LOVE YOU - Blog Posts
I'M LATE BUT IDC IT'S STILL THE 29TH IN THE UK HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHUUYA NAKAHARA FROM HIT MANGA BUNGOU STRAY DOGS YOU MAKE LESBIANS SWOON AND WHENEVER I HAVE A BAD DAY I THINK ABOUT YOU AND I IMMEDIATELY FEEL BETTER BLESS YOU YOU UNBOTHERED KING!!!!!!
i dont know what im doing either i swear ill post something better just give me time before i post anything good
Happy new year, my Dear followers! :*** Unfortunately, I don’t have time to draw a art, but I will try to draw more arts in 2019 <3
Omg, even with bandaid he is PERFECT!
Someone is drunk... A bit. And that is not me xDD
He is so cute <3 x
oml she called me cute i'm winning 🤭 and POST THAT JI DRABBLE NEOW (no but take your time with it, can't wait to read it ♡)
also pls pretend i was on anon before 😁 could i be 🫧 anon?
You can bub 🫧
I’m halfway finished it was a request and I have so many requests sitting in my inbox I’m trying to go through them but I do my best :)
You’re very cute bet you’re beautiful too sweetheart 💕 (if you haven’t noticed I’m very flirty and I can’t promise it stays innocent hehe)
I’m honoured you think I did a good job sweetheart 💕🫶🏻✨ cuz I just got lost while writing and that’s what came out at the end :)
love making with ot8 🤍🤍(separate)
𖥻 love making
♡┊ 𝐂𝐇𝐐𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 ; Stray Kids
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 :: how I think love making with them would be :) (wrote for everyone besides Seungmin and I.N cuz I wasn’t sure about them hope you don’t mind…might add them later on)
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 :: smut ( 18+ ) , soft skz , sub!reader , a bit aftercare , cumming inside
𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧 ::
He is such a soft boy when he wants to be, probably in the mood for soft sex if he is exhausted or if he just wants to show you how much he loves you. He will not really care if he gets to cum only focusing on your pleasure for example using his fingers and/or mouth until you’re seeing stars. He enjoys eating you out because every time he does your hand wanders into his curls to tug on them while moaning his name. He will cover you in kisses and marks as much as you let him while whispering praises against your skin telling you how good you taste and how pretty you sound. If you aren’t exhausted after the toe curling high he gives you and he gets to fuck you it’s much slower than usual. His trusts slow but deep letting you feel him deep inside your tummy, letting you feel every inch of him. He likes it when you play with his hair while whining his name right beside his ear. He will hold off his own high in order to make you both cum together instead. After you both cum chan likes to stay inside u for a bit longer enjoying the feeling of your soft walls wrapped around him. He nuzzles his face in your neck and kisses your neck while praising you even more, while his hands roam around your body massaging your trembling thighs while enjoying the way your hand plays with his hair.
𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨 ::
Minho prefers rough sex but on some days where he just feels so overwhelmed by your love for him or if dance practice was exhausting and you want to make him feel good. For example he gets home exhausted and you already prepared a warm bubble bath for him just because you could hear the exhaustion in his voice when he called you. So when you both sit in the bathtub (you’re on his lap) and you’re running your hands over his sore muscles making him throw his head back enjoying your touch. You tease him by moving your hips against him. Minho lets you take control and just holds your hip or thighs. you sink down on him all at once and just stay still, enjoying the feeling of his body pressed against yours and the way his dick feels inside you. Enjoys it when you ride him because he gets an amazing view of your breasts and the way you throw your head back in pleasure while moaning his name. He praises you and moans out your name the sounds getting louder the faster you move or the tighter you clench around him. Makes sure you come first and the feeling of your cunt clenching around him brings him over the edge, filling you up with his high. Minho will hold you tight against him and rub your back while thanking you. He will cuddle you in bed after while playing with your hair and watching a movie.
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐧 ::
I think he will choose soft love making mostly after dates for example a dinner date or a movie date. Will eat your cunt like a five star meal until you’re unable to say anything besides your name. He enjoys feeling your thighs tremble beside his head or in his hands. Enjoys it when you pull him closer to your cunt with your hand in his hair. When Changbin fucks your cunt his movement is slow only speeding up a bit when you ask him to go faster. He enjoys deep but softer trusts. Tells you to moan as loud as you want because he wants to know that he is making you feel good. Changbin likes the way your eyes roll back and his name is the only thing you can say. He will make you cum as often as you want although if you’re to exhausted he tells you it’s okay if he didn’t get to cum but you suck him off anyways cuz who would say no to the opportunity to suck this man off?
𝐇𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 ::
This man looooooves soft sex and probably only fucks you rough if you beg for it or if you’ve been a brat. This man will first stuff you full of his cum only to eat you out after. He enjoys the taste of your combined highs The first time you will get to cum is on his dick cuz he wants to feel you clench around him as he fills you up while praising you and leaving marks over your neck and chest. Plays with your boobs too and enjoys how sensitive you are. Will stay insider your warm cunt for a few minutes enjoying the feeling of your mixed cum slowly flowing out of you. Hyunjin is determined to get you to cum at least once or twice more with his fingers and his mouth. He calls you his beautiful muse and tells you how he wishes to paint you naked some time will bring you water and some snacks after cleaning you up and giving you a sweet kiss. POST SEX CUDDLES :)
𝐇𝐚𝐧 𝐉𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠 ::
This man will 100% fuck you in the studio if he has a writers block or a burn out. He will just ask you if he can eat you out to distract himself and who would say no to this man’s mouth and tongue on your body? Definitely not you…Jisung gets pretty whiny the longer he stays between your legs getting to taste your sweet cunt. He could cum in his pants from the way your thighs tremble around his head and your fingers grip his Hair. Lets you ride him and touch him all you want. You can control the pace and where you want his hands to be. Jisung enjoys the way you clench around him every time he praises you. Jisung will only help you move if you ask for it or if you’re too tired. Likes to either cum inside you or on your chest. Tired Jisung is all in all pretty sweet and lets you do whatever you want. If he came inside you he will stay inside you for some time while cuddling you under the blanked because he enjoys feeling your body close to his.
𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱 ::
This man could make you cum from just his thighs and his voice if he wanted to. Felix is mostly in the mood for slow sex if it’s his day off or the weekend. He likes it that you seem to enjoy praising him as much as he does enjoy praising you. Felix enjoys telling how pretty you look while sucking him off or while he slowly fucks you. He would let you leave tiny marks on him if he doesn’t like have to perform or show much skin. Felix would smile every time he sees the heart shaped hickey on his chest remembering the soft tone of your voice asking him if you can leave a small mark there. Felix enjoys soft sex in the bedroom, the way he slowly moves his hips against yours making sure he hits your sweet spot every time. Your hands around his neck holding him close to you as he brings you to a high yet again. If your hands aren’t on his neck he will hold them on your sides intertwined together while kissing you passionately. He will draw the sex out for as long as he can to make sure you feel as good as he is. When you both cum it’s always together while moaning each other’s names. Felix takes a bath with you and rubs your back and playing with your hair. After a quick change of the sheets he will cuddle with you under the soft blanket while watching a show or a movie on low volume.
Just curious what made han your bias?
I think we have similar personalities like when I first started listening to to skz and watched interviews with then Jisungie just caught my eyes the most with his silly personality and since then he is my bias together with channie 🫶🏻
I wish I could let you go. I say as I get
comfy in bed, hoping to dream of you again.
I dream of you every night.
Every morning I lose you.
Everyday I pray to God—Either stop her from invading my dreams or don't wake me up.
Another day of missing you too much. I cope by watching Peraltiago compilations.
“source?” divine intuition, gut instinct, and cryptic symbolism from my dreams
@baka-monarch DO YOU LOOK SO GOOD?! EVEN WITH THE MASK I’M SCREAMING!? STUFF LIKE THIS IS WHY I SHOULD SPEND MORE TIME ON TUMBLR!
"can I offer you some drugs manufactured from my very own van?"
Watch me! >:D <3 <3 <3
THIS IS A PLANT APPRECIATION POST!
@plant-gt-thought-box IS SO VERY VERY COOL
THEY IS A VERY AMAZING IDEAS AND WRITER PERSON AND EVERTIME I LOOK AT THEIR BLOG THE PURE SEROTONIN IS INMACULATE!(I am so sorry for using incorrect pronouns this has been fixed-)
ALSO
THIS IS A ROMAN APPRECIATION POST!
@baka-monarch IS SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SUPER POGCHAMP! ROMAN JUST HAS SO MANY GOOD IDEAS AND THEY ARE VERY FRIENDLY AND I WOULD DIE FOR HIM
ACTUALLY I WOULD DIE FOR BOTH PLANT AND ROMAN
I fucked me over with seeing an edit of that scene of Reid crying in later seasons (the worst one of the ones I believes) and I gunned it to scroll away, proceeded to have an emotional crisis to Dynamight by BTS on loop for three times straight (pan).
To the man who reminds me of a diamond - a gem that shines bright, is multifaceted, resilient, and the strongest stone in the world:
Kim Seokjin. You are the metaphorical equivalent of a gem so precious, you deserve to be treasured by every inch that makes you who you are.
Thank you for everything.
I am in love with your blog😭💕✨😩😩❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
thank you sm 🥹♡
divinity - a poem
seek familiarity in the warmth of ichor on your gelid, gelid skin
did they tell you that this world was meant for you?
or did they carve crosses in your chest, caving in your sternum?
did they tell you tales of falsified salvation, of cruel righteousness?
of eternal damnation at the blade of atheistic refutation?
seek answers in the warmth of ichor on your gelid, gelid skin
discover the world that lives to be your oyster
find redemption in the splendor of your existence
survive to lead the legacy of passion and absolution
learn to believe in the warmth of ichor on your gelid, gelid skin
seek divinity in mortality, find divinity beneath your hardened shell
seek divinity where it seeks you
waiting for you to get back
hi I love your Solygbm headcanons, do you have any more headcanons for the skeleton brothers?
Hi, thank you so much for taking the time to ask! And, lucky you! I have another backstory. It's how Sans and Tops became friends. Sorry if it took a while. I took a lot of breaks and spoilers for my later re-adaption for this fiction. Coming soon!
~~~~~~
So, even when Mar (Sans' mother) was still alive and well, Sans was a bit of a friendless kid. Sure, he got along fine with his brothers (mostly) and yeah, he was decent to anybody who had the time (tolerance, really) to talk to him, but overall, he was often at home with his mother to keep her company, while Wingdings searched high and low for any sort of day job to keep them structured. She was actually the one who taught him all sorts of jokes, and he loved every single one of them. He even tried to come up with his own (due to his age at the time, 7 or 8, he wasn't at all great, but Mar enjoyed it dearly and even helped him with more original ones).
After Mar was brutally attacked by a group of monsters that fateful summer night (whether of Asgore's affiliation or not, we'll never know) and died a painful and slow death from those injuries, Sans had a mental shutdown.
He wouldn't talk or look at anybody for days on end. His already friendless personality developed an unusually aggressive behavior towards all to leave him alone. Which, unfortunately, worked. Any slight mention of that incident or even of his mother in general would make him furious and helpless and just full of self-hate.
One day, a few months after Mar's murder, his newfound loneliness caught the attention of older, shit-headed kids who felt the impulse to mess with somebody. I'll never know who exactly escalated it, but eventually, one of the kids says something triggering, which escalates to a 1 on 3 fight. Sans, despite his strength, is easily overpowered, but before a beating can occur, a blue bunny monster, 2 years older than Sans, (and one that Sans had rarely seen, but never really talked to) managed to use his wit to get the boys' hands off him and whatever other half-ass strength God gave him to dispel that fight and leave those small-minded bastards to run off, (presumably not to get caught).
