#but Nyx must look so much like her in some ways

[prythianpages]

I've Been Waiting For You | Bonus

Azriel x Reader bonus scenes based off of this one shot. These are some scenes/ideas that didn’t make it to the final cut.

warnings: just some suggestiveness with the last one (but not really, it's just the morning after you and Az spend the night together but the scene itself is just fluff.) all of these scenes are purely fluff 🤧

Thank you so much for all the love you showed this imagine! I'm so happy you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing ♡ I tried to keep all of this roughly in chronological order.

Azriel groveling after snapping at you.

Azriel found himself in a situation that required more than just words to apologize to you, especially with the look of hurt he had seen in your eyes. Determined to make amends, he decided to enlist Elain's help, knowing that you had a sweet tooth and that snickerdoodles were among your favorite treats. Elain was happy to help, agreeing to bake them for you.

Azriel carefully left the freshly baked cookies in the kitchen, accompanied by a note expressing the sincerity of his remorse.

**

However, the next morning took an unexpected turn when Cassian stumbled upon the kitchen with Nyx in his arms. "Cas-see-an," Cassian kept repeating to Nyx, enunciating his name so slowly in an effort to get the infant to repeat it.

Nyx babbled in response as Cassian gently set him down on the counter. He kept a hand on the baby while his other reached for a mug, missing the way Nyx's curious gaze landed on the colorful note resting atop delicious cookies.

His tiny hands grasp at the note, squeezing it in his hand before it it falls from his grip. Nyx watches as the note falls to the floor, landing under the cabinets. He lets out a small whine.

"Are you hungry?" Cassian asks, turning back to his sweet nephew and follows Nyx's gaze.

"Oh!" Cassian exclaims with a gleeful grin when he spots the plate of cookies. "Don't tell your mother."

Cassian quickly uncovers the plate, thanking the Cauldron for gifting him with a wonderful sister in law that loves to bake. He offers a cookie to Nyx while he takes a couple for himself.

**

Sensing your presence nearby, Azriel dispatches his shadows to investigate the kitchen. They quickly report back to him with the unfortunate news that the cookies had been devoured. He's then rushing into the kitchen himself.

"Morning, Cassian," he hears you say and then with a much lighter and excited tone, "Good morning, Nyx! Whatcha got there?"

"Morning y/n," Cassian greets back, brushing crumbs off his shirt.

Azriel's eyes narrow, gaze flickering between the empty plate and the crumbs on both Cassian's shirts and Nyx's face.

"Oh! Good morning, Az."

At the mere sound of his name, he notices the subtle tension in your body. Before Azriel can utter a word, you swiftly conjure up an excuse and make a hasty exit from the kitchen. As Azriel turns his gaze to Cassian and Nyx, he finds himself unable to muster any anger.

A sigh escapes him. His first effort to make amends had not gone as planned.

**

Undeterred, Azriel decides to try a different approach for his next apology. This time, he chose to give you flowers, intending to leave it somewhere for you to find. However, in his haste or maybe his distraction, he accidentally placed the flowers in a spot where someone else stumbled upon it. Amren, of all people.

"What are these, boy?" She asks sharply, eyeing the colorful arrangement warily as her hands wrap around the vase.

"Flowers."

"I know they're flowers."

"They weren't for you."

"Oh, thank the gods," Amren says in what sounds like relief.

And just as Azriel is about to take them back, his shadows sense you approaching. The Cauldron must not favor him, he thinks. He hears the sudden pause in your step as your gaze lands on him and catches the way your fingers tighten against the book in your hand. He catches a glimpse of Seers in Prythian etched across the cover.

Azriel knows you want to turn around but given it'd be absolutely obvious that you're avoiding him if you did, you find yourself frozen. When he meets your gaze, you turn your head, focusing your direction on Amren instead.

"Nice flowers, Amren."

"Thank you," Amren smirks, silver eyes flashing between you and Azriel. "Aren't they lovely?"

"Lovely as you!" You reply with a smile and then leave.

Once again, Azriel finds himself sighing deeply at another failed attempt in apologizing to you.

"Do better, boy."

"I know."

**

Azriel's third attempt in making amends is cornering you so he can finally talk to you. He sits in the living room, perched on the couch that directly faces the door to Rhysand's office, with a book about the history of seers similar to the one he had seen in your hands the other day. You're currently inside with Elain as you both debrief Rhysand and Feyre on your progress with Elain's powers.

Elain is the first to step out, eyes widening in surprise. "Azriel," she greets with a smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Reading," he replies simply, gesturing toward the book in his hands.

"About seers...?"

"Just thought I could help..."

Elain's eyes narrow at him and Azriel finds himself sinking further into the couch. Though he's apologizing because he genuinely feels remorse and wants to make things right, he can't escape the fact that Elain had chastised him for not doing so already days ago.

"You haven't apologized yet, have you?"

"I'm trying."

Elain's gaze softens and she lets out a small chuckle. "She'll be out in a couple of minutes."

Azriel feels a wave of relief as you step out alone, prompting him to rise to his feet and call your name.

"Hey, Azriel," you greet politely, and his shadows seem to dance with delight at the acknowledgment of his presence. Finally, they whisper eagerly into his ears.

"Can we talk?"

"Oh, um...," Your gaze shifts over his shoulder, seemingly fixed on something that his shadows report as nonexistent. "I think someone else is calling me. Maybe another time? I have to go!"

As you attempt to maneuver around him, Azriel subtly moves with you, blocking your path. "No one called your name," he points out softly, suppressing a smile as your eyebrows furrow. He senses you scrambling for another excuse.

"The future!" you exclaim, your eyes brightening as you tap the corner of your eye. "The future is calling me. I must go."

As you move, Azriel doesn't have it in himself to block your path again. He doesn't even have it in himself to be upset. Not when he finds your excuse amusing and your presence itself endearing.

His shadows, however, aren't as forgiving. They whisper harshly into his ears, growing impatient with each failed attempt. "Next time," he promises them quietly.

(And almost two weeks after him snapping at you, he finally succeeds in asking for your forgiveness during his fourth attempt when he brings your dinner to you in the library.)

Elain gets a vision, where she finds out you and Azriel are mates.

"Close your eyes and focus on your breath," you instruct her softly. "Feel the rhythm of the earth beneath you. Attune yourself to the heartbeat of the world around you. What do you hear?”

Elain closes her eyes in deep concentration and as her head grows quiet, the world around her seems to awaken. She can feel the power coursing through her veins as she says, “I can hear the wind and the tremble of the grass beneath it. I can hear the wind carry all the way to the sea.”

“Good. Now feel the whispers of the unseen.”

“I can’t.” Elain’s eyebrows furrow as she struggles to delve deeper into her power. She finds herself stuck amidst the wild sea of the unknown. Wave after wave crashes down on her, knocking her down before she could even get back up.

“Here, take my hands,” she hears you say and then she feels your hands reach for hers. “Imagine a pool of water within you, calm and reflective. Use me as a vessel to carry you through it. I’ll guide you to where your visions will manifest.”

Elain does as told, bringing herself back to that sea of unknown in her mind. This time, she's not alone and she's able to rise from the water. You're there with her, the two of you standing knee deep in the waters that are beginning to calm in your presence. The world stills around you two and Elain feels her body relax as she allows you to guide her to the center.

And suddenly, the dark sky around her begins to brighten with visions, dazzling her like the stars in your eyes do. She finds herself overwhelmed by the all the flashes and voices. She takes deep, steadying breaths like you always do and the visions begin to slow, developing before in a way she can discern.

Her eyes widen she realizes they're all of you.

In the first vision, you're sat at the breakfast table, making small conversation with Cassian and Nesta as you bite into your pancake. The next couple of visions are mundane, just you going about your daily routine.

Then, you're seated at one of the tables at the garden, basking in the sun while Elain gardens a couple of feet away.

"Did the Suriel ever say anything about Lucien?"

"Many things," you answer her with a grin. "Called him his Fox boy..."

And Elain wants to linger in this vision longer, itching to know more. But as quickly as it flashed before her eyes, it's fading away and a new vision is brought forth.

Now, she stands within a resplendent ballroom nestled within the House of Wind. Fae lights adorn the ceiling, casting a celestial glow that lets her know its Starfall. Amidst the enchanting scene, you and Azriel gracefully twirl on the dance floor. Elain, intrigued, takes a step forward, captivated by the mesmerizing dance unfolding before her.

“You should stay.”

“Why?”

She watches as a wistful expression takes over your features and she has to stop herself from reaching out for you. The music comes to a gradual end and you free yourself of Azriel's hold before the next song starts, missing the way Azriel frowns at the loss of your warmth.

“There’s no one here for me.”

There's a deep, haunting sadness to the laughter that follows your words. Elain also finds herself frowning. She didn't know you were feeling this way, or rather, going to feel this way.

Elain detects a subtle twitch in Azriel's hand from the periphery of her vision, as if he longs to reach out to you but is held back by fear. Redirecting her focus to Azriel, she observes the tender and affectionate gaze he bestows upon you, while you remain unaware, fixated on the ground. This sight tugs at Elain's heart.

It's surprising because she thought she would feel hurt by it. But she doesn't. Instead, empathy floods her, accompanied by a silent wish that you would lift your gaze and witness the profound way Azriel looks at you in this very moment.

Please, she wants to scream but even if she opens her mouth, she knows no sound will come out. Please look up!

“I’m right here.” 

Elain exhales with relief as you finally meet Azriel's gaze, but the moment has passed. Azriel's expression transforms into one more guarded, his eyes now concealing what was once openly displayed. A subtle frown settles on your lips, and Elain witnesses a fleeting trace of hurt that crosses Azriel's face. Whatever you sought in that exchange, it appears you did not find it.

The scene before her blurs, shifting into another. Elain is now standing at the foyer of the river house, watching as you make your way down the steps. Suddenly, the door slams open and Azriel's chest is rising and falling as if he's been running. His eyes are wide and frantic, relaxing only when he spots you.

"It's you. All this time. It's been you."

“You know?”

"You're my mate."

A warm smile graces Azriel's lips as his gaze meets yours, and the tender expression Elain previously observed during the Starfall vision reappears on his face. She feels her heart melt at the sight because this time, you don't miss the way he's looking at you.

And just as she's about to dive into another vision into your future, she finds your connection abruptly broken. The warmth of your hands leave hers and you disappear from the depths of her mind. The sky around her darkens and though the waves begin to lap at her again, they remain calm and soothing.

"Stop!"

"I'm not hurting her!"

Elain blinks her eyes open and widen at the sight before her. You wear a pained expression on your face and there's blood trickling down your nose. Guilt courses through her, making her skin pale. She didn't know she was hurting you. Oh gods, if she knew, she wouldn't have lingered in the visions of your future. She didn't even know she could do so and judging by the look on your face, you're completely unaware of her accidental intrusion. Maybe, it's best if she didn't tell you...

"Are you okay?"

Elain doesn't have time to dwell on it as Azriel is urging her to go grab a towel while he guides you forward with a worried expression. When she returns with the towel in hand, she finds her apology dying at her throat, reluctant to disrupt the tender moment between you and Azriel.

"Like what?" She hears Azriel asked in an amused manner.

"Don't make me answer that."

At that moment, your gaze locks onto hers, and Elain assumes an air of nonchalance as she finally approaches the two of you with the towel in hand. Azriel takes it from her, carefully wiping at the blood on your face, and as Elain silently watches, she can't believe how she didn't see it before.

You and Azriel are mates and she feels nothing but pure joy for you both. She only wishes she had known sooner.

Elain confesses to you about Lucien and then asks you about Azriel.

The vibrant streets of Velaris hum with excitement as you and Elain approach one of the bustling markets. Amidst the lively atmosphere, you find yourself marveling at the enduring beauty of the city. You inhale, taking delight in the sweet blend of fresh flowers.

There's a certain lightness to Elain's steps, more so than usual today. Catching your gaze, she turns to you with a soft smile, intertwining her arm with yours and drawing you closer.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

Your eyes light up involuntarily, driven by your insatiable curiosity for gossip. "Of course," you reply and though this is a secret you promise to keep, it doesn't dim your desire to hear it.

"I wrote to Lucien. I think I'm ready to give him a chance."

You stop, halting her in the process as well. A frown creases your brow as you look at her. "Are you sure?"

"I used to think mating bonds were precious," you speak again, mind drifting to Azriel briefly, before redirecting your focus back to Elain. "But I've come to realize there's an even greater beauty in choice."

"I want to give him a chance," she reassures you. "It's my choice."

"Okay then," you reply and the two of you resume in your walk toward the markets. "As long as you're happy, I'm happy."

Elain's gaze lingers on you, a fleeting trace of guilt flickering in her eyes so briefly that you wonder if you imagined it. Curiosity takes hold as she ventures, "What about your own happiness? Is there anyone special you fancy here?"

"I like you," you smile, completely missing the point. "I like Feyre, I like Nyx, I like--"

"No," Elain giggles beside you. "Anyone you like, like?"

"Maybe a certain somebody...," she hints, her voice trailing off and when you stare blankly at her, she adds, "Like maybe Azriel?"

At the mere mention of his name, your body tenses. You're silently hoping Elain doesn't pick up on it, but given she still has her arm wrapped around yours, you're sure she felt it. Still, you feign nonchalance.

“What about Azriel?”

“Do you like him?”

“He’s beautiful, yeah.”

"That's not what I asked," Elain laughs, wearing a knowing grin as if she's already privy to your response.

Your heart skips a beat, prompting an abrupt halt once again. At this rate, you won't reach the stall that sells your favorite pastries in time.

"The other day," you start, and she instantly understands the reference to the day she accidentally glimpsed into your future. "Did you see anything?"

"No," she responds a bit too hastily. "Did you?"

"No," you say with a shake of your head and that dull ache from that day returns. "All I saw was a dark void."

Elain asks what the Suriel had to say about Lucien.

Nestled on one of the lounge chairs in the garden, you close your eyes as you bask in the sun. Elain, rests a couple of feet away on the soft grass, as she tends to the gardens.

"Did the Suriel ever say anything about Lucien?"

"Many things," you reply, opening your eyes. Your lips curve into a grin as you remember all the late nights you spent talking about said Autumn male. As emissary to the Spring Court, who often got sent on a lot of missions, the Suriel had a lot to say about him.

"Called him his fox boy...What are you itching to know?

Turning your head toward Elain, you catch the way she blushes. "I don't know," she admits sheepishly. "I was just curious."

"Did you know he told Amarantha to go back to the shit-show she'd crawl out of?" Elain's lips begin to twitch upwards, but your next words prevent the smile from fully forming. "It cost him his eye, unfortunately. "

"Lucien is good male," you speak again, swiftly shifting the topic to something lighter. "He has friends everywhere, in every court. He's the type to do anything for those he holds dear. From what I've heard, he's a pretty generous lover and given he's from Autumn Court, gods are you in for a treat. One night, the Suriel told me that he took a female to--"

"That's okay!" Elain cuts you in sharply, making you laugh.

"Autumn males have fire in their blood and I heard they fuck like it too."

"Feyre!" Elain gasps with wide eyes, her face growing as pink as the roses she just planted.

You're turning to face Feyre with a delighted smirk. "So you know too!"

Elain stands up, brushing her hands on the dress, indifferent to the dirt staining the fabric.

"Where are you going? We were just about to get to the good part." You muse.

"I'm actually going to go see him," Elain admits and before you can any anything, she adds, "I think I'll just ask him what I want to know myself."

You respond with a shrug of your shoulders and wish her good luck. "Have fun!" Feyre calls after her.

After Elain disappears from view, Feyre gracefully settles into the lounge chair next to you. Her blue eyes carefully assess you for a moment. "What else do you know about him?"

You meet her gaze, detecting an unspoken knowledge. "What else do you know?"

You feel her presence asking for entrance in your mind and you let her in, smiling when all she mentally utters is one word. A name, actually. Helion.

His father, you reply back with an all-knowing gleam in your eye. Did you know the Lady of Autumn and him are mates?

Feyre's eyes widen, and she releases a gasp. There's more isn't, there? She speaks into your mind.

Of course there is, you reply back. With a graceful wave of her hand, a complete tea set materializes along with an array of snacks upon the iron table between you.

I sense we'll be here for awhile, she muses to you, blue eyes glimmering with anticipation.

You chuckle as you start to sweeten one of the steaming cups of tea to your liking. Your attention shifts to the untouched third set on the table, and a dull ache settles in your chest as you envision the Suriel, absent yet somehow still present at the table.

As you bring your tea cup to your lips, you proceed to indulge Feyre with every bit of knowledge and gossip you possess about Helion's affair with the Lady of Autumn through your mind.

You don't realize it then, but this day, marks the beginning of what you and Feyre would later name "the Suriel fan club." As time passes on, the club grows more and more, until it becomes a monthly meeting amongst the inner circle.

The morning after you and Azriel spend the night together for the first time.

Your eyelids flutter, like delicate butterflies stirring from slumber, as the muffled whispers of morning dance in the air. You stir and turn to your side, bringing the warmth of your sheets with you. Your movement causes a chain of reaction and your entire body freezes when you feel an unfamiliar weight come to rest over your side.

It's instinct, the way your fingers grasp for the dagger you keep under your pillow. In a moment of panic, you find yourself straddling a body and pressing your dagger against what you initially thought was an intruder.

"y/n, what are you doing?"

Your eyes snap wide open and memories of the night before flood your mind. You find yourself looking down at Azriel. Your mate, Azriel. Despite the dagger pressed at his throat, he smiles lazily up at you.

"I'm so sorry!" You exclaim with a heated blush, throwing the dagger onto your nightstand, relieved that you didn't knick him on accident. Judging by the way he's looking at you, you don't think he'd mind anyway.

"I'm not used to sharing my bed," you admit sheepishly, sliding off of him and wishing your bed would just swallow you whole at this point.

Taking advantage of your shift in position, Azriel turns on his side and hovers over your body, hazel eyes gleaming down at you. "You sleep with a dagger under your pillow?"

"Yes and?" You retort, a touch too defensively, eliciting laughter from him that sends an infectious warmth coursing through you. A smile tugs at your own lips. "You were listening when I told you I lived between Prythian's forests and shady Inns for many years, right?"

"Of course, I was. I listen to everything you say," Azriel responds smoothly. "It's just..." His voice trails off, and though your gaze remains fixed on his face, you notice him reaching for something in your peripheral vision.

He flashes you a grin as he pulls out his beloved dagger from under the pillow his head was resting on earlier.

"I sleep with a dagger under my pillow too."

a/n: hope you enjoyed these little scenes! I also wanted to clarify that Elain was starting to think about giving Lucien a chance, even before she found out reader and Az were mates, and it's her finding out about your bond that gives her the confirmation to move forward. She realizes that Azriel won't be alone as he has someone waiting for him (:

tagging: @stormhearty @shinyghosteclipse @justvibbinghere @mybestfriendmademe @aandweaa @loveareum @hellodarling1357

@sassybluebird, @crookedcrusadestranger, @xlosttdreamss, @peachcontour-blog, @shadowandlightt, @waytoomanyteenagefeels, @darlingbravebelle, @scooobies, @je-suis-prest-rachel, @toobsessedsstuff, @kaysav608, @idkitsem, @coffeebeforewater, @rinalsworld, @elissanatok, @mischiefmanagers, @paranoidhwks, @meshellexplosionmurder, @skylling, @irismoon, @addieslibrary, @wildrosewhiskey, @aneekapaneeka, @mx13sworld, @vixemi, @strangersreadingcorner, @aristocrrat, @olive-main, @moonyscherry, @stressed-reader, @alysena2, @heartysworld, @aomi-recs, @vardda, @awritingtree, @sillysillygoose444, @spideytingley, @aria-chikage

I tried tagging everyone who had left a comment or reblog with comment/tags, just in case you were curious to read more about Az & seer reader. Idk why not all tags worked out :(

[yearningaces]

Ok ok enough of humans being scared

I want a monster that's scared, that's the prey in the relationship, that's instincts are so different it makes you realize just how scary you can accidentally be

Reader is described as strong/heavier/ carnivorous/a predator (keep in mind though, this is a human being compared to small rabbit-like creatures so regardless of your stature it applies)

Reader is referred to as 'he' once in passing, beyond that everything is up to interpretation

I want a monster that's intimidated and horrified by humans because humans are a predatorial species, specifically pursuit predators. We just keep going- humans do insane shit for fun or adrenaline, or because it's a dire situation and their brains have hit fight/flight and at that point has dropped any barrier of "can't do that, too much effort would hurt the body" and will lead to humans doing insane feats in crisis mode, even if it damages their body. Once the adrenaline wears off they're gonna feel it but essentially at least for a short time a human is capable of hulking out.

