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ladylokilaufeyson5 · 1 year

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Evasively Yours

EVASIVELY YOURS | Azriel x Female!Illyrian!Reader (Part 2 of NEVER YOURS)

SUMMARY: The fallout after Azriel found out you were his mate, and that you kept it from him.

WARNINGS: Angst angst angst. I think I have found my true calling as an angst writer. Swearing. Rhys is the big brother we deserve. Azriel is a bit of an asshole and Mor is a gem.

WORDS: 2.6K

You wished you could stay at the mountain camps forever. The males were training the females as required, with you watching over their teaching techniques and helping the girls out when they needed it. You didn’t mind helping the females – some of them even seemed to be relieved in receiving your assistance. The females were all younger, with the oldest being twenty, and the youngest thirteen. You understood why the older females weren’t training – the backwards ways of the Illyrian people had been ingrained within them for too long.

You extended your stay from two days to three, to four, and on the fifth day, you could tell that you were not going to be welcome much longer. So you packed up, threatened Devlon a little bit, promised to be back to see how the females were faring, and left.

Up in the air, the wind pushed against your wings, almost as if it were telling you not to return to Velaris. Because in the city of starlight awaited the shadowsinger who seemed to want nothing to do with you. Which hurt. So much so, it hurt. There were many ways you could attempt to describe the shredding of your soul, but none of those descriptions would do the pain you felt justice. It was unbearable to think about… so you didn’t.

You arrived in Velaris just before sunset and landed out the front of the River House, leaves and plants rustling at the force of your landing and the final sweep of your wings. Those plants, those flowers and bushes – Elain had planted those. Part of you wanted to rip them out from the roots and burn them, watch as the flames consumed that part of her – but the other part, the more logical side told you not to. This was not Elain’s fault. It was yours.

You entered the River House with a slight droop to your wings as Azriel clouded your mind. You tried to push him away but – how many times had you walked in here for a family dinner, betting on who would start a fight that night? How many times had you walked into this house together, him bumping your shoulder playfully as he chuckled at a joke you told? How many times had you both shushed each other, trying not to laugh too loudly as Nyx slept soundly upstairs? By the Mother, everything seemed to remind you of him now that he wasn’t yours.

Not that he’d ever been yours. That was just wishful thinking on your part.

You turned through the hallways, so consumed by your thoughts that you didn’t even notice someone was in front of you until you bumped into them.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” you apologised, steading them.

You instantly let go as if you’d been burned when you realised it was Elain who stood before you. A bubbling anger rose inside of you, threatening to overcome your logical thinking, but you pushed it down. None of this was Elain’s fault. The only person to blame was you.

“You’re back,” Elain stated with a small smile. “How was your mission?”

Ugh. If only Elain was rude, and didn’t care about you. It would make your life so much simpler if she was easy to hate. But you didn’t hate her. She had always been kind to you, always caring and thoughtful. She was gentle by nature.

You shrugged. “It went… well. I, uh… I have to update Rhys about it.”

“Of course,” Elain acknowledged, a smile still plastered on her pretty face.

You gave her a slightly strained smile and continued on through the house, all the way to Rhys’s office. You knocked this time, and Rhys responded, telling you to come in. You entered and walked up to his desk, the High Lord raising his head to survey you.

“Did it really take five days for you to figure out how to get Devlon to train the females properly?” Rhys questioned as he stood up from his desk.

“He has agreed to train the female properly,” you began, “and I stayed back to make sure he did as he said he would.”

Rhys studied you for a moment before leaning against his desk, arms crossed and eyeing you closely. You stood tall, not allowing him to see the sea of anguish within you, the ocean that churned with your heartache. You couldn’t let anyone ever see this part of you, the part that had once been full of hope and light, but was now shrouded in misery and darkness. And not the darkness you were used to. No, the darkness you were used to was calm and soothing, protective and familiar. This darkness was never ending, tormenting, and devastating.

“You don’t have to keep everything to yourself, you know,” Rhys murmured. “I’m here for you – not as your High Lord, but as your friend. As your brother.”

Your heart swelled at his words and before you could stop it, the tears came tumbling down. Rhys was there instantly, holding you tight as you cried into his shoulder, sobbing and allowing five days’ worth of torture and grief to tumble out in the form of your cries. You held Rhys tight to you, as if he was a lifeline, knowing that if you let go right now you’d be lost in your sea of sorrow forever.

Rhys stroked your hair softly and you tried to get deep breaths into your lungs in an attempt to calm down. You’d cried in front of Rhys before, but you never liked it. Of course, people rarely liked to cry, but it made you feel weak, like all the males who told you that your emotions would get the best of you were right. Because when you were crying, those emotions really did take over. You didn’t feel anything except sorrow and pain.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rhys inquired.

You looked up at him, at your High Lord, and nearly shook your head. But… he couldn’t look inside your head, lest he see the depths of your suffering. So you took a deep breath, and hiccupped, “Azriel is my mate.” Rhys cocked his head, his only indication of surprise, and you continued, “He – I… he kissed Elain, because I hadn’t told him. I don’t think he knew, and… and he followed me to Windhaven, and then I accidentally told him and now… now he hates me.”

Rhys’s lips twisted. “Why do you think he hates you?”

“You should have heard the way he spoke to me,” you whispered weakly. “He – he’s never spoken to me like that. And he just… left.”

Rhys hummed lowly in thought, and even rubbed his chin. You wiped the tears from your cheeks and sniffed, pulling away from Rhys’s warm embrace. You didn’t want to be here anymore. You wanted solitude, and peace. Peace from your mind, and the thoughts that raged through it like a wildfire, only to be drowned out by the waves of misery that chased you.

“I’m going to go now,” you uttered, rubbing your arms.

Rhys was silent for a moment, before he admitted, “We all guessed, you know.” You looked up at him, and he clarified, “That the two of you were mates.”

You scoffed and shook your head. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t really matter anymore. See you, Rhys.”

You left him in his office, and he did not follow. Maybe he knew you were at your breaking point, and that if you had to say one more word about it you might quite literally explode. You exited the River House, shutting the door behind you quietly and took off, your wings lifting you into the air with a single swoop. You glided across the city of starlight and all the way to the House of Wind, where you prayed to the Mother that Azriel would not be. You landed on the balcony, already feeling exhaustion cloud you and your thoughts. Maybe you could sleep peacefully for years and years and never have to face this problem.

Your footsteps echoed on the marble floors of the mountain palace as you made your way to your room, trying to ignore the thoughts that hounded you. You reached your hallway, intending to have a very long bath before getting into bed, when you stopped in your tracks. Azriel stood at the other end of the hall, also seemingly halted.

Now that you could see him, the only thing you wanted to do was talk to him. You just wanted to figure things out, to fix the fracturing of your heart and soul.

“Az–”

But he turned away and into his own room, closing the door with a loud slam, with enough force that you flinched. So maybe he couldn’t be reasoned with. Maybe that was it, maybe him closing the door meant he was closing the door on any possibility that you could work through it.

Because if Azriel couldn’t work through it, then no one could.

So you entered your own room, closing your door with much less force, and stood in the middle of your room. It used to be familiar and comforting, but now… it just reminded you of Azriel. Over there, by the window, the two of you would sit and read when you had a free moment. On the bed, the two of you would lay together after a particularly bad nightmare, comforting each other simply with your presence.

You left the room and entered your adjoining bathroom, twisting the faucet handle, allowing hot, steaming water to fill the bathtub. You slid out of your leathers and stepped into the tub, hissing slightly at the heat, before lowering yourself down, and resting against the lip and tipping your head back. When the water reached the top, you turned it off and soaked, feeling the water settle around you as you stilled. You grabbed your soap, smelling of lavender and vanilla, and scrubbed yourself down, trying to wash away the grime of the Illyrian camps, as well as the pain of the rejection of the bond.

Because that’s what it was. You could deny it no longer – Azriel wanted nothing to do with you, it was clear as day. He had rejected the bond, and you felt it in your chest, felt the string that bound your two souls weakening. The pain was still there, the anguish and aching, but the bond felt… less. It was as if a veil had come down, shrouding the bond and concealing it from view. You knew it was still there, you could feel it faintly, but… it was as if something was cutting away at it, as if the bond was wilting away. Maybe when it finally did, you’d no longer feel the torment that threatened to overwhelm you.

Something caught your eye as you tried to relax. A shadow, small and harmless, sat in the corner of the room. If you didn’t know better, you’d assume that the candles were causing the strange silhouette. But you did know better.

“And what do you want?” you hissed.

The shadow recoiled and disappeared, leaving you alone.

You stayed in the bath until the water was cold and urged you to get out. You dried yourself off, the cotton towel soft against your skin, and you opened your drawer in search of sleepwear. You pulled on a pair of comfy pants, and opened the top drawer, freezing as you saw an oversized shirt tucked away, the ebony shade of the item almost hiding it from view. You hesitantly reached out for the fabric, and against your better judgement, picked it up, allowing the cloth to slide between your fingers. You inhaled the scent – night-chilled wind and cedar, with a hint of your own scent – and your hands fisted around it.

You should get rid of it. You doubted Azriel would want it, now that it gave off your smell of lavender and vanilla, so maybe you could burn it. Maybe it would be therapeutic, in a way.

A knock at your door dragged you from your thoughts, and you let out a, “just a minute!” before stuffing the shirt back in your drawer and grabbing another, shrugging in on and not bothering to do up the buttons in the slats, instead letting the clothing hang from your frame as you opened the door.

Mor stood at the door, eyes searching yours in concern. You moved aside to let her in and you shut the door behind her. Her stare never left you, and after a moment she sighed and walked over, motioning for you to turn around. You did as she ordered, allowing her deft fingers to do up the slats of your nightclothes.

“Thanks,” you mumbled once she had finished.

She only hummed in response, care and compassion clear in her warm brown eyes as she studied you. She opened up her arms and you sighed, falling into them. Mor held you tightly, her arms protecting you from the world and all its sorrow. You rested your head against her shoulder as she held you close, and you allowed a single tear to escape.

“Now, now,” Mor murmured, rubbing your arms. “Starfall is in a few days. Do you have something to wear?”

You smiled at the blonde in thanks as she changed the subject, most likely sensing that you did not want to talk about it. Not now, and maybe not ever. Maybe if you pushed it all down far enough, it would disappear.

“No,” you admitted, “but I’m sure you have something for me.”

“You know me so well,” Mor grinned.

You smiled at your friend and she smiled back, but you could still see concern in her eyes. You could tell her that Azriel rejected the bond, but she’d probably already guessed. Besides, you didn’t want to talk about it. You wanted to get lost in talk of dresses and parties and shoes and other useless things, if only to distract yourself from the drowning of your soul.

You felt bad for Lucien. You’d never really thought about how Elain’s rejection of the mating bond had felt for him. You didn’t realise it would be like this, like your soul was screaming and wailing until it could no longer, only to start back up again as soon as it could. You didn’t know it would feel like a stabbing pain in your chest, like someone had jammed a knife up your ribs and into your heart, and was slowly twisting with every minute that passed.

And of course, both of your mates ended up together. Of course the two beings who rejected the bond were together. Because that was what usually happened, right? When a person rejected the bond, it was because they wanted someone else. Had Elain decided, all those years ago when Azriel had first visited the Archeron Estate, that she wanted him? Was that another reason why she rejected Lucien?

It would do you no good to ponder it. So you sat with Mor and gossiped and chatted away until the sun rose, talking of nothing important.

TAGLIST (all users that could not be tagged are in bold) :

@sv0430 @bsenpai @mich0731 @nobody00sthings @vickykazuya @abrunettefangirlnerd @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @elizabethrosecresswell @my-otrand @fuckthatfeeling @im-bili @littlebookbengal @feyretopia @satellitesunshine @marina468 @fartimagines @fussel9913 @jacksonpleasestopkillingme @fan-of-many-bands @azriel-luvr @xreaderbooksreads @twsssmlmaa @ilov3sharks @mllemarianne @gamarancianne @holywolfsstuff @shadowsinger-654 @lovra974 @cullenswife @megudragon @fieldofdaisiies @psychobookoholic

i’m sorry if i forgot anyone, i tried to get them all down <3 Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in part three!!

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champi8n · 1 year

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how you get the girl | ethan landry

ethan landry x fem reader

warnings: swearing I think, nothing else just fluff

sypnosis: ethan's biggest regret is losing you and he can't stand being without you anymore

note: inspired by the song by ts, I'm taking requests and i hope u guys like it 🤍

every minute, hour, day and month that went by without you had been an absolute pain for ethan

he couldn’t stand it anymore, time wasn’t helping him get over you, it was helping him regret his mistake even more

ethan met you in a sunny morning in the school library, he was gloomy and bored as he studied when suddenly you tapped his shoulder, asking if he could participate in a survey

he still remembers how you were squinting your eyes because of the sun and the way your skin was sun kissed and he remembers how you took his breath away

you sat with him and asked him questions and he just watched as you noted them down, feeling nervous at the presence of such a pretty girl like you

yet ethan sensed something about him had caught your eye too from the way your friends had to basically drag you away from continuing your conversation with him and going back to doing your job

that same day as he was leaving the library he was surprised to see you and your group mates were still outside the library, talking and what he assumed was collecting the results from the survey

ethan remembers how he looked away when he noticed you turned to see him and the way his hands started sweating as he realised you were walking over to him

he also recalls how you asked for his number and the way he couldn’t believe a girl like you would lay her eyes on someone like him, but who was he to complain?

after that moment ethan remembers how you completely took away the loneliness in his life and replaced with something new, something he wasn’t really used to, the feeling of being cared for

you guys would talk for hours and you would ask about his day, about his feelings, about his interests and about himself and you never made him feel bad or as if he was annoying you

he was slowly opening up to you and you were also completely comfortable around ethan too

everything was going great until suddenly ethan’s insecurities got the best of him

why would you ever actually be around a guy like him willingly? you were too good for him in every way and he was just some loser that even his own friends mistreated sometimes, you deserved better than him and he was just slowing you down

he stayed up all night that evening, his mind running in circles not letting him rest and by the morning he already had his decision made

he walked all the way to your dorm and delivered the words he regrets with all of his soul

“we shouldn’t see each other anymore”

ethan still remembers the look in your eyes, the way you asked him if you had done anything wrong and his heart aches as he remembers your teary eyes

he had destroyed those beautiful four months of building up a relationship just because of his lack of self worth

now, three months later he felt stupid and filled with anger at himself for what he did and for all the pain he caused you

every time you would walk past him no matter how he tried avoiding you he could notice how you gave him quick sad glances

he noticed the way your friends gave him dirty looks probably angry about him hurting you

and he also realised he hasn’t seen you around at all in the last week

“holy shit, is it finally happening?” chad said, bringing ethan out of his thoughts, making him realise he has been quiet for around 5 minutes caught in a trance filled by regret

him and chad were having a conversation about you when suddenly it all clicked for ethan

“what the hell have i done?” ethan sighed, his expression filled with despair and disappointment, making chad laugh at him

“you finally realised you fucked up i need to document this” chad pulled his phone out of his pocket, taking a picture of ethan while giggling

“what do i do now?” he asked truly desperate, his eyes about to tear up as he walked up and started strutting around the room

“you get her back” chad replied, shrugging his shoulders acting as if it was the easiest thing to do

“isn’t it too late for me? i mean it’s been three months, what if she’s moved on?”

chad stood up from his desk chair, walking over to ethan making sure he stops the strutting and grabbing him by his shoulders

“do you love her?” he asked, looking at ethan dead in the eye

“i do!” ethan replied, without a hint of hesitation, making chad smile proudly

“then go get her” chad said completely calm, making ethan confused

“how do i…?” he was quickly interrupted

“stop wasting more time and just go find wherever the hell that girl is” chad answered, going back to sit down

ethan quickly went to look for his shoes and didn’t even bother to find a jacket before he was opening the door, ready to go find you

“before you go!” chad shouted as he turned around and realised ethan was already outside “she went back home, you will find her there!” chad screamed down the hallway as ethan was running

first thing he did was get in a ferry from new york to new jersey, using all of his money in it but if he was being honest, he couldn’t care less about his money

all he could think about was you, he had no idea what he was going to say as soon as he was in front of you or how he was going to find you

until he remembered a very special detail, pulling out his wallet from his pocket and opening it, revealing a picture of you he’s kept there for months

you had sent it to him on one of your visits home, you were all dressed up for your little sister’s quinceañera party and he smiled happily as he flipped the picture and saw your address written on the back of it

when the ferry arrived he immediately head straight to your house, hoping his phone battery would last all the way until he found you

he walked for about an hour and as he was finally getting closer to your place it started pouring

he was only wearing a plain black t shirt paired with some jeans and his shoes and in less than 3 minutes he was completely soaked

yet he couldn’t care less about himself in that moment because nothing was going to stop him from getting his attempt of winning you back

he had to put his phone in his pocket because he was afraid he would damage it because of the rain so he was relying on his memory as he walked through what he believes is your neighbourhood

ethan was confident you lived in the 21st…. or what it the 20th? he stood in the middle of both houses, shaking by the rain but then as he was looking into one of the windows of a house, he caught a glimpse of the girl who has been the owner of his all of his thoughts

it was just a tiny glimpse, you just walked by the window to then disappear back into the house but it was just enough for ethan to know it was you

he took a deep breath before walking out of the rain and head into your porch, building himself up with courage and confidence before knocking three times at your door

he only had to wait a few seconds before the door was being opened by a woman who he recognized as your mother from pictures you had shown him

“hi, I'm so sorry this is so random ma'am, is y/n home?”

the woman frowned confused at who ethan was at first, looking him up and down wondering why the hell he didn't have an umbrella

“one second please” she told him, smiling at him before looking around inside her house “¡mija, baja!” she screamed into the house as ethan just stood there awkwardly smiling

he then heard footsteps coming from the stairs and that's when he saw you

“¿que paso, mamá?” you asked, walking towards the door where your mother was and that's when you realized who was at the door

ethan saw the look of surprise in your face quickly turn into a sad look and it broke his heart all over again since he didn't want to hurt you even more than he already did

“ethan...” his name came out of your lips softly, almost in a broken “what the fuck are you doing here?” you asked, trying to sound more strong yet something in your voice gave your feelings away

“ethan?” your mother said, sounding angry “this is the boy?” she said, giving him a dirty look

he understood your mother probably knew he had hurt you and she had all the right to be mad at him, he was getting ready to say something, anything when suddenly the door was shut on him

“¡mamá!” he heard you scream from the inside, you said something else but he couldn't really understand it

“you are not speaking to my daughter, go away” your mother screamed from the inside but ethan wasn't ready to give up yet

“ma'am, please, I just need to talk to her" he said, hoping she would hear it but he knew it was a lost cause when he didn't hear an answer, just you arguing with your mother

12 minutes later, the door opened one more time, revealing yourself to him again giving him some hope, he smiled at you gently and you wanted to smile back but you decided you want to keep some of your dignity in case his reason to visit you was not the one you desired

“you have around 15 minutes, she doesn't know i came out” you said, trying to look as cold as possible so he wouldn't realize your nervousness

“thank you” ethan said, gaining an eye roll from you, it hurt but he knew he deserved it

“god, ethan, you're shivering, what the hell were you thinking going outside with not even a jacket?” you told him off, taking off sweater and wrapping him around it, lucky for him you were wearing an oversized one

“you” he replied, confusing you “i was thinking about you” he continued, gulping while fidgeting with his hands

you froze in your spot struggling to find something to say, it was as if had such a power over you to make you forget your own thought process

“y/n I know I fucked up and I know I broke your heart and I'm an idiot and you probably deserve better than someone like me” ethan said trying to find the right words and letting himself just speak without overthinking

“it's been a long three months without your presence in my life and it has been completely unbearable, I have been waking up every single morning missing you and regretting the fact that I was afraid to tell you how I felt” he noticed the way your eyes started getting teary and the way you were acting tough yet your eyes gave away your sensibility

“the truth is I was afraid that everything was just too good to be true, afraid of letting you down and afraid I wouldn't be good enough for you... I mean, look at me, I am literally just a nerd with nothing to give and you're the most amazing person I have ever met” he could feel his heart pound fast due to his nerves

“every detail about you is just mesmerizing, you're the most beautiful girl I have ever seen and apart from that you're also the funniest, smartest, wisest, coolest, sweetest and most intelligent girl I have ever known” your vision was blurry as you couldn't stop yourself from crying, you were embarrassed at yourself for doing it in front of him yet soon you felt his hand on your face, wiping your tears away with such delicacy that felt like home to you

you observed him for a moment, he looked so beautiful with his curly hair wet from the rain, his shirt stuck to his body because it was soaked and his eyes that gazed truthfully into yours

“I must've lost my mind when I didn't even think about communicating my feelings to you but you need to know y/n, I want you for who you are, I don't care if it's for worse or for better as long as I'm with you” he looked at you with such confidence and courage, making you want to break down on your knees and just cry like a baby in his arms

“I would wait forever if it means I will be with you, I know I broke your heart but just give me a chance to put it back together and fix the disaster I made” his voice was breaking and you could see how he was also close to crying

when you didn't say anything he started to think it was too late for him, that you didn't want him anymore and soon he could feel himself starting to cry

he looked at the ground, wiping his own tears of his face feeling ashamed of himself for losing you

but his world was turned upside down again when suddenly he felt your tight embrace and your lips clash sweetly with his, giving into a passionate kissed filled with all the emotions that were bottled up by the both of you on the period of absence from each other's lives that happened

his hands found his place on your waist as yours on his messed up soaked hair, both of you melting into each other's arms

the kiss ended yet both of you still refused to let go of one of another, instead pulling in each other in even more into a warm hug

“you're so dumb” you spoke in giggles, pulling back to look him in the eyes as both of your foreheads touched, his hands cupping your face

“i know” he laughed, he felt euphoric looking into your eyes as you looked at him back, feeling the warm fuzzy feeling of love

he pulled you in, giving you quick kisses all over your face, making you have a soft flush on your face

“come inside now, you're freezing” you grabbed his hand, leading him inside the house, ready to explain to your mother what happened

he allowed himself to be pulled in by you with a wide smile on his face that he's sure won't leave in a while

he finally got you and this time he won't allow himself to ever lose you again

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #scream #scream 6 #fluff #jack champion

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darkscrossfire · 7 months

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𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄

PART ONE

Pairing: Dilf!Jake Sully x reader

Warnings: None for this chapter

Notes: Hiii, sorry for not posting part one for like 7 years <3 I’ve been super busy but i’m going to try and post more now that my writers block has been a bit better and I have the energy to write. Here’s part one, I hope you enjoy and let me know how it is :D

The concept of a crush was a foreign to my adolescent ears until the day it was uttered to me by the other younger Na’vi girls who suddenly became interested in the topic of boys when surveying the young men of the Omatikaya clan. The young men were preparing to leave for duty, their bodies clad in human equipment and their hands gripping human weaponry.

