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dee-writes-smut · 1 month

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SPRING (Part One)

FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader

SUMMARY on a mission to discuss peace negotiations with the Illyrians, you find yourself in a tricky spot without your best friend. (part two is up)

CONTENT WARNINGS descriptions of injuries, pain, torture, depression, and misogyny. This one is dark, please ensure you are feeling comfortable and safe.

AUTHORS NOTE today I woke up and chose violence apparently. This fic is unbelievably long and It's been a while, so I thought I would appease you while I continue to work on the second part of the mark fic. I hope you all enjoy. <3

In the gentle embrace of spring, as nature stirred from its winter slumber, the world seemed to come alive in a symphony of sights and sounds. The air grew lively with vibrant colors of blossoming trees, their delicate leaves unfurling, whispering hope upon the wind. Each leaf and flower, each insect and animal all seeming to dance in the sunlight and bask in new chances of growth. It was truly a testament to beauty and resilience, to life.

But, amidst the beauty of renewal, there lingered a sense of sorrow, a deep heaviness that hung in the air like a dark cloud just breaching above the horizon. Spring had brough not only the promise of new beginnings, but a painful reminder for all that had been lost and forgotten. And as rain fell softly upon the earth, calling to mother nature to gift the soil with fertility, memories of pain consumed you. The gentle patter of raindrops against the earth did not serve to remind you of new beginnings, but set a somber soundtrack in your thoughts, a melancholy melody that echoed the ache you felt in your heart.

As pollen filled the air, coloring the wind and triggering allergies that left you sneezing and sniffling, you couldn't help but feel trapped within the confines of your own sorrow, isolated from the prospering world around you. Vibrant colors and sweet scents did nothing to comfort, rather building a prison of sorts, confining you to the memories of the person you once were, of the life you used to lead.

(Springtime, The Illyrian Mountains)

As you and Azriel ventured into the heart of the Illyrian steeps on a mission, the harsh terrain mirrored the cold, hardened demeanor of its inhabitants. The people of this unforgiving land, with their anger and hostility, were the only semblance of family you had ever known. Yet, their begrudging tolerance of your existence only fueled the resentment that simmered within you. How could you ever understand a people who would dare to strip you of your wings, your very essence of freedom, as a cruel display of dominance and worthlessness?

"Interesting how Rhys sends the two of us, who would sooner see the Illyrians burn, for peace negotiations," you remarked with a bitter chuckle, nudging Azriel to draw him from his thoughts. Azriel, your closest friend for three centuries, had become a steadfast companion since that fateful night when you first crossed paths with Mor at Rita's. Though the details of that encounter remained a blur, the bond forged between you and Azriel stood firm.

"Cass is stuck with Nesta. She’s been feeling off lately, she senses something stirring, but isn’t sure what. Elain shared her sentiments," Azriel grumbled, his countenance slipping into the stoic mask of the shadowsinger, overshadowing his gentle and kind-hearted nature that was generally reserved for you and the rest of your chosen family.

"So, Rhys sent the only other two Illyrians he knows. How convenient for us," you retorted, your wings instinctively folding in close as you navigated the lifeless streets of the Illyrian camp. By now, they had learned better than to challenge your presence for too long.

"Just stick close," Azriel advised, his voice tinged with caution. “There are still many men who wish to see you wingless and under their influence.”

You rolled your eyes and let out an exasperated huff but nodded in agreement. "Stubborn bastards," you muttered under your breath.

In hindsight, perhaps openly disparaging them while walking through their camp wasn't the wisest choice. But they were well aware of your disdain for them, just as you knew the depths of their animosity towards you. They had cast you out like prey when you were just a child, and you had since made it your life's mission to rise above them in every way possible. The mere thought of your superiority grated on them to no end, and you reveled in it.

Azriel chuckled softly, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. He nudged you back in the side as you approached Lord Devlon’s home, the both of you sharing a sullen look of understanding before Azriel knocked.

The response was immediate, Lord Devlon swinging the door open with a scowl that mirrored Azriel's own grim expression. "I don't care that you force us to let our women keep their wings," he spat, his tone dripping with disdain, "but I will not negotiate with one. Especially her."

Azriel's growl rumbled deep in his chest, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "I don’t give a fuck about your preferences," he snapped, his voice laced with barely restrained anger.

You sighed, your wings flaring behind you in agitation as you shot a withering glare at Devlon. Barely missing Azriel's own, which mirrored your movements, his solidarity unwavering.

Turning to Azriel, you spoke with a sense of resignation. "Go on. I'll catch up with Emerie and a few others."

Though reluctant to part ways, Azriel relented, “Fine,” he growled, knocking his forehead gently against yours. It was a gesture you both shared, a silent reassurance that you were never truly alone in the face of adversity. With a nod of encouragement, you turned and walked off Devlon’s steps, making your way back into town to seek solace in the company of the only Illyrian, aside from your bat boys, whom you found more than tolerable.

After sharing a drink with Emerie and catching up for a few hours, you felt a tug of responsibility urging you to check in on Devlon and Azriel. Yet, deep down, a part of you secretly hoped that Azriel had taken matters into his own hands and dealt with the pompous leader once and for all, though you dared not voice such thoughts aloud.

As you stepped outside, the tranquility of spring in the mountains enveloped you like a comforting embrace. The harsh winds of winter had given way to a gentle, cool breeze that whispered through the trees, carrying with it the promise of warmer days ahead. It was a peaceful scene, if one could ignore the harsh realities of life in this unforgiving land, and the unspeakable horrors inflicted upon its women.

You closed your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to bask in the crisp, cool air, a stark contrast to the warmer weather of Velaris. But before you could fully immerse yourself in the tranquility of the moment, they struck.

It happened so quickly, the ambush catching you off guard. Before you could react, a blow to the back of your head sent you reeling, darkness descending upon you like a heavy shroud. In the blink of an eye, consciousness slipped away, leaving you vulnerable and defenseless against the unknown assailants. If you had had the chance to process the situation, perhaps embarrassment would have crept in at being caught off guard so easily. But the darkness of unconsciousness claimed you swiftly, dragging you down into its depths before you could even muster a response.

"Wake up, whore," a voice hissed in your ear, jolting you from the haze of unconsciousness. Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to make sense of your surroundings, the harshness of the voice sending a shiver down your spine. Blinking against the darkness that enveloped you, you felt a heavy weight pressing down upon your head—a bag, thick and suffocating, that obscured your vision and when you moved—thrashed— against the seat you were in, you quickly realized that you were bound.

Shit.

The bag over your head muffled your senses, leaving you completely disoriented and vulnerable to your captors. Panic surged through you at this revelation, causing a sudden spark of energy to send you thrashing against your restraints, deep realization sinking in your stomach with sickening dread.

The voice that had startled you awake, one that sounded awfully familiar, chuckled darkly, a deep, cruel sound that sent shivers cascading down your spine. “No need to struggle, sweetheart,” he mocked, “you’re not going anywhere.”

Your heart hammered against your chest as you strained to make sense of your surroundings, to recognize even the slightest detail, but all you could make out was the stench of damp earth and mildew. Fear clawed its way down your throat, leaving deep gauges as you tried to keep your composure, to get out of this place, this nightmare, before it was too late.

“Where am I?” You growled, your voice heavy with defiance as you demanded your location, only a slight lilt of fear made its way past your throat.

“You're not the one making demands here,” he sneered, tone dripping with pure malice. He must have been an Illyrian. No one else would have the gall to try something like this, either too afraid of you, or too afraid of Azriel’s wrath. Just the thought of him filled you with a desperate longing, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to consume you.

As you struggled to piece together your next move, the sound of footsteps approached, echoing ominously in the darkness. You braced yourself for what was to come, steeling your resolve to survive whatever horrors awaited you.

The bag was roughly pulled from your head, and you blinked against the sudden onslaught of light, squinting to make out the figure before you. As your vision cleared, you found yourself face to face with your captor, Lyris, who you used to train with as a kid, his eyes cold and calculating as he loomed over you with a wicked grin.

As the realization of your fate settled like a heavy stone in your chest, Lyris approached, his steps deliberate and purposeful. He wielded a gleaming dagger in his hand, the cold metal glinting in the dim light of the chamber. Your heart hammered in your chest as fear gripped you like a vice, every instinct screaming at you to fight, to flee, but the chains binding you rendered you helpless.

With a cruel smirk, Lyris loomed over you, his eyes alight with sadistic delight. "Time to finally take what's mine, what those bastard whoresons took from me so many years ago," he sneered, the dagger poised menacingly in his grasp.

Your breath caught in your throat as the blade descended, slicing through the air with a sickening sound that made your blood run cold. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the searing pain that was sure to follow.

The first cut came swift and merciless, a sharp agony tearing through your being as the blade bit into your flesh. A strangled cry tore from your lips, the sound echoing off the walls of the chamber as your world exploded into a whirlwind of pain and terror.

“Look at these pretty wings,” Lyris hummed, his voice filled with the rasp of adrenaline. “I cannot wait to hang them on the wall of our home. To keep you quiet, pliant, and filled with my children; as you should have been from the start.” His voice, one you used to cherish, one that reminded you of the little boy who would sneak away to help you, to train you against the backs of his mentors, was now torture.

But the torment did not end there. With ruthless precision, Lyris continued to wield his blade, each stroke bringing fresh waves of agony that threatened to consume you whole. You writhed and thrashed against your restraints; your cries of anguish lost in the darkness of the chamber. Through tear-blurred vision, you caught a glimpse of your wings, once symbols of freedom and strength, now mangled, bloodied and broken beyond recognition. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks as you watched helplessly, the realization of your loss hitting you like a physical blow.

And as the last remnants of your wings fell away, severed and discarded like worthless scraps of flesh, a hollow emptiness settled in the pit of your stomach. You were no longer whole, no longer the person you once were. You had been robbed of your identity, your essence, and in their place remained only the cruel scars of your torment.

In the oppressive darkness of your captivity, each passing moment stretched into an eternity, the weight of your mutilation a relentless burden threatening to crush not just your body, but your very spirit. Bound and helpless, you lay upon the cold stone floor, every breath a labored struggle against the suffocating silence that surrounded you. The air itself felt heavy with despair, pressing down upon you like a suffocating blanket, leaving you gasping for air, for relief, for any semblance of hope.

Your limbs, once strong and nimble, now felt heavy and leaden, shackled by chains that dug into your flesh with cruel insistence, leaving angry welts in their wake. Each movement sent a jolt of searing pain shooting through your battered body, a constant reminder of the brutality you had endured.

Amidst the shadows that danced like malevolent phantoms in the night, a soft rustle of wings broke through the oppressive stillness, the whisper of shadows weaving through the air like an ancient, mournful melody. Your heart surged in your chest as a familiar presence enveloped the room, a warmth that banished the icy chill that had settled deep within your bones, offering a glimmer of solace in the midst of the suffocating darkness.

Azriel.

With a grace honed by centuries of training, Azriel moved with silent determination, his movements a symphony of lethal precision and raw emotion. Each step he took seemed to reverberate through the chamber, echoing the pounding of your heart as he closed in on your captors, his eyes burning with a fierce determination that bordered on desperation.