Sans, still saddened and extremely pissed of what one of the kids said to him, begins to quietly leave, though it only causes the bunny boy to follow him, who tries to engage in conversation and see if he's alright.
At first, Sans ignores him, but soon he can't stand the "coddling" anymore, and simply tells the rabbit to "go away" and how he doesn't want his help or pity. This, in turn, pisses the bunny boy, who's confused by what's his deal and how Sans would rather let himself get hurt and unintentionally (without any knowing context) asks if that's what his mother taught him to view himself. This re-angers Sans, and with that, he punches him hard. The bunny boy stays in shock for a moment and then shoves him back in defense. A full-on boy fight happens in that neighborhood alleyway, and by the time both boys are tired, Sans has lost one of his adult teeth, and the bunny boy, a chunk of his ear.
They stay like that for a while, and as Sans breaks into a helpless sob, the bunny leaves him for a bit and takes something from his rendor and gives him a nice cream from his homemade work, something that was influenced from humans.
The following went something like this:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The stranger's voice sounded more persistent.
"C'mon. Take it. You're upset."
Sans snarled at him (or at least tried to).
"Fuck off."
"I will if you just take it."
Agitated, hungry, and far too exhausted to fight back anymore, Sans used his remaining upper body strength to snatch (though his hand trembled far too much to give the aggression he wanted to show) the red frozen thing from the bunny's hand, and took a large bite.
The texture was cool, crisp, and yet a sweetness covered his senses from head to phalanche. He froze, and for a moment, the bunny tilted his head in response.
He probably thinks I hate it.
"Think it's nice?"
Sans didn't bother to respond but simply gave a slow, affirmative nod without looking at him. He looked the type that would boast. A satisfied hum could be slightly heard afterward, somewhat confirming this.
"Well. I'm glad ya like it. Took me all day to get the taste perfected. It ain't much, but I hope it makes your day somewhat less shitty."
Sans searched for any sign of deception or condescension in that cheerful tone. Surprisingly, and thankfully, it wasn't.
"...thanks."
"No problem. If it's okay with you, I can walk you home in case those goons come back for a reround. It's dangerous out here, day or night. Does your mother even know you wander alone out here -"
The remaining sentences died off as soon as Sans felt his gaze return to him, and the gut-wrenching look of misery and hate resurfacing. He wanted to cry all over again but willed enough strength to not give any sort of satisfaction.
After what seemed forever, all that could be heard was a simple "Oh."
"..."
"I- I had no idea. I'm so sorry. I really am."
Took you forever to read the room.
Sans felt himself impulsively wanting to say that thought bitterly, but whatever could come out was interrupted by the bunny boy again.
"I know what you feel. I lost my mother too, recently. About 2 to 3 years back. It's not that long once you think about it. I only have my brother now."
Sans stared, slowly taking the time to look at the bunny again, seeing instead a downtrodden face that stared at the dirt that stained his already dirty clothes.
"I've only got my brothers too."
"Huh. No father?"
"Barely knew him. Wingdings never wants to talk about him."
"Wingdings?"
"My older brother."
"Oh. And your other brother?"
"Papyrus. He's about to be 4 soon."
"I'm really sorry."
"Don't be. It ain't your fault. I'm sorry, too. For being a dick...and for your loss as well."
"Don't be. It ain't your fault either."
....
The bunny turned his face up to look at him, and Sans finally truly looked at his face. They stared at each other, and suddenly, the bunny let out a goofy chuckle and said; "You look not half bad without that tooth there. My mama would have called you a ruffian."
Sans snorted before instinctively rolled his tongue to the spot where the now empty gap in his mouth remained. He couldn't but be impressed.
Wingdings is gonna kill me.
"Speak for yourself. It ain't gonna come back anytime soon. Neither with that nick in your ear."
The bunny placed a hand to cover that ear. His smile spreading farther. "At least it looks cooler."
"Really? No way."
"Oh no?"
The bunny paused again, his smile becoming more gentle as he slowly retracted his hand from his ear and lent it out in a greeting manner.
"Name's Tops."
Sans paused again, and for a moment, he felt as if it were another trap for him to fall into. But, that face was so genuine that it didn't seem likely.
So, hesitantly, he offered his hand and clasped it into a firm shake. Sans felt a smile he never knew was there grow.
"Sans."
i actually ADORE you so much you have no idea 😭 your feedback is my favourite thing ever i always get so excited when i see you’ve reblogged a fic 🥹🥹🥹
i cannot confirm nor deny whether or not they are mates 🫣 BUT i can promise you will find out something very juicy in the next chapter hehe
i appreciate this so so much, thank you my love 🥹🫶🏻
ghost in the wind — part three
summary: as feelings progress and truths unfold, you're left with a decision that could end your entire existence as you know it. the mother has a path for every soul, perhaps this was where yours was supposed to end.
warnings: swearing, mentions and brief descriptions of sexual abuse, consensual sexual themes, mentions of death and suicide.
word count: 5.8k
series masterlist
Feyre Archeron could never begin to imagine the pain and horror her older cousin had faced in the mortal lands. Rhysand hadn’t shared that image, hadn’t shared the memories he’d witnessed when he took some of that pain away from you.
She didn’t need her mate to share those visuals. Not when she felt every ounce of anguish through their bond. And every day since then, she had not been able to forget it.
Another two weeks had passed since your arrival, three in total of your being in the Night Court, and you were finally beginning to work through your trauma.
The offer had been there to find your own place of residence, to have that independence if you so wished. But after speaking with Feyre and Rhysand, after learning it was in fact Nesta who had imposed the leave Y/N be rule… you realised just how much you loved living in the House with your family.
Your friends.
So when you’d finally accepted Mor’s desperate pleas to take you shopping and fill your empty wardrobe…
“You’re going to need another dresser.”
