#A Court of Questions side page

[gwynlain]

The ship to end all shipping wars

May I present: Gwynlain

All aboard, all are welcome! <3

And this blog to fandom about it because iltsm & I know SJM will never go down this path… But, I shall captain the gay Gwynlain ship if I must, so we all can sail off into the sunset! Please feel free to join me & submit theories, head-canons, fics, fanart, etc.

🌈🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💜🖤🩶🤍🤎💖💜💙❤️🧡🤍💕💜🏳️‍🌈

You can call me Lila (as an anon nickname) or Lavendar (for my main page), she/her, LGBTQIA+ friendly 🩷💜💙, Zillenial. My main blog is @lavendarneverlands, though I’m primarily on my Maasverse blog @acourtofquestions; this is a side page of it🙃☺️

We also LOVE eMORie (Mor x Emerie)

I really do love all the characters (including <3 Az) & I can ship anyone😂 (Elriel/Gwynriel/Elucien/etc.) I just want them all to be happy… & As we await the next book, here’s a ship that makes ME happy!😊🫶

*not here to dispute ships, characters, or come at any fans/other shippers, so please be kind & love our fellow fans*

Credits for Header image & Profile pic: Venus Folk

[beloveds-embrace]

(p5/final part of fae poly 141 x cursed human reader || masterlist || cw: ANGST) peep the chapter title in the masterlist :D

It came as a quiet- one so deep and vast that even the winds forgot to blow.

The castle knew before anyone. It held its breath, the great hearths snuffing down to embers, the stones cooling beneath its bones. The will-o-wisps blinked out, one by one, not in fear, but reverence- so that today, no one will be led astray. The trees along the garden paths stopped their whispering, leaves still mid-quiver, branches creaking as they turned inward toward the heart of the estate.

Thrain raised his head beneath your chamber window.

The stag, so old and rooted in legend no bard had sung his name rightly in an age, stared skyward as snow began to fall. Slow, soundless. Not cold. Each flake shimmered faintly with magic, with memory. With you.

Inside, the chamber was dim and quiet, lit only by the pale glow of starlight seeping through frost-laced glass. The scent of lavender and winter clover hung in the air, soft and faded like a lullaby remembered from childhood. Curtains, woven with moon-silver threads and embroidered with wards to keep the darker dreams at bay, shifted gently in the breeze that wasn’t there. The room itself seemed to breathe slower now, as if matching your rhythm- one long inhale, one longer silence.

You lay nestled deep beneath layers of velvet and fur, of wildflower-threaded quilts and fae-woven linens that shimmered faintly with old enchantments. Johnny had insisted on them each morning, draping warmth around your ever-fragile frame even when spring had melted the snow and kissed new green into the garden paths. It was his way of trying to keep you rooted here- on this side of the veil.

Your breathing was soft and faint. The curse had slowed in its cruel unraveling, tugged back again and again by the desperate, tireless magic John poured into you. Every drop of power he possessed, every ounce of his life force, siphoned away over the years in hopes of buying you another day, another breath, another smile. It worked for a time.

But nothing lasted forever, and John knew that.

He had known before the sun set.

He sat beside you, unmoving, save for the way his hand combed endlessly through your hair- gentle, reverent, trembling. His other hand held yours, your fingers loose and still, warmed only by his touch. Your head rested against his chest, your face tilted toward the hollow of his throat like a child tucked beneath a parent’s chin. You hadn’t spoken in days, not truly. Only murmured fragments- echoes of half-remembered songs, unfinished questions, and once, the name of a star he hadn’t heard in years. You’d sounded so happy… John’s heart had wanted to tear itself apart.

You were quiet now in the way ancient things are quiet. Like a garden gone to sleep beneath snow, like a book with no more pages left to turn.

John whispered stories to you anyway.

He spoke of the first time you met- how he thought you were too stubborn to survive the fae court and too soft to ever bend it. How wrong he’d been. How the court, the world, and even he had been reshaped around your steady, patient will.

He told you how Simon had found you one morning feeding the ghosts of the orchard, and how Kyle still carried your pressed flower charms in his armor. He recounted Johnny’s latest disaster in the kitchens and how you’d once laughed so hard at him you cried- and gods, how he wished he could hear that sound again. He told you all of it, weaving memory into magic and memory again, as if with enough words, he might stitch your soul into staying.

And as he held you, his voice frayed around the edges.

"I love you," he said. Not for the first time. Not for the last. The words cracked like porcelain dropped from too high a shelf. “Still. Always.”

Your breathing, already shallow, paused, and he stilled in turn.

Then, you sighed- just once. A sound as soft and weightless as the falling of a single petal from a long-dead flower, peace in each strand. A sound of release, a breath unburdened.

And then- you were gone.

No thunder nor flash of light, and no violent wrenching. Just absence- the soul's candle guttered in silence.

Your fingers slipped from his. Your warmth, so long faint, faded fully. Your face went still in the most peaceful way, a small smile carved on your cheeks like something ancient had simply returned to the earth it loved. The faintest glow that had always clung to your skina your humanity tempered with magic, your life steeped in love- shimmered once, and then dimmed like a star blinking out.

John did not move.

He couldn’t even if he wanted to.

The grief did not crash into him; it hollowed him, slowly, like the sea does to cliffside stone. He stared down at your face, memorizing what he already knew. The curve of your lips. The flutter of lashes against your cheek. The small scar on your jaw from where you’d once fallen in the Queen’s Gardens.

John did not weep even if several tears tracked down into his beard. His hands, too strong to tremble in battle, now trembled with the soft weight of your body in his arms. He could not weep, for he knew this- this was your peace. He had done his best to find a cure, but- life was not kind.

A low, resonant groan echoed through the castle, neither man-made nor fae.

The very walls- alive with magic older than time itself- mourned you. A wail of stone and a s sigh of timbers. Crystals embedded in the ceiling chimed once and shattered and the lights in the sconces flickered to ash. The wind outside did not howl- but it bent, as if bowing low to the one it had once braided through wildflower hair.

And still, John did not let you go.

He held you through the coming dark, his chest silent but for the uneven quake of breath between shaky breaths, his magic still curled around you like a desperate tether. And for hours, he simply rocked you. As if in this moment, you were still alive. As if holding you long enough might unmake the inevitable.

But death, like magic, answers to no king.

And your body stayed still and at peace.

You had left with no anger in your heart, no hatred nor guilt. You left only love, quiet and worn and fierce- threaded through every inch of the man who now mourned you.

A soul as lovely as yours could never die cruelly.

It simply… drifted home, and John understood that even if he felt something shatter so deeply it echoed across every realm.

You were gone.

No cry and no shudder, just the soft parting of a thread from a tapestry.

Later, it was Simon who walked in first. He did not speak, only looked at John- stone-eyed and trembling, and knelt beside the bed to touch your cooling hand. Kyle arrived moments later, lips parted as if he might beg you to wake. But his voice failed him and so he sat on the floor, pressing a kiss to your palm and weeping quietly into your skirts.

Johnny didn’t believe it.

He shook his head, muttering, “No, no, not yet, not today, she promised she’d stay-” over and over, until Simon caught him and held him still while he sobbed like a child.

The castle keened.

The bellflowers shriveled in their hanging baskets. The ivy browned and curled. The air itself bent with sorrow, and the spirits of the hallways- kindly, playful little creatures- huddled in corners, their small eyes wide with grief.

Outside, Thrain bowed his antlers low and walked slowly through the gates of the high keep. His hooves did not echo and no one stopped him.

He climbed the stairs, impossible though they were for a creature of his size, until he stood in the doorway of your chamber. And all the men- wounded and raw and grieving- stepped aside for they knew.

He had come for you.

With reverence, Thrain knelt beside your bed. He took in your face- still so gentle, still so full of grace, even in death. He pressed his massive muzzle to your chest and for a moment, nothing happened.

Then, with a breath of magic so quiet even the fae barely felt it- your soul slipped free like morning sunlight spilling through an open window.

It rose, soft and warm, radiant with the echo of every kindness you’d ever given. Every time you’d kissed a servant’s brow or sung to the garden or asked a crying will-o-wisp what was wrong. Every time you’d called Thrain your dearest friend, every time you’d held hands with the men, and every time you’d forgiven John with that smile- always that smile.

And Thrain caught your tender soul.

Delicate, light as wind through reeds, and glowing like the first star of twilight. He cradled it in a curl of his antlers, the shadows of your memory flickering through the air around him- your laugh, your hum, your gentle little sighs of thought. He stepped carefully back from the bed.

John sank to his knees, and he still did not cry. There was no breath left in him to do so.

Thrain walked. Out of the castle and through the mourning halls, the bowing dryads, the crumbling roses, the silent sprites. Through the gate, down the weeping forest paths, across the river that had frozen at the moment of your death.

He walked and walked, until no living soul would reach his pace and spot.

And when he reached it, the veils parted for him alone, and he stepped into starlight.

The trees there had no bark, only silver and the roots sang hymns and chants. The sky was soft and black and full of ancient light. Thrain stood at the edge of the great pool of souls, and he bent his head low.

He did not let you fall.

He lowered you with gentleness carved from centuries of patience and pain, until your soul touched the surface of the pool like the caress of a mother’s hand.

And the water welcomed you, for you were a memory that would never die. A memory that caressed the space between his antlers just before he returned alone.

And the men- your men- stood at the gates, waiting, and they bowed their heads as he passed.

And John, still dressed in the clothes he wore when you left him, touched the place in the air where your soul had once lingered and whispered, for the last time:

"I love you."

The castle echoed the words for centuries.

And the world, though emptier, remembered you in everything that still dared to be kind.

“Will you still love me when I forget what love is?”

“Always.”

[sir3nsfi1m]

hidden chemistry / paige bueckers

You were nothing if not an honor roll student, rarely skipping classes, head buried between the earthy scented pages of those hefty textbooks, the letters mixing and merging as your eyes would caress the words, blinking harshly as if to unscramble the jumble the mixture.

You weren’t one to be noticed. Forgotten in the back of classrooms, huddled in the dark corner of the hushed library, entangled in the sheets of your familiar bed. You were enclosed in the comfort of your own little corner of the world.

It’s not like you wanted to enclose yourself, cut yourself off with the world. You just didn’t want the technicalities that was arranging a time everyday to devote yourself to every person that you care about. You weren’t rude, you were busy. Stuck between the pages of overfull textbooks with tiny scribbles in the margins, flash cards that you read so many times it almost burned a hole in your irises. You were creating history. Developing new systems everyday to answer the hardest questions the medical field can never seem to answer. Prosthetics, medical imagining systems, bioinstrumentation.

You had no time for anyone else. Not that anyone would devote any of their time to you anyways, from how unavailable you presented yourself, you would be surprised if anyone even dared a glance at you.

But then again, when you aren’t tearing your eyes from those damned pages, you will never see who’s looking your way.

Those bright blue eyes, those furrowed brows, like she’s cutting into you so deep she’s discovering a new meaning to the way you exist. The way you close yourself off, the way you barely glance up as people walk so close to you they brush against the fabric of your fleece hoodie you’ve always got one, whether hot or cold.

She hadn’t meant to notice you. Hadn’t meant to keep drifting towards you as she caressed the dust-covered shelves of the unfamiliar hushed library she barely frequented just a couple months ago.

She was light. Spotlight in the middle of the court, drawing eyes to her even thousands of miles away through electrical devices. Conversations with her name whispered across lips, statistics and pregame interviews, articles and post-game reports. People follow her, no matter where she goes.

She reveled in the spotlight, mostly. As much as she could before her palms got sweaty and her head started to shake with the pressure of millions of eyes dawning on her. She claimed her spot within her life a while ago, but after a while, it became more than just her playing the sport she loves.

It became making a whole new persona. Media training, basically telling her to hold back her emotions no matter how deep they cut wounds into her. Already drawn up answers to the repeated questions she’s asked everyday just rewritten in ways she couldn’t even understand. Criticism she has to roll off her shoulders because she’s stronger than to let someone undermine her life’s work all because she had one shitty game.

It was cliche maybe, but sitting here in the opposite side of the quiet library, a book she knew nothing about laying open to a random page as she snuck glances at you, she felt different. Like she wasn’t being seen for once. Like she had the pleasure of seeing someone else. Not her name lit up on a scoreboard, not her face plastered over the walls.

She didn’t make it creepy, of course. She never took photos, she never stared for elongated periods of time. She was gentle, as if one wrong move and you would disappear from her sights.

She didn’t know what it was about you that just drew her in. Maybe it was the mystery? The not knowing of who you are, what your name is, if you even go to school there. Maybe it was the quiet, like she was looking at a painting among a gallery that just sat out amongst the others.

Some days, she wondered what would happen if she walked up to you and asked you what your name was. Other days, she didn’t even bother showing up to the library because she knew her nerves would never let her unstick her feet from the padded carpet over to your corner.

Some days, she felt stupid pining over a girl who probably didn’t even know she existed.

Ever oblivious, you would show up at the quiet library at approximately 8:30 am almost every day if you could, other days you would camp out in your dorm, your roommates clearing out for morning classes and friend gatherings.

You prided yourself in your work, in the way that you wouldn’t let distractions tear you from your creations, how you stuck with a plan and never once backed down no matter how hard it got.

However, sometimes, you wondered what it would be like to have someone look at you and tell you they were proud of you. Or maybe even just look at you.

You would internally scoff at the pda plastered over love-stricken college kids as you walked past them, you would cringe at the corny Instagram captions with the photos of entangled lips and promises of forever.

But sometimes, you wondered what it would be like.

What it would feel like to have someone look at you. To have someone sit and listen to you drone on and on about biomedical engineering and engineering principles. To have someone see you for more than your work. To have someone say they want to be with you forever.

You were too much to handle for yourself, however, so how you someone else handle you?

Your eyes lock.

It was accidental. The first time you had looked up for your lecture that day. The second she had looked over to you just to get one last look before she decided she felt like she was being creepy and was going to put down her book (the biography of someone?) and head back to her dorm.

But your eyes locked.

Your eyes were quiet, like your aura. Like everything she had seen when she looked at you. Tranquility, silence, peace. Your eyes resembled your soul, shining brighter than any court had in the past 20 years.

Paige thought she was doomed.

Not because you had seen her, but because she never wanted to look away. She wanted to know you, wanted to see you, wanted to talk to you and never shut up.

And as if you had spoke it into the universe, someone was looking at you. Not at the wall behind you, not at the edge of the table, not at the girl giggling with her friends in the corner.

At you.

That hidden chemistry, that fading spark lingering between two souls on either side of that library, finally unraveling in a swirl of emotions.

[mikoluvsblondes]

hi love!! I was wondering if you could do Emily x dancer!reader? Like reader used to compete in competitions when they were younger. And Emily visits readers family and their mom is showing off readers old competition photos and awards and reader gets embarrassed? I really hope this made sense!!

Not That Picture!

Emily Engstler x dancer! reader

i didnt know if you meant Emily to be a friend visiting or a girlfriend so i just assumed that you meant girlfriend. hope you like it!

warnings: nothing really

You have lived away from your family for a few years, only getting to see them on holidays. Even though you missed them everyday, you were happy with where dancing had taken you: into your girlfriend, Emily's arms. You stopped dancing years ago, but still cherished the memories of your family coming to watch your performances. Finally, you were able to visit them again, with Emily by your side.

As you step out of the airport, you're met with the smiling faces of your parents'. You run over to them, quickly engulfing them in a hug. Emily follows your lead, attempting to give them awkward side hugs ,but instead your parents pull her into a warm comforting hug.

Your parents drive both of you to the home you grew up in, bombarding you two with questions, funny stories, and dad jokes the entire time.

When you get there, your dad goes to finish dinner and your mom decides that now is a perfect time to give Emily a house tour of your home. She takes her all over the house, showing off the pictures on the wall and trinkets shes collected over the years.

As your mother takes both of you to your childhood bedroom, a wave of nostalgia washes over you(like it always does), seeing that everything is still the same way it has always been. Your mom points to the medals and awards you've earned through dancing.

"How did you two meet?" your mom glances at you "She's never mentioned it." your mom turns to Emily with a smile.

Emily looks to you nervously before finding the words to answer and smiling back at your mom. "I actually met her when we were in college. She was dancing at one of my games." Emily rubs the back of her neck and you can see in her eyes that shes reliving the moment you two first made eye contact from across the court.

"...dancing huh?" your mom looks to the bookshelf with photo albums from your old dance competitions. She walks over to it and grabs it.

"Oh my god. Mom, no." you chase after her trying to swat the book out of her hands before realizing that your mother is going to do whatever it takes to show everyone her "favorite on dance moms" as she liked to call you.

"It wouldn't hurt to show them to her. She obviously likes to see you dance." your mom jokes lightly and both you and Emily's eyes widen as a pink stripe covers over face with a nervous laugh.

Emily sits on the bed next to your mom as she looks at every picture your mom shows her, nodding and smiling to every story and explanation of each picture.

"Here. This one's my favorite." your mom says, flipping the page. And that's how you knew she got to that one picture you were dreading for her to show Emily: A picture of you in a bright purple and neon yellow costume covered feathers. You rub your face with your hands in embarrassment as you prepare for Emily to see that awful monstrosity of a picture.

Though your girlfriend actually finds it quite cute to see you as a little kid in your competition pictures, she has trouble holding her laughter in when looking at this one. She puts a hand over her mouth, trying to stop the laughter that sputters out from between her fingers. You stare at your girlfriend as she repeatedly looks to you then to the picture in disbelief.

"Can you tell why this one's my favorite? Always gets a laugh ouf of someone." your mom laughs.

"You're embarrassing me." you groan.

"That's just my job." your mom shrugs.

Emily leans over to rub your arm "They were cute pictures, really."

[grim-reapers-wife]

My first fanfic! So I’m starting out simple and small with who else but Loki 💚🖤

Summary- Loki thinks that y’all are together since the Asgardian tradition is to court before marriage, like being in a relationship, and it is typically not announced. Thor finds out and teaches him the Midgard way of courtship, and that y’all aren’t officially together until he asks you.

Don’t mind any grammatical errors! I’m not a professional by any means. 😅. Enjoy!

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I walk into the library where Loki and I hang out most days, he’s reading an Asgardian book again for the third time this week. “Are you seriously reading that book again?” I question and sit down in the spot on the couch next to him. “Why yes I am, darling. Are you questioning my reading habits?” He marks the page and sets it down on the other side of him. “Must be really interesting for you to read it so many times.” I smirk in his direction. “Quite. You should read it sometime.” Loki says smirking right back “Oh wait, that’s right; you don’t speak Asgardian. Hmm, what a shame, darling.” He picks up the book again and begins to read. We drift into a comfortable silence while read my own book for a case that Tony has me working.

*buzz buzz*

I pick up my phone “Shoot.” I fire off a couple of messages before Loki looks over. “Everything okay, darling?” He sets his book aside. “Yeah everything’s fine I’m just a little late for a lunch with my friend. I’ll catch you later, mkay?” I grab my things and head out through the library doors.

I arrive at the café 20 minutes late and catch my friend sitting in the corner sipping a coffee. “Sorry I’m late! How are you?” I hug my childhood friend and sit across from him, catching up on everything in his life.

Meanwhile, Loki is still reading his book in the library undisturbed…Until Thor comes barreling in. “Thor, you baboon! Have you no respect for the quiet nature of the library?” He snipes in the other prince’s direction. “Always a pleasure, brother!” Thor walks over to Loki. “I’ll have you know that I come with information with your benefit in mind, brother.” Loki sets his book aside. “Get on with it, I’d like to continue reading.” Thor lazily drapes himself in the chair across from Loki.“I saw y/n chatting with a guy downstairs in the café, I thought y’all were together, brother. Or at least so you’ve told me.” Loki sends a death glare to his brother. “Of course we’re together, what are you on about?” Thor looks at Loki “I’m not sure brother, it looked like a date.” Loki’s brows furrow. “A date? What is that?” Thor sits up straighter. “You know, a date. It’s a tradition here on Midgard, when two people are together romantically they go on outings together.” Loki shakes his head slightly and Thor continues. “You have asked her to officially date you, right brother? On Midgard I believe it is officially called boyfriend and girlfriend. Jane told me about it.” Loki shakes his head. “I- I guess not then. I didn’t know that we were not counting this entire time.” Thor laughs. “Courting? I haven’t heard that word since mother tried to set me up back on Asgard. No, no, that’s not a thing here. To make things official you must ask the lady.” Loki stares down at his hands grasping why his brother has told him.