The sound of steel meeting flesh rang out like a mournful dirge, punctuated by the anguished cries of your assailants as they fell before Azriel's relentless onslaught, their tormentors becoming the tormented. The room erupted into chaos, the air thick with the scent of blood and sweat as Azriel moved with a fluidity that bordered on otherworldly, his wings unfurling like a dark, protective cloak as he danced amidst the shadows. It was a sight to behold, a dance of death performed with a grace and precision that belied the brutality of its execution, a testament to the depth of his devotion and the strength of his love.

Through the haze of pain and fear, a surge of gratitude washed over you, a profound sense of relief that threatened to overwhelm your senses. As Azriel approached, his hand outstretched in silent invitation, you reached out to him, your fingers trembling with exhaustion and relief, your heart overflowing with a love and gratitude that defied words. In that moment, as his steady presence enveloped you, you knew that you were not alone in the darkness.

“Gods, what did they do to you,” Azriel breathed, his own hands shaking as he helped you to your feet, the weight of your brokenness heavy in his arms. You swayed unsteadily, a marionette with severed strings, before collapsing against him, the pain of your loss too great to bear alone.

“Did-” You are cut off by a hiss of pain, the sharp intake of breath a dagger through your chest. You took a moment to collect yourself, the darkness at the edges of your vision threatening to engulf you. Azriel, a bastion of strength in the storm, gently guided you to the cold stone floor, his touch a lifeline in the suffocating darkness. “Did you kill him?” you managed to choke out, the words heavy with desperation and fear, each syllable a struggle against the encroaching oblivion.

“Who?” Azriel's voice was a low rumble, his grip on your hand grounding you in the present moment, a beacon of stability amidst the chaos that threatened to consume you both. Outside the confines of your enclosure, the sounds of chaos echoed in the air, a symphony of violence and retribution made in your honor.

“Lyris. Did you kill him?” Your voice wavered, the weight of your words a burden too heavy to bear alone. You felt lightheaded, the loss of blood draining your strength with each passing moment.

“Lyris? He was here?” Azirel's growl reverberated in the cavernous space, a primal sound that sent shivers down your spine. He was the only one you confided in about your history with the Illyrian male, the scars of your past laid bare before him.

You sniffled and sobbed, the floodgates of grief finally breaking as you allowed yourself to mourn the loss of your wings in the safety of Azriel’s presence. His arms wrapped around you, a shield against the storm raging within you, offering solace in the face of unspeakable loss.

“My wings?” you asked through sobs, the words a whisper against the backdrop of your anguish.

“Not here.” He whispered mournfully, his voice a lament for all that had been taken from you. You felt yourself deflate further, the realization settling like a heavy stone in the pit of your stomach. Your once friend, now tormentor, had escaped with the remnants of your shattered dreams, leaving you broken and bereft in his wake.

In the aftermath of your rescue, the pain that gnawed at your soul was not just physical but a deep, unrelenting ache that seemed to permeate every fiber of your being. With each labored breath, you felt the absence of your wings like a gaping wound, a constant reminder of the brutality inflicted upon you.

As Azriel guided you through the darkness, his presence a flickering candle in the void, you stumbled and faltered, your body racked with tremors of agony. Each step sent shards of pain shooting through your mutilated form, a relentless onslaught that threatened to consume you whole.

The absence of your wings was not just a physical loss but a spiritual one, a cruel reminder of all that had been taken from you. Once a symbol of freedom and strength, they were now nothing more than cruel stumps, a mockery of what once was. With each beat of your heart, the pain pulsed like a funeral dirge, a haunting melody that echoed through the caverns of your soul. You longed to scream, to rage against the injustice of it all, but the darkness of your despair swallowed your cries before they could escape your lips.

And through it all, Azriel remained by your side, his presence a silent witness to your suffering. But even his steady presence could not chase away the shadows that threatened to consume you, leaving you adrift in a sea of despair.

As you emerged into the cool embrace of freedom, blinking against the harsh light of day, you felt a sense of emptiness wash over you—a hollow void that seemed to stretch on for eternity. The road ahead loomed dark and uncertain, a twisting labyrinth of pain and sorrow that threatened to swallow you whole.

[NEXT]

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koiiiiijiii · 4 months

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When are you gonna come back to tumblr?? I missed your writings

im kinda back in windbreaker fandom after such a long time!!😭😭

pairing: wooin x reader oneshot

inspired: by this fic!!

warnings: possessive wooin

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈┈┈౨ৎ┈┈┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

As the evening unfolds, a breathtaking canvas of colors adorns the sky, signaling the approaching culmination of another day. The sun, casting its golden glow on the landscape, has almost dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a canvas of warm hues that dance across the sky. It is a tranquil spring evening, where the air carries a gentle warmth and the scent of blooming flowers whispers promises of renewal.

Amidst this natural spectacle, a lone figure finds solace within the confines of a car. The vehicle, parked on the quiet street, becomes a cocoon of nostalgia as Wooin sits, enveloped in the soft embrace of twilight. The ambient glow accentuates the contours of his face, casting a reflective glow in his eyes. As the last remnants of sunlight play upon the windshield, Wooin take off his yellow sun glasses, rubbing his eyes and sigh, leaning back in the driver's seat and throwing his hands behind his head.

Immersed in the tranquil ambiance, the guy is transported to a realm of memories. The cares of the present dissolve, and he closes his eyes and dissolves in memories of a carefree childhood The whispers of the evening breeze seem to carry fragments of forgotten conversations, and the distant laughter of yesteryears reverberates in his mind. It reminds him of that exact evening with you when u fall down from your bike.

Nothing disturbs the serenity of this moment; the world outside the car fades away, and the only reality is his dearest memories about his childhood. It flooded back, each one a testament to the deep bond that had woven its way into his heart. Each passing second is an a chance to relive cherished moments, and a reminder of the beauty encapsulated only in his head.

As the sky transitions from the vibrant palette of sunset to the velvety canvas of night, the guy remains seated in the car.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

It was a lazy summer afternoon, the air thick with the scent of blooming flowers. The two of you raced your bikes down the familiar streets, the wind tousling your hair as you giggled in pure joy. In the midst of the laughter, Wooin decided that it was time to stop giving in to you and, having overtaken you, drove a few more meters when suddenly the boy heard the sounds of a fall and your piercing squeak. Stopping, he turned around and drove up to you and saw that you fall down from your bike and injured your knees. Wooin, always , was by your side in an instant. His concern etched across his face, he gently helped you up, his touch reassuring. The grazes on your knees, though minor, warranted attention, and Wooin took it upon himself to mend the wounds.

As he carefully bandaged your knees, a playful smile adorned his face. "You're too silly," he teased, his voice a comforting melody. "But don't worry, I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

In that moment, as he pressed an innocent, childish kiss to your cheek, something shifted within Wooin. The realization, though dormant at the time, had taken root. He cherished you like family, a sister he vowed to be always there for.

As the years unfolded, the backdrop of childhood innocence began to fade. The more he watched you grow, the more he discovered the beauty that had always been there, hidden in plain sight. His feelings, once confined to sibling love, began to transform, evolving into a complex tapestry of emotions he couldn't easily unravel.

It wasn't a sudden revelation, but a gradual understanding that blossomed like the flowers in spring. The laughter that echoed through the years became tinged with a bittersweet harmony, and Wooin found himself he had no idea how to deal with this.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

The echoes of childhood laughter faded, replaced by the quiet whispers of Wooin's current emotions. Through years he had come to terms with the realization that his feelings for you had transcended the boundaries of sibling love, yet the words lingered unspoken on his tongue. Fear gripped him every time he thought that he might lose your precious connection that you shared all these years.

Growing up and all the past years have made him cynical moments of work and attitude towards people, but not towards you. Oh no...You and your friendship was a sanctuary, a realm where Wooin could be himself again without pretense. Of course, he sometimes teased and made fun of you, always knowing the limits of his jokes and ridicule.

By now his favorite part of the week was your sleepovers, filled with shared secrets and laughter, were moments he treasured more than he dared to admit. He reveled in the fact that you share gossip about your latest beef with that bitch from your class or how you just learn that your ex classmate already were pregnant from some random boy. And oh God, at such moments he realized how selfish he was, he didn’t care about all this little gossip, but how he craved your attention, how greedy he was for your presence in his life and for every bit of your attention to him.

And tonight was no exception - he is here again, with you, in the comfort of your apartment and your warmth . As the night of the sleepover unfolded, Wooin found himself deeply he is mired in the web of possessive desires silent yearning that clawed at the edges of his consciousness. The familiarity of your presence was both a comfort and a torment.

As laughter after some stupid joke filled the room once again, Wooin couldn't resist the urge to draw you closer. The innocent act of tickling, a playful gesture he had employed countless times before, took on a new meaning. With calculated precision, he traced the contours of your skin, knowing every sensitive spot that would elicit laughter. It was more than a game; it was a guise, a means to revel in the fleeting moments of skin-to-skin contact.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

In the quiet of the night, as sleep claimed the room, Wooin's gaze lingered on you with an intensity that bordered on obsession. The vulnerability in your slumber, the soft rise and fall of your chest, became a canvas for his unspoken desires. He marveled at the way your features softened, the moonlight casting a gentle glow upon your face.

Yet, beneath the admiration lay a possessiveness that he dared not acknowledge. The selfish desire to claim you as his own, to have you close and exclusive, warred with the reality that you saw him as nothing more than a brother. It was a battle he fought within the confines of his own heart, a struggle that left him yearning for more while fearing the consequences of such greed.

The nights when you shared a room, like now, the proximity of your sleeping forms, fueled Wooin's internal turmoil. He reveled in the intimacy, the warmth shared in the silence, all the while wrestling with the knowledge that his feelings were his burden alone to bear.