You blinked, taking in the mess around you. Your entire closet was stuffed to the brim with dresses, blouses, sweaters, coats…
And the pile on your bed…there was no chance of those articles of clothing fitting in the closet too. Nesta was right, you definitely needed another dresser.
“Rhys is going to lose his shit when he finds out how much we spent.”
Your eyes widened at Nesta’s words, not quite picking up the teasing tone she spoke in. Mor shot her a look and threw a sweater at her face.
“She’s kidding,” Mor reassured. “My dear cousin has more money than sense. This won’t have even made a dent in his wealth.”
A relief, but that guilt began to creep its way into the pit of your stomach nonetheless. You were ashamed to admit that while you had fun shopping with Mor and your cousin, you hadn’t even taken a moment to realise how much everything had cost.
Nesta threw herself onto your bed, right on top of the throng of clothes you needed to find a place for. “I’m thinking we raid Rhys’ wine cellar tonight…”
A gleaming smile radiated off Mor’s face in agreeance and they both turned to you with upraised brows, expectant.
You pursed your lips, an apologetic smile on your face. “I told Rhys and Feyre that I’d babysit Nyx tonight.”
Nesta huffed and threw herself back on the mattress again, clothes bouncing and crinkling as she did so. Mor raised another brow, as if that wasn’t a good enough excuse.
“So? I’ve gotten drunk while watching Nyx loads of times.”
Nesta seethed at her. “One, that’s my nephew and I never want to hear you doing that again. And two, Y/N’s tolerance to alcohol won’t be as strong as ours. Two glasses and she’d be borderline incapacitated.”
Despite the slight insult, a laugh bubbled up your throat at just how right she was. Because you’d never even drank a sip of wine in your life, and Nesta knew that.
“I’m surprised you don’t have plans with Azriel…”
Mor was prying, you knew that. But you had no control over the heat that made its way across your neck and face.
“We’re just friends.” It wasn’t a lie. You’d spent a lot of time together the past couple of weeks, and he was one of the only people you felt truly comfortable around.
Mor gave you a knowing look. “Mhm, tell that to his shadows.”
You frowned. “What do you mean?”
Nesta scoffed, sitting up again. “Az’s shadows are basically an extension of himself.”
Mor hummed. “They don’t do anything unless Azriel commands it. Or sometimes, they’ll do something based on his emotions or thoughts. They’re so friendly with you because Azriel likes you.”
Your cheeks burned. You hadn’t realised his shadows touching you was a product of Azriel’s emotions. And the more you thought about it, there hadn’t been a time since you met him that they hadn’t touched you in some way.
You didn’t say that, though. No. Azriel clearly had no qualms about other people noticing, but that did not mean you were willing to gossip about it.
You did not need to allow silly fantasies to root their way in your mind. Azriel was your friend. And you were okay with him only wanting you as such.
Within an hour, Mor had disappeared to tend to her own duties and just as Nesta was about to leave for hers, she grabbed your wrist and motioned for you to look at her.
“I’m proud of you, you know.”
She didn’t need to say anything more. Those words were enough—more than enough. She saw you, she recognised everything you had been through and everything you did every day to overcome it.
I’m proud of you.
The last and only person to have ever told you that was your mother.
And because you saw her too, because you remembered fhe young mortal woman she was before her own struggles of turning Fae and adjusting to her new lifestyle, you found yourself saying, “I’m proud of you, too, Ness.”
Nyx had been wonderful to look after that night.
You’d gotten all the cuddles and boyish giggles, the beautiful little smiles and a few stinky diapers to go with it. You loved every moment with the little babe, and when Rhys and Feyre returned from their night off early in the morning, you offered to sit with him again whenever they needed it.
But despite how fulfilling and wonderful it had been, it had also hurt. You wondered if you’d ever be blessed with the opportunity to carry and birth your own child. Wondered if you’d ever even find someone to want you in that way.
Especially within Prythian.
It was another late night for you, though your reading sessions had taken you from the lounge to the library. And you no longer spent them alone.
Azriel sat on the couch opposite you, his nose deep in a book as you watched him. In the past week, you’d spent a lot of time together. It ranged from walks into the city to sitting and reading in the library until early hours of the morning.
You’d grown accustomed to his presence, his scent often able to calm any anxiety or qualms you felt. He had noticed, of course, he wasn’t a Spymaster for nothing. But Azriel did not mention the change in you whenever he was around.
He basked in it, in the way you appeared so much more comfortable with him. You weren’t afraid to speak up, to ask questions or acknowledge whatever was on your mind.
You were coming out of your shell and it warmed Azriel’s heart to know that he was somewhat of the cause for it.
“What does salacious mean?”
Azriel blinked repeatedly as your voice broke him from his thoughts. Salacious? His throat tightened. You’d often ask for definitions of things you were unsure on, sometimes even asking how to pronounce words you had never come across.
But salacious?
“Are you reading Nesta’s romance novels?” He quirked a brow.
Your lips involuntarily pouted at him, your own brows furrowing just slightly as you rested the open book back into your blanket-covered lap. “Yes. Why?”
Anxiety creeped its way into your stomach, rooting deep into your flesh from the inside out. Reminders of how this used to go flashed through your mind and suddenly, it felt like you were back in the village, back in the mortal lands and living with Rafe.
A tendril of darkness peaked at the corner of your vision and you focussed on it, watching it slowly dance across your knuckles and weave between your fingers in a calming manner.
Shadows. Azriel. Library. Velaris. Safe.
And just like that, the anxiety un-clawed its roots and crept away.
Azriel nodded ever so slightly to the book, knowing exactly what had just happened with you but acting as if he didn’t. “Salacious means…having inappropriate interest in sexual matters.”
There was no hiding the heat on your cheeks—the way it burned your soft skin. You tore your gaze from his as quickly as you could, unable to contain your slight shame and embarrassment.
But Azriel did not mind one bit.
