the stack of documents which he straightened against his desk with a tap tap tap.

“However, I will be leaving for tea with Lord Diavolo as soon as my work is finished. So unless you’d like to spend the evening with Barbatos’ chiffon cake, I’d recommend making up your mind in a timely manner.”

Both of you knew very well that “punishment” wasn’t the right word. Lucifer’s infrequent office calls were less of a punishment and moreso a game, an unspoken routine in which you continuously tested the Avatar of Pride’s patience by indulging his younger brothers’ schemes.

It was a game that toyed with the balance of power, one where you pretended like he couldn’t just shrink you down whenever he wanted and that you couldn’t order him to stop with a single word. It was a game that indulged his pride, one that Lucifer would always win in the end.

It was only a matter of minutes before you were seated in his gloved palm. His ruby eyes lording over you with a gaze that anyone else would find annoyingly high-handed. But after playing his game for so long, to you the affection hiding behind them was obvious.

“Are you ready then, my Lamb?”

He was the morning star, eldest of the seven rulers of the underworld.

Yet despite all of this, Lucifer knew it was you who had him utterly wrapped around your little finger.

—

Greed

Reclining his head against the arm of his couch, the Avatar of Greed kissed his fingertips in mock satisfaction at the burp that rolled up his throat. A barely audible complaint of “gross” only caused him to chuckle and pat his stomach triumphantly.

“Maybe ya shoulda thought about that before bein’ so damn filling.”

A sound like “Guh” escaped the demon’s mouth as a swift kick to his liver interrupted his musings.

“Oi! The Great Mammon’s gonna start chargin’ 10,000 Grimm for damages every time ya do that!” Ya oughta learn some basic respe-”

And there it was, the familiar flutter of tiny fingers rubbing circles into him from inside. Perhaps it was your way of saying sorry… More likely though that you just wanted to shut him up. It was annoying how easily you could reduce him to a blushing mess without uttering a single word.

“Hey… ‘s not fair. You’re playin’ dirty…”

Mammon rolled onto his side in an uncharacteristically gentle motion. He couldn’t help sneaking an indulgent glance at the scene reflected in his mirror. There he was, splayed out amongst piles of his belongings with his shirt ridden up and his belly rounded in his lap. If *any* of his brothers saw him like this, he would never hear the end of their teasing. But luckily for Mammon, not even you could know the way his face became soft as he teased a finger around his navel too gently for you to feel.

“Why’d ya stop? C’mon, now… keep goin.’”

It didn’t matter how much Mammon gambled away or how many centuries it had been since he’d hit the jackpot at the casino. When he was with you, Mammon felt like the luckiest demon in the three realms.

But sometimes it was hard to put it into words. Which is exactly why he treasured moments like these, the moments where his greed got the better of him. The moments where he could steal you away to be his and his alone.

After all, it was much easier to express how madly in love with you he’d become when he didn’t have to meet you face to face.

—

Envy

“You know, this is just like that one scene in ‘My Life as a Shut-In Reincarnated as a Worker in the Shopping Mall Dimension’ where Prince Alfonso goes to the food court kingdom and-”

Leviathan groaned, burying his face into his body pillow as if that could somehow hide him from the voice in his middle.

“You can’t use my own otaku tactics against me, it’s… *hic-* it’s not fair!!”

Your muffled laughter reverberated off the walls of his bathtub, accompanied by the occasional hiccup and the tip of a serpentine tail nervously thumping against porcelain.

He didn’t mean for his horns to sprout from his head when you tried to leave his room that night. He didn’t mean for his tail to wrap around your ankle, wordlessly begging you to stay. And he certainly didn’t mean for his stomach to loudly vocalize the thoughts that had been plaguing his mind the entire night. What was this, some sort of tropey romance manga?

But here he was, face as red as a bouquet of queen of jealousy and stuffed to the (decidedly metaphorical) gills in his own bathtub. The Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy, reduced to a blushing, hiccuping mess. And he had nobody but himself to blame.