#[ ~ koi.talks🗣]#x reader #windbreaker x reader #windbreaker webtoon #windbreaker #webtoon #windbreaker headcanon #wooin windbreaker #wooin x reader #wooin #wooin headcanon #headcanon #windbreaker imagine #joker windbreaker #wind breaker #windbreaker smut

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slavicafire · 5 months

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something ends, something begins.

reflection, rambling, and ritual for the winter solstice - and beyond. part one: longest night.

when winter looms heavy over us, the bears prepare to den. they've eaten well, they've not refused themselves anything, and thus they are ready to sleep: even though they don't hibernate fully, this sleep in their safe and secluded den is a passage nearly like death, a powerful mirror to the nature lulled to sleep by the cold. as they await the sweet coming of spring to awaken, you have the time to understand what that bear within you is - and lull it to sleep as well, so that you might focus on hope and renewal instead.

the bear is your wild force, the more primal part of your heart - it is your bitter survival, pain, it is your impulse, it is your anger, your fierce independence, dominance and hunger and rage. the heart that's fighting, grieving, persevering.

but it is so tired.

whatever the darkness and pain stirred within you - it is time for it to den. to rest. let it sleep and it will awaken in spring, in time for the grand celebrations of sacred equinox, reborn and ready to conquer in confidence. with kindness and patience, during the longest night, let the bear of your heart find its den and sleep.

take a ritual bath or shower: use something bitter and herbal to wash yourself, rinse your head with a solution of vinegar, let your body feel the cold of the water - if you can commit to it in a safe way, do it in the dark. don't dry yourself - let the air dry you as you stand there, bare, ready to embrace the darkness right before you partake in the triumph of the light. sing a lullaby: after you dress, still in the darkness or with a single candle lit, take all your bitterness, all your pain and anger, all your regret and failure and grief - and sing it a lullaby in its bed, and cover it until spring comes. and then, put the candle out. the lullaby is literal: choose one you like, one you feel moved by, perhaps it's one you loved as a child, or perhaps it's one you were afraid of or saddened by too much to like it. use the melody and the words, or add your own words to a melody that moves you. make it yours and meaningful. the bed is less literal: it means a significant, intimate space. it can be your actual bed, or it can be a crossroads, or a graveyard, or any other space that for you can be a symbol of passage, of sleep, of change. maybe the forest, maybe your old playground, maybe a place of memories. choose it wisely. cover it: prepare a piece of cloth that you will use to cover all these difficult feelings with. as you sing a lullaby to this harsh part of your heart, let it symbolically lie in this piece of cloth - then carefully fold it, as many times as you find meaning in. for some it is twice, or thrice, or four times - or as many times as physically possible for the material itself. find a den, and let it rest: hide it somewhere safe, to be recovered and unfolded only in spring, and not a second sooner! if you have an object that in your heart and mind represents this tumultuous period you want to put to rest, put it into the cloth as well. hide it. keep it safe.

in the spring, you will let it awaken: and remember, a bear is a sign of power, immense luck, and perseverance. it is a sign of good fortune - trust in your heart that good fortune awaits you, and with spring will come a full rebirth. a benevolent restart of the cycle that you are, inherently and intimately, an eternal part of.

don't close a chapter by slamming it shut or burning a bridge: put it to bed. lovingly - but stubbornly - command it to sleep.

#winter solstice #devotional #ritual

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candycorncrave · 1 month

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So. Let's talk about Penacony and birds.

-Spoilers for the 2.1 quest (and possibly some of 2.2 if my theories and findings are correct)

Hey all! I'm not too good at starting these essay type things, so we're just gonna dive right in. Disclaimer, these are all just theories complied from random (not very in depth) research I did, and my own thoughts, so take it all with a grain of salt. I just wanted to put this out here for funsies!

With that out of the way, let's dive in!

From very early on into the Penacony quests, there was something that just kept nagging at me. Robin's name, (mixed with the fact that shes a singer.) The family's crest being a Nightingale. Aventurine's design very clearly representing a peacock. Ratio's owls.

There were just too many bird references for this all to be a coincidence, so I decided to do some research on bird symbolism and meaning.

And here are some very interesting things I found!

Now a lot of this is quite clear cut, so I won't go into alot of explanation, but I do find the "rebirth" part quite interesting, especially since it is hinted during the 2.1 quest that she came back from "death".

Let's start with Robin, since she's one of the more obvious ones: "Above all, the robin red-breast is a symbol of spring song and good fortune. Additionally, it also symbolises passion, a new beginning, and re-birth. Therefore, if the bird flies into your life you will be blessed with happiness and joy. Subsequently, most of the symbolism of robins is centred on their spiritual meaning which is believed to be a symbol of divine sacrifice." In native American culture, Robins also have strong ties with family and "heart centered connections."

Next up are Owls: Now this one is also pretty obvious. Dr Ratio's design has very heavy Greek inspiration, and owls in Greek mythology are very clearly tied with Athena, knowledge, and wisdom.

The thing I found interesting about this was all over Sunday's mansion, there are owls decorating a lot of the furniture. Could this have been foreshadowing for his "betrayal" and assisting Sunday? I'm not sure. In my opinion, that seems like quite a length to go to mislead players- especially since it's such a niche detail that most people probably won't think twice about. Maybe it will have more meaning in 2.2. Guess we'll wait and see!

3rd, Another obvious one, Black Swan: They symbolize the opposite of what the white swan does, naturally, so death, danger, destruction, suffering, chaos, mystery, etc.

Even more than that though, "The black swan theory of events is a metaphor that describes an event that comes as a surprise, has a major effect, and is often inappropriately rationalized after the fact with the benefit of hindsight."

Another one I don't feel the need to dig that deep into. It all pretty much checks out with what we've seen of her character and the events of the story so far. Black Swan is a scary lady....

4th, Let's talk about Peacocks: Now we all know peacocks are commonly associated with general wealth, pride, and flamboyance. I thought that was all there really was to it being such a big contributor to Aventurine's design. But I decided to dig a little deeper and. Oh boy.

Peacocks can also symbolize both death, and life. Now at face value this is quite contrasting, but when you apply it to Adventurine's character- it makes quite a lot of sense. A single coin flip between life and death that keeps landing face up, and yet, it's a gamble he never hesitates to make. Moreso, peacocks can symbolize the freedom and liberation of the soul. (OUCH)

And Let's finish off the doozy. Nightingales: The symbol of the family and the bird constantly following Sunday around and watching everything the entire quest without a sound.

"Nightingales are symbolic of beauty, melody, creativity, purity, and the expression of oneself freely. They are also symbolic of darkness, mysticism, spiritual awakening, and renewal."

Now I found that the latter is often meant when you see a nightingale in your dreams. It is also mentioned if they do not speak back to you in a dream you will soon be betrayed.

,,,, How intriguing.

Also intriguing, Bloodhounds are very well known to be hunting dogs, and birds are prey for dogs.

And speaking of prey,,, are fish not considered birds' prey? And Sparkle, who we see fish around every time she shows up, was the "victim" in Black Swan's quest.

Anyways. I could be grasping at straws with that last part, but I do feel there is alot of stuff going on here with animal symbolism, especially more to dig into with Gallagher and Sparkle. It's all very intriguing

If you read all this here's a cookie! 🍪 Thanks for your time :) I hope you enjoyed the ramblings of a madman. Please feel free to add anything or comment your thoughts! I'd love to discuss

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choicesmonthlychallenge · 3 months

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Choices March Challenge 2024

I asked and you answered. It seems like flowers and spring are prompts you are interested in for the March Challenge!

I hope you enjoy the prompts I chose. There is a mix of flowers, spring related words, March holidays, dialogue prompts, and visual floral prompts. I also posted some floral dividers that you're welcome to use.

Have Fun + Happy Creating!

Prompts + Guidelines below the cut!

Flowers (these are some possibilities, but all flowers are accepted)

Bleeding Heart Flower

Carnation

Chrysanthemum

Coneflower

Corpse Flower

Daffodil

Daisy

Gladiolus

Hydrangea

Iris

Jade Vine

Lavender

Lilac

Lily

Marigold

Moonflower

Nightshade

Orchid

Pansy

Peony

Poppy

Rose

Snapdragon

Sunflower

Tulip

Wildflowers

Spring

Awakening

Baby animals

Butterflies

Clear skies

Daylight saving

Fresh air

Growth

New Life

Outdoor activities + sports

Picnics

Rain boots

Rainy days

Renewal

Spring cleaning

Sunny weather

Warm temperatures

Longer days

Umbrella

March Holidays (these are some possibilities, but all March Holidays are accepted)

March 01: National Peanut Butter Lover's Day

March 08: International Women's Day

March 09: National Barbie Day + Get over it Day

March 11: National Napping Day

March 15: The Ides of March

March 16: National Panda Day

March 17: St. Patrick's Day

March 18: Awkward Moments Day

March19: First day of spring

March 23: National Puppy Day

March 30: National Take a Walk in the Park Day + Doctors' Day

March 31: Easter

Dialogue Prompts

"The flowers in the park seem to have a secret language, don't they?"

"Why does every spring bring back memories of that garden?"

"I can't believe you kept that secret from me all these years."

"Why do you always have to be so stubborn?"

"I never thought I'd see you again."

"Do you believe in second chances?"

"I thought we were in this together."

"You're not the person I thought you were."

"Sometimes silence speaks louder than words."

"Is it too late to start over?"

"I don't know who I am anymore."

"We're running out of time."

"Why are you really here?"

"Your laughter is my favorite melody."

"If our love story were a book, every page would be filled with the softest words and the sweetest kisses. What chapter are we on now?"

“Will you please shut up”

“Of all the things i love about you, this is my favorite.”

Visual Prompts:

If one of these inspire a creative work from you feel free to use it. You can list the prompt topic + # (ie: Rainbow 3)

Guidelines + Rules

Submitted works will be featured on a weekly masterlist

Every form of creative work can be submitted: fanfiction, drabbles, moodboards, edits, drawings, poems, songs, sketches, and more—all are welcomed.

Work from any book and story from the Choices (and Pixelberry) universe are welcome (new and old alike)!

You can participate as many times as you want during the month

Clearly list the prompt your used

You can combine submissions for this event and others

Please add a cut to avoid long posts and exposing other fans to triggering/disturbing content.

If your work is NS*W please label it as such and use appropriate warnings. Adult content should be hidden under the page break.

You can get creative with the prompts. It can be a variation of the word and/or concept. It doesn’t have to be exact or literal. If the word inspires a train of thought that led you to something different, put that in the notes and send it in! Have fun with it! Make them work for you! The ultimate goal is just to find joy in creating!

Please tag @choicesmonthlychallenge and if you’d like to add me you can do so as well~ @lovealexhunt (feel free to DM me your work too since Tumblr tags are fickle)

Please do not submit work that has been created with AI. Works that contain AI will not be reblogged. If reblogged inadvertently and I find out they have AI, they will be deleted.

Late entries will be accepted through April 5

#choices #choices game #playchoices #choices stories you play #choices monthly challenge #choices march challenge #choices march challenge 2024 #choices monthly challenge 2024 #march2024

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sincerelyyycece · 16 days

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to hell with other halves!

Approaching the Christmas holiday, Y/N endeavours to let go of her feelings for James Potter.

note: inspired by "chilly" by NIKI, mention of drinking, reader missing James Potter, December time setting

tags: @dearmy-diary @moonteaxw @xcinnamonmalfoyx @box-of-kinderjoy @hisparentsgallerryy @burningwitchprincess @alittlebirdswhisper @chi-ara (i can't tag the last two accounts.)

In the icy grip of December, amidst the vibrant pulse of the city, Y/N finds herself ensnared in a tempest of emotions, navigating the labyrinth of memories left behind by James Potter, her once cherished flame. Despite the jovial festivities adorning the streets, her heart remains ensconced in the frosty embrace of their shared past, unwilling to thaw from the warmth of their intimate moments.

The haunting melody of their memories reverberates within Y/N's mind, a symphony of joy and sorrow that she struggles to reconcile with the stark reality of their separation. Each flicker of the twinkling lights serves as a poignant reminder of the void James left behind, casting shadows over the mirthful ambience of the season.

With each hesitant step, Y/N confronts the spectres of their past, the echoes of laughter silenced by the deafening void of their parting. She finds herself torn between the yearning to cling to the remnants of what once was and the imperative to break free from the shackles of their fractured promises.

