#I want to be a fly on that court room wall so bad

[savvylittlecoxswain]

WAIT WAIT WAIT you know how the people on the boat on the way to Berlin would hold mock trials? Just picture this for me…

Oarsmen v. Coxswain in an insane mock trial features Bobby literally crying on the witness stand as he recounts how his very own crew betrayed him, kidnapped and tortured and stuffed him in a dog kennel(yes that actually happened).

Everyone knows it’s all in jest but that’s some juicy drama right there like that’s easily the top storyline for a whole week because how could those giant ruffians do such a thing to their poor little coxswain? It’s Bobby who orchestrated the whole thing because this is about to be the craziest trial yet.

They got a “judge” and Bobby builds up his team of lawyers. They get some other Olympian’s to serve as the oarsmen’s attorneys and they find some impartial jurors from various different events. The “court room” is packed and Bobby is putting on one heck of a show for everyone. It’s a top tier production that’s totally unscripted but everyone got so invested in this trial. There were tons of witnesses to speak about their relationship before the event and eye witnesses, I mean they even got the dogs on the witness stand.

[yeonjuns-beanie]

As It Was

warnings: 18+, weed usage, smut, unprotected sex, soulmate au(kind of), little hatefuckin before real fucking, reader is a brat, mentions of suicide, oral(f receiving, logan is an EATER), claws come out when he…, little bit of primal play, breeding kink, daddy kink, implied age gap cuz i think it’s hot, im prolly gonna write him like an animal, think that’s it!! LOL

Logan Howlett x female!reader

summary: after saving his world from extinction, wade brings home a wolverine. you feel a tether to him but can't quite figure out what it is, but logan does. as the days go by you slowly chip away at the wall between you two and things slowly return to as it was.

word count: 4.5k

title is inspired by the hozier song of the same name....

It’s been three months now and you still couldn’t figure out the pull you felt toward Logan. The moment Wade brought him through the door, Mary Puppins in hand, you felt a tie to him. Now, it was as if the Red String of Fate was punishing you for not remembering your connection with him. It was haunting, aggravating, and pushing you towards sexual frustration because no matter how much you tried to remember, your thoughts would instantly become clouded with your attraction to him. He was brooding, grumpy, and humorous when he wanted to. The stoic exterior of him was just that, a shell. You just weren’t quite sure how to crack his nut yet.

You were sat in the main room of the apartment grinding up some green to pack a morning bowl. As you were getting ready to fill the glass you heard Wade’s voice echo through the apartment.

“You always grind Aunt Mary so hard. Don’t you think she would like to be loved tenderly, sugarbear?”

“And the last time I gave you the grinder there might as well have been a whole nug in the bowl. You damn near burned half my stash.”

“You’d think living with three addicts would be fun, but it’s more like babysitting toddlers fighting to see who can ruin my day first. Spoiler: it’s everyone.”

You chuckled, slotting the bowl into the joint of the bong, and pointed at Wade with it.

“You wanna hit this or not?”

“‘Course I do. How could I pass up a wake n bake with my girl?”

Wade jogged over to you, plopping dramatically on the seat next to you. Rolling your eyes, you took the first hit letting Wade finish off the remaining smoke in the shaft. Exhaling you spoke while the smoke billowed out of your mouth.

“Wade, baby, I love you, but I’m not your girl. What about Nessa?”

Before he spoke, he had his coughing fit like clockwork. Every time, no matter the method, resulted in a cough so bad he looked like a drooling dog. It was free entertainment but you tried your hardest not to laugh out loud because every time you did, it made it worse.

You couldn’t hold it

It was like watching a court jester and when Wade finally caught his breath he was staring off at a wall in the apartment mindlessly reaching for the glass. When his hand was left fondling the air reaching nothing, you let your laugh echo through the apartment.

“You sure you want another one?”

“Just gimme the weed, gorgeous. And to answer your question. Vanessa and I are on a break of sorts, but I’m wounded that I now have lost you too. It’s cause I brought Peanut here isn’t it?”

Wade was feigning heartbreak, just busting your balls in an effort to see if you’d crack. Your relationship was always like this and that was probably why you two got along so well. Nothing was ever too serious and yet still completely vulnerable. As wild as he was, Wade was a safe space for you and for some reason this morning, you felt like sharing.

“Perhaps.”

His head whipped so fast you thought it’d fly off. Coupled with his dramatic gasp and chest grab you nearly regretted your admission.

“I knew it!”

“Will you keep it down, it’s not that serious.”

“Au contraire. This is probably the most serious thing since Blind Al ran out of Peruvian marching powder.”

Rolling your eyes, you swallowed your pride as you knew Wade wouldn’t let it go until you told him every detail possible. As much as you pretended you hated divulging this information, it was kinda nice to let out to somebody. You’d been wrestling with so many feelings since Wade brought Logan to stay with you guys and the weight of it was becoming painful.

“Well, he’s hot obviously.”

“Tell me something more interesting, we all disrespectfully gawk at the honey badger.” Wade quipped.

“The problem is I feel this weird attachment to him. Like I’ve known him before. Maybe we met before they tried their best to wipe my memory, but I can’t shake this one. I’m drawn to him but he won’t let anyone get close enough to figure that out.”

You had your own run-in with the TVA a few years ago and instead of dumping you into the void, they were nice enough to plop you in Earth-10005. You were grateful considering the stories of this barren garbage heap that Wade and Logan told you about but you couldn’t remember why they sent you here in the first place.

You had no real memory of your life before this or what you did that fucked you up so badly. It always haunted you. Maybe you were a murderer. A merciless killer and that’s why they snagged you. A similar fate to Wade’s but they decided somewhere that you weren’t equipped for the job and the TVA orphaned you to another universe.

You weren’t complaining, you loved the life that you had now you just wanted to remember the rest of you. You were roaming this universe, a husk of your former self and no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t bother you, it did. It kept you up at night. Until Logan walked through the apartment door.

Slowly, things started to reveal themselves to you but only in a dream. You were forced to piece together your life with the shattered fragments of what your dreamscape gave you to work with. You’d wake up from the most vivid dreams only to remember one instance where you were walking down a street, the sky pouring rain in a godly attempt to cleanse you. Your hands were always coated in crimson when you looked down.

It’d come in flashes and it’d end just as fast. You were patient with yourself but a lot of times you tried to drown out the feeling with various substances. Weed being your vice of choice as alcohol made you suffer. Making you wish that an attempt of self-mutilation or the bittersweet release of dancing with death while your wrists stained the floor garnet succeeded.

They never did.

So you tried your best to make peace with your life and you were doing alright until Logan showed up. Now the universe was mocking you. Testing to see if you’d slip up and forget everything you learned.

“I think he’d like to figure you out, y/n. Do with that what you will.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wade shrugged his shoulders handing you the bong back. As he stood up you took one last hit and left the glass piece on the table. As you exhaled, Logan’s voice pierced through the silence.

“Jesus. D’ya have to stink up the apartment with that shit? Can’t go outside?”

“Easy, peanut. The art of the wake n bake is sacred. Plus, talk to the gardener if you have requests to make, not me.”

Wade pointed to you as he wandered off into the kitchen and you reached for the bong motioning it to Logan.

“Wanna hit?”

Logan hit you with a short ‘no’ and it almost hurt your feelings. Your gaze flicked over to Wade who was mouthing to you something you couldn’t quite make out but he was pointing to Logan while doing it. Your brain spazzed for a moment before coming up with a response as you stood.

“You want coffee or something, Lo?”

“Sure, kid.”

You walked into the kitchen with Wade and started whispering to him.

“What the fuck? Of course, he comes out while I’m blowing up the house.”

“I don’t see why you’re worried, he doesn’t seem upset.”

You turned around trying your best not to look suspicious.

“Yes, the fuck he does. I’m gonna fuck this up before I even get the chance to start-”

“-You two morons know I can hear you, right?”

You hung your head in defeat finishing up the two cups before setting one in front of Logan and holding yours while you stood. The air was thick, but not uncomfortable. It just felt like everyone needed to get something off their chest and didn’t know how to start. Before you opened your mouth to speak, Wade’s voice cut you off while he sent a text message.

“Well, I’m gonna leave you lovebirds to it. I’ve got a pegging date.”

Again. Mocking you. The universe seemed to just have it out for you and apparently, today was the day of honesty. You took a seat across from Logan wondering where to direct the conversation.

“You hungry? I can make us something.”

“I’m alright kid, not too keen on stoner food in the morning.”

“Hey, I’m still a good cook when I’m cooked. I just wanted to offer.” You paused.

“Also if you have a problem with it, I’ll find a new spot. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“No need. Just giving you guys a hard time. We all have something to cope with our shit.”

You nodded knowing he was referencing his drinking habit, or problem if we were feeling honest. You left your coffee cup on the table and stood up, wanting to Irish goodbye in your own home. But you didn’t want to add any more bricks to this wall even though it felt like the silence was already doing so.

“Well, um. I’m gonna chill out for a bit in my room if you need anything.”

He hummed to let you know he heard you and you walked down the hallway to your bedroom before stopping in your tracks. Something possessed you and you had to get this out. The test was walking away and if you finished that journey into your bedroom and locked the door, nothing would be resolved. Turning on your heel, you walked back into the kitchen and faced Logan.

“Why do you hate me?”

He nearly choked on his coffee, the noise echoing in the cup.

“What?”

You sighed, trying to not feel silly about your admission.

“Why do you hate me? And if you don’t, why do you act like it? It’s so hard to get through to you and it feels like I’m talking to a fucking wall.”

“Kid-”

“And stop ‘kid’ing me! If it’s out of endearment it doesn’t feel like it.”

Your heart rate was rising and you could feel your skin getting hot. The months of pent up emotions were finally boiling over and you couldn’t stop it. You needed to know why.

“What is it then, y/n?”

“Why can’t I get through to you? Every time I try, you shut me down by being curt with me and I’m left with the same feeling as before. I can’t shake this feeling that I know you and I can’t even get close to you without you shoving me away like I have a fatal disease. So why, Logan? All I wanna know is why?”

He sighed knowing there was no easy way to escape this.

“Kid–sorry. It’s complicated. I know that feeling. I feel it too, but I know why it’s there and I don’t want to fuck it up again.”

Again?

“What do you mean again?”

Logan sighed and said nothing. Hanging his head in what you thought was shame but most definitely could be avoidance. It frustrated you even more so because why couldn’t he just talk to you?

“Here we go again, nothing?! Is it so hard to just say what this is?”

“It’s not that simple, bub.”

You scoffed and turned around to walk to your room. You needed to clear your head because it was more than apparent that a solution would not be provided for you. Logan didn’t have the courage to reveal what he knew so a walk away from him would have to suffice.

“Y/n! Where are you going?”

“I need to clear my head since obviously you don’t have the gall to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Slipping your shoes on, you tried to move past Logan but he was blocking the doorway.

“Move.”

“Y/n. Just-”

“I said move, Logan.”

One wall after another you kept hitting, except this one was physically him. He nearly filled up the doorway and his frame was imposing. You tried to figure out how you’d slip past him but you were so heated that you were about to settle for dramatics before he moved his body just enough for you to slip past. You stared at him, looking for something in his eyes to tell you to stay but it just made you more irritated. You walked down the hallway and almost made it to the door before you felt his hand wrap around your wrist.

“Do you get a kick out of torturing me or something?”

“Sweetheart, if you just—just sit down and let me say what I need to say.”

“Oh, now you wanna fucking talk. Let go of me. I’m not in the mood to talk anymore.”

Logan’s grip on you tightened as you struggled against him and you pushed on his chest trying to get him off of you. He was stunned by your actions and so were you but you couldn’t stop. You kept pushing him away from you until he grabbed your upper arms stabilizing you but you still were pressing your hands against his chest. He was calling your name trying to calm you down but you were too lost in your emotions. You thrashed your head up, trying to plead with him silently to let you go even though you knew that was the last thing you wanted.

When your eyes met his, one of his hands cradled the back of your head and before you could register it, his lips were slotted against yours in a moment of desire and exasperation. Bated breath, fury, and sexual confusion fueled the kiss but you’d be a liar to say you didn’t enjoy this feeling. His body flesh against yours, the heat bouncing between the two of you nearly suffocating and it had only been seconds. Logan had you pressed against the wall his hands roaming the curves of your body and his knee slotted itself in between your thighs, completely caging you against him.

He pushed his knee up into the apex of your thighs applying a delicate pressure to your center. You moaned against him, your body rolling your hips into the feeling. His hands were roaming over your body in a frenzy, like if he didn’t touch you fast enough you’d disappear. Your hands wrapped into his hair, pulling on his sandy brown locks as you tried to stabilize yourself into the feeling.

Logan pulled away from you, a string of spit the only thing left connecting you two until it broke and you felt the cold air vaporize the heat on your swollen lips. You were staring at his features, locked in his gaze hoping that if you didn’t break eye contact he’d stay right here. His gruff voice broke the heady silence.

“Since you wanna be a brat and not talk anymore, I have no choice but to show you how I feel, sugar.”

Logan slid his hands down until they were underneath the swell of your ass and told you to jump. As your legs wrapped around his waist, he walked down the hallway to your room. His senses were incredibly heightened at this moment and when he breached the threshold of your room, he was intoxicated by the smell of you swirling the room.

As he laid you down on your bed, your scent wafted off of the sheets with a gentle breeze and he was soon surrounded by a nest of you and your arousal. He prowled over your body, taking you in and memorizing every inch of you, how you were restless against him, and how your lower half mindlessly moved against him in desperate need of some sort of friction.

He uttered a low growl against you as he snaked up to your neck leaving a string of hot kisses against your skin. The scruff of his beard nearly overstimulated you and had you clawing at his skin, frantic in your efforts, soft moans escaped your lips in wordless need of feeling something more.

“Don’t wanna talk but I got you whimpering for me, huh princess?”

“Lo-”

“Shh, baby. I got you.”

Logan bit your ear, pulling at the skin before he tugged at the bottom of your shirt and you lifted your back just enough so that he could slip it off of you. Your upper body was fully exposed to him as your tits pancaked on your chest. As he lowered his face back down to your body, he trailed down your skin with his nose inhaling every last inch of you. The action was so subdued in comparison to the rest of his demeanor that you got completely lost in the feeling.

As his face met your stomach, the scent of your arousal was incredibly inebriating, deluging his mind with salacity. He traced the waistband of your shorts with his nose, encasing his teeth around the elastic piece of fabric before replacing his mouth with his hands as he languidly pulled them down your legs. Tossing them across the room he looked up at you.

“You want this?”

“Please.” You mewled out.

Logan shoved his nose against your panties inhaling your scent before rubbing your bud through the fabric as he came back up your body to capture your lips in a searing kiss. He pulled your panties from your body, your slick stretching as the fabric left your messy lips. The cool air was welcomed but was soon replaced by the warmth of Logan’s mouth against your petals.

He lapped at you like a dog. A wanton primal need taking over his senses. He wanted to be enveloped in you and you in him. In every timeline, he’d claim you and this one was no different. You tangled your hands in his hair, rolling your pussy into his face as he sloppily ate you out. His hands were wrapped around your hips holding you in place as he greedily drank you in.

You could feel the spit dripping down your folds and forming a cool pool of fervour beneath your skin. Eyes rolling back in ecstasy you could feel your orgasm begin to settle in your lower stomach, heat rippling across your skin. Your moans increased in frequency but became more breathy in nature as you came closer to your high.

Logan’s hand snaked up your curves and his fingers teased your nipples, pulling and pinching at the sensitive skin as he felt your body grow more tense with desire. Dragging his calloused hands down your body one last time, he inserted a finger into your wet, libertine cavern and you sucked him in with need. The stretch of him adding a second finger pushing you right to your edge as he curled them inside of you.

“Lo- I’m gonna-”

“I know, sugar. Let it out. Lemme hear you”

He immediately put his tongue back on your clit, and let you ride out your high against his face. Your moans gained volume completely immersed in the pleasure. When the ripples of euphoria finally dwindled, you looked down at Logan and pulled him up to your face so you could kiss him. The tang of your sex was still present on his lips and it ignited something within you.

“You got too many fuckin clothes on, Daddy.”

You were breathless. Lost in a licentious rhapsody as you had him hovering over your body and when Logan paused his movements to look at you, you thought you ruined the moment. He could smell the change in you and spoke before you had the chance to apologize for nothing.

“Say it again.”

He could feel you heartbeat pounding in your chest, arousal returning to the forefront of your mind.

“Wanna see you. Feel all of you, Daddy.”

Your voice was dripping sex, his personal psychedelic. He freed himself from his beater and you palmed his bulge through his sweats. Slipping your hand past the waistband, you stroked his heavy cock.

“Lemme make you feel good.”

You were getting ready to flip your bodies over, but Logan pinned you to the bed his eyes boring through you. You felt so small underneath him, like he could do whatever he wanted to you and you’d let him. When he spoke he broke you from the trance.

“Another time, sweetheart. This is about showing you how I feel about you since my baby needs me to spell it out for her.”

Slipping out of his sweats his cock was on full display, so heavy that it didn’t have the spring to bounce against his stomach. It hung in front of him, heady and in desperate need to be inside of you. Precum and prurience leaked from his tip. Logan crawled on top of you, the tip of his cock rubbing between your folds, coating your slick across his shaft.

“Tell me what you want. Tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

You squeezed around nothing, the action not going unnoticed by Logan. You mewled against him, just wanting him to ravish you in every way possible. You wanted to be marked, for everyone to see that you belonged to him but you couldn’t find the words to articulate this feeling while this sexual heat was radiating off of your bodies and numbing your mind.

Logan slowly pushed his tip into your rapt cunt before pulling it out and sliding it against your clit. The withdrawal of pleasure bringing you to your senses.

“I want you to make me yours. Wanna belong to you, Lo.”

You were wanton with need. The desire for him became nearly unbearable and it was all soon resolved as he pushed his cock past your pious walls, defiling you of any innocence you had left. You wanted to be claimed, he’d claim you. Animal instinct took over as he rocked his hips into your cunt, your walls fluttering around him in ardor. Low growls left his throat as he nipped at the skin on your neck, alternating between kissing the marks and swiping them with his tongue. He was marking you, making you his own.

It was like he couldn’t get close enough to you as he thrusted into you. His arms wrapped around your body as you fell limp to the pleasure. You felt another orgasm on the horizon and you tried your best to warn Logan by sinking your nails into his back, leaving red trails of morbid desire to mark him as yours. You didn’t realize the amount of pressure you were putting on his skin, but the groans that left him had that concern pushed to the back of your mind. Your orgasm washed over you and your pussy squeezed so tight around him that you nearly pushed him out of you. You were entranced, drunk on him and his cock, still desperate for more.

It was like he could hear your thoughts because as soon as you thought of a second round, Logan was flipping you on your hands and knees and you arched your back as he rubbed his hand along the small of it, accentuating your arch. His cock filled your sugared walls one more time and as he buried himself to the hilt. Wrapping a hand around your neck, he brought your body flesh against his.

“Gonna fuckin breed you. Never gonna forget you who belong to, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help the preemptive squeezing of his cock at the mention of him breeding you. The thought of him filling you with all of him was grossly erotic and Logan took the chance to taunt you.

“Oh? You like that, huh? Want daddy to breed your pretty little pussy?”

You hummed, your eyes lidded as you tried to see him over your shoulder. Sweat was sticking your bodies together and you only noticed how hot it was between the two of you when he pushed your body forward, cool air hitting your back as he began to mold your cunt to the shape of his cock. His tip was kissing your cervix and repeatedly hit that spot deep inside of you that made you squirm against his body.

His thrusts were becoming sloppy, his breaths ragged and you could feel your third orgasm of the night creeping on you. Low growls complimented the whimpers that were leaving your mouth and being somewhat muffled by the fabric of your sheets. You couldn’t hold his hips against you to ensure that he stayed inside so you just whimpered out a small ‘inside’ as you felt your orgasm begin to wash over your body.

Logan wasn’t far behind, one hand resting on your hips and his other by your head steadying himself above you. Sinking his teeth into your neck, you cried out in avidity and rapture filled his veins before painting his seed across your walls. You heard a faint schwing and as you opened your eyes, you saw that his claws were extended. As you moved your hips back into him to fuck you through the rest of your high, you accidentally nicked yourself on one of his blades. He hissed against you uttering a strained ‘don’t move’ as the luxuria dissipated in his body.

As he calmed down, his claws retracted back into skin and he gently rolled you over to gaze over your features. He moved a few sweat-stricken pieces of hair off of your face and placed a gentle kiss on your lips, which was such a contrast from before. Pulling out of you he pushed himself off the bed.

“Be right back.”