Azriel had secrets. He supposed that being the Night Court’s Spymaster, it was to be expected. But these secrets were different from the others, something he kept locked tight in his mind for the past month.
And it wasn’t the secrets that had him moving closer and spending all of his time in the lower level of the House. No. That was very much you and your presence and whatever it was in your soul that called out to his.
He couldn’t stay away—though, it wasn’t like he even tried—for that pull was far too strong for even his willpower.
He had suspicions. Suspicions of a golden thread that started in his chest and ended in yours. He knew it was far fetched, knew he was only hurting himself by entertaining the complete insanity of the idea.
You were human. Mortal. And mortals didn’t have mates. He told himself so every day, and right after, like clockwork, he countered his own sound advice with the one thing that had been troubling him the most.
Because what mortal could plant and bloom a patch of tulips with nothing more than a thought and a touch. What mortal could speak so clearly to the earth and create life right before another’s eyes.
Despite the possible threat that could pose for his court and his family, Azriel had kept that tidbit of information to himself. Just for now. Just until he could make sense of it. Then, and only then, would he bring that information to light.
Because Azriel did not feel any ounce of danger or ill intent from you. He did not feel anything but warmth and intrigue and that godforsaken sensation when you grew excitable over something.
He couldn’t take that from you. Not when you were finally coming out of your shell, finally talking and laughing and going as far as joining him and Cassian for training twice a week.
“If sex makes you uncomfortable, there are other romance novels without that.”
Heat warmed your skin again. Shadows dared to intertwine with your fingers.
“No, it’s not that.” You played with his shadows, allowing them to caress your skin. “Sex doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I’ve just never had a good enough experience to understand much.”
He didn’t push, didn’t ask further questions. You wouldn’t be embarrassed for this, for something that was not your fault. You wouldn’t cower anymore, hide what you felt or thought. No longer would there be repercussions for speaking your mind.
So you spoke again.
“Rafe was the only person I’d ever…it’s just different to read it, to have it described as something enjoyable.”
Azriel’s knuckles turned white. Something enjoyable. He’d never experienced it to be anything but. His soul almost cleaved in two at the thought of what you’d endured.
Azriel dared to glance at you again. “Sex with the right person can be very enjoyable. It should be nothing but beautiful.”
He stiffened then, blood thumping in his ears. His shadows stilled, noticing the shift in your scent just as their master had. Sweet, all consuming arousal, and Azriel did not miss the way your thighs pressed together in impulse.
He swallowed thickly.
You broke his gaze, your own heart thumping sporadically as you stared at the pages on your lap. You couldn’t help your mind wandering to thoughts of him, of experiencing that with him. You knew it was wrong. So, so wrong.
“The thought of being intimate like that with someone new…” You couldn’t find the words to express the fear and anxiety that came with that thought.
Azriel listened intently, breathing deeply.
“I want to experience life the way it should be experienced. Not the way others have pushed it upon me.”
He leaned forward slightly, resting his book on his knee. “You control your life now, nobody else. If you want something, despite how wrong that desire may feel at first, take it.”
You wondered then if he could see into your mind as Rhysand could. If he could feel that shift in the air. If he could smell it on you. That want and desire. You would not apologise for it. Not anymore.
“But if it feels wrong, is that not my guts way of warning me?” You countered.
Azriel smiled, just barely. His knuckles still white. “It’s your guts way of protecting you. Because you’ve never experienced anything beyond what others bestowed upon you.”
Gods above.
An ache fluttered in your chest, just above your breast and you absentmindedly rubbed at it, disrupting the neckline of your shirt. Azriel’s eyes squinted at the exposed skin, at the mark that adored your flesh.
“Are you hurt?” His tone was primal, protective.
You paused your movements, following his gaze. “Oh, no.” You pulled your shirt a little lower. “Just a birthmark.”
He needed to compose himself, needed to stop allowing his mind to wander about other areas of your concealed skin. He felt like nothing more than a big brute.
Your soft, airy giggle woke him from his daze and he looked over to find tendrils of darkness caressing any inch of your skin that they could. Gods, if he didn’t have a leash on his emotions around you, how could he control his damned shadows.
“It’s like they have a mind of their own.”
They didn’t. But he couldn’t correct you. Not without exposing the fact that they only fed off their masters emotions and desires. Not without exposing the fact that Azriel wished he was the one touching your skin and not his shadows.
He swallowed again, throat dry.
“Nesta told me that they’re an extension of yourself. That they only act if you will it.” You didn’t know why you said it, why you thought you had the right to speak that truth.
But you would not apologise, even as Azriel remained silent for a few moments. Partly out of shock, partly in awe. But that was another thing he would not speak aloud.
“Sometimes they can act on behalf of my emotions. My desires and wants.”
You dared to meet his honey eyes. “And that’s what you want?” You were breathless, a feeling in your stomach that you’d never once experienced before. “You want to touch me?”
Neither of you knew where this confidence had come from, but Azriel did not question it and you did not apologise.
He shouldn’t say it, shouldn’t repeat the words that echoed in his mind and soul and body. But, Gods…he could not seem to regain any semblance of control when he stared into your eyes. He could not lie to you, could not hide what he felt.
“I want to do a lot of things.” The admittance was barely audible, nothing more than a breath he’d been holding but you heard it all the same. As though you’d demanded the words out of him.
You couldn’t look away, even if you tried. Your entire being was encapsulated by him. Your chest heaved, legs ached. The shadows slowly left your shoulders and neck, returning to their previous position at your fingers.
“But above all, I want you to be comfortable. Happy.”
Something compelled you to stand, the shadows seemingly guiding you to their master as your book toppled to the couch. He watched with a hungry gaze, one full of faltering self-control.
If you want something, despite how wrong that desire may feel at first, take it.
Take it.
Take it.
“I’m comfortable with you.”