And I want you to imagine with me, say a rabbit monster, small, quick, agile. No excessive strength because they're made to evade which means being light and being fast.

A bunny-boy if you will. Triangled nose that twitches when he smells things, upright ears that when relaxed lean back against his head. Fur patches on random body parts like arms or legs or along the spine from his hair to his hips where the humanoid body morphs into a pair of anthropomorphic rabbit legs. Springy lad.

I'm calling him Nyx

And Nyx adores his human partner so much. You.

He just adores you, you know that post about the rabbit with his gf that's 3x his size? Similar case but this rabbits got a human for a partner.

And whenever he brings you home to his families burrow, you note there are many burrows of different families around here. Almost only burrows. As if it's intentional.

Now, in your eyes you're an average human. Maybe a bit strong when you need to be, but your not the strongest or fastest or smartest. Even if you're very capable you're not the best of the best, and You've told Nyx this whenever he goes on his tangents about being the lucky guy to score such a capable partner.

But you realize just how different you are once he brings you inside and you have to duck down to get into the burrow. When you see the children and the adults alike freeze as if something truly terrifying has entered their home.

You have to soften yourself right now, overly deferring to Nyx in a way you never thought you'd need to just so this family of prey monsters will feel safer. Strange isn't it?

And Nyx -happy as can be- drags you along, not ducking, not concerned, not out of place, brings you to the kitchen to meet his Da and his Ma. His Da is at the stove cooking something a bit clumsily as if there's something he's unfamiliar with as his Ma is setting the table with one spot given the most room. And they both freeze for a moment, noses twitching, taking you in before it's Nyx's Ma that finally takes the plunge and greets you with what you can clearly define as nerves.

No one else seems to notice though, or remark on it.

You'd followed your little Nyx here wondering how his family would threaten you about 'if you ever hurt him' the way human families would, but these creatures seem overly appeasing. Nonconfrontational.

Eventually you ask Nyx's Ma -as she seems to be the one in charge- if she has any questions for you. She takes a breath, looking back to her own partner and mentally decides to ask something. "What sort of human are you?"

It takes you some time to understand her words, but Nyx chimes in before you can. "A loyal one." And the way his gaze flutters up to you, so enamored and adoring, his form leaning into your side where your arm automatically wraps around him. It must be comforting with how he sinks into your hold with a content little sigh. You never did notice how fragile he is until right now when it's so obvious around his families home how out of place you are.

With a tilt of your head, you feel the need to experiment a little. With one hand you grip onto his shoulder, supporting the weight easily and with the other hand you grab onto his hip. And lift up.

He's light- so, so light. Weighing nothing to your heavier body that's built for heavier task than the rabbits swiftness and agility.

Nyx is having the time of his life, delighted at the curious display you've demonstrated, his family has their own shock to get over- as do you. With such care, you set him back down again with the absent minded remark of- "You weigh nothing, hun... I gotta feed you more." Because to you that's what it means, he's not eating enough.

To the families confusion, Nyx clarifies for you. "It's a human thing. They feed others they care about, really big ordeal food is. Share it with loved ones, make it to express care or appreciation, even old phrases like "the way to a humans heart is through their stomach", it's a big deal!" And he's so delighted to explain something you never really thought about too much yourself because it's instinct. Natural. But there's something so sweet about how he describes it and he is right, so you nod your head, holding him close once more as he turns to you. "And I promise I'm eating enough, I'm just made to be a lot lighter than predators like you." His tone is soft and comforting as if intentionally trying to appease your own instincts you've never given much thought of.

With a tilt of your head, you shrug and agree but mentally swear to give him bigger portions in the future regardless.

He leaves to help his Pa in the kitchen, and you're left to entertain a family of rabbit-like monsters. It's surprisingly easy when the youngest are released and immediately ask you to lift them up like how you did Nyx. So you do, one after the other, occasionally giving a little toss where they're caught immediately once more.

They're so weightless and tiny, almost like your stuffed animals when you were little. But they squeal and giggle like they've never been lifted so easily before. As if it's impressive.

You chatter aimlessly with the older rabbitesk creatures, speaking of how you and Nyx met, what sort of accommodations you've worked out to live in a place suited to both you and your much smaller companion, whatever topics come to mind. Though you seem to be the one unintentionally driving the conversations, no matter how socially adverse you feel, or how confident. The floor is yours, practically given to you without any trying to speak over you a single time.

When you sit for supper you note that you'd been given a different plate, the plate that Nyx and his Da had been working on. A clumsily cut, undercooked steak. Not wanting to be rude, and knowing red meat won't hurt if it's not entirely cooked through, you tear into it.

You don't quite notice any of the stares until you hear your little Nyx voice his thoughts.

"See? I told you, eats like a carnivore he does!" His voice beaming with pride. You glance over with a confused expression only to really notice how every other rabbit creature sitting at the table is staring at you with different expressions. That's when it really kicks into your head your plate is the only one with any meat.

You give a sheepish grin and instead eat one of the steamed slices of eggplant that's on your plate.

Strange isn't it? To be human and to be viewed as something dangerous... But I suppose you are, just not in ways you'd notice because it's so normal for you.

Not to them it isn't, not to those monsters that are more prey than predator.

Isn't it just so strange?

[violette-hue]

Fated | (01)

Summary: Azriel is forced to find some sort of release after being barred from pining for Elain. He finds a lovely distraction at Rita's.

Trigger Warning(s): minors do not interact, 18+, SPOILERS, smut, partying, one night stand, not proofread

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Making this, hopefully, into a series :)

Azriel should have been furious, or at least insulted. Instead he felt relieved to get a few days off. When Cassian had commented on his recent crankiness and Rhysand had agreed, he was more than ready to defend himself. But then Rhysand had suggested he take a much needed break. And then Cassian had made the comment about getting laid. He wasn’t wrong. 

For weeks, Azriel and Elain had been teetering on the edge of teasing and flirting. For weeks Azriel had gotten so close to being with her, feeling skin against skin, cock buried deep within her. Yet, at every opportunity, something—or someone—had interrupted. Rhys. Cas. Feyre. Even Nyx, from time to time. Azriel new Rhys didn’t want him with Elain, but now it was starting to feel like everyone else was in on it. Conspiring against him. 

But would they really be conspiring against him if they gave him a few days off to fuck? 

Azriel took a deep breath as he entered Rita’s. He wasn’t really sure what to look for. A blonde, like Elain? A brunette? He wasn’t even entirely sure he’d be able to pull anyone. Elain was still plaguing his mind. It was her he wanted, after all. Maybe he should just go home and sneak into her room. 

Just as he was about to turn to leave, someone caught his eye. His eyes trailed over the curves of her body, drinking her in. She was beautiful, one of the most beautiful females he’d ever seen. The lights caught on the sparkles of his dress, and for a brief moment, Elain was forgotten. It was just Azriel and the female. She was surrounded by a group of what he assumed was her friends. As he watched her hips sway to the beat, he convinced himself he could do this. If not for his satisfaction, then for some sort of release. 

Azriel made his way to the bar and ordered a drink. His eyes never left the female, and he could have sworn her eyes crossed his. A shiver of static ran down his spine at the brief eye contact. He wouldn’t leave without trying. 

Another moment of eye contact had him clutching his drink tightly. He watched as the female smiled knowingly. He stood, his drink discarded and walked toward her. At this point, the female had moved away from her friends, and was now looking at him boldly with sweet, sultry look. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” the female said, her voice carrying over the music. Her voice wrapped around his brain like a mist, a hot, heavy mist that filled his veins with desire. 

“I haven’t been in a while,” Azriel responded. His eyes drank the female in front of him in. She was much more beautiful up close.

“I must be lucky.” Azriel carefully watched the female’s tongue dart across her lips, moistening the chapped flesh. “Do you want to dance?”

Azriel found himself smiling, nodding subtly. His hands found purchase on her hips as they swayed to the rhythm of the song playing. Their bodies grazed each other as they moved, electricity buzzing between them with each touch. The female turned, and her luscious ass found place against him. His cock twitched at the intimate contact. He internally groaned. It had been too long since he was able to do this. His hands roamed from the female’s waist to her abdomen against the silky fabric of her dress. His fingers traced the area just below her navel, where there should be an extra bump of fabric clothing her sex. He found none, and nearly had to bite his tongue to control the sudden impulse to take her in front of everyone. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Azriel found himself saying, his lips brushing against the shell of the female’s ear. “To the alley.”

The female in his arms nodded her head and started for the alley. Azriel was close behind her, his hands never leaving her hips. His cocked twitched in his pants from anticipation. Just a few more steps, a rounded corner and he’d be buried to the hilt within this unnamed female. Should it have bothered him that he cared more about what her sex felt like than what her name was? It should, he concluded, but he needed this. He supposed he could find out the female’s name quickly. At least to not treat her entirely like walking release. 

The brisk autumn air kissed Azriel’s face as they finally reached the alley. Within seconds, he had the female against the wall, lips against hers with a devouring fever. The female returned the kiss, her back arching off the wall of Rita’s. His blood bubbled under his skin, and kissing her wasn’t enough. Running his hands over her breasts wasn’t enough. He thought he’d be able to play with her a bit, feel out her sex. But he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to wait. 

Azriel shoved a hand down his leathers and freed his cock. The autumn breeze felt soothing against the heated flesh, and he pumped himself once, then twice. He pushed the female’s dress up her thighs enough to reveal her dripping sex. He licked his lips and rest the tip of his cock against her entrance. He groaned softly with the contact. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, his breath low and husky.

The female nodded, hips wiggling for more friction. “I didn’t get your name,” she breathed, her fingertips digging into his shoulders.

He pushed himself inside her, moaning as her puffy walls embraced his length. “Azriel,” he ground out. He snapped his hips against hers and relished at the lewd sound it made. His arms tensed, his fingers digging into the fleshy part of her hips. “Yours?”

“Y/N.” Her voice was breathy, broken up by moans. She felt so good around him, so – right. 

His thrusts became rougher, deeper and his mind couldn’t form a coherent thought. She tightened around him like a vise as her moans became louder and higher. His name left her lips in an utterance, like a prayer. The sound of the way she moaned his name sounded like pure bliss. Azriel found himself too close to the edge too soon, but so did this beautiful female. Within a few more strokes, she was a moaning mess underneath him. Her fingernails grazed against the base of his wings, and Azriel came with a loud moan. 

Azriel stood there for some time, forehead leaning against her shoulder and breathing heavily. His grip loosened against her hips, but still held her firm enough to keep her held up. A sudden shame filled Azriel. He didn’t intend to finish that quickly, but at least she finished, too.

He raised his head, eyes meeting hers and smiled softly. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “For the, uh, quick finish.”

He watched as a dazzling smile crossed Y/N’s features. “I think mine was a bit quicker than yours,” she responded. Her hands ran gently along his shoulders and biceps. “Maybe we can do this again? For a little longer?”

Azriel smiled, and nodded before he could logically think. Some release every now and then wouldn’t be too bad, especially if he were being micromanaged around Elain. 

“Maybe we can go back to my place?” she suggested shyly. Her hips rolled against his gently as an indicator to what she meant. Azriel didn’t have to think logically to answer her question this time. 

[satansapostle6]

The Crush | Percy Jackson

Percy Jackson is a cool, simple guy who is also the famous son of Poseidon who helped save the world. But, talking to the pretty girl in his English class still seems impossible.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Chapter One: Pussy Jackson

Percy sat behind Chloé in English. She was tall and intimidating, and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to work up the courage to talk to her. Sure, he wasn’t in high school anymore, but he still felt nervous around her like he was sixteen years old again. Chloé Jardine was, after all, the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

He knew Chloé was a Roman demigod, a daughter of Nox, the Roman equivalent of Nyx, the goddess of darkness and the night. She was a fairly typical child of Nox, a sort of minimalistic goth.

She had long, pitch black hair, with tiny micro bangs partially covering her forehead. She was also noticeably pale, as if she only ever went out at nighttime. Most people thought she looked scary, but Percy thought she looked magical.

Chloé had a decent amount of tattoos, including a pretty sizable spider web on her neck. She had a lot of piercings, including an eyebrow piercing and a vertical labret on her lip. She didn’t really wear makeup, but she was very obviously a goth. She was smart, and she didn’t talk a lot at all, which drove Percy insane. He made it his mission in life to know as much about her as possible.

Every time he saw her wearing a band T-shirt of some kind to school, he’d make a note of the band name and look it up later if he wasn’t familiar, and listen to all of the songs he could find.

So far, he’d listened to Type O Negative, Bauhaus, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Sisters of Mercy, Kittie, and Rob Zombie, only affirming his opinion that she was the coolest person on earth. His best friend, Grover, thought the behavior was just a little bit obsessive, but didn’t really think it was that bad.

That day in his college English course, he was sitting in his seat, listening to Soundgarden during the lecture on his laptop with the tab open, secretly hoping Chloé would have some some reason to walk back and look at his computer screen. Soundgarden wasn’t goth, of course, but Percy had seen her wear one of their shirts.

“Hey! Pussy Jackson!”

Percy frowned to see Clarisse La Rue sitting in a seat a couple rows behind him.

“Move your fat fucking head, I can’t see!”

“‘I’m doing fine, thank you, Clarisse’,” he mocked her under his breath. “‘How was your weekend’?”

Percy was startled to look up to see Chloé turned around in front of him.

“Will you two shut the fuck up?!” she whispered, staring at them in disbelief.

Percy’s face must have been beet red as he tried his hardest not to explode. He was dying of embarrassment as he tried to come up with some sort of answer.

“Uh, yeah! Sorry!” he apologized in a whisper.

Chloé just turned back around, shaking her head as she continued taking messy notes on the assignment due dates. Percy leaned forward slightly, looking curiously at her notebook. He found her handwriting interesting; it was kind of small with a lot sharp edges, written in haste without being too messy, almost like a doctor’s handwriting.

Percy knew he must’ve been lost in his horny ADHD world, because before he knew it, the instructor had just finished announcing the next project, a group project worth 20% of his grade.

“Alright, the groups are posted up here, so you can all come and take a look. You’ll have the rest of this class to figure out a presentation topic and get started,” the professor, a woman in her forties, announced as she retreated to her desk.

Alarmed by the words ‘groups’ and ‘presentation’, Percy anxiously made his way down to the whiteboard with everyone else, terrified to receive his group assignment. He prayed silently that he’d get at least one smart kid in his group, and zero Clarisse’s. As he slowly scanned the list of names up and down, his face went pale as he found his other two group mates. Clarisse La Rue and Chloé Jardine.

Percy wanted to kill himself immediately. Not only did he have to work with Clarisse, but he also had to figure out how to work with Chloé, who had just told him to shut the fuck up not two seconds ago, the first words she had ever spoken to him. He glanced back at Clarisse, who was standing beside Chloé. Neither of them looked very happy about the group assignment.

Percy glanced over at the peofessor’s desk, contemplating whether he should try and get a different group. He decided against it, figuring he’d had enough embarrassment for one day. Signing as he realized he’d have to face Chloé eventually, he walked over to where the girls were standing, ready to face the music. He’d fought monsters and faced imminent doom before, and somehow this felt exactly the same.

“I’m not doing all of the work,” Chloé crossed her arms.

“What makes you think you’d be doing all the work?!” Clarisse asked defensively.

“Because I’m in a group with you!”

“Hey…” Percy waved awkwardly, trying to break the ice, which seemed to also somehow be scalding hot.

“Oh, yeah. You’re in this group too,” Clarisse rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Percy retaliated childishly.

“Okay. We need to come up with a topic,” Chloé reminded them. “Which one should our presentation be about?”

“What are the options?” Percy asked, watching as she just let out a long sigh.

The next hour of class went by as slowly as possible. By the end of it, Clarisse had stormed out of the classroom, and Percy and Chloé were left sitting together exhaustedly. Chloé sighed as she got up, heading out of the building as Percy followed her.

“Sorry about Clarisse,” he offered sympathetically. “She drives everyone who has to deal with her insane.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that,” Chloé nodded.

*****

Percy felt odd, and completely out of place the entire time he sat in class discussing the project with Chloé. Every time she spoke to him, he felt more stupid. He knew nothing about what he wanted to do for the project, and he was even less prepared to answer these questions when asked by Chloé Jardine. And of course, Clarisse also being a part of the group didn’t help.

But Percy figured it was almost worth it, getting to work on the project with Chloé, with her cool hair, tattoos and piercings, and blue eyes, the same icy blue eyes that mesmerized him when he spoke to her. Percy had to clear his throat and check his breath twice before smiling at her as she turned, just having ordered a coffee from the kiosk nearby.

“Hey,” Percy wheezed, realizing how eager he sounded stalk to her, cursing himself silently.

“Hi,” Chloé said with slight surprise, sipping the warm coffee.

She looked at him expectantly, wondering what it was he could’ve possibly had to say to her. Chloé had already done a brief mental scan of Percy; she knew that he was the Greek son of Poseidon, by his shaggy black hair and sea green eyes.

She knew from the perpetual dopey expression on his face that he was attracted to her in some way. She’d seen the way he looked at her and assumed that it was mostly more sexual than emotional, based on the way his eyes lingered on her skin and the way he was constantly averting his eyes from her chest.

“See you,” Chloé smiled, politely excusing herself as she walked away.

“Fuck,” Percy muttered under his breath as he watched her walk away.

He sighed in defeat as he watched Chloé walk away from him, thinking of a hundred things in that moment he wished he’d said to her.

“It’ll never happen, you know.”

Percy whipped around quickly, alarmed as he turned around in the direction of the voice he’d heard. Naturally, the disapproving voice had belonged to Annabeth, his sharp-witted child of Athena ex-girlfriend.

“What?” Percy questioned defensively.

“You and Chloé,” she responded promptly.

Percy crossed his arms. “What makes you think—”

“That you’re infatuated with her?” she asked him. “I know you, Jackson.”

“I’m not infatuated with Chloé,” Percy rolled his eyes at her.

“Well. Infatuated or not, her ex-boyfriend is Sean Morley. The son of Apollo?” Annabeth Chase smirked. “With the blond hair, and the shoulders?”

“Why are you so invested?” he ignored her, questioning her skeptically.

Annabeth smiled, patting his shoulder sympathetically. “Because. It’s fun watching you refuse to learn,” she said as her demeanor softened.

Annabeth walked off and disappeared, leaving Percy to do a lot of thinking.

-

Chapter Two

[aether-bun]

Happy Birthday!

To celebrate my birthday, here's a drabble of assorted Hades characters and how they'd be on your birthday! You are in a relationship with Zagreus in this one :)

Characters: Nyx, Orpheus, Eurydice, Zagreus, Thanatos, Hypnos, Dusa, Megaera, Achilles, Patroclus, Cerberus, Asterius, Sisyphus, Bouldy

Warnings: None! Good wholesome times all around ♡

You wake up to Zagreus kissing your face!!!!

I believe in Zagreus caring deeply for physical touch and quality time your honour. Once you warm him up to it, it's his heaven in Hell. He adores it.

He's very warm, but it's never really been a problem, given the consistently nice temperature of the House

"Good morning, [Y/N]. Happy birthday~" He cooes gently, his voice is smoother than the finest ambrosia and you revel in it, snuggling into his chest.

"What would you like to do today, my dear?"

"Mmh....Is sleep an option...?" Zagreus chuckles at your drowsy response, his chest rumbles pleasantly and you find a contagious smile growing on your face.

"Birthdays only happen once a year, darling...Come on. Eurydice made you some cake."

"She did?"

"Yes! When I told her it was your birthday this week, she jumped to the opportunity."

"Then I suppose I must get up?"

Zagreus kisses your head lightly, and you melt from the tender care

"I suppose you must, yes."

You wake up and get into some nicer robes, and walk out with Zagreus to see Nyx regard you.

"Happy birthday, child. As a token of this occasion, I managed to convince Hades to give everyone a moment off, to greet you." Nyx's voice almost sends you to sleep again, but you're much more awake now, and you feel too sheepishly happy to rest.

"Lady Nyx, you really didn't need to...!" Your voice is as incredulous as you feel. "But...Thank you."

"Of course. I believe Hypnos wanted a word, so perhaps you should see to him first."

You and Zagreus walk over to Hypnos, who is currently not sleeping, which shocks you both, though he looks about ready to knock out for the next week at the minimum.

"[Y/N]!! Happy birthday! Dusa and I made you a little something, here here!" He exclaims, all tiredness wiped from his aura entirely as he hands you a small box.