But really, how could he have resisted? Especially with the visions of what could have happened instead playing through his head on repeat. Asmo whisking you away to some club filled with normies who could actually hold a real conversation, Mammon snatching you up for an unauthorized night drive in his Demonio 666 Lexura, Beel getting a little too peckish and… he couldn’t bear to think about it.

Leviathan knew wanting to be your one and only was unreasonable. He knew that he was a terrible, horrible friend for thinking these thoughts and becoming so troubled at the prospect of anyone else showing you affection. That no one would ever want to be with a miserable, pathetic joke of a shut-in that wasn’t worth the scum in Henry’s tank-

But as soon as they had come, the negative thoughts washed away like a speck in the ocean as you snuggled closer to his hand, a muffled voice reassuring him that there was no place you’d rather be tonight.

—

Wrath

“With an over-exaggerated flourish, the detective tipped his hat to the dame as he disappeared into the evening fog like the curls of smoke which danced from his pipe…”

The demon’s inner monologue was cut short as a violent squirming sensation roused him from his novel. Your ears detected the unmistakable sound of a huff and a book closing, muffled by layers of flesh and fabric.

“Restless as ever, I see…”

Normally, Satan would be more than offended to have his attention ripped from the pages of a good book. But this time the annoyance that swelled in his chest turned not into rage, but affection as the fire settled in his stomach and melted away… You tended to have that effect on him.

The blonde sighed fondly, gazing down at the bump in his sweater.

“…Would you like me to read aloud to you? Perhaps that will help you settle some.”

Pulling the covers up a bit higher around his navel, he tucked them in snugly around his sides. A rare smile crossed Satan’s face as he admired his handiwork. The man reached over to his nightstand, finding there exactly what he was looking for in the dim light. A paperback atop the haphazard piles of hardcovers strewn about, placed there with care as not to crease the art on the cover he knew you loved so much.

With both of you tucked in for the night, it was easier than ever to melt into the gentle rumble of his voice.

“Our story begins in a world of monsters…”

—

Lust:

Asmodeus knows that true beauty comes from within. How could it not, when the skin of the human that emerges from his lips always feels so much softer and smoother than before? He makes sure to bring it to your attention every time, doting over how the glow of his inner beauty rubs off on you so easily. Despite everything, he thinks you look so gorgeous lying in his palm. Layers of mucus, tired bags under your eyes, and all.

But sometimes it’s hard to feel beautiful inside or out with wings dyed black and pointed horns replacing the light of your halo.

—

A delicate, painted fingertip wipes a stray bead of drool from your face. The other hand is busy at your head, gently combing the tangles from your still-damp hair with the tiniest heart-shaped hairbrush. Asmodeus had been ecstatic the day it arrived, practically bowling over Levi before snatching the Akuzon package from his arms with a squeal.

It was a ritual at this point, the way he pampered you after letting you out. Swaddling you in a soft, lilac-scented hand towel warmed by the gentle breeze of his hairdryer, wiping you clean as he hummed a familiar tune.

“Baby, you want my love


No matter who you are


I want you to show me


I fell in love with someone


Besides myself for the first time”

He didn’t need to be the “Jewel of the Heavens” with you as his jewel, a precious pearl to tuck away beside his heart where all the things he loves live.

And he had so, so much love to give.

—

Gluttony

Beelzebub was on the verge of snapping when you came to him.

He was breathing heavily when you found his monstrous, horned silhouette hunched over the empty refrigerator. Frightened eyes were glazed over with a hunger that threatened to swallow you up with their very gaze. His mouth opened in a silent plea, perhaps an apology, but it was drowned out by the roar of his stomach.

Sometimes it felt as if no amount of food could put out the fire that raged within him. The burning sensation could only be briefly dulled by each cooling mouthful that slid down his throat. But then it was gone, claimed by the emptiness inside him that demanded “more.”

But you… you were different.

Simply being around you made him feel full, and for that he was ever grateful. But sometimes he needed more than a feeling. He needed to be sure you were there, to know that you were alive. To feel the weight of that missing piece that left him the day that he fell.

But despite what he needed, he still required your explicit permission to take it.