"To hell with other halves!" she murmurs to the wintry gusts, glass in hand, a rebellious proclamation against the notion that solace must be sought in the arms of another. Y/N understands that true healing resides not in external affections but in the depths of her own self-discovery.

In her journey to move on, she embarks on ventures into uncharted territories, seeking solace in novel experiences and distant horizons. Yet, amidst the allure of novelty, she finds herself adrift, her passion seemingly misplaced along the winding path of her journey.

As time unfurls its relentless march, Y/N begins to rekindle the flames of her enthusiasm, reclaiming her zest for life with a newfound fervour. She embraces the exhilaration of new friendships and the thrill of exploration, shedding the remnants of her past with each stride towards liberation.

In the culmination of her odyssey, Y/N emerges, resplendent and renewed, casting aside the shadows of her past to bask in the radiant glow of her newfound happiness. She has traversed the tumultuous terrain of heartache and emerged victorious, no longer defined by the ghosts of her history but empowered by the boundless possibilities of her future.

Through late-night conversations in cosy cafes and impromptu escapades beneath the starlit sky, Y/N finds solace in the shared experiences of kindred souls. Their laughter becomes a melody of healing, drowning out the echoes of her former pain with the harmonious notes of camaraderie and understanding.

With newfound companions by her side, Y/N delves deeper into the tapestry of her own desires, discovering hidden passions long dormant beneath the weight of her previous attachments. She immerses herself in art, music, and literature, embracing the creative spark within her with unabashed fervour.

Yet, amidst the euphoria of her newfound liberation, Y/N is confronted with moments of doubt and uncertainty. The spectre of James lingers in the recesses of her mind, a constant reminder of the love she once knew and the scars it left behind. But with each passing day, she learns to confront these ghosts with courage and resilience, refusing to be held captive by the shadows of her past.

As the frosty grip of December begins to thaw into the promise of spring, Y/N emerges from her cocoon of introspection, her spirit ablaze with the vibrant hues of possibility. She embraces the world with open arms, savouring each moment as a precious gift to be cherished and savoured.

In the end, Y/N's journey is not just one of self-discovery, but of profound transformation. She emerges from the crucible of her past not as a broken soul, but as a beacon of resilience and hope, illuminating the path for others who may find themselves lost in the darkness of their own hearts.

As the city lights twinkle in the distance, casting their warm glow upon the streets below, Y/N walks forward into the embrace of the unknown, her heart filled with the promise of endless possibilities and the unwavering certainty that she is, at last, free.

#james potter #james potter fic #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter angst

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blackswaneuroparedux · 1 year

Video

There is no beauty in Music itself, the beauty is within the listener.

- Igor Stravinsky

“The idea of The Rite of Spring came to me while I was still composing Firebird,” Igor Stravinsky recalled, 45 years after the ballet’s first performance in 1913, in his book Conversations. “I had dreamed of a scene of pagan ritual in which a chosen sacrificial virgin danced herself to death.” If Stravinsky is to be believed, this dream marked the beginning of a process that culminated in the premiere of one of the 20th century’s most important musical works.

Stravinsky’s music was meant to capture the spirit of the scenario, which he had outlined with the help of painter and ethnographer Nikolai Roerich and dancer and choreographer Mikhail Fokine during the spring and summer of 1910. Roerich had filled Stravinsky’s head with tales about all sorts of rituals from ancient Russia – divinations, sacrifices, dances, and so on – involving a variety of characters. The ballet that resulted revolves around the return of spring and the renewal of the earth through the sacrifice of a virgin. In his handwritten version of the story, Stravinsky described The Rite as “a musical choreographic work. It represents pagan Russia and is unified by a single idea: the mystery and the great surge of the creative power of spring….”

Stravinsky completed the score on 29 March 1913, and exactly two months later, the ballet premiered in Paris at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées, where it caused the famous scandal that ushered in modern music. Nijinsky’s choreography and the wild, unchecked power of Stravinsky’s score were something wholly new. Stravinsky wrote for one of his largest orchestras ever in The Rite of Spring, and he used it with an assurance and confidence one would hardly expect from a composer just out of his twenties and with only two big successes - The Firebird and Petrushka - behind him.

But those two scores, for all of their individuality and accomplishment, did not seem like they were leading to The Rite of Spring. What Stravinsky did was totally unexpected.

The stage action during the ballet’s second half, leading up to the sacrifice, was enough to capture the attention of even that raucous audience at the first performance. Finally quiet, they could hear Stravinsky’s score and watch as Maria Piltz, the dancer who played the sacrificial victim, stood motionless as the ritual unfolded around her, gradually coming to life to perform her dance, with its angular contortions and tortured motions.

What actually happened on that scandalous night will always be a mystery to some degree, because the reports contradict each other. Was it the choreography that annoyed people, or the music? Were the police really called? Was it true that missiles were thrown, and challenges to a duel offered? Were the creators booed at the end, or cheered?

The dancer Dame Marie Rambert remembered that right at the beginning ‘a shout went up in the gallery: “Un docteur!" (Call a doctor!). Somebody else shouted louder, “Un dentiste!" (a dentist!)’. The aristocrat Harry Kessler said that people started to whisper and joke almost immediately. Stravinsky himself was so angry that he stormed out and went backstage to help the dancers keep time.

What is certain is that the audience was shocked - and with good reason. Stravinsky’s score for The Rite of Spring contradicted every rule about what music should be. The sounds are often deliberately harsh, right from opening Lithuanian folk melody, which is played by the bassoon in its highest, most uncomfortable range. The music was cacophonously loud, assaulting the ears with thunderous percussion and shrieking brass. Rhythmically it was complex in a completely unprecedented way. In the ‘Ritual of the Rival Tribes’ the music unfolds in two speeds at once, in a ratio of 3:2. And it makes lavish use of dissonance, i.e. combinations of notes which don’t make normal harmonic sense. ‘The music always goes to the note next to the one you expect,’ wrote one exasperated critic.

Then there was the dance, choreographed by Nijinsky. According to some observers this was what really caused the scandal at the first night. When the curtain rose the audience saw a row of ‘knock-kneed and long-braided Lolitas jumping up and down’ as Stravinsky called them, who seemed to jerk rather than dance. Classical dance aspired upwards, in defiance of gravity, whereas Nijinsky’s dancers seemed pulled down to the earth. Their strange, stamping movements and awkward poses defied every canon of gracefulness.

Both the music and the dance of The Rite of Spring seemed to deny the possibility of human feelings, which for most people is what gives art its meaning. As Stravinsky put it, ‘there are simply no regions for soul-searching in The Rite of Spring’. This is what separates it so decisively from Stravinsky’s hit of 1911, Petrushka. There we’re immersed in a human world, which exudes the very specific cultural ambience of Russia. It’s true that the main characters are puppets, rather than rounded human beings. But they have characters, even if they’re somewhat rudimentary, and at the end there’s even a suggestion that Petrushka might have a soul.

* Pina Bausch's interpretation of Stravinksy's Rite. A masterpiece of modern dance.

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pradnyesh1008 · 3 months

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Female RO's:

1. Crown Princess Seraphina Sylvanheart

She is a figure of grace and beauty. Her eyes, as clear and bright as a forest spring, hold a depth of wisdom and kindness. Her hair, the color of autumn leaves, cascades down her shoulders in a waterfall of curls. Her skin, as fair as the first snowfall on a sylvan landscape, glows with a natural radiance.

Seraphina carries herself with an elegance that speaks of her royal upbringing. Yet, there’s a gentleness in her demeanor that endears her to her people. She is known for her compassionate heart and her love for all living creatures. Her laughter, light and melodious, is like a songbird’s call echoing through the forest.

Her attire reflects her love for nature - gowns in shades of green and brown, adorned with intricate patterns inspired by the forest flora. A crown of woven vines and flowers rests lightly on her head, symbolizing her connection to the natural world.

Despite her royal duties, Seraphina often escapes to the tranquility of the forest. She finds solace among the trees, often returning with a renewed spirit and fresh ideas to better her kingdom.

In essence, Crown Princess Seraphina Sylvanheart is not just a leader but also the heart of the sylvan kingdom - kind, wise, and as beautiful as the nature she so loves.

2. Princess Bruni Verdantcliff

The youngest of the Verdantcliff siblings, is a delightful blend of shyness and mischief. Her eyes, as green as the cliffs of her homeland, sparkle with a playful spirit that's hidden beneath a veil of shyness.

Her hair, as dark as the mountain soil, falls in soft waves to her shoulders, often adorned with flowers she picks during her playful escapades. Her eyes, a vibrant green, are full of life and laughter, reflecting her playful spirit.

Her face holds an innocence that adds to her charm. A rosy blush often adorns her cheeks, more noticeable when she’s up to her mischiefs. Her attire is usually simple yet elegant, often incorporating elements of her mountain kingdom - a dress the color of lush moss, a cloak as white as mountain snow, and a circlet made of wildflowers.

At first glance, Bruni may seem reserved, her soft-spoken nature and gentle demeanor often mistaken for timidity. But once she opens up, her true nature shines through. She is a whirlwind of energy and mischief, her laughter echoing through the castle halls like a merry tune.

Bruni loves to play pranks on her siblings, her clever mind always coming up with new tricks. Yet, she always manages to maintain her innocence with her angelic smile and twinkling eyes.

3. Princess Sakura Stormcrown

She is a burst of energy and positivity. Her eyes, as bright and clear as a summer sky, radiate an infectious enthusiasm. Her hair, the color of cherry blossoms, is usually tied in a high ponytail, bouncing with her every move. Her skin, as smooth as porcelain, adds to her youthful charm.

Sakura carries herself with an energy that’s hard to ignore. She’s always on the move, her spirit as untamed as the wind. Her laughter is loud and hearty, filling the room with a warmth that’s hard to resist.

Despite her energetic nature, Sakura is known for her naivety. She trusts easily, often seeing the good in people before anything else. This trait, while endearing, also makes her vulnerable. Yet, she never lets the harsh realities of the world dampen her positive spirit.

Her attire is usually vibrant and colorful, reflecting her lively personality. She prefers comfort over style, choosing clothes that allow her the freedom to move and express herself.

In essence, Princess Sakura Stormcrown is like a ray of sunshine on a stormy day - bright, energetic, and full of life.

4. Crown Princess Leila Dawnstrider (Special RO)

She is a beacon of resilience and grace. Her eyes, as deep and mysterious as the desert nights, hold a strength that is both captivating and inspiring. Her hair, the color of sun-bleached sand, flows like a desert breeze. Her skin, kissed by the relentless desert sun, glows with a golden hue.

Leila carries herself with the grace of a desert rose and the strength of a sandstorm. She is known for her resilience, having weathered many storms both literal and figurative. Her voice, soft yet firm, carries the wisdom of the desert.

Despite her royal duties, Leila is known for her love for her kingdom's vast landscapes. She often spends time traversing the dunes on her trusted steed, exploring ancient ruins, and learning about her kingdom's rich history.

Her attire reflects her environment - gowns made from fine silks in shades of gold and brown, adorned with intricate beadwork that sparkles like the night sky. A crown of golden suns rests lightly on her head, symbolizing her connection to the desert.