Gingerly, you take off the lid, and inside you are happy to find a new laurel, woven carefully with your favourite colours and plants. You find yourself beaming at the beautiful heartfelt gift, before giving Hypnos a tight squeeze.

"Thank you so much, Hypnos. The detail is incredible!" You say as you part, and Hypnos giggles with a mischevious grin. "It was mostly Dusa, to be perfectly honest, but I helped weave it, so getting the first hug of appreciation for it feels fair."

You laugh, before Sir Achilles approaches with a calm smile of his own, before placing a hand on your arm.

"Unfortunately, I don't have any gifts for you myself, but I do wish you a happy birthday nonetheless. Do spend today well, yes?"

"Thank you, sir. I'll do my best." You smile, remarking mentally that your cheeks are starting to hurt, but also that you don't find yourself minding.

Next stop is to Meg and Dusa, who are waiting in the lounge with Thanatos. When they see you approach, Dusa is the first to float to you. The snakes that make up her hair affectionately grasp onto your arm as you hold Dusa affectionately. "Happy birthday!" She skitters, almost purring in a strange, Dusa-like way.

Meg is next, though she holds her distance as per usual. She's smiling, and her whip is stowed. "I've gotta hand it to you, [Y/N], I don't usually tend to care for birthdays, never mind my own...but you got me a morning in the lounge. So...thanks for that."

It was a strange way to go about saying happy birthday, but for you, it was more than enough. You nodded. "I can't believe Nyx pulled it off. Surely there are some wretched shades out there being overworked now, no?"

Megaera simply shrugs, but the creeping grin on her face tells you she hopes it's the case.

Thanatos clears his throat, and you realise he's held something out to you. It was a bottle of nectar. You gasp, taking the weighted spherical bottle in awe.

Zagreus squints at it, still by your side, before suddenly looking at Thanatos. "I gave you this bottle of nectar yesterday!" He says, indignant. Thanatos smiles - a rarity on its' own - and simply dismisses the Prince.

"Regardless of where you got it from...Thank you, Than, this...this means a lot." You say, your voice still awestruck by the honey gold liquid you're holding.

Zagreus of course brings you plenty, but even so, its' beauty never ceased to amaze.

You visit Sisyphus, who gives you Pebble (one of Bouldy's brothers, who has a delicately punched smiley face on one side), then you visit Orpheus and Eurydice, who gives you a kiss on the cheek and some cake, then you meet with Patroclus, who takes your hand very hesitantly and prays for you, for your good luck this year. He says he'll see you at the house, and on your way back, you find Asterius.

Zagreus prepares for a fight, but Asterius is unarmed, and he quickly realises.

"Asterius? What are you doing here, without your axe?" He asks. Asterius chuffs.

"Your father gave us a small break this morning, small one. You said something about celebrating someone's birthday last we clashed blades, and so, naturally, I assumed it would be your lover's. Was I correct?"

Zagreus stows his blade and you nod a little. "That's right, Asterius sir." You clarify. "It's good to know he gave even you and Theseus a break, too."

Asterius snorts, though it's not one of amusement or malice, simply a noise. He rifles through a pouch he has, before handing you a weighty box. Inside is a handaxe, crafted by the minotaur.

"You have no weaponry when you wander out here, I've come to notice. This is for when we meet in the stadium. For if you need more than simply the blessings of the Olympians." The bass voice of the bull rumbles, and you hold the axe firmly with a grin. Zagreus chuckles next to you.

"I appreciate this, Asterius. Thank you. Send our regards to King Theseus?"

Asterius laughs.

"I don't think he'd take it well, but I wish you a good day despite."

Asterius leaves, and you and Zagreus are amusedly quick to do the same.

Eventually, after a day of exploration, you cuddle up to Cerberus and thank Nyx on your way through, before laying down with your Zagreus.

"Today was fantastic, dearest." You say. Zagreus holds you close, playing with your hair. "I'm glad. But there's still one present you've yet to receive, my dear~"

It's 1AM right now. Use your imagination.

[dreadfutures]

impressions from the hades ii technical playtest

absolutely chock full of spoilers but also theories

Amazing gameplay, feels just as good as Hades 1 with improvements and creative changes. So many different builds/play styles will be possible. in the dev stream they talked about melee close quarters vs sorcery ranged, but I find myself doing HEAVY spellcasting while also stacking in heavy melee boons on the knives, and mixing and matching.

The boons have a few familiar perks but so many of them are new and creative, even for gods we know from the first game. All of them feel really good.

The SOUND EFFECTS are amazing. The sounds of your weapons change based on the boon equipped to each attack. the sounds of the arena change depending on the god at the end (if any). Nothing and I mean nothing makes the dopamine go off more than the sound of Hephaestus' boon blasts when I do my fan of knives and they all explode. PING PING PING.

I find myself doing "resource runs" and "story runs." they do overlap. It's tough to only have one harvesting item equipped at a time and I spent so much time looking for silver and looking that my eye has started slipping over the lone spirits who gives you psyche, even when Selene leads me to them lol. I do like that they have her guiding light, but it is subtle. I also like the way you can pin certain items when you're in a run so you can remember what you needed for a recipe.

Unfortunately I did so many harvest runs that I actually got all the recipes before I had a chance to USE forget me not on a run so.... woops on that fated list lol.

We are maybe going to romance Moros or Nemesis (probably both are options?) but maybe not both at the same time? since they're siblings technically (technically) (I wouldn't mind though). I love all these children of nyx and want to protect them and smooch them all.

EXCEPT. Mel is a Silver Sister, with Artemis and Selene. Does that mean she's gotta be a virginal girl squad? lol

I love sister Artemis. I love that she throws snacks!!!!! which is even more endearing bc it's fried and a chocolate bar and soda. I wonder if sometimes I hear a note of disapproval from her and I wonder where her plot will go later. Selene it's said may not be able to reach us in Tartarus, but Artemis might.

Speaking of found family.

I fucking adore Odysseus. I love Od. So. Much. Like I loved Achilles but Od is such a good girl dad for Mel, and his pep talks are the best and so sensitive ;_; what a guy I love him.

I think? that Hecate's familiars must be placeholders, since they're just little statues that vibrate when you give them treats. I can't wait to see where they go in the full game.

It's an interesting take on Hestia, that she hates everybody. It makes me wonder if we'll see Hera or not, since I kind of expect that behavior from Hera.

Hephaestus and Demeter and Aphrodite remain my favorite boon givers.

As far as I can tell there is no fishing rod in the playtest but there will be in the full game and I'm excited.

Arachne's self esteem hurts me 😫 I love you little bug!!!! I wonder if we'll find her shop in Olympus or in Tartarus -- and I worry about her. At least Athena is too busy to bother her! I hope! I love Mel's different outfits.

The amount of pets that Mel gets to have is delightful. I love her frog so much.

Hecate is fascinating. She is SUCH a mother, she is SO compassionate to Mel and trying to build her up! She is wry and dry but never cruel or negative. I love her sm. Poor Mel has some low self esteem and understandable doubts and is putting so much pressure on herself. And I really wonder about Hecate's relationship with Persephone and the house of Hades and with nyx. Nemesis says something that makes me wonder if Hecate is innocent. Either way I don't think she'll really be a villain. My heart would break if so. Mel would break.

Mel is so sweet and pure. ;_; and she says "death to chronos" so coldly. When she says "Hence I go" I just hear her as a little baby playing hide and seek with Hecate and it gives me so many feelings.

I want to know about Mel's arm!

I can't wait to see the other regions just from the Crossroads, since there's currently two doors we can't enter.

Also what are we going to DO with the fish?

Very exciting stuff.

[velidewrites]

Come To The Day Court, We Have Orgies

Helion goes way too far when he decides to host a city-wide orgy in his new heir’s name.

Pairing: Elain x Lucien

Word Count: 906

Warnings: None, just shenaniganry

***

Petrified, Elain stared at the letter.

The thick piece parchment in her hands glittered with golden swirls that made up the letters—the words she’d been replaying in her head for the past two minutes. Two minutes which, frankly, had started to feel like an eternity.

Elain blinked, then read the invitation again—slowly. Then again. And then one more time.

The letters twinkled—some strange Day Court spell must’ve given them a life of their own, seemingly mocking her surprise. Surprise wasn’t the right way to put it, really. It was pure, unrestrained shock that had frozen her limbs into place.

Perhaps she was experiencing a vision—surely this could not be happening, not in real life. Behind the foggy chaos of her mind, anything was possible—even…this.

“Elain!”

Elain flinched. “What?”

Her sister’s blue-grey eyes levelled on her. “I must have called your name a million times,” she said, brows knitting in confusion. “Are you alright?”

Elain swallowed. Hard. “I’m…not sure.”

Feyre’s gaze dropped to the parchment in her hands. “What’s this?”

Elain hugged the pamphlet closer to her body, shielding the shining letters from view. “Nothing important.”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Feyre judged, “You’re white as a ghost.” She moved a step closer. “What is it? You know you can tell me,” she added, her face creased with worry.

She did—yet still, words seemed to had fled her mind. Elain opened her mouth, then closed it—how in the world could she explain the invitation she’d just received?

Feyre huffed impatiently, moving closer toward the window where Elain stood. She’d been enjoying the view—her garden at the River House had truly been the loveliest in spring—when her gaze had darted to the letter, abandoned in the pile on the coffee table, adorned by the official Day Court seal and addressed to her.

Of course, Elain had opened it right away, curiosity getting the best of her—curiosity she now damned to the Cauldron’s wrath. Had she not been so intrigued, perhaps she wouldn’t have been dealing with his alone now. Lucien was supposed to be arriving soon, and she’d much rather have him with her while she tried to figure out her response.

Her response to Helion Spellcleaver’s invitation to the biggest celebration of the year. To the official—

“Day Court orgy?” Feyre asked behind her shoulder, her eyes wide.

Elain only stared.

“Give me that,” Feyre took the paper from Elain’s hands, scanning its contents closely. “He’s hosting it in Lucien’s name?”

Elain nodded weakly. “To celebrate his new heir.”

Her sister read the invitation again.

“Tell me I’m imagining this, Feyre.”

But Feyre’s brows furrowed as she read out the scheduled date. “How come we weren’t invited?”

Elain blinked.

“You can’t be serious?”

“I thought we were good friends,” Feyre muttered, ignoring the question entirely. She looked up at Elain again, something quizzical in her stare. “Does Lucien know?”

Oh, gods. Did her mate even know what his father had planned?

“Does Lucien know what?” a voice, rich and deep like honey over her skin, sounded from the doorway.

Elain whirled towards it—towards Lucien, her gaze landing on his. Those eyes of russet and gold sparkled, the way they always did whenever they met her own. For a moment, everything in the world was right again.

Feyre pressed the letter back into Elain’s hands. “I better go check on Nyx,” she said quickly, Lucien’s confused look escorting her out of the room.

Sorry, Feyre’s chuckle slid into her mind, and Elain only huffed. 

Lucien’s full lips curled into a sly smile as he offered his mate a deep bow. “My lady,” he greeted. The words had usually sent shivers down her spine—but right now, Elain had other things on her mind.

Seemingly sensing this, Lucien rose, an incredulous look playing on his handsome features as he approached her. “Something wrong?”

Wordlessly, Elain handed him the letter.

She watched his eyes widen as they moved over the words.

And then, again.

And again.

“Lucien?”

Lucien looked at her, horrified. “I’ll be right back.”

And with that, he winnowed away.

***

“Everyone is staring,” Lucien murmured.

Laughing, Elain stroked his shoulder, her touch light over his bare, golden-brown skin—over the golden cuff wrapped around his bicep. In the past two days, Elain had grown particularly fond of the regal piece, insisting he keep it on at all times. Lucien, of course, was more than happy to oblige.

The throne room was filled with people—scholars, nobility and regular citizens of the Court alike—all, mercifully, dressed. It had taken an intervention from Lucien’s mother for Helion to finally realise that, perhaps, a ball was a more appropriate means of honouring his heir than…well. Whatever else the High Lord had planned.

“Relax,” Elain told him, her face beaming with pride—just as it had been the entire night. “It’s almost over.”

“You don’t know my father,” he said, though a certain warmth washed over him at the words. His father. That’s what he was, wasn’t he? His family. "He'll keep this party going for hours."

Elain smiled, understanding shining on her beautiful face. “Well then,” she began, a teasing sparkle in her eye. “Perhaps it’s time for us to retreat to your chambers.”

Lucien’s eyes darkened. “Oh?”

Elain winked. “I may have planned a party of our own.”

Now that was an invitation he’d gladly accept.

[acourtofinkandpapyrus]

A Flower With Petals of Flame: Part eight (Eris x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of trauma and mistrust.

Part seven Part nine

Tag list: open

After arriving in Velaris, Y/N talks with Elain and finds out her brother hasn't told her everything yet...

(Sorry, this is a bit short but I didn't have a whole lot of time to get this out today)

Being back in Velaris was a dream I had never thought would come true.  The people were as happy as ever, even if the streets showed that the war hadn’t left even our hidden city unscathed.

Apparently Feyre has a little art studio, which warms my heart.  I had heard a little bit more about what she had gone through, and I knew she deserved to have happiness, wherever she may find it.

“So who made those wings?”  Rhys asked, studying the pair strapped to me.  “It had to be someone in the dawn court, if I’m not mistaken.”

I chuckled.  “No, you’re not.  It was Lucian’s friend actually.”  I say, trying to leave Eris out of it.

He didn’t need to know about that.

“Nuan?  Wow, she never fails to impress, does she?”  He says, and I can’t help but let out a chuckle.

I stop in my tracks as I see the new building we were heading for.  It was quite big.  “That’s new.”  I comment a little dumbly, not sure how I feel about it yet.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I forgot to tell you.  This, is the River House!  Big enough for all of us to live in comfortably.”  Rhysand was quick to say, grinning down at me.

I nod, smiling back up with him as I fidgeted with my sweater. I don’t know why I hadn’t expected some changes.  “It’s great.”

I hate it.

It’s not that it’s not beautiful, it’s just… I can’t stand open spaces like this.  It reminds me too much of the Asteri’s throne room, where…

I shake the thoughts from my head.  Not the time Y/N.  Find Elain, ask what she saw, if she knows why people are falling through the cracks in the fabric of the universe.

Because there is always a reason.

As we crowd in, and Rhys starts on a tangent I’m not listening too, I study the details of the place.

It feels well loved, and the more I look, it’s less like a throne room and more like a home.  There are paintings lining the walls.  Feyre’s I’m assuming.

“Hello!”  A little voice says, and I look down, freezing as I see blue tinted violet eyes looking up at me, giving me that sweet smiles only toddlers seem able to do.

Mother above.

“Oh, hello!”  I say, a friendly playfulness in my voice.  “You must be Nyx!  I’m your aunt, Y/N.”

Nyx’s face lit up.  “Auntie Y/N!”  He shouted with glee as he wrapped his little arms around my legs.

My heart warmed.  I always loved children, but seeing how much this little boy looked like my brother made me love him even more.

“He likes you.”  Feyre said, grinning at me before she came over, collecting her son.

I blushed, “I’ve always had a knack with children.”  I mutter, a little embarrassed.

Things were still awkward, it’s like no one knew what to do, whether to stay or leave, what to say.

I held back an eye roll, about to make some excuse to run off when the scent of baked goods and sugar shoved into my senses, overwhelming me.

I whip my head around to find the third sister.  Despite being older than Feyre, she seemed smaller, meeker than either of her other sisters.

But I catch the way she studies me, not unlike the way Lucian looks someone up and down when evaluating.

She was quick to look at the rest, her face molded into soft confusion.

I would have to keep an eye on this one.

“This is Y/N, Rhysand’s sister.”  Azriel tells her, and I’m shocked at how soft his voice is, the way he held her gaze.

Shit.

At least it was no longer Mor, but I couldn’t help the worry that started to churn in my gut.  I didn’t know this female, but everything in me screamed that there was something more to her.

Keep an eye on her indeed.

Things started to relax as conversations started up, and I noticed that Elain was staying at the fringes of the group.

I made my way over to her, bowing my head only slightly.

After I was forced to my knees and beheaded by Tamlin’s father.  I bowed to no one.  Not willingly, at least.

“Hello Elain.”  I said softly, almost a whisper.

She smiled sweetly, dipping her head to look away, mumbling a hello.

I smile down at her, knowing that under those pretty lashes she bats at me, her eyes are much more cunning.

“I was told you were the seer, that you were the one who said that there were three of us that would come back.”  I say, trying to keep my voice soft and saccharine.

She wasn’t the only one familiar with hiding under the guise of a naive girl.

She nodded, and I smiled, pushing more, “Do you have any idea why we are returning like this?”  I ask her, mirroring her curious face from earlier.

She seems to realize where I’m getting my inspiration from, because the corner of her lip twitches upwards before she presses her lips into a flat line.  “You should ask your brother.”

Turning around, she walked back into the kitchen, and I suddenly felt uneasy as I looked over at my brother.

Why hasn’t he already told me?

[stargazingfordreams]

The Star that missed The Sun

Nyx x Reader

Warning- arrange marriage, cute stuff.

A/N- Soo you guys are fantastic I really didn't expect anyone to like part one so much; I really just thought that maybe it was going to be a one-shot but you guys seemed to have loved it, so here is a part two

Word Count- 2.1K

Part One

My eyes fluttered open at the sound of birds chirping outside of my room. The morning sun crept in, shining on my face. I sighed deeply and lifted myself off my bed, blinking a few times while waiting for my eyes to adjust. I threw myself back down on my bed, hoping to resume my sleep. Until I heard a slight knock at my door

"My lady? I came in to give you a wake-up call," a handmaiden came in. I recognized her as one of the ones who helped me get ready for my wedding. It was hard to forget how she looked with her short blonde hair, tan skin, and blue eyes. She looked like she would have loved being back home.

"Yes, thank you."

She smiled and entered and began to run a bath for me and unload my luggage to find a dress for the day. I went into the bathroom and sunk into the tub, adding some floral scents to the water. I allowed the warm water to ease my mussels.

After a while, I left the tub and re-entered my room, where the handmaiden stood waiting and helped me get ready.

"How do I get to the garden?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, my lady, but Lord Nyx had an emergency this morning and cannot join you for breakfast. He extends his apologies." I felt disappointed, snuggling its way into my body. But should I have gotten my hopes up? My father did his best to be present, and he was, but that doesn't mean that he was always there, and I shouldn't expect that of my husband either.

"Oh, I see. Well, I suppose I can explore Velaris," I told her. She bowed

"I'll go and grab your cloak, my lady."

"I didn't catch your name?" I called out to her

"It's Althaia."

"It's good to meet you" I smiled as she handed me my white cloak, and I went out the door. The street is bright and filled with bustling shops. Everything was so different. In Day court, the road was paved with white gold brick that matched the building, and the sun always hung high on the most beautiful days, but here everything was different. The buildings were lined in all different colors, with the streets black and brown cobblestone. Until I walked to a bridge, shops looked like they were setting up for lunch. Then, I looked at one shop that caught my eye, Eleftheria Saoirse, in bold letters. I was greeted by a woman who looked a few years older than me.

"My name is Abrial. Thank you for coming in." I smiled at her enthusiasm when I entered. I introduce myself.

"Oh yes, your lord Nyx's new bride!" she exclaimed

"Your shop is lovely" I gazed over the dresses and fabric.

"Oh, thank you, dear. Do you sew?" she asked.

"Me? Oh no, my mother did, but she never taught me" she looked at me, a little sad.

"What a shame, well what can I do for you?" it dawned on me at this moment that I didn't have any money.

"Oh, thank you, but I wouldn't be able-"

"Don't worry, truly I don't mind," she interrupted. She must have seen that I was going to protest again, so she continued before I could.

"At least let me give you a cloak; it will help you blend in better" I looked down at my attire.

"Nothing is wrong with it, but it makes it obvious that you are not from here. Anyway, Lord Nyx has a credit line that you can use" I didn't like the idea of me just using Nyx's credit line. I'll pay him back when he gets home.

"Okay, a cloak then." She lit up and went to get a plain night court blue cloak. I reached out to take it, but she moved to her sewing machine.

"I have this wonderful idea for a design; it would be lovely."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to, plus I've been doing this forever, so it won't take me long! I made a dress that would look great with the design I was thinking about. So maybe you can try it on, and don't worry, it's just a try on" she gave me a wink and pushed me into a dressing room with the dress in my hand.