“…Can I?”

“You may.”

With your words, Beelzebub gave himself over to his gluttony. It was primal, animalistic… but one thing was for certain.

No demon in hell could devour you as lovingly as he did that night.

—

Sloth

Beneath the attic room comforter, an incoherent mumble could be heard from a demon-sized lump in the sheets.

Belphegor rolled onto his stomach as he nestled deeper into his nest of blankets. It didn’t take long at all for a lazy smile to crawl across the Avatar of Sloth’s face. Even though you were undoubtedly squashed in this position, he could still feel your tiny hands working their magic just like he had asked.

Oh, how you spoiled him rotten.

It was hard not to with the way Belphegor expressed his desires so plainly. To borrow your jacket to use as a pillow, to keep quiet to Lucifer about skipping classes, to stroke his hair while he lay on your lap. The others weren’t too thrilled with your coddling, but Belphie couldn’t care less.

After all, they had gotten so much more time with you than he had. They got to know you, to love you, to taste you… all before you even knew his name.

Belphegor was the Avatar of Sloth, not envy. But there was once a time when the unmistakable tingling warmth of his twin indulging in you left the bitter aftertaste of jealousy on his tongue. It was a strange feeling, his brother’s affection for a human. One that, until recently, he couldn’t quite understand. And at the time, he had no desire to.

Nowadays the sensation was far from unwelcome. But ever since that night at the castle when he gifted you his pact, Belphegor had found that he much preferred having you all to himself in person. All to himself…

A small yawn escaped the youngest’s mouth as mind wandered to his twin. Could he feel it too, he wondered? The phantom weight of your touch?

…Perhaps he’d ask Beel about it later. But for now, he had an extremely important nap to get to.

—

Neither of you were conscious enough to know it, but that night as Beelzebub carried his brother down to his own bed and tucked him in, he whispered not one, but two good-nights.

[theglamorousferal]

The Halfa King and His Court

So this is a fic that I started at the beginning of the pandemic that I kinda just hit a block with. I really like it as a starting point, but I’m not sure what else to do with it. I had a sort of bullet point outline but it seemed more like I was just tossing in every different DP fic plot line all together so it wasn’t going to make much sense. I was going to have there be a field trip into the GZ where the Trio judge whether the a-listers and Val have changed enough to have them join in with Team Phantom, there was going to be a reveal to his parents of him and then later on after Plasmius had been helping out then Vlad as well. It was gonna be this whole thing, but anyway. I’m not sure if I will continue this, so feel free to add your own spin on it or take it for adoption, I’m not sure how to do that exactly.

*****

“No.” Danny said, in a tone that rang with finality and a general sense of “I am so done with this whole situation.”

“Danny, I know this is hard to believe, but technically by the laws of the Ghost Zone Frostbite gave to you-” Sam started, only to get cut off by Danny's glare. She sighed. “Seriously Danny, it says right here in the text he gave you.” Sam shoved the scroll at Danny who scoffed and passed it off to Tucker.

“Oh man Danny, do you know what we could do with this? The new laws you could put in place?” Tucker laughed as he read what was written.

“The protections you could put in place for Amity and the Earth?” Sam hinted at poking Danny in the shoulder. Danny sighed.

“Guys, I get it, I could use this to my advantage, but there's so much more responsibility to go with it. I'd have to take over the general affairs from the Observants and Walker, though I guess Walker would have to do what I say wouldn't he.” Danny seemed to think about it.

“Let's say I did do this, what would I do? I don't have time to take care of the whole Ghost Zone! I'd need to pick advisers and establish some sort of method for figuring out small disputes, some way of checks and balances. Guys, you know I'm failing History and Government, and this is basically saying that I'd get complete control over the Ghost Zone and have to set-up an entirely new system!” He gripped his hair in frustration and panic. And it caused his friends to sit and think some solutions through.

“Well,” Sam began, “you could start with getting a few people you know that do know about this kind of stuff together and getting their opinion about it. Frostbite, Dora, Clockwork, Pandora, maybe Ghostwriter from what we know of his library and... maybe... Vlad?” she added the last person hesitantly. Danny shot a look at her of surprise and confusion, dropping his hands from his hair to his lap.