In essence, Crown Princess Leila Dawnstrider embodies the spirit of the Desert Kingdom - resilient, beautiful, and as timeless as the desert itself.

#RO's #ro's #Female RO's #TGT Female RO's #TGT Ro's

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moonhedgegarden · 2 months

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🌱🍃Spring🌿

As the earth stirs from its wintry slumber, my soul awakens to the promise of your gentle touch. Oh, how I have longed for the moment when your warmth would grace our world once more.

With each passing day now, I feel your presence drawing nearer, like a beloved melody on the breeze. The air is infused with anticipation, as if every living thing eagerly awaits your embrace.

I find comfort and renewal. Your blossoms open like love letters from nature itself, each petal proof of the beauty of new beginnings.

How I adore you! Your arrival carries in not just the changing of seasons, but a celebration of life in all its vibrant glory. It is a time of growth, of rebirth, of endless possibility.

So here I stand, on the threshold of your arrival, with open arms and a heart overflowing with gratitude. For in you, dear Spring, I find inspiration, I find joy, I easily find the very essence of life itself.

I am grateful.

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dndfantasygirl · 8 days

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Fighting for Freedom (Chapter 18: The Fight for Freedom)

Rating: Mature Word count: 4.6k Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo, descriptions of PTSD, mentions of sexual harassment/attempted sexual coercion (regarding Haarlep), mentions of past sexual assault

Summary: Delphie, Astarion, Shadowheart, and Karlach rescue Hope and confront Raphael.

*Link to AO3 Post

*Link to Previous Chapter

Carefully, Astarion seeks to slip the artifacts out from under the Archivist's nose, his fingers deftly working to avoid detection. Each movement is calculated, every breath measured as he reaches for the treasures that lay within the room.

The discovery made by Karlach in the boudoir had set a chain of events in motion. Despite the trap laid within the painting, its true significance was hidden within the depths of a secret safe concealed within the wall. With skillful precision, traps were disarmed, and locks were picked, revealing the hidden compartment's contents.

Within the safe, amidst the musty scent of ancient secrets, lay the key to unlocking the Hammer: a phrase that would deactivate the shield surrounding it.

But before they departed, Astarion couldn't resist one last inquiry. With a flick of his fingers and a whispered incantation, he communed with the spirit of Haarlep's departed body, seeking the truth about Raphael's prowess in the bedroom.

The revelation was unexpected and utterly amusing, so Astarion filed it away for future reference, a tidbit of gossip to be savored at a more opportune moment.

As Astarion deftly snatches the Gauntlets of Hill Giant Strength and the Periapt of Health, his heart pounds with the exhilaration of the heist. Delphie's enchanting melody, drifting through the air like a siren's call, threatens to distract even his well-honed senses. For a moment, he feels himself swaying to the rhythm, the music weaving a spell that almost ensnares his mind.

But Astarion is not one to succumb easily to such allurements. With a shake of his head, he banishes the enchanting melody that threatens to cloud his judgment. With renewed determination, he focuses on his mission, the weight of the gauntlets in his grasp a tangible reminder of his newfound strength.

Slipping the gauntlets onto his hands, he feels a surge of power coursing through his veins, as if he has become a force of nature incarnate. With each flex of his fingers, he revels in the sensation of newfound might, his muscles thrumming with potential.

As he approaches the Hammer, the Periapt of Health still clutched tightly in his hand, Astarion's irritation mounts at the stupidity of the phrase required to deactivate the shield around it. "Give me my heart's desire," he mutters under his breath, the words dripping with sarcasm and irritation.

To his astonishment, the shield dissolves with almost mocking promptness, vanishing into the ether as if it had never been. With a smirk of triumph, Astarion reaches out for the Hammer, his fingers curling around its hilt with a sense of anticipation.

Yet, as soon as his hand makes contact with the artifact, a sudden, ominous silence descends upon the room, shattering the tranquility that had pervaded moments before. A silent alarm, triggered by his touch, reverberates through the air, its warning echoing with palpable tension.

The abrupt cessation of Delphie's enchanting melody further heightens the sense of foreboding, the once vibrant atmosphere now tinged with an icy chill. In an instant, the disguises bestowed upon them by Hope's magic unravels, leaving them exposed in their regular armor, their true identities laying bare for all to see.

"You just rang Raphael's dinner bell," the Archivist warns, "and you're the entire meal."

As the tiefling's ominous warning hangs in the air, tension crackling like electricity, Delphie's quick reflexes springs into action. With a fluid motion, she unleashes a spell, a gesture of defiance that sends the Archivist hurtling backward with surprising force. The sound of his impact against the bookshelf reverberates through the chamber, a satisfying echo of the chaos unfolding.

Astarion rushes to join his companions, urgency etched into his features as he extends the periapt towards Delphie. "Hurry, darling. Put this on," he urges, his gaze fixed on her with a mixture of determination and protectiveness.

Without hesitation, Delphie complies, slipping the periapt around her neck with a swift motion. As its magic infuses her being, she feels a surge of energy coursing through her veins, invigorating her with newfound vitality. Her heart quickens its pace, the rush of adrenaline heightening her senses as she prepares to face the impending threat.

For a fleeting moment, amidst the chaos and danger that surrounds them, Delphie finds herself momentarily distracted by Astarion's presence. His features seem to take on a tantalizing allure, his lips appearing almost irresistibly tempting. With a shake of her head, she forcibly pushes aside the distracting thoughts, refocusing her attention on the imminent danger that looms before them.

Delphie emerges from the archive room, her senses still tingling with the residual magic that lingers within. Yet, as she steps into the hallway, a sudden sensation of searing heat washes over her, causing her skin to prickle with discomfort. Whirling around, her eyes widen in alarm as she beholds a looming ball of hellfire hurtling towards her with malevolent intent.

Instinctively, Delphie raises her hands, her scales shimmering with an otherworldly glow as she taps into the depths of her draconic heritage. "Fogatorkah di gul," she intones, her breath forming a frosty mist as she unleashes a torrent of icy wind from her outstretched palms. The frigid blast collides with the infernal flames, a clash of elements that sparked and sizzled with raw energy.

In a breathtaking display of magic, the hellfire is quenched, frozen in its tracks by the sheer force of Delphie's will.

"Hurry!" Delphie's voice rings out, urgent and commanding, as she waits for her companions to emerge from the archive room. With each passing moment, the ice that once restrained the ball of hellfire begins to melt away, its fiery tendrils inching ever closer.

As they draw nearer to Hope's prison, the intensity of the onslaught from Raphael's servants escalates. Yet, it's not just their physical assaults that pose a threat. With a sinister twist of fate, the servants detonate upon reaching the party, their bodies morphing into grotesque fiendish creatures that hunger for blood.

Caught in the midst of this chaotic onslaught, the party fights fiercely, their weapons clashing against the twisted forms of their assailants. Spells flare and blades sing as they battle against the relentless tide of enemies, each moment a desperate struggle for survival.

Despite the odds stacked against them, they press on with unwavering determination, driven by their shared resolve to free Hope from her captivity. Inch by inch, they advance through the labyrinthine passages, their progress marked by the cacophony of battle that echoes through the corridors.

Finally, they reach the ladder leading down to Hope's prison. With a final burst of effort, they rally together, steeling themselves for the trials that await below.

-------------------------------

The air crackles with arcane energy as the party descends into the depths of Hope's prison, their hearts heavy with anticipation and resolve. Yet, as they breach the threshold, they are met with a scene of utter chaos. Two imposing spectators, their many eyes gleaming with malice, loom over Hope's prison, flanked by a horde of cackling imps that swarm like vultures around their prey.

With a grim determination, the party springs into action, their weapons flashing in the dim light as they engage their adversaries in a fierce battle. Spells erupt in dazzling displays of magic, while swords clash against the hideous forms of the imps, their shrieks filling the air with discordant cacophony.

The spectators, formidable foes that they are, unleash blasts of magical energy with lethal precision, forcing the party to duck and weave, their every move a dance of survival against overwhelming odds. Yet, despite the ferocity of their enemies, the party fights on with unyielding resolve, their determination fueled by the knowledge that Hope's freedom hangs in the balance.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of struggle, the tide of battle begins to turn in their favor. With a final, decisive blow, the last of their adversaries falls, vanquished by the combined might of the party. As the echoes of battle fade into silence, they stand victorious amidst the wreckage, their chests heaving with exhaustion yet filled with the triumphant glow of success.

With Hope now free from her prison, she wastes no time in calling upon divine intervention, her words a prayer that rings out with clarity and conviction. In an instant, a soothing aura washes over the weary party, their wounds healing and their spirits renewed by the divine grace that surrounds them.

Hope and the party sprint down the narrow corridors, their footsteps echoing off the walls as they push forward with all their might. With each step, they fend off waves of Raphael's relentless servants, their weapons flashing in the dim light as they cleave through the horde.

Delphie's heart pounds in her chest as they race towards their goal, her senses heightened by the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Yet, despite the ever-present threat of danger, a sense of relief washes over her as they draw closer to the portal that will lead them to safety.

A smile of triumph tugs at Delphie's lips as she catches sight of the shimmering portal ahead, its ethereal glow a beacon of hope amidst the chaos that surrounds them. With renewed determination, she quickens her pace, her gaze fixed on the shimmering threshold that promises escape from their ordeal.

As Delphie's foot makes contact with the threshold of the portal, a surge of elation courses through her. Yet, in the blink of an eye, her moment of triumph is shattered as the portal vanishes into thin air, leaving them vulnerable and exposed.

Before they can react, a sinister presence materializes before them, the imposing figures of Raphael and Yurgir emerging from the shadows with malevolent intent.

"You," Raphael's voice drips with disdain as he directs his words at Delphie, his contempt palpable in every syllable.

Delphie meets his gaze with equal measure, her eyes ablaze with a fiery intensity that mirrors his own animosity. With a defiant tilt of her chin, she tightens her grip on the hilt of her dagger.

"There are many things in your world that I loathe," Raphael continues, his tone dripping with venom as he speaks. "Litters of kittens, chattering children - the noise and the chaos of it all." Delphie's death glare intensifies with each word, her lips curling into a silent snarl as she listens to the devil's disdainful diatribe. "In my world - in my HOUSE - there is order and there is decorum. You came here uninvited and you stole from me."

A satisfied smirk dances across Delphie's lips, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and defiance as she meets Raphael's gaze head-on. "We did, didn't we?" she retorts, her voice laced with a hint of mockery. "Though I must say, Raphael, you give me too much credit. It was mostly Astarion who did the stealing."

Astarion, ever the rogue, lets out a high-pitched laugh at Delphie's remark, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he revels in the chaos he has wrought. "Guilty as charged," he chimes in, his tone light and carefree despite the gravity of their situation.

"You brought the chaos of your world into mine. I will not abide by it," the devil declares, his tone as cold and unforgiving as steel.

Delphie's lips curl into a dark chuckle, her amusement tinged with a hint of defiance. "Please, Raphael," she retorts, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your little minions couldn't even stop us. If that isn't the definition of chaos, I don't know what your idea of order is. Face it. It's over. You can't stop us."