The shadows moved like a breeze between you both, tugging you closer and closer. Nothing else mattered, not in that moment. Not when your soul felt like it was singing, like it was exactly where it longed to be.
Azriel stood slowly, towering above you once at his full height. You strained your neck to meet his gaze and he bent his to come closer. You could feel his breath dance with yours, could feel his hard chest press upon your soft one.
No part of you felt nervous, no part of you felt unworthy.
But Azriel…he didn’t know what to do. For weeks he’d been dreaming of this moment, dreaming of the taste of your lips, the touch of your skin. He slowly raised a scarred hand to caress your warm cheek, and you didn’t cower or shy away from his touch.
A test, perhaps. To see if you really could handle the intimacy of another male so soon after what you’d endured. You didn’t falter, didn’t break his gaze. He wanted you, more than he ever wanted anything else before.
“What you went through…”
“I don’t want to talk about what I went through,” you cut him off. “That was then, this is now. I don’t want to live in the past.”
Take it.
Take it.
Your lips…so close to touching his.
The shadows swirled in delight, excitement.
Azriel knew this wouldn’t be just a kiss. This wouldn’t be meaningless. He felt it, in every part of him, he felt the way your entire being sang to his. He wanted to lay his soul bare before you.
He itched to brush your hair behind your ear, to hold you and taste you. But Rhysand’s voice echoed through his mind, beckoning him for his assistance. He closed his eyes, huffed out a breath.
“Rhys is calling for me.”
Azriel stepped away, removed his palm from your skin. You swallowed, stepping back and letting your eyes fixate on the rug beneath your feet. He cleared his throat, struggling to reign in those shadows of his.
“I’ll come to you tonight…we can talk then.”
But had Azriel waited just a few moments longer, had he given into the urge to brush your hair from your face, he would’ve noticed the slight point that had formed at the top of your ears.
Azriel didn’t meet you in your chambers that night. And you didn’t see him the next morning. Or the day after that.
Cassian had mentioned that Rhys sent him on a mission. That he would be back in a few days.
But something was wrong, you could feel it in every inch of your body. An ache that only got worse with every passing moment. You tried to ignore it, tried to relax in a hot bath with soothing lavender oils. Nothing relieved the pain. Nothing soothed the ache.
And when you left your bathroom and found your once round ears now pointed, and a trail of tulips following in your wake, your legs carried you toward the kitchen before you had a moment to consider it. Cassian and Nesta sat at the table, giggling over their breakfast when you stumbled toward them.
“What’s happening?” Your panicked tone caught their attention, eyes wide as they stood and took in what lay before them.
From the stone ground, moss and grass and flowers bloomed as though you stood in the middle of a field. Daisies and buttercups sprouted in your hair, roots of trees tangling around your limbs.
Everything was so loud yet muffled. Like every word was screamed in your ear but somehow underwater as Cassian called out frantically to Rhysand. Neither of them went near you, even when Rhys flew through the open balcony doors, Feyre in tow.
They looked at you with nothing less than concern and fear.
“What in the Gods is happening to me?!” You demanded.
Rhysand held Feyre back as she attempted to near you, his gaze locked on you as he assessed the situation. But it wasn’t the flowers or grass or roots that he watched. It was you, and the way your crescent-moon birthmark glowed something violet.
Rhys had known, had suspected something lay dormant within you. From that moment he entered your mind, when he gazed upon that luscious field that seemed to call to you with promises of something new.
He’d never witnessed such before. Not in the most powerful of Fae had he ever stumbled across that.
With a very careful step forward, his gaze demanded yours. Feyre had told him of your mother, of her death and your marriage to Rafe. And his voice was soft when he finally asked the question that had been on his mind ever since.
“What happened the night your mother died?”
The world went still, cold. Feyre whirled to him in protest.
“Rhys—“
“—it was a house fire.”
All eyes turned to you, to the patches of bloom that haltered their growth.
Rhysand took another step closer. “Where were you?”
“I—“
A heat unlike any other licked at your skin, waking you from your peaceful slumber. A heat so unwelcomed that you bolted upright in a sheen of your own sweat.
You could hear the wood of your cottage crackling under a burning flame, and smoke quickly infiltrated your room. You coughed, attempting to swat it away as you squinted in the darkness.
“Mama!?” You called out, panic stricken in your voice and body.
Fear began to cripple you, began to take away any sense of self preservation. You couldn’t leave your bed. Your door now engulfed in flames, you screamed.
“Help! Someone, please help!”
No one was coming. This was the end. You couldn’t move, couldn’t get to your beloved mother. A shrill cry, unlike anything you’d ever heard before, split your heart in two.
A scream of pure agony and fear tore through your throat, your eyes clenched shut as you gave your body over to the fire.
Only the next breath you breathed was clean and cold. And your sheets were no longer beneath you, no. Now you laid on the rich soil outside of your home, your fingers rooting themselves into the dirt.
You screamed and sobbed, unable to do anything but watch as the fire claimed your home and your mother.
You were sobbing, collapsed to the ground as you struggled to breathe at the memory.
Rhysand dared another step closer, kneeling before you now and his eyes held such sorrow, such remorse.
“Y/N…” he spoke softly. “Was your mother ever accused of being a witch?”
Nesta seethed, threatening. “Rhysand, that’s—“
“How do you know that?” Everything felt very, very still. No one should have known that. No one of these lands should have known that.
Rhys didn’t answer your question. And despite the sound of large wings breezing through the sky, you did not look away from the High Lord. Not even as Azriel rushed into the House and his heart sunk at what he bore.
“The day I entered your mind and took some of your pain away, I felt something. Something within you that I have never, in my 500 years of life, felt before.”
Azriel took a step closer. He should have said something when he first noticed the flowers. Because now, whatever power you had…it was consuming you.
“I’d like to try something,” Rhysand proposed.
You struggled to keep your breathing even. “What is it?”
Another step closer, a warm hand on yours.