A couple hours later I finish hanging out with my old friend, and I’m on my way to my room. I turn the key in the lock and push the door open to find Loki sitting on my bed. I jump lightly and gasp. “Loki! Jesus you scared me.” I close the door and walk into my room. “How long have you been here?” He stands up and shakes his head. “That’s not important right now.” He declares, his accent coming out strong. I look at him questioningly. “Are you alright?” He shakes his head. “Were you on- on a date?” He questions and I stare, not expecting that sort of question. “Um,” when I finally regain my senses I answer. “No, I wasn’t on a date, Loki. Is that what’s bothering you?” His shoulders sag with relief and a long breath escapes him. “Thor told me he’d seen you on a date. I didn’t know what that was so he explained. You see, on Asgard; there’s a similar thing called courting. It’s typically not announced and is a short interval of time before marriage. I have believed this whole time that I was courting you but Thor informed me of my ignorance.” I stare in disbelief. He thought we were together? He likes me back? How could he have not known? What does this mean for us now? A million questions fill my head. Loki steps forward and takes my hands. “I did research on this and your Midgardian traditions but forgive me if I do anything wrong. Will you officially court- date, will you officially date me?” I laugh just a little at the sweet gesture and nod my head. “Yes Loki, I thought you’d never ask.” He breaks into a smile wider than I’ve ever seen. “Thank the gods.” He grabs me and spins me around, I laugh like a child. “Loki put me down!” I hit his chest playfully. “He also said something about boyfriends? I don’t fully understand.” I giggle and cover my mouth to stifle the rest of my laughs. “So you’re my boyfriend now, and I’m your girlfriend. Officially as of two seconds ago since you asked me, and I said yes.” He nods his head. “I understand, so no dates with others people?” “Right.” I answer. He nods once more. “I will take you on one of these dates, tonight, yes?” I smile and look up at him. “Sure, that sounds wonderful, Loki.” He walks to my door and stops before he walks away. “I’ll see you then, darling.”

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Thank you SO SO much for reading! If you’ve made it this far I assume you enjoyed. ☺️ If you did I’m so glad and if you didn’t like it feel free to give KIND constructive criticism. I will always accept tips and opinions. Again, this was my first fanfic EVER 🤣 so I’m sure it wasn’t great but lmk! If you have a request I’m 100% open to take it, just be patient with me lol 😆 Byeee!

[bxlladxnnabxtch]

Delaying a Phantom

Rhysand x Reader

❀​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​❀

Summary: Amren grapples with her loyalty to her High Lord and Lady. Meanwhile, said High Lady's fall from grace proves to be a major setback in her journey.

Read pt. 1 of Delaying a Phantom - HERE

Read pt. 6 - HERE

Warnings: Descriptions of injury/disfigurement, Brief mention of trauma flashbacks.

“What the hell are you doing?”

As soon as the trio had winnowed to the House of Wind, Amren had attempted to stage an intervention of some sort, if you could even call it that. It’s not like she was expecting him to drop everything that he was doing, but she was hoping to at least get some answers- or some semblance of a plan. She watched as Rhys tumbled into the first seat he saw, Mor eyeing them wearily.

A groan broke out of him, whether it was from the pain or the spontaneous interrogation, Amren didn’t care. She cocked her head to the side, black bob swaying with the movement. “Well?” Rhys cocked his head up, eyes finally falling on Amren, they flickered over to Morrigan for a second before he said “I am doing what is necessary.”

Amren’s eyebrow rose, and she shot a glance at Mor to find her examining her nailbeds, clearly already withdrawn from the conversation. “Care to input?” She asked, mildly annoyed at Morrigan’s carefree attitude. Morrigan’s head shot up, the blonde giving a non-committal shrug. “I don’t see how I’m involved in this.”

Amren shot her a puzzled look. “Your High Lady just fled your court, this guy-” Amren pointed to Rhys as he shifted in barely concealed pain. “-just brought another High Lords betrothed into our home, and we are on the brink of war. Remind me again how this doesn’t concern you?”

Morrigan shifted on her feet as Amren pointed out her willful ignorance. Her eyes darting between her and her High Lord. Her clear awkwardness had Amren floored. Did she think this didn’t affect her at all? Did she not see how this situation posed a risk to not only you, but the entire status of the Night Court?

Morrigan’s non-answer had Amren releasing a disregarding sigh. “You both need to get your head out of your ass.” She said, grey eyes settling onto Rhys yet again. “And you.” She began, turning her full attention to him. She crouched down, forearms settling on her knees as she squatted. She looked up at his face that was scattered in scuffs and newly forming bruises. She held no sympathy for him, her tone coming out slightly colder than usual. “Is it really worth losing her over this?”

Amren wasn’t about to dive headfirst into a fight between mates, it wasn’t her place. The last thing she wanted to do was take a few pages out of Azriel’s book and start a brawl with Rhys. She seemed to be caught in the middle, her loyalty being pulled taunt between the two of you, and if there was one thing she hated, it was picking sides. But regardless of the situation surrounding your disappearance, you were her High Lady, and she’d be damned if she didn’t at least try to make Rhys realize what he seemed to be doing to you.

Rhys head lolled; his eyes unfocused for a second before they snapped to attention at her question. “It’s worth anything to keep you safe- to keep her safe.” He said, tone laced with a sort of desperation that Amren had never heard come from him. Despite his apparent fretting, Amren scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her.

“Don’t fool yourself, boy. You aren’t doing this for me.”

Azriel’s shadow was more persistent than you’d thought it’d be. No matter how fast you flew, the wind whipping past you and catching on your cheeks, the relentless blow of it stinging your eyes, it was right with you. It zipped around you, clung to you almost like a mother, and despite how at first you found it’s constant presence annoying, you began to enjoy the way it swept around you. After all those years you spent Under the Mountain, you forgot just how much you loved to fly.

I mean, of course, you had flown when you were in the Night Court, but after Under the Mountain, you could never quite bring yourself to let loose. But even before, when you were free to fly whenever you wanted, you were always so busy you either didn’t have the time or used your ability to fulfill your duties. You never really were able to sit and appreciate just how much you loved the feel of it. The way your stomach dipped when you suddenly plummeted, the wind that kissed you and ran its fingers through your hair, and the view.

By the Cauldron, the view.

The lands of the Day Court sprawled out beneath you, rolling fields and steady streams that had a goofy grin plastering its way onto your features. You could see every tree that dotted the fields, the sparse houses that appeared every now and then. This was the closest to peace you had been in a long time. The feeling had you spinning in the air, your wings tucking in to do a complete roll that had butterflies fluttering in your stomach. The sun felt warm on your skin, the cloudless sky not doing much to stop the way it melted into your skin and had a warm, joyous feeling beginning to sprout inside you. Your tattooed hands extended, feeling the wind fighting to press them down back to your sides as you studied the line that separated the sky and the horizon.

A rush of pain violently burned its way down the bond so fast you wailed, your figure seizing.

And then you were plummeting.

You couldn’t get your wings to move, couldn’t will your body to do anything as it continued to lock up. The pain still fought its way through the bond.

Pain cascaded down your back and a choked, pained sound left you again before you hit the first tree.

You collided, and you felt the branches hurtling into you, the sticks scratching at you. They cut you open, ruthlessly scraping up against you as you crashed through the trees. It felt like you were getting pummeled, the leaves hitting your face before you finally felt yourself collide into the ground.

You were dying.

There was no other explanation. Pain overtook you like a blanket, searing your nerves and making a piercing scream break through you. You twitched, a sob leaving you as you dug your fingers into the ground. Tears slid down your cheeks as you gritted your teeth, chest stuttering as you tried to breath. Despite your efforts, you couldn’t get a breath in, and another wail left you with less air.

Your forehead rested in the dirt; the crater you had made from your fall didn’t provide any comfort as your body flinched in pain. You felt a brief wave of revolting nostalgia wash over you, as if it was raking its grotesque fingers over your senses. It reminded you all too well of the cell you had been in Under the Mountain, the grime that had grown to be a permanent fixture on your skin.

Another throb had you snapping out of the flashback, and you came to your senses well enough to realize that the pain was coming from your wing. You attempted to unfurl both your wings, beginning to stretch them out before a blinding pain had you seizing up again. Your left wing only twitched in response, shuddering against the pain that went through it. You craned your head, sweat beginning to bead on your brow as you laid your eyes on the damage you did. The membrane was still intact, but the drooping told you that it was obviously broken.

Fuck.

A yell of frustration broke from you, and you blinked away the tears blurring your vision as you fought your way through the pain, a hand coming to push yourself up. You hauled yourself to your knees, another groan leaving you and you pushed yourself to your feet. The weight of your wing pulled it down, and it had you clenching your jaw in an effort not to cry out again. You braced yourself on a nearby trunk, looking around for any obvious landmarks to tell you where you crashed. You swallowed thickly, attempting to asses how you were going to complete the rest of your journey on foot. Despite your best efforts, the pain made it hard to think. You were almost to the Dawn Court border, so you started with the obvious decision.

You needed to get your wing patched up.

[llonelygoddess]

can i request some yandere!robb stark?

Yandere Robb Stark

Robb Stark always had the capacity for yandere behavior but never a strong enough connection to anyone to really explore it. He's had flings here and there but nothing that fed his soul or gave him any fulfillment. I picture him finding his darling during The War of the Five Kings after a failed marriage arrangement with the Frey's and the murder of Talissa at the Red Wedding.

You were a low born nobleman's child from the north that volunteered to provide aid to soldiers. After Robb barely escapes the Red Wedding with half his men, you nurse him back to health on the harsh road back to Winterfell.

Broken and nearly defeated, Robb questions if he should be leading anyone at all. But you, a fiercely loyal Northerner with an affinity for handsome broken men, set him straight. You remind him who he is, what's at stake, and the lives still willing to risk it all for what he stands for.

After months of travel and many late night chats Robb Stark has a newfound spark for life and its all for because of you.

Once you all make it back to Winterfell Robb is immediately in planning mode. Not only for how to get back at the Frey's while doing his duties as Lord of Winterfell, but also how to keep you by his side forever.

He insists that you stay as one of his advisors, a move that confuses everyone but you. Those late night talks were filled with whispers of what life would be like once you both got home. When you express your disappointment in having to go back home to White Harbor, he wastes no time assuring you that you'd always have a home with him in Winterfell.

You're moved into the castle right away and it doesn't take long to realize you were as close to Robb's room as you could get.

Before he'd start to court you, he'd be expecting you to spend almost every waking hour by his side giving him advice and company. When not in meetings or watching him train, he'd find time to take you on walks through the Godswood or share a meal together. It's his way of keeping you safe during this time of war and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy being the center of your attention.

Truly, he's worried someone as brilliant and beautiful as you would be quickly snatched up in a cold place like his home. He can't bare the thought of you with someone else, and trains extra hard on the days the image of you being taken away lingers in his mind.

The routine you fall into with Robb was thrilling but it was exhausting keeping your true feelings to yourself. You knew it was best that way though, the King in the North had more important affairs than the feelings of a low born noble. You settled with writing your affections down on a few parchment pieces and burning them after they piled up in secret.

Unbeknownst to you, Robb's yandere tendencies develop into sneaking into your room when you were away. At first it's simply to make sure your living quarters are up to his standard and comfortable ( he wanted to feel close to you) but when he saw your dirty clothes pile the secret pervert in him couldn't resist. It became a normal part of his routine, waiting late till you bathe to sneak into your room and switch out the clothes he had with new dirty ones.

But one night he finds himself standing in the middle of your room with pages of your love for him detailed out in your perfect handwriting. It doesn't even matter if he can read it properly, he sees his name next to words like "love" and "marriage" and everything else blurs. This is destiny in his eyes, and he'll see it fulfilled.

When you finally come back to the room his eyes are tearing and he's smiling like an idiot. You were mortified at first, being half naked and having your personal thoughts read by your King, but before you could ask what he was doing he has you in his arms whispering like a mad man the details of how he fell in love with you like sweet nothings.

That first night you discover your love for each other you have to stop him from immediately moving you into his bedroom. He's ready to go all in with you but you know strategically and for both of your reputations it's best to hold off until the war is over. More than anything you'd like to keep him and your territory safe.

But let me tell you, once that man has a ring on your finger and declares his love and devotion to you in the Godswood it's OVERRRR. He's moving you into your now shared room, getting you handmaidens to keep you company, assigning 2 personal guards to you when he's not around, and ceasing your duties as his advisor. The last one may have started a few arguments but ultimately as his spouse your responsibilities now lie with the people of Winterfell. ( What he doesn't tell you is he caught some of his bannermen leaders staring at your ass during council meetings and almost killed them...Theon advised otherwise)

His possessiveness just barely lessens after you get married. He doesn't see a need to be so overtly possessive when he trusts you... and your personal guards that report to him. You rarely leave Winterfell as is and no one would dare come onto the King in the North's beloved.

[takes1]

heyyy, I just found your page and I’m in love omg<333 would just like to request an ushijima imagine with a tall reader (5’10-11) it’s so rare to see a tall reader tbh hahah, anyways reader is captain of the girls volleyball of their school and is a middle blocker, ushijima just kinda stumbled upon their gym with tendou and cannot take his eyes off here or something 😭

Thank youuuuu

thanks pookie! sorry about the wait. this was a great request! i rlly appreciate asks like these. sorry i wrote this man a little different than what i normally see, but it made sense to me

warnings. none, sfw.

details. ushijima not getting social queues / pining!ushijima / kinda dumb!ushijima / stoic!ushijima / staring / secretly sweet!ushijima / tall!reader / team captain!reader / unrequited? crush / tendou being a great wingman / 1.8k words

links. masterlist. more haikyuu here. my ao3. request box.

Leading a team full of peers never came naturally. At least, the girls didn't make it an easy task when every order, every call was either questioned or giggled at.

Today's practice in particular was getting to you. Nobody was focused up and there were some plays that only existed because it was a Friday afternoon going into a long weekend off.

You shut down a laughable attempt at a spike. If anything, your jump was too high- the ball caught your chest and slammed into the opposite side of the court. What was that? Six shut-downs in the past ten minutes?

"Let's try hitting the ball, not bumping it!" You shouted, swiping the sweat down and off your face. It was mean, but honest.

"We're trying!" Somebody whined.

You flung your arm dismissively at the other side of the net and rested your hands on your hips. Maybe it was just destined to be a rough day, after all.

A melodic whistle from the entrance turned your attention to a cheery redhead, skipping towards the court. Behind him trailed a slower, silent, but somehow greater presence.

You called for a water break at once- celebration ignored- to greet your eccentric friend.

"Strooong block," Tendou grinned and scanned you for signs of effort- he found it in the wetness across your light-colored shirt, "Good game?"

"Hardly," You fanned yourself by pumping your collar with air.

Ushijima stopped glancing around the gym and finally acknowledged your presence- you pretended to not care about his awful staring problem. He didn't look you in the eye, but in a way, it made you more on-edge. Was there something wrong?

You stopped fanning yourself and faked a smile to hide how concerned you were that they might stay to watch, "We're just- off, today--,"

"Mmmm!" Tendou's attentive hum and consequent staring was far more objective, but creepy nonetheless.

What a couple of weirdos.

"We were just about to call it, actually," You placed your hands on your hips, squinting at the other captain to guess his intentions, "So if you were trying to use the court, you can have it."

Narrowed eyes caught your gaze in an intense, humbling second- you wrapped your arms around yourself and glanced away.

Ushijima had an otherworldly harshness to him. You rarely felt the need to shy away from people, but he knew how to make you squirm.

He said absolutely nothing to you. Tendou accepted your offer and paid it forward by inviting you to stay and run drills, but there was something about Ushijima you couldn't decipher, no matter how much you wanted to practice. It was like he had a problem with you, or the way you ran your team, or he was just pissed off- none of those were possibilities you had the energy to deal with after this evening.

They took the court gladly to do some pair work and clean up; your team left in a cheerful mood, ready to get started on their long weekend right away. The arrangement left only you dissatisfied.

Tendou stalked your exit carefully from afar, tip-tapping anxiously on the ball in his hands. Your long shadow slipped away and they were alone at last.

He kept his voice low, just in case, and cozied up to Ushijima's side, "Soooo..."

Ushijima spared a passing glance over to his curious friend, no more.

"How long?" Tendou's attentive, inquisitive grinning was enough context. No need for direct name-dropping, nor denial.

His stone face began to fill with color.

This was a new feeling for him- it felt like he was dying, but in a good way, and he didn't want it to ever stop. He couldn't seem to catch his breath until you left. That didn't bother him per say- he didn't need air if it meant he could watch you shut down spikes, or roll into a skilled receive, or lead your team.

When he was forced to speak was the only real problem. He could sit and be a spectator forever, but when it came to getting any words out with you, they all fell apart on his tongue. He was always pretty quiet, but he knew this was pushing what he could get away with.

"Don't know. I've always liked her."

Tendou tossed the ball to him. He caught it, deep in thought.

It was clear that you didn't return the feelings. From the beginning, you were always different with him than you were with your team, or even Tendou. He knew he wasn't charming, or charismatic, or friendly. That wasn't an issue until recently.

The way you walked, with a slight swagger, always standing straight-- using your height as a weapon, captured his attention first. He caught himself stealing glances at you from across the gym when your teams switched for precious practice time. He started to notice more. The strong lines in your legs, the sweat-stuck hair on your brow, the little pant on your breath when you said hey just out of civility, the confidence in your voice when you called plays.

Now he battled the feeling of wanting to put himself closer to you. Once that craving started to hit him at night, moments before he drifted off to sleep, he knew something was wrong with him.

Every time he had the opportunity to say something, he lost his voice.

"It's-," He slapped the ball a few times onto the gym floor, then stopped to think before sending it over, "Different now."

Tendou shot him an easy pass, "Y'know, I was starting to think you couldn't get crushes."

He bumped it back, "Me too."

-

Despite how off putting the experience was, by the next practice you were able to brush it all off. You were operating on two completely separate teams, after all. What the guys did, how they practiced, and when was simply not your business.

You slung your bag over your shoulder on the way out of your classroom. Your teacher called after the exiting students about due dates.

"I've been getting questions about the quiz! Remember, you also have a discussion due. They're two different assignments--!"

You only halfway paid attention, too excited about the warmth blowing in through cracked windows from the hall. It would feel so good at practice today - and you had something special planned to raise morale.

You were only a step out the door when you crashed into something firm. The sound of your head smacking into Ushijima's was loud, and unsurprisingly, painful.

"Oh-!"

"Mm-,"

You ran hot with embarrassment and failed to cover it with a laugh. How did you not see him?

"Sorry," You both muttered at the same time.

You rubbed your temple, he rubbed his forehead.

As he did so, he spared you no dignity with what looked like a judgmental up-and-down gaze. It was so piercing that made you grip your shoulder strap tighter. You weren't sure if he meant something by it.

That was just another example of his behavior that felt contradictory.

"We need..." He trailed, briefly checking his hand for any blood. When he looked up, his eye contact so intense that his brows began to furrow. There was some sort of affliction behind his eyes. A narrowed, preoccupied focus that made you uneasy.

You instinctively wiped the back of your hand over your hot face, in case you had anything on it. The side of your head throbbed like terrible.

He opened his mouth a little to say continue, but sighed instead, uneven.