I slipped the dress on, and she was right. The fabric was night court blue and had golden swirls embroidered at the bottom that rose to my knee, and in between the wheels were little gold stars and suns; I looked at myself in the mirror though I frowned a little. I studied my arms. I wasn't happy with it. I know I shouldn't think about these things, but sometimes I couldn't help. I began to pick apart everything that was wrong with me.

You look Beautiful

The thought crept into my head.

"Abrial? Did you say something" I ask

"No, dear, I didn't. Did you try the dress? I must see how it looks" I looked once again at myself for some reason feeling just a little more confident. I stepped out of the dressing room and gave her a twirl.

"Just as I thought, it's a great fit." She walked up with the cloak and placed it on me. The cloak matches perfectly with the gold thread that made a design on the back.

Half a sun and half a moon meet together to create one. The symbol of both courts.

"It's perfect." I breathed out in disbelief at how beautiful they looked together. She packed up my old clothes and put them in a bag. I gave her a look.

"The dress was made for you consider it a wedding gift."

"I don't know how to thank you."

"I wouldn't mind the company every once and a while. Maybe I can even teach you to sew." She handed me the shopping bag.

"I can definitely do that, thank you. "I gave her a respectful bow before heading towards the door. I opened it and had one foot out when I stopped.

"How did you know that I was from day court?" I asked her.

"What?"

"The sun and the moon is the design that you did, but I didn't tell you I was from day court"

"You clothes, dear, I have been sewing for a long time, and I recognized the clothes and cloak from day court," she said, giving me a wave and cleaning up her station.

"Right, of course, you did say I looked like an outsider" I chuckled at her, simply nodding. I must be losing it. I first heard voices and now questioning people who had been kind to me.

"Have a good evening, My lady."

"You too, Abrial. See you soon!" I walked out of the shop and continued walking around Velaris, visiting many shops just to look. It wasn't until I was tired and starving that I realized I had no idea how to return to the townhouse. Oh no, this is great, just great.

I walked around trying to stop people, but everyone was either going home in a rush or getting restaurants ready for dinner and had no time to stop what they were doing. I sighed in defeat. I looked up at the sky and saw the sun setting. It will be dark soon. I almost gave up when I ran into Lord Cassian and Lady Nesta. But, no actually ran into them. Lord Cassian had to steady me to stop me from falling over.

"Whoa, there little spell-cleaver are you okay" once I was upright, he let go.

"I'm sorry, Lord Cassian, I'm a little turned around, actually lost." Cassian laughed at me. My cheeks heated. Did I say something wrong? Nesta lightly hit his stomach.

"It's hard to believe that you are Helion's daughter. You're far too polite to be related, little fawn," he said in between fits of laughter.

"Calling us Nesta and Cassian is just fine, love; we can help you get back home" Nesta shook her head at Cassian but gave me a smirk. He threw his arm around us, tucking me in between him and Nesta.

"Cassian, you're scaring the poor girl, and she's not a little doll, you know," she said, seeing amusement on his face.

"I can't be excited for our new niece Nes" his smile beamed at me.

"Ignore him; he lacks manners. I've tried to teach him, but I've been failing since we've been mated." Her face was serious, but I couldn't help but giggle. I looked down and noticed the book she had tucked under her arm.

"If you like that series, try the one her brother wrote. It gives a unique look at a romance book from a male's perspective."

"Do you like romance books?" Nesta asked, her face lighting up since the first time I met her at my wedding

"Yes, of course, you should have seen our library back home; my father gave me my section when he learned I liked to read books for fun," I told her.

"Oh no, not you too! You enjoy those smutty books that Nes can't seem to put down." she rolled her eyes at him but still held such a strong sense of love behind them.

"Please come by the house of wind. My friends and I like to meet up occasionally to discuss what we are reading, and we have a library underground that I wouldn't mind showing you." I don't know how long we were walking back, but before I knew it, here we were.

"I'll take you up on that, Nesta, and thank you for helping me find my way back," I said my goodbyes and went to the townhouse. I took off my cloak and set down my bag before the aroma of food flooded my senses. I followed it to the back of the house and into the garden. There I found a table for two with mountains of food and lights that hung in the sky. Nyx was fixing the table. When I came in, he turned to me.

"You have perfect timing," he said proudly, looking at his work.

"What is this?" I said in complete shock at the masterpiece before me

"Well, I really wanted to have breakfast with you this morning, but something came up that I couldn't ignore, but I made a promise to you, and well, I'm sorry that I couldn't keep it." he held out his hand seating me in the chair and pushing it in.

"Oh, I understand, really. You didn't have to go through all of this."

"It's okay, I wanted to," he sat across from me.

We had spent the night eating and talking, and I opened up to him. I told him about my childhood and how much trouble I got into with my two sisters. I told him about the pegasus that I had back home and the first flying lesson that I ever had. Some of the adventures that I had in the summer court with Cordelia, Cressida's daughter. And, of course, some of my safer experiences. Nyx had opened up to me too, telling me how close his family is, and not just with him and his siblings but also with his cousins, his one big happy family. I enjoyed it even if it made me sad to think about my brother, who hardly acknowledged us, or my absent mother. His family seems inseparable from my messy dysfunctional one.

"So, how did you like Velaris? I heard you went out and explored."

'It's different."

"A good different?"

"It's beautiful, truly it is. I found a dress shop, and the owner was so nice."

"I should have told you when you walked in that you look beautiful; that dress really does look amazing on you," he said.

You look beautiful. That voice.

"It was you? Were you in my head" I half believed it myself?

"Oh yes, I'm sorry, must have forgotten that detail," he smirked, holding his wine glass to his lips.

"May I?" he asked. I nodded my head, and then this familiar presence pulled over me.

I wouldn't do it not without your permission, but I felt your thoughts, and they were racing. I thought that you might be in trouble.

And you can do this whenever you want

Only if you allow me

I paused momentarily, unsure how to process it, but then I remembered the dress shop and how it made me feel better after hearing him.

I wouldn't mind.

[bookish-whore]

Falling Part IV

Azriel x Reader

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: Angst

A/N: This is a rollercoaster of a chapter (so buckle in) and is one of the first big ideas I had for where to take this story and I love how it came out. Thank you all for reading and showing me so much support for this story it means the world. See if you can spot the ToG references. I also feel like I should release some headcannons about this little universe I’ve created. As always requests are open <3

Part I, Part II, Part III,

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Winter Solstice was tonight, and the preparations were in full swing. I had arrived at the River House a few hours early to help with decorating, and because Feyre was anxious, it would be the first solstice party here and she wanted to make sure it was perfect (which was driving Rhysand insane) hence why the high lord had mind spoke to me earlier asking if I could help her delegate tasks and set up for the party. After showing me to the designated dressing room, I quickly stashed my gifts along with my dress for later, I joined Feyre in the kitchen where I found her laughing with Nuala and Cerridwen about pastry fillings as they confirmed the menu. While the three of them spoke, I couldn’t help but be nervous for later, so I let my mind wander into a recent memory.

+++

A few days after my outing with Feyre, I had returned to the Velaris markets to finish my shopping. I needed to pick up gifts for the remaining members of the inner circle and the trip turned out to be successful. I got watercolors for Feyre, a crystal decanter for Rhysand, A mobile for little Nyx, it had stars and wyverns and Illyrians that spun to a lovely melody. I got Lucien a new quiver for his arrows, and I had gotten a selection of Cassian’s favorite sweets, but it was the shadowsingers gift that made me tense. After walking for what seemed like an eternity, I had been ready to give up on a gift for Az. I mean what gift would be suitable for your mate who has no idea you are his mate?

I was ready to call it when I passed this small shop, it was hidden out of the way so much so that you wouldn’t know it was there unless you were seeking it out. For some reason, I felt a pull to enter and found a strange amalgamation of items. The shop was dark, only lit by candles placed on random tables and at the front counter. As I looked around, I could see that there were weapons, jewelry, and books, there were so many stacks of books along the walls and other miscellaneous items. The shopkeeper perked up as I entered giving me a sweet greeting before explaining that most of the items in the shop were charmed and imbued with magic of some kind. I stumbled across a pair of fingerless leather gloves, the shop keeper told me they were that the leather was woven with spidersilk so they couldn't be torn, ripped, or cut with any blade and that they were charmed to fit the wearer and could withstand all of the elements, including fire. I quickly purchased them and left the shop promising to return to peruse the book selection. I also stopped in the Velaris apothecary shop for a backup gift in the event that I lost my nerve in giving him something so personal.

+++

“y/n?” I was quickly pulled out of my thoughts as I registered my name being spoken by the high lady

“Hmmm?” I finally met her gaze “I’m sorry did you ask me something I must have been lost in thought”

“I could tell” she joked “Will you grab these trays and bring them to the sitting room?” she asked

“of course!” I picked up the silver trays of glasses and followed Feyre through the house. When we reached the sitting room, I was surprised to find Cassian and Nesta putting pine garlands decorated with ornaments on the mantle of the fireplace. They both greeted me warmly; Cassian pulling me into a bear hug and spinning me in a circle, while Nesta kissed my cheek pulling me into a sweet embrace. After briefly catching up I decided to tell them, since Feyre, Nesta and Cassian were already here, and they had been such a huge part of my journey so far, I figured they deserved a heads up about what was going to happen at the festivities later.

“So…” they looked at me expectantly “I’m going to tell Az. I’m going to tell him about the bond tonight”

“That’s huge y/n” Nesta says “are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“Absolutely not but…he deserves to know” I said giving Feyre a small smile.

“You owe me 20 gold marks” Cassian says holding his hand out to Feyre, the high lady lets out a hearty laugh as Rhysand walks into the room.

Nesta slaps him on the arm. “What?!”  Cassian says “We had a bet, and clearly I know y/n because I just won”

“Technically” the high lord begins “The bet was that she tells him by the end of the year, so if she tells him before midnight then you win… but if it’s after that then we win” he gives his mate a sly wink.

“I cannot believe you are placing bets on this” I say, a smile blooming on my lips as I look at them. “My life could fall apart so if anyone is going to win those marks it is me.” We all look at each other and laugh, it was a nice break from the thoughts that had been eating away at me all day, the rock that had settled in my stomach at the thought of telling Azriel about the bond.

“It will be alright y/n” the high lord says placing a comforting hand on my shoulder “Now, I may not be the best at giving this kind of advice, because well you know.” He smiles looking over at his mate “but if I know anything, it’s that this was the best thing to happen to me. I think Az will feel that way too”

I look around the room and smile at them, my friends who were trying to offer me some kind of comfort, trying to lighten my mood before tonight.

“Now” Feyre says clapping her hands together “It’s time to get ready!”

The high lady led Nesta and I to the designated dressing room to prepare for the evening. She had three soaking tubs placed in the bathing room side by side so we could talk while we took in the sweet smells of the various soaps and oils in the water. Once we were satisfied, and the water had become tepid we put on our robes and moved around the room in tandem; drying our hair, applying simple makeup, and continuing to chat about nothing and about everything. A soft knock at the door halted our conversation; I could tell by the scent that it was Cassian holding Nyx who needed his mother. I opened the door, motioning for the Illyrian general to enter and as he did, I took Nyx from him, cooing to him while I took him to his mothers waiting arms.

Cassian had made his way over to his mate, whispering something in her ear as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. Based on the quick shift in their scents I gathered that it was all the things he planned to do to her later, when they were alone. Nesta gave him one of her signature smirks as she told him to leave the room, that we would meet them downstairs briefly. Cassian pressed a kiss to her lips, gave Feyre and I a wave and promptly left the room.

After a quick feeding, Feyre handed Nyx to me so she could get dressed and head downstairs to make sure everything was ready for our gathering. The little prince was a dream, he looked up at me with those piercing blue eyes and smiled, before slowly falling asleep as I rocked him in my arms. The high lady emerged in a light blue outfit, it was in signature night court fashion, a pair of high waisted pants loose and billowing with velvet cuffs of silver around her ankles paired with a matching top with long sleeves that were made of sheer material that also featured cuffs of the same silver fabric on her wrists. The top ended just above her navel revealing a sliver of skin as she walked across the room to where I sat with a now sleeping Nyx.

“I’ll take him” Feyre whispered, and I gently shifted the sleeping babe into his mothers’ arms “you two need to finish getting ready and I’ll meet you downstairs” she said walking towards the door, as she opened it, she used her daemati gifts to wish me luck telling Azriel tonight, and that she felt it would all work out in my favor. I smiled at her as she left the room with Nyx.

Nesta and I continued talking, mostly about her sexual endeavors with Cassian. I have to admit I was happy to listen, I was living vicariously through her at this point. I helped her zip up her dress, it was elegant but simple, a floor length A-line black dress with long sleeves, the interesting part being the deep v neckline that I’m sure Cassian would love, while she put on her jewelry I got into my own dress. For tonight I had chosen a long burgundy dress, it was sleeveless and had a high neckline with a keyhole cutout, so I could show a little cleavage. After putting on simple earrings, and a few rings I looked to Nesta who gave me her nod of approval.

“You ready” she asked

“As I’ll ever be” I replied and with that we made our way to the party downstairs.

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The party is in full swing, Amren and Varian were the last to arrive, fashionably late as expected. I managed to get a drink before I made my way around the room and found Lucien who introduced me to Vassa and Jurian or the band of exiles as they call themselves. I also found Helion engaged in conversation with Mor, Emerie, Gwyn, Cassian and Nesta. Helion gave me a wink as I walked past. I also saw Feyre and Rhys on opposite couches talking with Vivienne, her mate Kallias and Tarquin, the high lord of the Summer Court.  

I took another look around the room and finally spotted Azriel, who was standing alone in the doorway. I decided to make my way over before I lost my nerve.

“Enjoying the party spymaster?” I say with a sly smile

“Much more now that you’re here” he takes a look at my outfit for the night, raking his eyes from the floor back up to meet my eyes “You look beautiful tonight y/n”

“Stop it” I playfully hit his arm but can’t stop the blush that spreads to my face at the compliment. I see Elain beginning to make her way over and decide now is the time to ask.

“So, I need to talk to you about something, when you have a minute” I managed to say, surprised at myself for how calm and collected I sounded.

“Of course, anything for you” he replies “I’ll find you after gifts and we can go to the roof, away from prying fae ears.” I give him a nod and a smile as Elain makes it to us.

“Enjoying the party y/n?” she asks

“I am so far, and you?” I decide to make polite conversation with the female.

“I prefer the quiet, all the people and the noise. I’m still getting acclimated to having fae senses, so I find it a bit overwhelming to focus” Azriel puts a protective arm around her, and she rests her head against his shoulder.

“There is an apothecary in Velaris and they sell this tonic, usually it’s meant for babes with ear infections but it dulls the sensitivity of your ears. You should try it; you know for events like this” I say

“Thanks for the tip, we should go investigate” she says more to Azriel than myself, he gives her a nod. Pulling her hand to his mouth to press a gentle kiss there. I was proud of myself for remaining there when only a few weeks ago the display of affection would have sent me into an episode.

“Well, you two enjoy your evening” I say scanning the room for Lucien

“You too y/n” they both reply.

I spot the red hair and make my way over; he was now talking with Helion. As I made my way over, I could make out they were planning his move to the Day Court. Since the revelation that Helion was Lucien’s biological father they have been building their relationship and part of that was Lucien learning about the Day Court, since he would one day be its high lord.

“y/n my dear” Helion said grasping my hands in his and making me do a turn “You are an absolute vision”

“And you, are an absolute menace” I say back “But back to the conversation at hand, when am I losing my dear friend to the Day Court”

“I’ll officially be there in a months’ time” Lucien says

“But you my dear, are welcome any time; day or night” the high lord says with a wink

“I may have to take you up on that Helion, I’ll miss my dear Lucien far too much to stay away”

Lucien pulls me into a side hug, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and presses a kiss to my temple “You will be welcome anytime” he says

Our conversation is interrupted as Feyre and Rhysand announce that they will be exchanging gifts for those that wish to. I make my way to the circle forming in the room and seat myself between Mor and Gwyn on one of the sofas as we start passing gifts around. I was overwhelmed at the beautiful gifts I received. I had gotten books from Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie so I could join their smutty book club. Feyre had painted my fondest memory of myself and the Valkyries after the blood rite atop Ramiel. Rhysand had gotten me a gorgeous pair of Illyrian leathers, along that theme Cassian had gotten me a set of throwing knives. Mor got me lingerie “for educational purposes” she claimed, and Lucien gave me a beautiful necklace, it was gold with an emerald set in the center surrounded by smaller stones. I had immediately lifted my hair from my neck and turned around so he could place it on me. Everyone had loved the gifts I had gotten them, all except Azriel because I had opted to give him his privately as he was quite a reserved person. A few people were still exchanging gifts as I got up to go across the room for another drink when I heard Azriel make an announcement.

“I have one more” he says pulling a small box out of his shadows as he makes his way across the room to where Elain is standing.

“Elain Archeron” he says slowly

“These last months with you have been the happiest of my life” he said as he dropped to one knee, and I felt my heart stop and an overwhelming sense of dread settle in my stomach.

“Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife”

Time had slowed. Everything was happening in slow motion. I could hear the applause, and I saw when he slipped that ring onto her finger, and she leapt into his arms their mouths meeting for a hurried kiss. I was vaguely aware of champagne glasses being handed out, but everything seemed like it was happening in slow motion. Was I even breathing? Were my legs still under me? Was my heart still beating? I was aware that the answer to all the above was yes.

Yes.

The thoughts all rushed though my head at once, and I was quickly spiraling; my breathing becoming uneven, my heart beating rapidly.

She had said yes.

They were engaged.

They were engaged.

My mate was engaged.

Where was Lucien?

Was he alright?

Was he still breathing?

I was going to tell him.

I can’t tell him now.

They are going to get married.

I felt someone come up behind me, the smell of crackling flames and cinnamon flooding my senses. “breathe” he said softly into my ear. “Take a deep breath, you are going to be alright. I’m here- I am here with you” I feel his hand rubbing small circles on my back. I managed to lock eyes with Feyre who gave me a sad look, the same look was plastered on Nesta’s face, and on Cassian’s and if I looked at Rhysand, I could guarantee that his face would have the same look of sympathy. All I can focus on is the soft presence of Lucien’s hand on my back, and the gentleness of his voice as he attempts to ground me.

“I’m alright” I whisper back to him “I’m okay” I don’t know if it’s to calm Lucien of myself, I grasp his hand in mine a silent offering of support as this must be just as hard for him to witness. Lucien leans in again “I am so sorry y/n, but the bond makes males incredibly territorial, and I can’t watch this without wanting to kill him. I have to go” I give him a solemn nod “I’ll write to you” he promises before disappearing completely.

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

I don’t really remember getting up here, I just knew I needed to leave that room. The congratulations and the joy was beginning to suffocate me. I grabbed the small gift I had intended to give him and I made my way to the one place that felt grounding: the roof.

I made my way to the edge, seating myself on the railing as I let the events of the evening replay in my mind. Engaged. Cauldron boil me what was I going to do, if I tell him, he will probably resent me for ruining his happiness with Elain but if I don’t and the bond snaps for him what will he think then? Would he tell me? I am so lost in thought that I don’t notice the swirling darkness making its way to me until I feel the gentle caress of Azriel’s shadows on my arms. Fuck me. In my haste to get away I had completely forgotten about our meeting up here after gifts. I decided I needed to be the first to speak.

“Well, I guess a congratulations are in order” I say plastering a smile on my face and hoping that he can’t tell it doesn’t reach my eyes as I turn to face him.

“Thanks, y/n” he says bringing a hand to rub the back of his neck

“I’m happy for you both Az. Elain is…great”

“I wasn’t expecting this thing between us to become so real, it just came out of nowhere” the smile on his face doesn’t falter once as he talks about her. I can’t help but wonder what that must be like. “I never thought I would marry, unless I found my mate, but after the war and after what almost happened to Feyre with Nyx, I realized that life was meant to be lived, that maybe I was holding back.”

“You deserve all the happiness in the world Az” I say, “but can I ask you something?”

“Anything y/n”

“What if one day you did find your mate? What if one day out of the blue the mating bond just snapped into place? What would you do then?”

“I guess in that scenario, I would want to know her. I think I would owe her at least that. I would hope that she would want to know me before making any decisions. I mean mates are rare to have a mating bond is supposed to be unlike any experience in this world” he said

He had no idea. I thought to myself.

“What about Elain in this hypothetical situation”

“I would tell Elain about her and hope that she would understand and respect my decision. After all, I would never object to her getting to know Lucien and have tried pushing her to spend time with him, to make sure she has explored all her options before just rejecting the bond”

“What happens if the bond is rejected?” I ask

“Why the sudden curiosity about all this y/n?”