Returning with a warm towel, he cleaned you up and grabbed a shirt from one of your drawers waiting for you to put it in before sliding next to you in the bed. You curled into him, tracing patterns into his chest. Looking up at him, you felt none of the tension from before in the room and you decided that this would be the time.

“So, what did you mean by ‘again’ earlier?”

Logan sighed but not out of exasperation like it was earlier, it was softer this time.

“In my world, we were together. That’s the pull you feel. But in like so many other areas in that timeline, I fucked up and I lost you. I’d rather have kept you at a distance than not have you at all, but I fucked that up too, now.”

He laughed the last bit out, a touch of humor apparent in his delivery. Sighing, you felt like something could work here between the two of you.

“Well, whenever you’re ready to tell me what happened between your timeline’s me and you, I’ll wait patiently for it. But until then, know that you’re not losing me here. I’m yours as long as you want me.”

You didn’t expect a response from him, nor did you feel like you really needed one. You wanted to relish in this moment between the two of you and soon enough sleep overtook both of your forms.

© yeonjuns-beanie '24

~Just as it was, baby Before the otherness came And I knew its name The love, the dark, the light, the flame~

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXV)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Tim pulls a fast one on Batman for their mutual benefit. Everybody giggles. Danny goggles.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

(Additional TW: I think this counts as a panic attack ngl)

On the one hand. The room Danny’s in has a killer view of the earth from the moon.

The wall is basically just one big window. Danny is also apparently permitted to mash his face into the glass and ogle the Earth from Space for as long as he wants until the stinky dad, whoever he is, finally emerges from the depths of the building.

Diana’s the only one beside him today. She looks nice—nicer than usual, in her armor and bright clothing rather than soft scrubs and hair net. She can push his chair without getting tired—she could probably fly and carry him too, if she had to, so. Danny’s maybe counting on her liking him if this stinky dad tries to be mean.

So. Diana (nice lady) and Danny (half-dead ghost boy) are quietly seated in a dim, peaceful board room, absorbing the early morning (?) space radiation when the door hisses open across the room.

In the doorway is a long, dark, shadow of a man.

…And the green guy!!

Okay, if the stinky dad man brought a friend to this meeting the same way Diana’s meant to supervise him, Danny feels like he’s been lawyered up for the sake of some kind of court trial. This is not fair. Danny wasn’t able to review his case with his legal representation before this.

Well. Danny fumes. Whatever. His lawyer is Diana, the most powerful living being he’s seen ever in his life, and she can totally kick the green guy’s ass. Hell, Danny could probably kick the green guy’s ass.

...You know. If he wasn’t. Sick.

The stinky dad guy looks a lot like the blob his kid drew him as. That’s kind of neat—his suit is all black with little to no variation, which sort of just washes out the colors Danny might have been able to see if his eyes were still good. He’s very quiet, which is nice, and he’s very not-trying-to-read-Danny’s-mind, which is even better.

The two sit. Danny’s already in a wheelchair, so he just lets Diana wheel him to the table. The lady sits beside him in the spinny office chair.

Hello, the green guy opens with, already toying with the edges of Danny’s aura.

Danny sends back an abundance of ass-kicking emotions.

…Alright then, the green man capitulates, the barest hint of bemusement quickly stifled.

Good. Danny is mean. He’s awake enough to be mad about other people touching his aura from any end of his personal bubble.

But then the green guy…says stuff to the dad guy? And it’s very? Quiet?

Explanations, the green guy says. The image of a sign language translator at a baseball game floats over to him, and—

…Oh. He’s translating. For Danny.

That’s…nice? Nicer than Danny expected, honestly? Most of the time, people are perfectly happy to misinterpret him. It was kind of the way of the world at this point. Getting blamed for stuff, getting accused of stuff…

Man. If they turn out to be indoctrinating him for secret war purposes, at least they’re going all in. Danny might actually. You know. Like it here. A little.

He squirms in his chair, and tries not to look at anyone in particular. Diana—the lady who’s been nice to him—makes as if to straighten his hair for him, and remembers at the last second that he doesn’t like to be touched.

And sure. Danny doesn’t want to be touched. By bad guys.

…But Diana’s been really nice to him, so. Maybe. He scratches at the back of his neck, and ducks his head down—and remembers to use his words. “Yes,” he consents verbally. He can’t make eye contact. But he can…let her. Brush his hair back. A little.

Diana asks something long and complicated—and the green guy presses an image of Wonder Woman asking permission, being kind, being gentle­—up against the edges of Danny’s awareness.

Danny nods at the floor instead of at the lady. It’s fine. She’s fine. It’s fine.

And her fingers carefully brush through the front end of his fringe, and Danny. Danny is so normal about it. He doesn’t even cry or anything. Not even in front of his friend’s stinky dad.

And she doesn’t do it like Mom did it. And she doesn’t ruffle his hair like Dad did.

But it’s. Nice. And she doesn’t pull.

…And she doesn’t hit.

Danny eventually leans back into his wheelchair. It’s a little bit embarrassing to be halfway in and halfway out, but. Whatever. The scary-looking-dad with the earsies on his helmet has his own teenager. He should understand what it feels like to get emotionally weird with your teen in a public place. If he doesn’t, well...he wouldn’t be a great dad, then, and his opinion would suck anyway.

Based on what Danny knows about the masked kid, Danny isn’t sure the guy would tolerate a bad dad. The teen seems kinda unhinged.

The man says something, and the green guy presses a number of translated feelings against Danny’s awareness: Greetings. Questions about Danny’s wellbeing. Curiosity, but not demanding.

“…Hello,” Danny says back, and. Waves.

The man waves back. He’s got little claws on his gloves.

…Like a cat? Is it to go with his ears? Danny wonders about the possibilities of the guy being cat themed. It’s possible, presumably.

So…they want to know how Danny’s doing? Danny shrugs, and he glances at Diana, since, you know, she could probably fill them in? She does speak their language. And she’s been here the whole time.

The lady leans in close to him, black hair falling out from behind her ear. “What do you want to say?” she whispers into her ear, hand covering her mouth from their watchers.

Uh. It’s up to…Danny?? Somehow??

Danny winces. “…Good?” he tries, unsure if the word he uses means okay or fine or well. “…Not…hungry?”

“Very good,” Diana agrees, a little louder. She looks proud. Being not hungry must mean a lot to her, then. It means a lot to Danny too—he can remember the sensation of his stomach rubbing against itself, friction pulling raw at his insides as acid ate at him.

It was. Bad.

It was bad.

Danny’s glad he’s not there anymore. Anyway, there’s a guy in the room who reads minds, and Danny doesn’t really want to share that memory with anyone ever; especially someone who could turn it back on him.

The stinky dad says something else, but he uses words too thick and long for Danny to understand. The green guy translates, pure conceptual recall brushing against Danny’s outer aura—Needs? Wants?

…Danny frowns.

Danny looks at Diana, who looks back at him. Wants, needs…? What?

“Do you need aniþing?” Diana whispers to him, which. You know. Mostly makes sense.

Does Danny…need anything? He has medical care, he has food, he has water, he has toys and brain teasers, even…he has people to hang out with, he has people who stretch his legs with him so that he can go back to normal…heck, he doesn’t even have to clean his own waste bag. There’s people who do that for him.

Like. What more could Danny ask for?

Danny shrugs. He just wants to heal up and run away. Maybe…maybe, if Diana is real and not just pretending to like him to keep an eye on him, she’d let him visit her later or something. Danny would do what Dani doe—did. What Dani…did. And he’d just go a bunch of places and come back when he wants to.

But. No. There’s nothing he really needs right now.

The pointy-eared guy and the green guy share a look and a couple quiet words. Danny flares his annoyance into the silence, but all he gets is a silent Apology/Apology, which isn’t answers.

Ugh. Danny leans over the arm of his wheelchair. This is kind of super boring; it’s more boring than it is frustrating, even.

The stinky dad guy says something else, and Danny feels the push and pull of something double ended tugging on the outer edge of his aura. Additional/information, giving/take?

Danny really wishes he’d brought a fidget toy or something. His nerves are ramping up but all he can do is contort his fingers together, feeling the strain in and the joints click as he pushes them together and twists them apart. They want…to ask him questions? No, they’re already asking him questions. They want Danny to…give them questions??

…Danny doesn’t really want to. Still, he probably…should.

“The…space station,” he says, using the wrong word for their big space building but not knowing the better one; “Is this…where…why is it?”

The black-caped dad grumbles something vaguely approving. A tablet pops out of the table—spooky—and the guy starts drawing on it, explaining all the way. The green guy simplifies more of the verbally complicated concepts for Danny as they go.

Anyway. So they’re in space because it’s their…job? Danny thinks? They do…fighting stuff. Which Danny knew. Because he’d seen them on the news.

But it looks like they do a lot of things—they clean up after storms, and chase regular bad guys and super-bad-guys instead of just big ones. And they stop bad aliens from hurting people on Earth.

The green guy shifts from a green-looking, pointy-headed, red-eyed form to a warm, brown, human skin tone. And even. Like. Human clothing.

Danny stares.

…And the guy immediately takes back his natural form, his body physically shifting and morphing, which, fair, but holy crap. He’s living, on Earth. He passes as normal, on Earth. No one snitches on him. No one’s selling him to the government for parts. No one’s trapping him in a cage and not feeding him.

This guy works here, and everyone lets him.

Danny shifts in his chair. He…he wants that. He wants that. He wants to pass as human and not have to worry about…about anyone getting rid of him. He wants to go back to school. He wants to hide, and never ever not ever be found by anyone or anything when he does.

“I want that,” Danny says. There’s no inflection. He feels dead. He is dead, but usually he doesn’t feel it. “What do I do for…that.”

Help/Searching/Finding? the green—alien—questions, but there’s nothing for Danny to find. He knows exactly where everyone he loves is—and unless they’re already fully formed in the ghost zone…

…Well. Danny has forever to wait and see if he’ll see his friends and sister again. Maybe he’ll find them again one day, in a world purely green and glowing.

He shakes his head.

The next question comes…softer. Gentler. The mental push feels more like a breeze than a gale. Friends…Home/family?

The question comes tinged with all sorts of sensations that Danny’s suppressed—warmth, security, happiness, oxytocin, fondness, pride and being the source thereof, warmth and love, love, love—

Danny’s sweating. He can’t stop. His hands are shaking faster than usual—he kicks the brakes off his chair with the heels of his palms, and jerks the wheels back, pulling away from the desk—

He’s halfway across the room before he hears the noise. It’s just. Noise. It’s Diana, carefully shushing the loud heartbeat churning in his ears, hands on his hand, trying not to cage him but trying to keep skin on skin contact. Her hand is on the back of his hand, and on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Diana whispers. Danny’s shaking. His whole body is shaking. “Shhh, sh sh sh. It’s alright, it’s okay.”

It’s not it’s not it’snoit’snotit’sNOT. His sister is dead. His friends are dead. His parents sold his captors the equipment to catch him and they didn’t care if he got hurt doing it and now they’re DEAD. They tore open his hometown down the middle just to catch him, they stole him—they took his dead parent’s things as tools to hurt him—they HURT HIM and there isn’t—he can’t—he can’t—

Something is holding him down, and Danny thrashes. He has arms, but they’re injured—he has legs but he needs a tail and he��and—

He cries into Diana’s arms, sobbing and wailing. It’s a miracle that the building stays together. She holds him tighter, and he cries even harder into her soft under-layers.

He wants to run away. He needs to run away. Someone is holding him, and he can’t even flicker through her the way he wants to; his core is already too strained just from talking.

Danny’s sick. He’s dying. He’s—

“Take a breath,” Diana whispers, calm and sure. She models it for him. Danny gasps in air. “Good. Lete it out slow. As bobbels in a straw.”

He tries to copy her he does and she’ll be so angry if he can’t do it right on the first try but she lets him try, over and over again, until Danny’s able to stop hiccupping and leaking tears and ectoplasm all over her and realize that she’s holding him like a baby. Like. Actually cradling him against his body armor.

…You know what. He’s too tired to even be embarrassed. Screw that. Danny leans all the way over her and goes completely limp. Someone else can deal with his him for a little bit.

She does. Diana just…holds him.

It’s nice. Mom and Dad used to do that for him, when Danny was still…more human, he supposed. More than he is right now.

Something else touches his hand. Danny looks blearily downwards.

The teenager’s dad gets to his knees and takes Danny’s hand—and he doesn’t need the translation to understand.

“I’m sorry,” the man says, over and over again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Danny blinks sleepily. What does his friend’s stinky dad have to be sorry for? He didn’t even do anything to Danny in the first place.

Danny won’t remember, afterwards, being wheeled back to his room for a nap. They must have wheeled him back, though, because the alternative is that Diana tucked him into bed like a baby, and that’s just kind of embarrassing to even think about for too long.

[potatoplace]

You Can Have It - Chapter 3

Alpha!Feysand x Omega!Reader

chapter 2 | chapter 4 | series masterlist

Story Summary: You've been a baker for 75 years, and are finally moving on from the Winter Court to the City of Velaris to start your own bakery after your grandmother passes. After your grand opening, the High Lord and Lady of Night become daily visitors to your bakery for months, every day having your most popular pastry- one that increases fertility for a short time. All the while, the two alphas want nothing more than to call themselves yours.

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, no rhys and feyre 😠

Words: ~5.3k

Author's Note: it's here! There will be a second chapter posted soon as well, I needed to cut this one in half otherwise it won't fit in one post. And I rlly want to get to the scene meeting Rhys and Feyre aaaahhhhh I hope you guys like this chapter!

18+ only pls

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

Tuesday had passed quickly for you, spent with you writing down everything you needed for your bakery, the apartment, and garden in the building process.

You had a visions in your head for exactly how it should look- a log cabin similar in style to those in Winter, with a set of stained glass double doors depicting the cycle of dawn, day, and night during the winter season. The main floor of the bakery would be divided into two parts, with the actual kitchen area being in the back, separated by a wall stretching two thirds of the way across, leaving an open archway to connect the two on the left side. Windows of course, some in the front of the bakery as well as along the sides, and one that takes up most of the back wall of the kitchen, so that you’ll always be able to stare out the Sidra while preparing you baked goods.

At the far right of the kitchen, away from the access into the shop, you were going to have a spiral staircase leading up to your apartment if that was a possibility.

Upstairs, you would have a personal kitchen of your own, also against right side of the back wall of the building, with another large window to offer you the same benefit as the floor below. To the left you’d have your bathroom, sectioned off with walls- you were most excited about the large, possibly custom tub you’d have put in, with more than enough room for you to soak with your wings in the water if you wished.

The indoor part of the upstairs should cover about two thirds of the top floor, with your bedroom not separated by a wall from the kitchen. You wanted to feel free and open in your new home. That left the rest of the second floor for your small garden you were planning to have. Viviane had made sure you knew that you could take some of the plants your grandmother had lovingly planted and tended to. She had loved that garden so much, and had done as much as she could to revive the garden after coming back from captivity, teaching you to tend to them before her cursed illness had gotten too bad.

You were planning to have the space enchanted to act as a temperature controlled greenhouse, that way the frail Winter native plants could survive even in the summer. Among them would be a few bushes: hornberry, the fertility enhancing berries, chillberry, which grow berries that help to alleviate heats, and saiberry, a helpful berry and leaf for reducing the symptoms of ruts. You would also have a variety of medicinal herbs that you used in your pastries related to general health.

You were beyond excited to start drawing up the plans for the building as soon as you had the proper permits. When you went to bed that night, it was all you could think about.

Wednesday morning, you awoke to a note from Marcus, telling you that the demolition and construction permits were approved, and to get yourself over to your lot as soon as you could.

It was only seven in the morning, but you rushed to dress for the winter weather quickly, flying down the stairs and quickly but carefully making your way to the Rainbow.

More snow had fallen overnight, and hardly anyone was out at this time. Most of the streets were still untouched by fae, and silent with the extra help of the snow. You reached the edge of the Rainbow quickly, and spotted Marcus among a dozen other men, all dressed warmly and carrying a variety of construction tools or busying themselves with the two large carts in the middle of the street, attached to two massive horses.

“Y/N!” Marcus exclaimed as soon as he met your eyes, marching over to you and pulling you back to the group. “This is our new boss for the next couple of months, gents, be nice to her, alright?” The men all nodded their heads in agreement, keeping their eyes respectful when they did dart across your form, though many lingered on your wings. “So, Y/N, would you like to take the first swing?” Marcus asked you, already handing you a heavy sledgehammer.

“Why not?” You said lightly, approaching the dilapidated building. You took a swing at one of the windows, and glass went flying into the building. The males behind you whooped, then followed your lead and began tearing down the building as quickly and effectively as they could. You turned back to Marcus, handing him the sledgehammer.

“Y/N, if you’re available now, I’d like to start drawing up the floor plans for your bakery,” Marcus suggested, and your face broke into a grin.

“I’d love nothing more than that, Marcus. But, could we get breakfast first? I came as soon as I woke up,” you said, blushing when your stomach growled, as if to prove your point.

Marcus only chuckled and took your arm, leading you East to the Palace of Flame and Steel. “Of course we can get breakfast, there’s this cute little restaurant that should be open right now, they serve some amazing breakfast foods there.”

As promised, the food in the cozy restaurant was delicious. You’d had a scramble with potatoes, peppers, onions, and sausage, topped with a good amount of cheese. The two of you left feeling stuffed, and made your way to his office, shucking off your winter gear and hanging it on the hooks near the door.

Marcus quickly started a fire in the fireplace, adding some much appreciated heat to the room. The two of you settled in around his desk, and Marcus pulled out a notepad, quill and ink.

"So, do you know what type of building you'd like? Brick, stone, wood..."

"I'd prefer having a log cabin style of building, if that's a possibility," you said, hoping that it would be.

Marcus smiled at you and wrote down your answer. "Of course we can, and we can even go to the lumber yard in a couple of days to pick out the type of wood you'd like, Y/N. Now... what were you thinking for the floor plan?"

"I want it to be a two story building, with the top floor being dedicated as an apartment and also a garden, if everything works out."

"A garden on the second floor?"

You nodded your head. "Yes, I'm planning to have it enchanted so that I can grow some Winter crops year round, and they'll be safer off the ground, I think."

"Alright, that should be doable enough. If you'd like I can direct you to an interior designer who also specializes in home and business enchantments, she should be able to make that garden happen for you."

"Perfect!" You said, clapping your hands together excitedly. Everything was already seeming possible.

The two of you spent the next five hours going over every detail that you wanted built into the building, and by the end of it he had a preliminary sketch of the building.

"The main problem with your spiral staircase would be getting the tub and furniture up and down the stairs. I do happen to have a couple of Illyrians working in my company right now, so we should be able to get the tub up before the roof's construction is done, but the furniture would most likely need to be fully assembled upstairs, or we fly it in before the roof is finished."

You bit your lip for a moment, considering your options. "That would be fine, getting everything in before the roof is finished. Would there be any problems with doing that?"

Marcus shook his head. "No, it's more just something to consider. The spiral staircase will save you some space, so it's a good idea for your floor plan to keep as much space on the first floor for the bakery. Go ahead and look over the blueprint, and tell me if anything is off." He slid the paper over to you, careful not to smear any of the still drying ink.

Your eyes greedily took in the floor plans, already looking exactly how you wanted it. The main floor was divided in the way you had pictured, and the kitchen would be wide enough to accommodate your wings and even another person, if you ended up needing to hire someone to help you.

Only one thing was missing, something you'd hadn't thought of until now.

"Would it be possible to have a fireplace on both floors? On the main floor, about halfway through the front room and on the left, and on the top floor one on the right, after the spiral staircase?"

Marcus looked at the plans for a moment before answering you. "Yes, that should be doable, especially if we allow the chimney to stick out and along the side of the building for the first floor one." He quickly sketched in the fireplace on the floor plan, then turned to the exterior mock up and added the chimney to the side. "Does that look fine to you?"

"Yes, that looks perfect! Thank you!"

"It's no problem, Y/N," Marcus said with a soft smile. "If you think of anything else you'd like in the blueprints, you can either send me a note with it or come here, I'm normally in from six in the morning to six at night."

"I'll make sure to let you know, but I honestly think we got everything down!" You said excitedly.

"I'm glad to hear that, Y/N. The tear down process should be finished by the end of the week, including getting someone in to cast a charm to keep snow from falling over the lot. Then the actual building process after that, as long as everything goes right and all we need to build is available, shouldn’t take more than two months. Now, would you like me to show you to that interior designer I mentioned?" He offered.

"Oh, I'd love that!" Right as you said it, your stomach growled loudly once again. You looked up at him sheepishly. "Want to go to lunch first?" You asked with a chuckle.

"I'd love that," Marcus replied, already standing from his chair and stretching.

You did the same, finally feeling the tension that had built in your body from sitting for so long. Your wings fluttered slightly as they stretched, before you finally relaxed once more.