Hope's voice rings out, a note of uncertainty laced with determination. "I AM NOT ENTIRELY SURE HE WON'T," she interjects, her words a sobering reminder of the peril they face.

Raphael's gaze turns to Hope, his expression one of disdain as he dismisses her with a contemptuous wave of his hand. "Oh, Hope," he sneers, his voice dripping with malice. "You're such a piteous thing. All it takes is a crumb from the table, and you forget the centuries of starvation. This insolence has earned you centuries more."

Delphie's knuckles whiten as she tightens her grip on the hilt of her dagger, her resolve hardening with each passing moment. "Don't you dare lay a hand on her!" she warns, her voice trembling with suppressed fury.

But Raphael pays her threat no heed, his attention already turned elsewhere as he continues his tirade. "You would've been heroes if you'd only dealt fairly with me," he taunts, his words a bitter echo of regret. "Instead, you're not so different to doomed Karsus, overreaching your limits, and burning your world to ash."

As Hope, Delphie, and Raphael engage in their tense exchange, Astarion, ever the provocateur, seizes the opportunity to interject with a mischievous grin playing upon his lips. With a sly smile, he recounts the unexpected tidbit he had gleaned from Haarlep's corpse, his ears perking up in anticipation of the reaction it would elicit.

Amidst the banter and tension, Delphie, in her own unique way, manages to work her peculiar brand of charm on Yurgir, persuading the reluctant servant to join their cause. Astarion can't help but admire her unconventional approach, a testament to her resourcefulness and unwavering determination.

As Raphael's taunts reach a crescendo, he delivers a final, contemptuous barb, his words laden with malice and disdain. "If you have any last words, make it quick. It will only take a moment to finish you."

Unfazed by the devil's threats, Astarion counters with a snort of derision. "Well, that's twice the time Haarlep claims it takes to finish you," he retorts, unable to resist the opportunity to needle his adversary with a well-timed jest.

The reaction is immediate. Raphael's features contort with rage, his teeth bared in a snarl of fury as he struggles to contain his anger. "You contemptuous creature!" he seethes, his voice a low growl as he glares at Astarion with undisguised hatred.

As the confrontation erupts into chaos, Raphael, true to his theatrical nature, begins to weave a sinister melody, his voice echoing through the chamber in a haunting villain song. The air thrums with dark energy as the cambions close in around the party, their malevolent presence adding to the sense of impending doom.

Amidst the turmoil, Delphie's keen observation skills come to the forefront, her eyes scanning the chamber with a sharp focus. Dodging a swing from a cambion's sword with practiced agility, she quickly identifies the source of Raphael's newfound power.

"He's drawing power from the pillars!" she shouts, her voice cutting through the din of battle like a clarion call. The revelation sparks a glimmer of mischief in Karlach's eyes, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she embraces the opportunity for action.

With a primal roar, Karlach channels her rage into a burst of speed, hurtling towards the nearest pillar with reckless abandon. Meanwhile, Astarion springs into action, deftly igniting smokepowder bombs and hurling them with precision towards the pillar nearest to him. Ignoring the cascading debris, he focuses solely on disrupting Raphael's source of power.

Shadowheart, her focus unwavering amidst the chaos, channels her magic with practiced skill. With a whispered incantation, she conjures a spectral door that materializes before her, opening a path to the pillar farthest from her. Without hesitation, she dashes through the portal, her movements swift and graceful as she readies her guiding bolts to unleash upon the source of Raphael's strength.

Yet, amidst their coordinated efforts, the cambions press their advantage, their relentless assault testing the party's resolve with each passing moment. Shadowheart flinches as a cambion catches her off guard, their sword slashing dangerously close as she focuses her aim on the distant pillar.

With agility and grace, Delphie slides beneath Raphael's towering form, her movements fluid and precise as she navigates the chaos of the battlefield. As she emerges on the other side, her gaze locks onto the last remaining pillar, her resolve hardening with determination.

With a fierce intensity burning in her eyes, Delphie points a finger towards the pillar, her voice ringing out with arcane power. "Sharleg ekess bilaes," she incants, her words infused with ancient magic as she taps into the depths of her draconic heritage.

As she channels her energy, Delphie's scales begin to glow with an ethereal light, casting a radiant aura around her. With a focused concentration, she unleashes a thin green ray from the tip of her finger, the magic crackling with raw power as it streaks towards its target.

The ray strikes the pillar with unerring accuracy, its force hitting with the impact of a thunderbolt. In an instant, the pillar begins to tremble and groan, cracks spiderwebbing across its surface as it succumbs to the onslaught of Delphie's magic.

With a deafening roar, the pillar collapses into a cloud of dust, its once imposing form reduced to nothingness in the blink of an eye.

As the chaos of battle swirls around him, Astarion's focus remains unwavering on Delphie. She is his anchor in the tumultuous storm, a beacon of light amidst the darkness that threatens to engulf them all. With every fiber of his being, he is determined not to lose her, to ensure her safety at all costs.

Yet, amidst the frenetic dance of combat, Astarion momentarily loses sight of Delphie, his heart seizing with a sudden pang of fear. With reflexes honed by years of survival instincts, he whispers an incantation taught to him by the wood elf, the words flowing from his lips with practiced ease. In an instant, he dissolves into mist, his form evaporating into the ether as he traverses the battlefield with ghostly swiftness.

Reappearing next to one of the crumbled pillars, Astarion crouches low, seeking cover from the onslaught of enemies that surround them. His keen eyes scan the chaos, searching desperately for any sign of Delphie amidst the fray.

Finally, his gaze alights upon her, a surge of relief flooding through him as he sees her moving with a predatory grace towards Raphael, her movements fluid and purposeful. With a sense of pride and admiration, Astarion watches as she unleashes her magic, stunning their adversary with a display of raw power.

But his elation is short-lived as he notices the danger looming behind her, a cambion bearing down upon her with lethal intent.

In the heat of battle, Astarion's instincts take over as he draws his bow with practiced ease, his movements fluid and precise. With a steady hand and unwavering focus, he releases the arrow, the projectile hurtling through the air with deadly accuracy.

The arrow finds its mark with chilling precision, piercing through the cambion's skull with a sickening crunch. With a final, agonized cry, the fiend crumples to the ground in a grotesque heap, her lifeblood pooling beneath her motionless form.

The sound of her body hitting the ground echoes through the chamber, drawing Delphie's attention in an instant. With a swift turn, she meets Astarion's concerned gaze, her eyes locking with his in a silent exchange of understanding and reassurance. With a subtle nod of acknowledgment, she dashes forward, her resolve unyielding as she sets her sights on Raphael once more.

Closing the distance with predatory grace, Delphie moves with a deadly purpose, twin daggers gleaming in her hands as she closes in on her prey. With a primal roar, she lunges forward, driving the blades deep into Raphael's neck with ruthless precision.

Astonished by the swift and brutal efficiency of her attack, Astarion can only watch in silent awe as Raphael staggers backward, his lifeblood gushing from the mortal wounds inflicted by Delphie's hand. With a strangled gasp, the devil falls to the ground, his once-powerful form now reduced to a mere shell of its former self.

As the macabre scene unfolds before him, Astarion feels a chill run down his spine, a nagging sense of unease gnawing at the edges of his consciousness. It's as if a shadow of darkness lingers around Delphie, a lingering reminder of the dark forces that once sought to consume her.

In that moment, Astarion can't help but wonder if perhaps there is still a part of Bhaal lingering within her, its influence casting a sinister shadow over her actions.

As the dust settles and the echoes of battle fade into the background, Astarion finds himself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions. The lingering concern about Delphie's unsettling display of violence is tempered by the reassuring knowledge that she has never directed such predatory instincts towards him or their companions since her resurrection.

With a sigh of relief, Astarion acknowledges that perhaps it is merely an instinctual remnant from her years of survival in the wilderness, a vestige of her primal nature that she has learned to tame in the company of her newfound family. Whatever the case may be, one thing remains certain: in her presence, he feels safe, and he knows that she is safe too.

With the devil defeated, the Hammer reclaimed, and Hope freed from her captivity, a sense of triumph washes over the party, their shared victory a testament to their strength and resilience in the face of adversity. With their mission accomplished, they can finally return to Baldur's Gate.

-------------------------------

Perched on the edge of the cliff overlooking the tranquil expanse of Dragon Cove, Delphie finds solace in the quiet beauty of the night. With her knee drawn up to her chest, she sits in contemplative silence, her gaze fixed upon the moon as it casts its gentle glow upon the land below. The rhythmic chirping of crickets fills the air, a soothing melody that lulls her into a state of peace and tranquility.

Yet, despite the serenity of her surroundings, Delphie finds her thoughts drifting back to the disturbing images of Haarlep that linger in her mind like unwelcome specters. With a shudder, she pushes them aside, focusing instead on the gentle rhythm of her breathing as she seeks to quiet the turmoil within her soul.

Lost in her thoughts, Delphie's ears twitch at the soft sound of footsteps approaching from behind.

"You know, I've grown rather fond of these gauntlets. We could just never return to the Devil's Fee."

Astarion's voice breaks the peaceful silence of the night, his words carrying a playful tone as he approaches Delphie from behind. With a smirk dancing upon his lips, he pauses beside her, his gaze lingering appreciatively on the gleaming gauntlets adorning his hands.

Delphie turns to face him, a small smile gracing her features as she meets his playful gaze. She watches with amusement as he admires the gauntlets, his antics eliciting a soft giggle from her lips.

"What do you think, my sweet? Do they make me appear more formidable?" Astarion strikes a dramatic pose, flexing his arm with exaggerated flair. Delphie can't help but roll her eyes playfully at his theatrics, her smile widening at his antics.

"Sure, if it'll make you sleep better at night," she teases affectionately.

Taking a seat beside her, Astarion feigns offense, his hand coming to rest dramatically over his unbeating heart. "Oh, how you wound me at times, darling."

Delphie's laughter fades into a soft sigh as she leans into Astarion's comforting embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his presence. His arm wraps protectively around her, a silent gesture of support and understanding as he presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, his touch a soothing caress against her skin.

As his fingers trace tender circles along her arm, Astarion's voice breaks the silence, his concern evident in the softness of his tone. "Are you alright?"

For a moment, Delphie hesitates, the weight of her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She takes a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggles to find the words to convey her inner turmoil. "I-I think so," she replies, her voice trembling with vulnerability. "It all just reminded me of Galure and what he...did to me."

Tears well up in her eyes, their shimmering trails tracing silent paths down her cheeks as she speaks. The memories of her past trauma linger like a shadow, their presence a constant reminder of the pain and suffering she has endured.

Feeling the weight of Delphie's sorrow pressing against him, Astarion holds her even tighter, his arms a sturdy anchor in the storm of her emotions. With each trembling breath she takes, he can feel her pain radiating through her, a tangible reminder of the scars that still linger from her past.

As he gazes down at her tear-stained face, Astarion's expression softens, a mixture of concern and frustration clouding his features. "Why didn't you listen to me?"

Delphie's silence speaks volumes, her eyes darting away from his gaze as she struggles to find the words to explain herself. A sense of guilt gnaws at her conscience, the weight of her actions heavy upon her shoulders.