“I guess I just never learned about all of this, it’s all still so new to me. I mean I was raised in a temple remember? and while the priestesses were in no means celibate. Mates and mating bonds were not a part of the curriculum.”

“Point taken” he raises his hands in a playful surrender as he continues “Well, from my understanding if the bond is rejected. The male will go mad, and the female doesn’t come out of it unscathed either. There isn’t much known really about rejected bonds because we hold mates to such a high standard. It’s the most precious thing to us besides children. I mean from what I have seen and read about it; mates are your perfect equal in every way. The other half of your soul. Some tales even attribute them to the beginning of time, believing that when the mother spilled the contents of the cauldron to create our world and when she created us, the fae and the Illyrians, she made them of the same soul splitting it in two thus forever giving us the gift of finding our other half.”

“Do you believe that?” I asked

“I did…for a long time.” He replied

“What happened to make you stop believing?”

“I guess it was Cassian and Rhys. Seeing them, my brothers, find their mates who turned out to be sisters was so unbelievable. Then to find out there was a third sister, I must admit I had hoped that Elain would turn out to be my mate. I mean three sisters for three brothers; it made sense to me. I guess the cauldron had other plans.” He took a breath before continuing “When Elain came out of the cauldron in Hybern and Lucien- when Lucien realized that she was his mate. It was when I knew, that finding my mate was never going to happen for me.”

I nodded along as he spoke, suddenly not trusting myself to not reveal the bond. Especially when he was looking at me like that, it was like his hazel eyes were peering into my soul melting me from the inside out.

“By the way, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

I suddenly feel a pang of panic in my chest. “Oh! Right! I just wanted to” I quickly run through the things I can say before settling on “to give you your solstice gift in private. I know how you can be with people” I said summoning the package from behind me.

He gently took it from my hands, tearing the festive paper and opening the box that contained the gloves I had gotten from the strange hidden shop. He gave them a quizzical look for a moment before slowly folding them over in his hands studying the material.

“They are woven with spidersilk” I said, “so they can’t be torn, ripped, or cut with any blade, and they are charmed to not only fit the wearer perfectly but also to withstand the elements.”

He remained silent, just looking at them. I began to feel nauseous the longer he remained quiet. “I know how you feel about your hands, about your- about your scars and I thought that new gloves might help. Also, they would keep you safe because apparently spidersilk is rare and the most protective material in existence and they won’t be slick when it rains, and they are fireproof so-”

“I got you something too” he said cutting off my rambling by summoning a box from his shadows. I was frozen for a moment, before reaching out and delicately taking the box from his hands. I slowly untie the bow closing the box as I remove the decorative paper. I open the box to reveal a dagger. A beautiful dagger. It was simple steel, but the blade seemed to glow like it was made of the moonlight, the pommel had a dark purple crystal set inside of it and the grip felt perfect in my hand like it was made for me. “I had Nesta help as it was being forged, so it is a sister to Ataraxia and imbued with her magic, you’ll have to give it a name all powerful weapons have names” he said as I stared at the gift, silver lining my eyes at the generosity from the male beside me.

“I’ll have to think of one suitable for it” I said softly “Thank you Az, I don’t- I don’t know what to say”

He pulls me into a gentle embrace, I can’t help but feel calm as his familiar scent of night-chilled mist and cedar envelops me. “I should get back downstairs” he says softly “Mor wants to go to Rita’s for celebratory drinks and dancing” I nod at his words “Thank you for the gift y/n, it means more to me than I can express” His shadows envelop him as he winnows back to the party, back to his fiancée.

After taking a moment to compose myself, I make my way back downstairs to the party. As I enter Feyre’s eyes meet mine and I shake my head gesturing “no” to the high lady. She gives me a shallow nod understanding that I couldn’t tell Az. Mor pulls me into an enthusiastic hug and announces they are leaving to Rita’s and invites me along. I gave her a poor excuse that I had too much to drink and had a headache. She gave me a sad look but didn’t push me to join them, perhaps she too knew all about my predicament and like the others was giving me space to process the night.

Once they left and the house was quiet, I returned to my bedroom closing the door softly behind me and press my back against it; my legs gave out and I slide down the door, pulling my knees to my chest and stare at the dagger Az had gifted me.

“What am I going to name you” I mutter to the dagger running through various words in the old language and suddenly remember one that means to be calm and unworried, to have a sense of quietness, and to be still. All things that I need in my life right now.

“Iremia” I say to the dagger, it seems to glow in the light at its new name. “I'll name you Iremia”

Next Chapter ->

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[labellefleur-sauvage]

Heat Above

In the sudden uncertainty of her life, Elain Archeron seeks comfort in an unlikely source: her mate Lucien.

For Elucien Week 2023 Day 1: Mates

The specifics of Elain's visions don't exactly seem well-described in the books, so I'm interpreting her visions (and how the end of ACOSF could affect them) and their potential ties to Lucien here. I like to imagine that Elain's visions will guide her towards her mate, and I wanted to try writing something in the ACOTAR universe for my favorite pairing, so here we are!

Thank you for everyone @elucienweekofficial for organizing this event!

Rating: Explicit. Word Count: 3.9K

Read on A03

XXX

In the span of a day, both of her sisters nearly died. 

And there was nothing Elain Archeron could do to save either of them. 

It all worked out in the end, they each soothed her. Nesta triumphed over those wanting to destroy her and became a Valkyrie, a living legend and feared warrior even the Illyrians idolized. Feyre survived the birthing bed—how, exactly, no one deigned to explain to her - and introduced her son Nyx to her family, everyone weeping joyously.

Everyone was safe. Everyone was fine.

And Elain’s visions had been out of control ever since.

It was as if a momentous shift occurred, like something—or someone—had altered the preordained fates the Mother lovingly crafted for each and every Fae and set everyone a new, uncertain future.

Her visions had never been regular or clear, but now they were chaotic and overwhelming. Death, blood, war, grief, terror and interlopers, interspersed with breathtaking happiness that Elain felt with her entire being: family dinners, Solstice celebrations, walks in unknown meadows, tending a garden on a bright, green hill, and holding hands with a foreign yet familiar male with flaming red hair.

That red-haired male was a frequent guest in her visions now, for whatever reason. Nearly every day she saw a glimpse of him, sometimes alone—his handsome face wreathed in sunlight, an open window behind him, a contemplative look on his face—or with someone she quickly realized was herself, such as when she saw him kissing down, down, down her body…

Elain shut her eyes. It was just like when she had been newly turned and her visions were constant, to the point where she didn’t know what was the present and what was the future, what was real and what wasn’t.

It was all too much, yet not enough. Elain wanted to turn her brain off, to have no thoughts at all, yet she craved more, needed to know what may happen. 

She was alone, yet surrounded by people. There was no one who could help her.

Except one. 

There must be a reason he kept appearing in her visions.

Elain leapt up from her bed and hurriedly dressed. She hoped he still kept his apartment by the river.

“Oh, hello Elain,” Feyre called quietly from the couch in the living room downstairs. Rhys was on the ground next to Nyx, swooping a toy bat over his head. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Just for a walk,” she called, gathering her shoes. 

“Would you like some company? Nyx is due for a nap, and a trip in the stroller—“

“No!” Elain yelped so loudly even Rhys raised a surprised eyebrow at her. “Er, thank you, but it’s just something I need to do by myself.”

Elain let herself out of the River House with Feyre and Rhys’s gentle murmurs behind her, then made her way into Velaris. She didn’t actually know where he stayed or if he spent his time with someone else.

No, she thought resoundingly, turning down a sleepy street lined with attractive apartments, Elain knew her mate hadn’t been with anyone since that horrible day in Hybern.

She stood in front of a clean and unassuming building. Something told her this was it. But how to get in? She was just about to knock on the front door of the building and hope someone would let her in when the door opened and she saw Lucien for the first time in months.

“Elain?”

He looked good. Handsome, clean, and put together in a deep green jacket and brown pants. Two small sections of hair were braided at his temples. 

Elain wondered if he would ever braid her hair, if she asked.

“Elain?” Lucien asked again, confusion and concern flooding his voice. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Elain said, remembering herself and why she was here. “I came to see you.”

Lucien paled. “I see. Would this be better handled inside?”

“Hm. Yes, I think that would be for the best.”

Without a word, Lucien opened the door and led her up a series of staircases to an apartment on the top floor. Like everything about Lucien, it was clean and quietly elegant and put together: soft curtains fluttered on either side of the windows thrown open wide to let the cool breeze in, and several tasteful chairs were arranged around a low table in the middle of the room. A simple kitchen was in the corner, and a closed door was on the opposite side of the room.

Lucien sighed. “Are you here to break the bond?”

Elain looked startled. Why would he assume that? 

True, Elain had been ignoring her mate for years now, too frightened to belong heart, body and soul to any one being. After Graysen, after Azriel, after her entire world upended when she was pushed into the Cauldron, Elain couldn’t bear the thought of having another supposed constant in her life turn away from her. 

But to permanently sever ties with Lucien, especially now when her visions were pointing him towards her, left an empty, hollow feeling in her stomach.

“I—no, I’m not here to break the bond,” Elain replied. Lucien let out a deep breath and visibly relaxed. “I’m here to ask you why I keep seeing you.”

Lucien’s brows furrowed. “Seeing me? I haven’t seen you in months.”

“No, not like that,” Elain said with a slight roll of her eyes. “I see you. Constantly. In my visions.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow. “And there must be a reason,” Elain went on. “I see you in my mind everyday, without fail, between my… other visions.” Elain winced. “But the only good visions—if that’s what they really are, and not just some type of hallucination—only feature you. And I want to know why.”

Silence greeted her. “You came to see me,” Lucien said slowly, an eyebrow still raised, “to ask me why I keep appearing in your visions?”

Elain flushed. When he said it that way…

“I thought you previously said you couldn’t control your visions. How would I have any control over something you can’t?”

Elain bit her lip. He was completely right—there really was no good reason for her to have come here, to see Lucien and demand answers for something he had nothing to do with. But some part of herself knew Lucien was connected to her sudden violent visions—why else would she have visions of him constantly, and feel the urge to see him now, if he couldn’t help her?

“I—I thought—“

“I’m sorry Elain,” Lucien said quietly. “I don’t know if I can help you.” He looked away, a pained look on his face. “Would you like me to escort you home?”

Elain furrowed her brows. “You want me to leave?”

Lucien raised a quizzical eyebrow. “I just told you I don’t know how to help you. You ignore me for months when I give you gifts and space—I imagine you can’t stand to be in my presence since I told you something you didn’t want to hear.”

Elain glared at him. “Don’t assume to know what I want.”

“You’re right. I can’t assume to know anything about you, because every time I’ve tried, you’ve ignored me like a coward,” Lucien replied coolly.

“I’m not a coward!” Elain hissed, her cheeks turning hot.

Lucien chuckled unkindly. “I bet that’s all you’ve ever been. Hiding behind your sisters, using them as shields so you don’t have to confront anything in your life that bothers you.”

Elain grit her teeth, unable to deny Lucien. Why did she think he would help her, even if he could? Lucien probably detested her, loathed her for everything she’d put him through, and she couldn’t even blame him. 

“Even if I were somehow able to help you,” Lucien went on, putting distance between the two of them, “who’s to say you’d do anything but ignore me after I somehow banished myself from your visions?” Lucien leaned against a kitchen counter, directly in front of a wide window, the morning sunlight streaming in and bathing him in light. “At least this way, I can find comfort in the fact that I’m on your mind in some capacity.”

Elain sucked in a breath. It was identical to her prior vision: Lucien, surrounded in sunlight, his red hair gleaming. His golden mechanical eye paled in comparison to the glow he gave off now. The anger and frustration she felt for the male in front of her faded away. 

If this vision was true, what about the rest of them? Danger and sadness, but also eventual joy and happiness. Could one be had without the other? Was it worth risking everything to find out?

“You’ve been so cold to me for so long,” Lucien went on, ignoring how Elain was looking at him. “You ignored me, tossed me aside—“

“You’re my mate,” Elain breathed, and everything suddenly clicked in her mind. Yes, it was inevitable that there would be death and grief and bone crushing sadness in her life. They had been ever present in her life before she was turned, when she was human, and those emotions would be with her, in some way, shape or form, in her current life. The only difference was that now she had someone to weather the storm with her, and make her remember that happiness was always worth the sadness.

“What did you say?” Lucien asked quietly, looking at her.

“You’re my mate.” The more she said it, the better it felt, settling in her body and cementing her to the present. “You’re my mate. There’s only you.”

Lucien stared at her. The only sound in the room was his mechanical eye, ticking and moving faster than Elain could track. 

“Don’t say things you don’t understand,” Lucien said quietly, staring at the ground. “To say that to me, it’s, it’s…”

“Admitting what we both knew and have been avoiding?”

Lucien took a deep, steadying breath. “How do I know this is real?” Lucien jerked his head to look at Elain. His eye was wide and Elain could hear the fast beating of his heart. “How can I tell if this is what you want?”

Elain cocked her head, staring at the open vulnerability sketched on her mate’s handsome face. “Because I’ve seen my future. I thought it couldn’t be real, that some things must be wrong, but…”

“But? But what?”

“They’re all real,” Elain said quietly. “Horrible, horrible, things, coming soon and also later, but great things as well. Happiness, a family—all with you.”

Lucien’s eye widened. “You’ve seen that? Us? Together?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not saying this because of what you’ve seen? You still have a choice in your future.”

She did, and her own heart sped up to match Lucien’s at the tenderness in his tone. Even now, he wanted Elain to have a choice, and wanted Elain to choose him.

“I think my visions have been urging me towards you for a long time. They know what I’ve been too afraid to admit.”

“And what’s that?”

“That I could be happy with you. That I will be happy with you.”

Lucien swallowed but didn’t move towards her, a wary look on his face. From what she’d heard about her mate from Feyre and Rhys, Lucien was never short on words, but his silence hung over their heads in the room.

Elain had already taken the first metaphorical step towards healing her relationship with Lucien—what were a few physical steps to convince him of her words?

Walking towards Lucien like he was a frightened animal, Elain stopped right in front of him. His heart was still beating fast—nerves, excitement, anticipation, she couldn’t be sure. 

“I still hear your heart.” Elain took one of Lucien’s large hands in hers—he was so warm—and held it against her chest, over her own stuttering heart. “Do you hear mine?”

Lucien gasped, his eye wide and mouth open as if he could finally hear the constant drumming of his mate’s heart, like Elain had heard ever since she emerged from the Cauldron. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but she swore she saw some type of shimmering cord wrap around Lucien’s hand from where it connected with her chest and traveled along his arm—

Elain lost sight of the cord entwining them together when Lucien leaned down and kissed her, consuming her mind, body and soul. 

It was blissfully silent in her mind for just a moment before a wave of images flashed before her eyelids, one after another after another, too fast for her to comprehend. It was like a lifetime’s worth of visions being crammed into the space of a few seconds and Elain gasped, overwhelmed with everything—

“Elain, what’s wrong? Breath, breath for me.”

And just as soon as they appeared, her visions fled at the first touch of Lucien’s touch, one hand on the back of her head, another on her lower back and rubbing soothing circles against her with his thumb.

“There, that’s better.” Lucien continued comforting her, and Elain realized what a fool she’d been the past years, to deny herself the sheer solace her mate provided her with just a few soft words and touches. “Was that…?”

“Yes.” Elain worked to steady her breathing. “I saw everything.”

Lucien paled. “Everything?”

Elain nodded, staring up at him. “We’ll travel… somewhere together. And Vassa will be wreathed in a crown of flame and feathers.”

“Elain—“

“Your father will rise to his full glory—”

“Beron?”

“No, the other one,” Elain snapped, massaging her temples. If only he could see. “And you’ll take your place next to him.”

“Other one? What are you—?”

“The man at the lake will fall and his birds released into the wind, but not without great cost.”

Lucien stared at Elain aghast.

“The Dread Trove will be restored, with the help of visitors from worlds so close to ours, but separated by the thinnest of veils.”

“Elain—“

“But we’ll be happy together, in the land of perpetual sun.”

“We will?”

“Yes, the two of us. You glow in the future. And we’ll have children—I’m not sure how many, at least two—“

Lucien’s lips stopped any more words from leaving her mouth. “Elain,” he chuckled against her, his lips kissing the corners of her mouth. “Let’s leave some things as a surprise, hm?”

“But what about—umph!”

Lucien’s lips slotted against her own again, his hands cradling her jaw, and Elain let her train of thought taper off. 

“We don’t need to worry about any of that now,” he whispered. “Let your mate take care of you, hm?”

Elain wanted to argue, that they absolutely should worry about what she had just witnessed, but then Lucien was kissing her again. His big hands trailed down her waist, then over her hips and behind her to cup her bottom. Whatever would come to pass would come—not admitting to her feelings and spending time with Lucien wouldn’t change that. 

So Elain twisted her hand in Lucien’s shirt and nipped at his lips and smiled in triumph when she felt him gasp against her. Her victory was short-lived: with one graceful swoop, Lucien carried her in his arms towards the closed door in his apartment.

As she suspected, it was a bedroom. Elain didn’t have time to study the room in detail, as Lucien tossed her on the bed then followed after her, climbing on top of her and resuming his heated kisses.  

“Is this alright?” he whispered, his lips trailing down her jaw, throat and collarbone.

“Yes!” she gasped as his lips skimmed her upper chest. She was on fire, and knew Lucien would only stoke the flames of her desire the more he touched her. “Off, off—!”

Together, they wrestled her dress off and soon, Elain was bare in front of her mate on his bed. Before, she might have felt self conscious—she’d only been with Graysen, and that was in a dark room—but she had no reason to be embarrassed, not when Lucien was staring at her like his world had just been shattered and made new in the span of an afternoon.

“Elain,” he croaked, glancing at her body before settling on her bright face. “You’re the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen.”

Elain smiled, her chest warm and beating, before Lucien was on top of her again, his lips against hers. She threaded her hands through his long hair and moved her hands over his neck, his back, his chest, anywhere that she could, just to feel more of his body. 

Lucien moved down her body, his lips licking and pecking at her sensitive breasts, her bellybutton—Cauldron, she had seen this too—before settling between her legs.

“Yes?” he asked, an eyebrow raised. Still checking on her, making sure she wanted this, wanted him. Lucien was breathing heavily, his eye darting to the curls between her legs and her heated face. He swallowed, like he was barely holding onto his restraint.

Elain wasn’t faring any better. “Yes,” she responded desperately, canting her hips towards him. Lucien needed no further persuasion: gripping her inner thighs, he wrenched her thighs apart and lowered himself between them.

The first, hot press of his tongue against her folds had Elain arching her back against his bed. The next swipe of his tongue against her clit made her grab Lucien’s head and keep him right where she wanted him. 

Lucien didn’t seem to mind; groaning into her cunt, Lucien kept licking and sucking, gradually inserting one, then another thick finger inside her tight channel and thrusting. Elain moaned her approval, too delirious with pleasure to form words. 

After nearly no time at all, Lucien crooked his fingers a certain way inside her, his tongue flicking her clit and his eye intense on her face, and Elain was coming. It was all consuming, but immediately her body craved more, more, more.

“Lucien!” Elain gasped, pushing his head away from between her legs, where he had been gently lapping at her swollen bud. “I need you!”

Lucien sat back on his haunches, breathing heavily but studying Elain. “You already have me, Elain.”

Elain felt her heart twist, knowing he’d given himself to her the day she crawled out of the cauldron and the mating bond snapped. But although Lucien had long ago given himself to her, Elain hadn’t yet done the same for him. She needed to reassure her mate that she wanted him.

Silently, Elain rose from the bed and helped Lucien discard his clothes. The more and more golden-brown skin he revealed to her, the warmer Elain felt; whether the heat was coming from Lucien or herself, she couldn’t be sure. 

Soon, he was naked, and Lucien’s glorious body was on display. Elain felt a sudden rush of pride: this strong, clever, handsome male was all hers, and no one else’s.

“Have you…?” Lucien began when he was over her once again, the tip of his cock brushing her folds.

“Yes,” Elain responded, shifting her hips to get comfortable. He was so close to where she needed him.

“Are you sure—“

Elain stopped his question with her lips, soft and sweet, against his. Lucien was on his elbows above her, his face inches from her own. Silently, she moved her hand over the scars on his face and traced them gently, then leaned up to kiss them lovingly. 

Shivering, Lucien pressed against her, working himself inside her tight channel. He went slowly, letting her adjust, until finally he bottomed out inside her. 