The two of you threw on your outerwear again and headed out of Marcus's office, and you let him lead you to another restaurant, a different one than this morning.

"This is my favorite spot for lunch, they have these delicious sandwiches," Marcus said as he held the door open for you, letting you walk in first before following you.

It smelled heavenly inside, and if your watering mouth was anything to go by, you knew he was correct.

"I'll have whatever you're having," you told Marcus before he stepped up to the counter. "I'm sure whatever it is will be tasty, but I can't choose between all of those options," you laughed.

"That's fine, Y/N. Any foods you want to avoid?" Marcus asked, looking down at you as you shook your head. "Alright then." He stepped up to the counter, you following right behind him. "We'll have two of your cheesesteaks, please.” Marcus went to hand over his bank card like he had for breakfast this morning, but you beat him to it, grinning at him when he put his card away while shaking his head, a matching expression on his face.

After you paid, the two of you took a seat at a table near the windows, only waiting a couple of minutes to be served your sandwiches. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem, dearie,” the older high fae said with a smile before she walked back behind the counter.

“And thank you, Y/N, for buying me this delicious lunch,” Marcus said to you, right before taking a large bite of his sandwich.

“Well, you did pay for breakfast,” you said before you followed suit, finding the sandwich made of thinly sliced beef, onions, peppers, and cheese to be just as good as he’d said it would be.

“How’s Velaris been treating you so far?” He asked you after a few minutes.

You swallowed your bite, then said “It’s been really nice so far, everyone’s been very welcoming and I just feel so lucky to be here, and already be making so much progress on my business.”

Marcus smiled at you. “I’m glad to hear it, Y/N. I hope everything continues to go your way.”

“Same here. How’s your life been treating you?”

“Oh, it’s going well right now. My business has been doing better than ever in the past two years since I had a contract with the High Lady, and I happen to have a very sweet new client,” Marcus replied, and his words made you blush.

“That’s good to hear. What was it like working for the High Lady?”

“Feyre and the High Lord, Rhys, were both extremely easy to work with, pretty similar to how it’s been working with you. They knew exactly what they wanted and were good at describing it. It was an honor to work with them, and one of the best experiences I’ve had since taking over the business.”

“They sound like a lovely pair of rulers for the Court, then.”

“Oh yes, I feel we are one of the best treated cities in all of Prythian. And they’ve even begun taking steps to change how Illyria and the Hewn City are run,” Marcus added.

The two of you finished eating, and all you could think of was the High Lord and Lady, and that all of the good you’d heard about them in Winter had to be true, if Marcus, a citizen of Velaris, believed it to be true as well.

“Now, let’s get you to Gabrella’s shop, she is newer to the business, only having moved here five years ago, but all of my clients that I’ve sent to her have nothing but good things to say about her,” Marcus said, extending an arm to you after he’d returned your plates to the front counter.

He led you a few blocks away from the restaurant, deeper into the Palace of Flame and Steel. The two of you stopped in front of cute, red brick building with flower beds lining the front, covered in snow at the moment. Marcus opened the door for you, and you stepped inside, immediately loving the cozy feel of the shop, and you spotted an fae female, with large, black leathery wings coming from her back.

They were absolutely beautiful.

You’d heard of Illyrians before, and as a child had thought that wings without feathers could not possibly be pretty, but your child self was proved wrong the moment you laid eyes on her wings.

“Welcome in- oh, Marcus! Another client of yours, I presume?” The fae asked as the two of you made your way back to the counter she was seated at.

Her smell hit you, a sweet blend of mountain air, honey, and some type of berry that you couldn’t quite place- an omega. That instantly put you at ease. It’s not that Marcus’s scent wasn’t nice, the snow and pine mix was pleasant, but knowing that at least one of the people you’d be working with for the next couple of months is an omega was calming.

“Yes, my name is Y/N. I’m going to be opening a bakery with an apartment upstairs in the Rainbow soon, and Marcus is helping with the construction aspect. He said that you’re an interior designer?”

The Illyrian nodded her head and replied, “Yes, my name is Gabrella. I do interior design work and household and business enchantments.”

“Would you be able to show her a bit of your work, Rella?” Marcus asked. “She’s wanting a greenhouse for year round Winter native plants, and I know you just recently finished something similar.”

Gabrella’s eyes lit up at that, and she stood from her spot behind the counter. “I would be delighted to show you something like that, Y/N. Marcus, you can come too, if you don’t have anything else to do.”

Marcus looked at the clock on the wall to the left, sighing when he saw the time. “No, I should be getting back to check on the boys, make sure the demolition is going to plan,” he said, making his way to the door. “Y/N, remember that you can come by my office from six to six if you need anything, and you’re always free to stop by your lot at any time, alright?”

“Thanks you, Marcus. I’ll probably see you sometime tomorrow.”

“That sounds good,” he said, leaving with a wave.

“Bye Marcus!” Gabrella said right before he shut the door. “Alright, Y/N, I’ll have you come upstairs with me, my garden is on the third floor.”

You followed the other fae up the stairs, then up one more set, coming out onto a beautiful rooftop garden, filled with lovely blossoming tropical flowers. The air was warm and humid, even with their being no walls or roof.

“This is amazing,” you said, trailing your hands over a few of the blooms lightly. “How were you able to do this?” You asked, turning to Gabrella.

“Well, it took a couple of years for me to get the enchantments perfect, but it’s not too different from doing an indoor temperature control charm. It does require a bit more magical power, especially if the plants need any else besides the temperature controlled. Like the humidity, that was the part that took me the longest to get down, but now that I have, all of my sweet little plants are thriving,” Gabrella explained, looking down fondly at all of the flowers she’d been able to grow thanks to her magical talent.

“Would you be able to do something similar for me?” You asked hopefully.

“I believe I could, it may take a couple of tries to get the climate just right for you. Do you have an idea of when your building will be finished enough to start the garden?”

“Not quite, though Marcus said the whole process should take a little over two months. I’m just not sure when the second floor would be available to put the garden and enchantments in.”

“That’s perfectly fine, we can play it by ear. Were you wanting my services for anything else?” Gabrella asked, gesturing for you to head back downstairs.

“Yes, I was hoping that you would be my interior designer as well, along with any other enchantments I’d need for my building.”

“Wonderful, I’ll grab a contract for you right now,” Gabrella said after you took a seat in one of the stools in front of the counter. She rifled through a filing cabinet, pulling out a few pieces of paper. “Alright, before anything gets signed, I’d like to know what type of enchantments you’re going to want, as well as the areas of interior design you’d like help with.”

“Obviously you know about the garden,” you said, and the both of you chuckled as she wrote it down. “Plus temperature control for both floors of the building, a fireproofing charm for the kitchen if you’re able to do that.”

“Oh, yes, that’s a popular one, with the city being tightly packed everyone wants to avoid causing a fire in case it takes out a whole neighborhood,” Gabrella said. “Were you going to have a kitchen in the apartment upstairs?”

“Yes, I can’t believe I forgot to mention that,” you laughed, surprised that you were missing a few details. It had to be all the excitement, you had been drawing up floor plans all day. “Do you do plumbing enchantments?”

“Mhm, as long as you have actual plumbing pipes installed in the building, we’re able to get hot and cold water running, as well as connect it to the city’s sewer system,” she answered. “Knowing Marcus, he’s already gone over that with you?”

You nodded your head. “He sure did, he was very adamant in making sure I knew where all of the pipes would be going through the wall.”

“Yes, he’s very thorough like that. That’s why he’s one of the most in demand builders during the typical construction season. Did you have any other enchantments you were hoping for? If you can’t think of them now, I’m always able to add to your total bill, it’s just better in my experience to have as full a picture of the cost before we begin doing the actual work.”

You wracked your brain for any other spells you might need- “I’d like an enchantment that will keep the scent and sounds of the second floor separate from the first floor,” you stated, heat rising to your cheeks.

“That’s a good one!” Gabrella said enthusiastically, writing it down on the paper. “It’s very helpful for if you want to keep your business open with another staff member while you’re in heat, I have that one on my own apartment upstairs,” the omega said with a kind smile. “Anything else, or should we move on to the interior design portion?”

You couldn’t think of another enchantment you might need at the moment. “Interior design, but I’ll let you know if I think of something else.”

“Very good. For the bakery portion, what were you wanting help with?”

“I’d definitely like your help in picking out the furniture, the appliances, and the general look of the inside, and any recommendations or help with a stained glass artist that creates door panels. I do know generally what I want it to look like, but being new to town I would have no idea of where to start.” You thought about that for a moment. “So pretty much everything about it, I’d like your help with,” you giggled.

Gabrella joined you, her laugh so pleasant and fun. “That’s perfectly fine, I love helping create an entire vision! They’re the most fun for me, when my client knows exactly what they want and we just have to scavenger hunt for it all around the city.”

“That’s good, otherwise this would be a real chore for you,” you said jokingly, already loving Gabrella’s personality.

“For the second floor, what were you wanting help with?”

“Most everything again, though with the bedroom I’ll need a bit less help, nesting needs are pretty easy to satisfy on your own,” you replied, mind conjuring a soft nest filled with fabrics in light blues, silver, and white.

“I get that, nests and bedrooms are so personal to us omegas.” Gabrella’s smile was soft as she finished writing everything down. “Alright, I believe with the number and complexity of some of the enchantments, that part will run you for around 50,000 gold marks, and we do offer lifetime warranties on all of them. So if one starts to go faulty, just stop by and I’ll come and fix it as soon as I can for you. And the interior design portion will be around 25,000, and that will include the price of most items, delivery of them, and getting everything in place for you, as well as my help and advice in picking out items. Does a total of 75,000 gold marks sound reasonable to you, with these terms?” Gabrella asked, sliding a contract over to you.

You read it, including the warranty, and thought it all sounded perfectly reasonable. You picked up the extra quill she had sitting in an ink pot and signed your name to the contract. “Yes, this all sounds fine to me. Did you want to take payment now, or later?”

“If you have your bank card on you at the moment-” you were already pulling it out. “Then I’ll take a fifty percent deposit for a total of 37,500 gold marks now, and once the project is complete I’ll take the other half of the payment, plus or minus however much it falls from the estimate.” She pressed your bank card to the ledger on her desk, then handed it back to you. “I’m so happy to get to work with you, Y/N. You seem like a lovely person so far, and I do love a good bakery.”

“I’m looking forward to working with you as well, Gabrella. And I’m glad to know another omega in the city, I’ve only met one other omega here so far.”

“Yes, there aren’t too many of us here, but it’s so safe and free, I think we have a higher population of omegas than most other cities in Prythian. I’m sure you’ll meet more soon enough. Also, you can call me Rella. We’ll be working together for a while, and I have this funny little feeling that we’ll be friends,” Rella said kindly. “Now, would you like to go look at some kitchen stoves and counters if you have time?”

You beamed- nothing would have excited you more at the moment. “I would love to do that, it’s one of the areas I’m looking forward to furnishing most!”

Rella offered her arm to you, which you gladly took. “Perfect! Now, what type of color scheme were you wanting for the kitchen? It might change which shops we go to.”

“I think… soft pastels? Possibly winter themed, or maybe in pinks.”

Rella grinned at you. “I’m liking you more and more with every passing minute,” she said, dragging you away from her shop after locking it up. “We’re going to Arana’s shop, she has the cutest kitchen and dining room furniture you will every see!”

In a few minutes, after a couple of twists and turns through the streets, you arrived at a pastel pink shop, looking very much out of place next to the mostly dark, wooden building surrounding it. Rella pulled you inside, shouting “Arana! I have a new client, you’re going to love her!”

A female stepped out from a back room, ice blonde hair and white wings at her back.

Peregryn. Another Peregryn.

You’d only ever met you’d mother, no others of your kind before. And as you got closer to her- and omega, with a soft scent of pine, cinnamon, and fresh air.

“Well, it’s rare to meet another Peregryn in Velaris, my name is Arana. And yours is…?”

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you,” you said as you shook her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” Arana responded warmly. “You said she’s a client of yours, Rella?”

“Yes, she’s building a bakery in the Rainbow-”

“Wonderful! I’ve been wanting a bakery on this side of the Sidra for so long, I hate walking all the way over to the other side in the winter,” Arana interrupted, the looked to Rella sheepishly. “Sorry, Rella, go on please?”

“I know, I’m excited about it too,” Rella laughed. “Shes working with Marcus, and it sounds like they’re still in the process of tearing down the previous building, but the two of us would like to start looking for furniture, countertops, and of course stoves.”

“Oh, is it gonna be a cute bakery?” Arana asked hopefully, and you nodded your head.

“Yes, it’s going to look like a log cabin, and I’m hoping the furniture I get will make it look cute and cozy inside!” You gush, so happy that there are people already excited about your business, even if you were going to be paying them a lot of money in the process. The two of them sound genuinely excited about it, so that didn’t matter.

“Oh, you’ll need log chairs, probably with a selection of different colors of cushions, maybe even some log benches, plus log tables of course to go with the little log theme-”

“All of that sounds great! Do you have any in here?” You asked, already wanting to see some.

“I don’t have any log furniture at the moment, but the shop next door does. I’ll be able to provide the cushions for them, though I’d recommend waiting to pick them out until you know the type of wood you’re using, so that you get the best color match,” Arana offered, pointing to the shop east of hers. “I do have plenty of stove and countertop options, if you’re wanting to go for bright colors in the kitchen. And I do make display cases as well, when you’re ready to look for those.”

You smiled in excitement and said, “Show me the stoves, please.”

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

The three of you spent the next few hours looking at all Arana had to offer, and you found many different options that you liked. It all depended on what color scheme you ended up going with, but whether it would be done in blues, whites, and silvers or in soft pinks and purples, you were sure you’d be buying from Arana’s store.

The designs and sturdiness of her furnishings were perfect in your opinion, and you were so excited to see your kitchen come together once the building was finished.

You and Rella waved goodbye to Arana as you departed, promising to come back in a few weeks to finalize your decisions, having been sent home with a pamphlet filled with the designs of furniture she offered so that you could think on it further.

You and Rella parted at her shop, leaving you to walk back to the Inn alone, relishing in the sounds of the city as it came alive for the night.

It was nearly seven in the evening when you passed by a restaurant at the end of the Palace of Hoof and Leaf, right next to the bridge that would get you home. The smell coming from the restaurant was heavenly, full of garlic and smelling as though it could burn your tongue with the spice alone. You entered the restaurant, and were quickly seated at the bar, admiring the lively atmosphere before looking over the menu. They served noodle bowls, most of them having a between three and five little peppers drawn next to their names. Judging by the smell in the air, you wouldn’t survive more than a two pepper dish, so you choose the one that had the most garlic in it, sautéed with chicken, zucchini, green cabbage and onions, and of course noodles.

The dish you got was fantastic, as garlicky as you’d hoped for and spicy enough to bring tears to your eyes.

All of the food you’d had in Velaris so far was amazing, and you were excited to delve further into the cookbook that you had back in your room, if these were the types of recipes that were waiting for you.

After paying, you made your way back to the inn more slowly than before, taking time to admire the people skating on the now frozen over Sidra. Everyone seemed to be happy.

It was nice to be a part of that, of a city so joyous at all times.

By the time you made it to your room, it was past eight, and you wanted nothing more than a hot bath and some sleep.

You stripped out of your dress after taking off your outerwear and boots, then peeled off your tights and underthings. You would need to do laundry soon, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

Your bath was lovely, the hot water warming you nicely and stealing the tension from your muscles. Your bed was even lovelier, so fluffy and soft, and you drifted off to sleep just a few minutes after your head landed on the pillow.

Series Taglist: @icey--stars @breadsticks2004

[casper-spills]

| Tarot Cards: Places they represent |

✩░▒▓▆▅▃▂▁𝟑𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥!▁▂▃▅▆▓▒░✩

Hey guys! Welcome back to another post ♡

We reached 300 followers! And I'm gonna do a special for you guys because I seriously am so grateful for all of your support. My blog has been growing so fast and I literally never expected to be where I am today. Thank you! ♡

This post will be a little different to my usual stuff. I was thinking I might start a series like this where I give some tips on how to read your tarot! I'll also include the sources I use at the end in case you wanted to check those out too.

Anyway, here is a list of places that the cards represent ♡

Sincerely,

Cassy the friendly ghost ♡

✦Masterlist ✦Paid Readings ✦Support me through Kofi

𓆩♡𓆪 𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝙀𝙍 𝘿𝙄𝙎𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏 50% 𝙊𝙁𝙁 !! 𓆩♡𓆪

Ends on September 22nd

| KO-FI SHOP |

| MAJOR ARCANA |

1. Magician - Kitchen, labatory, shows, music, magic, performances

2. High Priestess - Secret place, secret society, library, somewhere quiet, reading rooms, theatre, halls

3. Empress - Old/stately homes, old school building, old hospital building, boutique, beauty parlor, restaurants

4. Emperor - Royal palace, business establishments, schools, univerisity

5. Heirophant - Church, univeristy, temple, place of worship, corporate building

6. Lovers - Sweet shop, date locations, love hotel, honeymoon places

7. Chariot - Car ralley, racing fixtures, garages, horse racing, highway

8. Strength - Zoo, petting zoos, gym, fitness studios

9. Hermit - Cave, retreat centres, hill walking

10. Wheel - Ferris wheels, london eye, casino, lottery tickets, shops selling wheels

11. Justice - Court, arbitration offices, counselling institution, police department

12. Hanged Man - Bungee jumping, sky diving, thrilling activities

13. Death - Church yard, funeral parlor, butcher, cemetary

14. Temperance - Cocktail bar, queues, waiting rooms, chemist dispensary

15. Devil - Adult shops, clubs, casinos, brothel, strip clubs

16. Tower - Chop shops, tall buildings, skyscrapers, stormy areas, fire

17. Star - Water, ocean, river, stargazing

18. Moon - Nighttime, stargazing, movie, stage, theatre

19. Sun - Birth centre, midwifery unti, hospital, holidays, tanning booths, abroad

20. Judgement - Rehabilitation centres, church, treament centres, spa

21. World - Airport, flying, dance studios

| MINOR ARCANA |

☁︎ 𝒔𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 ☁︎

Ace - Editor's room, skyscrapers, office, library, radio tower

Two - Statue of liberty, new york, seashore

Three - Hospital, rainy place, cloudy areas

Four - Bedroom, quiet places, funeral parlor

Five - Debate club, near water, themepark, competitive environments

Six - Boats, river, cruisers

Seven - Archery, secret location, casino, bomb shelter

Eight - Prison, therapy

Nine - Psychiatric hospital, confessional

Ten - Surgery room, accupuncture clinic, dentists

Page - Fraternity, rowdy places, sports arena

Knight - Windy places, windmills

Queen - Fenced off places, great walls, boundaries, spikes fences

King - Lawyers office

🕯 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 🕯

Ace - Workshop, construction site

Two - Balcony, overseas, historical travel, boat

Three - Seaside, boat travel

Four - Fastfood, cafe, outdoors, wedding, celebration

Five - Sport centre, pool game

Six - Market, downtown, show, event, someone/something noticable

Seven - Competitive/violent environment

Eight - Road trip, highway

Nine - Competitive environment, barrier, wall, bouncer, high security

Ten - Workplace, labour, sweatshop

Page - Disco, dance, party

Knight - Hot and dry place, bonfire, abroad, holiday

Queen - Social events

King - Active place, fast moving environments

꒦꒷ 𝒄𝒖𝒑𝒔 ꒷꒦

Ace - Lake, pond, birdbath, birds

Two - Luxury, home, common dating places

Three - Bar, pub, party

Four - Under a tree, graveyard

Five - A place of regret, place of bad memories, hospital, flooded areas, bridge, after party cleanup, alone in a bar

Six - Flourists, schoolyard, playground, nostalgic places

Seven - Highup places, views, drug suppliers, spots where people do drugs, drug shops

Eight - Bookstore, library, cave, quiet

Nine - Bar, party, pub, dinner, home

Ten - Family gatherings, park, outdoor, bbq party

Page - Aquariums, fish tanks, sea parks

Knight - Picnics, peaceful/romantic areas

Queen - Bathtub with cancles, home, skinny dipping, swimming

King - Beach, lake

˗ˏˋ 𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒔 ˎˊ˗

Ace - Dispensary, bank, currency exchange centre

Two - Circus, arcade, carnival

Three - Fashion show runway, art gallery, boutique, museum

Four - Uncle scrooge's home, gold reserves, saferoom, secret hideout, vault

Five - The streets, people living in powerty, homeless spots,

Six - Pawn shops, currency exchange shops, trade stores

Seven - Nursery, orchard

Eight - workshop, construction site

Nine - Gardens, green parks

Ten - Market

Page - Field, farm, family business

Knight - Workplace, chores, school

Queen - Home, nursery room

King - Bank manager's office

♥Thank you for your support!♥

Dividers by @cafekitsune, @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Source

[simonsrosebud]

Andreil. Neil has a little accident and has temporarily amnesia. He flips out and is running, falling in old patterns. Andrew and others look for him

THIS WAS SO FUN!!