Things were starting to connect in your brain. Little by little, you picked up on more cues from his body language. He was out of breath, a little sweaty, and flushed. He was clearly rushing here. That was the reason you plowed into one another. You realized you were lucky you were around the same size, or else that could've knocked you on your ass.

"The guys need to get into the gym earlier today."

The statement ripped you from your spiralling, almost complete, thoughts. You laughed, "Yeah, right."

Despite you both being Captains of the same sport, there was very little need to talk to each other beyond your shared affinity for Tendou. Your team schedules never clashed- your coaches and advisors made sure of it.

You squinted when he clearly wasn't kidding.

"Do you really 'need' it? Or do you just want the gym earlier?"

He took a breath to answer, but you were quick to ask another agitated question, "Did Coach Washijou approve of this? I haven't seen an updated schedule."

Talking to you was impossible enough, but you were pissed off, and asking so many questions, and the light was hitting your face just right, and you smelled so good. He couldn't shake how pretty you still looked, angry and impatient with him. You stood straight and proud. Your eyeline was close to his own so he could savor every color he could find in your darting eyes.

His slow reaction and lack of social graces was so off-putting that you could only assume it came from a place of narcissism. He must not have cared, or he thought that his own team was more deserving of practice time that he demanded taking yours.

You were seconds away from calling him an entitled prick when you spotted a familiar redhead approaching, just over Ushijima's shoulder.

"(Y/n)!!" He sang and squeezed past his friend to take your hand in his. He tossed it back and forth between his own. It made you smile for a moment; as always, he helped diffuse the tension.

"Hey, Satori-," You wanted to be nicer, but only had about 15 minutes left to figure this issue out, "What is this about needing the gym sooner?"

He looked up at the ceiling, acutely aware that Ushijima was not a fan of this physical contact between the two of you, "Hmm! Ohh, that. I meant to tell you-,"

A calculated gaze to Ushijima, "He said nevermind."

That little liar.

In a flash, just through that familiar, cunning face of his, Ushijima understood that Coach Washijou never actually wanted the gym. Tendou only told him the 'news' because he wanted him to have a reason to speak to you. He really wanted to punch him, just for a moment.

There was something between them you couldn't make out. A conversation there you didn't get. You couldn't, and didn't want to, bother yourself with it.

"Perfect! So, there's no issue then?" You patted Tendou, then Ushijima's broad shoulder and squeezed between them to go change for practice.

"Mm-mmm, No issues here!" Tendou grinned and wiggled his fingers goodbye at you. He looked at his friend.

Ushijima placed an oversized hand on that shoulder and watched you walked away.

taglist. love ya'll <33

@yuchacco

@integers

[novthewolf]

hello can give crush edward cullen x fem reader headcanons please 🙏 😊

Edward Cullen having a crush on you :

*-*-*

- The moment you cross that damn classroom door, Edward felt a incredible pull toward you.

- The rapidity of it would be ridiculous. But we all know our melodramatic vampire, he loves to make things complicated.

- He would be in a huge denial. Absolutly disregard any possible feeling for you.

- Edward would actually be scared, 'cause he thinks what he feels for you was plain bloodlust.

- So obviously, he distances himself from you even before your first official interaction.

- You didn't know how to react to this, wondering what you did wrong but tried your best to not let it get to you.

- You two were almost forced together by fate, since you have to work on a history project together.

- His incredible knowledge of history surprised you and intrigued, asking him all the questions you might had and always receiving an answer.

- Edward actually really enjoy your curiousity and got more and more eager to answer you.

- Still, you don’t instantly get closer from that. But slowly, he warms up to you.

- You spend more time together, especially in the library.

- His family doesn't quite understand why he hangs around you. And if you asked him at that moment, he wouldn't know either.

- What he does know is that it's getting harder and harder for him to stay away from you.

- Your presence, the way you smile when he explains something to you, the movements of your hands when you turn the pages of your new book.

- The way your eyes met his...

- Edward made a huge effort to never focus on your mind and read it but sometimes he wanted to know what you were thinking.

- He'd spent a lot of nights laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, replaying your conversations and moments spent with you, a smile grazing his lips unconsciously.

- Alice will get tired of his rambling about you but especially of his denial.

- Edward just couldn't bring himself to admit it, but the crush was there. And he was falling hard.

- As you grow closer, he becomes quite protective of you, as one could expect.

- When you hang out of Forks he is clued to your side, only leaving once he brings you back to your doorstep.

- Edward would be smiling and laughing way more often around you than with anybody else.

- Your whole relationship is really soft and slow but the feelings are there, and raising to the top.

- He would be showing signs of courting. Like, sometimes, out of nowhere he would come by to your house, to drive you to school and a tiny hand-picked bouquet flower will be waiting for you.

- Lifting your bag or books for you, holding the door open, glaring other 'suitors' away...

- "Let me get that for you..." He'd say and grab the book of the top of the shelf you couldn't reach, trapping you against his body.

- You would be constantly on his mind, almost driving him to madness. You managed to settle yourself in his head, but he would be a damn fool if he ever try to erase you.

- Now, everyday when he went off to school, he would arrive with a dumb little lovestruck smile on his face.

- But days aren't enough anymore and he regurlaly come through your window at night and observe you sleep peacefuly.

- He sometimes even clean up your room for you. And it's alway a nice surprise to find a tidy room, despite the fact it was certainly how you remembered it looked like when you went off to sleep.

- However, I don't think he would really act on his crush right away, but eventually... heh...

- No, it's better if you at least do the first step, just to reassure him.

- If you're too shy to explecitly confess your attraction toward him, don't worry you can be subtle, he notices the small details.

- When he notices your attraction, he isn't surprised by it (he is ecstatic don't get me wrong) but rather of his feelings for you.

- Edward would be in shock and need some time away from you, to clear his head.

- But like during the months since he met you, you kept coming back to him. He missed your shy warm fingers grazing against his, your oh so sweet scent, your words and smiles...

- You two had build such strong bound, you trusted him so much and so did he. He wanted to be truthful.

- To do so, Edward guides you through the woods, holding your hand in need be and brushing off leaves from your hair.

- He softly pushed you inside the beautiful clearing that laid in front of you, as he stayed put in the outlooks of the forest.

- So many doubts came whirlwinding in front of him but that caring smile you offered him, to invite him in... God, how could he saw no to you ?

- The vampire felt a deep rumbling in his chest as he took step forward, exposing his darkest self and feelings to you.

- "Don't crush my heart..." He muttered, knowing you wouldn't hear him, but all he needed know, was for you to see him.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

[freakbabyy]

soft universe - Eris Vanserra x Princess!Reader Chapter Three

< chapter two | chapter three | chapter four >

3.004k words

warnings: drama, smitten!eris again, mating bonds

thank you thank you thank YOU for all of the love this has received, the comments, reblogs, and likes <333 i love you guys as much as lucien loves his hair

-----

Story preview: Y/N Erling - youngest descendent to the King of Vallahan, not special, youngest of seven girls and four boys, and certainly not next in line to the throne. A kind soul, free-natured, always does what's asked. Content with spending the rest of her fae life taking care of her nieces and nephews while her elder siblings dealt with court dealings. That was until they drew up an agreement - her hand in exchange for their agreement to the treaty with Prythian. Enter Eris Vanserra - new high lord who did not want a wife, nor a mate. Can they work it out together - under pressure from a blood rite, a language barrier, a culture barrier, and Eris' unfortunate attempts at flirting.

-----

chapter three - the seed

Third POV 

Eris Vanserra the entire next day spent his free time with his dagger and a thick piece of wood. Even during meetings, he would take the two items out – nicking his fingers only a few times, yet continued with what he was doing. Anytime someone questioned what he was doing, he either ignored the question or changed the subject. However, after half a day it finally began to take shape and he couldn’t hide it from prying eyes all day – he had to finish after all. 

“Is that a flower?” His eldest and most trusted brother, Garreth, questioned. “Is it for your betrothed?” 

“Shut up.” Eris responded, working on a petal of it, using his flames to catch the end of it on fire before putting it out – giving it a tinted colour. “Yes.” 

“I never knew you were a romantic, dear brother.” His other brother, Marcus, spoke that time – nodding in approval. “If you use the dull side of the knife, you can add details to it.” 

“I didn’t ask for your advice, you two.” As he spoke, he took his brothers advice anyway, adding small details to the stem. 

“No, because knowing how stubborn you are you’d refuse to ask, even if you needed it desperately.”  

“Sometimes I really hate you two.” 

“Love you too, brother.” Marcus stood, leaving the room to attend to duties he had most likely, leaving the other two siblings. 

“When do you see her again?” Garreth wondered, admiring his brother's newfound hobby. 

“Tomorrow, after the meeting. I’m taking her for a walk through the forest, here.”  

“Seeing her again so soon? Smitten are we, brother?” Eris didn’t respond right away, and his brothers teasing smile widened. “It’s about time, you deserve to be happy.” 

“Agree to disagree.” Was his only response, as he stood up, “We have a meeting with some new advisors in a bit. We’d better get going.” 

He left before his brother could say anything more. He let out a sigh, 

“Stubborn lovestruck fool.” 

----- 

“He what?!” Nesta dropped the book she was holding onto, letting it fall to her lap – page forgotten. 

“Did you not hear me?” Y/N cocked her head to the side, getting used to Prythian sayings still. 

“No, no I heard you; it just startled me – I didn’t expect it.” Nesta picked her book back up, cursing as she looked for her page, sticking her bookmark in randomly. “When did you-?” 

“I was looking out Nyx’s window, overlooking the river, and a figure caught my attention – he appeared out of nowhere before standing in front of the door. He stood for a while I feared he was a criminal.” Y/N laughed a bit, “But then I thought, what criminal shows up in the light? Until Cassian took him inside. Then it clicked when I saw his face turn.” 

“Do you think it clicked for him too?”  

“I don’t know. He was quiet.”  

“That’s out of character for him, actually.” Nesta sipped her tea, settling her book down just as Morrigan strolled in. 

“What’re we talking about?” She plopped onto the couch beside Y/N, tucking her feet underneath her. “Boys?” 

“Ah, yes!”  

“Eris is Y/N’s mate.” Nesta spoke the same time as Y/N, blunt in stating the facts. 

“WHAT?” Morrigan sat up straight, her feet falling to the floor, “Since when?!” 

“Two days ago.” Y/N answered this time, fidgeting with the edge of her shirt – it was a pale green, a sharp contrast to her dark pants curtesy of Morrigan. She had been supplying Y/N with clothing more common in Prythian, rather than just dresses in Vallahan. “I just spoke it, I’m nervous today.” 

“To spend time with him today?”  

“Yes. I gift him two carvings last time.” 

“I’m sure he likes them, is that what you’re worried about?” 

“I don’t know, a feeling.” The girls’ conversation was cut short, a knock happening at the door. “Ah, him?”  

Nesta opened the door, settling aside as it was indeed the Autumn high lord. He was dressed casually, a stark difference to his usual attire. A white buttoned shirt with green trousers.  

“Good morning,” Eris greeted the room, which was coincidentally full of women he feared. He spoke next just to Y/N. “Are you ready, then?” 

“Yes,” She nodded, walking towards him, following him outside the door to go past the townhouse’s wards. 

“Ah, don’t be out too late, children!” A voice shouted from the second-floor window, 

“Fuck off, Cassian!” Was Eris’ reply before he turned his back to the window, holding out a hand. “Have you winnowed before?” 

“Yes, from Vallahan with Morrigan. It is a funny feeling.” Y/N confirmed, taking his large warm hand in her own, ignoring the feeling of electricity going up her arm raising the hair in its wake. 

“Oh before we go,” Eris let go to dig in his pocket, producing a beautifully carved wooden lily, “I wanted to follow your custom, to the best of my ability – I’m afraid I don’t know how to carve stone.” 

“How did you colour it?” Y/N wondered aloud, inspecting its darkened petals, and even darker stem. It wasn’t paint, or charcoal. 

“I carefully burned it,” He demonstrated by holding up his hand, which produced light blue flames, which faded into orange ones, before flickering out. “The hotter the flame the darker the colour, it just takes control to be able to not disintegrate the entire thing... Do you like it?” 

“I love it,” Her smile was so wide it looked as if her cheeks hurt, she carefully put it into her pocket on her breast, patting it for safe keeping. “I can’t wait to display on my bed table. Thank you.”  

“You’re very welcome,” He stuck his hand out again, as she grasped it – finally winnowing to the middle of the forest, a path he often took his hounds on. “Morrigan said you enjoyed flowers, there are a bunch a bit up the trail.” 

Eris took in Y/N, who was taking in the scenery around her. She just now looked up, from bending over at the knees after winnowing. Her face lit up; she twirled slowly looking at everything around her. The different types of trees and leaves, at their many colours, even to the different insects buzzing around. 

“What are that?” Y/N wondered aloud, bending down to look at a tiny thing at the base of a tree, nearly covered by the foliage. She carefully poked at it – recoiling at the texture. Eris held in a small laugh, 

“That’s a mushroom,” He pulled one out of the ground, and showed her the underneath – which had her touching it, feeling the odd textures. “Do they not have mushrooms where you hail?” 

“On plates for eating, not like this.” She turned her head, instead inspecting something on a fallen tree trunk, “What this?” 

“That would be an ant,” He watched her in wonder, what else did she not know of? “Do they have any forests where you’re from?” 

“No,” She started walking, he sped to catch up to her, “We only have mountains, so high up that not many things grow. I saw grass for the first time when I came here. It feels nice.” 

Eris wasn’t sure what to say to that, in truth he felt a little pity – she never climbed trees as a child? She never ran barefoot through a meadow, chased by her siblings as they played a game? Too lost in thought he hadn’t realized she disappeared. 

“Y/N?” He spoke, a bit alarmed at where she could have gone and thought the worst. His resolve relaxed when he heard a giggle from above and looked up – she was in the tree. Hanging upside down, her hair hanging below her. “What by the mother are you doing?” 

“Hanging around,” She smiled, as he came closer, “It like climbing rocks at home.” 

“Be careful, I don’t need you dying on our first date, please.” Eris joked, as she dismounted with ease, landing on her feet – when did she take her shoes off? 

“I won’t,” Y/N confirmed, running off to look at something else new, and the more Eris thought she reminded him of his hounds, always so curious to look at something new. “Eris?” 

He could get used to hearing his name on her lips. 

“Yes?” As he approached, she turned around, and he was appalled. “Where in Prythian did you get that? How did you even pick it up?” 

“It was in bushes, friendly like a cat.” In her hands, was an entire fox. It was currently sniffing her hair yet not being hostile. 

“Are you a fox-whisperer?” Eris questioned, cautiously walking forward to take a look at it. It didn’t seem injured, rather relaxed if anything. He reached out to lightly pet it, and it didn’t bite him. 

“Animals like me,” Y/N smiled, giving it a hug before releasing it back into its bush, waving goodbye. 

“Whatever you say, mother-fox.” He held up his hands, watching once more as Y/N returned to the trail before wandering off to the side to look at something, a comfortable silence taking over before the light ahead got closer – the meadow. 

“Ah,” Y/N ran forward, hitting the meadow at full speed – her calves being tickled by the wildflowers and tall grass, “It feels funny!” 

Eris sat on a raised rock, where he often sat when he needed alone time, enjoying watching Y/N run circles around him, almost dancing in the meadow. When she spotted a new flower she stopped abruptly, bending to look at it, sniffing it, and moving on. It must have been about ten minutes before she finally collapsed beside him, lying flat on her back out of breath. 

“Have fun?” 

“Yes. Though, it remind me of a word I do not know in your tongue.” She sat up, leaning on her elbows. 

“Try to describe it, maybe I know it?”  

“I can’t, it’s too...” She seemed to have gotten an idea, she pointed to the bottom of her foot, “Here.” 

Eris stayed silent, unknowing what she could mean, until she grasped his foot that was on the rock, crossed on his knee. She began untying his boot, pulling it off with force that almost knocked her over, and then pulled his sock off, 

“What by the mother are you doing?” 

“Trust!” Was all she said, before pushing his foot off, and as it touched the grass and wildflowers though, he pulled it back up, holding in a laugh – his knee jerk reaction being what she pointed at, “That!” 

“My reaction?” She nodded, “It tickled, are you ticklish?” 

“Ah! Tick-Lish!” Y/N confirmed, “The meadow is tick-lish.” 

“There’s a new word for you, today.” Eris smirked as he pulled his sock and shoe back on, not choosing to go barefoot like she had. 

“Well technically my word of day was ‘radish’, but I like tick-lish better.” Eris’ nose scrunched, 

“Why radish?” 

“I bit into it thinking it was baby apple, not apple. I did not like.” 

“I don’t blame you, I don’t either.” 

“Tell me more, about you.” Y/N spoke, sitting cross legged across from him, he copied how she was sitting to look at her fully. “What colour do you like?” 

“My favourite colour?” He confirmed, she nodded, “I like green. A deep green – almost like moss. What about you? What’s yours?” 

“I like... (You can insert your own favourite colour, and what it reminds you of : ) mines light green, like a diluted sage green.)” She thought for a moment, “Do you have siblings?” 

“I do; I had six brothers.” 

“No sisters? Your poor mother!” Eris laughed at that, his mother had said the exact thing to herself at one point, “I have you beat, though.” 

“By the cauldron, how many siblings do you have?” 

“Ten,” His eyes widened, 

“Your poor mother,” Y/N laughed at that, “Are there any twins or triplets?” 

“Ah, three sets of twins. Do you?” 

“None, just single babies. I know you’re the youngest, too. I’m the oldest.” 

“We are the opposites!” 

“We are, though I hear we did the same thing, take care of babies.” Y/N smiled at this, 

“Ah, I love babies, they are so cute! Like... Well, I can’t think of anything really cute right now, but it would be really cute!” 

“They are, aren’t they?” Eris smiled, thinking of baby Lucien, the last baby he had taken care of. “Want to hear a secret?” 

Y/N nodded frantically, scooching closer as if they weren’t alone in the clearing, 

“The last baby I took care of, my youngest brother Lucien,” 

“Ah! Eyeball!” 

“Yes, him, you know how the autumn court is known for its fire powers, yes?” 

“Yes, orange leaves like fire, is how I remember.” 

“Indeed. Lucien, when he first laughed – let out a glow of light, so bright as if he swallowed faelight. I couldn’t explain it, neither could the one maid I had asked, worried I had messed him up,” 

“What was it?” 

“Well, come to find out, dearest Lucien and I have different fathers. My mother, had met her mate, and had conceived Lucien as a result.” 

“Who is her mate?” 

“Oh, no one, just... The High Lord of Day.” The way Y/N’s eyes widened looked painful, as she clasped her mouth with her hands, “That reaction was how I felt when I found out, trust me. My poor mother had to explain it to a fifteen-year-old me, mortified.” 

“The lady of autumn... Married to high lord of autumn, but mated to the high lord of day! What happened? Where is she now?” 

“Oh, she lives in day with him now, she is now high lady of day. She never really loved my father; their arrangement was purely political. She wasn’t too torn up when he died. Delighted, actually.” 

“I would be sad,” Eris looked up, meeting Y/N’s eyes, wide. “If you died, I mean.” 

“Oh, I hadn’t meant to bring up... You know. Our political arrangement, not in that light anyway, I really don’t want it in that light anyway – I don’t want to be my father, nor you my mother-” His rambling got cut short, a delicate hand grasping his own, 

“I know, Eris.” Y/N smiled encouragingly, “I met your father, once. I was young, apparently, I didn’t like him.”  

“When was this?” Eris questioned, completely unaware that this had taken place, 

“I was a babe, he made the trip to secure us with Hybern, my older sister, Vidia, told me that at one point he came to say hello to me and my siblings, to show his good-ness to my parents.” She laughed hard at remembering, “Apparently, when he held me, I had not only spit up all over him but also blew-out my diaper. It had gone everywhere, and the more he moved, the more it got worse-” 

She couldn’t talk anymore, full on cackling at this point – and Eris had joined her, delighted at the idea of his father covered in not only vomit, but also shit. Literally. When their laughter died down, Eris grasped her hand back, a genuine smile on his face. 