Elain felt full. Not just from Lucien’s length, but from it all meant for her: having someone with her, always, to defend her, protect her, care for her, and support her. She belonged to someone, and someone belonged to her. She could cry from how happy she felt. 

And as Lucien finally shifted his hips and began moving, his body and his heat above and within her, Elain felt grounded for the first time since she was turned. Her mind quieted, no longer tormenting her with what would happen, but blessedly blank, letting her focus on being with her mate. 

Elain was thankful; she didn’t want to miss any of what she was experiencing. Lucien was thick inside her, moving slowly but steadily. He was being so polite, exactly what she expected from the gentleman Elain knew Lucien was.

But Elain was selfish, especially now, and she wanted more.

“I need—“ Elain gasped, unsure how to communicate what she wanted.

Like Lucien could read her mind, he shifted one of her legs up against his hip and thrust hard inside her. Stars exploded behind her eyelids and Elain could hear the smirk in Lucien’s voice. “Is that what you needed?”

“Yes!” Elain moaned as Lucien leaned back on his knees, her leg still propped up against his body. 

“What else do you need, Elain?” Lucien crooned softly above her, increasing his pace inside her. He swiped a thumb over her clit.

“Yes, Lucien, more,” Elain begged quietly, quickly approaching her peak.  

“Ask nicely,” Lucien grunted. He was fucking into her hard now, hilting his cock fully inside her. Sweat rolled down his neck and chest. “Tell me what you need.”

“Keep touching me and stay with me, please.” She hadn’t meant to say that last part. After everything they’d been through, it was too much to ask of him. Elain expected Lucien to freeze, but it only seemed to spur him on.

“Anything. Anything you want,” Lucien groaned, his thumb furiously circling her clit and like an explosion, Elain came. It was like nothing she’d felt before; indescribable pleasure raced up and down her spine, pleasure that came from not just Lucien touching her, but the knowledge that he was hers, and she was his.

Elain was dimly aware of Lucien cursing to himself before he pressed his length inside her and came, collapsing on top of her as his orgasm petered out. He rolled them over so Elain was on his chest.

If Elain thought his heartbeat was loud before, it was nothing compared to the explosive drumming now. It soothed her, though, and Elain felt her eyes drift close after only a few moments.

“I’m sorry,” Lucien whispered against her temple later that afternoon after they had woken up for a second round of lovemaking. “For those horrible things I called you earlier. That wasn’t fair of me.”

“But they were true, as much as it hurts to admit it.”

“But that doesn’t mean I needed to say them.”

Elain sighed into Lucien’s chest and twined her legs with his under the thin sheet on his bed. “If you hadn’t said them, I’m not sure we would have ended up here, right now.”

“But surely you saw this coming.” Elain could hear the grin on his face. “Surely one of your visions—“

“My visions have told me quite a bit about the two of us,” Elain admitted, her cheeks red. “But didn’t you say earlier that some things should be a surprise?”

Lucien dropped a kiss to her nose, and Elain felt his heat suffuse her entire body with that one peck. “I did say that. I may not be terribly fond of them, but if they all concern you, then I’ll gladly let each day with you be a surprise.”

[kiatheinsomniac]

──── 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: a commission from the wonderful @magical-warlock who is always a pleasure to work with!! 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Kassandra of Sparta x Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: canon-typical depictions of violence and injury

You check on the bread in the fire oven to watch it steadily rise, seeing how it bubbles up towards the sky and begins to toast golden, covered in some aromatic herbs that you know will go excellently with the dips that you have already prepared in the kitchen, covered by a cloth to protect them from any stray insects that might find their way into your home while your attention is elsewhere. The weather has warmed significantly as of late and so you don’t really have it in you to work over a hot stove for long and cook with whatever meal you would have going in the pot or pan. Today, dinner would just be bread with an assortment of meats, cheeses and fruits - you had not the energy for much else with the hot weather making the air hang heavily all about you, making your moves slower, sluggish, sweat glistening upon your skin. 

You make your way over to the basin in order to dip your hands into the water, rubbing its coolness over your wrists, chest and the back of your neck in an attempt to cool your body. Oh, how you couldn’t wait for this heatwave to pass over so that the weather can return to its habitual state. You could only pray to Apollo and Helios that they would soon show mercy but in the meantime you praise Artemis and Selene for the kindness and reprieve of their feminine and silvery moonlight as opposed to their counterparts whose sunlight beat down on you like the brunt of a mighty warrior’s shield. 

You hum a little tune to yourself as you work around the kitchen, preparing food for when you know your sweetheart will be done with her contracts. You used to worry for her safety but Kassandra is the toughest woman you know: she stands for no disrespect, she’s built like an Olympic champion. You hope that her skills will one day get the two of you off this island once she has saved up the money or made the right connections. The two of you whisper about it at night beneath Nyx’s blanket of stars, the glittering stars of her creations the only witnesses to the fantasies that you share between your lips. She promises that she will give you the life you deserve, beyond the limited borders of Kephallonia, that she will get a boat large enough for the two of you to sail to the mainland on. She will buy land and you will tend to it while she works on contract to bring home money to you, eager always to come home to her beloved wife; for she promises the two of you will marry and all the Gods shall bear witness and drink to your union. 

You smile fondly to yourself as you recall the memory, the sounds of crickets chirping in the nearby foliage, the soft crashing of waves on the local shore of the island, the salt carried in the breeze. You wonder if you will one day live so far inland with your love that you will smell the spring blossoms more so than sea salt, that Persephone’s return will fill the air more than Posideon’s rule. 

Kephallonia’s statue of Zeus is mighty but you have heard travelling merchants talk of temples upon great mountains; to Athena, to Aphrodite, to Apollo. You gaze upon the blue sails of Athenian ships and you wonder just how busy the city of scholars may be, you wonder what Sparta’s wall-free borders must look like from a distance. You think of exploring markets with your love, with Kassandra, knowing that no matter where you are, no matter where you go, you will feel hope so long as you can hold her hand, feel your fingertips caress her callouses as she squeezes your palm and fingers in return. So long as she is by your side, you know that she and her glinting, broken spear shall defend your life.

You have known that spear for as long as you have known Kassandra as the two of them are inseparable – she even sleeps with it upon the bedside table. You have joked time and time again that it will soon fuse with her palm if she does not allow herself a break from time to time. That is something you often worry about when it comes to the woman who has possessed your heart: Kassandra is an incredible fighter, the best you have ever seen – you’d put drachmae on it – but she didn’t know when to rest at times. You do not worry that she will be outmatched but you do worry that she will walk into a fight disadvantaged by fatigue, thirst or hunger. It is why you do your best to assure that you keep her well-fed and rested whenever you can, to entice her to stay longer with food, gifts, open arms and the warm embraces they can give. She is determined to leave and create a better future for the two of you but that future cannot exist if she works herself to death before it can be realised. 

Once more, you wander over to the oven in order to check on the bread, covered in aromatic herbs and turning a beautiful gold beneath the fire. Everything else is ready and waiting in the kitchen, as are you, for Kassandra’s return. You close your eyes and a smile dances gently upon your lips as you think of your love, of the lives ahead of you beyond the shores of this little island. It’s always wonderful when your misthios comes home. She always has a smile on her face as she shows you the drachma she’s made. You both pour over how it brings you a little closer to the mainland, a little further from Kephallonia and you’d enjoy seeing her muscles unwind and relax as she sat down and ate with her. This is the image you have in your mind when you hear footsteps approaching the door. 

But the little fantasy of your habitual domestic life is shattered when she’s leaning on the doorframe for support and there’s blood all over her.

“Kass!” You lunge forwards to help catch her, looking over her shoulder to assure that she hasn’t been followed; though, deep down, you know that she never would have come home if she knew that she had enemies on her tail, even if she were in a worse condition than she already is. It had happened only once and she swore to you that she would ascertain it would never ever happen again. “What happened?! Come, sit!” You find yourself panicking but try to get a hold of yourself. Your other half is the one who’s strong for you all the time but now it’s your turn to be strong for her. 

“They brought a lot more friends with them than I had thought.” She winces as she takes a seat. You could wash up the pillows later but for now you had to stop the healing and get her cleaned up. You keep a box of medical supplies for the instance in which this very situation comes to be. You take out strips of fabric to use as bandages and add pressure and you bring the basin over to the table nearby Kassandra so that you can begin cleaning away some of the half-dried blood in order to get a better look at what you’re working with. 

But her armour was in the way and so you began to pull at the straps and buckles methodically to cast it all aside. The metal rattles against the hard surface of the floor as it piles up; like the pillows, it too will need to be cleaned later. “So eager to undress me, γλυκιά μου (my sweet)~” She flirts and you can only return her bloodied smile with a half-hearted glare. How can she joke in a time like this when you’re fretting over her health? She only gives a little laugh at your sharp look and, as much as you had been angry a moment before, it calms you down. If she’s alright enough to make jokes then you don’t need to worry so much and, instead of panicking, you can carefully focus on tending to the misthios who has stolen your heart.

The faintest of smiles ghosts across your lips that had previously been curled down in an anxious frown, quivering with worry for Kassandra. She knows you better than anyone else who walks the world – she knew that some humour would make you relax, would make you realise that you could calm down and approach this with a much more level-headed manner. She trusts you with her life, she trusts you to nurse her back to health so long as she can drag herself to your doorstep. You endeavour to prove that her trust in you and your abilities is not misplaced. 

You begin by wetting a clean cloth and trying to wipe away the dried blood from her olive skin, already littered with scars that spoke of her history like the etching of legends upon stone tablets. Her muscles glimmer with the water-thinned blood as you diligently clean her up. Once you determine that her wounds are no longer bleeding as much as they initially must have been, you set to mixing up a balm with some ingredients that you have on hand in order to help the healing process. You apply the sticky honey mixture to her wounds and then wrap them in bandages to keep them clean. 

Your anxiety completely dissolves as you walk through this process with her and she looks at you with the warmest brown eyes you have ever bore witness to. As you kneel by her side, wrapping her bicep in bandages, your head dips down to sweetly kiss a large scar that runs over her shoulder. As you tie off the bandage, you lift her forearm to your lips to kiss yet another scar there. You reach for another bandage but are stopped by Kassandra’s alloused and worn palm upon your soft cheek, turning your head so that she can take in your face. 

You must be her very own Hellen of Troy, she decided long ago when she first met you. Kassandra sees you as a blessing from Aphrodite herself who surely must have sculpted you in her image so that you can walk this world as a testament to the existence of the goddess of beauty, only able to exist thanks to her divine hands. Now, the roughened pad of her thumb tugs gently at your pillowy bottom lip, feeling the warmth of the mouth that had just pressed the tenderest kisses to her peach-coloured scars. 

What did she do to deserve such a thing as sweet and beautiful as you in her life? What had she done that the gods had decided to usher you into her life as a gift of the divine, a sample of ambrosia in this mortal world? The corner of her scarred lips quirk up into a smile and your eyes flit between hers as you try to figure out what’s going on in her head. Kassandra then leans in and kisses you lightly, almost experimentally. She treats you like you could crumble to dust should she be too harsh on you. But once her anxieties seem to quell, she pressed her mouth to yours with much more surety and kisses you in a way that gives you just the briefest glimpse of the bottomless well of passion she harbours in her heart for you. 

You pull away by only a few inches afterwards, your warm breaths mingling, Kassandra’s eyes glued still to your mouth, wanting your lips swollen gently with her kisses so that she can leave a lasting part of herself upon you if only to be able to say that she was lucky enough to be born in the same era of one so brilliant as you who had stolen her heart right from the vault of her chest. You can’t help the soft giggle that slips past those very lips her eyes are fixed upon. You will yourself to pull away so that you can continue to patch up your lover. 

When you are done securing her in honeyed balm and clean bandages, you strip the pillows of their cases and begin heating up water in the kitchen so that you can clean them. Her armour can be cleaned and polished in the morning, you haven’t the energy to do that tonight too. 

“Come, I was preparing dinner before you arrived.” You beckon your misthios into the kitchen where the bread is finished baking and has now cooled and you have a variety of cured meats and some cheese with sliced fruits and a salad prepared. Again, it is not the most extravagant meal but the heat of the season has made you more lethargic than usual and so you didn’t have it in you to cook over the searing heat of a fire. 

Kassandra sits right by your side, her toned thigh pressed to yours beneath the table as she begins picking at the food you’ve prepared. It might not be a full-on meal but she’s beyond thankful for anything you make for her, especially after the day she’s had and how incredibly you’ve just handled patching her up after she stumbled through the door so wounded. You’re the beat in her heart, the breath in her lungs, the very electricity dancing through her every nerve and she might survive without you but she knows she could never live. 

She recounts her day to you and your heart stutters as she gets to where she suddenly realised how outnumbered she was. She managed to get away – as you know with having her sitting and telling her tale to you over dinner – but she hadn’t got rid of them all and so she wanted to see you on your guard when she is to go out in the days to come in order to eradicate the loose ends of her contract so that she can collect her money, your money, she insists as everything of hers is yours. 

She watches you with enamoured eyes as you clean up after the two of you, like you so often do. She rises from her seat as you finish up and tucks some hair behind your ear, pressing her lips to your forehead. 

“Go relax for a while, γλυκιά μου (my sweet).” She insists, her words mumbled against your brow as her nose nudges against you and her hands gently caress the swells of your hips beneath her palms. “I’ll run you a bath, you deserve it. Let me look after you now, alright?” Your brow furrows slightly as she pulls away a little to look down at you part your lips to protest – Kassandra is the wounded one, not you. Her finger presses to your mouth. “Shh. Let me pamper you? It’ll make me happy to care for you as you’ve done for me; as you’ve always done for me.” You release the softest of sighs. 

“Very well. Don’t strain yourself though, ok?” She affirms your condition with a nod of her head and you go to relax in bed for a while, curling up on your side. You can hear Kassandra moving around to prepare your bath for you, water sloshing and drowning out the more distant sound of the waves crashing upon the nearby coastline of the island. The scent of lavender faintly wafts into your nostrils as you lay with your head upon the plush pillow, your arms tucked under it to cradle it around your head as you lay on your belly with your body turned slightly to one side. You face the door so that you can watch your lover when she walks through it to fetch you. 

You had been terribly worried when you saw her covered in half-dried blood as she staggered through the door and, in the moment, you hadn’t realised just how much you were panicking until you looked back on it now. But you have patched her up, shared a meal with her, are now relaxing in the bed you share while she returns the favour and draws a bath for you. After a short while, you hear her footsteps patter into the room and she perches on the edge of the bed next to you, her weight making the mattress sink down. 

The misthios leans down over you and presses her lips tenderly to your forehead, beginning to pepper kisses in trails like waterfalls from your temples down to your cheeks, keeping an even balance on either side of your face: first the left and then the right. The corners of your mouth tug up into a smile as your eyes slip closed and you simply enjoy the feeling of her soft, scar-dissected lips pressing to your skin, her breath fanning over your face in gentle exhales. Her fingertips dance across the curve of your jaw, so gentle it almost tickles and you feel one of her arms slide behind your knees. Her other strong arm works its way beneath your shoulders and you let out a breathy laugh as she hoists you up in her arms. 

Kassandra knows you’re strong and capable enough to manage yourself but she always loved to show you that you should never need to use those capabilities of yours, that she will always be there for you. Never again would she allow a situation to come to be wherein you need to defend herself without her there standing in front of you to protect you. Her hands glide over your body to unfasten your clothes, letting them pool in a puddle around your feet. She spends a moment grazing her fingers across your skin as though it were the finest foreign silk or velvet that she had ever been given the privilege of feeling. Her lips graze across the slopes of your shoulders as her hands caress the plains of your waist. You feel the warmth of her muscular body press to your back for a while and her nose nudges against your neck, her breath and eyelashes tickling you slightly. 

“I love you…” She breathes out, unsure what else to say. The words cannot quite carry the weight of her emotions, taking only a small portion of them and carrying them over to you but she cannot find a single comprehensible way of phrasing just what you stir up in her. She does not think that any set of words in her vocabulary can possibly be strung together in a way that can contain her love for you. 

She pulls a stool up beside the bathtub and helps you ease into the warm water. The heat soothes your muscles and melts away much of the tension that you hadn’t realised you were still carrying in your body. Kassandra coaxes you to lay back in the water, hair fanning about in tendrils around your head and framing you like a halo. The word ‘smitten’ does not quite describe how she looks at you. She looks as though you are the sun Helios pulls across the sky, the moon Selene draws across the night, the stars Nyx cast into the sky, the Spring beauty announcing Persephone’s return to her mother. She cannot picture a greater beauty for her mortal eyes to lay upon in this realm. 

Delicately, she wets your hair and caresses her fingers across your scalp, massaging in nourishing oils and layering your hair in soaps. Consistently, she plants kisses across your face and smiles down at you. Kassandra leads a life that is full of action and violence; so long as she has a contract, her days are fast-paced and with little rest. That is, right up until she comes home to you. The moment you are in her vicinity, life slows right down and it seems she is finally able to catch up and catch her breath. You are her sanctuary and should anything fatal ever befall you, the Greek world shall see Kassandra possessed by Nemesis herself to see that your justice is realised. 

Her calloused fingers smooth over wet, scarred skin just beneath your right collarbone. It was the sort of scar that would never fade, that would persistently push the misthios to assure your safety. She was careful today in making sure she would not be followed home but it was a behaviour she had learned as a result of her past mistake. Once in the past, she had not been so careful and as you tried to assess her wounds, the door had been broken in by those who had harmed Kassandra. She had watched in awe as you took up a spear and shield that your lover had previously only thought of as being for display right up until those men were sent running, stumbling over their feet due to their injuries. It was the one time that you had defended Kassandra against danger and not the other way around and she would never forget it. 

Her throat tightens slightly as she recalls how the spear sank into your chest and in that split second when she couldn’t quite see where you had been hit, she worried that your heart had been pierced, her heart, the one you had given her. Thankfully, you had managed to put enough distance between yourself and the assailant that it didn’t go right through you but the scar was deep, prominent and the wound had wept with great amounts of blood. Kassandra could not recall a time in her life that the coppery smell had ever made her feel as ill as it did when she worried she was about to lose you, her other half. 

Now, she leans down and presses her lips to the wound in the most passionate of kisses, her soft mouth pouring her love over your marred skin. She swallows hard as she withdraws slowly, so overwhelmed by the feelings you stir up within her that she’s beyond sure Eros has shot arrow upon arrow into her back in order to possess her with the profoundest love she has for you. 

“So many legends are full of lovesick fools,” She begins in a quiet but sincere voice, “and I once sneered at them for their stupidity. But now I understand. I’d go to the Underworld for you, I’d launch a thousand ships for you, I’d face the trials of Psyche. I could say I’d die for you but I’d rather live for you.” A smile and a little giggle plays upon your lips as she pours her heart out to you like this. You reach your fingers out of the water and stroke some of her hair behind her ear, wetting it in the process just so you can get a better look at her sun kissed face. 

“When did you become a poet, hm?” You muse. 

“You bring it out in me.” She returns your smile and leans in so that your breaths mingle once more. Your other hand reaches out of the water so that you cup her jaw in one palm while the other rests at the nape of her neck, keeping her close to you. Meanwhile her palm has pressed over your scar from the spear while the other is cupping your cheek, the pad of her roughened thumb caressing over your soft skin in the tenderest of touches. 

“I love you.” Your words fall out on a breath, barely above the volume of a whisper. 

“I love you doesn’t even begin to cover it.” She flashes you that smile which makes your heart stutter and your belly fill with butterflies every time as she pulls you in closer and your lips melt into a warm and sweet kiss. You yearn for this moment to last forever and yet you cannot wait to tend to her all day tomorrow so that she can heal and the two of you, hand in hand, can take another step closer to the life that you will have beyond the borders of this island. 

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[delopsia]

Flowers In November (4/4) Rhett x Reader

Word Count: 11,075 ♡‧₊˚ AO3 Cross-Post ♡⊹˚₊ Flowers In November Masterlist₊˚⊹♡ Warnings: Fem!Reader. Briefly mentioned abusive relationships (not involving reader), improper disposal of a horse's corpse, l-bombs, oral sex, physical and verbal altercations, blood, unprotected sex, inappropriate use of a firearm, lying to a police officer, multiple mentions of food and cooking.

Part 3 ♡⊹˚₊

The next morning is one of those days where Rhett has to be up before dawn, leaving you with a warm kiss and a promise to see you this evening. Always a promise, never anything less. Remarkably, you're not sore, only plagued by a dull ache, craving something to fill the emptiness you've been left with.

Your cowboy is happy to fix that problem for you, too.