Andrew knows Neil. Inside and out. He knows how he moves on the court and off, how he sounds when he and Kevin go at it versus when he’s beneath Andrew, how his lips twitch when he tries holding back the grin he sees in his father and the squinty eyes he doesn’t care to hide when he laughs, how he opens himself up when laid bare on the bed and wants wants wants whatever Andrew is willing to give. Andrew knows how he thinks, how he expresses himself, how he panics and worries and takes initiative.

Andrew knows Neil.

But when Neil wakes up in the hospital, one thing is clear.

Neil does not know Andrew.

It starts on the court, the Foxhole Court, during a match against Edgar Allan. It would, of course. The nest closed just a year and a half ago, and despite half of the players either killing themselves or getting killed, there was still something of a team left over when the season started in the fall. Not good enough to win, but not bad enough to lose easily.

Andrew’s post in goal was the same as always. Watch, defend, reflect. This time around with significantly less goals to block, since Kevin and Neil have taken control the second half.

Neil Josten, legally and fully, zipping around the court faster than the speed of light. Vice Captain, Andrew’s roommate and something else, PSU’s best legacy thus far.

And he goes down like he weighs less than a feather.

To be clear, his helmet comes off first, flying and rolling away from him as he goes tumbling, into the wall head first, and then underneath a beast of a human being post-impact. And when the Raven shakily gets up, Neil doesn’t.

Andrew blacked out after that. He blacked out from the second he realized it was Neil’s helmet teetering beside Kevin’s foot to the second Wymack told him he was stable, just unconscious.

That was yesterday.

Yesterday was bearable after that. Neil was alive and asleep and definitely had a wild concussion, but he was fine and within Andrew’s reach.

Now, he’s throwing up in a bucket and freezing when his eyes land on Andrew. And Andrew knows, he knows, right then and there, that this is not the same Neil Josten that came into this hospital. This is Nathaniel Wesninski. This is Abram. Andrew just doesn’t know where Abram left off.

The panic is there clear as day, so is the pain and the confusion, and Abram is lucky that he’s wearing the hoodie the doctor allowed Wymack to put on him while he shivered early this morning because Andrew’s pretty sure if he catches sign of his arms he’s going to have a meltdown.

Still, he tries. “Neil.”

Abram looks, answers to the name, swallows heavily. Neil exists in there somewhere. “You got checked into the wall, your helmet came off.”

And he’s shaking his head, trembling fingers coming up to his hair to pull on it. “Why am I- You- Millport isn’t- I-I, I can’t be here. What the fuck- What are you doing here?”

And oh, Neil Josten exists alright. If only just barely.

Andrew stands, calmly presses the button to call the doctor, and sits again. “You are my teammate. What is the last thing you remember?”

He scoffs, fingers tightening in the sheets. Don’t look at your hands. “You are not… You’re Andrew Minyard.”

“Old news.”

Neil, predictably, starts panicking more, because then Kevin is waiting outside the room and peeking just barely through the glass until Andrew locks the door on him, and Neil is scrambling against the bed, fingers shaking too much to take the IV out of his arm despite trying. “Fucking Christ,” Andrew grunts as he swats his hand away from it, reverting to gripping Neil’s wrists. If it wasn’t for his own good it would make Andrew sick to be restraining him like this. “Do not,” he warns.

“You brought him. I have to get out of here, I won’t- I won’t go back there-“

Neil chokes on his breath, trying to pull his hands away and jesus did he just try to head-but Andrew? “Abram,” Andrew raises his voice just loud enough to cut through the breathing and grunting and struggling.

Neil freezes, and it’s not in realization but in deep rooted terror. His face blanches and his hands make fists. “Who are you,” he whispers. “You’re- You’re supposed to be a no one, you’re not- you’re not supposed to know- I- you have to let me go.” “No-“ “Andrew please-“ “Stop it.” “You- You can’t make me go- He’ll kill me, they’ll kill me, you have-“

“Knock it off,” Andrew barks. He lets go of Neil’s hands and backpedals. He can’t do the touching and the begging and the memories, the grief, the brief loss, the-

“Your father is dead. Romero and Plank are dead. Lola is in prison, Riko is dead, no one is dying, and I am not a mole taking you back to Baltimore so shut the fuck up and listen to me,” he says. It’s fast and stern and Neil shuts up so fast that his head looks like it spins. Andrew isn’t used to talking so fast, not after being off his meds.

He takes a deep breath. “It is October, 2008. You are a junior at Palmetto State University, you are the caption of the Foxes Exy team despite your attitude problem. Your name is Neil Abram Josten. Your father kidnapped you a year and a half ago and tried to kill you. Your uncle’s people got there in time and killed him. We left Nathaniel in Baltimore with your father.” Neil drops his head to his hands. “The FBI made Neil Josten a real person. Kevin knows who you are. We all do. No one cares. We’re past that.”

And… Neil clearly doesn’t know what to think considering the way he shakes his head slowly and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. “How the fuck do you expect me to believe that?”

God, how to answer such a thing? Andrew can’t recount where Neil’s scars are because it would only allude to the idea that he looked without permission. He didn’t have photos on his phone to show proof, though he could text Nicky to bring as many as possible at the drop of a hat.

He could tell stories, though. “You burned and buried your mother on a beach in California after a run in that got her shot. Your father smacked you with a hot iron because you didn’t sit still enough. Lola taught you how to use knives; you, Kevin, and Riko all watched your father cut a man to pieces at Evermore when you were a child. You had a tryout for Tetsuji before your mother took you and ran,” he says. “When you got shot,” he points to his own shoulder, “you wouldn’t take off your kevlar vest to even take a shower. You have a binder that hides money and safe houses within codes. You speak German, French, some Spanish, and have been learning Russian with me for the past year. You have friends and a life and protection from the Moriyama’s,” he says and crouches by the bed so that he’s only a bit lower than Neil. “You are safe. You just have amnesia.”

Neil continues to stare. The monitor he’s hooked up to shows how fast his heart is beating, but Andrew doesn’t look at it. He doesn’t look away from Neil because he needs to be able to see the truth and raw honesty in Andrew’s face. He can see the wheels turning, gears piling themselves up, and something finally must click or at least nag at his brain because Andrew catches Neil’s eyes flick down to his lips for a moment. “Why are you here? Why not- If you’re telling the truth, then…” he trails off.

“Because you are paranoid about hospitals and have a fear of needles.” Neil frowns further. “And because I wouldn’t let them take you without me,” he says in Russian. Neil’s eyes dart back to his, wide and alert and yes, because Andrew knows he understands him. He wants to count it as a victory.

“How the fuck do I know Russian?” It comes out louder than Andrew thinks he means to. “I don’t think… I don’t know if I could speak it, but I understood you. Why did I learn it with you?”

Jesus. Andrew sits back in the chair beside Neil’s bed and raises a calm eyebrow. “You were sick of people trying to figure this out,” he gestures between the two of them. “And I didn’t want anyone to understand us when telling you I want to blow you.”

Neil almost flinches in surprise at that. This time he lets himself stare at Andrew’s face unashamed. “So that’s why you’re here.”

-

Taking Neil home is an ordeal. He has a panic attack when he sees his arms and face; another one when Kevin finally gets himself into the room unannounced; flinches and tries to curl in on himself when Wymack comes storming into the room upon hearing that he’s awake; sits awkwardly while Robin cries when he doesn’t remember her; and has another meltdown when Nicky finally shows up with photos, proving Neil’s existence on the Foxhole lineup and essentially that everything Andrew said is true.

He’s given painkillers for the raging concussion headache he gets by the time he’s discharged- pills that he doesn’t take, to be clear, and stumbles to Andrew’s side when Wymack steps closer to grab the hospital bag from him. He accidentally latches onto Andrew’s sleeve, then lets go instantly like he’s been burned. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“He’s coming with us, Coach.”

Kevin gets booted from coming to Columbia because Neil is still wary of him, and Aaron comes just because Andrew tells him to, even if just for his medical knowledge. Aaron tries telling him he’s not in med school yet, but it doesn’t change his mind. Nicky, well, Nicky just comes for the ride.

The week following is…

Well, for starters, Andrew hates sleeping on the couch because of it being out in the open, but there’s no way he will continue sleeping in his bed with Neil like normal. They’re not there anymore.

The only upside is that when Andrew tells him he’s sleeping in his room, Neil goes upstairs and stands in the doorway of his room, albeit unsurely, without being told which room is which. His autopilot has been working, but when it comes to detail and memory he blue screens.

He doesn’t sleep, and Neil is in pain because he won’t take anything to relieve the pain, and Aaron won’t shut the fuck up about forcing him to take something.

Then, Neil runs.

He’s out the door before anyone else is awake, before he can be caught, and runs two miles. Through the neighborhood and onto a main road. He runs. His phone is left on Andrew’s bed and he shouldn’t even be running anyway with the state of his head.

Nicky is the first to notice. He’s nosy as always, and peeks into the bedroom to check on him at 5am. Andrew knows the second he rushes downstairs with a haunted look on his face. Stubbornly, all Andrew can think is not again.

To his frustration, Aaron is the one who finds him. Tells Andrew to follow Neil’s usual running pattern, path. Andrew’s never been on a run with him, though, because he’d rather stab himself. Nicky did it once in Palmetto, and Aaron gave in with Neil and Kevin back in March when he and Katelyn went through a brief rough patch.

And despite all odds, despite Neil not truly knowing his way around Columbia in this state, he’s sitting on the curb at his usual halfway point spot. Also known as the spot Nicky picked Aaron up from when he gave up after two miles.

Neil doesn’t apologize. Doesn’t make excuses. Just slides into the passenger seat and waits for the other two to go back inside before saying to Andrew, “Don’t let me run.”

“Don’t run.”

“I can’t- I’m not all there… yet,” he looks distraught as he taps his temple. “I know I shouldn’t run, I clearly have a life here and people I care about. But I’m-I’m still in Arizona in my mind. It was my first reaction to everything for longer than I can remember.”

So Andrew nods. “I won’t let you run.”

Day three and four are fine. Neil knows he likes pecan pancakes even though he had never had them until three weeks ago, and him and Aaron are just as douchey to each other as usual despite Aaron saying anything to make him believe he’s a dick. Neil Andrew catches him asking, yes or no, before stealing Andrew’s cigarette.

Night five is when nightmares start up, and they continue throughout the next week. Andrew isn’t a stranger to them, neither is Neil, but these are vivid. They are fuzzy memories twisted with what his mind fills in, and the second time in one night that Neil wakes up nearly screaming, he staggers down the stairs on unsteady feet into the den where Andrew is, sitting up and alert as he stands in the doorway like a deer caught in headlights. Neil drops to his knees, gasping, and pushes himself against the wall. Andrew has to lower in front of him slowly, and makes sure that Neil is watching as he puts a hand on the back of his neck. The effect is the same as always.

“Riko waterboarded me,” he wheezes, sucking in a harsh breath. “True or not true?”

Andrew purses his lips. “True. He invited you to Evermore over winter break your freshman year with a threat to make my rehab… therapeutic reenactments.” It feels like bile on his tongue, Neil snaps his head up, though, as if understanding what the reenactment was. “You went. He tortured you for two weeks.”

“And… Ichirou shot him in the head,” he whispers. “True? Or not true?” He shudders when Andrew nods.

Neil chews on his lip. “You and me… having sex,” it rocks Andrew to the core, thinking that Neil is still referring to a nightmare, but the curious and comfortable set to his body tells otherwise.

“True.”

Neil hums, ears and neck pink. “Do- Did we… do that a lot?”

Andrew wills himself not to crack. “Sex, no…” he started slowly. “Only twice,” he murmured. “Other things, yes.”

Neil looks away for a hot moment, taking a slow steady breath despite his red cheeks and goosebumps along his collarbone. Then he frowns deeply again, reminded of something more sinister than careful touches and honey eyes. There’s a few more he confirms or denies, and eventually Neil closes his eyes. “They’re blending together. All these fucking nightmares.”

“I will set them straight for you,” Andrew promises. “Trust me to tell the truth.”

Neil swallows, heavy and nervous, and cracks his eyes open. It takes him a few minutes to settle, to let his eyesight fully focus, before he looks up and meets Andrew’s eyes, blue gemstones alluring and tormented. “I trust you.”

[mxtantrights]

Bounded by shadow and blood (20)

azriel x magic!fem!reader

Time passes by very quickly you find when you don’t have to deal with your grief alone. It’s happened before with the death of your parents. Your brother and Cyril helped you through it, as they were also going through it. And suddenly it was almost a distant memory about a year after.

Now, things are different. You’re grieving the deaths of Cyril and your brother, the people who knew you the most. The people who you had the most time with in the word. 

Some days were okay. You could walk around the palace that is filled with memories and hold your head up. You could talk with Amren in a room and not feel the walls closing in.

Those days were easy.

But there are other days. Where going on without them is an insurmountable task. It feels like pushing a bounder up a hill only to have it roll back down at the end of each day.

Every room held a memory that you wanted to desperately cling to. A smell that you knew would fade with time. 

On the bad days you don’t leave your room. You go hours without moving. It’s only when you miss a meal that Amren comes in. Or Azriel.

He’s there on your good days. But he’s also there on the bad ones.

Like today. 

The sun is going down and you haven’t left your room since breakfast. It just hit you like a wave. All of a sudden you were fine. You were eating breakfast with Azriel and Amren. When they left to do their daily tasks you were fine.

Then you got a letter. A letter from Elias telling you that news had gotten around about your healing abilities. And that news has left the winter court and traveled far and wide already.

That’s when you felt it. Surprisingly in contrast of more people knowing about you, you felt it. The loneliness. 

As the day went on your mind couldn’t stop running with possibilities. How you had managed to put the people in the village in harms way. Just because you did the right thing. You fell for Kynas’ trap, whatever it was.

A knock comes from your door. You look over to it, but you don’t say anything. You knew if it were Amren or Azriel they would know you were inside based on their hearing abilities. 

When you don’t say anything you watch as the knob turns. The door opens a slice and you hear someone clear their throat. Azriel. Amren would just walk right in.

“Are you decent?” He asks.

“No.” You answer.

It’s the first word you’ve spoken since this morning. It comes out groggy and cracked. And you know that he knows you’re lying because he opens the door and lets himself in upon hearing your answer. 

You turn away from him and go back to staring out the balcony. As he gets closer you realize that you’ll have to use more words in this conversation. But if you didn’t want to talk to him, or anyone for that matter, you would have locked the door.

His arm brushes against yours as he places his hands on the railing. 

“I’m failing at my duties here.” He says.

As you turn to look at him you notice that he’s already looking at you. So you pass him a curious look, urging him to go on. 

“How good of a husband am I if let you wither in your grief all day?” He asks.

You can’t help how the corners of your mouth lift. Azriel smiles at your reaction.

“You don’t have to talk. I can do enough talking for the both of us today, if you’d like that of course.” He says.

You nod your head. He turns his body to you. In turn you turn your body to him.

“Well, I’ll start with my visit to the village. A lot of people invited me into their homes today. I am well fed and have more than enough gifts in my room. I took Semaj flying too...” He starts.

You lean against the balcony more and take him in as he keeps going. You did find him attractive when you first met. You wouldn’t have admitted it then, but you will now. And it is more than attraction that you feel around him.

It’s comfort. In a world now where you are the only survivor of your family, you feel home with him and Amren. Amren is different though, you knew her before him and had a different type of bond.

With Azriel it feels like something more. You can’t tell if it’s because of your blood flowing through his veins, or something else. But you do want to find out.

At the mention of your name you tune back in. You have to actually blink away your thoughts. And the sight of that makes him snicker. You can’t help to laugh too.

“I think I might have bored you.” He says.

You shake your head, “No. The opposite actually.”

“Ah,” He tilts his head back, “I don’t know what to say.”

You step closer to him. He doesn’t shy away. Slowly you reach your hand to his face. Your fingers brush against his bottom lip.

“I knew you were lying when I woke up that day. I hit you and you bled from your lip, I could scent my blood.” You admit.

Azriel doesn’t say anything. All you can hear from him is a hum. You don’t know if it’s in approval or disapproval.

“Semaj scented it too. That’s why I sent him away in the woods.” You continue.

You fingers move from his lips to his chin. Then his jaw, and then down they travel to his neck. His pulse is erratic. It makes you look at him in wonder.

Here he is. Shadow singer. Nervous.

"When you sat by the river, I thought to myself that you fit in quite well here.” You say.

“It feels good here.” Azriel speaks.

You can feel his voice against your fingers. It makes your eyes dip just for a moment, from his eyes to his lips.

“I could have lost you. Even though I don’t have any hold on you—“ you start.

Azriel cuts you off. He grabs your wrist suddenly with his opposite hand. You look at where you two are in contact. It’s not a rough action but a soft one. Even though there are callouses on his palm. And the back side of his hand is scarred. You realize he can feel your pulse too. You haven’t thought about how your heart is beating until now.

“You and I both know that is not true.” He cuts you off.

You look back up at him.

“I do have one thing to ask you.” You whisper.

If he weren’t so close to you he probably wouldn’t hear it. Or he would, and he would pretend that he didn’t to spare you. But this, right here in this moment, there is no sparing each other anything. It feels real. It feels honest.

“Go ahead,” he says.

“Do you think there will be a war?” You ask him.

Azriel looks at you for a moment. Then two. And then he lets go of your wrist. All at once you think you’ve said the wrong thing. That you have lost him before you even begun. 

You drop your own hand at the loss of contact.

He clears his throat.

“I’m almost sure of it.” He answers.

The answer isn’t one that does you any good. You wish he had said no. You wish he had said anything but what he actually said because that makes your next decision even harder.

You wring your hands in front of you, “My people will be targets or weapons in this war.”

“I won’t let that happen.” Azriel says firmly.

“It’s too late. Kynas made sure of it when he sent that wounded boy my way. I healed him in front of people, and those people will talk.” You explain.

Azriel shakes his head, “We can track down the witnesses. Tell them to keep it a secret.”

“Azriel, I have to protect my people. No matter what.” You say.

“What does that mean?” He asks you.

You sigh, “I have already asked Thesan if he would help situate some of them in Dawn. But I know some of them will want to fight. And those warriors would take well to learn from the best.” 

“You want to send blood benders into the night court.”

“You can tell Rhysand that I turned out to be an ally after all.” 

“Tell him yourself,” another voice cuts in.

Both you and Azriel break apart further. As if that were even possible. But it is. You and him with about three feet of space between the two of you. 

Amren is standing at the door to your room. She has her arms crossed, and her face looks anything but happy.

“Rhysand is requesting an audience with the empress of the blood benders.” Amren says.

[forgetmyreality]

A Pound of Flesh:

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen!reader

Word Count: 1000ish

Synopsis: Reader is the first born daughter of Rhaenyra (with Daemon, they had an affair after Jace’s birth but before Luc), she normally was the quiet, reserved one, who adored her books more than life in court, but in order to protect her family there is nothing she wouldnt do, even if it meant great pain, but maybe it will be the start of something so much more

Warnings: threats, targcest, kinda strangers to enemies to lovers?, I don't know if missing anything, Slight UA, at storm’s end Luce doesn't die

A/N english isn’t my first language and its not beta’d

A/N2: MDNI, 18+ only

A/N3: Flashbacks/translations/thoughts in italics

A/N4: I have an idea to continue this but I want to test the waters first so please enjoy and let me know what you think!!!!

A Pound of Flesh:

“Please Mother, let me go with Lucerys” you pleaded Queen Rhaenyra, folding your hands in front of you. “I have this feeling something bad is going to happen and I want to be there to protect him”

Your mother looked down at you from her position at the head of the stone table “I already said no, Y/N” she said in a demanding tone. “He is being sent as an envoy not a warrior, the Stags will not harm him” she waved her hand at you in a dismissive fashion.

“I will go Mother, with or without your approval” you slipped out uncharacteristically, shocking not only the Queen but yourself as well. “I don’t understand this feeling but I know I need to go but I prefer to have your consent.

Locking eyes with Rhaenyra, she sees the urgency storming in your features. “I allow this if you will finally perform your duty and agree to a marriage match I decide on, my daughter”

You nod in approval and briskly head for the door. Stopping a few steps before it, turning your head to get one last look at your mother saying only slightly louder than a whisper “thank you”

You take off on your dragon following after Luc, flying as fast as your dragon can take you to reach Storm's End. The feeling of dread only grows in your lower stomach as the rain pelts down on you, the dragon dodging the strikes of lightning from the heavens as he flys. Although the journey to Storm’s end is short, it’s dangerous and it feels like forever because of the weather.