"I told you it wasn't safe," Astarion continues, his tone gentle yet firm as he presses her to confront the choices she made.

In response, Delphie's voice is barely above a whisper, her words laden with remorse. "I only undressed for him, Astarion. He didn't even lay a hand on me."

A flicker of anger flashes across Astarion's features at the mention of Haarlep's actions, his jaw tensing with barely contained fury.

"You shouldn't have felt compelled to resort to such measures," Astarion insists, his voice softening with empathy. "I told you we would find another way. Why didn't you trust me?"

Delphie's shoulders tremble with suppressed emotion, a small whimper escaping her lips as she struggles to contain her tears. "It wasn't that I didn't trust you, Astarion. I was just afraid...we had to get the Hammer," she confesses, meeting his gaze with teary eyes. "It's the only way we'll defeat the Absolute."

"I know, darling, but as you once told me, we will always find a way. Together." Astarion's voice carries a quiet reassurance, his words a balm to Delphie's troubled soul as he gently takes her hand in his own. With a tender gesture, he brings her fingers to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against them before intertwining their hands together, his touch a comforting anchor in the storm of her emotions.

"Promise me," he implores, his gaze searching hers with earnest sincerity, "that the next time we find ourselves in such dire straits, you'll at least consider indulging me?"

Delphie meets his gaze with a silent determination, her heart swelling with gratitude for the unwavering support he offers her. With a nod of her head, she cups his face in her hands, her touch gentle yet firm as she brushes her lips against his in the softest of kisses.

Their moment of tenderness is interrupted by a series of chirps, drawing their attention to Esme landing beside Delphie. The small pseudodragon curls up against her, seeking comfort in her presence as Delphie tenderly pets her scales.

With a contented hum, the wood elf leans her head against Astarion's shoulder once more, finding solace in the coolness of his embrace. Tomorrow, they will face their toughest adversary yet, the daunting prospect of battle looming on the horizon. But for now, in the quiet embrace of the night, they find peace in each other's arms, their love a beacon of hope in the darkness that surrounds them.

#astarion x tav #astarion #astarion and tav #astarion angst #astarion fanfic #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #bg3 #astarion x oc #named tav #astarion x tav fluff

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dee-writes-smut · 13 days

Text

PREVERNAL (Extra)

FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader

SUMMARY it's been two years, you want sex with your mate, but it seems Azriel is hesitant. Good thing bestie LuLu is here to help ;)

CONTENT WARNINGS sex! (there will be a note before if you wish to skip), MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap, y'all), Lucien being a nosy horndog (?)

AUTHORS NOTE c'mon, you didn't think I was just going to leave you without a smut scene! What do you make me for, a monster?!

As the world awakens from its winter slumber, a symphony of sensations fills the prevernal air, weaving a tapestry of seduction that tantalizes the senses and stirs the soul. The earth, still moist from the thawing frost, exhales a heady fragrance of rebirth, a delicate mingling of damp soil and budding life that beckons with whispered promises of renewal. Each step upon the awakening land is a dance with temptation, as the soft, yielding earth caresses the feet with a sensuous touch that ignites a primal longing deep within.

Above, the sun emerges from its hibernation, casting its golden rays upon the landscape like a lover's embrace. Its warmth, once forgotten, now envelopes the skin in a tender caress, coaxing the slumbering earth to awaken from its wintry dreams. And awaken it does, with a flourish of color and life that ignites the senses with an intoxicating fervor. Delicate blossoms unfurl their petals in a symphony of hues, their fragrant perfumes mingling with the crispness of the air in a sensual ballet of scent.

Everywhere, the world pulses with the rhythm of desire, from the gentle rustle of awakening leaves to the melodious trill of amorous birdsong. Each breeze carries with it a whisper of passion, stirring dormant desires and kindling flames of longing that smolder just beneath the surface. In the prelude to spring, every sensation is heightened, every moment pregnant with possibility, as the allure of new beginnings hangs heavy in the air like a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

In this season of rebirth, nature herself becomes the ultimate seductress, her beauty a bewitching spell that enraptures all who dare to surrender to her charms. And so, beneath the canopy of prevernal skies, amidst the vibrant tapestry of blossoms and verdant greenery, the world becomes a playground of desire, where every touch, every scent, every sight ignites the flames of passion and invites the soul to embrace the sensual delights of the season.

It had been a little over two years since I lost my wings to Lyris, since I found out Azriel is my mate, and the last two years have been good. Sure, there have been moments where I fell back into that dark space, but Azriel was always there, ready to pull me back into the light when I was done reflecting.

During that time, our lives have undergone significant changes. Azriel and I were gifted a townhouse by Feyre and Rhys, providing us with our own space to build a life together. Additionally, my friendship with Lucien had deepened. Though we had only met briefly before the incident with my wings, our connection had grown, and now he joined me every weekend for a night out in the Night Court.

Despite the progress in our lives, there remained an unspoken tension between Azriel and me. While he was attentive and affectionate, there was a notable absence of intimacy. Though he'd shower with me, share kisses, and embrace me, our relationship had not progressed beyond that point. I'd attempted to initiate intimacy, but each time Azriel seemed to retreat, offering excuses that left me feeling frustrated and unfulfilled.

As Lucien and I entered the bustling tavern, the familiar sights and sounds of Velaris washed over me, momentarily distracting me from my tangled thoughts. The scent of ale and roasted meat filled the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and chatter that filled every corner of the room.

I glanced around, searching for a quiet corner where we could sit and talk. The tavern was packed with patrons, each one lost in their own conversations and revelries.

Lucien followed my lead, his eyes scanning the room as he sought out the perfect spot. "How about over there?" he suggested, nodding towards a cozy corner booth bathed in soft candlelight.

I nodded in agreement, grateful for his intuition. Together, we made our way over to the booth and settled in, the comfortable silence between us speaking volumes.

"So," Lucien began, breaking the silence with a curious glint in his eye, "what's been on your mind lately, songbird?"

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to broach the subject. But then, with a deep breath, I decided to lay it all out on the table. "Azriel," I confessed, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Lucien's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his gaze locking with mine in a silent exchange of understanding. He knew exactly what I was talking about, without me having to say another word.

"He's been… distant," I continued, my voice tinged with frustration. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong, Lucien. I've tried everything I can think of, but he always pulls away."

Lucien's expression softened, his hand reaching out to cover mine in a comforting gesture. "I'm sure it's not you," he reassured me, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Azriel's been through a lot, as have you. Maybe he just needs some more time."

I nodded, taking solace in his words. "I hope you're right," I replied, trying to keep the doubt from creeping into my voice. But deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, that there was a distance between Azriel and me that I couldn't bridge no matter how hard I tried. Then, an idea sparked in my mind, and I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "What if I tried… something different?" I suggested, a mischievous glint in my eye.

He raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Different how?" he asked, leaning in even closer to hear my suggestion. "Songbird, are you suggesting I help you to seduce your mate?” Lucien chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye to match the slight blush across his cheeks.

“That’s exactly what I’m asking for my wonderful Lord of Foxes” I smirked, listening to his joyous laugh dancing through the tavern like silk in the wind. It made me smile, to hear him distracted from his own mate related sorrows.

“Trying to butter me up, are we?” He grinned, shaking his head at my answering snicker. “What if you were to seduce him?" Lucien suggested, his tone playful yet suggestive. "Show him just how much you desire him, and maybe he won't be able to resist."

I considered the suggestion, a thrill of excitement coursing through me at the thought of finally crossing that line with Azriel. "How would I do that?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Lucien grinned, clearly enjoying our clandestine conversation. "You could start by wearing something… provocative," he suggested, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Show him what he's been missing out on."

I blushed at the suggestion, the idea of dressing up to seduce Azriel both thrilling and nerve-wracking. "That could work," I admitted, feeling a surge of determination building within me.

Lucien nodded in approval. "And what about… teasing him?" he suggested, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Give him little hints of what's to come, and let his imagination do the rest."

I swallowed hard at the suggestion, the thought of teasing Azriel sending a shiver of anticipation down my spine. "That could definitely get his attention," I agreed, my mind already racing with possibilities, but as we continued to brainstorm, I couldn't shake the feeling of nervous excitement building within me. Maybe this was exactly what Azriel and I needed to finally take that next step, to bridge the gap that had been growing between us.

“But,” Lucien interjected, raising a finger and pointing it at me, “you could also try talking to him.” I raised a brow at this, and he sighed, his shoulders slumping as if a physical reminder of the weight of his sorrows, “I know that it’s not working with Elain, but you an-”

“Luce,” I say softly, interrupting him with a soothing hand on his warm arm, “I would never use that against you, not even in a stupid disagreement, c’mon.” I watch as his cheeks redden, his head falling, long, golden-red hair hiding his expression.

Tonight was going to be a late night.

It had been weeks, and this evening had been meticulously planned, every detail carefully orchestrated in my attempt to seduce Azriel. I had adorned myself in my most alluring attire, a dress that clung to every curve, and had spent hours perfecting my makeup and hair.

As Azriel stepped through the door of our townhouse, I greeted him with a coy smile, my heart pounding with nervous anticipation. Tonight was the night I would finally make my move, the night I would show him just how much I desired him.

"Hey, Az," I purred, sauntering over to him with what I hoped was a seductive sway in my hips. "Did you have a good day?"

He nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he took in my appearance. "It was fine," he replied, his voice low and husky. "What about you?"

I smiled, feeling a surge of confidence at his response. "Oh, you know," I said, my voice laced with playful flirtation. "Just counting down the minutes until you got home."

But as I began to put my plan into action, things quickly took an unexpected turn. My attempts at seduction came off as clumsy and awkward, each gesture more embarrassing than the last.

I tried to flirt, to tease him with suggestive remarks, but my words came out jumbled and incoherent. "You must be tired," I blurted out, cringing at my own lack of finesse. "Maybe I could help you relax?"

Azriel watched me with a bemused expression, clearly unsure of how to respond to my awkward advances. "Um, sure," he said, his tone cautious as he took a step back, clearly sensing my nervous energy.

I attempted to initiate physical contact, to seduce him with a touch, but my hands fumbled clumsily and fell short of their mark. I reached out to brush a lock of hair from his face, but ended up poking him in the eye instead.

"Ow!" Azriel exclaimed, blinking rapidly as he recoiled from my touch. "Are you okay?"

I winced, mortified by my own clumsiness. "I'm so sorry," I stammered, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to…"

But it wasn't until I saw the disappointment in Azriel's eyes that the full weight of my humiliation hit me. I had wanted so desperately to seduce him, to show him just how much he meant to me, but instead, I had only succeeded in making a fool of myself.

Tears welled up in my eyes, hot and stinging, as I turned away from him, unable to bear the thought of him seeing me in such a vulnerable state. I had wanted tonight to be perfect, but instead, it had been a disaster of epic proportions.

"Hey," Azriel's voice was gentle, his hand reaching out to touch my shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "Are you okay?"

I shook my head, unable to speak past the lump forming in my throat. How could I explain to him the depths of my humiliation, the sheer magnitude of my disappointment? Azriel wasn't one to give up easily. With infinite patience, he wrapped me in his arms, holding me close as I sobbed against his chest.