“I’d like to enter your mind as far back as it will allow me. Just to see if I can find something.”
Violet eyes watched yours. “Find what?”
He squeezed your hand in reassurance. “Something to make sense of this.”
A moment of pause, to take in your surroundings. The flowers and soil had sprouted to cover the entire expanse of the lounge floor, your friends and cousins standing just beyond the brush of it.
Eyes flickered to something hazel. Azriel. He stood in the soil, flora coating his ankles and he struggled to keep a tight leash on the shadows that fought to reach you.
You looked back at Rhysand.
“Will it hurt?”
He shook his head. “No, not if you don’t resist.”
That suddenly sounded an awful lot like your past. Memories of Rafe pinning you to the bed—scolding, reprimanding, promising no pain if you didn’t resist.
This wasn’t like that, you had to remind yourself. You were safe. They only wanted to help. To understand.
Azriel stepped closer, ignoring the silent warning that Rhysand whispered into his mind. A scarred hand out held, you took it. And Rhysand took that moment of distraction to enter your mind.
The first memory he saw was one from just days before. You and Azriel reading in the library, the shadows that swirled your fingers and arms, the near-kiss that escalated into nothing.
He dug deeper. The next, of you and Azriel again, exploring the city where you left a trail of green and brown tulips in your wake on the embankment of the river.
Deeper and deeper, until the memories showed you living in the mortal lands. A blow to the face, to your stomach and your head. Rafe seething above you as he shouted and belittled you.
Deeper, to a memory of your husband pinning you to the mattress, of his body crushing yours as he stole everything you never offered.
Every memory Rhysand met, you re-lived them.
A little deeper and he was watching you at the Archeron household, helping Elain plant seeds, watching Feyre paint, reading with Nesta.
Deeper and deeper he went, passing the memories of the fire, of your mother, until he found exactly what he was looking for.
“She is my child too, Selenthia. You cannot keep her from me.” A voice you did not recognise. A memory you did not recall.
“For her protection, I will do what I must.” Selenthia seethed, coddling you closer to her chest. “No one can know what she is, or she’ll be hunted for the rest of her life.”
The unknown male huffed. He was beautiful. Tall and lean, strong and commanding. But there was something about him. Something not quite right.
“So you plan to lock her away for the rest of her life?”
Selenthia bared her teeth. “I would never lock my child away. She will live her life as a mortal. I won’t subject her to a life like mine or yours.”
A moment of silence. “You cannot hide her from what she is.” He spoke softer now, edging close to peer at you, his daughter.
“What do you plan to do when she first bleeds? When her ears point and her power grows—“
“That won’t happen.” There was no room for discussion in Selenthia’s voice. She placed a finger over your heart, a familiar violet glow permitting from her skin to yours.
“What are you doing?” That male’s voice, cold once more.
“I’m burying her power. So long as this wyrd remains on her skin, she’ll be safe.”
Selenthia pulled away, just enough to take a look at the mark that marred your skin. A mark two shades darker than the rest of your flesh, the shape of a crescent moon and no larger than a fingernail.
“There. Nothing more than a birthmark.”
Rhysand retreaded from your mind, panting and shaking. Tears streamed down his flushed face, your own skin staining with silver, too.
“What is it?” Nesta demanded, daring a step closer.
But those tulips and daisies and buttercups…the soil and grass and roots, they all began to sink into the ground until nothing but the florals in your hair remained.
“My mother…she…she was a witch. A healing earth witch. And my father—he…”
“Your father was Fae.” Azriel breathed, his eyes focused on the point of your ears that peeked through your hair and flowers.
“He was of the Night Court. A High Fae male.” Rhysand added gravely.
Azriel’s hold on the shadows loosened and he allowed them to caress you, comfort you. Your hand never left his.
You pulled away from Rhysand, clutching at your chest—at that crescent moon you always thought was a birthmark. Your mothers protection all along.
“When you crossed the wall into the Fae lands, your power tried to break through. It was your mothers mark that had been keeping it buried with you all these years.”
You dared a look at your cousins. But they looked at you with nothing but sorrow and anguish. No fear. They did not fear you, they did not pity you. In their eyes all you could see was longing. A longing for you to no longer live in such agony and hardships.
“Our mothers were sisters. Does that mean—“
“I don’t think so,” Rhysand cut you off. “If they held the magic you do, I believe their power would have shown by now. They were Made. So it’s possible the Cauldron could’ve interfered with it if that were the case.”
It was too much. All of it. Reliving those memories again, seeing your father… You couldn’t do this. Couldn’t have magic and powers. You could not be half Fae, half witch.
It would be easy to give up. It would be so easy to ignore it until it killed you. So easy to just let go of everything. But a pounding in your soul begged you not to. Begged you to fight with everything you had. Begged you to live.
“Burn the mark.”
All attention snapped to you, flickering from your face to the mark on your chest that finally stopped glowing.
“Are you insane?” Nesta seethed.
You looked at her. “I don’t think I’d be far off to guess that if I don’t burn this mark, this…power will consume me entirely. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be so lost because I have no idea who I am. This is who I am, whether I like it or not. I won’t run anymore.”
Feyre stepped closer, crouching to your level and taking your spare hand in hers. Azriel still held tight to the other. “If you wish to burn it, it will unleash whatever power you have at full force. You don’t have any training, any control over it.”
You felt sick to your stomach. “I don’t want to die, Fey.”
And that was enough to enrage Feyre in a way she’d never once felt before. “You are not going to die. Do you understand me?”
Azriel squeezed your hand, begging for you to look at him. You couldn’t. You couldn’t stomach the thought of him looking at you any different than he had three days ago.
“Rhys, fetch Madja. We will burn the mark in a controlled environment. Where any fallout can be contained.”
You shook your head, not willing to risk a single soul because of your selfish decision to live.
“No,” you said. “Drop me to the mountains and I’ll burn it myself.”
Nesta scoffed. “Oh, you are insane.”