Finally reaching your destination and landing in the courtyard, a stroke of lightning illuminates the shadowy figure of Vaghar who lets out a menacing roar behind a stone wall. Meaning her rider must also be here trying to get Borros Baratheon on the side of Aegon in the potential war. The sight causes you to run faster, pushing past the guards and servants in your way to get to your brother.

“I demand payment for my eye” Aemond screams at your little brother in the throne room that you just barged into. Seeing Aemond lunge for the smaller boy, you immediately dash in front of Luc, shielding him from the threat

“You want your pound of flesh Aemond? Fine, I shall pay it, take my eye” you lift your chin giving him better access to your eye. You stare at him in a daring manner. Do it, take it, I must protect Luc and I must put a stop to this madness.

He comes impossibly close to you, his lips mere inches from yours, staring in your eyes. If an outsider was witnessing the both of you, without hearing the moments before, they would have assumed it was two people madly in love, approaching a passion filled kiss.

“Luc, leave us now” without moving or breaking eye contact with Aemond you push your brother towards the door “please”

Aemond raised his dagger, bringing it closer to your face. The action filled with hesitation which surprises you. With the tip of the blade within centimeters of your eye, the world seems frozen in place. Everything and everyone else seems to disappear and nothing heard over the sounds of Aemond’s heavier than normal breathing.

Aemond’s eyes never leaving yours

You whisper in high valyrian “Nyke shijetra ao” (I forgive you)

The first time you saw Aemond, It was before he lost his eye. You were enamoured, his quiet demeanour entranced you. You both became fast friends bonding over books you’ve read.

He loved you. “Let’s marry when we are older” he would often whisper promisingly to you, one he planned to make a reality.

After he lost his eye he drifted away from you. You often felt like you were chasing after him, and yet he would avoid you at all costs, Aemond was just always out of reach. Years went on like this, he became darker, more closed off, bullying those around him to fill the void he didn’t know was left by you.

He wore adulthood like a badge of honour, nose held high but that never stopped you from loving him.

“Clingy whore, leave me alone, I don’t want to be around you. Get that through your thick skull” He yelled at you after a particularly hard battle when you got too close.

That was the last straw, the last thing he said to you and you to him. The look of hurt on your face burned in his memory haunting him every time he tried to sleep. After all he said the most hurtful words purposely so you would finally give up on him and go and find someone truly worthy of you… someone unlike him…someone not mangled. It broke your heart and his.

You you repeated in high valyrian “Nyke shijetra ao” (I forgive you)

And the clanging of the dagger was heard echoing throughout the halls… Aemond dropped it. He spared you.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N” tears welling up, threatening to fall.

You stood there frozen, heart pounding as Aemond fled the throne room heading for Vhagar.

Part 2

[poisonedbywine]

Illusion

Leon S. Kennedy x female reader

Warnings: Bullying, Violence, swearing, strong words

Notes: I had this in my head for a while... Today is so cold and I love writing in the cold, even with my fingers frozen.

English is not my native language, Translator may have made a spelling error.

I had a best friend.

His name was Leon, he was in his first year of elementary school.

-"Can you swing me?" Leon pulled me to the swing.

-"I push you!" I gave a big smile with my eyes almost closed and I started to push the swing, seeing it fly in the sky.

-"I'M FLYING!" Leon shouted, which made me laugh and shake as hard as I could.

And when I least expected it, Leon fell off the swing.

There I was, sitting in the uncomfortable chair in the hospital waiting room.

Everyone looking at me.

-"What's a kid supposed to be doing here?" A girl whispered.

The nurse told me that Leon's uncles they asked me to go home, as it was already dark.

I smiled and agreed, handing them a small drawing as an apology for the broken arm.

I shouldn't have stood by and watched

I was supposed to help my friend.

The next day, Leon was sitting on the stool.

I wasn't excited to play today

Mom fought with me, because I had broken Leon's arm.

I just stayed quiet, receiving the scolding

-"Bad girl! No one told you to do that to your only best friend, at least he accepts you the way you are."- Mom's words echoed in my head.

Leon hugged me.

Like a bear, squeezing me really tight.

I want to know why he's hugging me

But even so, I hugged him back and smiled.

-" Do not worry, everything is fine."-

-"I was the one swinging the swing, Lee."- I take a sigh

Leon said everything was fine, and that he would let me sign his cast with my markers.

I smiled and said goodbye to him, heading to my classroom.

A little ball of paper was thrown at me

I opened it, and on it was a drawing of a whale with my name on top.

I heard my classmates laughing behind me

I wanted to cry.

So I lay down on my little table and I laid my head on my arms, which were on top of the wood, hiding my eyes.

And I cried

My eyes wet everything, especially my pillows and my teddy bears at night.

The bell had rung

Snack time!!

I ran down the stairs and sat on the stool where Leon and I were.

I waited for him, like every day

There he was, with his Iron Man lunch box and his arm and cast full of drawings that his classmates had made, running to me.

I smiled, moving to the side so he could sit down.

-"I brought the pen." - I said quietly

-"I saved your place here"- Leon pointed to a small blank patch on the plaster.

I made a colorful drawing of me and him holding hands.

-" What did they do today?"-

I didn't want Leon to know they were mean to me again today, even though he always found out the truth.

That's why I said nothing unusual happened

-"You are cool, my star. Don't let them say otherwise."- Leon he put his arm over my shoulder and pulled me into a hug.

-" I'm already seven years old, I already know how to take care of myself very well."-

Leon laughed, but soon the bell rang and I had to say goodbye.

I got home and ran up the stairs to my room

I covered my ears with my hands and curled up on the bed

I hated when mom and dad fought

Mom always came out crying and with a black eye

He took his anger out on everything, including me

But they're the only people who love me

I don't blame them for anything.

I love them very much, because they have not abandoned me.

The next day, I didn't want to go to school.

It was physical education and I hated it

But, unfortunately, daddy made me go

Daddy was bad sometimes

Sometimes.

Including the times he made me go to school

When I arrived, Leon wasn't there

One of his friends told me that he missed his wake-up time, and ended up missing

I would be alone today

When the bell rang, I would jump over the wall and run to my bed

I entered the sports court and sat down on the floor

I was the last to be chosen.

I was on a good team!

I liked football, so I managed to score a goal, I was so happy with myself.

But when I went to get the ball, one of the boys on my team pushed me to the ground

-"GET OUT OF MY WAY"- The boy screamed and kicked my stomach on purpose, he walked away and joined the other boys.

I screamed in pain and lay on the floor, some girls on my team laughed.

"STOP LAUGHING!"

I had the strength to get up from the floor and scream as loud as I could

Everyone looked at me

"So the whale can talk?" One of the bad boys spoke

"Shut up! SHUT UP!!"

"Let's teach this girl a lesson."

Both teams came running towards me with their fists closed, and I covered my face with my hands.

Punches, kicks, slaps, were received against my body on the floor, curled up on the green grass of the football field.

"Stronger"

"Let's throw harder punches!"

"Whale, obese."

"Weak."

"You are a backstop."

"I hope you die."

I no longer had the strength to fight all this

When I woke up I was in my bed

My body hurt, my face was hurting, and my lips were swollen and bleeding.

I only remembered the boys hitting me and the teacher separating everyone

I also remember my mother's face when she saw me

Dad was disappointed in me

I wanted to see Leon

He would know what to say to me at these times

Despite being hurt, I limped downstairs and asked to go to Leon's house.

Mom left, which made me feel a little better inside

I fought the pain and walked to Leon's house

I rang the doorbell and waited

A tall figure appeared

-"How can I help?" - I looked up and saw the unexpected

What happened in the two weeks I was home?

Leon's parents were there

I asked where Leon was

He looks at me with a serious face, saying that I shouldn't bother.

I sighed and lowered my head, heading back home while kicking the poor rocks along the way.

2 months passed and I never spoke to Leon again

He knew everything that happened to me that terrible day

He apologized and hugged me

That was the last time he hugged me since then.

Tomorrow is my birthday and mom made me invite everyone in my class.

I did as she ordered.

And I invited Leon

Today was the big day, I was excited!

Since mom and dad were fighting, mom is the only one who will stay at the party, I believe.

I helped with the decoration and I decorated my cake myself, it was so beautiful.

And now I'm alone waiting for someone to ring the doorbell

Mom came out and said she was going to invite Dad to my party

Nobody showed up

Much less Leon

Tears came down from my eyes exactly when it was 10 o'clock at night.

My cake was whole

Then the doorbell rings

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY STAR."

I wiped the tears and quickly hugged Leon

I explained to him what happened

And he explained to me what had happened to him

Leon would move

His parents have decided to take care of him, but he will go to another country

Today was your last day

I begged and asked him not to leave

But he didn't do it

Leon hugged me and said goodbye, saying his last words

"Will we ever meet again, Lee?"

"Yes... one day."

"When?"

"When I turn 18, then we can do a lot of things together."

"Okay, can we meet at the same playground as usual?"

"In the same playground as always."

"I love you, Lee."

"I love you too, my little star."

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

Life has never been this difficult since Leon left

Separation from parents, changes, rejection... What a beautiful life

I had few friends, just 2, but college separated us

Life was never wonderful

That promise I made with Leon when I was 8 years old is complete today and I honestly don't want to go to the park.

He promised me and I promised, promises shouldn't be broken, right?

I ran to the park

All the memories were running through my mind

Maybe he doesn't even remember me

All the moments together were the best memories I had

So I arrived at the park

I was late, but I was there

I sat on the bench and waited

Three hours have passed since then

The moon was coming little by little, the sun was waving goodbye behind the mountains

I found myself alone in the park now, waiting for someone who would never come

Leon never kept his promise, that was clear... But I'll still stay here

I know he's somewhere, somewhere far away.

That's one of the worst feelings

I gave up waiting for Leon

"All these years... I waited for you..."

"Are you just my imagination playing tricks?"

"I was so alone, Leon... Why did you leave?"

"It was all a big, painful illusion."

I turned my back and went home.

They were soulmates that could have worked

Leon remembered his promise

He caught the first flight into town

He arrived early, but it was for a good reason, he wanted to see you so much

But it was too soon

Leon waited until 3 o'clock in the afternoon, there was no longer any reason for him to stay there

You had forgotten him, and it hurt.

Leon collected his things and went to the taxi, there was an hour until the next flight back to his city.

He left a letter in the bank, leaving some of his last hope

Fate didn't understand

It was a windy day and in a few seconds, the letter flew away.

You came running to the park

But Leon was already getting into the taxi

Meanwhile, you were waiting for him. Without hope and with a disturbed life

The two went their separate ways

But what if it had happened? What if you had arrived seconds earlier at the park?

And if...

But the past is the past.

They are connected to invisible wires.

No matter how stretched and tangled this thread is, it will never break.

Even if it takes centuries and lives, you will meet again

Can finally join together as one

And like all the stories we heard as a child

Be happy forever.

[darkwing-katy]

The Spider and the Fly Part III

Pairing: Eventual Leland x Reader (sorta? You’ll see what I mean)

Word Count: 4,737

Summary: All you want to do is get through your online courses and keep your best friend from making bad choices in men. But there’s this creepy therapist who is absolutely insisting on you making an appointment with him. Who the hell is this Leland Townsend, and why won’t he leave you alone?!

Part three of seven. Takes place sometime around seasons one and two.

The series is inspired heavily by my favorite poem, “The Spider and the Fly” (1829) by Mary Howitt. This poem is in the public domain.

Tagging: @primosflowergarden; @vi-er

Part One

Part Two

——————————————————————————————————

Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, “Dear friend, what can I do

To prove the warm affection I’ve always felt for you?

I have within my pantry good store of all that’s nice;

I’m sure you’re very welcome—will you please to take a slice?”

You stare up at the brick building in front of you, a scowl etched onto your face. This is ridiculous. Why the hell are you here? Just because of a measly threat?

You flash back to that day in the kitchen, the cheeriness of Leland’s voice as he talked about how easy it’d be to flat-out murder Betty and hide the body. The memory of it makes you shudder. As upbeat as Leland had been, he had left little doubt that he was capable of doing such a thing. You couldn’t risk it…at least, not yet.

But Betty’s leaving this weekend to go to her parents. So all you have to do is fake it through this single appointment, make Leland believe you’ll be back, figure out why he’s so obsessed with you in the first place, and then you can be out of here. Easy enough, right? 

You’d done so much research on him but turned up nothing. He set up his practice a few years ago, but there’s nothing else on Leland Townsend. No court records, no social media, no newspaper articles. It’s like he didn’t exist until a few years ago, and that bothers you in a way that you’re not quite sure how to articulate. Who the fuck is this guy?

The mental image of him licking his blood off of his finger pops into your brain, and you feel yourself flush before you can banish it. We are not attracted to that, you tell yourself. He’s a psychopath and we’re gonna get the hell outta here the second our stupid appointment is over.

You suck in a deep breath, glance down at your green shirt and blue jeans, and head towards the door. Your breath quickens with each step closer the door, and you despise the trepidation that fills your veins with adrenaline. You have your phone ready to record in your pocket, and you’ve got a bottle of pepper spray easily reachable in your other pocket. You’ve timed yourself to see how quickly you can get to it and spritz it right in the bastard’s face if he lunges for you again.

It occurs to you that you’re willingly putting yourself into what could be a very, very dangerous situation, but what else can you do?

Besides, you can’t deny that you’re intrigued to know why he’s so fixated on you, so desperate to have you as a client. 

The interior of the building is white. Very white, almost blindingly so. It makes you feel exposed, naked. Would a painting on the walls really be so bad?

Then again, you suspect that it’s intentional, meant to evoke that feeling that you’re being watched. You wonder if you should’ve worn something more neutral to lessen that feeling. Maybe next time, you think, then shudder. No, there won’t be a next time. Where had that come from?

You’re led down a hallway with glass windows, all of which have blinds hiding their interiors. You stop when you see the brass plaque on the door that says LELAND TOWNSEND. You glower at the name before stepping into the room, your heart racing. Leland isn’t in there; you’re left alone. You glance around. It’s just as white as the rest of the building, save for the grey couch, the grey chairs, and the black desk. Even the carpet is grey and bland. There’s a painting on the wall behind Leland’s desk, an abstract of blue, black, and white with splashes of red that adds to your internal disquiet, though you’d be hard pressed to explain why. In one of the corners of the painting is a strange symbol that you study for a moment before turning back to the rest of the room.

The couch is probably where Leland expects you to sit. Like hell. Then there’s the two chairs that face each other, but which one? They both look the same, so you can’t make a guess as to which one he prefers. 

There’s another option: his desk. It’d be a hell of a power move, wouldn’t it?

You sit in the swivel chair behind his desk and, after a few seconds of consideration, prop up your feet on his desk as well. There’s a closed laptop that you’re tempted to open, but you have no clue when he’s going to appear, and it’s best if you don’t do anything too suspicious. Your palms are sweaty, and you hate how your body is betraying your nerves. You wipe the clammy digits onto your jeans and take in a fortifying breath, counting the beats as you breathe in and out. You will not allow this man to scare you. You are the one who scares, not the other way around. You will not be afraid of Leland; it is Leland who should be afraid of you.

The seconds tick by, then minutes. You don’t allow yourself to think of how long you’ve been waiting—you’ve employed this strategy before. Making people wait to catch them off guard is an old trick, one that has often given you excellent reactions when done to the right people. Instead, you study the space, memorize every detail of it, no matter how pointless it might seem. You make plans for what you’ll do if Leland tries to physically attack you, how you’ll use the sparse furniture to take cover, how you’ll use the lamp to knock him unconscious if you need to. He will not get the best of you.

You also go over the possible ways you can scare him. You have little information, but you’ve made that work before. How many times have you gotten back at Betty’s exes, or Taylor’s, or Marina’s? In college, you were a pro at this, and you’ve only gotten better with practice.

You still jump when the door opens at last, and you mentally chastise yourself for it. Leland walks in, an apologetic look on his face. It falters momentarily when he sees where you’re sitting, and you wonder how he’ll react, but all he does is blinks before striding forward. “(Y/N)!” he greets with a smile. “I’m glad you made it this time!”

You return his smile with one of your own. “Yeah. It’s amazing how well threats work at motivating people to be on time. More people should try that,” you deadpan as you raise your eyebrows at him. 

Leland steps further into the room, the door closing loudly behind him. He eyeballs you in the chair. “That’s my desk,” he comments. 

You flash him a smirk. “I don’t see your name on it,” you reply as you shift so that your legs are pointed at him. It’s not the most comfortable position, but it says what it needs to. You see a flicker of annoyance cross Leland’s face as you fold your hands over your stomach and fix your eyes on him. “Aren’t you gonna sit, Doctor?”

He angles his head at you, considering his options, then he rotates the chair nearest the desk so that he can face you and sits in it. “Whatever works for you,” he mutters, and you feel your smirk widen. He’s not on edge or anything, but you’ve managed to mildly inconvenience him, and you’ll take that as a small win for now. “So…(Y/N)…let’s talk.”

“About what?”

Leland shrugs as he leans back into the couch. “Whatever you want,” he replies.

“Why am I here?”

“Except that.”

You purse your lips at him. “Are you stalking me or something?”

“I just said we’re not talking about that.”

You sit up in the chair in annoyance, moving your feet back to the floor. The chair squeaks with the movement. “Yes, we are,” you insist. “You went through all the trouble of getting me here, so you’re gonna tell me why the hell you care so much.”

Leland scoffs as he looks away from you in derision. “I don’t care about you,” he replies snidely. “I care about what you’ve done, what you’re capable of, but not you.”

“I seem to recall you saying we could do great things together.” You don’t look away from his face. “You were pretty damn adamant on that particular detail.”

His lips come together in a pinched smile as he looks back at you, but he’s not really looking at you as much as he is sneering. “And I maintain that position. But make no mistake, it doesn’t mean I care about you. If you wanna jump off a building or shoot yourself in the head just to spite me, I won’t lose any sleep over it.”

Well, that’s a bit extreme. You hate the guy but that just seems like giving in too easily. You value yourself far too much for that. “Alright. Guess we’re not talking, then, and this is a waste of time.” You don’t rise from the chair, though. If he wants to waste your time, then you’ll waste his by sitting here and saying nothing. This appointment should end at 6, and you’ll get up then. You put your feet back up on the desk, though you’re careful not to knock any of his things over.

Leland allows you to sit in petulant silence for a grand total of one minute and fifteen seconds before he starts again. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Nope,” you reply, popping the ‘p’.

“Why not?”

You don’t deign to answer. He’s goading you, and you’re not gonna fall for it. You look away from him but keep him in your peripheral just in case, your hand lingering near the pocket with the pepper spray.

“Oh, come on, (Y/N). Talk to me. Tell me about yourself, who you are, what you want in life.” He gives you a toothy grin. “Tell me your desires.”

You hate the way he drags out that word, mainly because it once again reminds you of him licking the blood off of his finger. “I desire to get the fuck away from you,” you snap before your traitorous body can blush at the memory. “I desire to leave this place knowing you’re gonna leave me and my friend alone.”

“Come on, there must be something you want to talk about. Something that’s weighing you down, something that’s pissing you off, something that’s making you feel…something.” Leland makes a little motion with his hands.

“I believe I just told you something that I wanted, something that makes me feel something,” you reply, irritated. “I want you far away from me and Betty.”

“Why?”

“You know why!” Dammit, he’s managing to pull the words out of you. You gotta shut up now before he gets anything else. “

“We could talk about Jordan.”

“Uhm, how about fuck no?”

“Ryan? Matthew?” He leans forward. “Brittany?” He raises an eyebrow at your ex-girlfriend’s name, but you have decided that no matter what names he drops, you’re gonna remain impassive. You’re the one with the power here, not Leland. It may be his space, but you can control how you react to him, and if that’s the only thing you can control, then by God, you’re gonna act nonchalant.

He blinks and purses his lips, clearly annoyed that you’re refusing to respond. Good, you think. Maybe he’ll call it quits early.

This time, the silence lasts a little bit longer. Maybe as long as four minutes—Leland seems like he’s content to let you sit, and you’re content to let him marinate in his annoyance. The next time he speaks, he says, “Maybe we should start on something simpler. Find some common ground. Liiiiiike…what’s your favorite scary movie?”

What is this, Scream? you think with some amusement. You’re tempted to respond, but you know that if you do, he’ll just ask you another question. And another, and another, and then the next thing you’d know, you’d be talking up a storm. 

“I’m personally prone to movies with the occult. They can be a little unrealistic at times, but sometimes, they get their stuff right! I mean, just look at Event Horizon! I hate when they try to make horror movies some sort of commentary on morality, though. Look at Saw, for example. Great moments. And what kinda movies do we have nowadays? A Quiet Place. That new M. Night Shyamalan movie.” He sighs. “We’ve forgotten what it means to really scare people, what it means to keep them up all night.”