The girls fawned over their appearances, the way their muscles would flex when climbing upon their ikrans, their charming smiles bringing a rosy blush upon their cheeks. The girls would giggle, latching onto each other whenever one of these young soldiers would send a glance to their direction.

Yet I found myself not feeling anything for these young men, not even when they would gaze upon me with brooding eyes that spoke more than words could ever say. Their eyes trailing upon my figure and letting me know that I was now at a stage where I had become desirable. The age of seventeen had been an eye opening era. One that had made me more aware of men that I had ever been before.

All I felt was a strange discomfort and the need to step far away from wherever these sorts of men came from. I could not understand the appeal towards these immature, knuckle-headed boys. The ones who would purposefully cause fights due to their childish boredom. I did not crave their attention, I did not crave anything from them. They were far too immature for my liking.

These boys seemed to crave the more intimate things whilst I craved the deeper connection felt between several of the mates in the clan. I had seen the way they would gaze upon each other as if they were each others worlds. Their eyes unable to leave each other in fear that they would never be able to gaze upon each other again.

These young men did not crave that. Their desires did not go deeper than the surface. I had seen the way the young Na’vi girls had been heart broken, their tears staining their skin and leaving a permanent indent in their heart due to young men’s physical desire that ended the moment he received that he had wanted.

I refused to let myself be that girl. I did not want to shed tears over someone who I did not even desire truly. I had seen the way the mated pairs looked at each other and I did not want anything less.

My entire world seemed to be changed the moment I met Kiri, a soul who’s entire being seemed to be in tune with nature. The moment I saw her dancing along with the trees, I knew that I just had to be friends with her. Her deeper connection with the world around us made our friendship a powerful connection that I could not just let slip through my finger tips.

We first became friends after an incident where a viperwolf almost ripped my head off after I had fallen three branches from the home tree. It’s fangs were bared and it’s eyes bore into mine, it’s being aching to tear into mine. I could not defend myself for I was surrounded by mere sticks and leaves. I anticipated it to be the moment I died, but the sight of an arrow and a soft whimper escaping it’s jaws as the arrow pierced through its body quickly brought me back to reality.

The teenage Omatikaya girl’s figure hopped down from the branches to mine, where she stuck a hand out. The first thing I had noticed about her was her humanoid features, as if she were not fully Na’vi. Her hair was styled differently than those of other Na’vi I had met and her facial features were not quite completely Na’vi.

It wasn’t until later that I learned about her mother Grace and that she had been adopted by the Sully family. She was intriguing, her soul connection to nature made her someone I knew I immediately wanted to befriend. Her spunky attitude and care for her brothers was admirable, she was someone I envied.

We mourned the loss of the viperwolf but we knew it was either my life or his. The return to the home tree was filled with light hearted conversation and a quick forming friendship. She offered for us to spend more time together the following day where her and her family were all going on a hunting trip through the great forest. I had not been familiar with her family, which consisted of her two brothers, her younger sister and her father. I had not pried into what happened to her mother.

That following day I had not expected too much of the oncoming encounter with her family. I had met her brother first after she had run into him. His name was Lo’ak and was annoyed by her presence, seemingly trying to talk to another Na’vi girl when Kiri had interrupted their conversation. He didn’t say much to me, giving me a simple nod in acknowledgement before trailing after the girl again.

Her brother Neteyam had greeted me with a large smile, introducing himself before introducing his younger sister Tuk who also greeted me with a wide smile.

It wasn’t until I was faced with her cheek-reddening father, that I finally knew what a crush was.

He had stepped out from behind the leaves, his voice calling out for his family. The moment I saw him, an unexplainable redness bloomed in my cheeks, a warmth spreading across my face that was impossible to hide. The way he carried himself was noticeable. His whole demeanor spoke power and strength, a kind of strength I hadn’t seen from any of the young soldiers upon their ikrans.

When his eyes caught mine, a charming smile spread across his face and he spoke in the most ear-pleasing voice that has ever graced my ears. “Oh hey, you’re Kiri’s friend. Y/n right?” He asked, to which all I could muster was a simple nod and hum. “I’m Kiri’s father, but you can call me Jake.”

It took me a moment to register his outstretched hand which was beckoning to shake mine and I let out a soft noise before placing my hand in his, the size of his hand compared to mine an immediately noticeable difference. His touch was warm and his grip was strong. I gave him an small, slightly awkward smile in return, trying to hide the crimson stains across my cheeks.

“You okay?” He asked, pulling his hand away before motioning to his own face and across his cheeks with his finger. “You’re a little red.”

“Oh?- yeah, i’m okay.” I quickly said, pulling my gaze away from him to ensure that my blush wasn’t any more obvious, though I could feel his gaze piercing into the side of my face, emitting a soft chuckle as it lingered for a moment before he turned away and it felt like he had stepped off of my chest.

It did not help that I was already plunged into my late teenage years where my emotions seemed to be dictating my every single thought. I could not tell if I actually desired him or if I just desired to want someone, anyone who somewhat fit my tastes.

The Sully’s were all holding their bows in almost defensive stances and I felt like I knew nothing compared to them. Jake Sully had seemingly trained them very well, as if he was born from combat. I held the bow given to me by Neteyam with uncertainty, my grip uncomfortable and my stance stiff. My entire body was not used to this. I had never been taught to hunt or fight by my mother. She did not want me out fighting the sky people.

I glanced down at the bow, adjusting my fingers and loosely holding the arrow, feeling as though it were about to slip from my grasp at any moment. I softly furrow my brows but try to ignore my faults, telling myself I won’t be hunting anyways, I would just leave it to the Sully family and their expertise. I knew that wouldn’t be the case when I felt Jakes eyes watching me intently, his eyes trained on my unsteady hold on the bow.

“Oh no, sweet girl. You hold it like that and you’re not gonna hit anything.” Jake said with a soft chuckle, making his way over to me where he gently pried the bow from my hands and positioned it correctly in his hands to show me how to hold it.

He leaned down slightly as he spoke, “See? You gotta hold it like this so your aim is accurate. You hold it the way you did before and you’re aiming straight for the dirt.”

I give a soft nod even though my attention is squarely focused on him rather than on the actual demonstration. My eyes are trained on his face and I realized it became obvious when Jakes eyes shifted to mine and he softly furrowed his brows, a light expression across his face as he asks in amusement. “You paying attention?”

My eyes widen slightly and I quickly nod, turning my attention to the bow, watching it as if it was the most important item in the world. I knew I was screwed when he handed it to me and looked at me expectantly, waiting to see me hold it the way he showed. I hesitantly took it back, placing it in my grasp and trying to grab at the bits I had somewhat seen from his demonstration, yet I knew I wasn’t holding it right.

Jake let’s out a soft chuckle, gently shaking his head before murmuring, “Like this..”

The feel of his body moving behind mine, his hands placing on top of mine before readjusting the stance has a warm blush rushing to my cheeks. His hands are warm, so is the rest of his body. I can feel it radiating from his presence. His hands enveloped mine as he lifted my arms to demonstrate shooting, his mouth hovering next to my ear as he whispers, “Just like that..”

My limbs felt like they were going to fall off. Is this what every girl feels when she has a crush?

It was later on that trip after Jake had successfully hunted an creature we had come across that I couldn’t find my eyes able to pull away from him. I couldn’t help but compare him to the young men who the girls fawned over. They all seemed to meek and immature in comparison to him. The way Jake handled the creature showed a great physical strength within him.

Finding out that Jake had not always been Na’vi came very unexpected. He seems to be so one with the people and Pandora that you would think he was born in the clan. He was possibly even closer with the Omatikaya than I was. I had heard stories of his great deeds, the way he protected our people from the sky people.

I had been weaving with him and Kiri in their home, Kiri had just left to grab some more supplies, when he spoke out of the blue, “You know, I used to be part of the sky people.”

I looked at him with great confusion, not quite understanding what he meant, immediately thinking he had worked with them as a born Na’vi. He read the confusion across my face and immediately elaborated. “I used to be a sky person, a human. I didn’t expect to grow so fond of the Omatikaya people.. but after I met Neytiri, I couldn’t let them get hurt.” He set his basket down on the floor, turning his full attention towards me.

I lowered the basket in my hands, placing it in my lap as I kept my legs crossed. I thought for a moment before asking, “What was your life like?”

He let out a soft laugh, one that sent a tingle through my stomach. It was a sound I liked hearing. “Back on Earth? Shit. The place is polluted from the air to the water, people only care about themselves, they’re greedy for money and resources- which is why we came here- and.. I couldn’t walk.” His last words were sent in an almost hesitant thought.

I furrowed my brows in confusion and he quickly answered, picking up the woven basket once more to continue weaving. “I lost control my legs in Venezuela, a country back on Earth, while serving in the United States Marine Corps. The United States is where i’m from.”

“Explains the weird accent.” I said teasingly with a soft smile, lighting the mood.

He made a mock offended face, letting out another soft chuckle as he shook his head. “I guess you’re right, I do sound pretty weird to everyone here.”

There was a moment of silence as I hesitated for a moment before softly uttering. “Do you miss Earth?”

He hesitated for a moment in turn as he took a moment to think, his mind pondering the question over before he answered. “I don’t think so. There’s a lot I liked, but there was a lot I also hated. I mean, I miss burgers, movies, dogs… but the life I have here has brought me so much more peace and happiness than I ever felt there.”

My eyebrows softly furrowed at his small list of things, not understanding what any of those are. He could see the confusion across my face and softly laughed, “I guess that all sounds meaningless to you, huh?”

I softly shrugged with a smile.

He smiled, placing his basket down once more. “Let’s see.. a burger is where you would take two pieces of bread, sort of shaped like half circles and put stuff between them, like lettuce, meat, tomatoes. You can put whatever on ‘em, but I think you have to keep the meat on there to make it a burger.”

I softly nodded, beginning to understand. “It sounds.. good.”

His smile widened, “Trust me, it was. The ones you’d get from little restaurants that no one goes to are the best, not like the ones from fast food places where they’ve been stuck in the freezer and then heated up, the ones that you can taste have been made from scratch there and then.”

I could see his look across his face as if he had finally gotten a chance to speak about his life back home, something he had not done very often. It seemed like there was so much for him to say, so many memories that were flooding back. All I could do was watch him with a soft smile on my face, adoration in my eyes as I found a great fascination in everything he had to say, even if it meant nothing to me or if I barely understood. I just liked hearing him talk.

“And.. what’s a mow-vey?” I ask.

He softly chuckled, “A movie?”

I nodded.

“Well, you know those little stories that are put on every now and then by the fire? Where they act out the tales of different warriors? A movie is like that, except instead of it being done live like that, it’s recorded and distributed. Most of the time these movies would be in rooms called theaters, where it would play on a giant screen. You’d eat food called popcorn and have sugar infested drinks like Coke or a slushee.” He uttered.

I softly nodded, “Do these movies tell stories of warriors?”

He nodded, “Yeah, sometimes… but there were also movies about love, fantasy, drama, horror, thriller and a whole bunch of other things. Don’t tell anyone this, but my personal favorite were romcoms.” He said in a teasingly hushed voice and an almost cheeky smile.

I let out a soft chuckle, “I don’t even even know what that is.”

He smiled, “Maybe one day i’d be able to show you. There’s a lot of great classics like 10 Things I Hate About You, The Notebook, Love Actually… I feel like you’d like them. They’re all movies about people falling in love, sometimes when they’re not supposed to.”

He paused for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle. “Forbidden love just seems to be the most interesting. Two people who know they shouldn’t be in love but they just can’t stay away from each other.”

I didn’t speak for a moment, my mind immediately wondering if there was a chance for something like that with us. That if it did ever happen, that there would be no way for us to be with one another the way the others do. It was unrealistic, mostly because I was sure he would never feel that way about me.

“You ever felt like that, Y/n?” He gently asked.

I held his gaze for a moment, not knowing if the way I felt about him was allowed to be mentionable. I decided to softly shake my head. He softly nodded, thinking for a moment before softly ask. “You ever had a mate?”

I had had a few opportunities now and then, but nothing ever came into fruition. Every guy I found myself getting involved with ended up being a disappointment or just ended things right as they seemed hopeful. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” He said lightly, tilting his head as if a bit amused. I softly smiled and shook my head.

His eyebrows raised, as if surprised that no one had ever made me their mate. I found myself surprised by this, wondering what he saw in me that others didn’t. A soft smile creeped upon my face as I uttered, “What?”

He softly shrugged, turning his attention away for a moment as he glanced down at the basket in his hands. “Nothing.. just surprised, is all.”

My eyebrows softly furrowed. “Why?”

He held my gaze for a moment, the expression upon his features sending a nervous shiver down my spine. He paused for a moment. He softly shrugged once more, “I thought some boy would have swept you off your feet by now. Most of the clan members are mated by your age. There has to be someone.”

I wish that I could have said that there was. That there was someone that I loved who I was going to spend my life with, but there wasn’t. The only person I wanted was him, and that entire thoughts was unrealistic and something that I should have erased from my brain. I held his gaze for a moment before softly shaking my head. His eyes which held mine displayed a certain intensity I couldn’t quite place.

Before he could utter anymore, Kiri returned, her arms filled with weaving material. She placed them down on the floor near us, letting out a small sigh as it seemed to be quite a mission to carry. I gave her a small smile.

She stepped around it, taking a seat next to me before glancing between her father and I. “I hope I didn’t leave you two in awkward silence while I was gone.”

Jake let out a soft chuckle. “You didn’t.”

Kiri’s eyebrows softly raised, as if surprised that Jake and I found a way to speak to one another in a way that wasn’t filled with silences and possibly awkward moments. She expected that her best friend and her father would find this moment alone a bit strange without her there as some sort of supporting bridge.

“Really? What’d you guys talk about?” She asked, curiosity all across her face.

Before I could speak, Jake raised and pointed towards his woven basket, as if to say that it was the only thing we spoke about. Weaving baskets.

I glanced over at him with a small look of confusion, not truly understanding why he didn’t tell her that we spoke about his life back on Earth. She definitely knew of many things about Earth, yet he seemed reluctant to tell her of everything he shared. He met my gaze but he seemed expressionless, as if it were nothing. I pulled my gaze away, not quite understanding but deciding to brush it off for now.

Kiri let out a scoff, singing out, “Boring.”

My gaze lingered back on Jake, watching the way he drew his attention back to the basket which he had now finished, placing it to the side where he grabbed more weaving materials. Our relationship suddenly felt more personal as I questioned if Kiri did know of everything he had told me. I wondered what made him decide to tell me and not her.

Perhaps it was just for us. Our little secret.

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thelov3lybookworm · 7 months

Note

Request! A Eris x Archeron!yn fic. Imagine a prythian where the high lords are not good and friendly with each other and are now planning a war over one another to take down the court next to them and rule over. Now after a LOT of convincing Autum Court and Night court are forced in a alliance between each other because of yn. Now imagine if one of them sabotages the alliance! What will happen? Who will yn choose? Will she be able to choose between her sisters and mate?

(I don't know if you write for Eris or not. If you don't and you want to write this, you change it to yn being Eris's little sister and being Azriel's mate. Or if you don't want to write this at all that's totally fine too!)

Bloodshed.

Eris week day 2, High Lord

Eris x Archeron!reader

Summary: The world is in chaos, and its not the best time to find the other half of your soul when the people you live with would trade anything to kill your mate.

But that's exactly what has happened with Y/n, and she has no idea how to save him. But maybe she could negotiate?

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: hey anon! I love the idea, Eris is one of my most loved acotar males. Soo sorry for the delay in posting this! I didn't have time to write it, and when I did, @erisweek2023 was close, so I thought why not post it then. So, here it is. I hope you like it.

First time participating in a character week, soo excited! 😆

Also make sure to check out other Eris week creations too!❣️

•○🌑○•

Today they would be meeting up with the new High Lord of the Autumn Court. An important court related meeting, as Y/n's brother in law claimed. It wouldn't have been held if not for the new High Lord's ascension to Autumn's throne.

They said it was so that they could try and be allies, but Y/n was no kid. They just wanted to meet with him so that they could find any weaknesses to exploit and get Autumn under their domain.

Since the moment the war against Hybern had ended, the High Lords had been at each others throats. A smile on the face that equalled to a sneer in the privacy of their courts.

And Y/n was sick of their games.

The inner circle was kind enough to everyone in Night Court, but the rulers had slowly and steadily become more and more power hungry, turning on people who they would have once considered friends.

Eris had once been an ally, but he was only a friend for the reason that he fed the inner circle information regarding Beron and his schemes, so he could get some help getting rid of his father in return. It had barely been a week since he became High Lord, and the night court had already started scheming to get Eris off the throne.

She knew that Night Court wasn't the only one who was planning that.

And she hated them for it.

It wasn't that she was interested whether Eris ruled Autumn Court or not, she just wanted him to... not be sad for once.

She had only had a handful of conversations with him, but she knew that he wasn't the evil person he pretended to be. She could see it in his eyes, the bruised and sad look that he always had in those beautiful amber orbs. She didn't know how no one else noticed it.

But she did. She somehow had this irrational urge to soothe him. Soothe all of his worries and comfort him, let him tell her of all that he went through. She wanted to see the man beneath the cold mask of the Autumn Court heir, now High Lord.

It was stupid, she knew, especially because the people who she lived with would probably lock her away if she so much as showed interest in him. But she couldn't help it. It was like her instincts were screaming at her to go–

A knock on her bedroom doors drew her from her thoughts. She flinched from the sudden loud noise before going to open the door. It was her younger sister.

Feyre looked at her, surveying her from head to toe before nodding. "He's here. Come." Y/n followed her towards a meeting room in Moonstone Palace. "I still don't understand why you want to be present in the meeting. It's just going to be fake smiles and Eris's disgusting personality. It's a pain in the ass, if you ask me. He's a pain in the ass. The faster he gets removed from the throne and hopefully dies, the better."

Y/n said nothing.

Y/n and Elain were twins, but Elain was soft, kind and caring, while Y/n was anything but. That didn't deter everyone from assuming she was the same as Elain. That she was naive and wouldn't understand their despicable schemes.

As they entered the meeting room where Eris and most of the inner circle were in, Y/n's heart fluttered.

But then her eyes met with his, and her heart stopped as something started to glow inside of her. He stared back at her, his lips parting.

It was like her soul was freed from a cage as she felt all the love and happiness and confusion in the world surrounding her heart. She smiled slightly, looking at the dazed look on his face.

"Well well, look who's here. I don't know why she wanted to be here, but you can't help when someone doesn't want to understand and is childish–" Rhys said, straightening from the table and sliding his hands into his pockets.

"Y/n. How are you doing?" Eris asked, glaring at Rhys.

"I'm fine. How about yourself?" Her shoulders curved inwards as her brother in law's power whipped around the room.

"I'm good. Thank you for asking."

"Is that all you wanted to ask? If so, you can leave now."

Y/n swallowed. She didn't know why Rhysand had started acting like that around her, but it scared her. He had been like an older brother to her, just like Cassian and Azriel. But one day it was like she woke up in a new world, and she did not recognise anyone. "I– I would–"

"Come Y/n." Eris pulled out the chair next to him, motioning for her to sit in it. She smiled gratefully as she settled down, while Rhysand fumed.

"What were we talking about again before we were interrupted?" Azriel questioned.

"Yes, we were trying to negotiate an alliance." Eris said calmly. But amusement shone on everyones faces as Mor and Feyre snorted. Y/n looked around confused. What was happening?

"There is going to be no negotiation on any alliance. You were very useful in eliminating your father, Eris, but looks like we have no use of you now."

Y/n stiffened, realising that this was no normal meeting. This was an ambush. "Hey, hey. Let's not get hostile." She began when she spied the Illyrians reaching for their weapons. "Why can we not become allies? It would be better–"

"Shut up." Rhysand snapped, stunning Y/n for a moment. And in that moment, a ring of raging fire surrounded Rhysand. He paled as the fire continued spreading around the room, now making a cage like structure around all the members of the inner circle.

"Do not talk to her like that. Ever again." Deadly intention dripped from every word out of Eris's mouth as he stood. She stood along with him, panic clawing up her throat. "You'll be ash before you have time to apologise."

Rhysand snarled, just before a bubble of water surrounded him. Y/n looked around, realising Feyre was the one responsible for the water bubble.

Y/n tugged on Eris's sleeve, and he slowly turned his head to look at her. She shook her head at him, her eyes pleading. He stared at her for a moment before the fire vanished.

As soon as it did, the three illyrians advanced on them. Y/n threw herself in front of Eris, clutching his hands behind her back so he wouldn't do anything reckless again. Which was stupid, as he didn't need his hands to burn the place down.

"Get away from him Y/n." Rhysand said in a deadly voice, continuing to come towards them as Cassian and Azriel pulled out their swords and daggers.

She shook her head, glancing at Feyre helplessy. "Do something!"