“Vlad? Why the hell would I ask him for anything?” He was honestly baffled as to why she would bring him up.

“Besides the fact that he has more knowledge of modern government compared to the others I listed, I think he would relish the idea of being able to mentor you at something.”She paused to consider something. “He seems to have calmed down a bit after his last scheme almost got your mom killed instead of your dad. He almost seems to realize now that your mom is completely dedicated to your dad and finds him a bit creepy. I mean, last time he was over, he actually asked Jazz some stuff right? Doesn't he usually ignore her completely?”

“Crazy-man acting less crazy?” Tucker snorted. “I'll believe it when I see it.”

Danny thought about it for a second and realized that Sam was right, he hadn't needed to fight the Fruit-loop since his last scheme put his mom in the hospital. She was fine, just had a concussion and a fractured leg, but it still had shaken him. In fact, Danny hadn't seen any sign of Vlad as either Masters or Plasmius since the incident except for when he visited when Mom first got out of the hospital.

“Yeah, maybe you're right, I should go and pay Uncle Vladdie a visit.” Danny stood and paused. “Should I bring the scroll with me to show him as proof? I doubt he'd believe me if I just told him.”

“Yeah, probably should. It's not anything that he can modify to fit his own needs anyway, just a list of laws.” Sam rolled it up and handed it to him. “Want either of us to come with?” She offered.

“Nah, I should be good to visit the cheese-head on my own. You guys mind covering for me until I get back?” They were supposed to be having a study-sleepover at Sam's.

“Sure thing, we’ll just cover our electives while you’re gone and tell my parents you went to get pizza.” Sam fished out some cash and handed it to Danny. “Actually, while you’re out can you grab some?”

“Sure, the usual?” Danny put the scroll and the money in his pocket.

“Yup, a large all veggie vegan cheese for me.”

“And a large extra meaty supreme for me!”

Danny laughed, “and a large extra cheese for me. I’ll place the order as I’m leaving Vlad’s. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” With that he transformed and took off through the ceiling.

Tucker turned to Sam. “Do you really think going to Mayor wack-job is a good idea?”

Sam sighed. “Tucker, you weren’t there that day, the look on his face when he saw Mrs. Fenton take the hit instead of Mr. Fenton…” Sam looked away thinking. “He looked devastated, and not just in the ‘the love of my life will never love me’ way but more in the ‘my actions are hurting those I love’ way. He looked like he realized that if he continued the way he was going that he might just accidentally kill either Mrs. Fenton or Danny and I think that would hurt him more than anything.”

[khaleesa]

Hallo friend. Have one of the writing prompts from the list you reblogged:

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

What a great prompt! I had so much fun writing this one. Thank you! And thanks to @bratanimus for betaing.

(TW: disordered eating.)

~*~

Faint Heart, Fair Lady

"Chrissy, take ten!" 

The voice seemed to come from a long way off. Chrissy might not have heard it if it hadn't said her name. Blinking away blackness at the edges of her vision, her eyes, a little blurry, focused on Coach Johnson, who wasn't very far away at all. In fact, she was standing right in front of Chrissy, front and center on the basketball court. She could feel the eyes of every other member of the cheer squad--her squad--in formation all around her, staring. 

Judging. 

Tightening her sweaty grip on the handles of her pompoms, slack at her sides, Chrissy perched them on her hips and pushed out her chest. "I'm fine, Coach. Just a little light-headed. I don't need a break." "You're clearly not fine," said Coach Johnson. "You're sluggish and out of sync. You're sweaty but pale. You look woozy--"

Chrissy latched onto that. "I am a little woozy, that's all. It's so hot…" 

After school practices in the un-air-conditioned gym in August were like cheering in a sauna. The propped-open doors at each end didn't do much to help catch the breeze.

"Exactly. Put a cool, wet towel on your neck. Drink water. Get some fresh air." 