Okay, this is weird, because you kind of agree with him. Some of the latest scary movies haven’t been meaningfully scary—they’ve been gory, but gore is pointless when it’s used for shock value. But there have been others in recent years that you enjoyed, and you open your mouth to point those films out, but then you catch him watching you, the light reflecting off of his glasses, and you slam your mouth shut.

Dammit, he almost got me there.

Leland looks like he’s waiting for your response, but you bite your tongue to hold back from everything you want to say, and you’re rewarded with a look of disappointment. You wait just long enough for him to look away from you in exasperation before you finally talk.

“What do you want from me?” you try again. “Why are you trying so hard to get to me? I’m not special.”

“No, you’re right. You’re not special at all,” he agrees lackadaisically, and his words are like a stab in the gut. For a therapist, he has no bedside manner at all. Then again, can you really be surprised by that? “I’m…investigating, I guess. Evaluating.” His face twists into a sneer. “Though I have no clue why they’d choose you when there’s much better candidates out there.”

“Who are ‘they’?” you ask before you can stop yourself, and you grimace because you know Leland wanted you to ask that.

He gives you a strange smile. “You’ve been noticed by some very important people, (Y/N). They’re intrigued by you and no matter how much I’ve tried to tell them otherwise, that you’re just a regular ole human, they insisted on this…” he waves his hand at the office. “And I’m not gonna defy them and risk the consequences just ‘cause some stupid little bitch wants to try and make me miserable.”

“You suck as a therapist, dude,” you reply as you cross your arms. “Pretty sure you’re not supposed to refer to clients as bitches.”

“I call it as I see it,” he says with another shrug. His glasses slide down his nose just a hair and you can see the remnants of the cut from your headbutt. The sight makes you smirk without meaning to, and he notices it. “What?”

You shake your head, but the smirk remains steady. “Nothing,” you say. 

Leland gives you a thoughtful look, then reaches up to his nose, his finger lightly tracing the cut. “You know, I think we got off on the wrong foot. This isn’t working.” He stands, and you tense as he takes a step towards you, towards his desk. “Get out of my chair.”

“No.”

He glares down at you. “Get. Out. Of. My. Chair.”

You don’t take your eyes away from him. Your fingers dance over the pepper spray, ready to whip it out and spray him right in those beautiful eyes of his. “Make me.”

He’s closer now, right at the edge of his desk, his knuckles grazing the smooth wooden edge. “Is this really the silly hill you want to die on right now?”

You raise your eyebrows innocently. “Someone’s dying on this hill, and it isn’t gonna be me.”

There’s a flash of amusement on his face before he places his palms flat on the desk and leans down, possibly hoping to convince you to move by invading your personal space. He hasn’t done anything aggressive, but he’s almost close enough that you’re willing to spray him anyways. You just need to egg him on a liiiiiittle bit more. “Do you really think you can take me on?” he asks. The words come out slow, dramatic, a challenge.

You bat your lashes. “Hell yeah,” you reply, and when he inches his face closer, you’re ready. You practiced for a reason, after all, and he needs to learn a lesson about messing with you. You flick the cap off with your hand, suck in a deep breath, and raise the other arm to block your own eyes from any spray-back, and then you hold the trigger down, blasting him with a solid jet of the stuff.

Leland jerks back, but it’s too late—your aim had been pretty true due to his proximity, and his eyes squeeze shut immediately as he lets out a strangled yelp of pain. He gropes at his eyes with one hand while reaching for you with the other, but it’s easy enough to avoid his flailing hand and duck under the desk as he thunks into it. You dive around his legs, giving him a kick in the back of the knee for good measure, which sends him into the table again. The table flips, everything on it sliding off and crashing to the ground, including Leland.

You should make for the door, but you linger, wanting to relish the angry pants coming from him, the rapid floundering as he tries to grab you again. He can’t see you, which only makes it more fun as you tilt or skip away from him. He’s pulled himself back to his feet now, but he can’t still see you at this point. It’s kinda hilarious, in all honesty.

Your throat burns with the taste of the pepper spray, but the Internet had warned you about that, so you’d been wise enough to hold your breath for as long as possible while you got away from Leland. Your reaction is minor compared to his, even if your eyes are stinging and watering as well. At least you can still see. You’re backed against the wall opposite the couch now, the door in easy reach when you’re ready to ditch the scene.

“God! What the hell was that for?!” he yells at you as he spins around in search of you. His face is red and puffy, his eyes are swollen shut and streaming, and his glasses are propped up as he angrily swipes at his face. 

You’d feel a little bad for the guy if he hadn’t, you know, threatened to murder your best friend a week ago. 

Your throat is irritated, even though you’re away from him, and you can’t conceal the cough that’s scratching at your throat. It escapes, and Leland’s head whips towards you. “You little bitch!” he growls, and you actually feel a pinprick of fear at the fury in his voice. “That was extremely fucking uncalled for!”

You shrug, even as you cough again. “Then maybe you should leave me the fuck alone!”

“I can’t!”

You roll your eyes, causing a tear to trickle down your face, but you ignore it. “Can’t or won’t?!”

His mouth is wrenched into a grimace, but he’s facing you, even if he’s not able to look at you. “Alright, so it’s a little bit of both,” he admits, and his honesty is so startling that you snort.

You’re about 90% sure he’s not a threat to you currently, which is the only reason you’re still here. It’s also strange how much the pepper spray doesn’t seem to really bother him. If anything, he seems humored by it. “Well, I don’t give a shit about what your bosses say or whatever. Leave me alone.”

Leland takes a stumbling step towards you. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” you warn, retrieving the pepper spray again. “You can’t see it, but I’ve got more spray and I’m not afraid to use it.”

He freezes. Cocks his head at you. And then he laughs, of all things. “Oh, (Y/N), you’re feisty. That’s fun. I am definitely gonna enjoy breaking you down.” He forces his eyes to open. They’re red and squinty, and there’s still fresh tears dripping down his face. His glasses are off, and he’s cleaning them as best as he can with a microfiber cloth that he produced out of what seems like nowhere. It’s a bit scary to see him still up and moving and so calm. “Starting with your little friend Betty.”

You glare at him. “You stay away from her.”

“Oh, I’m gonna have such a good time with her, too. You know, I think she was kinda into me when we met last week.” Leland’s voice has a mocking tone to it, dangerous and almost…seductive. “She was batting her eyelashes and shoving her breasts in my face every chance she got. No wonder she’s got all those guys coming after her—she’s a hottie ripe for the picking, if you know what I mean.” 

The hairs on the back of your neck rise, but you’re not focused on that right now. It’s hard to be scared when you’re angry. “Don’t fucking touch her,” you hiss.

“I’m gonna seduce her just to piss you off, and then after we’ve had wild sex—‘cause you just know she’s into that kinda stuff—I’m gonna strangle her in her sleep and leave her naked body in the bed for you to discover in the morning.”

You’re seeing red now. How dare he talk about her like that—about sleeping with her and murdering her—how darehe! You lunge at him, forgetting the spray is still in your hands, but he’s ready—he grabs you by the shoulders and slams you up against the wall before you can remember the spray even exists. You cry out as your back and head hit the wall with enough force to make you dizzy. Your hand struggles to get to the nozzle again, and he uses one arm to pin you in place while the other grabs your wrist and twists it until you drop the canister. Then he twists it a little more until you cry out again. “I’m only gonna say this once, (Y/N),” he says, his voice low and menacing. “You’re not in charge here—I am, and you’d better realize it if you want your friend to stay alive.”

“Fuck you,” you spit back at him. You try to shove yourself at him in a poor attempt to knock him off-balance, but he just chuckles.

Your ears are still ringing from the way your head slammed into the wall. You fight the pain, but he’s won and he fucking knows it. “You know, usually this kinda thing is a turn on for me, but right now, it’s just plain irritating.”

That bastard, you manage to think through the haze of agony. Your face is hot with embarrassment. You want nothing more than to punch him, slap him, bite him, but you’re stuck. “What the fuck do you want?” you snarl.

“Cooperation,” Leland purrs. “I want your cooperation.”

You want him off of you, but he’s bigger and he’s still pinning you in place. “Let me go.”

“Are you gonna try to hit me?”

“No,” you lie.

Leland scoffs. “Make me believe it.”

You gather everything you have, using pain and rage as fuel. “I won’t try to hit you,” you say through gritted teeth.

Leland squints at you, then takes his weight off of you. You don’t give him a moment to react before you’re swinging at him, your fingers curved to scratch his cheeks. All of that agony, all of that fury propels your hand forward, but he must’ve sensed that you were lying because he side-steps your hand and you stumble forward. He spins, one hand on your shoulder and the other on the small of your back. In a frustratingly fluid movement, he shoves you and sticks out a foot at the same time, sending you crashing to the floor. “Fuck!” you exclaim as your forehead smashes into the edge of the couch, winding a fresh wave of pain across your head.

You roll yourself over to fix your eyes on Leland, who’s now towering above you and chortling. “That’s more like it!” he says with a wide grin.

You sit there in a heap on the floor, staring up at him, flabbergasted and scared. Good God, why the hell is he laughing?

Unexpectedly, he extends his hand to you. You’re not sure if it’s because you’ve got a concussion or you’re afraid of what he might do if you reject it, so you reach up and let Leland pull you up. Your forehead is gonna have a bruise later, your ears are still ringing, but he looks just as bad—if not worse, after tumbling into his own desk. His face is still red, though it’s fading fast, and while his eyes are still puffy, they’re focused on you with enough intensity to make you squirm.

“How come you never fought off any of the exes like that, huh?”

“What?” you ask dumbly.

Leland shrugs like you didn’t just try to attack him. “You never attacked any of the guys like this. You used other methods instead. How come?”

“Uhm.” You don’t know what to say. You two just had a scuffle and now he’s chatting amicably, like the fight put him in a better mood? “Because it’s not as fun?” It’s the only answer that comes to mind right now.

“You’re gonna tell me that none of that was fun?” He waggles an eyebrow and you’re even more confused now than you were five seconds ago. “You wanna tell me that you didn’t enjoy any of that? You didn’t like lying to me and then lunging at me? You didn’t like letting that anger, that temper of yours take over?”

You feel your forehead scrunch. It hurts, provoking a grimace from you. “I mean…no?” But that’s not entirely true, is it? You did enjoy it. You liked striking out at him, liked the feeling of submitting to your rage and letting it take hold of your body. It was almost freeing. Usually, you channeled your anger into the psychological attacks, but this physicality was…satisfying in a completely different way.

“Oh, come on, don’t lie to me.” His face is more pink than red, and he doesn’t seem bothered by the residual pepper spray at all anymore. “This is a safe space, after all. You can tell me how it really made you feel.”

“I—,” but you’re hit by a wave of embarrassment and shame. This was not how you worked at all. Everything that had just happened was a direct result of him goading you, nothing more than that. You weren’t a physically violent person. “It’s not my style,” you say instead.

God, your head hurts. 

“Stop worrying about how you’re supposed to feel and start acknowledging how you really feel,” Leland says, and there’s just something about the way he says it that chips at your resolve.

You want to tell him the truth, tell him how much you liked it. How much you wanted to watch him bleed again. How much you wanted to bite his hand until you broke the skin and then lick the blood off of him and—wait, what? Where the fuck did that come from? you wonder. Can concussions alter personalities?

“Tell me, (Y/N). How do you feel right now?”

“I feel like…” the words are slow to come out. You don’t want to admit it even though you do. “I feel like hitting you again,” you say at last. It’s not the whole truth, but it’s the closest you’re willing to say for now.

Leland’s face cracks into an eerie grin. “Good.” He looks behind him, his eyes no longer streaming, then sits down in the chair next to him and motions for you to sit on the couch. Stunned, you do so, unsure of what else you can do. “Let’s talk about that some more.”

“Oh, no, no,” said the little Fly, “kind sir, that cannot be!

I’ve heard what’s in your pantry and I do not wish to see.”

Part Four

[the-demons-within]

Klance angst week: Wednesday

Trigger warning: suicide, alcohol, depression.

(L)

"HEY, watch it," Lance spat as Keith and him walked past each other, bumbing shoulders. Keith continued forward with a mumbled apology.

"God, that guy gets on my nerves," he thought to himself, "It's like he cares about nothing."

"Hey Lance!" Hunk called from down the corridor, lifting Lance's spirits ever so slightly. "I heard that shiro will be putting us through some sword fighting tests later, we will have partners, so let's hope we get paired!"

"Oh yeah, 100% if not, I will PERSONALLY put in a complaint," Lance joked

"Why am I not surprised?" Hunk sighed, rolling his eyes. Continiuing walking, they headed towards swords practice.

"Okay, everyone! Today, you will be paired with one of your comrades to practice sword fighting. " Shiro walked over to the wall and pulled down a large whiteboard. There, each of the pairs has been pre-chosen. Hunk was paired with Pidge, and Shiro would practice with Allura and Lance...

"Ohh fuck..." Lance wined. Of course he was paired with Keith of all people. " Shiroo-"

"And no we are not switching" shiro blatantly expressed. Lance looked over to Keith who looked far to happy compared to normal.

"Hi Lance," Keith said, walking over. Lance decided that if he had to deal with Keith, he had better at least pretend to enjoy it, so he put on a fake smile.

"Hey Keith," he responded.

"Okay, everyone, please grab one of the swords from the wall and begin with some simple menouvers." Keith and Lance walked over together grabbing one of the swords each and getting a feel for the right balance. Claiming a spot on the court, the began to duel, swords flying through the air. At the start, Keith was winning every duel they had, every match played, but over time, Lance noticed the determination and confidence that Keith had brought to the table slowly draining. He wasn't losing, so what was happening? Lost in thought, he let his guard down and let Keith win.

"You're pretty good! You know that?" Lance complimented. Instead of a reply, Keith leveled his sword in line with Lance's throat.

"Oh please, don't act like we are so friendly, I know how badly you want to slit my neck, and you also know how easy it is for me to slit yours" Lance stood in shocked silence. Staring at Keith until he lowered his sword. "I need to take a break" he said finally.

"Me too, I'll go with you" Lance offered. He thought that perhaps a flicker of panic crossed Keith's features, but it was cut down immediately. Keith began walking to his room, and Lance followed behind, making his way to his own room

(Ghost in the corner pov)

Keith slipped through his doorway and into his room. His confidence was draining drastically. He began to rummage through his cabinets until he found what he needed, "Yes, thank god," he muttered before taking a large swig of his drink straight from the bottle. So what if the alcohol burned the back of his throat? He felt better after that. That's the point. He was tired, annoyed, frankly quite depressed and hated life. Nothing could fix that. But the alcohol? It numbed it, and it made him happier. He finished the bottle in one sitting. The back of his throat was still burning, and he was becoming increasingly irritated. It wasn't working like normal. He wanted relief. "I just need more," he whispered before sorting his way to the back of the shelf again, where he had hidden the bottles of alcohol and vodka. He sat with his back against the cabinet, taking large gulps of his second bottle.

"Hey Keith?" Lance said, opening the door. His eyes fell upon Keith, on the floor next to a cabinet of alcohol, an empty bottle already next to him, and the one he was drinking almost half gone. This was bad. It had only been 5 minutes, and Keith had finished an entire bottle. Keith knew that wasn't normal. Most people couldn't finish a bottle in 10 minutes, but 5? He was screwed, Lance, that bitch, had walked in and seen. Keith drank another gulp before speaking to the stunned Lance.

"Well? What do you want?" Keith pondered. Lance seemed to snap out of his shock and closed the door behind him.

"Are you crazy! That is so unhealthy, you know that!" Lance claimed. Keith took another slow sip from the bottle, finishing it off.

Two 1-letre bottles of vodka in 7 minutes.

"Lookk, dude, I'm finee," Keith slurred, trying to console Lance to a degree, but instead making him more anxious. Keith leaned back, grabbing 2 more bottles, it was becoming addictive, the burn, the re-occurring numbness, but it still wasn't all gone, the pain was still there, it was so painful and he just wanted it gone.

The next bottle popped open, and Keith took another large swig.

"Keith," Lance cautioned. He may not like Keith, but he wouldn't let a teammate die. "You need to stop this. That is way too much. You could die!" But that only seemed to drive Keith onward. He took some more gulps of his beverage, and Lance couldn't do anything. He left the room abruptly.

"Finally," Keith sighed. Lance was gone, and he could go numb.

12 and a half minutes, the 4th bottle was being opened.

All he wanted was to feel nothing, and this was the only way he knew. He wanted the numbness, the cold, the empty. Perhaps too much.

"Look - I can't stop him, I don't know how -" Lance had paused in the doorway and started at the scene in front of him. Shiro pushed past Lance and knelt beside Keith. Completely limp, with a mostly finished bottle of vodka and 3 empty bottles next to him...

was Keith.

[acourtofthought]

SPRING IS GOING TO BE A BIG DEAL FOR BOTH ELAIN AND LUCIEN

She would have marveled—likely wept—at the gardens I’d become so accustomed to, at the flowers in perpetual bloom at the Spring Court.

“I’m going with you,” he said again, face splattered with blood as bright as his hair. “I’m getting my mate back.”

“If he got Elain away, back to Spring or wherever … do you believe, deep down, that he wouldn’t sell what he knows? Either for gain, or to ensure she stays safe?”

Elain would love this place. But Elain … The Spring Court had been made for someone like her. Too bad her sister refused to see her. Nesta would have told Elain to visit this place.

I am the first one the others look to—I set the example.

I did my duty to the court. I went of my own free will. And we completed the Rite.”

"liason to Tamlin"

“No. But we need to summon Lucien,” Azriel said, just a shade tightly, as if he didn’t like it one bit. “We need to tell him the news, and permanently station him at the Spring Court to contain any damage and to be our eyes and ears.”

Elain cut her a look. “This house has needed a woman’s touch for years.” / helping other residents of Velaris restore their own destroyed gardens.

But it was the vines—the thorns—that had made it unlivable. My old bedroom had been overrun with them. They’d curved and slithered over the walls, entwined themselves amongst the debris. As if they’d crawled off the trellises beneath my windows, as if a hundred years had passed and not months.

It was Spring, and yet it wasn’t. It was not the land I had once roamed in centuries past, or even visited almost a year ago.

The pink roses that had once climbed the pale stone walls of the sweeping manor house were nothing but tangled webs of thorns. The fountains had gone dry, the hedges untrimmed and shapeless.

The house itself had looked better the day after Amarantha’s cronies had trashed it.

Though the great oak doors were undeniably worse for wear. Deep, long claw marks had been slashed down them.

The halls were dim, the embroidered curtains drawn. A tomb. This place was a tomb.

No whisper of sound behind him. On any acre of this estate. Not even a note of birdsong.

Tamlin didn’t speak, didn’t offer any explanations for the vacant house. For the rooms we passed, some of the carved doors cracked open enough for me to behold the destruction inside. Shattered furniture, shredded paintings, cracked walls.

“My sister Elain can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go.” Before I could object, he said, “You ruined any chance I have of going back to Spring. Not to Tamlin, but to the court beyond his house. Everyone either still believes the lies you spun or they believe me complicit in your deceit

"he does not see or care for the neglect he passes, the lawlessness, the vulnerability. Even his manor has fallen into disrepair, half-eaten by thorns, though rumors fly that he himself destroyed it.”

WHY IS SPRING IMPORTANT?

“Because Tamlin’s territory is the only one that borders the human lands. I’d think that anyone looking to expand would have to go through the Spring Court first. Or at least obtain his permission.”

“What’s this I hear about you not enforcing your borders?”. “Do you see any sentries around to do it?”

And though I reminded myself of the wall, of the peace we needed

“she was as disturbed as I was to learn that your borders are not as enforced as we’d hoped.”. “With the wall gone, I’d need an army to watch them.” “That can be arranged.” A soft snarl rumbled from Tamlin, and a hint of claws gleamed at his knuckles. “I’m not letting your ilk onto my lands.”

“You will need Tamlin as an ally before the dust has settled. Tread carefully.”

“I would suggest reminding Beron that territory expansion is not on the table. For any court.”. “Then I would suggest to you, High Lord, that you speak to your dear friend Tamlin about it.”

“Why does your father want to start a war so badly?” “Why does anyone go to war?” Eris reached out a long, slender hand, letting the falling petals gather there. “Why does Vallahan not sign the treaty? The borders of this new world have not yet been set.”

“Beron doesn’t have the military strength to control the Autumn Court and a territory on the continent,”. “Who says he wants land on the continent?” He surveyed the orchard—as if to make a point. “Beron knows another war that pits Fae against Fae would be catastrophic. Many of us would be wiped out entirely. Especially …” Rhys tilted his head back to take in the apple blossoms. “Especially those of us who are weakened. And when the dust settles, there would be at least one court left vacant, its lands bare for the taking.”