"Why would I? Stop acting like that Y/n, he's not a nice person. He deserves to die."

Y/n looked around, hoping someone would help her. "Feyre, I have a question for you. When you first met Rhysand, was he a nice person?"

Feyre's brows furrowed, but she answered, speaking slowly and gently as if speaking to a small child. "No, he was not a nice person. But he's my mate, and when I got to know him more, I realised he was a nice person. But Y/n, is it necessary to ask these stupid questions at this moment?"

"Yes." She turned back to Rhysand. "Please, negotiate an alliance. He's my mate."

Everything was dead silent for a minute, and everyone stared at her. Eris had managed to free his hands from her clutches, and she felt his hands wrapping around her, tugging her back.

"You shouldn't have done that." He whispered in her ear frantically. And when she thought about it, she realised how stupid it was. These people were not ones she had once known. These were bloodthirsty and greedy, and they wouldn't care for their enemy's mate, even though the mate was their family. They could also use her to force Eris to do something. Maybe even leave the throne and go into hiding.

"What did you say?" Rhysand asked, his voice low.

"Please Rhys, you know what it feels like to have a mate. Please don't do this." She glanced at the other Illyrians, who had stopped just behind Rhys.

"You are going to go with him?"

"Yes. I–I want to."

"The bond is clouding your judgement."

"No it is not, I swear."

Rhys glanced at Feyre, conversing mind to mind before sighing. "You'll regret this Y/n, and when you realise it, you'll come back crying to us. Guess we won't have any fun today then."

"Really?"

"Hmm. Well, get back to the table. We'll have to negotiate a stupid alliance then."

•○🌑○•

That had been months ago, and now Autumn Court was safe. At least for the time being.

She continued staring out the window, drinking her monthly contraceptive tea. She and Eris had accepted the bond within one month of the alliance being made, and for the next month, it had been as if they had been wiped of the face of Prythian.

She blushed, thinking of that month. It wasn't as if it didn't still feel like they were in a mating frenzy though. No, Eris would grab her whenever he got one moment of peace. But back then? He had her for himself, uninterrupted most of the time. Any work he had, he would do when she rested. Writing letters to reading reports, keeping tabs on the training of soldiers to the current favourite food of his people, that male did everything, all the while making sure to give her time as well.

And if there was only one thing she knew, it was that she didnt regret her decision. She never would.

She sighed, moving to take a sip from her tea when two strong arms wrapped around her torso. Without a moments hesitation and without realising what she was doing, she relaxed back into the body of her mate.

Her amazing, perfect mate.

As soon as she relaxed, she felt warmth rushing through the bond, a tint of glee and surprise mixed with the love.

"Good morning love." Eris whispered–his voice raspy and clouded with sleep– againt her hair before burying his head in the crook of her neck. She tilted her head back and to the side to give him more space.

"Good morning handsome."

She felt him smile against her, nipping at her. He lifted his head a little so his cheek rested against her.

"What are you drinking?"

"My monthly contraceptive tea."

"That's great."

"I feel like there's more you want to say." She muttered, caressing his arm. She turned to him and he rested his forehead against her.

"Is the tea hot?"

Her brows furrowed. "No, not really. It was brought in quite some time ago. Why?"

"Then finish it up quickly darling."

"Why?" She smirked. She knew why, she just wanted to hear him say it.

"You know why."

"Do I though?" She sipped from the almost finished cup teasingly.

"Hmm. Guess I'll just show you why then."

His eyes twinkled, and she couldn't hold back anymore. So she gulped down the tea in one go before pouncing on him.

•○🌑○•

She stared at herself in the mirror, running her fingers over her deep red gown's neckline.

She and her mate, the High Lord and Lady of Autumn Court, had been invited to the Night Court. They hadn't been provided with a specific reason why the celebration was being held, they just were invited.

Whatever the reason, there was a pit of dread forming in her stomach.

The door creaked open to her chambers and her mate poked his head in. When she turned to look at him, she found his mouth slightly parted, as if he was about to say something.

But then he stepped in, closing the door behind him. He whistled lowly as he walked towards her. "Give me a twirl pretty girl."

She smiled and did exactly that. He whistled flirtatiously, eyeing her body before meeting her eyes. "Would you look at that. Perfect. Absolutely gorgeous."

She blushed like a schoolgirl at the praises spewed from her mate and husband's mouth. It didn't last long as she remembered why she had dressed up in the first place. She turned back to the mirror, a frown on her face.

Eris, of course, noticed it. Moving to stand behind her and meeting her eyes in the mirror, he hugged her from the back. "What happened darling? Is something the matter?"

She shook her head. "I'm just a little..."

"Nervous?"

"You could say that."

"We can stay here if you want. I will write to them–"

"No." She cut him off. "This would affect the alliance, especially since Rhysand and Feyre would be looking for any opportunity to launch a war."

"Then we can go to war, my heart. Your comfort comes before all else."

She smiled and turned to him. "I'm glad for that, my love. However, it is necessary that I prioritise the future of Autumn Court. What kind of High Lady would I be if I didn't care for my subjects' wellbeing?"

He smiled and kissed her cheeks. "My darling High Lady. So, are you ready?"

"Not really, but let's get this done with."

He extended his arm to her. As soon as she took it, they began to walk out the door.

But something caught her attention when she spied the guards who would accompany them today. They weren't Eris's personal guards, the ones he trusted. Y/n tugged on her mates sleeves, making him stop.

"Yes?"

She tilted her head towards the guards. "They are new. They are not your guards."

Eris nodded. "Apparently, my brothers seem to think that these guards are better suited to safeguarding us. They are old and trained, seasoned from centuries of working for my father."

As he said those words, Y/n had the feeling that he was also questioning the reason these males were coming with them.

He still didn't trust his brothers, and, despite his advisors telling him to get rid of them, he didn't. He wouldn't, not unless they gave him a reason to.

The pit of dread in her deepened.

She didn't have a good feeling about this.

•○🌑○•

Y/n smiled politely as she talked to her sister. Nesta. Feyre was sitting on her throne.

Her heart was hammering in her ear, and she had become more and more panicked than when she started the evening. The weird feeling that something really bad was about to happen lurked about her being, and she wondered where her mate was.

She tried to look around, her breathing becoming shorter when she didnt find him anywhere in the crowded hall.

Where the hell is he?

"Are you okay?" Nesta gave her an assessing look, her eyes all seeing.

Y/n nodded. "It's just, I've never been away from Eris for long periods of time since before we were mated. Especially in crowded areas. And you know how I hate crowds. And I have also been feeling nauseated since the evening. I'm sure it's nothing..."

She realised she was rambling and Nesta probably wasn't interested in Y/n's wellbeing. So she shut herself up and again looked around, tugging on the bond.

In an instant, Eris's arm was around her waist and he smiled down at her.

"My heart?"

Relief spread through her as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. "Eris."

"Are you alright?"

She shook her head against him. "Too crowded. Too many people. And you weren't near..." She mumbled.

"Oh my darling, I am so sorry I left you alone. But I am here now. You want to go somewhere less crowded?"

She hummed against his warm skin, already calming.

"Come." He said, pulling away from her and turning to the doors. That was when Y/n noticed Rhysand and Cassian standing next to Nesta, eyeing the couple. She swallowed when Rhysand met her eyes before looking away from her in disgust.

It was obvious he would be disgusted, after all she had chosen the enemy over her own family.

She bowed her head, her insecurities rising again after months, and followed Eris to a secluded alcove nearby.

She kept her head lowered, wondering if her family hated her, but then she felt Eris's hand on her chin, and all her worries started ebbing away.

"Hey." He whispered softly, giving her a small smile. "Are you alright?"

"I... don't know."

"It's okay. Talk to me."

"I–I don't know why but... I'm feeling... weird? Like, since the moment we left for here, I've had this feeling that something is about to go wrong and–" her chest heaved and she pressed herself against him, needing his warmth to keep her in the present.

"Hey, hey, nothing is going to go wrong. Don't worry my heart, everything will be fine."

He kissed her head, smoothing his hand down her hair as he murmured sweet nothings onto the top of her head.

A few moments later, she finally calmed. But the dread was still there, like an unwanted guest who refused to leave.

Y/n looked up at her mate, her beautiful, amazing mate. He smiled down at her.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better. But still Eris, what if something happens?"

He shook his head. "If something happens, I'll be there to handle it."

She sighed. "I know I sound stupid and stubborn–"

"No you don't. It's just your instincts, and there is nothing wrong with feeling that way. We'll be more careful of what is going on around us, and nothing will happen. I promise."

She smiled at him. This was why she loved him.

Before she had left with him, her family always found ways to make her doubt herself. If she suggested an idea, they would look down on it, saying she should stay quiet when she knew nothing about the matter. She had become extremely insecure about herself since then, and tried to stay quiet all the time.

Eris made her realise her worth and brought her back from the dark pit she had descended into.

"I love you." She whispered.

"I love you more, my heart."

As soon as they left the alcove, the were faced with the whole of inner circle staring them down, as if they had been waiting to pounce on her and her mate. Even Feyre and Mor were there.

Her grip tightened on Eris's hand, and he squeezed back.

"Feyre." She smiled tentatively, wondering if it was the right thing to do.

"Y/n." Feyre nodded stiffly. "Would you like to come with us? We wanted to talk to you, catch up on the events of the past months. See how things were going in the Autumn Court. Just us ladies." Y/n glanced at Eris. He eyed the females, namely Feyre, Nesta and Mor. "Don't worry about him. He'll be occupied with the males. Right Eris?"

She didn't want to go. The only place she wanted to go to was back home. "Um I..."

Everyone's eyes seemed to narrow on her mate, who said nothing.

"Is something the matter?"

She shook her head. "I just don't feel well. I... guess I'll come with you."

The females of the inner circle led her away, out the court room, up a staircase.

By the time they reached the landing of the fourth floor, Y/n's chest was heaving. "Where are we going?"

The three ladies looked at each other before Nesta sighed. "Look, we wanted to talk to you away from him. There isn't a particular place we had in mind."

Immediately, Y/n's blood chilled. She looked around. "What are you trying to say? What did you want to talk about?"

"Y/n... look, the bond seems to be clouding your judgement. He is not the male you think he is. He is manipulating–" Feyre started.

Y/n heaved a sigh. "He. Is. Not. Neither is the bond clouding my judgement."

"You wouldn't realise even if he was manipulating you. So, please let me in your mind. If the bond isn't clouding your mind and he isnt manipulating you, then we will satisfied."

" I married him of my own free will. How many times do I have to say that to get you to fucking understand?"

Silence descended. Unfortunately, it was only for a moment. "Did you– did you just curse?"

Y/n laughed, tired of their presumptions about her. "Why is that so shocking? Hmm? Is it because Elain never curses?" Mor opened her mouth, but Y/n didn't give anyone a chance to speak. "You don't even know what kind of a person I am. You just assumed that because I am Elain's twin, I'll have a similar personality as hers. You never bothered to ask me about my thoughts, always thinking that I was some naive little girl who knew nothing of what she was talking about."

"I– we never–"

"Yeah Feyre, you never."

Before she, or anyone, for that matter, could say or do anything, a scream sounded from below, followed by more.

Y/n turned to look down the stairs through the small opening over the railing. Her sisters and Mor did the same.

There was nothing noticeable accept the red glow on the walls on the bottom most floor.

Her heart picked up again, sweat coating her hands.

The screams got louder, and the glow became more evident as the moments passed.

When she felt a tug on the bond and a pulse of panic from Eris's side, it clicked.

Fire.

This place was on fire.

Shit.

The sound of clanking armor and the soldiers scrambling up the staircase made the the four females draw back from the railings edge. The soldiers made a ring formation around the three females of the inner circle, a few soldiers advancing on Y/n.

She looked at them confused.

It was Nesta who screeched when a soldier raised his sword. "What the hell do you think you are doing! She is our sister, stop advancing on her!"

"Ordered by the High Lord. Catch the enemy. The traitor and his wife."

"She is not the enemy! She is my sister!" Nesta cried out, trying to push her way through the protective circle while Y/n tried to find a way out. She was now pressed against the wall opposite the railing, and she ran her hands against the wall for something to protect herself with.

"That was why she was so nervous. And why she didnt want to come with us. She wanted to get away before the fire started." Feyre's eyes were wide and she pointed an accusing finger in Y/n's direction.

"Why– how can you even think that?! Eris would never do such a thing! I would never–"

"No one is ever going to trust you! Especially when you are a ruler of autumn Court. You married a manipulator, a monster. What are the odds that you haven't become the same in his company?"

"Feyre! Watch your tongue!" Nesta yelled, her eyes pleading. She turned to Y/n. "Tell her it's not true. Tell her you weren't the one who orchestrated this. Tell her!"

As soon as Y/n opened her mouth, her hand closed around something. A rod?

She didn't care, as long as she could use it to defend herself.

She pulled it in front of her, holding it like a sword. And then, just the way Eris had taught her, she leapt forwards, the black iron rod clutched tight in her hands.

The guards were not expecting it, and so the first one was disarmed quickly. She dropped her weapon in favour of picking the sword of the disarmed soldier, who then pulled out another sword hanging down his back and began charging at her.

She tried to hold him off while Nesta did her best to try and stop the males from cornering her.

But it wasn't enough. And there was only one way to stop them.

And she did what was needed.

She didn't care for her life as much as she did for Eris and the pain that he wpuld go through if he lost her. That, and the Autumn Court.

She raised the sword, and in one long, clean strike, severed the head of the closest guard. It stopped others from advancing, at least for a moment.

Y/n tugged on the bond once, but his side seemed to be closed off.

"The High Lord said she didn’t know how to fight." One of the guards said.

"She didn't. Unless, her bastard of a husband taught her." Mor stared at her in disdain.

"What are you waiting for?! Get her!" Feyre ordered, and at once the guards moved.

And so began the killing spree.

•○🌑○•

Eris's pov.

He cut through the men trying to ambush him as he tried to get to his mate. They had taken her somewhere away from him, the reason being unknown but he had an inkling.

So they could convince her to abandon him.

He had been panicked when he realised what was going on. The fire had been started by the men he had brought with him because of his brothers.

Those bastards. He was going to rip them apart when he found them. But that would happen if he was able to escape this hell hole. And for that, he needed to find his wife.

He had known that maybe her sisters were trying to persuade her into leaving him, and selfishly he had wished that she wouldn't leave him. But when the fire started, he realised that she probably would think that he was the one who orchestrated it.

So he had closed off the bond, giving her free will to leave him if she wanted without knowing what he felt. Because, knowing his wife, if she knew he was sad, she'd go to extreme lengths to make him happy. And that would mean staying with him even if she didn't want to.

And he knew he didn't deserve her anyway. She was too good for a bastard like him. It was only a matter of when, not if, she left him.

Just as he reached the staircase, his body locked up.

There she was, running down the stairs, holding her tattered gown in one hand and a bloody sword in another.

He didn't blink, couldn't, as he watched her cut down the men standing in her way.

He watched, fascinated, as she looked up from the male she was currently decapitating.

Her features relaxed, and she hurried down towards him.

The wall he had put up on his side of the bond wasn't strong enough to hold off the flood of relief from her side.

He almost went to his knees before his wife, his goddess. One he had done nothing to be blessed with.

When she was within arms length, she let go of her gown and threw herself at him. He stumbled back, but didn't let go of her.

"Oh mother! Are you okay?!" She questioned, pulling back and running her hands over his shoulder and torso, looking for injuries, all while he stood there staring at her like an idiot.

When he didn't reply, she looked up and snapped her fingers in his face.

That finally got him moving. "I'm fine. But I feel like I should be the one asking that. You look like you've just walked through a blood pond."

At that, she laughed. "We should leave before someone catches us. Come." She began tugging her away, but he held his ground.

"You– you still want to come with me?"

Her brows furrowed. "What do you mean? Why would I not want that?"

Eris didn't know how to respond. Thankfully, she knew him too well by now and knew what he was thinking.

She stepped closer, bringing a hand up to his jaw, searching his eyes. "Eris," she began softly. "I. Love. You. And I want to be with you. I'll never leave you, even if you beg me to. I'll forever haunt you."

He huffed out a laugh and she smiled.

"They were trying to persuade you to leave me, weren't they?"

Y/n nodded. "They can try."

"I could've been the one to start the fire." He pointed out, and the selfish part of him screamed in outrage.

"We're pretty sure it was him." Rhys spoke from behind Eris. He glanced back stiffly, finding the whole inner circle present.

But Y/n ignored him.

She only spoke to Eris.

"And? Your point being? I don't care if you were the one who started the fire. All I care for is you. Us. I wish you could get that through your thick skull."

She murmured before rising up on her toes and capturing his lips.

When she pulled away, Feyre spoke up. "Y/n, because you are family, we'll give you one chance. Come back to us, and you'll be safe. Go with him, and we'll destroy you along with Autumn Court."

"That's all you do, isn't it Feyre? Destroy courts for petty reasons. First Spring, and now Autumn. Do you ever stop?"

"Watch your tongue Y/n." Rhys snarled.

But it was all a ruse on Y/n's part, because suddenly, the wards were broken, and Eris felt his mate's hand in his, tugging urgently.

So he did as she wanted him to. Winnowed her away.

•○🌑○•

As soon as they appeared in a forest near Autumn Court's border, Y/n turned away and heaved the contents of her stomach on the grass. Eris held back her hair and rubbed her back before she collapsed on the grass.

After a few moments of silence, she started laughing. Eris looked at her incredulously, but her laughter was contagious, and so he followed her, lying next to her on the grass and laughing.

"Aren't you a clever little fox. That was amazing." He muttered when their laughter had fied down. He brushed his fingers against hers, feeling a smile lifting the corners of his lips.

"The bloodshed?"

"The breaking of wards. The bloodshed too."

She hummed happily. After a pause, she turned to Eris.

"I know it wasn't you Eris."

He didn't have to agrre to that, so he didn't. "There will be a war." He mumbled.

She nodded. "I know."

"You should have stayed back. With them."

"I would never do that."

"You could die here–"

"And I could also die there. At least if I die here, I'd have died for something good. And I dont care if I die."

His throat clogged. He just whispered one word.

"Why?"

She smiled, resting her head on his chest.

"Because I love you, you dumbass. We'll get through this together."

He nodded, even though she could not see.

"Together."

•○🌑○•

General taglist: @eos-princess @bubybubsters @nightless

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transhuman-priestess · 7 months

Text

A High Place in El-Bariyah

The crew of the Huntington grieves the loss of one of their own, while a malevolent force in a distant corner of the solar system forges its newest weapon.

The highly anticipated continuation of The New Flesh is here.

This story contains graphic violence, sexual content, depictions of surgery, brainwashing, identity death, dismemberment, implied rape, abusive parents, firearms, anti-queer slurs, and healthily moderated but melancholy consumption of alcohol.

As always, this story is for adults 18 years of age or older, it's also the third in an ongoing series. Get caught up before you read it!

Chapter 1: The New Flesh Chapter 2: The Third Law

Remember, if you like it, reblog it, and tell me what you liked! I thrive on feedback and shares. I write this stuff for the joy of sharing it with others. Your reblog puts validation directly into my gay little soul.

January 24, 2253 1800 Earth UTC

The Hildas, 530 million kilometers from Jupiter

7 hours. It had been 7 hours since the Huntington had escaped her assailants, and Chester Silvera, First Mate, hadn’t seen the Captain in 6.

He’d just gotten out of the shower. The entire crew was in shock. Most of them had served with Jenna Powell for years. She was their friend, and despite the frequent clashes between her and Holder, Silvera knew that the crew respected and liked both of them.

Silvera surveyed his quarters, a moderately-sized suite of around 20 square meters, containing a modest bed, a small galley, a lavatory, and the shower he had just vacated. The Huntington’s crew accommodations were far from palatial, but they were home.

Chester walked to his dresser, donned a black band T-shirt (The Carowells, Jovian Tour 2250), khaki shorts, and sneakers. He grabbed his portable radio off the table, clipped the handset to his belt and the remote mic to his collar. It chirped reassuringly as he turned it on.

Keying the mic he said, “This is Silvera, anyone seen the Captain?”

A moment later, Jill Campbell’s voice crackled to life on the speaker. “Door logs say she’s still in her quarters. Her radio’s off, want me to ring her?”

“No, I’ll just walk right over, thank you.”

“No problem.”

He opened the door to the hallway outside. The corridor was well-lit, and lined with short-pile navy blue carpet and fake-wood-grained wall paneling that had probably been quite fashionable 20 years ago, but now gave the ship a hopelessly outdated look. Chester actually quite liked it. The old girl was past her prime, but she had a sense of style, and you had to admire her for that.

Holder’s quarters were 10 meters down the hall, on the same side as Silvera’s, adjacent to the bridge entrance. Between their rooms was a corridor that led to the now-vacated Engineer’s quarters, the mess hall, the rec room, and the crew dormitories. As he passed the hallway, Silvera caught a glimpse of Powell’s door. It was closed, and unadorned. He thought about peering inside, but decided that wasn’t his place, and instead he continued to Holder’s room.

Silvera knocked a syncopated pattern on the Captain’s door, and was greeted with a dull, “Enter.”

He turned the knob and swung the door open to reveal the darkened bedroom beyond. A window faced out towards space, looking aft over the ore holds. The #3 bay was still open, its massive door blocking the view of the engines’ yellow-white exhaust plumes.

The captain was lying in her bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. She hadn’t shaved her face yet today, and her stubble was creeping in. Silvera never liked to say anything, but he always thought it gave Holder a dashing, roguish look. Right now though, she just looked exhausted.

“Can’t sleep?” Silvera asked, casually, as if this were a normal cruise under normal circumstances, and he had not a care in the solar system.

Holder just lay there, still staring at the ceiling. Silvera waited for her response. When none came, he asked, “Mind if I come in?”

“Sure,” was all she said.