“Oh, I think the mother had known what she had done, putting us together.” Y/N looked up from their hands, quickly to his face, 

“Put us together?” He paled, 

“Oh, I didn’t- shit.” He pulled his hand away, “Cauldron, I had a whole speech planned to tell you, and a picnic, and I wanted to wait awhile until I sprung that on you, but I was too caught up in the moment-” 

He was interrupted by Y/N launching herself into him, nearly knocking him off of the rock, securing her hands around his shoulders,  

“I knew you felt it too! Though I do like picnics, if that is an option, still.” 

“I- you knew too? When?” Eris was at a loss for words, 

“I saw you outside Nyx’s window, you were stood at the door – for a while.” 

“You saw that!? That’s humiliating! I was so scared to meet you!” Eris groaned, rubbing his hand down his face, as Y/N laughed a bit.  

“When did you know?” 

“When I saw you singing to Nyx, it was lovely. I was completely entranced by your singing. You’re so caring to Nyx, too.” 

“Oh, that is better than standing at a doorway for ten minutes.” Eris groaned again, “Kidding!” 

“You aren’t upset? About the bond?” 

“Ah, no. I grew up hearing stories of it, how wonderful it is. Even now, with everyone at home with a mate. It is beautiful. What about you? You are high lord; you have a lot to do right now...” 

“I am, and I’m ecstatic. Ah, that means very happy. I do have a lot right now, and it might take a while for me to fully be able to devote my time to you, but in the meantime... I’m more than happy to spend my free time with you, my free days wherever you want, here or there.” 

“We can go slow; we have all the time.” Y/N concluded, as Eris agreed, pressing a light kiss to the back of her hand, 

“Though, we shouldn’t announce it yet, to anyone other than who needs to know. I have a lot of enemies at the moment, especially in autumn. I do not wish for them to harm you.” 

“I might have told Nesta. And Morrigan.” 

“That’s fine, I trust them. They’re good at holding secrets. Plus, I told my brothers last night, they practically pestered me until I told them what I was hiding.” 

“Okay, then only Nesta, Morrigan and your brothers?” 

“Works for me,” Eris nodded, standing, “It’s been three hours, I should probably get you home, before they come to strangle me. Nesta scares me.” 

“Ah, good idea. I promised to put Nyx down for his afternoon nap.” 

“I’ll see you next week? For our next afternoon together? Same time?” 

“Yes,” Y/N smiled, and Eris smiled back. 

Both of them excited for what the future holds, for the first time in forever. 

-----

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[nonbinaryeye]

Is Henry a page or a squire or an armiger? And what is the difference exactly?*

I've been waiting for a while for someone more educated to make post like this but since no one has done it yet... Henry has been called interchangeable Hans' page and Hans' squire** and it's been bothering me a bit for a while.

To make it very simple, a page (páže) was usually a boy from age 7-14 sent to court to get education, doing job of servant, messenger and maybe learning how to fight but he's not expected to partake in any battles. Page is at most taking care of horses and weapons and usually they are not even assigned to one knight or lord in particular.

From age of 14 page usually becomes a squire (panoš) and usually serves just one knight or lord, taking care of all the equipments, horses continuing their studies and training with weapon and accompanying their lord or knight to battles while still also taking care of all the other possible needs of the lord or knight they are serving. At age 21 they can make their oath and be knighted after performing some knightly deed. The squires were usually noble born as in medival times only noblemen could be knights.

Then there's also an armiger/armorer/shield-bearer (zbrojnoš), as far as I've checked, Henry is not called that in English only in Czech dubbing. The role of armiger is similar to one of squire, the difference is that as far as I understood a man of any social status could be an armiger. The difference between an armiger and a squire is that armiger is not of a noble class and also he mostly only took care of their knight/lord equipment and served them in battles without all the additional tasks squire was expected to perform.

So now to the question - what exactly is Henry? Technically by all the things he's performing the role Henry is assuming is Hans Capon's life, by all means he should be called his squire. His role in what tasks he's doing is more versatile than the one of armiger and he's fighting by his side and too old to be a page.

Now to the questions everyone in the fandom keeps asking - could Henry ever become a knight? Well, actually, yes! As far as I know from my research though bastards of nobles could not get any inherentence from their noble parent, their relations should be enough to allow them to be knighted if they proved themselves.

So only the reason he would be called a page is if the way to knighthood really required one to go through all the stages "page - squire - knight" and so even though Henry is older than page is supposed to be, he would need to assume the role of one to progress further, since his circumstances are quite unusual.

*Or does the game elaborate on that more somewhere and I've just missed it? (there's one dialogue check with Klara regarding knighthood but it does not really clear Henry's position much...)

**at least in Czech version he's called both his page (páže) and armiger (zbrojnoš) and I'd swear he's called squire (panoš) at some point too (well, if nothing else I know for certain Henry calls himself that at least once in kcd1). Feel free to correct me if he's never actually called squire in English original though.

[lxndrlvr]

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ . ₊๋˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋

Let's get you home, detective.

Note: mentions of alcohol, getting drunk, confrontations, slow burn but not really?, angst if you squint, tension, sapphic stuff ykwim, jealousy.(!!??), misunderstandings.

Pairings: Alexandra Cabot × detective reader

.𖥔 ݁ ˖𖦹⭒°｡⋆

“You are under arrest for the rape of Kendall MacKenzie, you have the right to remain silent and to refuse any questions. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you....”

“Great job out there, you've really outdone yourself for a rookie.” well that was something you didn't expect, especially coming from the captain himself. Even the others praised you, and it made your stomach feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. Being a rookie meant that you were prone to criticism, which meant that everything you did was monitored. Especially your job now in the Special Victims Unit police department (SVU) was no joke. It takes a lot to have the guts to work in there, good thing for you, you were not one to back out so easily.

As of now, you've already tracked down the suspect after days of trying to pin which one of them raped the poor girl. You were alongside munch and tutuola, which meant that you were always in between their daily banter and side comments. It was amusing, really. But most days, you prefer working alongside elliot and olivia. But that also meant feeling like you were third wheeling, which made you feel like you didn't belong anywhere. Still, that didn't stop you from tracking them all down alongside them. You were adjusting quite well, surprisingly you still haven't vomited from extreme nausea and punched someone in the face for being a straight up asshole.

...

Busy monday, tons of evidences yet still not enough to send that man to court. Everyone was getting frustrated, especially you. You were so focused on going over your papers over and over again, trying to see if you missed something small that can potentially help you make sense of it all that you didn't even realize someone was standing behind your back, talking to detective benson and stabler. You jumped from your chair, immediately flipping through the pages as you ran to olivia's side, pointing at every possible thing they missed during the investigation. Explaining in great detail on how you connected every clues and minor details, leading to you rummaging through your desk for more information. It was all finally adding up, you were so close.

“That's a good observation you have there” she paused, “I'm afraid we haven't met yet. I'm Alex Cabot, a pleasure to meet you.” introducing herself, she extended her hands to shake yours. While you were in a daze, just staring at her like a lovestruck fool, causing you to stammer. The papers and your pen falling on the floor from nervousness as you mentally cursed yourself as you picked up your things from the floor. Alex also crouched down, helping you as you introduced yourself, still stuttering. Olivia side eyed you, asking what was that all about when Alex was whisked away by Elliot and Cragen for a talk.

“No, I should be the one asking. What was that? That's Alex?” you asked in disbelief, you've only heard whispers about the ADA but you've never met her in person, that was, until today. Olivia has never seen you act this way, that's when it finally clicked.

“Please don't tell me you like Cabot.”

“I mean-” she cut you off “I'm not hearing you out, kid.”

“Oh come on!”

“You cannot be serious—”

“Oh you're one to talk” you interrupted, then gulped when she gave you a disapproving look. You felt like you were walking on thin ice, so you dropped it.

...

You're in awe while watching Alex in action, feeling massively intimidated by the older woman. Her voice alone, sent shivers down your spine while you paid attention intently on how she delivered the case.

“The defendant was charged with heinous crimes, the murder victim was seven weeks pregnant.”

“Objection!” a loud bang echoed in the court room, making you slightly wince.

“That was a nice try, counselor. Don't do it again.”

“My apologies.” alex replied sheepishly

...

Months have passed and still, you haven't made your move yet with her. Many have tried pursuading you but you've always avoided Alex like the plague. Something about that woman was making you stammer all over your words, so you decided it was best to keep your distance. But the latter seemed to take that you just generally disliked her, enough to keep your distance and put a wall in between you both before you even got too close. Of course at first alex went out of her way to befriend you, but realizing that no matter what she does, you would always end up avoiding her. She tried asking what was wrong, but you gave her no straight answers. Elliot watched as you fumbled over alex, he and olivia knew better than anyone, and by that I mean they know that you liked alex. It was painful to watch, to say the least. The amount of headache you've put them through, stressing them out just because you're too much of a coward to confess.

“Why do I do this? I always mess up, now she thinks I don't want to be her friend.” you pouted as you took a sip of your drink, it was a long exhausting day from work as usual. It was stabler's treat, just you and him. You reminded him so much of his daughter, and you needed a friend. Only, you suck at making friends so you just whisk off any parental figure you see to rant your heart out over some woman that you can't seem to get out of your mind.

“I really don't understand how you expect anything to happen when you ignore her” he started, then shook his head in a disapproving manner when you started to sniffle quietly.

“I'm scared, okay?” you tried to reason out

“Kid, you've handled crimes harder than this. Confrontation with cabot surely wouldn't kill you.” he said, taking a sip of his beer.

“But what if I mess up?” you said weakly, your eyes glassy from crying.

“You won't.”

...

You really didn't have any choice, not even a week later and you're whisked off to interrogate a suspect alongside cabot. Cragen specifically tasked you to stay by her side and when you tried to protest, that's when he changed his mind about letting olivia and elliot come with you. So now you're stuck with Alex, and you didn't know what to do other than fumble over the hem of your sweater. It was awkward at first, neither one of you spoke to one another, that was until Alex initiated first. You really didn't want to be rude so you tried to talk and keep your composure intact for your sake. It was by far the longest conversation you've had with her, and since then, you both went out of your ways to make small talks whenever you can.

The squad seemed impressed with the progress you had, and you were also quite proud of yourself for not being as nervous and cowardice before. That was, until you saw Alex with a man at a restaurant, where you were invited by your college close friend for dinner to catch up. The whole evening, you could barely focus on your conversation with your friend, you were practically fuming at this point. The way he held her hands, the sound of alex's laugh and her smile. It looked more genuine than when she was with you. And that hurt you deeply, and your friend seemed to notice the change in your demeanor so your dinner was cut shortly when he offered to take you out to get some ice cream. You agreed and you both exited the restaurant once he paid for everything.

Alex watched as you exited the restaurant with a man, holding you by your waist and guiding you out. Her heart felt heavy at the sight, almost forgetting that she was on a date with a guy. Now it felt so wrong to entertain him, alex felt sorry for using the guy, but she can't seriously let herself fall for the younger detective.

...

There it was again, and everyone seemed to notice it. Another growing tension between alex and the stubborn young detective, just when everyone thought things were going well, they were now back to avoiding each other like the plague. Olivia tried talking you through it, but you shut her out. It was a jerk move, yes, but olivia understood where you were coming from. So she dropped it, knowing that it was best to leave you to it. After all, you insisted that you're old enough to handle this.

But it also greatly affected your performance at work, you've grown more impatient than ever and whenever someone pokes you too much, you explode and storm out of there. You can barely focus anymore, but you're trying your best to maintain everything in control. It was painful to watch you go through this, benson, stabler, munch, tutuola and cragen. It didn't take long enough for them to figure out why you were acting this way. You're not even surprised anymore when you got called up in cragen's office by the end of the day.

“What's with you, detective.” he started off while you looked at the ground, feeling guilty for how you've been acting lately.

“I'm sorry..” your voice cracked, choosing not to answer his question. Apologizing instead, after all, it was your fault for letting your feelings consume you whole.

“Look kid, I understand that you might be going through something serious, but what's happening? It has to be something big that you're letting it get to you.” you couldn't answer him, it sounded too childish to admit why you acted this way.

“It won't happen again, sir.” you closed your eyes, feeling like you're getting scolded by your father for misbehaving.

“I'm not mad, if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to come to me. Take care of yourself kiddo. You're free to go.” you silently thanked him as you exited the room, bumping into someone.

“Oh I am so sorry—” you began, only to cut your sentence short when you realize it was alex, standing close to you. You cleared your throat, as stepped away. She didn't even spare a single glance at you as she entered cragen's office.

...

Alex wouldn't mind falling in love with you, if it didn't mean being in love with a girl.

You wouldn't mind falling in love with a girl, if it didn't mean falling in love with alex.

...

You visited Alex's office, alongside munch and tutuola to discuss something. You barely spoke a whisper, not even a sound came out of you, when asked, you would just nod or reply non verbally. The amount of times you caught alex's intense gaze at you, was more than you could count. Or at least her eyes never left yours the minute you stepped foot inside her office. When it was time to head out, you were the first one to leave but was stopped when munch told you to stay back. They'll just get something and will be back in at least 15 minutes, you were about to protest but they didn't give you a chance, they were already out. You stood in the corner, refusing to acknowledge Alex's presence. Her telephone rang, as she got up and approached to answer it.

“Alexandra Cabot” she answered, then her face lit up when she recognized the voice, belonging to her guy friend. It wasn't your intention to eavesdrop, but alex seemed excited talking to him. The sight alone was enough to pierce your heart, lucky for you, munch came back just in time to pick you up.

...

“You didn't tell me she was invited too.” you mumbled, gulping as you watched Alex from afar, talking to cragen about something. You scoffed when you heard elliot chuckle, having the urge to elbow his face for finding this amusing.

“Does that bother you?”

“You know damn well it does.” you murmured, drinking your cheap beer.

“Snappy.”

...

You were now left alone in the bar, while the others chatted in the corner. A guy approached you, while Alex watched from a distance. She overheard you refusing the man's offer to buy you a drink, standing up from your stool as you tried to wobble away from the man. You were evidently drunk, but the stranger was persistent. Before he could even grab you, someone already did, holding your waist protectively as they put themselves in between you and the man harassing you.

“Get out of my way, woman—” he tried to snatch you away when alex slapped his hand away and kept you close to her.

“I suggest you get out of my face before I put you behind bars.” alex calmly stated, holding you close as you rested your head on her neck, mumbling something incoherent.

“And who are you to tell me what to do, you little—”

“Her girlfriend, now if you may excuse me, don't ever come near her ever again.” she snapped at him before pulling you gently away from the bar, going straight to your colleagues as she offered to take you home.

You protested incoherently, you were talking nonsense at this point as you tried to identify who was this woman holding you close.

“Who are you?” hiccup.

“It's alex” she gently murmured against your ear as she led you out of that place.

“My alex or other alex?” she laughed at that, shaking her head as you addressed her as 'your alex'. Or is it her?

“Well how many alex do you know?” amused, she asked the younger detective.

“Only you” you shrugged.

“Let's get you home, detective.”

...

Fortunately, you were sober enough to inform her your address. Which led her to driving you to a dark and dirty alley, which looked very unsuitable for any woman to walk on, it was so dark that she doesn't know how you manage to go home safely in this alleyway. Once you arrived, alex saw a few gang members outside the building, as she immediately turned her car back around and drove to her house instead.

“Absolutely not.” alex muttered under her breath, there was no way in hell was she going to let you stay in your apartment knowing that those men were lurking outside the building, not to mention at an ungodly hour considering it was 1 am.

“Hey, this is not the way to my apartment.” you sulked, as alex rolled her eyes. Of course it wasn't, she was not going to let you step foot inside that building after what she saw.

“I know, we're heading back to my place.” good thing alex stayed sober.

“At least take me out to dinner first, miss cabot.” you scoffed, not noticing how alex blushed from your absentminded words. Still, she didn't comment on it.

...

You can't really recall what happened, but you somehow found yourself in Alex's guest bedroom, in her pajamas, wrapped under her blankets, inside her own home. You walked down the stairs, only to find alex with her hair up in an apron, cooking breakfast. She glanced up, her pair of blue eyes, staring directly at you as she smiled softly.

“Good morning, how do you feel?” she asked as she opened one of her cabinets and grabbed painkillers for you to drink, as you slowly approached her in the kitchen, sitting on one of the stools.

“Like I just got hit by a thousand bus.” you managed to croak out, good thing you brushed your teeth using the spare toothbrush she left for you upstairs. She chuckled at your antics, placing the painkillers in front of you, as well as a glass of water.

“That's what you get for drinking too much” alex said in amusement as she watched as you drank the pills, groaning at your headache. Plating your food, she sat next to you, turning your head to face her.

“Can you eat?” she asked, her voice gentle as she cupped your cheeks. You nodded, accepting the plate of food from her.

...

After eating, you're both silently looking at each other. The plates long forgotten on the table, her blue eyes scanning over your facial features, wondering how could someone be as angelic as the younger detective in front of her.

“Why do you hate me?” that question caught you off guard, your eyes widening. Her voice sounded weak and defeated, almost as if she was in pain, the thought alone, sent shivers down your spine.

“What? I don't hate you, alex. Who told you that?”

“No one did, it's just that..” she paused, then sighed. “Why are you avoiding me? Have I done something wrong?” she asked.

“No, you didn't do anything wrong.”

“Then why are you avoiding me? Why do you always run away from me? I can't understand you, one moment we're okay, and then the next second I get too close, you run away from me!” she snapped.

“Alex-”

“Why are you treating me like this?” her voice cracked, her eyes slowly becoming glassy.

You gulped, not knowing what to say. For as long as you can remember, you've always thought that alex couldn't care less if you ignored her, that it didn't hurt her one bit, but seeing her like this. It felt like a stab to your heart.

“That day at the restaurant, I saw you with a guy.” taking a deep breath, you paused. Then continued. “It broke my heart, alex. I saw the way he held your hands and how he made you laugh, I wanted it to be me.” you sniffled.

“I always thought I was out of your league” you let out a dry chuckle. “Is it selfish of me to admit that I'm jealous? Why couldn't it have been me? But then I figured, maybe you didn't like me that way so I distanced myself. Do you know how hard it was to watch your smile? Knowing that another man is making you happy, while I stepped back because I'm too much of a coward to admit that I have fallen for you. Can you believe it alex?” choking on a sob, you tried to contain your emotions as you wiped away your tears.

“I'm not a very religious person, but God, I dropped to my knees and prayed. I asked him why he was doing this to me and why does love come easy for other people, but when it comes to me, it felt like sin. I can feel my skin burning with every cry that I let out, this guilt is eating me inside and I don't know how to feel about it.”

“I like you, alex. No, I love you. And that's what hurts the most, because—” before she could finish her sentence, alex kissed her. Effectively shutting her up, her tears coming to abrupt, the kiss almost desperate as you closed your eyes and kissed back.

Pulling away felt like such a crime, but you had to eventually. Resting against each other's forehead as you both tried to catch your breath after kissing so intensely. Then alex chuckled, trapping you in her arms as she pressed a soft, tender kiss on your cheeks.

“Idiot, I love you more.”

[ronibartender]

Out of my control

Summary:

LoA moves to the Day Court after Beron’s death and her and Helion have a baby; Lucien gets a little sister. Lucien meets Y/N when his sister is about 3 yo and he starts courting the her. It quickly becomes clear that the little female does not like Y/N making her gets more and more discouraged, knowing relationships tend not to work if a family doesn’t like the partner. Lucien always brushes it off and tosses it up to his sister being territorial over the brother who used to spend every second he could spare with her but now needs to teach her to share him.

Disclaimer: I give no rights for my work to be replicated, adapted, translated or used for any means. If you have questions please feel free to message me.

A special thanks to @mirandasidefics for beta reading and inspiring me to finally post. Go read her fics on her page, they are amazing!