God, you're worse than the jackalopes that appeared for the spring season. Raring to go at the drop of a hat, pouncing on him when he walks in the front door sweaty, those veins in his arms bulging, hardly able to keep your hands off one another. Rhett bends you over the truck's hood at least twice, ties your hands up with a new rope, and makes you beg to cum.

You catch him in the field once, sinking to your knees and suckling on his thick head until he's oversensitive and jolting away from your tongue. But he moans so pretty; you're unsure if you're addicted to his sound or the weight of his cock in your mouth.

"Are you sure you don't—hah!" Rhett whimpers as you swallow around him, barely able to stifle the sound, "you sure ya don't have a thing for doin' this?" Nose pressing into his belly, you hum, and that's enough of an answer.

On the anniversary of your first month together, Rhett builds that chicken coop, taking you all the way out to get those little Kettles. Four seems to be enough for just the two of you, two black, one white, and one a speckled white and brown. Poor fella looks like she's been spray painted.

"They sure are talkative," you muse on the way home, peeking into their box. They're all confused; it sounds like a dozen tiny kettles are boiling over.

"You'd be talkative too if a man picked you up and shoved you in a box," that wink...you're not sure if that's a suggestion or just a joke.

A part of you wants to find out.

Conveniently, you don't tell Rhett about the picture you take of him sitting in the coop with the nervous babies collected in his lap. That one can be your little secret.

Sometime in late Spring, Nyx wakes you up. Whistling various notes, high and low. Going on and on until you crawl out of bed to peek out the window.

There's nothing there, not that you can see, but she's never sounded the alarm without good reason. Whatever it is, it can't be seen from the house. You're not thrilled about it, but you tug on some shoes and head out the front door.

"What's got you so bugged?" Asking as you step off the porch like she can formulate a reply. And then you see it.

A snake.

The little fella has innocently wandered into the driveway for some sunlight. Bright green, perfect for blending in with the miles of endless grass. Nyx, however, does not see it that way, and there's no convincing her otherwise. Her ruckus gets Isabela's attention, nickering from further down the pasture by the cattle.

What in the world is Rhett doing down there?

From here, it's difficult to tell, but the cattle are scattering like they're being divided by something. That something could only be your cowboy, but why?

There is only one way to solve this mystery.

You walk down there.

Nyx doesn't follow, too dead-set on the offending reptile to do much else. A part of you hopes the little fella doesn't pass the fence because he certainly won't come back out alive. Not if the household menace has anything to do with it.

Getting closer doesn't bring you any answers, only more questions. Rhett's chasing the babies around, Isabela watching with visible amusement. Whatever this is, it must be normal because the mommas don't bother stopping him.

Entertained, you stop next to Isabela, petting her thick neck. Rhett takes a while to realize you've joined him, darting in and out of the cattle, trying and failing to catch a calf that refuses to be captured. Stopping short when he sees you, letting the poor thing run further into the herd.

"How long have you been standin' here?" Slinking over to you for a kiss, addicted to the core.

"Long enough," you're thankful he doesn't touch you with his muddy hands; you've had enough of scrubbing that off your cheeks. "What are you terrorizing the babies for?"

He bites his lip, glancing back toward the cattle, "I think it'd be best if I showed you."

And then it's back to haunting that poor newborn.

Back and forth they go, but this time, Rhett's taken his lasso. The baby successfully dodges his first swing, but the second catches the little guy around the neck. You wonder why he didn't just use that, to begin with.

Raising his hand in the air, Rhett motions for you to come over.

The little baby is rightfully terrified, but Rhett's notably careful not to touch it just yet, even if doing so would make this easier.

Right before your eyes, the strangest thing happens.

Rhett places one bare hand on the calf's back, and lights appear. Tiny, gold in color, dancing out from under his fingertips, swirling and tangling together as they run up to the calf's forehead. Spiraling on its head, creating tiny golden circles on either side of its head, right above the ears.

The bright spots fade, leaving tiny bumps of gold in their place.

Horns.

Golden horns.

"Did you just?" Sputtering. "You can do that?"

"It's some generational thing," nonchalant; Rhett lets the baby loose, watching as it retreats to the safety of its mother. "I touch a cow, and it sprouts golden horns; Perry reaches into a river, and out comes a kelpie."

Glancing toward the house to see what your kelpie is up to, "is that how Nyx came about?"

"Most likely, yeah," reaching into his pocket, he produces a golden horn, broken off on the end; one of these cows must not be having a good day, "gotta take this into town later, y'wanna come?"

Considering your last ventures out of the house... "I'd love to."

It's a date.

That afternoon, you find yourself perched in the passenger seat, gazing out the window as Rhett drives. By now, you've become familiar with this variant of town, but you still miss how lively yours was. The soft yellow lights, quiet atmosphere, and the scattering of mom-and-pop stores. Homey. Especially when compared to the many commercial businesses that occupy these buildings, banks, and office supplies stores. Everything here is owned by a big-name company.

You hate that every time you come here, you leave missing your old world.

"Would you ever come to my world?" You find yourself asking, gazing at Staplers, a variant of Staples that lies on the corner. In your variant, a bank occupied the space.

"I wouldn't mind visiting," flicking the turn signal, he turns left.

"I mean more like..." Maybe you should have phrased that differently, "coming to live there with me."

His hand squeezes the steering wheel a little tighter, but it's not out of anger or discomfort. More from thought, his brain's only way of decompressing as it works double time. "I'm not sure, to be honest with you," he says after a moment, "I want to say yes, but I don't...I've never left Wabang for longer than a day before."

If only life were your fantasy world, you'd sew these universes together and live happily ever after.

The store he's looking for is a small, pristine jewelry store that closely mirrors the one from your world. Aside from the name and employees, it's identical. Same jewelry, same cases, same gumball jar in the window. Next to it lies a short leather necklace bearing an antiqued golden disc and a sign. 'Guess how many gumballs are in the jar for a chance to win this necklace.'

Deja vu is hitting you like a freight train.

You played this same game with your mom in November, trying to win her this necklace. Only the disc was silver rather than copper.

How many were in there again?

"You tryin' your luck over there?" Rhett chirps, amused by your focus. You bet that necklace would look pretty on him.

Picking up the pen and a slip of paper, you fill it out. If you're remembering correctly, there should be three hundred forty gumballs. "Can't hurt to try," and you slide your entry into the box.

Only time will tell if you win.

Based on what the salesman tells you, this store gets most of its gold from Rhett's cattle. Crafting shiny gold rings and carefully designed necklaces, there's a matching earring set for everything they make. Most of it you wouldn't personally wear, even if it were gifted to you.

But in the corner of the case, there's a dainty ring bearing your favorite arrangement of stones. Perfect in every way, shape, and form. It's like someone peeked into your mind and crafted your ideal ring.

Rhett's watching your movements, finding entertainment in how you take it all in. "Do you see somethin' you want?"

Not for that price tag, you don't. You'd say as much too, but the salesman is coming back with a check. Your heart is thankful you don't see how much they pay him; you fear you'd faint depending on the amount. Their exchange is brief, so used to the routine that they only need a little talking.

"Baby," his hand comes to rest on the small of your back, "you sure you don't want that ring?"

You want it. God, you want it. But you could buy a used car for the price of this thing.

"I don't need it," stepping away from the case before you impulsively change your mind, "was just looking."

That ring stays in the back of your mind for a while.

You never intentionally think about it, simply coming up in passing. On one of your movie nights, the guy proposes to his girlfriend, and you wonder how you'd feel if he did it with that ring. It's too early to marry the cowboy, but your daydream is lovely.

A fantasy proposal from the perfect guy with an equally perfect ring.

"Watcha daydreamin' 'bout?" Kissing your temple, Rhett drags you back into reality. How long has the movie been over?

Unwilling to share your self-indulgent thoughts, you offer up your best alternative, "world domination."

You've never seen him roll his eyes so hard.

In the middle of May, a package arrives in the mailbox, mysteriously addressed to you. Rhett doesn't see it; you've long since hijacked the chore of checking the mail, eager for any excuse to take Nyx out for a stroll. The sender's address is unfamiliar, but you're met with something you recognize when you tear it open.

That goddamn necklace.

"Do you think Rhett would like this for his birthday?" You ask Nyx, receiving little of a response. It's close, maybe three weeks at best.

Of all days, Rhett picks today to approach you on your trip back from the mailbox. You have to stuff the package beneath your bra to keep him from seeing it.

"Slight change in plans, darlin'," he grunts, wiping the sweat from his brow, "my dad wants to see us."

Oh boy.

Meeting him halfway for a kiss; it's customary by now. "Do you know what for?"

Rhett can only shrug, "I haven't the slightest clue."

He holds on to Nyx's reins as you run inside to put away the mail, the only thing stopping her from attempting to follow you inside. These aren't the circumstances you hoped to come home to; rushing around the house to find a place to hide this necklace. He'll find it above the fridge, and there's no way you can get away with hiding it under one of the couches. You feel like a chicken with its head cut off.

Beneath the mattress is the only valid option. Whoever looks down there, anyway?

"Did ya get lost?" Is the first thing you hear when you step back outside.

"Took a wrong turn and ended up in Canada," sarcasm dripping from your tone as you climb back onto Nyx's back.

Like a puppy, Rhett's head cocks to the side, "Canada?"

Wait.

"Is there...not a country named Canada north of us?" You're not sure how to go about this. Does this world not have a Canada?

Rhett's eyes meet yours.

He crumbles.

His shoulders quaking with his laughter, so wildly proud of himself that he can hardly contain it. But, God, you could shove him off his horse.

"I'm sorry, darlin'," he simpers, looking oh so pleased with himself, "I couldn't help myself." Who could have expected that he had such a sense of humor?

You reckon it's from all those sunburns he's garnered.

"You'd better hope you don't wind up in my home world for a day," carrying that same energy he did, "I'd never let you know a moment's peace."

"I haven't known peace since you told me about the square pizza boxes," grimacing at the mention of those boxes, "how are you meant to play box-frisbee with a square?"

Some of you would like to argue that sane people don't play frisbee with pizza boxes.

The ride to his parent's home feels short now that you've done it so many times. Nyx knows the routine so well that she requires no direction; you reckon she could do it with her eyes closed. Sidling up to the gate so you can open it, mirroring the act when it comes time to push it closed again.

She does not, however, like the farm hand that comes to take her and Isabela into the paddock.

"She's gonna bite that boy one day," Rhett observes as you head in through the side door.

"Probably," but what can you do about an angry kelpie? Perry doesn't even mess with her.

Nobody is in the kitchen. Or the five dining rooms or the two living rooms. Wandering up and down the endless hallways, peeking into every room you come across. It's a wonder how this is only a house for two people. Who needs so many bedrooms and two massive libraries?

Upstairs brings you little luck, but at least you find Rhett's childhood bedroom by yourself. It wasn't there the last time, but now an old stuffed dog sits on the foot of the bed, barely capable of standing on its own.

"Is this your stuffed animal?" You ask when he steps into the room.

Rhett grins at the sight of the old thing, "yeah, that's Toast."

The name fits the little guy perfectly. A light brown body with dark brown feet and a spot on his left eye. Visibly loved, its fur matted and missing in places.

"I almost feel bad for defiling his home like we did," every time you look at this little twin bed, you remember that night, especially what happened the morning after.

There's no need for you to look to know that Rhett's cheeks are heating up; you can feel it radiating off of him in waves. Arms wind around your waist, burying his hot face into the back of your neck.

Bad move. Now you can grind your ass into him without effort, and his mouth is so close to your ear that it's impossible to miss that sharp inhale.

"Darlin', we don't have time." Maybe there isn't enough time to get him in you, but there's always time for...

In the blink of an eye, you turn and sink to your knees, nuzzling your cheek against the rapidly growing hardness beneath that zipper. Hands plant themselves on the dresser behind you, grasping onto the wood for dear life. Rhett's looking at you like you've grown a second head, but that eager grin cannot be easily washed away.

"Alright, you little monster," he breathes, "have it your way."

Gladly.

You're wondering if he will ever turn down a blowjob by this point. The closest thing to a no was the time you leaned over the bench seat of his truck during a long drive, and even then, he didn't say no. Instead, merely asked you to hold on until he could pull over on the side of the road.

The zipper of these jeans is finicky, the end of the pull tab has broken off, making it particularly difficult for you to get ahold of. Your nails can barely get around the edges, pulling it down until you've enough space to reach in.

One of these days, you'll take up sewing and fix this damn thing since Rhett refuses to throw them out.

He jumps when your hand closes around him, muttering something about your fingers being a little cold, but that doesn't stop him from twitching in your palm. Thick in your hand, already half-hard by the time you free him from those briefs. Rapidly reddening around that mushroom head, begging you to run your tongue along the underside.

"Goddamn," hissing under your teasing touch, "that feels good, baby, but I don't think we have ti—hah~!"

Your lips stretch wide around his length as you take him into your mouth, suckling softly on his head. There's already an ache blooming in your jaw, still sore from being stretched around his cock yesterday afternoon. Downright addicted to his heaviness on your tongue, to how his breath catches when you hollow your cheeks around him.

Those strong hips of his struggle to remain still; even as you take hold of them and try to force them still, they manage to wriggle. Slow at first, adjusting to the angle and working up a rhythm, pointing your tongue to massage the thick vein running along the underside of his cock. Rhett reaches behind himself, patting the bed until he finds something.

You can't believe what you've just witnessed.

"Did you just turn the dog around?" Popping off of him just long enough to speak, jaw feeling like jelly.

His hand falls to the back of your head, impatiently coaxing you back down onto him, "Toast doesn't need to see this."

This time, you've warmed up, a little more confident about sinking further down, until that dripping head reaches the back of your throat. It's difficult to suppress your gag reflex, but there's nothing better than the pitchy whimper that blesses your ears.

"Baby, baby," he stammers, struggling to keep himself from squirming right out of your mouth, "your throat, fuck."

Drawing back, you take a deep breath through your nose and sink right back down. Forcing your throat to relax as that familiar cock nudges the back of it, bordering discomfort. All of that is rewarded by those little whispered praises showered upon you like rain. How are your reflexes meant to bug you when Rhett's eyes flutter like that? Mouth falling open, soft moans dripping off his tongue.

Downstairs, a door slams, and familiar voices echo about the house.

Royal and Cecelia are here.

Writhing, Rhett tries to step back, but you plant your hands on his ass, holding him there. You're not down here for nothing. It only lets you pay attention to that leaking slit, flicking your tongue against it while he tries to escape the feeling.

"Parents are—" cut off by a strangled noise when you sink further down again, "my parents are h-here."

Stubborn, you go on, don't plan on stopping unless he directly tells you to. His body jolts like a live wire when you hum around him, acknowledging his issues, offering no solution. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, blurring your vision, but they're nothing more than obstacles.

Your nose touches the soft skin of his lower belly; Rhett clamps his spare hand over his mouth, the other gripping the back of your head as tight as he can without hurting you. Later, your voice will be absolutely destroyed, but there's no backing out now.

Here he is. Your big cowboy whimpering into his own palm as you suck him off in his childhood bedroom. Helpless to do nothing but take it.

Drawing back a bit, you swallow around him, completely, utterly mesmerized by how he trembles from it. Then it's back to working your mouth over his length, up and down, deep strokes reaching your throat. Never giving him a chance to recover from the last.

Even the hand over his mouth cannot fully muffle those sweet little whines slipping through the gaps of his fingers. Chest heaving like he's run a mile, unable to keep his eyes open any longer. That swollen cock twitches, forcing you to pull back before you gag.

He's close.

And it's back to paying attention to his tip, working the rest of him with your hand. One deep inhale. Two. Three. All you need is one more flick of your tongue against the underside of that head, and he cums, filling your mouth and painting your pretty lips with it. You're thankful that he came once this morning; otherwise, there would be much more to deal with.

Poor Rhett looks like he's just come from another planet, eyes half-lidded and dopey as he pulls you up to your feet. Shamelessly kissing the cum off your lips, in that cozy, post-orgasm neediness of his.

"Can't tell if you're an angel," kissing you again, "or a fucking menace."

You like to think you're both.

By the time you get back out into the hallway, Royal's stepping onto the floor, looking back and forth like he's looking for something. That something must be the two of you because he quits looking around when his eyes land upon your frames.

"Sorry if we kept y'all waitin'," motioning down the opposite direction of the hallway, "follow me; I need to show you something."

There's another study hidden at the end of the corridor, identical to the multitude of others that you saw downstairs. Only this one looks lived in. The shelves full of books, an enormous mahogany desk covered in knick-knacks, and miscellaneous papers with too many words.

Rhett's quiet next to you, toying with your knuckles. Too quiet.

Royal doesn't notice it, too busy flipping through a small book the size of your palm. Looking for something specific, but he struggles to read the tiny inscriptions that sprawl about the pages. Then he stops. Flicks back a page.

"I know about the hole that brought you here."

You'd rather if he walked over and decked you right in the face. "What?"

"It's a wormhole that can only be opened with the flower that it is connected to," placing a sticky note on the page, he hands the book to you, recounting the lore like it's everyday gossip, "you need the flower to go back home."

The book is tiny in your trembling hand, but the words on the page recount everything Royal told you. The flower is like a key; to go back, you need it to open the wormhole.

But there's a catch.

Rhett's already asking the question burning in the back of your mind, "and you couldn't have told her this before?"

"Because the last thing your mother needs to hear—"

"—hear what, Royal?"

How long has Cecelia been behind you?

Her frail body trembles like a leaf as she steps past you, not with distress, though. "What is the last thing you think I need to hear?"

Royal is silent.

"You two should head home," she continues when her husband refuses to yield, "I don't want you to be a part of this."

You and Rhett need no further instruction, scampering out the door like a pair of rodents. The door shuts before their argument continues, muffling whatever expletives Cecelia has to say to her husband. In your hand, the notebook feels like it weighs a million pounds, heavy to look at.

This whole time, you could have gone home.

"Are you okay?" Rhett asks at the bottom of the stairs.

"I don't know," it pains you to say it.

The book tells you that you could have gone back home simply by placing the flower petals on the ground. No spells, no stress required. This entire time. You could have been home. Your mother wouldn't be worried sick about what could have happened to you. Fuck, they probably think you're dead by now.

You could have dropped the flower on the ground that night, and you would have gone right back home.

Strong hands grip your arms, thumbs soothing circles into your skin; you're not sure when Rhett stepped in front of you, but he's here. Gazing into your eyes, searching for any scrap of emotion that can tell him what's happening and how he can help. Your lips are moving, trying to formulate words that no longer exist.

"It's not much, but...do you want a hug?" That watery smile suggests he might need one himself.

Yeah. Yeah, you think you'd like that.

The feeling of Rhett's arms around you never changes; you never want it to. Warm, cradling you into him as if you're made of glass, neck welcoming you as you bury your face into it. Where he smells the most like him. Rhett Abbott smells like petrichor and fresh-cut hay with the faintest bit of leather. All those things dancing together as old lovers do, well-versed in their craft, gracing you with such perfection that it makes your heart flutter.

You don't know what you would do without this man.

This big ruse of Royal's has cost you everything you have ever known. Your old life, family, home, everything you have ever known.

But it's given you something in return.

It's given you a chance to meet a man you would never have. A blue-eyed cowboy with his three-headed mare and a heart full of more gold than his cattle could ever produce. And you wouldn't trade it for the world.

And maybe that's why you're not as destroyed about this as you think you should be. Because your life, your home, is right here in your arms. It may not be perfect or how you wanted it to come about, but as you dissolve into laughter over Nyx's whistling and a farm hands mortified squeal, you know that this is where you belong.

"How's about we head home before Nyx eats that stableboy?" You've been spending too much time with Rhett; you're starting to talk like he does.

He catches it too, grins from ear to ear like a fool, "you sound mighty fine with my accent comin' out in ya'."

If he does that again, you think you might be sick.

That's all made up for when he serves as your personal guide to getting out of this maze of a home. Maps need to be posted on the end of every hallway, telling you where you are and where the closest exit is because, good lord, you do not know where you're going. The shortcut Rhett chooses leads you straight through the living room, where Cecelia sat you down and told you about Rhett's 'past.'

By the door sits that picture frame containing the old pressed flower, brown with age. Color barely clings to its petals, a hint of something purple.

"Rhett?" He stops, eyebrows raising, ready for your question, "what's this flower?"

"All I know is that ma's had it since before I was born," carefully reaching down to slide it out of harm's way, "and she'll skin me alive if I break the frame playing baseball again."

Little Rhett playing baseball. That's quite an image.

"Can you even catch a ball?" Teasing, as you follow him through the kitchen, you can already see Isabela and Nyx.