When Chrissy started to protest, Coach Johnson lay a hand on her shoulder and spoke softer. "You're not in trouble, Chrissy. I'm not kicking you out of practice or off the squad. Or demoting you from captain." 

Behind her, Chrissy heard gasps and whispers from the other cheerleaders. If she'd been pale before, now her cheeks burned flame red. She'd worked so hard to make captain this year, and Dana Holloway probably thought this was her chance to take over.

"I just want you to take care of yourself." Coach Johnson released her shoulder with a squeeze.

Chrissy staggered out of the gym as fast as she could, but her legs were heavy, slow, like in those dreams where you needed to run away but couldn't. Her vision blurred. She blinked against what she assumed to be tears, but her eyelids were dry. As she pushed through the swinging door and stepped into the hallway, the darkness was creeping in again. 

A buzzing in her ears; she swept her eyes around the hall for the source of the sound, but there was no one, nothing there, school out for the day and the students and staff gone home. Everything looked wrong, orange and white tiles tilting toward her, too close, at a strange angle to the striped walls. Or was it her who was wrong? 

She saw her own hands flail outward, scrabbling for balance or something to grab onto, so pale against the orange linoleum square. Was she falling? It didn't feel like falling. She was moving downward in slow-motion, there was gentle pressure at her back, around her waist, like a pair of strong arms supporting her.

Then, only black. 

~*~

"Chrissy. Chrissy, wake up." 

The voice seemed to come from up close. Very close. Like, right up in her face. It said her name, but wasn't a voice she recognized. 

"Chrissy." This time, the up-close voice was accompanied by a hand on her cheek. The skin was warm, a little rough. Fingertips lightly tapped her cheekbone. "Come on, Chrissy, wake up…" 

Her eyelids fluttered open, the black receding as she blinked up into a face she did recognize, framed by a wild, dark mane of hair. A pair of worried brown eyes peered down at her. 

"Eddie?" her voice creaked from her throat.

Eddie Munson--third-year senior, loudmouth, social pariah (except when dealing weed)--was touching her face. 

Eddie Munson was…holding her. 

"Surprise," he said in a sing-song voice. 

It certainly was. They were posed like the Gone With the Wind poster, for goodness' sake! Chrissy tried to push herself upright, but although her feet were on the floor, her legs were like jelly. She settled for raising her head.

"What happened?" she asked.

“So, uh, the strangest thing. I was coming out of detention…" 

Figured. 

"...and, uh, you fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

"I didn't want your attention," Chrissy snapped. 

Eddie's hand left her face and he held it up, palm out. A gesture of innocence--a word that didn't fit with what she knew of him at all. "Just a joke. But, uh, you're probably not really in the mood for jokes, huh?"

She shook her head--a bad idea, as it made her dizzy. "Not really." 

With unexpected gentleness, Eddie eased her to sit on the floor. The linoleum was dirty, but blessedly cool against the backs of her thighs and calves, bared by her green practice shorts, and Chrissy pressed her palms to it, taking deep breaths as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall.

"So why'd you faint?" Eddie asked. 

Chrissy opened her eyes to see he'd dropped to a squat in front of her, a black metal lunchbox and backpack beside him.

"Did the sight of me make you swoon? I hope it was that and not, like, low blood sugar." With a toss of his head, he added, "Please tell me it was the dashing good looks and not the diabeetus?" 

Chrissy really wasn't in the mood for jokes, but Eddie had come to her aid, and she felt a little bad for being rude to him before. She opened her mouth to tell him she'd overheated during cheer practice, but her stomach let out a deep, rumbling growl. 

Eddie's round eyes darted comically to her stomach, then back up to her face. "That came out of you?"

"I didn't bring my lunch today." That sounded like she'd forgotten it, right? 

"Okay? They sell food in the cafeteria. I mean, they call it food, anyway."

"I didn't bring any money, either." 

Eddie gaped at her like he was illustrating the meaning of incredulous in the dictionary. "Do you mean to tell me that your boyfriend, God's gift to Hawkins High, just let you go hungry? What a dick."