Lucien POV

“Centuries ago there was a male and a female who fell in love”

“Ewwww!” She giggles.

“Shhhh. This is the story of a female, a spitfire who was carefree and creative and who fell in love with the sun.”

“The sun?”

“The sun. The sun used to sneak into the female’s family estate when all were away and he’d dance with her. He taught her the dances of all the places he had been to and she taught him about the animals that lived near her estate. Her favorite were the birds, she’d take him to the balcony of her estate and they’d feed the birds, sometimes they’d even fly into her hands.”

“They can do that?” Her small voice is full of wonder.

“Yes, but it takes patience. But the sun and the spitfire female had to keep their love a secret.”

“Why?”

“Because the spitfire was betrothed.”

“Beth- betrou- bu- bu- what?”

“Betrothed, she was engaged,” she gasps at that. “But she didn’t want to be. The spitfire’s father had basically sold her to the most powerful male in the land; a king.”

“She didn’t want to be a queen?”

“Maybe she did… but she knew that true love was more important than any crown.”

“Awww” she coos.

“The day for her to wed came and her betrothed- I mean, her new husband, found out about the sun, about how much she loved the sun and how much the sun loved her back. He threatened to-”

“Thhhhh- thhh- teten?”

“Threatened. He promised to do something really bad if she didn’t stop seeing the sun,” she gasps again.

“What did he promise?”

I shrug, “no one knows. But it was scary enough that the spitfire, sad and crying, told the sun they could no longer see one another. And the sun, fearing for her, agreed. And so the sun was gone. And the spitfire’s life became cloudy and colorless. Slowly, her fire didn’t burn as bright. The days dragged on and on and on… she gave that king six sons. One stronger than the last. Taller. Bigger. But… also dumber.” She giggles. “Then a war broke out and all the surrounding kingdoms got together to fight the bad male trying to take away their freedom. Their lives, their cultures and traditions were all at risk… and the sun was there to help them fight, but the spitfire could only watch from a distance. Until one morning, one of the evil males from the bad side of the war, found her taking a walk in the forest. The spitfire, having gone centuries without her training, fled. The male chased her to a cliff and she knew she wasn’t going to make it. No weapons, her powers, out of practice and dull over the years…”

“Oh no…”

“But then, with a burst of blinding light, the sun appeared in front of her again. He drew no weapon but in seconds the bad male was no more. He turned to the spitfire, who watched him in awe and in thanks, who was crying at their mare proximity, and he held her. And they danced again. They danced like they used to. Like no time had passed at all and for a few days, though they met in secret, her world had color again. The fire in her soul burned so violently she couldn’t sit still. But all good things must end, as the bad ones do. And the king found out they’d been dancing,” she gasps yet again. “He promised more bad things… and the sun had to go away again. Months later the spitfire gave birth to another son. He looked much like the others but he was smaller. More delicate. As he grew, he didn’t want to fight, though he learned to defend himself, but he was drawn to the library, he loved to read. So as his brothers were sent to rule parts of their father’s kingdom, the youngest would read, and learn. But he was always treated poorly by his brothers and his father, and he never knew why. They did terrible things to him, took away things that made him happy, took his friends and his books and everything he held dear…” My voice cracks. “So he ran away and went to live with a friend. He made a life for himself, traveling and seeing new places, making new friends. And things were fine… until they weren’t. A mad queen captured all the kings and queens of the neighboring lands and cast a curse on the youngest son, his friend and their kingdoms. They were cursed for 50 years!”

“15 years?!”

I chuckle, “50, 5-0. But a human came and saved them. She beat all the odds and the youngest son was free… for a while. Many bad things kept happening to him but he got through it all and he found his mate!”

“His mate?”

“Yes. They are very rare, but mates are the Mother’s gifts to the fae. They hold the other half of our souls and some say one is never complete until they find their mate. But his mate did not want him. She was hurt and angry at the world and she did not look at him twice. He was hurt, rejected by the one person who was supposed to love him no matter what. But he made it through, little by little, getting stronger with each challenge he faced and conquered. He moved around different kingdoms, fought in a big war and soon he found himself not quite fitting into the places he once did. So he found a new home, with two new friends; a firebird and a misunderstood warrior. Until one day a little bird came to him and told him the story of the spitfire and the sun. And that’s when he knew; he was no prince. The evil king who raised him was not his father… but the sun? The sun was. And the youngest son was light itself.”

“Wow…”

“Yes… it was not easy. The sun didn’t know his love for the spitfire had such an effect. But when he found out the sun shone brighter than he ever had. Taking his offspring, although a grown male, into his kingdom and teaching him things he didn’t even know he was capable of, powers he didn’t know he had. But the young male’s trouble wasn’t over; his mate rejected their bond and he almost died because of it. His parents and his two friends were the ones to keep him alive and helped him. And then the evil king who had raised the male passed away; the spitfire was free too. And she found refuge in the sun’s kingdom. And they danced again, and laughed again and fed the birds again.”

“And they lived happily ever after?” She asks.

“Not yet. Not a decade later, the spitfire was pregnant again, this time with a morning star, Venus.”

“That’s my name!” She claps.

“That’s right. And the lonely boy who finally had the family he always wanted, got a little sister!” She giggles as I blow raspberries on her belly. “Now, go to bed before mom finds out you’re awake.”

“Noooo!” She whines, “I wanna hear it again! I wanna hear it again!” I put her in bed, catching her by the ankle as she tries to crawl away and putting the covers over her.

“You just heard it!” I smile.

“But I want it again!” I kiss her head.

“Tomorrow night,” I exit her room, turning off the lights, the spinning night light casting little suns around her room. I walk to my office, the one Heli- dad gave me a while after I got settled here and started “High Lord training” as he likes to call it. I finish some paperwork before retiring to my chambers, bathing and sleeping.

The next morning, after breakfast I head over to the library. This one is smaller than most of the grand libraries of the Day Court. This is where most of our ancient texts are stored and I’m running an errand for Helion…dad. I walk in and can’t help but notice how it looks so different from most libraries. There are some shelves, yes but the books are covered and bound, protected. There are chests, no doubt filled with parchment and rolls of ancient text. I walk in, looking at the list of texts I’m supposed to retrieve and start searching for the specific books and scrolls he requested so we can go over them this afternoon but many of the covers and titles are covered to keep them protected. I reach for one and…

“Do not touch the books!” A female voice reprimands and I look around to find the source. A female stands, with a stack of books in her arms, at the end of this book shelf. She peaks over her stack of books, “please wait by the front desk and I’ll be with you in a moment,” she walks off and by the time I reach the spot she stood in, looking both ways, she’s gone.

I wait by the “front desk” which consists of a small desk and an uncomfortable looking bench with a few fae lights floating around. Ten minutes go by before the female speed walks behind her desk, “sorry for the wait, how can I help you?”

“I’m looking for these,” I hand her the list. Her eyebrows scrunch in concentration as she reads through and her lips twitch and purse.

“Some of these are very ancient texts…” she asks, definitely searching for something as she looks in my eyes. Pausing on the left side of my face and I see it; the fight between wanting to look over my scar and being polite and keeping eye contact with my natural eye.

“Yeah… I know…”

“Alright, it’ll take me a while to get these from storage. If you want to you can come back in about an hour-”

“It’s alright. I’ll wait.” I nod to her and give her a tight lipped smile. She bites her lip and sets my list down on her desk.

“These texts aren’t just something you can check out like a library book. I’ll need to call my superior to get clearance to let them leave this library. And even if I do, it’ll only be for a day or two.”

I blink. “Clearance?”

She nods. “Yes.”

This is awkward, I don’t want to tell her Helion is my father, it’d sound like I’m throwing my title around, “alright. I’ll… be back in an hour then?” She nods and I go to a café nearby to wait.

When I return she has everything ready for me on a small cart. She’s at her desk writing and I clear my throat as I approach. She jumps, “oh! I- I’m sorry,” she scrambles up, looking into my eyes for only a second before casting them down and going to the cart behind her. “Here. It’s all there, bring them back whenever you can and just…” she wrings her hands, “be gentle, please.”

Her demeanor has completely changed from just an hour ago and I have a good idea why. “Thank you. I’ll have them back as soon as I can.”

She nods but her eyes dart from her shoes to the cart to my shoes and then back to hers again. “Take your time,” she mumbles. I don’t know what else to say so I take the cart and roll it until it’s outside the wards protecting the library and winnow to Day Court Palace. This is the part of being a High Lord that Tamlin always hated; how people changed completely once they realized who stood before them. Either shaking with fear or bowing with respect. It’s lonely. And I feel it more everyday, yes I have Venous and my mother and a father who cares and loves me but I crave friends to go out drinking with, to flirt with females, to go hunting or fishing or do anything at all for pleasure and to share it with someone, a friend or otherwise. With a sigh I enter my father’s office, rolling the cart with all the texts he requested on them.

“That took you a while,” he lifts a brow, not in anger but in curiosity.

“Yeah,” I start to take things off the cart and place them on the large, round table in the middle of his office. “The librarian said she needed to get clearance and then it would take a while for her to get everything together.”

“Clarence?” He sounds surprised.

I chuckle, “that’s what I said.”

“And I’m guessing you didn’t tell her who you were,” it’s not a question.

I sigh, “no. It feels like bragging… it was never like this in Autumn. They knew me but I was no one, here they-”

“Respect you?” He smirks.

I chuckle, “something like that.”

“Maybe if you were honest but humble they’d warm to you on a personal level, hiding who you are to those who don’t know won’t do you any good. Venus is your only friend and though I love my little morning star, that’s sad.”

As if saying her name summoned her, she busts through the office door, surely running away from her governess again, her crimson curls loose from what looks to be the remnants of a braid.

“Papa! Papa!” She runs in and hides behind his legs as her governess comes in after her, out of breath and apologizing. Helion assures her that it’s alright and he’ll look after his daughter for a while. Venus reaches for one of the books I just placed on the table and I pick her up and bring her away from it. I get one of the other, replaceable, books from a shelf and hand it to her. She opens it to a random page before pretending to read, making up her own story.

(Three Days Later)

I roll the cart into the library and the female is nowhere to be seen. “Hello?” Silence. Eerie silence. I leave the cart near her table and start walking through the stacks. When I’m about to give up I spot the female in the very back balancing on the stool that’s supposed to be behind her desk, reaching for something on the top shelf, her tongue peaks out in concentration. As her fingers brush the object and the stool wobbles. “You want help?” Her head turns so fast I’m sure the stool will tip over but she holds onto the shelf in front of her. She looks like she’s about to give me a scolding until her eyes widen as she meets mine and realization dawns on her face. She turns away and starts to get down.

“No, no. It’s alright the ladder was old and it broke a little while ago. It’s not important, just a little extra organizing.” She bites her lip, facing me, back straight, chin high but eyes avoidant. “Do… you need something… sir- Lord?”

“Lucien.”

“Lord Lucien. Do you need anything?”

I chuckle and walk past her to where the stool is. “Just Lucien is fine. And no, I don’t need anything, I just came to drop off the things I came for a few days ago.” I put my knee on the stool for leverage and push myself up, easily grabbing what she needed from the top shelf.

“Thank you… Lucien,” she bows her head slightly and still won’t look me in the eye as she reaches for the box in my hand. I move it out of her reach, and pick up the stool before she can reach for that too. “I’ve got it,” I start walking back To her desk and she follows, eyeing me and the box like she’s expecting me to drop it. I pretend to and she gasps, desperately taking hold of the box and carrying it the rest of the way, setting it gently on her desk.

“You know… I won’t bite if you look at me.”

“Cause if you did, you’d want seconds,” the smirk comes and goes from her face, replaced by mortification as she scrambles for an apology. “I- I- I don’t know where that came from. I’m sorry, it was a reflex, I’m a bit of a jokester at heart, really I mean no offense.” I put both my hands on the table, leaning on it and chuckle at her flushed cheeks, she once again looks down at her table. It’s not a meek gesture, it’s not out of fear but out of respect, for my title, my station… but it is respect, regardless of what it stems from.

I can feel a smirk growing on my face as I concoct my response, “maybe I would,” she whips her head towards me. A hard expression taking over her features, her chin raised just a centimeter higher than humble. She looks me in the eyes for a second. Two. Three. Eyes flickering between russet and gold until her expression softens, her chin lowers and she goes back to looking at her table.

“Thank you for bringing them back. I’m sure you took great care of them…” she gestures to the cart I brought in, looking like she’s about to say more but doesn’t.

Maybe if you were honest but humble they’d warm to you on a personal level…

My father’s words bounce around in my head and I smirk, feeling remnants of my old, rakish self resurfacing for just a moment. She is a beautiful female as far as I can tell, her dress is modest and the library is dark but I'd take a chance, taking her into the sunny streets of the village nearby to see how she looks in that light. “What time do you get out of here? Maybe you can show me a few good places around here.” As if my father hadn’t shown me every nook and cranny of this court.

She blinks, “I don’t think you’d like the village at the time I get off.”

“Why not?”

“Not many fancy restaurants open at 3 am,” I gape slightly.

“3 am?!” She just nods.

“The other girl comes at 2:30 am and stays until 2:30 pm when I come back.”

“12 hour shifts?” She nods, “why so many hours?”

“These are the most ancient texts in the Day Court. This building is protected with every protection spell known to this Court’s High Lord. But they always want someone to look over the books and the artifacts and make sure they’re being taken care of.”

“So what? You don’t have a life?”

She scowls, “I have a life.”

I smirk, enjoying getting under her skin, “oh yeah? What do you do?” I challenge.

“I cook, and I eat, and I read and sleep, and … I…”

“Do everything that has absolutely nothing to do with having a life?” Another scowl. “When’s your day off?”

“Don’t have one,” she takes her stool and pulls it behind her table, sitting.

“Holidays?”

“I work through them.”

“What?!”

“The female who alternates with me has kids. I work holidays so she can be with them.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Mmmm… three years soon. When I first came to the Day Court. They needed someone to fill this position and I was new enough to the Court that I took anything I could get.”

I chuckle, “no wonder you didn’t know who I was, you’ve been living under a rock.”

“Maybe I like my rock,” her eyes narrow again.

“This is the Day Court. When was the last time you went out on a sunny day?”

“I have my lunch outside everyday. We aren’t allowed to eat in here. And I walk to and from work so I see plenty.” There’s no way. She has no idea what she’s missing. Some twisted part of me wants to take this innocent, good little thing and show her every bit of this court, shake up her world and burst this small bubble she’s been living in. To find out what makes her tick…

“I’m picking you up tonight. 3 am sharp.”

“Have you thought that I might have plans?”

“Do you have plans?” I smirk, knowing the answer.

“No, but I could have… had… plans.”

“3 am”

“I’ll be tired.”

“It won’t take long.”

“I’ll be stinky, this place smells of the dead.”

“I’ve stayed here this long, right? Plus, we’ll be outside, I’m sure your stench will be much more tolerable,” I smile and wink. Her hand goes to a mug holding pencils and old ink pens. I’m pretty sure that if we weren’t in such a delicate place and I wasn’t who she knows I am, she’d have thrown it at my head. I smirk and walk out, “see you later!”

I can’t believe I just did that. I haven’t even flirted with a female since the bond snapped with Elain! A weird feeling settles in my chest at the memory of such pain when she outright rejected the bond. I was sure I’d die, and she didn't care, didn’t even seem to feel a fraction of the chest crushing pain I did. I shake the thought away before I chicken out of tonight.

Reader POV

When Marianne walks in I’m ready to bolt out the door, grabbing my bag, hauling it over my shoulder and practically running out the door, hoping to avoid the Day Court heir. Maybe he was right, I have been living under a rock. Maybe I should’ve known who he was. Maybe I should be doing a lot of things. I have a calm, stable job that allows me to work on my own little projects and read my books while on the clock as long as I do everything I need to do for that day. And life is good. I don’t need to get involved with the royalty of this court, especially not for a handsome face. As I’m about to round the building and take the trail to my apartment a body comes into view. “Running away from me, pretty?” He twists a red rose between his fingers.

I roll my eyes, “no. Just a long day.”

“Great. Here,” he hands me the rose with the most feral smirk I’ve ever seen, “to mask your stench.” I bite my tongue to keep my own little come back from making an appearance. Reminding myself that he is Lucien SpellCleaver. He is the High Lord’s son. He is untouchable. “Come,” he speaks softly and extends his elbow for me. I take it, somewhat reluctantly. I take in his clothes; they aren’t usual for the Day Court. People here love wearing loose fitting clothing and as little of it as possible… he wears tight white pants, gold plated boots that raise to his thighs and a loose, cream tunic.

We walk and talk and walk and talk and walk some more. He carries the conversation, quickly catching on that I am not open to sharing. But he is. He tells me about his mother, his father and his sister. He tells me how she’s his world and how she treats him like he hung the moon, the sun and all the stars in the sky. Slowly but surely a smile appears on my face as he talks. Retelling stories of his sister’s shenanigans and how she likes to imitate him. How she is reluctant to go to her lectures and take baths and go to sleep, all because she wants her big brother.

Soon the sound of music fills my ears and I look around, seeing lights ahead. “We’re here,” he says. Earning a grumble from me about how it was about time. We walk closer and see fireflies illuminating the grassy field around a large fire. People are dancing and eating and laughing. Like a little local festival. I smile as kids run around us. “I love this part of the village. They’re not the most well off but the community is so warm and welcoming. They celebrate everything, sometimes nothing at all. I thought someone like you might appreciate it.”

“Someone like me?” I lift a brow.

“You spend your days surrounded by ancient texts that talk about our history. You really want me to believe you’ve never read any of it? It’s an aquired taste… but you learn to find joy in the simple things.”

“So I’m simple?” I say, unimpressed. His eyes narrow, the russet one darkening a shade.

“Stop being a brat and enjoy yourself.” His mechanical eye whirs and the russet one has a fire in it, only for a moment. The demand makes my cheeks heat, a heat that travels down to my core and I clench, hoping to keep the scent from reaching his keen, fae sense of smell. He walks us over to a food stand and they hand us some sort of wrap. I take a bite and moan at the explosion of flavor. “Is that what you sound like in bed?” That smirk again…

Fine. I’ll play along. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would.”

“Hasn’t the High Lord taught you that such flirtations can be looked down upon by your subjects?”

“They aren’t my ‘subjects,’ they’re my Court. And my father is a big believer of seizing the moment and enjoying life.” I ponder that while taking another bite of the delicious cuisine.

When we’re done eating he takes me to the dance floor. I hesitate but he pulls and pulls and ends up picking me up and taking me there despite my protests that I don’t dance, especially not the kind of dance they were doing… ”I’ve never been here, I don’t know how to move like they do,”

“They’re all doing their own thing. Ignore everyone and just dance with me!” He smiles, my body is stiff so he picks me up and places my feet atop his boots, doing all the work for me. We get a drink and keep dancing. I let loose after the second drink, feeling the liquid courage like electricity in my veins. The alcohol in the Day Court is much stronger than any other place I’ve been to, but it’s also the most delicious. There is such a variety! Sweet and bitter, spicy and soothing… I want to try it all but decide against it as Lucien spins me around and the world keeps moving even after he’s stopped. “Lightweight, are we?”

“I’m not lightweight! I’ve had more than you!” I playfully hit his arm. We laugh and eat some more, dance some more, drink some more… he walks me home and kisses my cheek.

From then on, everyday Lucien appears at the library during my shifts. Once he learns my schedule he starts to pop in to have lunch with me. And he’ll walk me home at unholy hours of the night, giving me flowers and taking me somewhere special along the way every once in a while. His sarcasm comes with a charm that I don’t think he can help. His little jabs make me roll my eyes and smile at the same time.

(Two months later)

“Go out with me.” It’s not a question.

I smile, “no.”

Every few days he’ll ask again. And again. And… again.

Come to dinner with me

Let me take you on a date

Come on, go out with me… please?

Always followed by a spicy comment and that sly smirk of his.