THE HUMAN LANDS WILL BE A BIG DEAL FOR ELAIN AND LUCIEN:

"Will the bird of fire come to sit in the trees and watch me?”

I wondered if the elder lord might be the one who could actually be reasoned with. Especially as Graysen said to Elain “Take that ring off.” Elain’s fingers curved into a fist. “No.” Ugly. This was about to get ugly in the worst way— “Take. It. Off.” It was Nolan’s turn to murmur a warning to his son. Graysen ignored him. Elain did not move. “Take it off! ” The roared words barked over the stones. “That’s enough,” Rhys said, his voice lethally calm. “The lady keeps the ring, if she wants it.

Like the rest of us, Elain’s recovery was ongoing.

No, she tended to her gardens here, silently mourning her lost human life. Mourning Graysen.

“But remember that they were engaged. Give her time to accept it.”

With no queen ever having been appointed to the slice of territory at the base of Prythian, only a council of wealthy lords and merchants, Jurian had somehow stepped in to lead. Using Graysen’s family estate as his seat of command.

"Elain showed some teeth, I wasn't expecting that." Or what she'd said about her lingering trauma.

But the war had impacted us all, and with the rebuilding, with the human territories crawling out to meet us, with other Fae kingdoms looking toward a wall-less world and wondering what shit they could get away with …

And with the wall gone, who knows what other Fae territories might make a grab for human lands?”

We need the humans in other territories to trust us, if we can ever hope to achieve lasting peace.”

“Send Lucien, then. As our human emissary.”

“He’s keeping everything running. I think he’d have been crowned king by now if it wasn’t for Vassa.”

“I’m not staying with them. The manor is ours.”

“He’s as fine a prick as any I’ve ever encountered.”. Lucien had encountered him, I realized. Somehow, in living with Jurian and Vassa at that manor, he’d run into Elain’s former betrothed. And managed to leave the human lord breathing.

“Even with Elain here, he’s become close with Jurian and Vassa. He’s voluntarily living with them these days, and not just as an emissary. As their friend.”

“He’s spent months helping them sort out the politics of who rules Prythian’s slice of the human lands,”

the male was somehow able to move between his three roles—an emissary for the Night Court, ally to Jurian and Vassa, and liaison to Tamlin—

THE CONTINENT WILL BE A BIG DEAL FOR BOTH ELAIN AND LUCIEN:

Elain shifted her face toward him. Another blink. “They sold her—to … to some darkness, to some … sorcerer-lord …” She shook her head. “I can never see him. What he is. There is an onyx box that he possesses, more vital than anything … save for them. The girls. He keeps other girls—others so like her—but she … By day, she is one form, by night, human again.”

“Everyone thinks she’s dead.” Elain kept walking. “But she’s not. Only—different. Changed. As I was.” (the golden queen?)

I’d never seen such spell work. I’d sent my power over her, Helion too, hunting for any possible threads to unbind it. I found none. It was as if the curse was woven into her very blood.

But Vassa’s freedom would end. Lucien had said as much months ago. She would have to return to the lake, to the sorcerer-lord who kept her prisoner, sold to him by the very queens who had again gathered in their joint castle.

He should have asked someone before coming here how much time remained before Vassa would be forced to return to the continent—to the sorcerer-lord at a remote lake who held her leash, and had allowed her to leave only temporarily, as part of a bargain Feyre’s father had struck. (Elain's father too)

My father would go straight to Briallyn—and Koschei, I suppose—and then go to the other discontent territories, and you would be wiped off the proverbial map. Perhaps literally, since the Night Court would be divvied up between the other territories if Rhysand and Feyre die without an heir.” (the NC now has an heir however there are other courts who do not, Spring and Helion does not realize he has one).

Koschei is no mere sorcerer. He’s confined to the lake only due to an ancient spell. Because he was outsmarted once. Everything he does is to free himself.”

Koschei said, “Tell my Vassa I’m waiting.”

Lucien stared out the window—as if he could see the lake across a sea and a continent. As if he were setting his target.

Elain had always wanted to visit the continent to study the tulips and other famed flowers, but her imagination had stretched no further. Feyre had talked once about the glorious art in the continent’s museums and private estates. But that was all the western edge of it. Beyond that, the continent was vast. And to the south, another continent sprawled. Would she have gone?

Day and Autumn may also play a role in Elucien's story (as well as the Prison) simply because of Lucien's connection to Helion & the Pegasus, Eris, Beron and the LoA.

Also, with the idea of an Elucien arranged marriage as a possibility, do you think Rhys will suggest it to Elain, basically using her as their Night Court "spy" to gather information on what Lucien knows and what his plans for that information are? They've already stopped completely trusting his reports because they think there may be some unintentional bias involved and with Elain still showing no interest in the bond, they might feel she's no longer their leverage against Lucien -

do you believe, deep down, that he wouldn’t sell what he knows? Either for gain, or to ensure she stays safe?”

“I trust in the fact that we currently have possession of the one thing he wants above all else. And as long as that remains, he’ll try to stay on our good side. But if that changes …

There was a reason he had that fox mask, you know.”

Seems like Lucien can still play the fox.

“Lucien can’t be entirely trusted anymore.”

Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was a part of this court—and would do whatever was needed.

“I think she’s got you beat for secret-keeping.”

She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth (side note, I don't think Elain has been taking actual lessons but I think she's observant and picks up on things).

"Don't forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but involves getting ones hands dirty along the way"

Silver Flames makes many mentions of why marriages are of importance in the political world yet nothing came of it in Nesta's story so that still leaves Elain....

She will be an asset on the marriage market for us one day, if that beauty holds, but it will be our own maneuverings, Nesta, not hers, (Nesta married for love but what if it turns out ELAIN is the one who marries for political schemes).

Feyre had always been that way: completely uninterested in the rules that governed their lives, uninterested in becoming a true lady who would help advance their family’s fortunes through an advantageous marriage.

From the shadows in his eyes, Cassian knew something more lay beneath the rash offer. Something that even Az’s spies hadn’t picked up on at the Autumn Court. (is it possible a marriage alliance between courts will somehow help in defeating Beron? Something Lucien might be the one to do in his book?).

"but yes, Rhysand. You want armies against Briallyn and my father, you’ll have them. I couldn’t very well let my wife’s sister go into battle unaided, could I?” (<- a marriage alliance between a male of one court, possibly one who has connections with the humans and Spring and a female of the NC = more soldiers for the upcoming war). .

[dioles-writes]

•OC FICLET•

Masterlist | Characters: Felix (he/him), Della (she/her), Jimbo (he/him), Jambo (he/him), Cadi (she/her), Letha (she/her), Ovia (she/her), Winola (she/her)

Characters in blue belong to @jiphenn

“Della?”

Felix stood outside Della’s bedroom door, staring up at the ceiling and tapping his fingers against his slacks.

“Uh, yeah?” Della’s voice came after an excruciatingly long minute, the sound of something shuffling around coming from the other side. She didn’t dare open up the door, instead just quietly answering.

“Um,” He cleared his throat, feeling very awkward all of a sudden. “Do you want to play tennis with Jimbo, Jambo and me?”

The door instantly swung open, slamming against the wall with a bang. Della stood there, face bright with excitement, crimson-red eyes lit up.

“Really?” She exclaimed.

He nodded slowly, to which she grabbed onto his hand, practically flying down the stairs and outside, dragging him along.

They burst out the back door, and all the siblings looked up in surprise, Jimbo and Jambo abandoning their tennis game to run up to Della and Felix, with Cadi, Letha, and Ovia trailing not far behind, leaving Winola at her spot in the shade.

“I thought mom said you weren’t allowed out.”

“It’s only for a little bit!” Della said, bouncing on her toes in enthusiasm, not paying Jambo’s concerns any attention.

“But what if you get hurt?”

“I’ll be fiiine.” Della waved away Jimbo and Jambo, giving them a reassuring smile.

Felix eyed her, furrowing his eyebrows. “Hurt?” He repeated, slight worry setting in now. Akali hadn’t warned him about anything to do with Della - or any of his other siblings, for that matter. He had to admit that Della was the strangest out of the six, staying locked up in her room while her younger siblings played and roamed freely through the house, but it was nothing that concerned him. Or, nothing that had concerned him. “You’ll get hurt if you stay out here?”

“No!” Della grabbed Jimbo’s discarded tennis racket, not meeting his eyes. “Now hurry up so we can play!”

Felix picked up a racket reluctantly, giving her a look. “You’re sure?”

Della spun the racket around, nodding eagerly. He stepped onto the court, grabbing a ball, a lingering sense of dread hanging in the air. “You can start.” She grinned at him, looking nothing but overjoyed to finally be out of her room and playing with her siblings.

Felix paused for a moment, hesitant. Something about this felt so… wrong. He couldn’t place what, but he had a horrible feeling about this game, about Della. He tried to push away his doubts and worries, tried to brush off the weird feeling he was getting.

It was just a game of tennis. Nothing that bad could happen with just one game.

[1indigoisles]

Chapter 2 - Excerpt 1

Sorry it was so late!

Jolene and Rowan weren’t there the next day at school, and I could not help but worry, even though I had not known them very long.

Jolene Frost had, in all the time that I knew her, struck me as the kind of girl who would spontaneously accept two tickets to Mars without even bothering to check if a ticket back to earth was included or not.

Rowan Frost, on the other hand, was the kind of guy who would agree to go with Jolene just because he didn’t want her to die alone.

That being said, they could be anywhere and could have done anything, at any given point of time.

Or maybe they were just stuck with the flu; it was hard to tell.

It was gym class, and I was failing miserably at playing dodge ball.

Obviously.

I mean, firstly, who would ever invent a sport that required one poor team to dodge oncoming, never-ending ball-attacks from a horde of people with murder hand-signed in their every throw? Secondly, couldn’t we have done something more, I don’t know, survivable? Like yoga, or some warm-up exercises? Even volleyball would’ve been better. And I am not sharing the details of my history with volleyball, so you know it’s bad.

A cherry-red ball flew in my direction as I awkwardly stood towards the side of the wooden-floored court, minding my own business, and staring at the edgy sides of the tiles on the floor. I looked up, and immediately scrambled away before the blood-coloured devil could cause severe damage to my liver. I imagine I looked like a dying fish fresh out of the water when I did so. I then jogged at least six feet from my orginal position, where the ball had almost caused my untimely demise.

And when another spherical shaped hell-denizen came flying at my face, I would be forced to run for it again, with Coach Anderson shouting at us to ‘suck it up and run it down’. And so the cycle goes on, until, of course, the ball finally hits me.

One such clumsy attempt got me crashing into Desiree, one of the sympathic girls in my class I’d befriended earlier that day. You could pinpoint her easily because of her dark skin and striking blue eyes. She was about two heads shorter than me, had long black hair, and wore clothes so loose they looked like they could fall off of her any minute now. Her hair and eyes had seemed very vaguely familiar.

“Careful,” she called as we both almost stumbled and fell. Her voice had a strangely husky undertone to it.

“This is an idiotic sport,” I declared.

Desiree grimaced as she dusted her clothes. “Dangerous, more like,” she said, as she expertly dodged another attack.

“You seem to be good at it,” I pointed out obviously.

“Three years of putting up with it will do that to you,” she smiled.

“Maybe we could pretend to be the throwers...” I suggested.

But I had no more room to think, because everything that happened after that happened in rapid succession.

Somebody had, for reasons that I did not fully understand, lost their presence of mind and had thrown the ball high into the air – twenty-five feet as far as I could tell – without any telling as to where it would land.

And, just as luck would have it, the ball fell smack on my head, hard.

The impact itself was not anything that could cause real damage; the ball was made of soft, rubbery material. It was just the surprise of it that sent me to the ground, head banging against the nearby wall, and elbow scraping harshly on the sharp edge of a slim wooden tile.

The entire class immediately surrounded me with the curiosity that an animal-loving person would bestow on a wild rabbit. Coach Anderson bumbled forward, his face as pink as fresh meat, his black coach’s whistle swinging wildly about his person.

“How are you doing there, boy?” he half-shouted, as though worried my ears had been damaged as well.

I attempted to get up with as much grace as I could, my elbow tingling, and said in what I thought was a confident voice, “I’m fine, sir.”

“But you’re bleeding,” pointed out a somewhat distraught Desiree; she’d been standing closest to me when I fell, and seemed to be the only one concerned about whether I had injured myself or not.

She was staring at my elbow, where, sure enough, a thin red line travelled its way across, a drop of scarlet threatening to drip.

I hastily covered the wound, so that the blood wouldn’t spill. “Yeah, sorry,” I said.

Desiree looked at me as thought I’d gone mad. “Kenneth,” she said slowly, as though I were a five-year-old being taught a hard life lesson, “I am going to take you to the infirmary now, okay? You know, the place where your wounds get treated and you don’t apologise for acquiring them in the first place?”

I shrugged, unable to come up with anything to say. My head hurt, although that was ebbing, and the cut on my elbow was finally coming to me in a sharp, pin-prick sort of pain that was almost like a burn.

So I let Desiree drag me out of the crowd and to the infirmary.

***********************

“I can still walk, you know,” I informed Desiree as she continued to coo over me in the medicine-smelling infirmary.

The nurse, for reasons that I did not fully understand, was not present by the time we had gotten there, so Desiree attempted to administer my wounds herself, all the while showering assurances that it would be fine, she knew exactly what to do, she’d done this dozens of times for her sister, and I shouldn’t worry, yes?

She gave me an ice-pack that was almost too cold for my head, cleaned the cut on my elbow, applied antiseptic cream and lightly bandaged it, all as if it were something she was born to do.

She was now rifling through the white medicine cabinet. When she reemerged, she held a mischievous toffee in her hand and gave it to me, turning around sharply and making her school ID swing wildly around her neck.

I took the toffee and slipped it into my pocket.

“Wise choice,” she commented, as she held her ID in place.

And as I looked at the name on the card, I saw something there that made me realise; I had never really asked for Desiree's last name.

Or ever really wondered why she’d looked familiar.

Or ever really thought about how everywhere I went, I seemed to find at least something related to this one person.

Because, even though I’d just gotten a glimpse, I could see the name on the ID-card read Desiree Raynott.

Taglist: @mayaheronthorn, @jeahreading, @fantasyquinn, @damn-this-transgirl-hella-gay Ich liebe dich!

[adamwatchesmovies]

3 Ninjas (1992)

Take The Karate Kid and Home Alone. Blend them together. Now, bash the results in the head a dozen times to properly reduce its I.Q. Now you've got 3 Ninjas. This martial arts action comedy has no stakes, flat characters and a sense of humor that might entertain the littlest children but will drive every adults in the audience insane.

Every year, twelve-year-old Samuel “Rocky” (Michael Treanor), eleven-year-old Jeffrey “Colt” (Max Elliott Slade) and eight-year-old Michael “Tum-Tum” Douglas (Chad Power) visit their grandfather (Victor Wong) so he can train them in the art of ninjutsu. When the boy’s father, Sam (Alan McRae), runs afoul of crime lord Hugo Snyder (Rand Kingsley), the three pint-sized ninjas become targets but Snyder has no idea what he’s getting into.

It took me a while to realize Grandpa Mori Tanaka was not played by Pat Morita. I just thought his face might’ve changed a bit in the eight years since The Karate Kid. I was fooled. The film’s target audience would’ve been too. What makes them different? Aside from the 1984 film being all about the buildup to the big tournament and this wannabee starting with the three kids already fully-trained? The hijinks. This movie is all about the hijinks; the kind who require the adults involved to be so stupid they would’ve all starved to death. At one point, the three kidnappers Snyder's sent after the tiny ninjas are locked into the same room as just one of their targets and they fail to overcome him. It’s dark, but come on. How are we supposed to feel any tension when the kids effortlessly defeat the villains after them?

I want to throw extra tomatoes (or ninja stars, whichever hurts more) at writers Kenny Kim and Edward Emanuel. In one scene, Rocky and Colt go up against two schoolyard bullies who’ve stolen their neighbor Emily’s bike. They agree to settle things with a game of basketball. If Rocky and Colt win, the bullies will return the bike. If the bullies win, our heroes are humiliated in front of the whole school and have to forfeit their wheels as well. It shouldn’t even be any kind of contest. When Colt and Rocky get the ball, they easily score baskets from their side of the court and make dunks without any effort. They’re practically flying through the air like superheroes. They score nine baskets in a row while the entire schoolyard explodes in cheers. Except they spotted the bullies nine points and one false move later, they’ve lost everything. It’ll make you so angry you’ll want to tear the TV off the wall and throw it out the window. So what if the bullies won “fair and square”? They scored ONE POINT. Their adversaries scored NINE! The miniature thugs should be rushing towards the bathroom to change their underwear, not celebrating. The Douglas brother should be legends whose reputation would have all the female teachers trying to seduce them. It’s bullshit of the purest form.

Everything in 3 Ninjas is so preposterous it actually becomes hilarious for a while. Unintentionally hilarious but I won’t complain about being entertained. Unfortunately, the movie hears you laughing and then switches mode, becoming a straight-up "comedy". Oh, the fat kid is eating again. He’s ALWAYS eating. because he’s fat. Get it? Fat kids get fat because they’re always eating! The three Wayne’s World wannabees sent to their house all drink laxatives. Can you guess what’s next? Even the entertaining “spot the stunt double” game you’ll be playing whenever grandpa comes around can't make up for a comedy that isn't funny. The international version lasts 96 minutes and feels like 96 kicks to the head.

Most of 3 Ninjas is so forgettable and poorly written I’ll likely forget about it, leaving me with only memories of the funniest parts of the film. There’s a scene where a bully rides in all proud and tough-looking while riding a pink girl’s bike. I dare you not to burst out laughing. The best thing I can say about this movie by Jon Turteltaub (who made a lot of bad Disney Movies, along with The Meg and While You Were Sleeping) is that while I hated it, I’m also not upset to have seen it. Hopefully I can say the same about the sequels… (International Version, September 10, 2021)

[bookish-whore]

Hostile

Azriel x Reader

Words: 5.5k

Warnings: canon typical violence, extreme violence, torture, discussions of SA, misogyny, major blood loss, emotional abuse, trauma. If any of these topics are triggering to you, please do not engage with this work. I put a ** before and after the graphic scenes if you want to skip them.

A/N: Based on this request, I took a few liberties with the plotline, and it ended up a little (okay a lot) longer than I anticipated (oops my bad). As always my requests are open! <3

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“You two need to calm down”  

“Are you kidding me Rhys” I said, gesturing to Azriel in the corner of the room “I can’t work with him. We can’t stand to be in the same room together for longer than 20 minutes before all hell breaks loose and you think it’s a wise decision to send us on a reconnaissance mission for a week alone together?!”

“I hate to agree with my mate-”

“DON’T YOU EVER CALL ME THAT” I scream over him, turning my body to pounce on him when Rhys grabs me around the waist, hauling me to the other side of the room. I am kicking out my legs and flailing my arms trying to get out of his grip while Azriel leans against the wall, that stupid smile on his face. “Wipe that goddamn smirk off your face, before I do it for you” I yell at him.

“I would love to see you try” he points to his cheek, further taunting me.

“Az, come on is that really necessary?” Rhysand interjects

“Rhys- you- need- to- let- me- go- now-” I say between clenched teeth forcing out the words with each breath.

“There’s no negotiating about this. Consider it a direct order from your High Lord and Lady. You WILL go on this mission, you WILL get along, you WILL NOT kill each other, and you WILL get me the information I need or so help me you will face the consequences” as he spoke, we both went silent. From the tone of his voice, he was no longer Rhys, He was radiating dark power, the dark power of the High Lord of the Night Court and as his sworn Spymasters we were forced to obey.

We both mumbled our acceptances, and he went over the plans with us. In two days, we would be leaving to gather information on Ironcrest, it was further north from Windhaven and was considered one of the more brutal of the war-camps. Rhys had received reports of wing clipping, torture, and sexual violence against females within the borders of the camp and was sending us to confirm. Rhys would winnow us as far north as he could and Azriel would fly us the remainder of the way so we could remain undetected. While we were there, we would also be collecting information about who was spreading rumors and attempting to form a rebellion against Rhys and Cassian. There were increased reports of someone encouraging animosity by blaming Rhys for the number of Illyrians that were killed in the war with Hybern and others discrediting Cassian because of his birth status. After hours of strategizing, we called it a night and went our separate ways.