He turned the lights on to their lowest setting and closed the door behind him. This was the first time he’d managed to get a good look at the captain’s quarters. She hadn’t yet put up any decorations, but she had managed to situate a small bookshelf, her favorite armchair, and a small table that currently held a laptop terminal.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Silvera joked, “Feels just like home.”

“Chester,” said Holder, without looking at him, “can you fucking not right now?”

Silvera smiled, though Holder didn’t see that. He knew his captain, and he knew he had to get her on her feet to keep her out of trouble. Holder was a problem-solver. She needed dirt on the tires and grease on her hands or she got restless. With the ship moving and no burn scheduled for another 10 days, Silvera had to become that problem.

“Terry, the crew needs to hear something from you,” he said, “They’ve just been through hell. They’ve lost a friend. Now they need a leader.”

“Some fucking leader.” was Holder’s bitter reply.

“You can’t be everywhere at once,” he said, “It’s not your fault Powell didn’t put the tether on.”

“Tell that to the court martial.” the captain said, rolling to face away from him.

“I will,” he said, “and so will the rest of the crew.”

Holder sat up and looked at him, “Are you sure about that? They knew her for years. They met me last month. You don’t have to be a physicist to figure that one out, Chester.”

“The crew will stand by their captain.”

Holder stood now, apparently she’d lay down to sleep in her blue khaki work uniform, “Why? Why will they stand by me? I got Powell killed, Chester. She is dead, because, I fucked up.”

“And how did you do that, hmm?” he asked, “By not breathing down her neck and by treating her like a responsible member of the crew?”

“Chester,” Holder’s voice got louder and she began pacing, “You just told me, right before all of this,” she waved her hands in front of her for emphasis, “that I had to drop my grudge against her. That we’d been butting heads for a month and that I was too hard on her.”

“Terry,” Silvera kept his voice even, “you are not the first Captain to lose a crew member to that crew member’s carelessness.”

“Her carelessness?” Holder said, incredulous, “Chester, I am the Captain, everything on the Huntington is my responsibility, the cargo, the safety of the crew, the integrity of the ship, everything!”

“You are one person.” Silvera could feel his fist clenching

“Who is tasked with maintaining discipline and order,” Holder shot back, “I failed in both. Jenna Powell is dead because I couldn’t control her,” Silvera thought he saw tears in her eyes, “I should have supervised the EVA, I should have checked the suit inventory,” she was shouting now, “I should have turned back and looked for her!”

“And gotten yourself and the rest of the crew killed?”, it was Silvera’s turn to shout now, “With all due respect, shut the fuck up, Theresa!”

Holder was momentarily speechless, incandescent with rage. Finally, she found her voice. “If you ever speak that way to me again, Silvera, I will personally make sure you’re-”

“Yes, yes,” he cut her off, tired of the show, “you’ll personally make sure I’m cleaning out waste reprocessors on Io until I’m old and gray, I’ve heard it before.”

“What is your problem?”

“You! This!” was his response, “Your crew just suffered a trauma and you’re sitting in here feeling sorry for yourself like some first-year cadet when you should be out there, tending to your crew as a captain should.” Holder collapsed into a sitting position on the bed and buried her face in her hands, muttering something Silvera couldn’t quite hear.

“What was that?” Silvera asked.

“I said,” Holder brought her hands away from her face, and Silvera could see the tears lining her cheeks, “That they deserve a better captain than me.”

Chester Silvera had been friends with Holder for half a decade. They’d met on a cargo hauler, the Venture, where Silvera had an engine technician. She’d stayed up helping him study for his command examine, and he’d been her first mate ever since he’d gotten his commission.

“Terry,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “I have served under,” he counted in his head, “4 captains, including you. Now, maybe it’s just my incredibly wise influence,” he paused briefly, and Holder cracked a tiny smile, “but I would say that you are, by far, the best.”

“Yeah, well, that’s just, like, your opinion, man.” Holder said, bashfully.

“I wasn’t finished,” Silvera continued, “I’ve never had a truly bad captain, but the ones who’ve impressed me the most have never been the ones that put on a stone face and hide behind their command. The best captains are always those who suffer alongside the crew, who laugh and cry with them. You need to be out there. They don’t need you to be their rock, they need you to be beside them in the flotsam while they’re adrift, so that when someone spots land, you can lead them back to it.”

They sat in silence for a long moment. Finally, Holder grabbed her radio, keyed it, and said, “This is the captain. We’ve had a bad day, probably the worst any of us has ever had. Let’s all meet in the mess hall at 1930. Drinks on me.”

* * *

Time Unknown

Location Unknown

Jenna wasn’t sure if she was in hell yet. She couldn’t possibly be alive in this state. Every signal her body sent was telling her that she should be dead. Her face felt like it was still on fire, her shoulder was in pieces, and she was pretty sure her rib cage was caved in, too. Every breath was agony. She had long since stopped trying to move any part of her body. Even with concerted effort at stillness, though, new pains danced and bloomed throughout her.

Time was behaving strangely, too. She was dizzy, like she’d had too much to drink. Her stomach felt like it was being twisted on an auger. Through the haze of it all, in the back of her engineer’s brain, she knew that if she wasn’t dead yet, she soon would be. She’d taken at least 50 grays of hard fusion radiation. By all accounts, she should have been dead by now.

And yet, she lived. The thing—for that was all that Jenna could call it—that had taken her from the emptiness of space had carried her over its shoulder to some kind of medical facility. It lay her on a cruel-looking steel table and cut her suit off, injecting her with a syringe of some oily substance that filled her mouth with a rusty taste she couldn’t shake. Even now, what had to be hours later, it remained.

She drifted in and out of consciousness for some time. Each time she woke, her head felt slightly clearer. After what felt like half a day, she woke and found that she could move her neck without feeling the crunching of bones beneath it. How long have I been out?

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than a wave of intense nausea swept over her. Though the pain had dulled slightly, it still felt as if she might shatter when she reflexively rolled onto her side, and wretched. Nothing came out. She braced herself with her right arm and was surprised to find that she could bear weight on it. She marveled at this only a moment before another convulsion gripped her stomach. This time, she threw up. The room was dimly lit with a warm light, but even the yellow glow could not hide the contents of her stomach as it spilled onto the floor.

Blood. Lots of blood. Some clotted, some not. Some was bright red and some was nearly black. Jenna heaved again. More vomit, more blood. Her engineer’s brain chimed in again. Sodium-24.

The deuterium-tritium fusion that drove the Huntington’s main engines took two hydrogen atoms, one with an extra neutron, the other with two, and smashed them together to form helium and heat. The helium atoms, technically they were alpha particles, were of little harm to the human body normally, though the sheer quantity of them in fusion exhaust posed a danger. The real problem, however, was the neutrons produced as a byproduct. It was them, she knew, that would seal her fate.

It was the sort of thing that had captured her imagination as a young boy in Dublin. A particle so small and nonreactive that it could pass right through solid objects. Except sometimes, it didn’t. Sometimes, the neutron would hit an atom’s nucleus square-on, and stick there. The nucleus would become unstable, rippling like a drop of water falling from a cloud, and then it would break apart. Do this to the right substances, and you could generate power, build a bomb, trace the flow of blood through the human brain. Do it to the wrong substances, the ones that made up your body, and you became a bomb in slow-motion, destroying yourself, unable to prevent your own demise.

Much of the sodium in her body had absorbed neutrons, changing from stable sodium-23 to radioactive sodium-24. While fusion exhaust had neutrons and alpha particles, both of which penetrated relatively little, sodium-24 emitted gamma rays, and those gamma rays could pass through almost anything short of lead, including the human body. As they did, they stripped the ends off her chromosomes, shredding her DNA and leaving her cells unable to replicate themselves properly. The result was that she was dissolving. As the fastest-dividing cells in her body reached the end of their lifespans, they died. Rather than being replaced, her organs were simply shutting down.

But it didn’t make sense. She had taken so much radiation she should have died within an hour. Why hadn’t she? She was pondering that question when the thing that had brought her to this room stepped through the door.

Jenna’s head was clearer now and she was better able to absorb the figure’s appearance. It had a human shape. Bipedal, standing about 180cm tall. The basic outline of it implied that it was, or at least, had been, female. Cybernetic prosthetics were not unheard of but this lay outside the extreme end of that. The thing’s joints were covered in layered segments of metal with a dark oxide coating, tubing ran over its limbs. The only skin that Jenna could see was its face. The face was almost human. Dark lines ran as veins underneath the skin, the lips gunmetal gray, as if the blood inside had rotted. There was hair, a short tangled mess of raven black. One of the eyes was distinctly mechanical, a bright, electric blue. The other was green, and looked natural.

“You are awake,” was all the thing said.

Jenna made a dry croaking sound as she tried to speak. After several seconds of halting attempts, she finally found her voice, “How...how am I alive?” It hurt to speak. She thought she might have burns on her larynx from inhaling fire.

“We have been able to repair your DNA to a degree,” the figure replied, “However the process is not sufficient to ensure survival. Do not be afraid. We will make you one with us.”

“Let me die.” Jenna begged.

“You have been selected to become an assimilator unit for the hive.” was the figure’s flat reply.

“It hurts.” Jenna felt tears running down her face, “Please, let me die.”

“Your body will be modified and augmented to assimilate others into drones for the hive.”

“Like…you? No...no...”

“Do not be afraid. Your body will be altered surgically and mechanically. Due to the extensive mechanical and radiation damage your body has endured, most of it will need to be replaced with a synthetic chassis.”

“No...god, please”

“You will remain conscious during this process.”

Jenna tried to scream but all that came out was a dull rasp

“You are afraid now, but you will enjoy it, soon.”

The figure placed an anesthesia mask over Jenna’s face.

“As your external tissue is so damaged,” it said, in that flat, synthetic voice, “we were unable to administer the nanites in the usual manner. Instead we have given you a 10cc intravenous infusion.”

“Please,” Jenna whimpered, “please kill me”

Her pleas fell on deaf ears, however, “Usually,” the figure continued, “The surgical procedures would have begun immediately, but the nanites needed time to stabilize your biological processes. We will now begin.”

It grabbed Jenna’s wrists with shocking strength and fixed them to cuffs on the table. She struggled and pulled and twisted, trying to break free, but she wouldn’t have been able to, even with all her strength in her. And she was so tired. Her heart had been racing since the thing had come in, and the adrenaline had worn her down. It wasn’t so much that she resigned herself to whatever happened, she just couldn’t keep up the fight anymore.

Jenna heard a hissing sound come from the mask as the figure reached beneath the table and twisted something. A sharp, sweet chemical aroma curled into her nostrils. As she inhaled, she could feel herself relax. For a moment she almost forgot about her troubles, but her engineer’s brain started sounding alarm bells. They’re drugging you. It had to be that.

“Please,” said the figure, its voice friendlier, more familiar now, “do not resist the gas.”

“I...I don’t,” she croaked out, “I don’t want this.”

“You do not know what it is you want.”

Don’t I? Jenna thought to herself, Maybe, maybe it’s right.

It was like falling into the arms of a lover after a long day at work. Warmth, softness. Jenna’s mind wandered to an encounter she’d had with a young naval officer she met at a Titan bar not that long ago. How her consort’s uniform had glided so effortlessly off as soon as Jenna’s quarters door closed. How her soft fingers had wrapped around Jenna’s cock at the same time she’d suckled at Jenna’s tits.

Jenna realized her pain had subsided greatly. She also noticed that she had an erection.

“Subject arousal maximized,” said the figure beside her. Jenna looked over her again. She was female, decidedly. Broad-shouldered, but delicate. An artisan’s body. How had Jenna failed to see the beauty there before? “Initiating neural reroute.”

The pain quickly came roaring back, different than it had been before. Before, it felt like her body was on fire. Now it felt like tiny teeth were chewing up her insides. She tried to scream but even as she opened her mouth, it subsided, a beautiful warmth replacing it. It was like falling into the softest bed after the most filling meal in the coziest house in the world.

The world took on a brighter, sharper appearance. Jenna could hear people talking, but couldn’t make out any words. Next to her, the figure spoke, “See, isn’t that better?” As she spoke, the woman ran a mechanical hand up Jenna’s leg. Jenna couldn’t help but curl her body up in pleasure. She closed her eyes and let herself fall into the pleasure.

Oh, she thought, I guess you know how to treat a girl.

We have much experience in providing pleasure. Jenna’s eyes shot open. She had heard the woman, not with her ears, but in her head.

The neural transceiver is already functioning? The woman said, You are a promising candidate.

Jenna’s engineer brain was working double-time in thick, deep mud. Neural transceiver?

Jenna could hear the voices again, more clearly now, and realized that they, too, were inside of her. Though every rational fiber of her being screamed to pull away, her curiosity overtook her, and she reached out.

It was like stepping through a door into a crowded amphitheater. Sights, sounds, smells, textures, tastes, movement all seemed to stream into her head from everywhere at once, as if she were both infinite and singular. She flew around the ship, it was smaller than the Huntington. She saw dozens of people and yet felt only one presence. Her mind flicked through them all, letters and numbers appearing with each figure before finally slowing to a stop in the room where she was. The assimilation chamber. Sigma-26 stood above her, warmth on her face. The nascent drone on the table, what had it’s name been?

Deep within Jenna’s mind, a part of her began fighting, kicking, screaming that this was wrong, that there were people out there who missed her. Jill and Karl. Iris and Phoebe. Chester Silvera and Jack Thorton. And Theresa, her captain. Holder hadn’t left Jenna out of spite, or anger. She had been doing her job. She had been trying to keep the others safe and alive.

And yet, the drone now in her head thought, she didn’t even try to save you, did she? She could have tried to scoop you into an ore bay, or given you a few more seconds to make it to the airlock. Instead, she left you out there, adrift. The hive found you. The hive took you in. The hive healed you. Shouldn’t your loyalty lie with them?

Jenna didn’t care. She knew that it wasn’t Holder’s fault. She resisted, trying to pull herself back from the warm light of the Hive. She could feel them working their way into her head. She felt the Hive push into her memories. No, not those!

She was 10, a boy in a flat in Dublin. Her mother has taken her sister, Penny, to the doctor. Her father is asleep, and she’s snuck into Penny’s room. She’s trying on Penny’s dresses when her pa walks in. She’s never seen him so angry.

She was 14, in the boys’ locker room at school. Everyone is showering but she can’t bring herself to take off her shirt. 3 of the other boys corner her. She hides the bruises from her parents.

She was 20, a student at University College Cork, sitting in a doctor’s office. The doctor is writing her a prescription for estrogen. He seems uncomfortable, but says nothing.

She was 21, seeing her family for the first time since starting hormones. Her mother opens the door. She’s confused, but polite. Her father sees her and screams to get out of his house, that he won’t have a faggot for a son. She leaves. It’s the last time she sees her family.

She was 27, on shore leave at Olympus Station, orbiting Mars. She’s leaving a bar, alone, again. After a few minutes of walking, someone hits her hard in the back of the head, knocking her to the ground. The man shoves a chrome handgun in her mouth and says if she makes any sound he’ll blow her tranny brains all over the decking. She thinks about her mother.

She was 28, assigned to MV Huntington, her first posting as chief engineer. The crew are kind to her, but none seek her out. She never grows close to any of them.

She was 30, her new captain wears a nickel-plated .45 on her hip. Jenna’s heart races and suddenly she’s back on Olympus. She runs to her quarters and vomits. The new First Mate knocks on her door. She opens it with tears running down her cheeks. He asks her what’s wrong. She cries for 10 minutes before she can say a word. When she finally speaks, she begs him not to tell the captain. He promises he won’t.

She’s 30. Her face is burning, she’s floating through an abyss, abandoned and alone.

Thinking back on all of these things, the last bit of Jenna Powell, the part that was fighting and screaming for her humanity, grew weary. She had never desired power, or money, or the secrets of the universe. The only thing she’d ever wanted was home. She’d never had it.

The last part of her let go of the cliff it clung to. It fell, backwards, through an infinite abyss. And where it had been, only the drone remained.

“I am a drone of the hive.” she said, “Shape me to a razor’s edge.”

* * *

1930 Earth UTC

MV Huntington mess hall

Captain Theresa Holder stood just outside the entrance to the mess hall. The crew was seated in 2 rows at the long table, nine on a side. Chester was sitting on the left side nearest the empty chair at the head.

The Captain had not told the crew to wear anything special. She didn’t like the formality, and the crew, in turn, had donned their ragtag Sunday best. Jill Campbell wore a navy blue polo. Karl Miller had tied his hair, normally past his shoulders, into a tight bun. Iris Owens was actually wearing a dress. A bright, neon-pink dress with a skull printed on the front, but a dress nonetheless.

Holder, for her part, was wearing her blue dress uniform. Deep navy wool with brass toggles, her captain’s pips on her shoulders. The Civil Navy did not award medals to be worn with dress uniforms, and so on her left breast was a patch that simply said “HOLDER” in light grey letters above the embroidered silhouette of a Shinkelobwe-class ship.

As she entered the hall, Silvera stood, “Captain on deck!” he barked. The crew stood with him. Holder stopped half a meter beyond the threshold. Funerals at sea were one of the times that regulation permitted her to wear the pistol strapped to her hip. Despite this, she made a show, while the crew watched, of removing the belt and hanging it on a hook next to the door. She pulled the pistol from its worn leather holster, and racked the slide back. She had not loaded it prior, and so manually locked it open before replacing it in the belt and turning to the crew. “At ease,” she said, and the crew sat.

She walked, not to the head of the table, but to the foot. She remained standing, and spoke.

“We are here, tonight, our number one too few,” she began, “We have lost our colleague and friend, Genevieve Powell.” She paused, she hadn’t written anything down and was struggling to remember the bits she’d thrown together in her mind as she’d shaved and showered.

“Look,” she said, dropping the air of pretense she’d held before, “Nobody comes out here expecting to die. We didn’t join a combat fleet. We didn’t sign up to be shot at or blow up troop depots or raid supply outposts. We’re miners.”

She looked around at the crew a moment before continuing, “And miners die. It’s been happening ever since humans started digging holes in the ground. Tunnel collapses, methane explosions, tidal shifts. But what happened today, that’s not something, I think, that any of us expected.

“Jenna and I didn’t exactly get along. It feels a bit ghoulish to be up here, praising her, to tell you the truth. Like I’m taking credit for something I didn’t earn. But I need you all to hear this. What happened today, it’s my responsibility. You all performed admirably in a situation that none of us was prepared for. This morning, you were asteroid miners. This evening, you’re heroes, all of you. None more so than the woman who should, by all rights, be sitting at the head of this table.”

Holder gestured in the direction of the empty place setting, “Jenna Powell died trying to get you all to safety. When you tell your friends and families about today, don’t sing praises of your captain. Heap your praise on Jenna Powell, whose loyalty and courage cannot be disputed. Chester, the bottle.”

Silvera stood, grabbing a bottle of whiskey that he had placed on the floor next to his chair. He walked towards Holder, and handed her the thick, ornate glass vessel.

Holder broke the seal and uncorked the bottle. She walked around the table, gently pouring a finger of the amber liquid into each crew member’s glass. When all had been served, she poured herself a glass, and holding it in her left hand, raised it. “To Jenna.”

“To Jenna,” the crew replied, smiles and tears all around, and drank.

After downing her glass, Holder placed it on the table and picked up the bottle. She held it high and said, again, “To Jenna.”

“To Jenna!” the crew said once more.

And with that, Captain Theresa Holder silently drained the rest of the bottle out onto the floor of the mess.

Timecode Error: Format Not Recognized

Hive Interdictor K-14

The drone lay on the table, no longer restrained. Her tired flesh would soon be discarded, replaced by metal, composite, and plastics.

Sigma-26 stood above her, “The radiation has severely damaged your body,” she said to the new drone, “your augmentations will be rather more extensive than most.”

The new drone silently confirmed receipt of this information. 26 began hooking life support tubes into the new drone’s neck. The plan was already clear in her mind. She was eager for it, eager to leave behind the flesh that had confined her and become one with the hive. To feel the electricity run through her wires and hear the thrum of motors and pumps.

26 approached, pulling down an armature from the ceiling that held a large band saw. Wordlessly, she turned it on, and began lowering it towards the new drone’s hips. The blade bit into the damaged flesh of her right leg first, right where the femur met the ball of the hip.

The new drone heard the hive through the wire, It is not clear yet how much of your body will need replacing, it said, the process will proceed in stages to ensure stability.

The blade ground through the new drone’s leg, spitting bits of meat out to the side. As it struck bone the motor bogged down slightly, and the drone felt a high-pitched vibration through her entire being. Waves of pleasure overtook her, the ecstasy of death and rebirth. The nanites in her system worked to seal off the femoral artery and other blood vessels, protecting the brain from losing its precious supply of oxygen. The external life support systems were not yet needed, but that time would come soon.

26 removed the severed limb from the table and began amputating the other leg. Another fine mist of gore sprayed out. It felt so good, the new drone felt itself grow hard as the last bit of skin was severed.

In order to assess tissue damage, the hive spoke again, we will need to access your abdominal cavity. The life support systems will take over now.

Wordlessly, 26 plunged a scalpel into the new drone’s abdomen, just above the pubic bone. She worked it around to the right hip, then back and down almost to the table. She turned then and cut upwards, under and around the lower segment of the rib cage. The new drone’s cock was nearly bursting now, and she gave in, releasing herself, firing juices all over her stomach.

When the scalpel had circumnavigated the new drone’s belly, 26 reached in just under the sternum, and peeled the skin back. It pulled and twisted and sucked, a mass of skin, fat, and muscle a few centimeters thick. It, too, was tossed aside. Another drone came in the door and retrieved the severed legs and the skin flap, whisking them away to a reprocessing terminal.

26 examined the new drone’s organs. The new drone could not see them, but could hear the hive as it wordlessly assessed the situation. The radiation damage was too severe. Her body, even with most of the skin and organs removed, was too damaged to remain.