I’ll make it worth your while

You know you want me

I would treat you so good

Each and every line sends a tendril of pleasure down my spine. And every time…

No

What makes you think I’m interested?

Give up

But he doesn’t, he asks and asks until one night, we’re back at the same place he took me that first night. Fire burning, people dancing, music playing and he spins me around like I’m nothing but a feather in his arms. He sets me down gently and I look up at him. His fiery hair, his mismatched eyes, those perfect, possibly, probably tasty lips, parted as he pants slightly from all the dancing. My eyes land on the scars on the left side of his face. I lift my right hand to it, the other clutching his bicep. “How?” It’s barely a whisper, but he hears it and cringes, realizing what I’m touching, what I’m asking. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.”

“Who?”

“An evil queen,” he smirks.

“Oh… and you’re the knight in shining armor, are you?”

“At the time I was more of the silver tongued best friend of the knight in shining armor,” he smiles down at me, pulling me closer, only slightly. “But I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

Fuuuuuckkkk! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuckidy fuck fuck…

Fuck it.

I kiss him. hard and deep and full of passion. Would I say the two and a half drinks I had gave me enough courage? Yes. But he’s here, and I’m here and his lips are on mine and it’s heaven. It’s silk and it’s velvet and honey and cinnamon, it’s hot but gentle, firm but oh so sweet. And then he lifts me, wrapping his arms around my thighs, hugging them, not giving me a chance to wrap them around his waist and I’m in heaven, my head is higher than his and I’m in control. He gave me control. I could pull away and be out of his reach but I lean down and move my lips against his. I part my lips for him but he makes to move besides slightly nudging my nose with his. Refusing to take a step he’s not sure I’ll regret. So I take it, I snake my tongue past his parted lips and taste him. And there it is. His appearance screams Autumn Court and even though his scent has the softest hint of aloe vera among the pine and cinnamon and oak, Lucien tastes like Day. It’s inexplicable. He tastes like light. He tastes like all the best things in the world combined, like the land of milk and honey that they pray to the Mother about.

We part and I kiss his scar. I kiss over the marred eyelid and down his cheek, onto his jaw. He lets out a breath. Of arousal? Relief? I don’t know. But the way he says my name…

“(Y/N)”

The sound that comes from me is not appropriate for the current setting so he puts me down and scrambles for my bag, the rose he gave me earlier today poking out the opening. He throws me over his shoulder and runs to my apartment, climbing the stairs until we’re at my door and he puts me down, kissing me again. He doesn’t ask me to open my door. Doesn’t ask me for the keys. He makes no move to go inside and it only makes me want him more.

He pulls away, “go out with me? On a date. A real date.” He presses his forehead to mine. He’s never quite asked those sorts of questions, he’s more so told me to go on a date with him, firm, confident but tonight his voice is borderline begging and through my daze I smirk.

“Will you make it worth my while?”

He smiles and nods, “every second.” He kisses me again but soon we both realize it needs to end. I go into my apartment and he goes back to his palace. I ponder over my night as I bathe and get ready for bed. I can’t do this. The heir of Day? I facepalm and fall down onto my bed, cursing my horny self until I fall asleep.

For our first date Lucien pays the owner of his favorite restaurant to stay open until 4 am. It’s perfect. The soft string music, the food, the bottle of wine he chose and the fae light illuminating the only table occupied. Then he takes me to the observatory and shows me the stars up close.

Dating Lucien is as easy as breathing. He puts great amounts of effort into everything he does and never misses a chance to reassure me and make sure I know that my arms are the ones he wants around his neck, that it’s my lips he wants against his. He never hesitates to kiss me, no matter where we are. He’s playful and lighthearted but also ready and willing to open up and be vulnerable, as hard as it is. Which, in turn, encourages me to do the same.

The first time I let Lucien stay the night I make him promise to behave. Which he does. He showers and changes into sweats and then I shower and change into some modest sleepwear. Besides a few kisses and his hand around my waist, Lucien is the perfect gentlemale. So, in the morning, I decide to surprise him with waffles… wearing his tunic from the night before. I make everything from scratch and as I pour the batter on the hot metal over the fire, warm hands come around my waist.

“It smells delicious,” he kisses my head. Then my temple. Then my cheek and my jaw. Then down my neck and ooohhh… gods.

“You behaved so well last night I thought you deserved a treat!” I smirk.

“Mhmm,” he mumbles as he continues his assault on my neck. He takes one of the cooking waffles and bites into it. “These are amazing!”

“I wasn’t talking about the waffles,” I smirk.

He leans down to my ear and I put away the rest of the batter. “(Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t joke like that.”

“Who said it was a jo-ahhhhh!” He slings me over his shoulder and marches to the bedroom like a male on a mission.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes!”

“Are you sure?” The desperation in his voice is prominent and only makes me want him more.

“Yes!” I chuckle. He worships my body, feeling for it like a blind male trying to memorize a line of text. “You… oh! You can be rougher if you want.”

“How rough?” He nips at my ear.

I smirk, “how ever rough you wanna be.” With a growl he only holds back enough to have me pick a safe word before ravaging me in the most delicious ways.

Sex with Lucien is… it simply is. There’s no feeling like it. The fluidity in it. The way he can so effortlessly go from making love with slow, deep strokes to flipping me over and practically breeding me is mind boggling. He’s not afraid to share his kinks and explore my own. And I can never tell what he’ll be in the mood for. Sometimes he’ll want to do nothing but torture and tease me half the night. Others, he’s feral, wanting nothing but to fill me as many times as he can. And some nights, all he wants is to hold my hips tightly as I ride him and call him ‘my good boy.’

Four months into our relationship and I’ve been putting off meeting his family for weeks. I can tell he doesn’t want to push but also doesn’t understand my hesitation. Meeting the parents is a big deal and I’m not ready for the pressure… though putting it off has proven to be more stressful than getting it over with lately. So, here I stand, 8 am, with enchanted flowers in one hand and a book in the other and Lucien’s hand on the small of my back. He refused to let me bring food, stating that his family was hosting breakfast, so I've spent the past week wracking my brain for gifts for his parents. “I can’t.”

“You can!”

“I’m gonna throw up…” and he kisses me.

“You’ll be fine. I’ve got you,” his smile is reassuring and his eyes hold no lies. But my mind, my heart, knows that after everything he’s been through. All the things he was willing to share. He would never choose me over his family, at least… not this one. So his attempt at reassurance, for once, falls flat.

His parents come to meet us at the front steps and my legs shake as I curtsy. His mother clicks her tongue, “oh none of that!” She pulls me into a hug that I hesitate to reciprocate due to the suddenness of it. The High Lord laughs at his High Lady’s excitement and kisses my hand once she lets me go. Now I see where Lucien gets his charm…

“Come,” the High Lord’s voice is warm and inviting, “breakfast is being served on the veranda.” He wraps an arm around his lady’s waist and Lucien does the same to me and guides me around the palace. His parents are incredibly welcoming and I notice neither of them wear their crowns or any other marker that would separate them from the common folk.

“Here…” I hand the enchanted flowers to the High Lady, “they’ll stay in bloom for several years.” Then I turn to the High Lord and offer him the hardcover book, “Lucien mentioned you liked his works and I got my hands on an advanced copy of the next book in the series. It’s yours to keep.” He examines the book, the 15th in a fantasy series that had put many readers in a chokehold. The High Lord lets out an excited chuckle before putting an arm around me and whispering to Lucien something about me ‘being a keeper.’ I smile at the compliment and he leads me the rest of the way to the breakfast table, covered in all kinds of dough and jams and juices… everything looks delicious!

It takes a few minutes but I relax, the High Lady not hesitating to ask me every question that pops into her mind. But I’m happy to oblige until…

“Mommy?” A high pitched, clearly sleepy voice asks from the door. All our heads turn to see the newcomer, “why are you having breakfast so early?!” She whines and rubs her eyes. The Day Court is known for late mornings. The High Lord and Lady, being aware of my schedule, offered an earlier breakfast since they were so eager to meet me.

Lady Day picks up her daughter and explains, “we’re meeting Lucien’s girlfriend today, dear. She has to be at work in a few hours so we wanted to meet her while accommodating her schedule.” Her sleepy eyes follow her mother’s finger that’s outstretched towards me. The small female’s eyebrows furrow and before I can fully raise my hand to wave she turns her head and places it on her mother’s shoulder. “Oh come, Vena! Be nice,” the High Lady looks to me then, “she’s… shy. And grumpy in the morning” I nod, even though that sounded nothing like the little girl Lucien has so often described to me.

“You know, Vena… (Y/N) and I were thinking we could take you for ice cream this afternoon during her lunch break.”

“No, thank you,” the little female mumbles into her mother’s shoulder. The slight sting of rejection reaches my body and I fidget, no longer feeling at ease here. Breakfast goes on and the small female doesn’t eat anything, opting to keep her head hidden in her mother’s neck and away from me.

As Lucien and I start to make our way out of the palace, his hand around my waist when we reach footsteps and his arm is yanked from my waist as Venus tugs him back. “Lushy, come play!”

He crouches down to her level and ruffles her hair, “I’ll walk (Y/N) to work and then we can play! Dad and I only have meetings in the evening. And maybe you can rethink that ice cream with me and (Y/N)?” His back is to me but I see the slight nod he gives in my direction. The female simply folds her arms, furrows her eyebrows and pouts.

“It’s ok, Loosh…” I cautiously interrupt, “I can walk to work.” I give him a smile as he turns his head to me, still crouching down.

“No, I want to walk you, her and I have all afternoon,” that million dollar smile appears again and he kisses his sister’s chubby cheeks before standing. I want him to stay. Maybe if I can prove to Venus that I’m not stealing Lucien away she’ll warm to me.

He takes my hands and I squeeze his, “you should stay,” I look down at the pouting female who doesn’t meet my eye. “Maybe you can convince her to get ice cream later,” I smile encouragingly and rise on the balls of my feet to kiss his cheek. He sighs but complies. “Bye Venus!” I smile at her and wave but she doesn’t look, I bite my lip and walk towards the large open doors of the Palace. I don’t look back, but I can hear Lucien quietly scolding her for being rude and her lively changing the subject to what she wants to play.

Around 3 pm Lucien shows up, alone, with two ice creams obviously enchanted not to melt. “Couldn’t convince her, huh?”

He sighs and hands me my ice cream, “no.” He doesn’t say anything else because there is nothing to say. A few minutes pass before I ask the question that’s been bouncing around in my head since I left the palace.

“Do you think there’s anything I can do?”

“She’s… territorial.”

“I’m not stealing you away.” A part of me fears he may believe that’s what I’m trying to do.

“I know that,” he kisses my head with a chuckle, scooching closer. “But she’s little and she’s a bit used to having her way. And I’ll say it; I’m partially responsible. I’ve never had a sibling I was close to and she loves me so much I- I can’t tell her ‘no.’”

I kiss his cheek, remembering all he told me about growing up in Autumn, “I know.”

Lucien smoothly changes the subject to a lighter topic and exerts his power of putting me at ease.

By our 8th month together I’m a somewhat regular visitor to the Day Court Palace. I’ve stayed the night once or twice and the High Lady braided my hair each of those mornings, much to Venus’ distress. Her crimson curls are still too short to braid like mine and her mother tries to appease her with bows and clips but to no avail. I’ve tried and tried to gain her approval but it’s quite clear the small female never wants to be in my company. Soon enough I start to believe there’s something wrong with me… kids can sense those thighs, right? When someone isn’t a good person? Maybe she can sense something the others can’t. And it seems like she will do anything to make me go away at every chance she gets.

Like the time I came looking for Lucien one morning only to find him in the palace’s library with Venus on his shoulder holding a book for her big brother;

“Hey there you two!” I greet.

“Hey!” He greets me with a kiss, “I wasn’t expecting you this morning.”

“I had some time and I wanted to bring you these,” I hand him a tray of cupcakes, “my friend had the amazing idea of making cupcakes last night after a few glasses of wine but they didn’t turn out half bad!”

He laughs and looks at the cupcakes, “I hope they taste better than they look?”

“Trust me they - ow!” A hard object comes crashing down on my head and my hand flies to the point of impact.

A soft giggle and a sang out, “sowy,” has Lucien pulling his sister off his shoulders and reprimanding her. She pouts but looks disinterested in his lecture. He puts her down to examine the bump forming on my hairline and she tugs at his pants in protest.

“No, Vena! You could’ve really hurt her!” At his reprimand she huffs and pushes my leg before running out of the library. Lucien fusses over me but the sting on my head is nothing compared to the fire in my veins.

“Go after her.”

“She’s fine.” He tries to move my hand that’s covering the spot the book hit.

“No. I’m fine. Just go after her, I need to go to work anyway.” I take a deep breath and set the cupcake down on a nearby table. He follows, hovering behind me.

“You’re angry?” He’s confused?!

“No.” Yes, “she needs you more than I do,” she does. I turn to kiss his cheek and he goes to kiss my lips. I kiss back but it’s half assed and I kick myself for it. She’s 3, almost 4 years old! How am I letting a child get under my skin like this?

I walk out of the library in a rush, leaving Lucien there with a slight frown on his perfect lips.

Or the time I got off early from work to join them for dinner;

“It’s so lovely to have you around. Lucien seems so much happier when you’re here, like there’s a lightheartedness only you bring out in him.” The High Lady sips her wine as we sit on the balcony after dinner. Below us, Lucien and Helion are sparring, the sight of his bare, scared chest making it hard not to think about how every single inch of that chest feels under my fingers. How I’ve kissed each scar and the sounds he made when I did….

I need a cold shower.

I seemingly get my wish as cold, freezing water pours on my head. My yelp causing the sparring to cease. The cold night air much more prominent now. We all look up to see a giggling Venus holding an empty glass through the marble pillars that make up the balcony above. Her governess rushes to reprimand her and the High Lady rushes to apologize and gets me something to dry myself with. The High Lord offers me a spare room and bath but I decline and Lucien walks me home even after I tell him several times I want to walk alone.

“You could’ve spent the night…”

“You know I don’t like to.”

He sighs, “I don’t like that you don’t like it,” we reach my door and before I can put the key in the lock he takes my hands. “I’m sorry about tonight. I don’t know why Venus keeps doing these things-”

“Because she doesn’t like me.”

“That’s not true!”

“Yes! It is! And no matter what I do she won’t like me. I’ve tried. I get her gifts and she rolls her eyes or she’ll say she already has that toy. I give her compliments and she acts like I don’t exist! I offer her ice cream, candies, baked goods or even fun activities and she looks at me like I’m a peasant begging for scraps! I can’t even be near you in her presence without getting something thrown, poured or yanked off me!”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“And it’s gonna work this time?” He opens his mouth but ends up biting his lip. And I know this is the beginning of the end. I’d never ask him to choose, that’d be petty and idiotic. And relationships tend not to work if the family doesn’t like one’s partner. “Good night, Loosh.” I kiss him. Deeply, like it’s the last time, before opening my door and heading inside, deciding to take a hot bath.

25 days….

25 days before our one year anniversary and I’m thinking of if I should end it. How I should end it. I sit in the library, having finished all my filing and paperwork early, trying to read my book but I can’t concentrate. My thoughts are too loud.

I know Lucien knows his sister dislikes me but he keeps making excuses!

She’s a prankster

She’s a little jealous, she’s never shared me before

You’re my females, you’ll get along eventually

No. We won’t. We haven’t. And the more time I spend with him, the more time I spend at the palace, the more I realize how this relationship is bound to end. So I sit in my sad little stool and cry.

17 days…

I’m at Day Court Palace early in the morning and I wait for Lucien in his study. I sit there for a moment, I’ve only been in his study a handful of times and never for long. So I leisurely browse the books on his shelves, the maps framed on his walls and after I’ve done about three, slow rounds around the room I allow myself to sit in his chair and look around. I catch a glimpse of a frame on his desk, it’s the letter I wrote him for Solstice, given along with some gift I hated. What do you even give to a male who has it all? So I gave him love and affection. I told him in writing how much he means to me and how much hope I have for us and this relationship.

I frown.

Had. I had hope for it.

I reach for the frame and accidentally knock the trash can under his desk over, “shit.” I push the chair back and get down on my hands and knees to pick up the loose papers. Putting everything back in the bin, a flash of color catches my eye in a crumpled paper. Not a ball but like it was clenched in a fist and tossed aside. I open it up, even though I shouldn’t, in curiosity. The air is taken from me and tears brim my eyes. It’s me. Drawn in crayon, the colorful picture leaves nothing to the imagination regarding how Venus feels about me. The almost 3 year old drew my hair a mess, my clothes in tatters! Sharp teeth, claws, horns and stinky lines above my head. An arrow going from the wrong spelling of my name with a few letters written backwards.

And then there was Lucien, drawn much smaller and with swirls for eyes, like I’m hypnotizing him. I fold the paper, as small as I can and clench it in my hand. I wipe my eyes and take a deep breath. I write Lucien a note and leave it on his desk. Some bull shit about needing to be at the library earlier than expected and I take off, holding myself back from running out of the palace., praying to any gods listening that I don’t bump into any member of the High family.

12 days….

I’ve been putting it off. It’s too hard. Everytime I look at him my heart clenches, begging me to stay, To keep him with me. But then that picture pops into my head and I find myself fighting tears. The drawing lies hidden inside an old book in my nightstand drawer and I think it’s what’s keeping me from sleeping. The day I found the drawing I had been at the palace to tell Lucien that the Library acquired a third person to work there and I now have one day off a week! And I still haven’t told him.

I fooled him two days ago, going to sit at my usual picnic table by the library around my lunch hour but I don’t know if I have the strength to get out of bed today.

But, alas, I do.

I go to the palace, at Lucien’s request from last night, so he can walk me to work. And after two excuses weren’t enough to deter him from walking me, I gave in.

I meet him at the entrance and he kisses me and I go on my tippy toes to deepen it. For a moment everything is ok… it’s moments like these that make me want to stay, makes me want to put up with anything Venus is willing to plan for, to stay here, in this moment, in his arms.

The moment is short lived as I feel a force crash against my leg, causing me to lose my footing and if Lucien wasn’t so fast I’d have hit the floor. I look down to where the impact happened and a pouting Venus stands there, her mother in tow.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N)!” The High Lady apologizes, giving her daughter a dangerous look.

“It’s alright,” I wave off. She’s done worse.

My face might be showing more than I intended because the High Lady’s eyes soften when she meets mine. Offering an apologetic yet understanding expression.

Lucien crouches to her level, “come on Vena… stop this!” He practically begs his sister, tugging at her arms to get her to uncross them but she won’t budge, turning away from him and raising her arms to her mother. My heart aches. I did this. I, somehow, caused this rift between them. I need to do it. Now!

But then he looks at me and I can’t… “I’m sorry about her…” he rubs the back of his neck and I shake my head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he takes my hand, surely ready to walk me to work like everything is fine. “Maybe you should spend some time with her,” I nod to Venus, still clinging to the High Lady.

Lucien shakes his head, “I spent all day with her yesterday and I miss you,” he presses his forehead to mine.

Don’t. Cry. “I missed you too…” I don’t know if I can make it to the library without crying. “But she still needs you. It’s only twenty minutes to the library, I think I’ll survive,” I smile.

“But you walked all the way here! And I want to.”

Before I can respond Venus lets out an unimpressed whine and I want to run out of there. “Maybe she needs more ‘brother time,’” I offer a big smile and force it to reach my eyes.

Lucien deflates a bit but then looks at Venus and sighs, a signal that he’ll comply. “I’ll see you tonight though,” it’s not a question.

I nod, “I’ll see you tonight,” and I back away, letting my hands slip out of his as he stretches out his arms, holding me for as long as he can. As I turn I catch a glimpse of Lady Day, Venus’ face tucked into her neck and that apologetic and understanding expression gaining a hint of sadness.

I was right. I don’t make it to the library without crying.

Lucien comes for lunch and I’m sure he can tell something’s off. I’m quieter through lunch but I tell him it’s a headache and he seems to leave it be.