"It's not a big deal to miss lunch now and then." Chrissy crossed her arms over her chest. 

Who did Eddie think he was, criticizing her boyfriend? She couldn't decide whether she was more annoyed about that, or the realization that Jason hadn't even noticed that she wasn't eating lunch, because it was so normal for her. He used to ask, but at some point, he'd stopped.

"Believe me, I've missed lunch more than a few times," Eddie said. "But then I don't go do back handsprings and stand on top of human pyramids with one foot in the air." 

"Only when you've had lunch first?" 

"Thought you weren't in the mood for jokes." The corner of Eddie's mouth edged upward in a grin, and Chrissy felt the muscles of her own face mirror his expression.

"Apparently I am." 

He was kind of funny. Not like she'd thought he'd be, from the unhinged rants she'd witnessed in the cafeteria.  

"I'd offer you some of my lunch," Eddie said, indicating the lunchbox, "but unfortunately, all that's left in it is, uh…" He made a show of casting his dark eyes up and down the hallway, before leaning in to stage whisper, "weed." 

Was he joking? Was she still unconscious? This whole thing had the bonkers quality of a dream. Maybe this was just what talking to Eddie was like. She never had before today, at least not that she could remember.

"Wait here," Eddie said. 

With the jangle of his wallet chain, he bounded off down the hall like someone who didn't run often—or ever—disappearing around a corner. Chrissy could hear the squad in the gym, chanting, Pump, pump, pump it up, pump that Tiger spirit up! She should probably get back. It had to have been ten minutes by now. How long had she been unconscious? If Coach Johnson was really so concerned about Chrissy, why  hadn't she come to check on her? Before she could work up the energy to push to her feet, Eddie clattered back around the corner clutching something in each hand.

"For the lady," he said, a little winded, bowing and presenting with a flourish a can of 7 Up and a packet of peanut butter crackers. 

Chrissy's stomach clenched. It wasn't a diet soda, and peanut butter was so fattening, and crackers were just empty carbs. But…she hadn't eaten anything all day. A little bit would be fine, wouldn't it? She'd burn off the calories when she went back to cheer practice.

"You didn't have to do that, Eddie," she said.

"Ah, but I did. For you are the Queen of Hawkins High, and I am but your humble servant." 

He bowed again. Was he making fun of her? Eddie made fun of the athletes all the time, but maybe he didn't have an issue with cheerleaders? Whatever was happening, Chrissy didn't care when she cracked open the 7 Up and took a cold, sweet, citrusy sip. It was the best thing she'd tasted maybe ever, until she bit into a peanut butter cracker. 

"Thank you so much," she said. "I feel better already." 

Eddie picked up his lunchbox and slung his backpack over one shoulder. "I, uh, hate to lunch you and leave you, but I gotta get to practice." 

"Practice?" 

"Uh-huh. My band." 

He stood staring at her, like he was waiting for her to say something. As Chrissy swallowed another sip of soda, a memory sprang from some dusty corner of her mind. 

"Corroded Coffin!" 

Eddie's face lit up. "Wondered if you remembered the middle school talent show." 

"With a name like that, how could I forget?"

He ducked his head almost bashfully, hair falling into his face and hiding his grin.

"Take care of yourself, Chrissy." He turned  to go, then the soles of his Reeboks squeaked on the linoleum as he wheeled back. "And if the queen should ever again find herself with neither lunch nor money, she has only to ask, and I'll happily split half my sandwich." 

"I thought you only had…" Chrissy's voice dropped to a hush. "...weed." 

Eddie's delighted cackle followed him through the hall to the exit. The door had just shut behind him when the gym door swung open and Coach Johnson poked her head out. 

"Chrissy! There you are. You look better." 

"Surprise!" Chrissy heard herself say in a sing-song voice not quite her own. 

As she took another drink and pushed to her feet, her gaze drifted down the hall in the direction Eddie had gone. Her heart beat an erratic rhythm that she wasn't sure had anything to do with her fainting spell. 

And that was the most surprising thing of all.

150 Random Writing Prompts