Full submaxillial amputation necessary, the hive declared.

26 grabbed a port with several needles on the end of various bores. She gently cupped the new drone’s head in one hand, lifting it up, before gently pushing the cable in to the base of the skull. Nanites in the port flooded in, connecting themselves to nerves, building microducts to carry oxygenated blood to the brain after the next step.

When the connection was complete, 26 reached into the open abdominal cavity and began paring out organs. She started with the bladder and intestines. The new drone watched as meters of glistening tubes were removed from her. She could feel herself becoming lighter. The stomach came next, along with the pancreas. Each cut was like an orgasm in and of itself. A blast of pleasure that washed over the new drone like fire consuming kindling.

Her liver and lungs were removed. The new drone could feel her brain stem panicking, trying to force her to breathe with lungs that could not draw air. It was driving her mad, she could feel pressure building up behind her genitals again, and once more she fired off, her glistening seed spurting into the now-empty cavity.

At last, all that was left was her beating heart. It was pounding so fast, and her body was so much lighter now, that she actually thought she might be popping off the operating table under the power of its palpitations. The new drone met 26’s eyes as the latter reached for the band saw. 26 switched the tool on, its blade accelerating to full speed almost instantly. In anticipation, the new drone opened her mouth wide.

26 brought the saw down between the new drone’s jaws. It first caught her cheeks, tearing into them and spraying blood inside her mouth and out the side. She could taste it, the hot, metallic taste of her own body, the last thing she would ever taste. As the blade continued downward it met her mandible, the blade shrieking inside the new drone’s head. It passed out the back side of the bone and immediately dug into the drone’s throat. Blood spurted down it. The pleasure of it all was overwhelming. Finally, 26 angled the blade to pass up through the top of the spinal column, just below the brain stem.

As the blade exited at the end, the new drone felt her body disappear. A nuclear bomb of pleasure went off in her, her eyes rolling back in her skull. The few muscles that remained, as well as the stumps of mandible that had not yet been removed thrashed wildly, for 12 minutes and 22 seconds. When the last wave of orgasm subsided, the new drone opened her eyes.

26 was standing above her, smiling. She felt her hivemate grasp her on either side, and lift her up. It was a curious sensation. She felt so light, so free. Wordlessly, 26 strode over to a person-sized case standing in the corner of the room.

Behold, said the hive, your new form.

The mechanical body was slightly taller than the new drone’s old one. It was sturdier too, with a more muscular look. On top of the neck sat a mechanical mandible. There was no skin, that would be artificially grown over it after assembly. 26 carefully placed the new drone atop the stack, and, using a scalpel, cut away the last bits of her original jawbone.

The artificial mandible responded without command, screwing into the joint sockets on her skull and connecting artificial muscles to mechanical ones. Soon, the drone could feel small actuators gripping the blood vessels inside her and making permanent connections. 26 stood back and watched the process. Finally, she reached behind the new drone and removed the life support tube from the plug. The new drone became momentarily dizzy during the changeover, but 26 was quick to connect the body’s hookup to the port on the skull.

Step forward, came the voice of the hive.

The new drone complied. Wordlessly, she turned around, facing herself away from 26, who began fixing armor plates to the back of her skull, covering up the sensitive port. When 26 was finished, the new drone turned back to face her. She stared down at her new hands, sleek and metal. She flexed her fingers, feeling the power of them. A full diagnostic ran automatically, the results appearing in the corner of her vision, confirming all systems were functioning as designed.

“What is your designation?” 26 asked the new drone.

The new drone looked at her, and said, “I am Sigma-38, assimilator unit.”

Welcome, Sigma-38, came the voice of the hive, we will do great things together.

#ivy michaels #ivy michaels writing #dronekink #assimilation kink #cyborg girl #robot girl #empty spaces #nsft #trans nsft #nsft text #horror #roboticization #forced roboticization #roboticisation #forced roboticisation #robot fucker #hivemind #hive mind

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dpr-stay · 9 months

Text

The Power of Old Ladies | RK

Roy Kent x Reader

Warnings: I wrote this like two years ago and haven't read over it, Did anyone say OOC!?, ignore how many times i start a sentence with ‘you’, I’ve only watched season 1. also swears, lots of swears.

WC: ~2.3k

Hiya Barbies, i just wanted this out of the drafts. read warnings btdubs. not edited and not proud!!

With a sigh, you turned and opened the car door, walking down the driveway to the entrance of Meredith’s house. Meredith was friends with the lovely lady, Doris, you were hired to look after after she’d lost most of her mobility. After a number of nasty falls and spells in hospital her family had decided that she needed a carer, and you were hired.

A condition that came with your hiring was that Doris, as part of her family's efforts for her to be more social, had to spend some time per week with her friends doing whatever she wanted to. You weren’t about to object, and were more than happy to be her chauffer back and from her girl’s nights.

Well, what used to be their girls nights.

You knocked three times on the door, hearing the TV inside go from blaring to slightly-less-blaring before the door opened and there stood Roy, the unlikely, good looking, addition to the girls’ yoga nights.

He smirked as he surveyed you, leaning against the doorway and crossing his arms.

“You here to rid Doris of her good time?” He questioned loudly, a protesting uproar coming from another room in the house. You chuckled in response and stepped past him into the house.

“I could stay for a little longer I suppose.” You relented and his smirk turned more genuine as he pushed off the wall. He closed the door and started walking in the direction of all the noise.

“Is she having fun?” You asked as you followed him.

“A ball.” He replied flatly, as though referencing something you wouldn’t get. You shrugged in response as you turned the corner to see Doris on a couch surrounded by her mates, shrieking as a contestant fulfilled a task on Love Island.

“I wish I could have as good a time as them.” You sighed, shaking your head as they screamed. A scoff came from beside you.

“I could treat you to a much better time.”

It was weird, the first time Roy had opened the door to you, he was very cold, his stare penetrating deep into your soul. This was probably because of your incredibly startled reaction, you having to explain through stutters that Doris hadn’t told you that a guy was joining them.

He had merely grunted before calling for Doris, the muscles in his neck highlighted as he turned and in his arm as he clutched the doorframe. Was it really your fault for suspecting something was up when he’d turned back around to look at you? No normal guy that attractive would spend his evenings with a bunch of older ladies doing yoga and watching reality shows.

When Doris had rolled her way over to the door, you’d watched him lift her up with ease, your jaw dropping as you watched him pick up her wheelchair and lift her down the lip of the frame. He said goodbye to Doris with a gruff fondness before making eye-contact with you and grunting again.

When the door had shut, you’d taken a second to deeply breathe before turning to the smirking older lady. You didn’t know the door hadn’t been closed fully before you’d started to tease Doris for hiring a stripper. Doris had laughed, but hadn’t corrected you.

The next time he’d opened the door, his face was a bit more relaxed though it was still cold. You barely noticed the imperceptible change, only truly noticing it after he’d turned back from calling for Doris, catching you mid-stare.

He’d cleared his throat, making you drag your attention from the lines of his neck to look at his eyes, your face flushing as a knowing glint reflected in his eyes. You waited for him to say something but he remained silent for a few seconds, making you squirm a little before finally speaking.

“I’m not a stripper, by the way.” His face was pretty much devoid of motion apart from the concealed humour in his eyes. You gasped at his words, knowing he’d overheard you teasing Doris.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve just never seen you before!” You tried to excuse but he brushed you off by extending a hand.

“I’m Roy.” He said and you looked at his hand before shaking it, replying back with a smile and your name. He’d had no discernable reaction aside from the relaxing you’d mentioned earlier.

It had taken Roy a while to warm up to you, your brief interactions not exactly providing ample time to get to know someone, but he’d eventually accepted you into the fold of the women he’d slowly begun to watch reality tv with.

You’d only have time to come in and watch with them when you were early, something you had been trying to do more, if only to have more time with Roy. As you’d spend more time with Roy, his mask would slowly begin to melt and he’d start slightly teasing (at least you thought it was teasing) you, such as right now.

However, when he’d tease you, you were able to tease him back.

You turned to him, eyebrows raised after registering his words. He glanced at you from the side of his eyes.

“Oh fuck off, you know that’s not what I meant.” You grinned at his response.

“Oh do I now, Roy?” He rolled his eyes and pushed your shoulder as he passed you, reaching the couch and sitting down in front of it.

You followed and placed your hands on either of Doris’ shoulders. She squealed again, jumping as her hands came to your shoulders and you laughed.

“It’s just me, Doris dearest. How are you feeling?” You inquired, leaning forward as she turned around.

“I’m feeling like a spring chicken right now. Look at those abs!!” She cried and pointed to the TV where a young man was practically naked aside from his speedos and grinding on a palm tree. You scrunched your face as you watched. Doris turned back to you and caught your face.

“You don’t like it!?!??” She almost screamed, drawing every person in the room's attention to you. You stuttered as you tried to think of a response.

“W-well it’s just that-“

“Do you think he’s ugly!??” Was fired at you from Meredith.

“Well no-“ You started, spluttering.

“Is he too short for you?!?” Maureen shouted from her spot further down the couch

“I don’t really care-“ You grimaced.

“Do you prefer your men older?” Came calmly from Roy, silencing everyone in the room. You whipped your head to him, your eyes as wide as saucers. Then the room burst into whispers as the ladies turned to each other, still looking at you both.

He smirked from his place on the floor as he watched your bewildered expression. You schooled your expression into something less affronted and spluttered, trying to find a way to reply.

“I suppose you’ll have to find out the hard way Roy.” You said, trying to retain your composure and unfortunately aware of how weak that comeback was. The noise level of the gossipers rose at your showing.

Roy rolled his eyes at your dramatics before he scoffed and stood up, walking in front of Doris and giving her a hand up. You grabbed her wheelchair from a cupboard outside the room and guided it to the side of the couch as Roy helped lower her into it.

Soon Doris was comfortably seated and watching the rest of Love Island, and you were standing awkwardly beside Roy, both of you watching the TV. You thought for a moment before leaning sideways, invading his personal space, to begin speaking.

“I still can’t believe you spend two of your week nights watching love island and, what is it, Lust Conquers All?” He snorted at both your statement and the girls on TV shielding their eyes from a guy's poor attempt at the worm.

“I have nothing fucking better to do.” He replied monotonously and you scoffed.

“Sureee. You enjoy nothing about this.” You said sarcastically, creating a cross with your arms. He rolled his eyes and nodded.

“You know,” you smirked. “If you hate doing this so much, I could treat you to a much better night.”

This caused him to start, jerking forward before whipping his head to you. You smiled at the unusual display before he scowled.

“Don’t joke about shit like that.” He shook his head and turned back to the tv.

“I’m not joking Roy.” You replied and turned back to you. He took a minute before pausing to scrutinize your face, searching for something. After a second it was apparent he didn’t find it because he nodded.

“Sure, when’s your next free night?” You drew back shocked and he instantly went on the defense.

“I just told you to not fucking joke about this shit.” He said quietly, trying to not let the gossips hear.

“I’m not joking, I just thought you’d say no!” You defended yourself and he opened his mouth to speak.

“If you thought you were going to get rejected, why'd you even ask?” He asked, skeptically.

“You miss 100% of the chances you don’t take!!” You exclaimed, shoving your hands out in front of you in emphasis. You were met with a reception of shushes from the ladies in front of you, a sort of ceremony happening on the screen. Scrunching your face at their dramatics, you turned back to Roy who was looking at you with a flat expression. A raised eyebrow clued him in to start speaking.

“You just reminded me of someone who I’d never like to fucking think about while looking at you.” He uttered and you shook your head, disbelief covering your features. He sighed before speaking.

“Would you like to go out at some point?” He asked quietly and you immediately nodded. He sighed again, this time in relief and shot you a rare, genuine smile. That had you reeling, unused to the man expressing emotions through smiles. You normally had to decode his eyes and eyebrows.

“I’ll text you.” You said and he nodded, both of you turning back to the TV with degrees of smiles on your faces. The show played out for a bit before eventually ending, you both content to stand beside each other.

The ladies in front of you started chatting about the episode, you joining in when you had something to share and Roy occasionally lobbying insults to specific people which had the group cheering.

At some point, Doris had leaned back to give you a look which you had learnt was her ‘I’m tired, take me home’ look and you’d nodded, walking to her and making an excuse for the other women, not allowing Doris to be swayed by their attempts to get her to stay.

Roy had followed you as you wheeled Doris to the door, ignoring the increasingly dramatic ways the women were all shouting goodbye to each other over your head, instead letting an easy smile cover your face.

You’d eventually made it to the doorframe before stepping back to open the door, Roy swooping in and picking Doris and her wheelchair up before moving past you. You got a good look at his arms as he did this, the muscles straining in them.

Was this on purpose? After tonight, you weren’t quite sure.

He put Doris down on the driveway, going as far to wheel her to your car as you closed the door to Meredith’s house with a loud ‘goodbye’ that resulted in more salutations being screamed your way.

You met Roy as he walked back to the house, making eye contact with each other before he leaned in to whisper in your ear. You held your breath as you felt his exhales grazing your neck.

“You do have my number, right?” He slowly whispered and you then slowly deflated, realising you did not, in fact, have his phone number.

You shook your head and he drew back, one of his eyebrows raised. You met his look with a guilty one, your shoulder beginning to bunch up near your head in a shrug. He just shook his head before holding his hand out.

You, albeit confusedly, placed your hand in his and he sighed before hitting it away. You brought your hand to your chest, holding it as though it burned, and he muttered “Phone” before you realised what he wanted.

Whoops.

You quickly reached into your pockets and dug out your phone. After unlocking it you gave it to Roy who quickly created a contact and put his number in, handing it back to you and watching as you registered the fact that you hadn’t known his last-name til that second.

Your eyebrows furrowed. Roy Kent. Where’d you heard that before?

“Your last name is Kent. I feel like I’ve heard that somewhere before, should I know you from somewhere?” You asked after a second and his eyebrows shot up, his jaw dropping. Dam, that’s probably the most emotion you’ve seen displayed on his face, even more than the smile he had earlier. You were winning tonight.

He blinked for a second, rearing his back before continuing to blink as though he was confused. He eventually shook his head and coughed.

“Uhm, no?” He said and you nodded. Oh well, must’ve been someone else.

“Oh. Well, I’ll text you about when I'm free.” You finally said and Roy nodded slowly before clearing his throat again.

“Yeah, sounds good.” He spoke in his low voice and you nodded, turned around, and began to load Doris in the car. Roy stood watching you as you made your way to the drivers side, hesitantly returning the wave you gave him which was strange.

As soon as you’d turned the street Doris had burst into laughter, but refused to tell you why.

bam bam bam baybee tell me if you liked it or not, gonna go post on ao3

#roy kent x reader #roy kent fic #roy kent x you #roy kent x y/n #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent scenario #roy kent imagine #afc richmond x reader #ted lasso fic #ted lasso x reader #i'm sorry #i need the reach

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raina-at · 4 months

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One of the most interesting things about the 20 Questions survey lately was that it revealed the astonishing amount of people who are here through the X-Files to Sherlock pipeline. And it makes total sense, of course, because you have the neurodivergent genius mess and their much shorter, much saner doctor partner. Their relationship is incredibly intense but remains platonic for a very long time, and it's almost impossible to explain to outsiders because the genius one is completely insane and the supposedly sane one is so incredibly repressed you'd need a fucking crowbar to get a straight answer out of them. But they almost need to fuck at some point because they're such insanely intense soul mates that anyone who gets between them gets crushed by the narrative. They're so dysfunctionally co-dependent that they'd literally die without each other, but at the same time they're both such messes that you need, like, 60k of fic to get them to actually express, like, one emotion.

And you can see what the Sherlock fandom has learned from the X-Files fandom, because Trapped Together, Fake Married For A Case, Huddling For Warmth are actual canon tropes in The X Files.

(I remember in one of our fic chats back in the day someone once said that the Sherlock fandom invented the 'fake relationship but it's For A Case' trope, and a lot of us were like, um... that's an actual canon X-Files episode. So many tropes are like... um, that's an ACTUAL CANON EPISODE of the X-Files. Remember when they were trapped in the Arctic? Or stranded in the woods? Or when they were trapped on that rock in Quagmire? Or when they had shared hallucinations? Or when Mulder broke through the mind control because he couldn't bear to shoot Scully? Or when they spent Christmas in a haunted house? Or, you know, THE FUCKING BEE?!?!?)

The X-Files, everybody. The mother of modern internet fandom.

#the x files #sherlock #the overlap is strong in this one

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assortedvillainvault · 5 months

Note

Captain Hook,Davie Jones and captain Barbarosa are competing each other who is better captain,has better ship and can loot more treasure.

It’s a tense air that carpets the dark, back corner table the three of them are sat at, bottles in hand.

“Well, obviously, it’s yours truly.” Hook artfully sips from the bottle cradled in his namesake. “Formerly first mate to Blackbeard, immortal scourge of Neverland, a name known worldwide and, clearly-” he sneers a bit, “The one with the most class present. Of course its me.”

Barbossa rolls his eyes as he takes a rough swing of his own bottle, apple in hand. “Hardly.” he drawls. “Yer a coward who couldn’ kill a little ginger whelp and got yerself eaten for the trouble.”

“How dare-!”

“Besides-” Barbossa continues as though Hook weren’t even speaking, enjoying the way the red coated captain’s face was turning purple. “In case yer memory be failin’ ye, I ended my tenure at sea as Cap’n of a pirate armada, more swag in me hold than can be found in most palaces, and only the wrath of Poseidon ‘imself kept me from returning to stalk the waves again. Clearly.” He clacks the bottle against the table in finality. “It be me.”

The third occupant of the table leisurely lights his pipe even as Hook’s temper breaks and lunges across the table, the razor sharp hook just barely missing Barbossa’s throat as the older pirate swears and topples arse over ankles back from his seat. Bottles are thrown, swords are drawn, and Barbossas laugh is cut short as Hook slashes his feathered hat in half – fighting back properly with a snarl.

Jones idly puffs smoke and settles in as the bartenders weigh in against the squabbling captains, blue eyes glinting in the dark. His first mate, Maccus, leans over from another table.

“Uh-” the shark begins. “What’s the question again?”

Jones boredly taps out the ashes and lights another smoke. “Who be the best pirate.”

Maccus blinks. “But we ain’t even pirates. Most a th’ crew were honest sailors.”

“Aye.” Jones shrugs. “Ah dinnae know what they think we could do with looted holds - bar souls - anyway. The Dutchman regrows any damage.”

“And normal folk run screamin’ at port or sea.” Maccus nodded, teeth clicking idly. “...bets on these two?”

Jones surveys the broken furniture and theatrical shenanigans across the room, where Hook and Barbossa posture and swing, evenly matched as the barstaff duck for cover under tables and fallen wall hangings.

“...ten years say’s Barbossa, but only if it dinnae come to pistols. Hook’s a mean shot.”

Maccus grins full of sharp teeth. “Twenty years. Hook’s bloody quick, even if Barbossa’s all bones.”

Thanks for the ask!!

#thalassa responds #disney villains #disney captain hook #hector barbossa #davy jones #obligatory apology for the year long wait on getting this out #hope you're well and enjoy the unexpected prose!#the girls are fightinnnggg

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giggly-squiggily · 3 months

Text

💝Candy Heart Valentine Event 2024!💝

We're back again- WHOOO!

Heyo everybody! It's the sweetest time of the year; Candy Hearts time! Thank you so, so much to everyone who's participated in the sentence starters survey this year; it really helped me figure out what prompts to keep and which to change out! I truly appreciate it!

Another major thank you to everyone who's also sent in suggestions! There were so many good ones to pick from; and I ended up choosing a few from the ones recommended!

💝 Rules💝

- Send me a pairing (Platonic or Romantic) from the fandoms listed below along with a candy heart phrase (Sentence Starter) from the list! (Ex: ObaMitsu- True Love) and I will write a short dabble for it!

- The event will be open from January 28-February 13th, ending at 8:00 PM EST. I will make an announcement when prompts are officially closed!

-Multiple prompts are allowed! The limit is like- 5? Just be sure to send them in separate asks if you send multiples! (Helps me make sure I get them all :D)

- Dabbles will start coming out Feb 1!

- I do write “Character x Reader!” (If you want it to be platonic, please specify with “Platonic!Reader”)

-Multiple sentence starter requests are allowed!

- Requester’s Choice: This is essentially a blank Candy- you can pick whatever sentence starter you want for it! :)

-Please check my pinned post for any characters/ships/things I will and won't write! Thank you :)

~Candy Hearts and Fandoms Below The Cut~

💝 Candy Heart Sentence Starters 💝

**: Recommended by you lovely folks!

❤️ Be Mine: “Oh that is IT! Come here!”

🧡 Miss You: “When’s the last time you smiled?”

💛 True Love: “I could do this all day.”

💚 Cutie: “You can't hide from me, I can hear you laughing!"**

💙 XOXO: “Hey, do you like raspberries?”

💜 Angel: “What happens if I do this?”

❤️ I love you: "What a brave thing to say for someone so ticklish."**

🧡 Bestie: Requester’s choice: Pick your own sentence starter!

💛 Sweet Heart: “Oh? Is someone ticklish?”

💚 Cupid: “I’m gonna get you!”

💗 Say Yes: “Hey did you- give that back!"**

💙 Smile: “I didn’t know you were ticklish here!”

💜 Hug: “I just want a hug!”

❤️ Darling: “Do you want me to tickle you?”

🧡 Love bug: “What’s so funny?”

💛 Soul Mate: “Not there? What about here?”

💚 Sweet Pea: “Is this a bad spot?”

💙 Adore: “I haven't even touched you yet!"

💜 Kiss me: “Don’t stop? If you say so!”

❤️ Me + You: “No way! I didn’t know you were ticklish!”

🧡 Always and Forever: “Look how red you are! How cute!”

💛 I’m Yours: “You like being tickled, don’t you?”