You seethed at her. The first ounce of anger you’d truly shown. The first time you’d ever directed it at anyone but yourself.
“This isn’t your decision. I will not risk anyone. Azriel can take me to the mountains and you can all keep your distance. At least until it’s safe.”
Until it’s safe. As if you knew for certain you’d survive it. You truly weren’t sure you would. There was nothing more to discuss, your tone made that clear enough.
“Fly me, winnow me…whatever. Just do it now before I change my mind.”
Within a blink, your body was shivering and you were no longer in the House of Wind. Shadows encased your entire body, darkness swarming every inch of you. You said nothing as Azriel held you, nothing at all as he flew you across Velaris and toward the highest mountain just outside of the city.
Only when he landed, when he refused to remove his hold from you, did the darkness dissipate and hazel eyes gazed into yours.
“I’m staying with you.”
“No, you’re not. I won’t risk your life, Azriel.”
He set you to your feet, holding your hands now to keep you close. A plea of desperation swam in his eyes, his entire body yearning to take you and find another way to fix this.
“There is no other option. If I don’t burn this mark, I don’t know what my power might do. It might kill me, it might destroy this city. I cannot risk anyone’s life for mine.”
Azriel parted his lips to speak but you shook your head, squeezing his hands.
“If I don’t survive this—“
“Don’t.”
“Please, listen to me.” Silver lined your eyes, blurring your vision. “If I don’t survive this, I want you to know how special your friendship has been to me. How much I care for you, for your family.” A sob tore through your throat. “And I am so incredibly sorry for burdening you all in this way.”
You reached on the tips of your toes and pressed your lips to his. Warmth and love and the most raw emotion could be felt between you both. An apology for not having longer, a prayer that there would still be time.
A fuse lit within the pit of your stomach, in the pit of Azriel’s. Tears stained your lips, stained his. In that moment, you were one. Whole, as though you always should have been.
You pulled away first, forcing your hands from his hold. You took several steps back, blinking through the distorted vision and swiping away and evidence of the fear that crippled you.
A puff of violet darkness misted beside Azriel as Rhysand winnowed to the mountains. Pain flicked through his eyes, regret and the same sorrow you saw in your cousins.
You did not meet his gaze.
“Summon a fire.”
He did as you asked. And handed you a blade.
You did not grant them another look, did not give into the pleading in your mind to watch them leave. Or else you would’ve seen Rhysand drag Azriel off that mountain. You would’ve seen the anguish on the Shadowsingers face.
Alone. As you had been your whole life. Though the weeks spent in Velaris had given you a taste of what could’ve been. You’d treasure those memories in the Hereafter. Those and the precious ones of your late mother.
For they were all you had left.
You did not allow another tear to fall. Not as you hovered the blade over the flame, not as you tugged your shirt down and took a deep breath.
For if all you were ever meant to be was a ghost in the wind, you were content to know you’d reunite with your mother soon. Where you would no longer feel such pain.
You didn’t want to die. But if this was all the time you were fated to have, then so be it. Better you than someone else.
“Keep them safe.” A whisper to the winds, if they deigned to listen.
With a final breath, you pressed the scorching blade against the mark on your skin and the entirety of your captive power unleashed upon the mountain as your body allowed it to consume you. Until you saw and heard and felt nothing at all.
From below, the city shook, a thundering boom and a gust of aftershock and pelting mountain debris that blew the Inner Circle back.
Then there was silence.
And Azriel’s soul bellowed.
a/n: so a LOT happened in this chapter and there is still a lot more to happen, i'm hoping i can fit it into two parts but it may be stretched into three, we'll have to see!! i'm so grateful for all the love you guys have been giving this series and i am so excited for you to find out how it all ends!!
if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated <3
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Oh God, oh wow.
Yesterday I gone to bed not expecting something "big" from my previous post. But today I woke up and saw this
And this
And THIS
And many other wishes, love and support. And all of this made me cry again, in a good way. Thank you so much. Thank you all. Words are not enough to describe how grateful I am to you. You're very help me. I'm smiling like an idiot)
And don't worry about school, my mom and dad decided to transfer me to distance learning. So now I can come to visit someone and learn from my phone. Good news.
Now I'm going to read all of this beautiful staff.
And you know what - let my so-called friends go to all four sides. I'm happy to have friends here.
Cause we are friends, right?
"You have pointed out my flaws again as if I don't already see them"
Don't let people get you down!!!!
Because you are amazeballs!!!!
People are just jelous of you!!!!
You are the light that shines!!!
Read books guys
I'm telling you. Read books. There's an entire world of dead useful knowledge contained. There are so many books that have a TON of useful information while also being easier to read than textbooks.
Listen, I know the internet's gone to pieces. Misinformation is practically the only thing you can be certain of with any search engine.
But books.
I mean yeah, there are books that are inaccurate. Or outdated. But for the most part, if someone cares enough to compile so much information on a subject together into a book, they care enough to make sure it's right. After all, it's not so easy to edit it like a blog once it's published. They're not spending so much time and labor putting together random units of information they stumbled across on the internet. They're doing this with genuine research and careful time and knowledge.
Let me emphasize one more time that there are so many books with real information that are NOT COLLEGE TEXTBOOKS (though those can be incredible sources of information too!). There is real information out there in very easy to process formats if you're willing to open a book and thumb through the index, table of contents, or even just all the pages.
...I mean, it does require us to care a little bit. It's certainly not as fast and convenient as a quick internet search. But it is so much more reliable, and if you care to know more about a subject I think it's important to care enough to get some solid information about it and not just a once-and-done.
Side note, did you know the Dewey Decimal System has a number for everything? Actually everything? Want to pick up a book on crochet or leatherworking? Dewey's got you. Learn about moths? Yup. Politics? Public speaking? Languages? Writing? Architecture? Librarians have master's degrees specifically so they can help you find things in the DDS (and also for other reasons but ya know).