After I took a few moments to collect myself while Azriel held me close, his warmth enveloping me, I was able to take a deep breath and steady my emotions before speaking up. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible against the fabric of his shirt. "I just wanted tonight to be special."

Azriel's arms tightened around me, his touch a comforting anchor amidst the storm of my emotions. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. "We can try again another time."

I sniffled, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over me at his understanding. "But why?" I blurted out, the question tumbling from my lips before I could stop it. "Why won't you… why won't you make love to me?"

Azriel pulled back slightly, his expression unreadable as he looked down at me. "It's not that I don't want to," he spluttered, “believe me, honey, I’ve wanted nothing more these last couple years,” he encouraged with a low growl, his eyes darkening for a moment. “But,” Azriel continued, his voice tinged with sadness. "It's just… complicated."

My heart sank at his words, a knot of worry forming in the pit of my stomach. "Complicated how?" I pressed, my voice trembling with uncertainty.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he searched for the right words. "I don't want you to feel… obligated," he admitted, his gaze filled with concern. "After everything you've been through, I don't want you to feel like you have to… do this with me."

I blinked in surprise at his confession, the weight of his words sinking in. "But I want to," I insisted, my voice firm with determination. "I want to be with you, Az. I want this."

Azriel's expression softened at my words, his eyes meeting mine in a silent exchange of understanding. "I know," he said, his voice gentle and reassuring. "But I don't want you to rush into anything because you feel like you have to."

Tears welled up in my eyes at his concern, the depth of his love washing over me like a wave. "I'm not rushing," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath. "I'm ready."

Azriel's gaze softened at my words, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Okay," he said, his voice filled with quiet resolve. "Okay."

The weight of Azriel's concern lingered in the air between us, casting a shadow over our tender moment. I bit my lip, gathering my courage before speaking again. "Az," I began, my voice barely above a whisper, "can we try tonight?"

His brows furrowed in concern, his gaze searching mine as if trying to gauge my sincerity. "Are you sure?" he asked, his tone gentle yet cautious.

I nodded, a determined glint in my eyes. "Yes," I replied, my voice stronger this time. "I want this, Az. I want to be with you."

Azriel studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable as he weighed my words. Finally, he let out a soft sigh, his shoulders relaxing as if he had come to a decision. "Okay," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of uncertainty and resolve. "But only if you're absolutely sure."

I nodded, a sense of gratitude swelling within me at his understanding. "I am," I assured him, my voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach. "I trust you, Az. I always have."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his eyes softening with warmth and affection. "I love you," he said, his voice a gentle caress that soothed the ache in my heart.

"I love you too," I whispered, feeling a sense of peace settle over me as I nestled into his embrace.

The air between us crackled with tension as we made our way to our bedroom, our footsteps echoing in the quiet of the townhouse. Despite our earlier conversation, a nervous energy hung heavy in the air, making each moment feel strained and uncertain.

I stole a glance at Azriel out of the corner of my eye, finding him watching me with a mixture of apprehension and longing. My heart skipped a beat at the sight, the weight of his gaze sending a shiver down my spine.

As we reached the door to our bedroom, I paused, my hand hovering uncertainly over the handle. "Are you sure about this?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Azriel nodded, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. "Yes," he replied, his voice steady despite the nerves that flickered in his eyes. "I want to be with you, more than anything, as long as you're ready."

I swallowed hard, feeling a surge of emotion welling up inside me, not immune to the irony of the question. With a shaky breath, I pushed open the door, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows across the room. We stood there for a moment, neither of us moving, as if unsure of what to do next. But then, with a shared glance, we moved as one, closing the distance between us with hesitant steps.

I reached out to touch him, my fingers trembling as they brushed against his cheek. "I love you," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the pounding of my heart.

Azriel's eyes softened at my words, his hand coming up to cradle my face in a gentle caress. "I love you too," he murmured, his voice a soft whisper that sent a shiver down my spine.

And then, with a shared smile, we began to undress, each movement slow and deliberate as we shed the layers that separated us. It was awkward at first, our hands fumbling and uncertain as we navigated the unfamiliar terrain of each other's bodies.

But as we moved together, our laughter mingling with the soft sounds of the night, something shifted between us. The tension that had once hung heavy in the air began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of ease and familiarity that washed over us like a warm embrace.

(MDNI SMUT AFTER THE CUT)

Azriel's touch is a symphony of sensations, each brush of his fingertips sending sparks of desire dancing along my skin. He starts with feather-light caresses, tracing invisible patterns across the curve of my jaw, down the length of my neck, and along the swell of my collarbones. Each touch is a promise of things to come, a tantalizing tease that leaves me yearning for more.

His lips follow the path his fingers have traced, pressing soft, lingering kisses against my skin. He explores every inch of me with a reverence that takes my breath away, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake. I gasp as his lips find the hollow of my throat, his tongue tracing delicate circles against my pulse point.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against my skin, his voice low and husky with desire. I shiver at his words, a rush of heat pooling between my thighs.

As he continues to explore, his hands roam freely over my body, mapping every curve and contour with a hunger that mirrors my own. He cups the weight of my breasts in his palms, his thumbs brushing lightly over my hardened nipples, sending jolts of pleasure shooting through me.

"Azriel," I whisper, my voice trembling with longing as I arch into his touch, a low moan escaping my lips as he takes one swollen nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling with a fervor that leaves me dizzy with desire. His other hand travels lower, skimming across the sensitive skin of my abdomen before dipping between my thighs.

I gasp as his fingers find the heat between my legs, teasing me with maddening slowness. He circles my clit with his thumb, applying just enough pressure to make me squirm.

"You drive me wild," he confesses, his breath hot against my skin as he slides a single finger inside me, testing my readiness. I'm already slick with desire, my body eager for more of him. I rock my hips against his hand, wordlessly urging him to continue. With a low growl of approval, Azriel adds a second finger, stretching me in the most exquisite way possible.

I moan his name, my fingers tangling in his dark locks as I pull him closer, desperate for more of his touch. "I want you," I breathe, my voice barely more than a whisper.

“All good things come to those who wait,” he smirks against my breast, his tongue swiping at my hardened nipple.

“Please,” I whine, my hips meeting his gentle thrusts, the soft squelching noises between my thighs steadily growing louder and more frequent. He complies eagerly, increasing the pace and pressure of his ministrations until I'm teetering on the edge of oblivion, every nerve in my body singing with pleasure.

And just when I think I can't take any more, he withdraws his fingers, leaving me gasping and aching for release. With a wicked smile, he leans up to capture my lips in a searing kiss, his tongue tangling with mine in a dance as old as time.

I lose myself in the kiss, the world narrowing down to the feel of his lips against mine, the taste of him on my tongue. We part with fierce huffs of breaths as he reaches down to ready himself, using the slick he collected between my thighs to lather his thick length. I whimper at the sight of it, his long, intimidating length, prettily flushed and already dripping precum.

Azriel shushes me softly as he lines himself up, slowly sliding himself against my clit for a moment before notching at my entrance. With a deep breath, he slowly starts to slide in.

I let out a long gasp, my hands flying to his shoulders as he hovers above me, his face pinched so beautifully in both pleasure and concentration.

“Gods,” he whimpers as his thighs meet mine, my heart flipping at the sound and before soon Azriel and I meld together in a dance of desire, our bodies moving in perfect synchronization. The heat between us ignites, consuming us in a blaze of passion as we lose ourselves in the ecstasy of our union.

Azriel's movements are primal and unrestrained, each thrust driving me closer to the edge of oblivion. I cling to him, my nails digging into his skin as I meet him thrust for thrust, our bodies colliding with a force that borders on violence.

Slick with sweat, our bodies slide against each other, creating a symphony of sounds that fills the room. The scent of our arousal hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the heady aroma of candles burning low.

"You're mine," he growls, his voice a rough whisper against my ear. "Mine to claim."

I moan in response, the sound a guttural cry of need as pleasure courses through my veins. "Yes," I gasp, my voice barely more than a desperate plea.

The intensity of our connection is overwhelming, a tidal wave of desire crashing over us with each passing moment. I lose myself in the sensation, the world narrowing down to the feel of Azriel's skin against mine, the sound of his ragged breaths mingling with my own.

He leans down to capture my lips in a savage kiss, his tongue plundering my mouth with a hunger that borders on feral. I bite back, matching his intensity with a ferocity of my own as we devour each other with a raw, primal need.

Every touch, every kiss, every thrust is a testament to our shared desire, a silent declaration of the love that binds us together. We are lost in each other, consumed by the fire that burns between us, unable to tell where one ends and the other begins.

As the pleasure mounts, I feel myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my entire being consumed by the overwhelming tide of sensation. Azriel senses my impending release and adjusts his rhythm, driving me over the edge with a final, desperate thrust.

I scream his name as ecstasy washes over me in a blinding burst of light, my body convulsing with pleasure as I tumble into the abyss of sensation. "Azriel!" I cry out, my voice a plea for more as I surrender to the depths of bliss.

He growls in response, panting in my ear, “let me put a baby in you, my mate. Let me-” he lets out a grunt as his movements become more erratic, “let me show the world how good i give it to you, to this pretty little pussy.”

I whimper at the words, my sex addled mind going blank for a moment as he suspends my pleasure, “yes, please, Az, put a baby in me,” I moan loudly, gently scratching the delicate membrane of his right wing.

Azriel lets out a roar of pleasure as he lets himself go, shoving in as far as he can and staying there as he fills me with his warm seed. “I love you,” he pants softly in my ear, his entire body laying sticky and limp on top of mine.

“I love you too,” I breathe, my hands moving to rake through his soft curls.

As the waves of pleasure slowly subside, Azriel turns us to hold me close, his touch gentle yet possessive. There's an unspoken understanding between us, a connection that goes deeper, a thread that sparkles in pure gold with contentment and satisfaction. His arms around me feel like home, like a sanctuary where I can be truly myself.

His whispered words of love and reassurance wash over me like a soothing balm, each syllable a tender caress against my skin. He speaks of our bond, of the love that binds us together, and I listen, my heart swelling with gratitude for the man who has become my everything.

I nestle against him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek. It's a comforting rhythm, a reminder that I am safe in his embrace, cocooned in the warmth of our shared intimacy.

"Stay," he murmurs softly, his breath warm against my skin. "I know you have to get cleaned up… but, just a little longer."

I smile, my heart swelling with affection for this man who has become so much more than just a lover. "Of course," I reply, my voice a gentle murmur in the darkness.

Azriel presses a tender kiss to my forehead, his touch a gentle caress along the curve of my spine. With each stroke of his fingers, I feel the tension leaving my body, replaced by a sense of calm and contentment.

We lie together in silence, basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking. There's no need for words; our connection speaks volumes in the quiet of the room. I trace lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips, a comforting reminder of the love that binds us together.

And as sleep finally claims us both, I drift off with the comforting knowledge that in Azriel's arms, I have found a kind of love that transcends mere physical desire, a love that will sustain us through whatever challenges lie ahead.

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