💚 Puppy love: “Where are those giggles I love so much?”

💙 Only You: "Stop squirming!"**

💜 Hot Stuff: “Come over here and make me!”

🩷 Be My Valentine: "I know all your weaknesses!"**

❤ It's Love: "Hey could You...You Know?"

🧡 Babydoll: "Keep your arms up!"**

💝 Fandoms 💝

-Some of the fandoms on here will have **Limited Request** beside them. This means I will only be taking up to a limited amount of that fandom.

If the fandom is crossed out, it means all slots for it have been filled!

Big Windup

Black Clover

Blue Lock

Buddy Daddies

Bungo Stray Dogs

Chainsaw Man

Code Realize

Collar x Malice

Danganronpa

Demon Slayer **Limited Request**

Dr. Stone

Fire Force

Fruit’s Basket

Free! Iwatobi Swim Club

Given

Haikyuu!!

Heartstopper

Hell’s Paradise: Jirokuraku

Hunter x Hunter (Up to Greed Island arc)

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure

Jujutsu Kaisen

Komi Can’t Communicate

Moriarty The Patriot

My Hero Academia **Limited Requests**

Piofiore (Dante's route; still working on others)

Pokemon **Limited Requests** (All Gens)

Rain Code: Master Detectives

Sk8 The Infinity

Spy x Family

Toliet Bound Hanako Kun

Tokyo Revenges

Vinland Saga

Yu Yu Hakusho

Thanks again to everyone! I'm so excited to see what y'all have in store! :D

#squiggily rambles #Candy Heart Valentine Event #chve2k24 #Let the event begin! >:D #I'm so excited for this AHH!

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pars-ley · 1 year

Text

Umbra (part two)

Pairing: Demon Jimin x female Angel reader

Summary: Going to a demon for help was the last thing you expected to do but when it’s your only chance to find your soul mate, you have no choice. Even when that demon was your long term rival.

Genre: Soulmate au / Fantasy au / Demons and Angels / Strangers to lovers / Drabble series / Angst / Fluff / Smut

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Mentions of demons / Demon magic / Mentions of hell / Severed animals heads / Mentions of sex and sexual implications / Pervert Demon Seokjin / Mentions of scarring / Hints at previous fights

W/C: 2.7k

Beta: @sun-kore thank you so much for your help and your kind words.

Banner: Moodboard by me.

Taglist: @jungkooksbroski @hotdamnchimchim @clouditae @ggukkieland

Notes: This one has been a really long time coming. Now that I'm getting back into the swing of writing, I'm trying to go back through my WIPS and actually finish them! I’ve already started part three of this series, so if you like the second part, please do let me know.

Staring up at the pawn shop sign, wondering how on earth you ended up here, a notorious demon's cover for his dark magic exploits, you'd never set foot in here in your wildest dreams, but desperate times call for desperate measures. So you force one foot in front of the other and make your way inside; a bell jingles as the door closes. You survey the many trinkets scattering the shelves, searching for any sign of life.

"I'll be right with you." A deep, gravelly voice sounds directly behind you.

You spin around, but you're met with nothing but empty air. A dark chuckle sounds around you, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

"Well, well, well, I must say I haven't received news that hell has frozen over." The rough voice sounds again. You turn to see him fully materialised before you, the broad-shouldered fiend himself, Seokjin.

"Believe me, I never thought I'd cross paths with you again."

He smirks and drifts towards you. "Ah yes, the last time wasn't so pleasant for me." His fingers skate across the scar that patterns his neck and creeps up his jaw. A lightning bolt of puckered skin created by you.

"But I have to admit, I am a sucker for your pretty face, and it has filled my dreams at night ever since our meeting." His fingers gently tuck your hair behind your ear, his digits managing not to touch you but still sending a sickly shiver along your spine.

"That makes you a very serious masochist." You reply, impatience forming a hot pit in your chest, threatening to erupt.

A seductive smile stretches his plump lips. "Mmmm, indeed."

"I'm here because I need your help." You add quickly, interrupting his hungry gaze that wanders across your body.

He freezes, eyes popping slightly before laughter bellows out from him. "You must be desperate if you've come to me. But, I'm sorry," he composed himself, "I find your misfortune pleases me somewhat."

You roll your eyes. "Thanks. Now, are you going to help me or not."

"Just straight to it, no foreplay, no warm-up, nothing, um?" He looks at you, a cheeky glint in his eyes. "But I wonder, what are you willing to bargain for in exchange for my help?"

He closes the remaining gap between you, his hand winding around your waist and pressing your body against his.

"How far are you willing to go?"

Your smoky tendrils wrap around his wrists and ankles keeping him in place and unable to move. "I'm willing to not shop you in and let you continue practising your dark magic off the radar. That's what I'm offering." You say through gritted teeth, every fibre of your being coiled and tense, ready to spring.

He moans at your magical grip on him. "I love it when you talk dirty."

You snake extra tendrils around his throat and squeeze, cutting off his air supply. "Or I could just get rid of you myself and find another low-life demon to help me. One who will keep his hands to himself."

His reddening face manages a smile and a nod. You release him. The gasp of air he takes fills the tense silence in the room.

"Ok, ok." He says between breaths. "Can't blame a guy for trying, right?" Winking at you, his hand comes up to his neck, massaging the red mark you've left there. He smooths his hair back and takes a breath.

"What is it I can do to assist you?"

His face flashes behind your eyes for a moment, smooth skin, piercing eyes, and that perfect smile you got only a glimpse at. "I need to find someone."

Seokjin stares at you before waving his hand in a 'continue' motion. "I need more to go on, love."

"A demon has disappeared, and I need you to tell me where he is."

His face turns serious. "You want me to help you find one of your marks." He scoffs.

"He's not a mark. This is personal." Your eyebrows knit together, attempting to keep the desperation out of your voice.

His eyes narrow at you. "Then why? Angels don't mix with demons for the fun of it. So you expect me to believe you won't turn him in or kill him?"

You sigh and rub your temples. "You can believe what you want; nevertheless, I need this demon, but he disappeared right before me a few days ago, and I've been unable to find him."

He chuckles. "Sounds like he's not interested, dear."

"He didn't dissolve. He literally disappeared. He was right in front of me one moment; next, he was gone."

Seokjin frowns. "Now, this has piqued my interest."

He walks to the shop door, locks it, and turns the closed sign face out.

"Come."

He beckons you to the back of the store with a crooked finger, leading you out through a thin veil curtain. The dark green material billows around you and paves the way to a dark staircase, unnaturally so. You take hesitant steps down, your heart beating harder with every movement descending into the inky abyss.

A loud click and dim light illuminates everything in the basement and leaves enough shadows for your eyes to search for danger.

"Come and sit." He points to the large wooden table in the centre of the room.

You stop in your tracks, however, when you notice the seemingly real but very dead animals attached to various parts of the walls. They were slightly decayed, skin discoloured and disintegrating, yet there was no smell in the air or flies around. The magic aura surrounding it was an impressively powerful one. You sit on one of the chairs, fingertips grazing the scorch marks etched dark and deep into the grain of the old oak. You sift through them, running a finger over the demonic runes and curses which cover the tabletop.

"Now, demons don't just disappear." Seokjin starts, standing beside you, "and it doesn't sound like he was banished. Was there any smoke or a mark on the floor once he'd disappeared?"

You shook your head. "No, I was staring him right in the face, and it was like I blinked, and he was gone."

Seokjin watches you carefully, eyes narrowed and suspicious. Finally, he sits down, leaning back in his chair, stroking his chin with his long crooked fingers, nails black and scorched from the dark magic.

"How long have we known each other, angel? Ninety years?"

You shrug, your knee bouncing impatiently, but you force it down, clasping your knees together. "Give or take."

"Hm," he nods. "I know there is something you're not telling me. But believe me when I say I cannot help you unless you tell me everything."

Sighing, you rub your burning, tired eyes. "Fine." Pulling your sleeve roughly and slamming your arm on the table for him to see.

Your soul-mate mark was now a glowing white, illuminating your arm against the dark wooden backing.

"Ah, you've found your mate; how sweet." He mocks. "And let me guess, this demon has kidnapped your new mate, and once you find him, you'll exact revenge, yada, yada, yada. Am I close?" He leans forward, resting both arms on the table.

Your chest burns with the acid rising up from your churning stomach, unable to believe the words you are about to utter. "The demon is my mate."

It takes you a few moments in the silence that follows that statement to look at Seokjin, but when you do, his wide-eyed frozen face is almost enough to amuse you. The longer the silence stretches on, the more deafening it becomes, and with your current state of mind, you can't cope much longer.

"Seokjin, we're wasting time."

He snaps out of it, confused eyes focused on yours and mirroring your own mixed feelings in the glassy black optics. "I, um, I have some questions."

Your breath leaves in a frustrated huff.

His hands come up in a defensive position. "I'm sorry, but this is very new for me. In all my years, I've never heard of this happening… inter-species mating…permanently. Not even a whisper of it, and trust me, the things I have been privy to about our worlds, I could shock you."

"I doubt that. Not many things shock me about your world or mine anymore."

"Ah," he leans in, one perfectly pointed eyebrow sharp and raised straight for you, like an accusatory dagger. "But this little scenario did, did it not?" He stretches out and strokes his bent finger across your mark, making bile rise and anger alight your veins.

You grab his wrist and twist it fast, but he's faster, grabbing your other wrist with his free hand and turning it hard enough that with one more movement, it would snap.

"We appear to be at a stalemate, sweetheart."

Your teeth snap shut, an attempt to control some of your anger but also as a preventive to not let him know how much pain he's inflicting.

"Are you going to help me or not? I don't have time for games." You spit.

He smirks, eyes fiery with lust and mistaken superiority. "Yes, I'll help. Purely now, because I have my own questions that need answering."

"Well, get in line, buster."

He laughs and releases the grip on your wrist. In return, you do the same, sitting down quickly before you change your mind about breaking some part of him. God, he'd be a dead man if you didn't need him.

"If we're going to…go all the way," he can't help the smile that tugs at one side of his mouth. "I'm going to need a little bit of trust. Can you do that?"

You scoff. "Can you promise you won't touch me again?"

He sucks in a slow, deep breath. "I'll try my hardest, angel, but you need to give me something to think about on those nights I wake up from dreams of you."

You feel your top lip turn up into an uncontrollable grimace. "Have I not hurt you enough today, already?"

His deep cackle vibrates through you as he strokes the wrist you just released. "With you, it would never be enough." But then he mimes, making a cross against his heart.

"That would mean something if you had one in there." You jibe.

He holds the place on his chest where one should be, as if you've wounded him. "Ouch. Uncalled for."

Rolling your eyes, you shrug out of your jacket, sensing you are here for the long run, and ignore his eyes on your body as you do so.

"Ok, let's find this demon, shall we?" His bright smile unnerves you. "I need you to put your palms on the table, close your eyes and picture his face in your mind. Can you do that?"

You give a curt nod and do as he says, even if every fibre of your being screams against it.

The scorch markings under your palms feel strange as the sweat on your hands makes you stick to the table. You peek out of one eye at Seokjin to see him mirroring your stance, eyes wholly shut. He could almost look handsome with his usual smug face impassive…almost.

"Close your eyes." He orders, making you squeeze them shut tight and fight the smile that threatens beneath the surface.

You focus your mind and think of only him. Seems crazy to think you're bound to someone, and yet, you don't even know his name.

His face appears behind your eyelids, perfect smooth skin that practically glows. Plump lips that stretch into an exhaustingly beautiful smile and dark eyes like crescent moons. You see the way his blonde hair moves in the hint of a breeze, the curve of his Adams apple as he swallows. You're eager to reach out and touch his throat, sliding your fingers down his skin, wondering if it would feel like silk under your touch.

A noise interrupts the eerie silence, a low hum in the air. The palms of your hands start to burn as the marks on the table grow hotter, the air feeling thick and heavy around you, static, making your hair stand on end, but you ignore it, shoving it down and focusing just on the picture in your mind.

"There you are…" you hear Seokjin whisper, so eager to open your eyes but daring not to in case the spell breaks and your chance of finding him diminishes. "What on earth?"

"What?" You whisper, unable to contain the impatience.

Your hair falls down around your face, and the heat underneath your hands subsides, the wood feeling cold and the silence deafening once again.

"I found him." Seokjin's deep voice sounds into the quiet, barely a whisper but seeming louder than ever.

"And?" You lean forward on the edge of the chair, waiting for his next words.

He finally meets your eyes, a sombre look deep in the onyx orbits staring back at you. "He's in hell."

You frown and shake your head. "What does that even mean?"

"I mean that very literally, love. He's in hell. That's where you'll find him."

You stare blankly at the demon in front of you, so many questions race through your mind leaving you unable to focus on any particular one.

How is this possible? Was he banished by someone? How can you get him? An angel in hell is almost unheard of…not since…

"You want my suggestion?" Seokjin breaks your wild thoughts. "If it was me? I'd leave him there, life-mate or not."

You push away from the table, ready to leave, not wanting to hear anything that won't help you.

"But…" he continues, and something in his voice makes your feet stop, wanting to hear his following words. "I know you won't be able to do that, so...I'll help you."

You turn, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "For a price?"

He smiles, "everything has a price sweetheart."

"Name it."

He stands and strides slowly toward you. Your body tense, ready to run or fight, a natural instinct you can't unlearn. His hand comes up to your face, hesitating for a moment, searching your eyes for permission. Then, for a moment, he seems to soften, his eyes almost pleading before his nonchalant mask returns, and his hand drops without touching you.

"You leave me and my shop alone for good."

You breathe a sigh of relief. Of course, that would be what he wants. And that you could give him.

"And when I say you, I mean all of you."

Now that is a little harder; there’s a long list of angels and other species who hunt delinquents, some for work and some for sport. Getting the other angels to Ignore his dealings would be a hard sell, but maybe his helping of an angel return safely from the depths of hell could work in his favour.

"Provided we return safely?" You press.

He nods, his eyes wild like a cat preparing to pounce on a mouse.

"Deal."

You put your hand out, and he eagerly takes it, lifting it to his mouth and inhaling your scent deeply. He moans, the sound turning your stomach but annoyance overrides it. When you feel his lips touch your skin, you snatch your hand away and storm up the basement stairs.

"What, no ‘thank you’?" He calls out.

"Thanks." You mumble as you slam the basement door shut.

You feel his breath against your ear, knowing full well if you turned, he wouldn't be there. "Be here tomorrow at two am."

The shiver it sends down your spine makes your feet move faster to leave the building, and as soon as that door closes behind you, you finally feel like you can breathe again.

You absentmindedly rub the back of your hand; an irritation persists, and when you look down, to see a dark mark where his lips touched the skin, all around it red and sore. The sight makes you want to race back in there and rip those lips right off his face, but the sound of his laughter from inside, knowing he's watching you still, made you want to get away as soon as possible. You stick your middle finger up and march in the direction of home.

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grace-nakimura · 6 months

Note

PROMPT: Obi-Wan, Mara, lightsabers. Please???

Under the cut. Not beta'd. Not proofread. Just random.

"Now," Ben begins, adjusting the girl's posture as she holds the cylinder handle of his lightsaber in both of her hands gently, and then takes a step back and surveys her - her footwork is impeccable and once the girl isn't slouching, she's muscles seem to relax. Good. "For this first lesson, we're going to start with a few kattas, and stick with Form I."

Mara, his grandchild - and stars, is it a wonder in itself that he, the last choice and youngling who seemed to struggle more than his creche mates in the Kybuck clan, is a grandfather! - and continued belief that there is something worth fighting for in these dark times, groans. With every eye roll, with every whine, and with every shy smile or laugh his heart grows. Something blossoms in his soul that he thought to be long dead.

That small seedling survived the bitter cold while watching Luke from afar; then Leia's fire, her kindness, gave the seedling water to grow; and finding Satine, taking care of their grandchild together, makes the seed grow into the most vibrant of flowers.

He's never going to fully be Obi-Wan Kenobi ever again, nor will he ever stop mourning and loving the Order and his brother equally, but that doesn't mean he isn't him.

"None of that," he gently scolds the eight-year-old girl. The twin suns are setting and how the lights catch her golden-red hair makes it look like her name - fire. "I promised your grandmother we would start slow." A sly smile be-paints his face and, while he stands behind her and she looks forward to the sandy dunes and planes of the Jutland Wastes, he takes pride in the fact she can't see him. She's too busy glaring daggers in the distance. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather not provoke her anytime soon."

Mara turns her head and for a moment, he sees a younger, daring version of himself with that messy braid that hangs over her shoulder and her own sly smirk on her freckled-covered face. "I thought you already did?" And she's giggling. It's been months and every so often she shows nuggets of a child, or a person she's relearning to be, and even if it's at his own expense he can't help but be so proud.

Her laugh isn't his nor Satine's, so he surmises it might've been her mother's, or even Korkie's.

( And what he would give to be able to have heard his son's laugh, or to embrace him, or anything than that brief comm call before Satine and Mara landed on Tatooine. )

"She says you are end-snuff-able," insufferable, "and a mirror-ad - " myriad, " - of charisma mixed with poodoo."

He should correct her language, but all he can do is throw his head back and bark out a laugh. His shoulders shake with mirth and, yes, those are all things Satine would say, and have said, about him. There is a soft sort of pride that he feels in the force coming from Mara who, in a rare moment that isn't a smirk or a shy grin, beams at his amusement.

Love. It's the first time she really felt that way towards him. Satine, of course; he felt her love and care and loyalty to her from the first moment he met her, but for him? Uncertainty, at best, aloofness, almost a bashful wonder, but love?

I love you, too, dear one, he sends out into the Force, causing the child's ears to redden, before she looks out into the great expanse of sand and ignites his lightsaber.

"Begin!"

#answered #myfic #* mara jade is a kryze.#* meemaw & peepaw on tatooine.#that is gonna be the 'verse' or smth.

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velidewrites · 2 years

Text

Sunflower: Part II | Elucien Drabble

You can find Part I here

Word Count: 1.8k

Note: Lucien sucks at gardening and Elain realises some things about their bond. Hope you enjoy!

It had been two weeks.

Two weeks since she’d last seen him.

Her…mate, she supposed. After their last meeting, right before he’d left, Elain had been slowly growing more accustomed to the word. No longer did it make her chest tighten with fear; no longer did it make her feel confined. What it truly meant to her, though, she still was not quite sure.

She brought her hand to her chest, as if to ensure their bond was still in place. That golden thread had become a lifeline, a companion for when Feyre’s home, though spacious and perfectly lovely, would become too dark and foreign. For when the Inner Circle felt more like her family than Elain’s, too oblivious to who Elain truly was and what she truly needed.

She sighed in relief when she felt a gentle tug on her chest. The bond was there, gleaming with golden light, making her feel less…alone.

“Elain?” Feyre’s voice sounded from the corridor.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes at her sister’s cautious, gentle tone. It was one she would hear often at the River House—or the House of Wind, or Velaris…as if Elain was like the flowers she grew in her garden. So beautiful and fragile they had to be exceptionally careful not to accidentally step on her.

“In here,” she sighed.

Blue-grey eyes peeked from the half-open door.

“You’ve been here for quite a while. Is there anything you need?” Feyre asked.

Elain opened her mouth to answer, the words lingering on her breath, yet none made their way out as she felt it again—a small tug of that golden thread, wrapped safely around her soul.

“Lucien,” she breathed.

Feyre’s brows shot up in surprise. “Lucien?”

Elain waved her hand distractedly. “No, I…” she trailed off, already making her way out of the room. “Lucien is here.” She passed by her sister, ignoring the look of confusion and surprise painting Feyre’s features.

Feeling excitement rise through her with each step, Elain reached the staircase, marble and grand as anything in the River House, and her breathing hitched slightly. Wearing a deep green jacket that strangely looked worn out, with red hair unbound and falling loosely down his back, Lucien stood in the hallway, looking more ruggedly handsome than ever.

He looked up, as if sensing her presence too, and his russet eye twinkled with what she could have sworn was mischief as their gazes met. “My lady,” he bowed.

Elain hurried down the remaining steps, determined to reach him as soon as possible, only stopping less than two feet away from where he stood. She extended her hand in their usual manner of greeting, smiling as Lucien brought it to his lips, a grin playing on the corners of his mouth.

He didn’t let go of her hand, his fingers lightly curling around hers, as if desperate for a few more seconds of touch. She didn’t mind, choosing to survey his beautiful face instead. Noting a faint smear of dirt on his right cheekbone, Elain instinctively reached out her other hand to gently run her thumb across it. Lucien’s throat bobbed at the touch, and, feeling her cheeks flush with heat, she quickly tied both hands behind her back, feeling emptier somehow with the warmth of his skin missing from hers.

“Sorry, you had…” she began, feeling her cheeks grow even hotter. She must have looked ridiculous. “You had a bit of dirt on your face.”

“Did I?” he asked, and Elain’s eyes followed as he brought two long fingers to where hers had just been. Lucien caught the movement, the corners of his mouth twitching in answer.

“Yes. You’re quite the mess today,” she joked to distract him. Or maybe herself. “Have you even been home yet?”

Lucien’s gaze locked on hers, flashing with uncertainty. “I’ve only just returned. This was the first place I thought of, so…here I am.”

Oh.

“I’m glad,” Elain said softly, and his features relaxed at the tone. He reached out his hand, pausing mid-air as if to examine her reaction. But Elain made no move. She wasn’t even sure she was breathing.

Lucien angled his head slightly, and continued as his fingers found a loose strand of golden-brown hair. “I’ve missed you,” he said breathed, tucking the lock gently behind her ear.

She felt her chest tighten at the raw honesty in his voice. “I’ve missed you, too,” she admitted quietly, lacing her fingers behind her back.

His eyes gleamed in response, and his hand dropped as he said softly, “I brought you sunflowers.”

Elain could do nothing but stare at him. “You…did?” she asked, her words near-breathless.