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

The next day proved to be uneventful. I got up before dawn to train, ate breakfast and began preparing my gear, getting my clothing ready, checking my weapons, sharpening my knives. All the essentials. Rhysand came by my room to go over some other details about the mission, he particularly wanted me to avoid Kallon by all means, he was the son of the lord of Ironcrest and was known for violent sadistic behavior. Kallon had also made his dislike for Rhysand and his methods extremely clear. He planted the image of Kallon’s face in my mind using his daemati gifts, so I knew what to look out for. The high lord also reminded me of the importance of the mission and gave me strict orders not to fight with Azriel. Once he left, I made my way downstairs for dinner; thankfully, it was just Cassian and Nesta tonight. I quickly ate and made my way upstairs because Azriel and I would be leaving at first light and I needed my rest, considering I would be in the wilderness for the next week.

I woke up well before dawn. I wanted to take a nice long bath and even though a week wasn’t that long I enjoyed the small comforts of home, like hot water. I filled the tub with scalding hot water and a variety of my favorite oils before lowering myself into it. I made sure to add extra lavender because it is meant to have a calming effect and cauldron knows I’ll need that if I’m going to be stuck with Azriel for seven days. I took my time washing my body and thoroughly washing my hair. Once I was satisfied, I climbed out of the tub putting on a dressing gown and combing through my wet hair pulling it into two tight braids against my head. I made my way to my closet stretching out my limbs before putting on my leathers and boots. I strapped my sword to my back, attached my dagger to my thigh, grabbed my bag and headed downstairs for a quick breakfast before leaving.

When I got to the dining room, I found that Azriel was already there finishing a cup of tea while he thumbed through the papers in front of him. I took my place across from him and grabbed a muffin and made myself a cup of coffee. We sat in comfortable silence until Rhys showed up.

“You two ready to go?” the high lord asked

We both agreed, collecting our things including a pack that the house prepared with rationed food and water and the high lord winnowed us north. The first thing I noticed was that it was cold, and I was thankful I had worn my fleece lined leathers.

“If you need anything, you know how to reach me” Rhys said “Remember the mission, do not engage with anyone. You two need to be invisible and for cauldron’s sake no fighting or I’m sending you both to the Spring Court indefinitely”

Az and I nodded in agreement and the high lord winnowed back home.

Once he left Az grabbed me by the waist pulling me into him, and before I had time to protest we were in the air.

“Fuck me” I practically screamed “you know that I hate when you do that” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck to hold on.

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I do it” his lips turned into a smirk as he continued “and if you wanted me to fuck you all you had to do is ask…mate”

I rolled my eyes and resisted the urge to slap him; I will remain calm I told myself as the high lord’s warnings weighed on me. I didn’t particularly feel like talking, and apparently neither did Azriel so we remained silent the entire flight. By the time we landed the snow was sticking to my hair, my lips were chapped from the frigid air and my ears and nose were red and raw.

Azriel had decided to stop for the night, in part due to exhaustion from flying all day and in part due to the low temperatures up here in the mountains. He muttered something about setting up the tent while I looked for wood to get a fire going.

I think the not talking was worse than the fighting. I got the fire started and was now listening to the light crackling of the flames as I heated up a stew from the rations in our pack. Azriel emerged from the tent sitting next to me as he took the bowl from me, bringing it to his mouth.

“WAIT-” I practically flew into his lap swatting the food away from him. He grabbed me by the wrist and stood bringing me up with him.

“What the fuck is your problem y/n” he practically snarled

“It’s just food, and me giving you food. I don’t want to accidentally accept the bond because I gave you food you winged bastard” I said pulling my wrist from his grip.

“It doesn’t work like that you psychotic bitch” he said shaking his head as his eyes met mine.

“Gods you are insufferable” I say sucking in a quick breath “You know what?! my bad okay? Fuck me for not saddling you with a fucking mating bond”

“Are we really going to do this now” he brings his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut

“Do what now” I ask

“Talk about this” he says gesturing between the two of us.

“What about it, it exists, and I know that and I’m not going to reject it because that would affect us both. So, we can just continue ignoring it like we have in these months since it snapped. You can keep calling me a psychotic bitch and I’ll call you an Illyrian bastard and nothing has to change. I still hate you; you still loathe me. There is no this. There is no us. So, we have nothing to talk about” I made my way towards the tent when I felt his hand grip my wrist turning me to face him.

“Don’t talk then, just listen” he said “I think that you’re lying”

“What are yo-”

He holds up a hand to silence me, cutting me off as he continues “I think that you are terrified at the thought that someone could love you. I think that the idea of someone who is perfectly matched with you, your equal, is the worst possible thing to happen to you so you will do EVERYTHING in your power to destroy even the slightest POSSIBILITY of being with me. But deep down? Deep down you want me to love you and that scares you, but what scares you even more is that you want to be with me and that’s what drives you crazy. I think that’s why you pretend to hate me so much”

“I don’t have to pretend to hate you.” He smirks at me, which only encourages me to keep going “You want to know what gets under my skin? Fine. It’s the fact that you think that just because I’m your mate that you somehow own me that because of this stupid invisible string tethering us together that it means you have some say in what I choose to do with my life. Newsflash shadowsinger I am just as capable a spy as you, I am just as capable of being on my own. I don’t need you. I don’t want you. So just fucking drop it.”

“What the fuck makes you think I want to control you?”

“Are you kidding?” I can’t help but laugh

“Does it look like I’m fucking kidding” he says harshly

“The incident in the Court of Nightmares? You know when you had me forcibly removed from the interrogation room because Kier made a remark about my ass. Or the night at Rita’s when you attacked a male and practically killed him for buying me a drink. Or how about my favorite when you had an entire conversation with Rhysand and Feyre about how I shouldn’t be in the field or on missions because as a mated female I have other obligations and its ‘too dangerous’”

Azriel stilled.

“What nothing to say now?” I asked, he remained silent his piercing hazel eyes wide, but he said nothing.

“You know what? Screw you Az” I said and stormed into the tent. A few minutes later I heard the sizzle as the fire was put out and Az joined me in the tent. I kept my back to him and eventually drifted asleep.

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

The next morning, I woke up to an empty tent. After a quick stretch, I fold my bedroll and pack the miscellaneous items thrown around the tent and emerge to find breakfast. Azriel is seated in front of a small fire sharpening truth teller on a stone. I rummage through my pack and pull out an apple. While I seat myself opposite of Azriel.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” I ask

“I figured we can pack up here and move to the tree nearby for surveillance. I’ll send out my shadows to check the perimeters and we’ll wait until it gets dark to move into the camp.”

I nod along. “okay”

“What no notes? You don’t want to critique the plan or insult my opinion?” he asks

“Nope” I say taking a bite out of my apple.

He doesn’t press further; we pack up the camp in silence before beginning the hike towards Ironcrest. Azriel maintains his pace a few feet in front of me, his shadows constantly taking in our surroundings. I hate to admit that it made me feel a lot safer so close to one of the war-camps. I was experienced in dealing with males; as a spymaster I had done countless interrogations and missions on my own but for some reason this mission gave me an uneasy feeling and having a male with such notoriety with me was enough to ensure my safety, I wasn’t too proud to recognize that.

A few hours later we made it to a spot Azriel deemed secure enough to set up. He flew me up to a sturdy branch, and I tied a rope around the trunk of the tree securing the end to my waist in case I were to fall. After a moment, Azriel joined me, his shadows concealing us from anyone lingering in the woods and we waited.

“I know you’re mad at me” he said, breaking the silence between us.

“Why would I be mad” I asked him “I have nothing to be upset about”

“Look I wasn’t trying to upset you, last night but we do need to figure this out.”

“Like I said, there is nothing to figure out.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it” he said, turning around to face me.

“I don’t know it, and gods I don’t see why it is such a big deal. Don’t you have Elain and Gwyn, and gods knows what other females just foaming at the mouth at the chance to be with you? Go for one of them.” I snapped at him.

“Oh, believe me, I wish it was anyone but you” I froze “You think its easy being stuck with you? you are the most insufferable, ungrateful, infuriating female I have had the displeasure of knowing.”

“Aww you really mean that?” I ask “Well you are no walk in the park either”

“You know what? I wish that I had let you die during the war. It is the biggest regret in my life that I saved your life, and you turned out to be my mate. You ruined everything; I was doing fine without you. I was happy, I was with Elain then bam. You happened.”

I froze. “Fine, I’ll just leave then. You can continue this mission by yourself, I can’t be around you regardless of what Rhys wants.”

“Fine by me” he said so I quickly untie the rope around my wrist and climb down the tree before reaching a point where I can jump. I land on the forest floor with a soft thud. I take a moment to compose myself, I take a deep breath before I sprint off in the direction we had come.

I run until my legs burn, and I can hardly catch my breath. The adrenaline surging in my body while I think over the conversation, I wished I had let you die. Gods I was so stupid. I ran over every interaction we had in the last few years. A crunching sound pulled me out of my head forcing me to take in my surroundings.

My eyes locked on a figure stalking towards me, then I realized much too late that it wasn’t one figure but dozens. I was surrounded.

Azriel, I thought pulling sharply on the bond between us, as the world went black.

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It had been hours since you left your position in the tree next to him. Azriel couldn’t stop shifting positions he couldn’t deny that he was anxious for you to return, he didn’t think you would seriously abandon the mission. Stupid territorial fae male instincts.

Mate…mate…mate…mate.

His shadows began swirling into a frenzy frantically whispering to him.

…danger…danger…danger

Then he felt it. He had never felt anything particularly important down the bond, it was usually anger (directed at him), or pleasure which he would feel when you were alone late at night (when he was hoping you were thinking about him) but now, what he felt down the bond was different. The sensation was much stronger than anything he had felt before, like someone had taken a hot poker and shoved it down his throat and then he felt it, the panic the fear and he knew something was wrong.

He leapt from the tree he was perched on, reaching the forest floor with a soft thud. He had just summoned his shadows to disperse and look for you in the darkness when he felt a sharp pain on the back of his head. He instinctively moved his hand to the area, and his fingers felt warm and wet. blood. Just as he began to process what was happening, everything went black.

When he regained consciousness, he was kneeling on the ground, he also knew that his hands were secured behind his back and his weapons had been removed. His eyes locked on the figure moving towards him. From his conversation with Rhys, he immediately identified him as Kallon.

“Well, well, well, how nice of you to join us” his deep voice boomed “Just in time for the show”

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How could I be so stupid. I thought while trying to assess the rope binding my wrists and ankles. I was so mad at Azriel that I stormed off into the woods alone and I was so stuck in my thoughts that I didn’t notice the male trailing me until I was surrounded. All I can remember is feeling panicked before everything went black.

I woke up to find that I had been stripped of my leathers, I was left only in my undergarments and tied on a post in the center of a circle. I knew it was a humiliation tactic meant to unsettle me and I was determined not to let it. At least I was, until I looked up to find Azriel across from me, he was still unconscious his arms and ankles in iron shackles. It wasn’t until a few hours later that he suddenly stirred, quickly taking in his surroundings. Kallon immediately made his way over to the shadowsinger welcoming him to “the show”. I felt a knot of unease settle in my stomach and then it started.

**********************************

“That the best you can do?” I said through clenched teeth. It had been hours of this; of Kallon mercilessly whipping me, and between the whipping he would let his accomplices beat me and grope me and further humiliate me. I focused on the open wounds along my back, the cold night air in contrast to the warm, sticky blood that was running down my back staining the ground around me.

“Oh no sweetheart” Kallon said “This is just the warmup”

Azriel pulled on his restraints.

My eyes widened as he brought over a set of knives and other tools. I began to do my mind stilling techniques running over the Valkyrie words over and over. I am the rock against which the surf crashes, nothing can break me. I said the words over and over in my head, attempting to disassociate from this reality. Kallon set a piece of iron into the fire closest to us, he was heating it. Nothing can break me I thought again but I couldn’t help the tears lining my eyes.

“Oh shadowsinger, look at your pathetic little mate. Trying so hard not to cry. We both know she can’t take much more of this” Kallon grips my face in his hand “I think I’ll enjoy breaking her”

I took a shaky breath as Kallon removed the iron rod from the fire. From this angle I could tell that it was a brand, the end of the rod a fiery molten orange and red. Azriel pulled on the restrains and began pleading with Kallon. At that point I let the tears fall.

“Lighten up Shadowsinger” Kallon said with a smile on his face “Now the whole world will know who she belongs to” he lowered the iron to my stomach, I could smell my flesh burning under the pressure, the searing pain was too much, and I blacked out again.

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He was helpless.

He had tried contacting Rhys through his mind, as he had many times before to find the connection silent. Faebane. These must be faebane shackles which would explain why he couldn’t summon his shadows and why he couldn’t contact Rhys. He also knew that he had missed his check-in with the high lord, he could only hope that it worried him enough to investigate.

He locked eyes with you and saw the wetness there, saw the tears begin to fall. He had never seen that look on your face, you had given up and he was helpless. This was all his fault. He was grateful that you had passed out, hopefully it would give you a few moments of peace before returning to this hell.

Every crack of the whip had been torture. To watch his mate being tortured in front of him. He wished it was him. He would give anything to trade places with you but the branding. He couldn’t imagine anything worse; he knew your feelings about being owned because of the bond and the fact that you had the letter ‘A’ now permanently stamped on your stomach, a permanent reminder of this night, if they ever made it out of here. He remained hopeful that if he could get you out and get you home as soon as possible that maybe Madja could help you. That maybe she could remove what had been done to you. He held onto that hope as you came to.

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When I finally regained consciousness, I locked eyes with Azriel. The shadowsinger looked like hell. His eyes rimmed with red, the look of desperation on his face. I knew I would die here and so did he.

“Welcome back darling” Kallon said once again moving towards me. He pulled a knife from the sheath on his hip, and I recognized it immediately. Truth teller. I pulled against my restraints as he brought the knife to my cheek applying pressure. I felt the blade as it sliced my skin, felt the trickle of blood fall from the cut he inflicted. He continued this for what felt like an eternity, making cuts all over my body, anywhere he could think of until he drove the blade straight through my shoulder. I couldn’t help but scream, the knife felt like it was burning as he twisted it before pulling it out.

“Well, as fun as this is” Kallon began “I got word that we are going to have company soon, and I don’t intend to be here when they show up so let’s get this over with”

I looked at Azriel. This was it, I thought. Not knowing what else to do, I mouthed the words I’m sorry to him. He just shook his head, looking at the ground.

Kallon grabbed me around the throat, cutting off my airflow. “It’s been a pleasure y/n”

He struck then, using the knife to slice my wrists open, the blood trickling down my forearms as he disappeared into the night.

“Hey, hey, hey y/n” Azriel pleaded with you “Stay with me okay. You don’t get to die on me. not like this” he practically screamed.

“Maybe it’s better this way” I managed to croak out, my throat burning “Just let me go Az”

Then everything faded away.

**********************************

A crack sounded as two Illyrians slammed into the earth. Cassian and Rhysand had come. Azriel screamed at them to help him, to get him free so he could go to you. After Kallon had disappeared, you remained semi-conscious, he pleaded with you to stay with him, that it was going to be alright, but you had lost so much blood, there was so much blood. He felt you slipping away, the light of the bond becoming a faint flicker as your body went limp and your chest stopped moving.

Cassian ran over and immediately worked on freeing Azriel from his restraints while Rhysand made his way to you, removing the restraints and resting your broken body against the cold earth. Once the shadowsinger was free he frantically crawled across the ground to get to you.

“Oh my god, oh my god. Rhys what do I do” Azriel cried as he cradled your body in his hands. “You don’t get to die on me, not like this” he cried as he tugged on the bond, “Not when my last words to you were that I wished this, not when I have loved you from the moment you walked into my life.” He pulled and pulled on that limp string tethering you two together. He willed you to live, willed it more than anything else in his life and he would hold on to it like his life depended on it. Because it did, you were his life at least you were what he wanted in his life. He noticed then a sound, your heart. He stilled. It was still beating.

“Az-” Rhysand began to say “let me take her back home, if I can get her to Madja there might still be a chance. But I need to take her. Now”

Az gently stood, picking you up in his arms and delicately handing you to Rhys ignoring all the instincts roaring within him to stay with you “Please help her Rhys”

“I’ll do what I can” and with that the high lord was gone, taking you with him.

Azriel let out a visceral scream as he collapsed into the arms of his brother. Cassian just held him allowing the male to process the events of the night while they waited for Rhys to return to winnow them home.

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It had been a long night.

Rhysand had summoned Azriel to his office upon their return to the house, to distract the shadowsinger from your condition and to find out what had happened. After the meeting, Azriel returned to your side only to be ushered out of the room by Madja and Feyre. He stood outside your room pacing the halls while he waited for any kind of update about your condition. He knew from the bond that you were alive, but the bond continued flickering in and out as if you were between the planes of the living and the dead.

It wasn’t until midday that Feyre emerged to find Azriel sitting in the hall, his back to the wall with his elbows propped on his knees his head resting in his hands. The high lady spoke softly “Az, she is going to be alright…physically she is going to recover. But I think she is going to need someone to talk to, someone to support her while she gets through the psychological injuries.”

“Feyre…” the shadowsinger said meeting her gaze, his eyes swollen and puffy from crying all night. “This is all my fault”

“Hey, hey, hey, none of that Az” the high lady warned.

“If I hadn’t told her those awful things, she wouldn’t have left and if she hadn’t left then Kallon wouldn’t have gotten a hold of her and none of this would have happened.”

“You can’t blame yourself for what happened to her” Feyre said “that won’t help anyone”

“I almost lost her” Azriel said “And these past months, since the bond snapped, I told myself I didn’t care about her. That I hated her. I told her I wished I had let her die. But seeing her like that, seeing what-” he let out a choked sob “what they did to her. I knew I had made the worst mistake of my life, and that she was going to die thinking I hated her. She did die thinking I hated her, and I don’t know If I can forgive myself for that.”

“You have to find a way Az. I think that you both need to have an honest conversation without pushing each other away, because I think she feels the same.” Feyre said

Madja emerged from the room “She is asking for you” she motioned towards Azriel.

“Good luck Az” Feyre said

He immediately jumped up from his position, took a deep breath and entered the room.

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Everything hurt.

The last thing I remembered was Azriel pleading with me to stay with him. I had no memory of getting here but after a quick survey of my surroundings I knew I was home. Or I was dead.

“Y/n, you’re awake” Madja spoke emerging from the bathroom wiping her hands on a clean cloth. “You suffered severe blood loss, I managed to repair most of your injuries, but you will have a few new scars. You will need to remain in bed for the next week to recover but after that you may resume your usual activities. You are lucky to be alive young lady.”

“Where is Azriel?” I managed to choke out, my voice raw and raspy.

“I’ll get him dear” Madja said.

“Thank you Madja…for everything” I said as she left the room.

After a moment Azriel entered, silently moving to the side of the bed, and sitting in a chair placed there. He took my hand in his placing a gentle kiss to my palm.

“Y/n” he began “I’m so sorry this happened. I-”

“Az, you don’t have to-” I tried to say

“Please, just let me say this” he cut me off. I went silent as he continued “That night, the night before everything when I said you were scared of being loved. I was projecting my own feelings. I am the one that’s terrified of loving someone, for this reason, for what happened to you. I mean Kallon did what he did to you be-because of what you are to me and y/n when I woke up to find you like that, I have never been so afraid.”

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand “And when you looked at me when you told me to just let you go? I wanted to die with you, I would have died with you because I don’t want to be here without you not for a single minute. You are the most infuriating woman I know, you care for others more than yourself, and you don’t follow orders, and you manage to find every single way to get under my skin and those are also all of the reasons why I am hopelessly in love with you.”

“Azriel” I said softly

“And I know you may not feel the same way. But after this? I knew I couldn’t spend one more day without you knowing the truth and y/n I will spend the rest of my life-”

“Azriel” I said louder, which got his attention as he stopped, and those piercing hazel eyes met mine.

“You are the most controlling, ignorant, idiotic, psychotic male I have ever met” he went still next to me “You have managed to figure out every possible way to irritate me and push my buttons…but as it turns out…dying or almost dying makes you realize a lot of things. Like the fact that I didn’t want to die without getting to tell you that I loved you too. I love your stupid hazel eyes, and your stupid messy hair in the morning. And I love that smirk you get when you know you are pushing my buttons, and the dimple in your cheek that emerges when you laugh, when you actually laugh. And just- I just- I love you Azriel” There were tears in my eyes, and in his as he looked up at me. “I don’t want to spend any more time apart either”

I reached onto my bedside table, where an apple was waiting.

I slowly handed it to him, his eyes widening in understanding, he slowly took it from my hands before saying “If I eat this now, I’m going to want to fuck you in every possible way on every possible surface and you need time to recover. Believe me I want this so badly it hurts but once Madja clears you, once she says its safe. Then we can do this”

“Okay.” I nod. He presses a kiss to my temple.

“Can you just say it one more time?” I ask softly

“I love you” he says

“I love you too”