He picks me up at the end of my shift and takes me to another late night festival. We always have fun at these and I want to cry at how poetic ending this relationship on a night like this feels. I steal every kiss I can. I don’t drink, not a sip. I want this memory untainted. I relish in every last; a last meal, a last laugh, a last hug and dance and whispered words made of honey.

We’re dancing slowly, slightly away form the crowd, my head on his chest, taking in his scent like a female in heat when he speaks up. “You know… we’ve been together almost a year.”

“Yeah.” I look up at him, his eyes are full of something I can’t place.

“And there’s something we need to talk about,” oh gods. He’s gonna do it! I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. If he ends it then I don’t have to, I can have it easy and just cower away once all is said and done. “I know it’s early, but I want you to know…”

Oh no! No, no, no! I read it all wrong! I finally place the emotion on his eyes; love.

No. This can’t be happening. Before he can utter another word, my own come tumbling out of me like word-vomit, “we’re done.”

He chuckles, “We’ll go in a second I need to get this off my chest.”

“No. Lucien…” I back away from his hold slightly, his hand on my biceps and mine on his forearms. “We are done. I-” Be brave. Lift your chin and stay strong. I tell myself. “I’m breaking up with you.” I barely keep my voice from breaking but the silent tears are enough to leave me raw for him to see.

“What?” His question is soft. Innocent.

“I can’t do this-”

“Be with me?”

“Yes.”

A beat. Two. Three… gods. “Why?” I give him a knowing, yet, sad look. He puts a hand on my cheek, “(Y/N)…”

“I’m sorry. But I can’t. It’s never going to work out if she doesn’t like me and I’ve accepted the fact that she doesn’t. She’s your sister and she comes first. I can’t-”

“I’ll talk to her. I’ll make her understand this time. She’ll warm up to you! I swear!” I’ve never heard him so desperate and it breaks my heart. So much so that I can do little more than shake my head. My cheeks are wet with new and old tears alike. And his eyes are shining with unshed tears too, one slides down his cheek as he blinks. “No,” he breathes, urging me to go back on my decision.

“Yes,” I counter.

“No!”

“Lucien… I can’t do it. I can’t. Me. It’s hurting me.” I gesture to myself. “It’s not just the pranks and the pushing and that scowl she gives me. It’s the fact that she doesn’t like me and worse than that she’s made it clear to everyone! I don’t want to be the reason there’s a rift between you.” I take a step back.

He takes a step forward, “you’re not causing a rift.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” I give him a look that says, don’t lie to me.

“(Y/N) please!”

“You can’t say you didn’t see thi-”

“Don’t do this!”

“Lucie-”

“You want me to beg?” He drops to his knees, holding my waist, “I’ll beg!”

“Get up.”

“(Y/N)!”

“Lucien!” I try to get free from his grip but he holds me tight. People look and walk away slightly so we get the illusion of privacy and the band starts to play a notch louder. “Get. Up.”

He shakes his head and looks up into my eyes, “I love you! There. I said it. I love you! That’s what I was going to tell you.”

I cry more, shaking my head. “It doesn’t change the fac-”

“Do you love me?”

“What?”

“Do you love me?! Do you love me back?”

“Lucien…”

“Answer!” He yells. Yes. I want to say. I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you. I love you. I love you. I want to tell him in every way, in every language, twice over for good measure.

“No.”

He deflates. “You’re lying,” he’s sure of himself. I see it in his eyes. There’s no doubt that he knows I love him back and me not saying it doesn’t change the fact that I do.

I finally get out of his hold. He’s on his feet in an instant scrambling to keep a hold of my hands, my wrists, my arms, anything he can grab a hold of to keep me here. I snake my hands away but he keeps chasing them with his own. Every step back for me is just another half step forward for him.

And he begs again, “(Y/N) please! I’ve spent my entire life begging to be loved. Yearning for a love like this! I spent so long thinking I’d never get it, that I don’t deserve it! After my mate rejected me I thought fate had forsaken me and that I was destined to be alone. And when Venus was born I took it as a sign, a sign that I would not be the one to continue my blood line… and then you,” his voice breaks, he still scrambles to catch my avoidant hands. “You give me all I wanted and more… for free. You ask for nothing in return and more than that you make me feel like I actually deserve it! So please, don’t take it away. Stay. Please! Please. Please…”

“You are loved, Lucien. Despite me. You have the loving family you’ve always deserved, you have a sister who loves you to death!”

“That’s not the kind of love I’m talking about and you know it!” He repremends.

I sigh and cup his face, “I am not your person. But she’s out there. And you will find her. And if you truly believe you love me, the wrong person… imagine how much you’ll love the right one when she comes along,” he closes his eyes, leaning into my touch and shaking his head.

“I did find her.” When he opens his eyes I see defeat. I drop my hand form his cheek and try to think of something to say. Something to soothe his aching heart…

But there is nothing.

I back away and he doesn’t follow. I back away again but his feet are planted to his spot. I take a deep breath, taking him in again one last time before the tears blur him to me, allowing my body to turn around and fully walk away from him. I don’t remember getting home or bathing or eating but I wake up with wet hair and dirty dishes the next morning and for the first time since I started working at the library, I send a request to have one of the others fill in for my shift for the next few days.

Lucien’s POV

I cry all the way back to the palace, forcing my breathing to be steady despite how hard my heart is beating against my ribs. I go into a random room, throwing a vase at the wall before crumpling down onto a couch and crying into my hands.

“Darling?” Mom’s soft voice sounds from the door and I can hear her soft, slipper-covered steps making their way to me. “I heard a crash, are you-” a soft gasp leaves her lips as she takes me in. “Oh, dear… I’m so sorry,” she sits beside me and rubs my arms, laying her head on my shoulder. “I didn’t think she’d do it so soon…”

My head whips to her, “what?”

“Well, come now, you must’ve known… or… well… perhaps you didn’t see...”

“See what?”

She bites her lip, “I knew that Venus’ actions bothered her but it wasn’t until this morning that I saw it in her eyes. The resolve, the hurt…”

My blood heats and the fireplace comes to life at my anger, “and you didn’t tell me?” I hiss.

“I was going to warn you tonight. I thought you had more time… I am sorry.”

I cry into her arms, “I love her, mom. I can’t stop thinking about her. She’s everything. I couldn’t wait to spend the rest of my days by her side. I would give her anything! Anything she wanted I’d give… but the one thing she needed… it wasn’t even mine to give.” I lay on her lap as her thin fingers comb through my hair.

I’m almost asleep when the door opens and shuts, a soft, sleepy voice calls out, “mommy? Mommy, I can’t go back to sleep.”

Venus slowly makes her way to us and I pretend to be asleep. My mother answers her, “what woke you up, sweetheart?”

“I needed potty,” I can hear her yawn.

“Oh! At least you woke up this time, that’s good right?”

There’s a pause before she asks, “why’s Lushy here?”

“Lushy had a rough night,”

“Was (Y/N) mean to him?” Her tone is accusatory, only proving (Y/N) right and it takes everything in me to keep my body from shaking with a guttural sob.

My mother sighs, “(Y/N) won’t be coming around anymore, Venus.”

“Really?” She sounds excited…

“Your brother is very upset by it,” my mother reprimands, “please have some sympathy.”

“Sim- siam- sapaty?”

“Sympathy. Please understand that he’s hurting and don’t look too overjoyed at it.”

“Why did she go?”

Mom lets out another sigh, “it’s complicated, sweetheart.”

“Is this grown up stuff again?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Awwweeeee!” I hear her yawn again and I hear shuffling. Probably the sound of her climbing onto the couch on mom’s other side.

About what feels like an hour later mom whispers, “she’s asleep. Go to bed, darling… at least try to rest.”

I don’t move for a few minutes before getting up and wordlessly going to my room. I bathe in scalding water before plopping down in bed and crying myself to sleep.

The next morning I stay in bed until my hunger forces me to scavenge for food. I’d usually ask the servants to prepare something but I’m not looking forward to any fae interactions. I head to the extremely large kitchen and ask one of the kitchen members I know by name for some of last night's left overs. The kitchen makes little portions of what we don’t eat for either them to take home or to be donated the next day. She hands me a box with yesterday's date on it and I thank her, grabbing a fork and eating on the staff’s table in the kitchen. I use my powers to heat up my food, deciding that eating it cold to torture my self is a little much.

On my way back to my room Vena practically runs into me as she runs away from her governess, “Lushy! Come play with me!”

I shake my head, “I’m not feeling well, Vena, maybe some other time?”

She pouts and then lunges for my leg, hugging it, “I hope you feel betta!”

I hold in tears as I pick her up and kiss her chubby cheeks. She holds my face in her tiny hands and says, “I love you Lushy! Best big brodda ever!” She kisses between my eyebrows and I put her down, telling her to behave for her governess. She runs along accepting that I’m in no condition to play.

I wobble back to my room and collapse back on the bed, crying until I’m dehydrated and I fall asleep again. I can’t fix this. I can’t get her back and I can’t make Vena like her. I’m lost… and she’s lost to me.

[utterlyotterlyx]

White Flag

Cassian x Rhys!Sister Reader

Summary - There had never been a moment where you and Cassian had seen eye to eye, despite his attempts to make peace and make a friend of you, it wasn't something that you wanted.

Warnings - angst, swearing, teasing, back and forth banter, mentions of blood

The Day Court had become your home from the moment you had decided that you couldn't bear to be around Cassian any longer. Luckily, Helion was a good friend of yours even if he wasn't overly fond of your brother and his inner circle. and granted you sanctuary before you had even finished asking him the question.

A part of you didn't even know how it had all started, that outlandish flare of dramatic hatred that passed between you whenever you were too close. Maybe he was threatened by your athletic prowess and strength, maybe you despised how often a new female ended up in his bed

Things had come to an abrupt head when you had punched him square in the nose for making a comment about your mood, asking if your cycle was drawing near. Blood gushed from his nostrils and he stuttered back a few steps, cradling the now broken bone and groaning as blood dripped onto the floor.

"Why is he bleeding?" Rhys had enquired after entering the room, sensing the stench of blood through the closed door of his office.

Cassian stood by the sink, bloody rag clasped around the injured affect, "Because he's an idiot," you replied with astounding calmness, feet propped up on the arm of the chair and your fingers flipping idly through the pages of your book.

"I didn't know that idiocy caused people to just start spontaneously bleeding from the nose."

You had hummed, a smirk pulling at your lips when you noticed Cassian's hazel gaze ripping through you, "I think it's a new phenomenon."

Rhys had usually kept out of your spats, like the rest of the inner circle, they knew your sass was not something to play with, it was unfortunate how Cassian skipped over that fact.

Then there were the countless family dinners that were interrupted, and sometimes ruined, by your joint fire.

"You know, Cassian," his ears pricked upward but his eyes narrowed, he'd like to believe that maybe for once you'd say something nice to him, to stop this feud between you, "Remember that one time I said that you were cool?" He nodded, falling victim to another one of your games as the room held a collective breath, Rhys already pinching the bridge of his nose, "I lied."

Cassian growled, slamming his fork down on the table and standing from his seat, the chair skidding along the wood with his brute force, "I can't help imagining how much more awesome the world would be if your dad had just pulled out."

You were smirking, that shit-eating smirk you always wore when you managed to get him to bite, "Please, save your breath, Cassian," you cooed obnoxiously, popping a honey soaked carrot into your mouth, "You'll probably need it to blow up your next date."

Azriel had choked on his wine and you spared him a sidelong glance, convincing yourself that if Cassian's red face turned one shade darker then he'd surely erupt in flames.

Then there were the missions that Rhys had assigned you and Cassian to, he thought forcing you two to work together would put an end to the nonsense that was your tiff. Azriel was the unlucky one who had to accompany you both so that you didn't wind up killing one another.

An ash arrow hurtled past your face, grazing the tip of your pointed ear, you had dodged its full puncture successfully and heaved out a sigh as you took cover behind a nearby tree, "Oh my gosh, did you see that?! I almost just died!"

Cassian had sauntered past you, sword coated in the blood of your enemies, strands of brown hair falling from his bun, and dirt dusting the side of his face, he grinned at you, "Tragic that you didn't."

Azriel audibly groaned, sick of both of you, it had been three full days of trudging around the outskirts of the winter court, he was freezing, Cassian was making his head pound with his constant complaining, and you were certainly catching a cold.

The Shadowsinger had finally had enough when he had heard you and Cassian arguing at the edge of the clearing, the latter had gone to bathe, to wipe away the blood and dirt from his skin, only to turn around and find that his clothes had been plucked from the bank.

"I didn't do it," you told him through laughs as Azriel approached, Cassian was stood in the water up to his impeccable v line, fists clenched and seething through his teeth as his body shivered from the cold.

"Then why are you laughing?!"

You were leaned against the trunk of a tree, clad in your warm clothing that Rhys had insisted you wear, badass or not, you were still his little sister, "Because whoever did it is a freaking genius."

Rhys had had enough of it. Of all of it.

An ultimatum had been delivered to you both, after being pulled into Rhys' office by the scruffs of your necks by Azriel, you had been told that one of you had to move out of the House of Wind permanently. Though, Rhys' plans of keeping you apart had completely backfired when you had stood up and told him that you were leaving the Night Court altogether, the words shaking the room enough that even Cassian felt guilty that your feud had become so severe that you actually wanted to leave your home court.

"And go where?" Rhys had rose, that power pulsating around him like a heartbeat, a drowning effect that made you all feel dizzy as his eyes darkened and jaw clenched.

"The Day Court," you stated like it was already decided, "Helion has offered me a place within his court and I accepted. I leave tonight."

"Over my dead body!" Rhys rumbled, it was deadly enough for even Azriel's shadows to cower behind him whilst Cassian looked at you bewildered.

Ticking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, you quipped, "Well, go lay down and die then because I'm not going to be told what to do, especially not by you."

"You are my sister. You are a Princess of the Night Court."

"And I am allowed to make my own decisions regarding my life and future," you looked to Cassian and frowned, your eyes dipped with an emotion he'd never seen in you, "And, right now, my life is not here."

That was how you found yourself within Helion's court, doused in white and gold, with tanned skin from the bright never-ending sun, with your toes dipped in sand and the ocean breeze drifting through your hair.

It had been a year since you had left Velaris, and gods, you missed the City of Starlight so much. The Day Court was wonderful, beautiful in its own incredible way, but it wasn't Velaris, your home.

Helion had found you walking along the sandy shores when you should have been readying yourself for the ball starting in a few hours. Rhys and the entirety of your former family were visiting to celebrate the announcement of Feyre's pregnancy, stopping in every court bar Autumn and Spring to spread the joy, to signal a new age for Prythian after all of the torment they had been subjected to.

"I would have thought you'd be ready by now," Helion noted, watching your cream coloured dress float in the breeze, you held your shoes between your fingers and gazed outward to the ocean.

You hummed, "Part of me isn't looking forward to it," you admitted.

The time you had spent in the Day Court had made you softer, had given you a new perspective. There was much more to love in life than arguing and feuding, and you had spent a little over two weeks trying to figure out why you and Cassian could never seem to get along.

Helion draped an arm over your shoulder, his golden crown shimmering in the sunlight that was usually focused on you, focused on making your skin glitter and smile, "It's been a year since you left, I'm sure they're all looking forward to seeing you."

"Or telling me how much easier their lives have been without me," you laughed sadly, slumping into his side softly as he turned to lead you back up to the palace.

"You're a changed woman now, Y/N. I think that more than anything they'll just be happy to see you thriving."

Fuck.

You were so late. So late that it would be noted as disrespectful no matter how much longer you took. Helion was right, you should have been readying yourself much earlier rather than trailing your toes in the sand.

Helion had gone to great lengths to secure you the most spectacular dress anyone had ever seen. A rich gold garment that snaked tightly around your breasts and curved perfectly over your thighs and ass, no sleeves attached to it, but he had gifted you a set of matching arm cuffs and one for your thigh which was exposed by a high slit, as well as ear cuffs which gave a subtle nod to the Day Courts abilities to hone their gifts of invention.

You were practically running down the halls whilst putting your heels on and clasping your necklace around your neck, taking a sharp left which you knew would lead you to a more secluded entrance where you hoped you could slip in unnoticed.

Sliding through the small opening in the wall, you ducked your way along the length of the room, popping up and smoothing your dress out before reaching for the nearest passing tray of flutes, downing half of the liquid to make it seem like you had been there for longer than you had.

"Very smooth, Y/N," A familiar voice purred with amusement laced in his voice, you turned to find Azriel stood behind you, he looked surprised as he took you in, acknowledging the tanned hue and glow that had possessed your skin, your violet eyes seemed a shade or two lighter than Rhys'.

"Az," you breathed, placing your flute down on the table beside you and throwing yourself into his open arms, you both laughed, and he inhaled your scent, salted summer oceans and velvety rose petals.

Pulling back, you smiled up at him brightly, showing all of your teeth. It was like Day had thrown up on you, though, Azriel couldn't deny that gold most certainly agreed with you. Another force jolted into your side and you lifted your arm to find Mor bundled into your ribs, squeezing you tightly and refusing to let go to the point you had to physically unwind her from you.

"I've missed you so much," her bottom lip wobbled as tears gathered in her eyes, you reached for her, wiping the stray droplets with your thumb.

"You know I'm only like ten minutes away from you, right?"

"Not the point, Y/N," a deep voice drawled, it made you shiver, and before you could even properly move to find the owner, you were already gathered up in his arms, "Hello, little sister."

"Hi, Rhys," your eyes found Feyre stood a few feet away from you, a hand cradling her swelling bump, you moved to her, looking down at that bump, "Congratulations, I'm so happy for you."

Rhys couldn't deny that you seemed different, that you had changed since the night you had left Velaris after your argument, after the ultimatum he had wrongfully forced on you. Feyre had told him that you would be fine, that you deserved to see what life could be outside of Velaris, that you would one day come home to them a different woman than the one who had left.

They all watched as Feyre guided your hands to her stomach and you felt your nephew wriggling around and kicking, "Hey, stop kicking your mama," you had bent down to whisper, "She's been through enough," and the little thing within her halted, settling into a comfortable position and Feyre sighed with relief.

Straightening your posture, you took your flute and took another sip, feeling overwhelmed by all you had missed, "I'll be back in a minute," you told them, Rhys moved to follow after you but Feyre stopped him, she knew how much it must have been for you, she was always the understanding one.

Your usual haven was empty when you had reached it, a white stone balcony at the end of a secluded hallway that looked out onto the lapping waves colliding with the mountain upon which the Day Court Palace lay.

A single tear flowed down your face and you heaved in a breath, trying to control yourself by clutching onto the stone railing. Your hair whipped around your face, and the fire lanterns flickered in the breeze.

"I know that we aren't friends, but if you need me to punch somebody out, you know I can and will," the voice you used to grimace at called to you from a metre or so away.

Spinning on your heels, you saw Cassian before you, illuminated by the moonlight so that you could see his unbound hair and muscular chest that peeked out from his undone shirt, "Thanks, but I'm good," you sniffled softly, grabbing your flute and finishing off the sparkling liquid inside of it before placing it back onto the stone ledge.

Cassian frowned at you, his eyes roamed over your face and figure, smiling in approval at your bright eyes and tan skin, and the masterfully tailored dress and accessories you adorned. There was something soft about you.

"It's good to see you, Cassian. You look happy," the admission tugged sadly at that ball of bliss inside of you, the ball that had been enriched and glowed like starlight.

He approached you, stepping out into the night and understanding why you had blindly led yourself there, he had followed you, noticing how you weren't paying much attention to where you were going and simply allowing your feet to carry you there.

"I could be better," he expressed, taking another step closer to you and finding nothing untoward in your expression, no anger, no distaste, nothing but warmth, "It's weird seeing you not being mad with me."

A gentle laugh pushed through you, it crinkled at the corner of your eyes, "If it means anything, I don't think I was ever really mad at you."