Lucien dragged a hand through his hair, the red streaks shining with golden light, reflected from sunlight beaming through the windows. “Well, sunflower seeds, to be exact. I thought…” he cleared his throat. “I thought we might plant them together, like you’d said.”

Warmth spread through her at the words. He remembered. And when he was away, on a whole different continent, he’d thought of her. Her eyes burned. “I would love that,” she only managed to say.

Lucien smiled, so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him. So beautiful and…

Mine.

You are mine, and I am yours.

“I…” she let out a trembling breath. “I know you’ve had a long journey. But I’d love to show you something in the garden, if you have a moment.”

Pools of russet and gold gleamed at her with something she couldn’t quite discern, but his voice was hoarse as he said, “For you, my lady, always.”

***

Elain’s garden at the River House was nothing short of beautiful. She could’t help but feel pride bloom inside her chest at the sight of Lucien’s mouth parting in awe as they walked through it, surrounded by fresh, fragrant flowers, basking in the afternoon sun. Elain could have sworn a few of them perked up at her presence, like longtime friends finally reuniting. She smiled, immediately feeling invigorated, as if being amongst the plants she brought to life made her come alive as well.

She led him further towards the back, where a plain, long patch of fresh soil overlooked the gleaming Sidra.

Lucien’s brows furrowed. “What’s this?”

Her lips parted in a wicked grin. “We’re gardening, of course. It’s time to get elbows-deep in soil, my lord.”

Understanding dawned on his face, and Lucien returned the beam. “All right,” he said, taking off his jacket to reveal a white, loose linen shirt. He tossed it aside, rolling up the sleeves to his forearms as he asked, “Where do we start?”

She barely registered the question, instead finding herself utterly mesmerised by his thick, muscular—

“Elain?” Lucien asked, his grin growing wider as if he knew exactly what thoughts were running through her mind.

“What?” she asked absently, eyes on his golden brown muscles, flexing in the sunlight.

“The soil’s getting colder with each second you spend admiring my body.”

“That’s not a thing,” she countered, unsure which part of his point she was addressing.

Lucien chuckled softly, the sound snapping her out of her daze. “Right,” she said, feeling red heat spread on her face. “Let’s get to it.”

***

“That’s cheating!” Elain protested.

A small laugh escaped him, and he twirled his finger at the soil one more time. A beautiful sunflower with vibrant, yellow petals shot up from the ground, quickly growing to its full length.

She shot up her hands in exasperation. “Lucien!”

“Come now, Elain,” he purred, the sound settling deep in her bones. “Is it not much quicker this way? You don’t have to wait weeks for them to bloom and you can alter their size to your liking.”

She huffed in response, hating that he was right, though a part of her was dying to ask him how to do that. She’d never imagined using magic in her garden. The things she could do…

“Let’s take a break,” she only grumbled, prompting another laugh from Lucien.

They made their way to sit by the garden’s edge, the soft breeze of the Sidra mixing with the rich scent of soil. Elain closed her eyes, smiling lightly as she let fresh, flowery air fill her lungs. Judging by the silence next to her, Lucien was doing the same thing, sprawled lazily on the grass.

Their peaceful silence was suddenly interrupted with a loud growl of Lucien’s stomach.

Elain’s eyes shot wide open, and she giggled at the ridiculous sound. “Hungry?” she teased.

Lucien rolled his eyes dramatically, though his cheeks flushed just enough for her to notice. “You know, I have just returned from a two-week journey.”

She shook her head in amusement, careful not to slip on the damp soil as she made to get up. “I’ll grab us some tea and biscuits. You, stay,” she added as Lucien began propping himself up.

He chuckled. “As my lady commands,” he only said, and Elain tried to ignore her stomach flipping at his words.

***

Elain returned to find Lucien asleep on the ground, red hair tangled through the grass. He must have dozed off, tired from his journey on top of spending the past hour gardening—and failing miserably, too. She chuckled softly, looking to her left where the fruits of their labour bloomed, and froze in place.

Sunflowers followed in the direction of the sun, facing it at all times throughout the day—Elain had learned that from the gardening books she’d bought when she’d first dared to explore Velaris. It was why she’d always been drawn to them, captivated by their endless pursuit to bask in the sun’s golden light. In some ways, she was just like them. Craving the sun, never wanting to give in to the darkness again.

And so she could all but blink in surprise when she found her sunflowers were no longer facing the sun, but Lucien, sleeping peacefully to their right.

Elain scanned his face, looking perfectly content in the warmth of the afternoon sun. His skin seemed to shimmer, as if he’d absorbed the golden light and was now reflecting it back for others to bask in. And as she watched his lips lightly curve upward at whatever dream he was having, she couldn’t help but smile back, that bond between them wrapping tighter around her chest as she finally realised what it truly meant to her.

That she’d been given someone whose soul reflected her own. Her equal. Her mate.

Her sun.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @headcanonheadcase @houseofhurricane @goddess-aelin @hlizr50 @how-to--disappear @nestasbitch @zoya-nikolai @foxwithagoldeye@nspwriteups @rabbitlover1027 @rbhatesmangos

#someone get lucien to the day court right now #i need my man to glow with sunlight all day long #elucien fic #elucien drabble #elucien fanfiction #elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #lucien spell cleaver #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #my writing

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just-a-florist · 3 months

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From the Cafe asks:

Iced Cafe mocha: Whats your favorite thing to do on rainy days?

As the rain beats against the stain-glass windows of the Vigilant Sanctuary, Dajia's ears perk. The Chua gives a nervous twitch, heat snapping to survey the empty halls as it pads down them. Its ears turn this way and that, listening for any sign of those few lost souls that were current residence. There was the soft murmur of voices from the upper levels, but the main sanctuary remains empty. Dajia sighs, nose giving a wiggle as it makes its way towards the nave of the main congregation sanctuary. Within, statues of the holy Eldan stand silently and observe as the Chua approaches the alter. Dajia had never been one for rain. There had been too many times where it had been tossed out on its ear in Bezgalore, told to go 'play' with its litter mates to give Mama Nani a break and there had been no Papa Moro to usher any of them back in out of the wet. To this day, Dajia despises the damp in its fur and the sound. An endless beating, but within the Sanctuary? It's a distant thrum. The sound feels like the quiet hum of the Eldan. A soothing stroke over its ears to calm away those old, rotten memories. Dajia drops to its knees in front of the alter, head bowing as its ears perk up to hear that quiet hum all the better. The Chua releases a slow breath, then prays.

#Wildstar #Tumblr RP #WSRP #THANK YOU BELOVED #♥♥♥#IC #ask #Dajia Nano #Dajia #the religious rat is still very religious

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cljordan-imperium · 6 months

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Jasper Should Not Be Let Out Alone

AKA - Jasper visits Eva Shelby

Eva Shelby belongs to @evita-shelby

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Eva Shelby…” Jasper’s sarcastic tone dripping with his heavy British accent came from the shadows as Eva had been heading to the herbalist. It brought her to a stop as she spun to see exactly who it was that was calling her name at such a late hour in that area of town. The voice sounded familiar, too familiar.

“I know you?” Her eyes narrowed, chin lifting as she surveyed him. Her senses prickling at the man before her, no not a man. Who was he, and why was he here?

“Oh now, darling, you’ve made enough curses and sent me on enough missions to do your bidding, you might not know my face, but you do know my real name. Don’t invoke it now though, that would not be seemingly, just call me Jasper for the moment.” Seeing her eyes widen was delightful for him. Oh, it was sinking in for the witch as he drew closer to her, the tap of his silver tipped cane making a nice thud each time it hit the dirt of the road between them. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to threaten, I just thought we should meet. You see, a dear friend of mine is a dear friend of your husband’s. So, there will never be a threat on my part. She is far too important to me, in addition to our business arrangement.” He winked with a cocky grin as he strutted, yes strutted over towards Eva. She was beautiful, he could well see why Shelby had married her.

“The blonde? Anna?” Eva’s eyes narrowed as she took measure of the fair haired, tall male sauntering towards her. She knew she’d sensed something different about the woman he’d mentioned, not threatening, just…different. Now with the male before her, he was giving off seriously dark energy and she had a feeling she knew somewhat what it might be.

“Ah, so you do know her, darling.” Jasper grinned smugly. “She’s no threat either. Quite fond of your Thomas, she is, but if you think you are territorial, you cannot even imagine what an angel who finally found his mate after waiting since the dawn of creation can be like.” His lips twitched up even more. “He has stopped pulling the wings off of the one angel who kept being an asshole and flirting with her though, such a mess,” he chuckled and gave a false shudder, “feathers and angel blood everywhere and having to be around so much Light to have them put back on.” His eyes rolled with a slightly disgusted look on his face. “And she’s just as disgustingly besotted with him.”

“And now you want?” Did this male ever shut up? No? Eva cantered her head still with narrowed eyes as she regarded him.

“Ah, yes, darling. I was getting to that, you see.” Once more with the self assured grin. “It is All Hallows Eve, as you well know, and the veil is oh so deliciously thin, and your curses have all run their course.” His eyes narrowed at her as his grin turned wicked in nature. “I need you to make a few more, invoke my name for some bidding, damn a few people, the usual…. I’d just like to add a bit more wickedness to my repertoire, garner a few more souls to my stash, assist one of my favorite witches in her endeavors to set her husband up at the top of everything. I’m only on this side of the pond for a short time more before I mosey back over to New Orleans and I’d like to collect some extra gravitas before I do. And you, little witch, shall get whatever it is your little black heart desires in return, as always.” He grinned and winked. Jasper might be a demon but he did believe in even exchange of services after all. Normally he did not deal directly with the witches who summoned him to do their bidding, but there were special cases. As Eva was attached to someone near and dear to Annabella, that made her one of those special cases.

“Can I watch?” Now it was her smirk that turned devious. There were a few of her husband’s enemies who had thrown slurs in her direction in languages they did not think she knew, who underestimated her, or think she did not deserve to be considered in their social class. She would love to see them get their just rewards a the had of her friendly neighborhood demon. “Ah, now there is a catch darling, I can’t make you….” he paused for a second and thought. No, he could not make Eva’s physical body invisible, however there was something he COULD do, and that would allow her to watch. “It is going to take a little navigation on your part, but I believe we can come to an arrangement. See, due to agreements that keeps certain organizations from obliterating me, I cannot make your corporeal body invisible. However, once you are asleep, if you were to summon me from within your dream and bid me to carry out these murders from within your dream but have them take place in the corporeal realm, well, I’m afraid Lady Shelby, I would be bound as a demon to do that. At which time if you so instructed me to take your incorporeal spirit along keeping it too safe, well, I have been summoned after all.” Jasper’s grin was devious and mischievous. There were ways around all rules if you were creative enough. He hadn’t found a rule in Heaven, Earth, or anywhere else he hadn’t been able to circumnavigate.

“Then we have a date, Jasper.” Eva’s grin matched his as her voice became smooth as velvet. For some reason she knew that she could trust this demon, if for no other reason than he would be getting what he wanted out of the arrangement either way. Killing her would only bring him trouble from her husband’s friend. “Till then.” She inclined her head to him before heading on her way.

*****

It was just after midnight when Jasper got the tingle of a summons. Being a powerful demon, he did have the choice to respond, but he knew from whom this summons came and with a smirk he mysted into her dreams. Finding himself in a clearing within the woods just outside of London he found it “quaint”.

“I do like the atmosphere you set, Eva.” He chuckled as he looked over at the witch and extended his hand that had his signet ring with his demonic sigil on it. “Shall we. Make sure you do not let go of my hand or you shall be pulled back into your dream. You are somewhere safe aren’t you?”

“I am asleep in my husband’s arms, nowhere safer.” Eva gave him a smug smirk of her own as her hand slid into his larger one.

In a flash, they were outside of the home of a politician who had made it his mission to undermine Tommy. Of course that was never a smart move on a good day, but on this night, it was even a worse one. As the duo walked up the stairs, Jasper’s head tilted as he looked over at Eva with a devious and quite pleased smirk. “Ready for some mischief and mirth, dear witch?” He gave her a wink before they walked straight through the closed front door.

Then it was up the stairs to his bedroom. While Jasper always did appreciate a good snack of a plump human, tonight he would not be indulging in such delicacies. At least he would be refraining while Eva was with him, once her soul was returned to her body…well, what happened, happened.

The master bedroom was easy to find from the prolific and voluminous snoring. If for no other reason than to bring peace to the house, Jasper was going to enjoy this death. Thank the Source, and possibly the Divine, that none of the residents of the Palace made such a cacophony whilst he tried to slumber or no doubt the lovely Abriella would have slit his throat by now.

“Now, darling, put your little hand right over his heart. Yes, just like that.” Jasper was grinning downright devilishly. “Push down through his chest and squeeze. You can go as slow or as fast as you like.” He couldn’t help by chuckle at the look of relishment that was upon her beautiful face as she ended his life. At the last moment, the man’s eyes flew open and Jasper was sure he could see them. He’d have to ask when he was next in Caligo. He did so like visiting victims, after all.

“Now, on to the next one. Isn’t this so much fun?” He grinned, his teeth winking in the moonlight filtering in through the windows.

By the time that Jasper returned Eva to her dream, there were eight dead men and two dead women, NEVER flirt with Eva’s husband, in London. Eva had learned object manipulation, and there was a fire still burning. Oops? However, none of what happened could be tied back to anyone in the Shelby family at all. Of course not. “Now, remember, darling,” Jasper started as he prepared to depart, “you owe me some delicious curses soon too.” With a wink he was gone, and definitely glad that the name she thought she had for him was NOT it.

@saltysupercomputer @blind-the-winds @aziz-reads @pheita @writingmaidenwarrior @outpost51 @call-sign-shark @evita-shelby @raincoffeeandfandoms @toribookworm22 @jessica-writes22

#writeblr #my writing #writeblr community #writeblr connect #writing #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic

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thesistersarcheron · 2 years

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Pairings: poly!Cassian/Nesta/Azriel, Feyre/Rhysand Ratings: E Words: ~6k Catch up on tumblr (prologue, chapter i, chapter ii, chapter iii) or read here on AO3!

Summary It is well known across Prythian that High Fae mating bonds are a sacred union between two souls. Lesser fae mating bonds, more common yet less studied than their High Fae counterparts, are bound by an entirely different set of rules.

After the ball in the Hewn City, Nesta and Cassian swore to each other that there would be no one else. Ever. They didn’t account for Azriel.

The General approaches.

Azriel stifled a sigh and set aside the paperwork he had been skimming over his breakfast.

When Cassian and Nesta fell asleep early last night, he took advantage of the Mother-blessed silence to get some rest as well. He hoped to rise early to sort through the latest reports from his spies and summarize his findings into a briefing he could deliver to Rhysand through Nuala or Cerridwen.

But, evidently, it was not to be.

Worn down by a week of avoiding his brother, shadow-walking to the continent every afternoon to survey countless empty stretches of forest, and his own shadows going rogue, his centuries-long history of insomnia betrayed him.

For the first time in years, Azriel slept in.

He woke two hours later than planned, those same rogue shadows gleefully reporting what he already heard through several layers of wood and stone: Cassian decided to wake Nesta with an orgasm. He banished the shadows the moment he gained enough lucidity to hear what they said, the lewd detail they sang in his ear, but his gut clenched with disgust at the memory.

After five centuries of their near-constant companionship, Azriel didn’t know exactly how they worked: whether they were separate from him or some perverse manifestation of his own subconscious. They certainly possessed some cognizance of his innermost thoughts. They must, to be able to read his desires, shape themselves to his needs, and regularly mortify him by betraying both to anyone with eyes. They were like a swarm of fond, overbearing friends in that way. When he was feeling kind, Azriel often thought it was not unlike the direct, boisterous affection Cassian, Mor, and now Feyre brought to bear on him when they were bored. When he wasn't...

Well.

All that mattered was that he could direct their attention when ordered. That was all any High Lord or Illyrian commander wanted.

But lately the horrible little voyeurs had gone against his orders by taking a rabid interest in his housemates’ sexual habits.

Cassian’s were hardly a secret to Azriel. They had fought and fucked together for centuries, and, recently, shared their females more often than not during the long decades trapped in Velaris under Rhys’s shield. Options were limited, and most of their time was spent making sure the city didn't starve or fall apart. Focusing their limited time and energy on charming one female was simpler. Convincing that female the entire evening was a pleasurable experiment motivated by the general restlessness felt by everyone was easier still.

As a result, Azriel knew exactly what Cassian liked.

And Nesta...

Well, he knew enough about Nesta, too.

Knowing the most private details of someone's life and their innermost desires was nothing new to Azriel. His occupation required infringing on the boundaries of polite society as a matter of course by stealing or charming or torturing information from his subjects.

Most of his time between conflicts was spent compiling thick, encoded dossiers on every person with an ounce of power or influence. One facet the files covered, in extreme detail, was sexual histories and habits and patterns. Azriel knew each mistress by name, which would talk if offered enough coin, and which of those would tell the truth. He knew the routes of rings of merchants trading in flesh and how to unravel their supply chain link-by-link if he needed answers. He knew which rumors were humiliating or damning enough to force an opponent's hand and where to find rock-solid evidence that they were true.

Hell, he and Cassian were jointly threatened with their predilection for sharing females often enough that Rhys told them to knock it off after just a few years as High Lord. Watching the vein throb in his forehead when he discovered the new rumors kicked up around Velaris during his absence had been equal parts amusing and concerning.

Sometimes in the act of collecting information, though, the line between mark and master blurred. Habit often overruled common sense.

On this, Azriel tried not to moralize too much. All information was useful information eventually.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that knowing Nesta's sexual history went beyond privacy infringement and dove headlong into the clotted, red-tinged waters of violation.

The best example was this: the entire city knew how she got drunk and lost her maidenhead. The male who took it went back to the tavern where she picked him up and got chatty after a few drinks. Azriel himself learned of it not through spies or shadows, but a trashy Velaris society paper on display at a newsstand beside the Sidra. Cassian and Feyre lost their minds over it, and even Amren had looked a bit nauseous on Nesta's behalf.

Elain reacted with the abject horror that only a formerly human female might feel watching her sister's honor thoroughly slandered in the press. Azriel didn't have the heart to tell her that Nesta's honor was not the reason thick bands of Rhys's magic kept Cassian caged in the study like a ravenous, pacing tiger. Not until Rhys disappeared to find Nuala and Cerridwen and order them to burn every copy they could find had Feyre said what they were all thinking.

Azriel spent that day in a familiar haze of wrath, determining which underground printing press published the rag and hunting down the dishonorable male.

"Only to face charges in a court of law. He's as good as damned himself, and our journalists should know better than this," Rhys had warned, following him out of the River House where Cassian and Feyre seethed on. The stars in his eyes had guttered out, and he clenched the collar of Azriel's leathers in an fist so tight it bruised. "We need to set an example with them. I don't want to see a single scratch."

It was a convenient time for his brother to develop a sense of restraint, he thought, but Cassian had stayed Azriel's hand with Eris Vanserra for so many centuries, too; he was sure Cass, when he calmed down, would also insist on leaving the male alive. Not to face the Night Court's already brutal justice system, but to face Nesta's vengeance in addition to whatever justice Rhysand's favorite judge meted out, should she ever wake up from the self-destructive fugue state she existed in and desire it.

So Azriel found the sorry bastard, left him whimpering and speechless in the darkest cell in city's jail, and delivered plausible deniability to the Inner Circle on a silver platter. Leaving evidence was an amateur mistake, anyway.

The shadows took an interest that day, and Azriel worked hard to keep them out of her apartment. She was so vehemently opposed to Cassian checking up on her; how would she react to the spymaster's cronies tracking her?

Those efforts didn't wash the stain of knowing—and of Nesta not knowing that he did—from Azriel's soul.

And Nesta and Cassian, together…

Well, they hardly made a secret of enjoying each other. Sometimes Azriel thought they got off on the risk of being caught.

And, somehow, the permanent addition of Nesta to their neat little equation changed everything in the past two weeks. It was as if the shadows could scent their newly reciprocated bond as well as Azriel—and as if they were just as intoxicated by it. It was nothing like Rhys and Feyre's too-sweet citrus and pear or the pungent aroma of Elain's bond with Lucien: wilted, rotting jasmine on the hottest day of the year. No, Nesta and Cassian were all clean snow and freshly forged steel, underscored by the lavender soap Nesta preferred.

If the shadows possessed any logic behind their sudden fixation, they didn't tell Azriel. They merely acted.

Rhys mocked Nesta, scenting so strongly of her mating bond that Azriel had nearly stumbled, in front of her sisters? The shadows snapped their leash and tried to drag him into the endless dark.

The unholy silver fire that heralded Death raged in Nesta's eyes flashed at him? They tried to hold her hand.

She ground his cracked-open heart beneath her heel with a pale imitation of the mating ceremony he so badly wanted? The shadows swarmed.

Cassian lingered in the doorway while Azriel went to Nesta? A shadow stayed by his side until he joined them.

Once he realized what they were doing, Azriel barely held them off for the long week alone with Nesta. In the end, it was easier to just be with her whenever he was in the House, rather than attempt to control them. Even without the shadows’ help, he could tell what she was doing every night in Cassian’s bed. All week, quiet little whimpers and the pure scent of her arousal permeated the House, teasing him on every breath of wind.

In here, Shadowsinger, shadows whispered whenever his attention slipped, trying to drag him to the door. Several times, they had consumed him and pulled him halfway down the hall before he realized what happened, whispering, Death needs you, Shadowsinger. Don't deny her.

He thought he might get some relief when Cassian came back, and he was wrong when they returned with, The General worries, Shadowsinger. He misses. He wants. They need you, Shadowsinger.

He ignored them, but without fail, his cock swelled, imagining Nesta in the countless time-blurred memories of himself and Cassian indulging in a female together. Azriel could do nothing but make a nightly ritual of submerging himself in a cold bath and biting down on a fist to silence himself while he weathered the sickening, painful pull in his chest.

He was a gods-damned sick bastard for it. Elain’s sister. His best friend’s mate.

The General, the General, the General. Here he comes, his shadows sang as familiar footsteps sounded, interrupting his familiar downward spiral into guilt.

Oblivious to Azriel's self-loathing, Cassian sauntered into the dining room, kicking out his usual chair with a grating screech. He fell into it with his usual rough grace and slouched against the high back, legs spread wide and wings drooping lazily.

The very picture of a freshly mated male.

Content, the shadows said. Good.

Azriel swallowed back a fresh wave of self-loathing.

"How's Briallyn this morning?"

Cassian swiped the two fingers branded with fresh bargain ink through a baked berry custard and deposited them in his mouth. He grinned smugly as he sucked the custard off.

Azriel didn’t fight the childish instinct to roll his eyes. "Still cloistered in that damn palace."

"And Mor?" Another swipe. Another lick.

"Still listening for news about that damn palace," Azriel said as he leaned across the table, staring Cassian in the eyes as he did, and slid the dish out of his immediate reach. Anything to ignore the perverse desire that welled up in him to be the one licking something else off of them.

Cassian grinned again, and Azriel braced for impact.

"And Rhys?" he asked, with all the subtlety and tact of a hungry river wraith.

Azriel controlled the urge to wince. So, Cassian had figured him out after watching him all week. More likely, though, Nesta told him.

Azriel shrugged. "Still pushing me to spend more time staring at that damn palace."

Cassian nodded and wiped his fingers off on the hem of his tunic, dodging the napkin the House threw at his head.

Nesta's creature, Azriel thought with no small amount of vindication.

The plate in front of Cassian was filled with sausages and eggs and a colorful riot of steamed vegetables. Azriel watched, making sure his control over his shadows was unbreakable, as Cassian started filling the plate at the seat beside him with the same, perching an added blueberry scone on the edge.

His eyes were soft when they returned to Azriel's, and the pull in his chest bloomed into a heart-wrenching ache. "And you, Az?"

Azriel imagined what he might say.

Rhys won't, but do you think Feyre would be kind enough to wipe my mind of the things the shadows tell me about you every morning?

I tried to bed Elain at Solstice, Rhys handed me my ass, and now my shadows want me to fuck you and your mate instead.

There is a line, right? Between sharing anonymous one-night-stands and sleeping with your mate?

I think I broke Nesta's little sister's heart and now I want Nesta.

Elain didn't deserve that. You don't deserve this.

At the very least, Nesta would put him out of his misery like the rabid dog he was for one transgression or another soon. He dipped his spoon into his stolen custard, trying and failing not to think about where Cassian's fingers had been this morning. For the time being, Azriel decided, if he couldn’t be a good friend, he would at least do his due diligence for his court.

So he redirected. “I think I should be asking you.”

Annoyance tightened the corners of Cassian's mouth, the smallest of shadows appearing to caress the lines there, but he shrugged. “About what?”

“It’s been a week," Azriel told him. Are you going to tell me why you're watching me? "And you've been so focused on running the Valkyries through the Qualifier that you haven't said anything about the Illyrians who will actually participate."

"Am I supposed to believe you don't already know?" Cassian's voice was dry. Bitter, the shadow by his mouth returned to tell Azriel, but he already knew. Cassian had been furious this time last year when he and Rhys revealed what they knew about the Illyrian rebels—and what they had hidden from Cassian.

"You usually tell me anyway. Any reason you're not this year?"

Death, the shadows sighed, and Azriel ordered them away. Ominous little bastards.

Cassian snorted. "Because you couldn't care less."

"Fair." Azriel hadn't cared about the Blood Rite since he touched the obelisk atop Ramiel during his own. Change of subject, then. Something innocuous... something distracting. "Are you going to brag about your sex bargain, or should I wait for the magic to stop your heart when you don’t make Nesta scream loud enough to wake Velaris every evening?”

Wrong subject.

The shadows tittered.

“That would never happen.” The corner of Cassian’s mouth lifted with a smug, rakish grin Azriel knew too well. “And don’t tell her it’s that obvious, but I don’t think I will.”

Azriel made a mental note to leash his shadows more tightly in the evenings once the tug of envy in his chest abated.

“Can I trust that you haven’t roped any death gods or shadow monsters into your relationship as a mating present, at the very least?” he finally asked, pressing his own fingertips hard into his temples. Perhaps Rhys wasn’t here to feel the sting of that barb, but it still felt good.

A shocked bark of laughter burst from Cassian. He stared at Azriel, eyes glittering, until Azriel scowled back, and then he threw his head back, laughing harder.

“It’ll fade in a few days,” Cassian said between rasping chuckles as he fought to catch his breath. "Don't you worry."

A whisper of silk in the hall caught Azriel’s attention.

Death, the shadows sighed again.

Nesta, sleep mussed and clad in a long, dove-grey robe, shuffled into the dining room, slippered feet peeking out beneath her hem with every step. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, tangled and much longer than he imagined, curling over her full breasts and down to her waist in gentle waves. She looked more comfortable in her own skin than Azriel had ever seen her.

Had she gone back to sleep for a few hours after wearing herself out this morning?

She hid a yawn behind her own tattooed fingers and then traced them under one eye, blinking hard as she stepped into the sunlight streaming into the room. The bright rays gilded her hair, shimmering off of her robe like the last wash of moonlight before dawn.

Azriel blinked.

"Good morning, sweetheart." Cassian extended an arm to her, shifting to sit fully upright as she surveyed the table. A little smile touched her lips when she saw the full plate beside his own.

When she reached her mate, Nesta bent at the waist, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. The blatant show of affection was new, but more surprising was the way the movement exposed her perfect, unbound breasts; Azriel even caught a glimpse of her smooth stomach as her robe and nightgown gaped.

She had a dark freckle beside her navel, and he wondered what it might be like to kiss it. He remembered the feeling of the supple curve of her waist beneath his hand from the ball in the Hewn City, her small, strong hand in his, and imagined what that hand in his hair might feel like as he held her waist again and knelt between her legs...

The stain grew darker.

He cleared his throat. Had she seen him? Or had she forgotten he was present?

But Nesta hardly started at the reminder. She pulled away from her mate, smiling a greeting across the table, Azriel very carefully stared into her eyes as he nodded back.

Ignoring him, Cassian pulled out her chair and ushered her to begin eating.

"What's all this?" she asked after a bite of eggs, staring between them. All the affection in the world couldn't lessen the wary suspicion radiating off of her in waves.

Cassian wiggled the fingers clutched around his own fork. "Az is worried that we bound ourselves to death gods and shadow monsters with our bargain."

Nesta's cheeks pinked, but Az could see a scowl threatening at the reminder of Rhys's existence. The sweet, savage strength of her solidarity with him against their High Lord soothed him.

Then a small smirk turned up her lips, and she said, "Well, I don't know about death gods..."

The boom of Cassian's laughter echoed off the stone walls, oblivious to the surprise Azriel felt. Nesta wasn't, and she turned the full power of that smirk on him, one sculpted brow lifted in challenge.

"You're going to be worse than him," Azriel warned her.

"Going to be?" Nesta picked up her scone and took a bite. As she chewed, she lifted herself out of her seat and leaned over the table, unknowingly exposing herself again as she stole back the custard.

Cassian leaned in to smack a fond kiss against her cheek as resettled herself and wet tip of her tongue peeked out, tracing the corners of her pink lips in search of crumbs. Azriel clenched every muscle to suppress a shudder, and nearly groaned with frustration as his cock twitched anyway. He focused on keeping his breathing steady as he looked away, forced his shadows to gather around the cuffs of his leathers and his pulse points—any spot that might amplify and project the scent of his sudden arousal.

Safe, ensconced in his shadows, he allowed himself a moment to marvel at her. At them. Blunt, brutal Cassian with an arm around sharp, powerful Nesta. A sword and a dagger from the same forge, both wicked and deadly and perfectly matched.

And Azriel, adept at wielding both—

He refused to entertain it. If not for his own sake, then to avoid the horrific death they would wreak upon him. He collected his reports and the shredded remains of his dignity in one scarred hand.

There is strength in knowing when you are beaten, he told himself as he pushed back from the table and beat a hasty retreat for the door.

Nesta started, asking something about whether or not he'd eaten—yes, that was his empty, untouched plate, wasn't it? So much for not leaving evidence—but he waved her off with the stack in his hand.

Cassian wasn't looking at him. His eyes were flicking between the dark shadows ringing Azriel's wrists and knees.

He made it to the hall before the remaining shadows in the dining room left Nesta and Cassian at the table and caught up to him.

The General knows.

Azriel swatted at the shadow, hissing a dark, "Yes, thank you, I gathered that," back.

-----

That afternoon, Nesta returned from the library grateful for Cassian's hellish obstacle course.

If not for the brutal ache in her muscles, she might have climbed the stairs with an embarrassingly girlish skip in her step. Still, she couldn't deny her good mood.

Sometime after the Solstice, the entire world seemed to shift. She felt free. Freer than she had been for years.

She had a net beneath her to catch her if she stumbled or fell, woven with the same brilliant threads of her new bracelet. Gwyn and Emerie, Azriel and Cassian, the priestesses... They would stand by her. That they trusted that she would do the same for them warmed her when she doubted herself.

After passing a relatively peaceful holiday together, she even allowed herself to wonder if Feyre and Elain might feel the same way someday. Elain did, once, but she didn't anymore. Nesta wasn't sure if Feyre had ever felt safe around her; now, though, she was determined to change that, and she possessed the tools to change that. Even if the path was rocky, even if she still harbored some resentment over it, she was grateful.

Her body and mind were a less vicious place to be, too. She didn't feel like she was fighting the muscles in her face whenever she smiled, and even laughter came easier to her, bubbling up and out instead of scraping her throat raw. Rather than being consumed by mind-numbing lethargy or chasing the feeling out by inflicting monstrous hangovers on herself, she was happy. Waking up every morning was exciting. The library beneath the House put the Rainbow to shame, filled with brilliant leather covers in every color and titles stamped in gold foil. Even sex, even Cassian—neither came part-and-parcel with the gut-roiling sickness of guilt and regret anymore.

And Cassian... She could feel herself softening even more around him. The softest, tenderest part of her heart still squeezed at the memory of him calling himself her friend in the Prison. The bond between them only grew stronger with every night she spent in his bed—or he in hers. He made a habit of kissing her temple and tracing the tattoo inking her spine until she fell asleep every night, whispering quiet stories into her ear until she drifted off. Her spine didn't crawl with the feeling of being undeserving of him nearly as often as it once had.

She would have bad days. She knew that. But for now...

Just blissful, golden contentedness.

Even the shadowy corners in the deepest halls of the House seemed softer, as if they were beckoning her closer. Cassian seemed to sense it too, because he took full advantage of them.

Case in point: she turned the corner onto the final landing at the top of the stairs, and his strong body pinned her against the wall.

"Let's talk," he purred in the dark voice that made her want to crawl to hear more, bunching her skirts around her waist with one hand and pushing her undergarments to the side. The other wasted no time pulling her leg around his waist.

"About what?" Her hand grasped his shoulder, seeking some sort of leverage as he cupped her ass and lifted her.

He growled, catching her wrist and pressing her harder into the wall while he unbuttoned his pants, and bared his teeth in a feral grin. Trapped, right where he wanted her. "Weddings or Azriel."

Her mind emptied of thought.

Weddings.

Whatever kept prompting him to use marriage as a bizarre form of foreplay couldn't be serious, but a fantasy flashed in front of her eyes: herself, fucked out and hopelessly shattered, gasping out ideas as he made her plan a wedding while he fucked her against this wall.

Herself, in the white wedding dress she had pictured since she was old enough to daydream, pushed against a wall in some hidden alcove behind the altar where they were married, coming around his cock.

Cassian sunk two fingers into her, and she shivered.

"Talk to me, Nes."

"Azriel," she finally gasped, trying and failing to compose herself as he licked a long stripe up her neck to the spot behind her ear. Her eyes closed and her head fell back. "Az. He was strange this morning. How is he?"

She must have imagined the flicker of disappointment in his lust-blown eyes when she opened her own. Whatever he was thinking, his hand didn't let up, fingers curling against the sweet spot deep inside her, and his mouth found hers before she could backtrack, pressing a hard kiss to it before he said, "I don't know."

Nesta watched, blinking hard, as Cassian removed his soaked fingers from her, swiped them up and down his cock, and licked them clean. "You... you don't know?"

"He didn't tell me." Cassian positioned himself, made sure she was watching, and sunk into her to the hilt. Nesta gasped at the sweet, burning stretch of her innermost walls, and he buried his face in her neck, breathing hard before saying, "I told you. Az doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve."

"Of course he didn't tell you," she said, gripping a handful of his hair at the roots and pulling back to look him in the eyes. "I thought you were watching him."

"Gods, you sound just like him." He slammed into the spot inside of her at the same time his pelvis dragged against her clit, and Nesta clenched around him. Cassian groaned, his teeth bared. "Waiting and watching won't work. He’ll... He'll need a friend. Someone willing to build rapport."

Nesta tightened her legs around his waist, desperate to keep him there. "You're his friend. You have five centuries of rapport."

Cassian laughed, dark and low, and her stomach erupted with butterflies. He pushed his hips into hers again, watching her squirm, and dipped his head, tangling their tongues. He drank from her, unrelenting until she moaned for—

For air, for relief, for the orgasm she was chasing. She didn't know.

"A lot can happen in five centuries," was all he said when he finally granted her a reprieve. Then, after another filthy kiss and a hard thrust that left her reeling, "Az responds best to a female touch, anyway."

Fuck. Fuck.

A needy whimper escaped from Nesta's throat before she could do anything to stop it.

It was the morning after Solstice all over again, her body betraying the strange, unfulfilled desperation she had felt that week—the one that still lingered and tugged after Cassian finished with her every night, if she was being honest with herself. A new rush of wetness slicked her thighs as a wave of the same heated, insatiable lust burned hotter beneath her breast.

Cassian swallowed the whimper with a kiss but paused, no doubt feeling her traitorous, unfaithful reaction. Shame washed over her, almost eclipsing the inescapable sense of fullness as he fucked her.

A gentle tug behind her ribs guided her attention back to him. She found no hate, no disgust, just...

Dark, intense curiosity.

He looked fascinated.

No, he looked...

Nesta's lips parted.

Bewitched. He looked bewitched. Infatuated, even.

His thrusts slowed until he was merely holding her against the wall and grinding against her, turning every small movement into a torturous drag against her clit. The hands on her hips tightened, and she knew they would bruise.

His gaze was steady, unflinching, and as open and earnest as she had ever seen it. "Does that interest you? Az?"

With every second that passed without answer, the tattoo on her hand burned hotter. Her tongue was tied, though, and she couldn't think of how to answer: admit to her failure, her infidelity, or wipe away the enraptured look on Cassian's face?

She could feel his pulse thrumming alongside hers, his blood hot.

He curled his hand around her ample backside, giving it a squeeze. Reassurance. He lowered his head to hers, pausing to busk a soft kiss over her heated cheek. "Have you ever imagined it, love?"

Love.

Love, love, love, her thoughts sang. Love. Have you ever imagined it, love?

Her fantasies from the earliest days in the House returned to the front of her mind, mostly the same but... different, as well. Familiar thoughts of being utterly consumed, of Azriel rocking into her and each movement sending Cassian deeper into her throat. These were underscored with images of herself and Az tangled together under a second set of wings. A scarred hand wrapped around her throat as she sank onto Cassian's cock, pretty male lips stealing a kiss as Nesta moaned, being cradled against a chest marked with entirely unfamiliar tattoos. The same shadows that curled around his shoulders teasing her breasts, between her legs...

A little shockwave rocked through her, and she had to lock her legs around Cassian to keep from falling.

"I have," Cassian breathed into her ear when the burning on their fingers began to truly hurt, nipping the lobe. He hoisted her up and held her against the wall with the bulk of his body, smiling when she moaned at the shift in the angle, raising one hand to trace the panicked pulse fluttering at her throat with a calloused thumb. "I think about it a lot. I think Az does too."

"Azriel—" He thrust again when she said Az's name, and she moaned. "You two... talk about me?"

"Not like that, sweetheart," he said, lifting that hand to run a soothing caress over her lips. "But he does have some tells."

"Oh," Nesta breathed. What the hell sort of tell indicated that Azriel wanted to fuck someone?

And when had she been stupid enough to miss it?

"You've had two at once before, right?"

She would have been mortified if the hand Cassian kept on her ass didn't wander lower, fingers teasing the spot where they were joined. "I... Yes, but... You were so jealous when you..."

When he saw or scented her other partners anywhere near her apartment. He hardly tried to hide his disdain for them whenever Rhys or Feyre sent him to fetch her. He was always in a far darker mood whenever more than one distinct scent was present.

"They weren't Az," he rumbled against her skin, dipping his head to taste her again.

Huh. Nesta's thoughts ground to a halt. No, Cassian had never been jealous of Az, had he? Not during training, not at the ball, not in bed...

"Come on, Nes. You think you're up for that? For Az?”

He picked up his pace again. With the first hard slam of his hips into hers, the filthy sound of wet skin against skin echoed through the hall, and the pieces clicked together.

"A lot can happen in five hundred years, hmm?" she asked, and Cassian's answering rumble made her knees go weak. The pressure, the sweet draw and release, started to build up between her thighs, and the rest of her legs followed suit, trembling hard around him. "Would he? Be up for that?"

Azriel was so reserved, after all. Like nearly everyone else in Velaris, she saw him send longing stares after Mor and then Elain. He hadn't bothered to seek either out in weeks, however; Nesta was surprised when he spent so many nights in the House with her after Solstice, instead of humoring Elain's culinary experiments and wandering the new night-blooming section of her garden with her.

Would it make her a bad person to fuck Azriel when he wanted Elain? Elain hadn't indicated to Nesta whether she returned Azriel's affection...

"Oh, sweetheart, I know he would." Cassian's fingers rolled over her clit, and she moaned again.

Have you ever imagined it, love?

"Cassian," she said, her mind reeling. This was happening, she told herself. This wasn't some bizarre dream, and she hadn't fallen down the stairs up from the library and hit her head. All she could do was hold tight to the golden tether between them, flaring with shared lust, and send the strange, excited gratitude she was feeling down it. "Cassian..."

"Say his name, Nesta." Gods, gods, he sounded desperate, like he- like he really wanted it. Like he needed it to get off this time. Nesta's eyes rolled back, and her head hit the wall. "Say his name while you come, sweetheart. Say it."

"Az," she gasped, her back arching and pressing her breasts into the hard lines of Cassian's leathers. Would Azriel's feel the same? "Az."

"Full thing, Nes. Azriel. Say it," Cassian growled, his pace starting to stutter and falter as she tightened around him.

The tension within her snapped, and Nesta moaned his name as she came, "Azriel. Azriel."

Was that her voice? That frantic, frenzied sound?

Cassian shouted when he came, wings flaring with a single, deafening beat. He thrusted hard once, twice, pulsing within her, and she shivered, filled with heat from the inside out. For once, the tug in her chest lessened.

He held her for a long moment, trailing sweet kisses over her neck and shoulder. When her legs stopped shaking, he pulled out of her and set her on her feet gently, righting her skirts and wrapping strong arms around her.

“Azriel doesn't break," he murmured into her hair.

Nesta blinked, shaking off the mind-bending what was left of him trickling down her thigh. "Hmm?"

"If you think you'll get answers out of him by fucking him, you won't. He doesn't break," Cassian said again, smoothing down the back of her hair. "You'll need to be gentle with him, let him take charge, and maybe he'll start to let things slip."

"Oh."

When he spoke next, his voice was gentle, hesitant—allowing her to back out of their shared fantasy. "Are you sure you still want to...?"

But, oh. Underneath it, the heat was still there. He was serious. She pulled back to look him in the eyes and found the same enraptured look from before.

Nesta didn't bother hiding her surprise. "You'll let me?"

"I don't let you do anything, Nes," Cassian chuckled. "I've learned that much. I just ask that you let me participate, let me moderate. You and Az both tend to get a little... intense."

Nesta's core clenched again at the thought that Cassian knew what Azriel was like, and she pressed her thighs together.

"And Az really wants to do this?"

"Believe me, he does. Who wouldn't?" Cassian bent, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers. "But there is a catch, sweetheart."

"What?"

A wicked grin slashed across his face. "Az won't be gentle back."

The hall went silent or her heart stopped beating or perhaps the world stopped spinning. Everything seemed to still, the moment distilled down to Cassian's dark eyes and the darker shadows in the edges of her vision.

"Fuck," Nesta breathed, dragging him in for a kiss. Cassian would know, wouldn't he? How hard she liked it, how addicted she was to feeling a male pounding into her with abandon, biting as he ate her and smacking her when she begged and pulling her hair while he came down her throat?

Cassian laughed into her mouth and bent, draping her weak knees over his arm and lifting. He carried her to his room and dropped her onto his bed, stripping her dress from her. He strategized while he fucked her, sounding more like the general she knew in the war tents than her lover. He shared what he knew—of safe words and power exchanges and Azriel's preferred methods for restraining his partners—while she shuddered apart. When she asked for more, he gave it to her, recounting stories from their youth while she knelt before him and tasted herself on his cock. He decided when Az would be most receptive, when their chances were best, and she came on his tongue.

They lay together, picking at the dinner the House delivered to them long after the sun set, the tether between them thrumming happily.

#nessian #nessriel #nesta archeron #cassian #azriel #shadowsinger #acotar #fic #fanfic #viciousnessintelligencefic #giving azriel a happy ending one way or another with his two favorite clowns #my fics #psssst this chapter AND the next one are up on ao3 now!#chapter 5 will be uploaded to tumblr in ~1-3 days otherwise

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