"Yeah?" Cassian coaxed, wanting more of an answer from you.

The lanterns scattered light over the side of your body, the small speck of glitter in your jasmine body oil shimmering softly, "I think I was jealous of you if anything," you had turned away from him and propped your elbows up on the stone platform, staring up at the stars longingly, "You're a true Illyrian and I'm not, not since I lost them," your shoulders rolled, and Cassian saw the faint crescent moon scars ripple at the movement, "I think I saw you as reckless, you were making so many stupid moves that could end up with you being hurt or losing your own wings," you flinched at the thought, "I'm sorry."

"I get it," he told you, mirroring your stance and looking upward at the sky which held nothing on Velaris, "I think I'd be the same if I were in your shoes."

Cassian on some level had always known that you harboured some resentment toward them, for their privilege of not having to worry about having their wings clipped. It had broken them all when it had happened to you, that was the moment you'd turned cold toward him, causing more arguments than anything else.

"This court has changed me, I'm not that person anymore. I hope you know that."

Cassian grabbed your wrist as you moved to walk away, pulling you flush to his chest and tensing as his rough fingers ghosted over your cheek, "I never thought you were that person. I tried to fix it, you know, fix whatever I had done wrong. I was the one who made sure you always had enough strawberries in the house and made Feyre swear to take credit for it. I was the one who made sure your bathroom cabinet was always stocked full of bath oils and healing creams, not Mor. That gift three solstices ago you loved so much, the blanket made from the dresses of Selene and your mother, that was me too, not Az."

"But why? We hate each other?"

"I never hated you, the truth couldn't be more opposite," you could feel his heart beating through the silk of his shirt, through the satin on your dress, he grazed his fingers around the cuffs on your ears, "I love you actually, a lot, and I stupidly thought that if all the words I could get from you were teasing jabs then it would be enough, just to hear your voice."

"You love me?"

Cassian grinned, lowering himself and stopping only millimetres away from your lips, sparks of fire sparking between them, "Always have, Princess," when you didn't move away, he closed that gap between you and allowed the world to explode into a kaleidoscope of colour around your forms, you fisted into his shirts, pulling him closer, and his hands found the small of your back, leaning into you.

Panting, you pulled away, opening your eyes to find his hazel spheres pressing into you, his nose touching your own. You laughed, a laugh that send shivers of joy down his spine, "I can't believe we were in love all this time. I swore I would never become this trope."

Cassian chuckled, a rich a deep thing that made you yearn for him, he kissed you again, with more hunger than you had ever felt, "Who doesn't love a good cliché, my formiddable mate?"

Authors Note

I'm happy now x

[matchalovertrait]

Alegría v Caruso: Day 2, Pt. 1

Everybody was seated, waiting for the trial to resume after what seemed like a never-ending weekend. Seriously, it felt like 4 months (and 7 days, if we want to be exact).

While Erick and Ángel felt a little uneasy after how Day 1 ended, Noemí was rather optimistic. She would feel comforted knowing Dulce was on the right side, even if the jury made a decision against her.

Lewis, however, felt pretty guilty for not sharing his suspicions regarding Caruso. In his defense, most people probably wouldn't like being told, "Your partner is a shady, lying jerk. And he squeezed my hand too hard."

When Lewis confessed this to Dulce, she forgave him. It didn't matter anymore. Yeah, maybe she wouldn't have believed Lewis, and that thought was unsettling.

On the other side of the room, Isabela was silently scolding Caruso for... reasons.

Hold on, were they trying to match outfits like Dulce and Antonio? The audacity when their claim was Caruso's "originality"...

It didn't take long for Caruso to be spared from the continuous bickering. The judge walked into the courtroom and took a seat, making Isabela settle down.

"This court is now in session," he announced. It was showtime.

Antonio stood up from his seat and walked over to the judge's bench.

“Your Honor, today we present a crucial piece of evidence: Ms. Alegría’s personal notebook, containing years’ worth of handwritten notes and original recipes.”

Chatter was heard around the room. What an interesting development.

Isabela shot up from her seat. “Objection! The notebook could have been fabricated over the weekend.”

A valid concern, but the judge was much too intrigued. “Overruled. We will hear the evidence first.”

Isabela remained firm, determined to cast doubt. “But, Your Honor. The defense was not made aware of this evidence before today.”

“Ms. Alegría could not find it, and we were unsure it would be found on time," Antonio explained.

That is technically the truth. Dulce was impressed with Antonio's ability to say just enough.

Antonio added, "Given that it contains important material to this case, we ask for it to be admitted."

“I will allow it.” His nod signaled for Antonio to continue.

“This notebook contains the ingredient lists and handwritten revisions. Momentarily, the ink analysis expert will verify when these entries were made.”

The screens behind him showed photographs of the pages from the notebook. The jurors nodded listened attentively.

Dr. Nadia Galecki, a forensic document analyst, was called to the stand.

Antonio began. "Dr. Galecki, can you explain how you determined the authenticity of this piece of evidence?"

"Using chemical testing, we conducted an ink dating analysis to determine when the ink was applied to the pages. The compounds in ink change over time, and by measuring these changes, we can estimate how long ago something was written."

"And what conclusions did you draw?"

"Based on our tests, the majority of the entries predate Ms. Alegría's relationship with Mr. Caruso by several years—some, nearly a decade."

The people in the courtroom whispered, and Caruso could not believe what was happening. How is he so good at this? He can't be real.

"Thank you, Dr. Galecki. No further questions." Checkmate.

It was Isabela's turn. "Dr. Galecki, ink dating analysis is not an exact science. How precise are these results, really? Could there be a margin of error of weeks? Months? ...Years?"

The analyst seemed to take offense to that. "It is a highly reliable method. Science is never absolute, but our tests can generally determine whether the ink was applied within a certain time frame. We use multiple techniques to ensure accuracy."

"But you also found that some entries were written after Ms. Alegría met Mr. Caruso, right?"

Dr. Galecki did not falter. "Yes, but it does not change the fact that the majority of the notebook is older than their relationship."

Isabela frowned.

Meanwhile, Dulce was pleased with how things were going. She hoped her joy wasn't too obvious. Winning was always fun.

Start from the beginning (Gen 2)

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[sweetromanova]

Off The Record: Part Three🖤

Natasha Romanoff x Criminal Defense Lawyer!Original Female Character

Summary: She’s built a career on keeping secrets and defending the worst with nothing to lose. That changed when Natasha Romanoff showed up on the other side of the courtroom.

Warnings: descriptions of violence, psychological manipulation, implied child abuse and trauma, emotional abuse, mentions of torture, human and sex trafficking, war crimes and murder, implied coercion, legal corruption, gun violence, secondary character deaths, power imbalance, blood and injury depiction

A/N: for any lawyers, law students or legally-adjacent folks reading this, i did get some help from a friend when i wrote this but even she wasn’t fully convinced about the accuracy so if anything’s off, just kindly ignore the legal nonsense and roll with it!🖤

Chapter Three

Avengers Secondary Holding Facility, Upstate New York

March 20, 2022

Maria Hill dropped the file onto the conference room table like it was a live grenade. “Motion to suppress Exhibit B, Exhibit E, and preliminary statements from the intake log.”

Across from her, the Avengers looked up from their scattered files and half-drunk coffee. Tony, legs kicked up on the table, slowly lowered his sunglasses. “She’s tossing out our evidence?” He exclaimed. “On what grounds?!”

“Improper chain of custody on the Prague lab samples, lack of independent verification on the digital logs and-” Maria glanced at the page, jaw tightening. “-interrogation without formal counsel present.”

Natasha barely moved, her voice was flat. “That interrogation didn’t even include questions. We asked him to confirm his name when he was brought on to the quinjet.”

“She filed it as a rights violation.” Maria said. “The judge could side with her. Anything gathered between his detainment and her first meeting is inadmissible.”

“She’s good.” Steve muttered. Not admiring, just resigned.

“Too good.” Tony added, spinning his tablet toward him. “Which is why I’ve spent the last four hours looking into her.”

“Stark…” Maria warned but Tony ignored her.

“She’s been a defense attorney in New York for around a decade I believe, maybe less. Passed the bar with a near-perfect score. And then? Radio silence. No social media, no interviews, barely any photos that aren’t court composites or grainy trial press shots.”

Bruce frowned. “That’s not unusual for lawyers, is it?”

Tony leaned forward. “Not for normal lawyers, no. But this one? She’s got classified SHIELD seals on several of her past cases, sealed after trial, not before. You don’t get that kind of protection unless someone upstairs is nervous.”

Maria’s expression tightened. “You were poking into SHIELD casework?”

“I was poking and-” Tony said. “-I found a case involving an international arms dealer five years ago. Guy vanished mid-trial. Sienna filed a motion for mistrial two days later. No ruling. Case disappeared.”

“Off the books?” Steve asked.

Tony nodded. “More like burned.”

Natasha finally stood. “She’s not just doing her job. She knows how to play the system. She’s ten moves ahead of us and she’s not even sweating.”

Maria turned her screen around for them all to see, a new motion, filed just minutes ago. “Motion to Exclude Expert Testimony of Wanda Maximoff filed on grounds of ‘extrajudicial psychic influence’ and ‘unverifiable cognitive methods that violate federal evidentiary standards’.”

“She’s trying to disqualify Wanda?” Steve said, stunned. “We didn’t even use her, Sienna came before we had the chance.”

“She’s going to win that one.” Maria said, quietly. “We don’t have a precedent for enhanced verification in court. Not legally.”

Bruce leaned back. “She’s dismantling our case before it even gets to trial.”

Tony tossed his stylus onto the table. “Yeah, well, I want to know who trained her to do that.”

Natasha was already halfway to the door.

“Where are you going?” Maria asked.

Natasha didn’t look back. “To find a crack.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Antonia Dreykov’s Residence, Budapest

March 21, 2022

Night settled over Budapest’s old quarter like a weighted blanket. Natasha moved through the alleys with the easy, practiced steps of someone who used to know every corner of this place. A single security light buzzed and flickered above the rusted door of what looked like an old, shut-down print shop. She knocked twice, paused then once more.

A slit slid open, brown eyes that were cool but sharp studied her. “Romanoff.”

“Antonia. I need five minutes.” The lock turned and Natasha slipped inside.

The room was spare with only a folding table, two chairs and a kettle on a hot plate. Antonia Dreykov, once the Taskmaster, wore a black hoodie and a scar that the world would never see, leaned against the wall with her arms folded.

“You don’t visit old classmates unless the world’s ending.” She said, in accented English.

Natasha offered the faintest hint of a smile.  “Not ending. Just… rotting in court.”

She slid a photo across the table of Maksim Vasiliev in all his glory, taken during intake.

Antonia’s eyes hardened. “I remember him. Red Room winter inspections. He watched the proficiency trials. Took notes and offered suggestions.” She exhaled. “Always smelled like antiseptic.”

“I need you to tell a tribunal that.” Natasha said. “Under oath.”

Antonia shook her head. “I was never his prisoner. He didn’t lay hands on me. That makes me an observer, not a victim. A lawyer will shred me.”

“Sienna Blake will try.” Natasha admitted. “But the jury or the judges, just need corroboration. Someone outside HYDRA command structure who can place him inside the Red Room, during live exercises. Connect his ‘theoretical science’ to real girls.”

Antonia stared at the photo a long moment then asked the question Natasha was dreading. “What do you get out of this? Revenge or justice?”

Natasha’s reply was quiet but edged. “Both, if the system lets me.”

Finally, Antonia nodded once. “One condition. My testimony is sealed after court. No press. No cameras. I give you what I saw then disappear.”

“Done.” Natasha promised, without hesitation. “Maria Hill will handle the protective paperwork.”

Antonia grabbed a battered backpack, already packed up and ready to run. Natasha knew all too well that she’d done that several times in the past. “Then let’s go. I still owe that man a scar.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The Avengers Compound, Upstate New York

March 22, 2022

Maria looked up from a stack of motions as Natasha walked in with Antonia at her side. “Tell me that’s not who I think it is.” Maria said, glancing at the bandana that covered half of Antonia’s face.

“Antonia Dreykov.” Natasha confirmed. “Firsthand witness. She’ll place Vasiliev inside the Red Room on multiple dates between 2000 and 2010, observing live neural‑conditioning trials.”

Maria’s brows lifted. “That ties him directly to human experimentation outside his lab network. Undermines his whole ‘I just signed papers’ defense.”

“And it’s not evidence collected before counsel.” Natasha added.  “Fresh witness, voluntary.”

Antonia folded her arms.  “Your tribunal has a witness list form?”

Maria almost smiled. “Several.” She flipped open a new file. “Blake is going to contest relevance and credibility but if we can corroborate Maksim’s travel logs with Red Room intel, the judge should allow it.”

Natasha’s eyes were cool and focused for the first time in this trial.  “One crack at a time.”

Tony’s voice drifted in from the doorway, tablet in hand.  “Good news travels fast. Jarvis just pinged that Blake filed another motion at 05:30.”

Natasha didn’t look away from Maria. “Let her file. We have our own play now.”

Maria nodded, sliding a witness submission form across the table to Antonia. “Welcome to the fight.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Federal Tribunal Courtroom, Washington, D.C.

March 24, 2022

The courtroom wasn’t overly grand but it felt like it was carved from stone. It was all marble pillars, high ceilings, and silence so thick it pressed against your ears. Three tribunal judges sat in elevated chairs, stern-faced and unreadable.

In the gallery, Natasha, Steve, Sam, Bruce, Clint, Bucky, Wanda and Tony lined the second bench. SHIELD’s legal team flanked Maria Hill, who sat rigid at the prosecution’s table.

Across from them, seated alone like she owned the goddamn floor was Sienna Blake.

Charcoal grey suit, heels like blades and not a hair out of place. A single black folder sat before her. No laptop. No assistant. She didn’t need them.

The clerk called the hearing to order. The judges gave nods then the lead judge began. “Counsellor Blake, you may proceed with your motions.”

Sienna stood smoothly. No notes. Just that controlled, deliberate walk toward the center. “Your Honours...” She began, voice calm and unshaken. “The defense respectfully moves to suppress the following. Preliminary intake statements made without legal counsel present, Second, a laboratory sample data lacking verified chain-of-custody documentation. Third, an expert testimony from an individual identified as ‘Wanda Maximoff’ on grounds of unverifiable psychic influence. And finally a witness testimony from Antonia Dreykov, on relevance and credibility grounds.”

There was a quiet intake of breath from SHIELD’s table and the second row. Maria didn’t blink. But Natasha stiffened. How the hell did she know about Antonia already? It was processed as close to the deadline as possible.

The lead judge looked over his glasses. “Ms. Blake, we’ll take each motion in order. Begin with the intake statements.”

Sienna nodded. “My client was detained for over six hours without legal representation. During that time, he was asked to verify documents, names, and operations he allegedly oversaw. Regardless of tone or intention, this constitutes an interrogation. It violates federal and international rights of due process.”

Maria stood. “He was read his rights. He refused counsel initially. Can I add this was all on his way into custody? No formal interrogation took place.”

“Refusal made without full capacity.” Sienna countered. “We have a pending psychiatric evaluation confirming impaired decision-making at the time.”

The judges conferred briefly. “Motion to suppress preliminary statements is granted.”

Tony swore under his breath. Natasha’s fingers tightened into fists. “Next.” The judge ordered.

“Chain of custody for Exhibit E.” Sienna continued. “The Prague lab samples, while potentially damning, were transported through three countries, two field agents and an undocumented private courier. No signed custody, no uninterrupted seal.”

Maria leaned forward. “We have timestamped photos and transfer logs.”

“And I have a U.S. v. Arvello precedent that ruled such documentation as insufficient under federal rules of evidence,” Sienna said, almost bored. “Even when a case involved nerve agents.”

A second pause. The center judge sighed. “Motion to exclude Exhibit E is granted.”

Steve murmured. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Welcome to the justice system.” Bruce muttered back.

“Third motion.” The judge prompted.

“Expert testimony from Wanda Maximoff.” Sienna said. “Her enhanced status may give her certain abilities, but the court cannot verify the accuracy of her cognitive impressions. There’s no precedent for psychics in federal court and no method of cross-examination to test the validity of her ‘truth detection.’”

Maria started to argue but the judge cut her off.

“This issue has been discussed previously. Without scientific validation, the tribunal cannot accept such testimony. Motion to exclude is granted.”

A cold, satisfied smile flickered on Sienna’s lips, so brief, it might’ve been imagined. ““Final motion.” The judge spoke. “Antonia Dreykov.”

Sienna nodded. “The defense questions the credibility and relevance of this witness. She cannot place my client in proximity to any specific criminal act, nor claim to be a victim. Her testimony is speculative and possibly biased due to past affiliations with the accuser, Agent Romanoff.”

Natasha stood. “Permission to speak, Your Honour.”

The judge considered. “Granted.”

“She’s not biased. She was there. I brought her in because I’ve been in those same rooms. Maksim Vasiliev didn’t just design the science. He watched it break people.”

Sienna’s tone stayed even. “And yet no record of his participation exists in SHIELD files, no documents, no signed orders. Just implication.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “Implication’s enough when you know what to look for.”

The judge cleared his throat. “Motion to exclude Dreykov testimony is denied, pending further evidentiary review.”

Sienna didn’t react. She simply inclined her head and returned to her seat.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Outside of the Federal Tribunal Courtroom, Washington, D.C.

March 24, 2022

The team exited in a tense, quiet crowd. Maria was reviewing the judges’ notes, eyes darting through paperwork.

Tony muttered. “That woman just disarmed three-quarters of our main evidence in this case without breaking a sweat.”

“She’s not just defending him.” Steve sighed. “She’s challenging everything we are.”

Natasha stopped at the edge of the marble steps, jaw tight. She looked down the block and there she was.

Sienna, standing calmly beside a black car, talking quietly into her phone. She glanced up once.

Their eyes met.

Sienna didn’t smile. She didn’t gloat.

She simply looked at Natasha the way you’d look at a chessboard… and she was moving her knight.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Conference Room, Federal Tribunal Court, Washington, D.C.

March 25, 2022

The conference room was stark, a sharp contrast to the courtroom’s glory. A low table, somber faces and piles of legal documents formed a barricade between allies and adversaries. At the head sat Judge Harmon, the presiding officer from the tribunal, flanked by Maria, Sienna, and Natasha.

“Ms. Blake-” Judge Harmon began, voice even. “-your motions have been noted. The tribunal will allow subpoenas for further witnesses but they must be submitted within 48 hours.”

Sienna nodded, serene as ever. “Understood, Your Honour. We have a preliminary list, experts on psychiatric forensics, SHIELD operations analysts and an international witness whose testimony will be critical.” Maria exchanged a glance with Natasha but said nothing. 

“Agent Romanoff-” Judge Harmon turned to Natasha. “-your testimony will be scheduled. And any classified information must be vetted through SHIELD’s legal office before presentation.”

Natasha’s eyes didn’t waver. “Understood.”

The judge folded his hands. “This tribunal expects transparency and cooperation. The court will hold everyone accountable.”

The meeting adjourned swiftly, leaving a charged silence.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Holding Area, Federal Tribunal Court, Washington, D.C.

March 25, 2022

Sienna and Natasha exited together, the crowd thinning until it was just the two of them.

The tension hung like smoke between them.

Natasha broke the silence first. “You play a dangerous game, Sienna. Defending a monster like Vasiliev, and doing it so well. It’s… infuriating.”

Sienna’s eyes glinted, sharp but not unkind. “I’m just doing my job. Everyone deserves a defense, even monsters. If you want to bring him down, you’ll have to fight me and the law first.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened. “You’re not just a lawyer. You’re a weapon in a suit and block heels.”

Sienna smiled faintly. “And you’re a soldier with nothing but your fury. But this isn’t a battlefield anymore.”

Natasha stepped closer. “Maybe not. But I won’t back down.”

Sienna’s smile softened, almost a hint of respect. “Neither will I.”