"Hardly," winking, "but I sure can catch a woman."

Do you have to resist elbowing him after he opens the door for you?

Yes.

Yes, you do.

You don't know how long you spend staring at this tiny notebook at home. With its two pages of instruction and little to no detail. 'Place the flower on the ground to go back, but know that you may only use the key once.'

It sits on the nightstand for days on end. Waiting to be picked up, reread, and placed back down in a fit of confusion and heartache. Your old life, but at the cost of Rhett and everything you've come to know.

What's worse, you still have no idea where the flower went. Nor do you know who took it from the vase while you were gone. You hate to admit it, but you've forgotten about that old purple flower and the others that sprouted that November.

Who could've thought that flowers at the end of November would have caused all this?

Your decision isn't much of one, all things considered, but it comes to you in the simplest of things.

There's a morning when you wake up alone. Not an uncommon feat, considering Rhett's lifestyle and your unofficial spoiled housewife status, but there's something different about this morning compared to all the others. Rhett's fumbling around in the kitchen, swearing up and down as something sizzles angrily on the burner.

The aroma gracing your nose is familiar, but you're too sleepy to identify it.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," like a magician, Rhett appears in the doorway, balancing a wooden tray, "keep that cute ass in bed, Missy."

It's not until he places it in your lap that you realize what he's done.

"You made me breakfast?" God, you feel like you're dreaming; your voice doesn't sound familiar.

"You make it for me all the time," he beams, kissing your cheek, "figured I'd return the favor."

The toast is slightly burnt, and the bacon could have been cut into smaller pieces before he cooked it, but it's breakfast. He's arranged the two eggs and the bacon to create a smiley face; you can't wait for the Kettles to start laying, so you don't have to resort to the store-bought ones.

And it's this.

You could wake up to this every day for the rest of your life and never get tired of it. You want to wake up next to Rhett every day for the rest of your life. You want to walk out that door every morning and be alarmed by the sound your new chickens make, to roll your eyes at Nyx and the things she gets up to.

You make it a point to ride over and leave the notebook on Royal and Cecelia's front porch. No words, no confrontation needed. It wasn't your decision to come here, but it's your decision to stay.

The necklace stays hidden below the bed for weeks.

Every so often, you take it out and run it through your hands, wondering if Rhett's going to like this. It feels like there needs to be more, though. Not personalized enough to be capable of standing on its own as a special gift.

What starts out as a list of ideas turns into days of rewriting the same letter over and over again. Never written the same, but always recounting all the little things, all the reasons why you're so hopelessly...

in love with him.

Those three words still feel foreign, uncharted territory that has yet to be explored. Or, maybe you've been exploring that dark, haunting forest this entire time and are now opening your eyes to it. The letters never feel perfect. In the moment, they are masterpieces written by the greatest scholars to have ever lived. But, the next day, they might as well be the ramblings of a drunkard.

Rhett's not helping your nerves, either, because he starts to act strange a few days before his birthday.

It's hard to miss the sound of his truck starting that morning; he returns midday. You don't think much of it until he tells you he was out looking for a specific supplement for Isabela. The thing is, you were with him when he bought four bags of it last week. Isabela may have three mouths, but she doesn't go through her supplements that quickly.

You've only got another day to write this letter; tomorrow is his birthday, but you've got nothing. You can't focus when Rhett is an hour late coming home again. Beat-up pickup missing from the driveway, and he's not answering his phone.

The necklace sits on top of your stack of discarded papers, menacing, taunting you simply by being there. It's as if it's read every word and knows the solution you're seeking but refuses to share.

Should have never entered the game for this damn thing.

When the front door squeaks open, the sun is halfway set, bathing the house in a plume of orange and red. "Sweetie?"

You don't want to acknowledge Rhett's presence, but you have no choice. The last thing you need is for him to come looking for you and find this necklace a day early. He's idling in the doorway, thumbs tucked into his pockets, afraid to walk across the clean floor with his boots on.

"You're awfully late," trying your best to sound upset.

Rhett fiddles with the ripped brim of his hat, "I know," taking it off, he motions toward the door, "I...have something to show you."

Truly, you don't know what the hell to say. Something to show you?

Despite the warm weather and summer right around the corner, you have to fetch a jacket and some shoes. There are a handful of jackets on your side of the closet, but you reach for one of Rhett's instead. Recently worn, still carries his cologne like a badge of honor.

Patiently, he waits for you in the kitchen, still toying with that tear on his beloved hat.

"You're fixin' to make that tear worse," you tease, stepping into your shoes, "and neither of us has the means to fix it."

"It's just a hat," at least, that's what he's telling himself; Cecelia's let it slip that it was an eighteenth birthday present from his old buddies. Of course, it's more than just a hat.

Outside looks no different.

You're expecting a new chicken coop or a third horse, but nothing has changed. Isabela grazes in the field like always; Nyx has her head submerged in the water trough, blowing bubbles. There are still four chickens; the barn doors are closed. Nothing is out of the ordinary.

Aside from one thing, Rhett's truck is inside the fence.

"Is it something down in the field?" Clearly, it must be something involving it since that's where you're headed.

Rhett winks at you, "you'll see."

There's takeout in the passenger seat, the name on the bag oh so familiar. Miss Molly's. But that isn't all of it; there's a second bag, unmarked, but you recognize it from the cafe the two of you visited when you first met. Still, you receive no explanation on what's going on or how he got this without you noticing. All he does is drive.

"Is this what you've been up to all week?" The silence is killing you, forcing you to voice your curiosities.

His eyelashes flutter like butterflies, fighting a smile. A light appears in the distance.

Oh.

Just below the hill lies a neatly laid-out blanket, surrounded with little golden lights and two big food trays that he's snuck out of your kitchen. Fake candles scatter around it, their artificial lights dancing like real ones. Wine glasses rest on the food trays next to a bottle of wine that looks far too out of place for a backyard picnic. Completed by a picture-perfect view of the sunset, the ocean of water on Perry's pasture shimmers with the sun's reflection.

"What...do you think?" Rhett squirms in his seat, your stunned silence driving him into unease. So this is what he's been planning all along. There aren't enough words in the English language to comprehend how much you love this.

But your smile.

Your smile is enough.

Slowly, Rhett starts to chuckle, "yeah?" God, he looks so proud of himself.

"I love it," and with that said, you lean right over and steal a kiss from his lips.

In the time it takes you to settle down on the blanket, Nyx's ghostly figure appears on the horizon, her ghostly figure moseying her way down to join you. No haste to her step, simply out for her leisurely stroll to see what you're doing.

"I have to admit," tapping the wine bottle with his fingernail, "I have no idea where this came from, but it was above the fridge."

You've never seen it either, but it looks like the kind of wine that costs a limb or two. The label tells you that only two thousand bottles were produced, but its history is written in a language you don't recognize. A gift from dear old mom and dad?

He's remembered your orders right down to the tiniest of details. Sauce, additives, sides, everything. You almost feel bad. You only remember what he got from Miss Molly's because you tasted it when you kissed him that evening.

"Thank you for doing this," you chirp in between bites of your pastry, finally beginning to process it.

Next to you, Rhett lights up brighter than the setting sun, but only briefly, because he's evidently forgotten something. "There's one more thing," patting his pockets brings up nothing, "shit, wait, did I leave it in that jacket?"

Cautious, you reach into the pockets of the jacket you're wearing. There's something heavy on your right, a smooth and cold object in your hand. Another broken horn.

"Nope, but that must be where I misplaced that thing," babbling to himself, Rhett rechecks his pockets, searching through all the nooks he can find. He's just beginning to stand when he spots it; a little blue box sitting in the grass behind him. "Close your eyes for me?"

Obedient, your eyes close, struggling to remain that way when he takes your hand. All you can focus on is how hot his palm is, burning up with an invisible flame.

"I know this isn't much, but..." he pauses, audibly licking his lips, "I want you to have this." Something cold settles into your hand. "So that every time you look at your finger, you remember."

Big hands curl around your cheeks, coaxing your eyes open. All you see is him, messy hair, and those ocean blues that never fail to wash you away in their beauty. The dainty object in your palm is long forgotten; you can't bring yourself to tear your gaze away from him.

Is this real?

"I can't imagine a day in my life without you," his voice breaks, gradually becoming watery, "and I promise you that as long as my heart's still beatin', I'm gonna be there." With every word, he shakes a little harder, trembling just like your quivering heart is.

Pushing your noses together, those final words tumble off his tongue, "I love you," breath hitching, "and ain't nothin' in this world can get between that."

It's the ring. The one you'd been staring at when you visited the jewelry store a few months ago. Even tinier now that it's in your hand, shining with the light of the sunset.

He went back and got it for you.

"Rhett," it's all you can say, tongue suddenly heavy, vision becoming blurry as something wet runs down your cheek.

But in typical Rhett fashion, he doesn't need words to understand what you're trying to tell him. Instead of waiting for you to force words off your lips, he kisses that tear off your cheek. One, two, three, four kisses that eventually lead up to your forehead.

He saves the best one for your lips, something borderline fragile that soothes the quiver in your bones; this is just you and Rhett, after all. There's no need to be so nervous.

The ring slides onto your chosen finger perfectly. You've got a sneaking suspicion that he must have measured your finger while you were asleep because nothing fits this well.

A large nose presses into the side of your head.

"Nyx!" Squealing, you push her nose away; how long has she been there?

"She's been tryin' to sneak up for a while now," Rhett's comment garners the mare's attention, turning her nosiness on him. Not even his cowboy hat can stop her from shoving her nose into the side of his head, knocking it clean off.

Here you have this perfect sunset and a picnic, and Nyx is terrorizing your cowboy.

There is only one way to memorialize this; you fish out your phone and take a picture.

"Wow," feigning hurt, "and you're not fixin' to save me? What next, y'gonna take my hat too?" Well, now that he mentions it...

Those eyes roll so far back that you can hardly see his pupils; his hat is still too big for your head, but you can see the appeal of these things.

As quickly as she had arrived, Nyx heads off, bothered by something further up the fence line. Probably that snake again. The little dude has set up camp here, and she's taken it personally.

The ring feels strange on your finger, your body not entirely adjusted to the sensation of it yet. You can't wait for a day when you feel odd without it on. There are so many details in the design, things you could barely see in the showcase; the longer you look at it, the giddier he becomes.

"I thought I was gonna explode when I had to hide it from ya'," he admits, popping the cork from the wine bottle.

"You're a horrible liar," holding your glass out so he can pour it easier, "buying supplements that you just got? Really?" Maybe it's your teasing that drives him to take the first sip, immediately making a face. Surely it can't be that bad.

"Heurgh," holding the glass as far away as you can get it, "that should have stayed on the fridge." It tastes like alcohol and cheap, grape-flavored medicine. The kind that's meant to taste good but feels like a personal insult once it touches your tongue.

Rhett's beyond words, face scrunched, "cheap beer would have been a better move."

Hooves thunder across the ground, a shrill hiss rippling through the air, livid. Nyx stops next to you. Her ears lay flat against her neck. Hissing for as long as her massive lungs will allow.

"Autumn?" Abruptly, Rhett stands, "how many times have I told you not to come onto my property?"

Autumn stands halfway down the hill. Frozen stiff now that you've laid eyes on her. The only thing that moves is the hair on her head, blowing idly in the wind.

And then she smiles. Toothy. "I found something that I believe belongs to you."

Reaching into her pocket, she produces a notebook. Suspiciously similar to the one you returned to Royal a few weeks ago. Nyx fusses loudly as she heads down the hill, holding out the notebook for you to take.

Your fingers close around it, but she doesn't let go.

Her eyes meet yours, "you don't belong here."

Purple hits you in the face.

What?

Blinking, you rub at your face, brushing whatever she threw onto the ground. She's already halfway up the hill, heading back to where she came from.

Overhead, thunder rolls, small waves rippling through Perry's pond. How long have those heavy clouds been up there? Surely they weren't there this entire time...right?

"You alright?" Rhett's asking, dusting something from your shoulders, "what are these? Flower petals?"

The hair on the back of your neck stands up as an invisible gate squeals open, deep, heavy. Bringing with it the rain. Heavy. Thick sheets of white that beat against you with such incredible force that it hurts. Wind howling like coyotes, whipping around your bodies. A hurricane in the blink of an eye.

Flower petals.

Purple flower petals.

"She opened up the hole." Your voice feels detached. Like it's already been sucked away.

As if burned by the ground, you jump away from where the petals lie. A black goo bubbles up from beneath the Earth. Rhett's got ahold of you, pulling you back toward the safety of the fence line, away from it. Neither of you can speak. What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?

Lightning strikes the ground beside you, an ear-splitting crack ringing out.

"I've got you, I've got you," Rhett's pulling you into him, barely audible over the wind, rain, and the angrily splashing waves from Perry's side of the fence. Even the Kelpies dislike it. Fleeing the waters. Whistling. Hissing.

Hands tremble as you cling to his body, holding him tightly. You can see the hole. A dark pit opening up from the ground. Widening. Feels like it's coming toward you.

"Please don't let go of me," quivering like a leaf, you squeeze as close to Rhett as possible.

"'m not gonna let you go," he promises, stepping further down the fence line, away from the hole, "I promise, baby, you're not goin' anywhere."

The candles that sit by your picnic spot are the only indication of where you are, faithfully glowing. The rain is so thick that you can hardly see a few inches from your face, even when Rhett's old hat blocks most of it, the water draining off it like a damn gutter. By your feet, water sloshes in from Perry's side, the tide rising angrily.

"It'll close," stepping in tandem with you, Rhett's a brick wall between you and the elements, shielding you from them, "we're okay; we're not close to it."

Gradually, the lights become closer, until finally, you're standing right on top of your ruined picnic. Shivering, squirming into Rhett's chest to escape the cold.

"We're okay," he repeats, blurring his face into your neck, "it can't get to us."

For a moment, your world goes dark, quiet.

Pain explodes in your back. Tumbling head over heels as something sweeps you off your feet. A tidal wave right off Perry's farm. Something sharp nips at your exposed skin, tangling around your legs. Lungs burning. You can't figure out which way is up or where you're moving.

Until something seizes you by the collar. Rips you up to the surface.

"Are you okay?" You hear Rhett before you see him. Gasping for air. Struggling to open your eyes. He's yelling your name. Capturing your attention.

On their own, your hands grab on. Grasping each other's forearms with everything you've got. Your right arm stings. You can't move it, don't know why.

"Rhett!" Fighting against what's latched onto you.

Your hands are slipping. Too wet. Too much movement.

"I'm not letting go," coughing, he grabs onto you with his spare hand, holding tight, "I promise."

Wriggling, your arm slips free of what's holding onto you. It stings. Fresh cuts oozing blood. You don't care. You're grabbing onto Rhett, and you're not letting go.

Again, you pull yourselves closer, fighting the water that has swallowed you up. There's so much of it. You can't see where it ends.

"See?" Rhett's wet nose bumps into your cheek, "what did I say?" He hasn't let you go.

This time, you see it before it hits. A large, towering wave aiming directly at you. Time seems to slow as it begins to fall, gravity carrying it back down. The light in Rhett's eye fades, face falling.

He knows.

You know.

Like a heavy fist, the wave strikes you. Rhett's got your wrist in an iron grip, bruising. Your nails claw at his skin, scrambling for more purchase. The water slips through your fingers, working its way into the gab.

It rips you apart.

And the wave carries you back under. A pair of invisible hands dragging you below the surface. You're too weak to fight it. No matter how hard you kick and flail. It only pulls you further down. Throwing your body around like a rag doll.

A whistle ripples through the water.

Nyx.

Her legs no longer look the same. Instead, they're a mass of vines. You can't see them, but you can feel them. Wrapping around you. Pulling you into her robust and sturdy body. She's turning around. Attempting to retreat to safety on dry land. But it's not enough. Darkness encompasses around your vision as you're momentarily thrust out of the water.

Rhett cries out your name.

and you

fall.

You think you might fall for the rest of your life.

The hole is silent, but your head is loud. Rhett's voice bounces around your skull like a spring. All you can hear is him crying your name. What once was mind-numbingly loud slowly becomes fainter.

No,

no,

no.

"Rhett?" You call out.

This is just a dream. This is all just a big, fucked up nightmare. You're still in bed. Rhett's right there with you. That's not Nyx. That's Rhett. That's him who's wrapped around you. Snuggling you into that big chest until you can wake up from this hell.

"Rhett!"

But he doesn't come.

He can't.

And then that strong gust of wind catches you, blowing you back toward a blinding light. You wish it were bringing you back to your cowboy. Your boyfriend. The man you're so, completely, utterly in love with.

But as Nyx's body starts to warp, muscles painfully contorting and bones clicking into place, you know you're not returning to that magical world. Her whiny is foreign, pitchy, and unlike any sound, she's ever made.

Rhett. Your home. Is gone forever.

All you see is green as you come crashing into it with a painful thunk. Nyx lands next to you, and for a moment, her pained squeal is enough to make you forget.

"Are you okay?" Rubbing her neck. She seems confused by her own noises but gets up to her feet all the same. Not minding any of her legs. Hasn't gone lame. She's okay. Wetly, something hits the ground nearby, startling both of you.

Rhett's hat.

Absolutely soaking wet, but it's his hat. Same tear and all. As you bend down to pick it up, you hear your name. And there, you see your mother's face for the first time in months.

You've been missing for nearly seven months. Not one person believes your story.

They try to take you to the hospital. You've disappeared without a trace and reappeared months later with a horse that nobody has seen before. Nobody hears your ramblings about a cowboy who doesn't exist; the girl stitching your wounds suggests drugs, but that doesn't explain Nyx. Or the cowboy hat that they so desperately want to admit as evidence.

Now, you realize that you got caught on Rhett's barbed wire fencing. Mauling your skin, some places require stitches, but you can hardly feel a scratch. How are you meant to pay attention to such a thing when your heart aches for a man out of reach? Who doesn't exist in this world?

Your mother doesn't know what to think when you retell her the events of the past couple of months. You don't think she believes you when you talk about the golden-hearted cowboy who took you in, who you slowly fell in love with. She tries bringing you to a doctor, but they tell her you're fine.

The phone in your pocket is the only indicator that you may be telling the truth. It carries the only images of Rhett that you have, the only proof of his existence. You can hardly look at them, the phone lying hidden in your bedside drawer. Every time you see his face, your heart begins to ache with something you can never soothe.

"This was the night before I came back," you try to tell her one afternoon. The image of Nyx with her nose shoved into Rhett's ear shines brightly on your screen, that big old smile on his face that you'll never see again.

It's the first time she's seen him, and she has no idea what to say. You suppose you can't blame her.

The horn that Rhett forgot in your pocket is a miracle in disguise. As much as it pains you to do it, you make the call to sell it for the gold. It sells for more than it's worth because it's connected to a missing persons case. Come to find out, bidders will do anything for a piece of mysterious history that isn't theirs.

With the money, you buy the house and the land around you. It may not be the Abbott ranch you knew, but you'll be damned if you don't try to keep it together. A few locals volunteer to help build a barn for Nyx; it's constructed a month after your return. With two stalls. One nameplate has the name Nyx inscribed on it, and the other, Isabela. Nobody understands the reference.

And that ring.

You wear it around your ring finger. To anyone who asks, you tell them you're married to a man named Rhett. He'd probably roll his eyes if he walked in and heard you saying that, but you don't know how to say that your heart may never belong to someone else. You know it to be true when a friend surprises you by bringing along a man she thinks you'll be interested in.

He's nice, but he's not Rhett. He doesn't take his shoes off at the front door because he doesn't want to muck up your floors. Doesn't enjoy your cooking as Rhett did; the way he looks at you is nothing compared to how your cowboy did.

Rhett's hat sits on a special holder mounted to your bedroom wall. It's bad luck, you know, but you always place it on the opposite pillow when you go to bed; it's the closest thing you'll get to having him. Bad luck cannot get to you when you've nothing to lose.

There are flowers in November.

When you go to bed, the backyard is nothing but green, not a thing to be astray.

This time, you don't mistake them for Autumn leaves because this time, your heart cannot be fooled by their tricky colors. A sea of red, yellow, and orange cover every inch of your property. The simple sight of them has your heart stopping in its tracks.

Nyx thinks they're lunch.

Your mother thinks it's crazy.

You hunt all afternoon, but you find no purple flower. Only yellow, red, and orange. "I don't suppose you would know why these flowers only come in November?" You ask your unruly mare as she munches away. The vet says they won't hurt her, but this consumption of her's feels excessive.

Her tail swishes, the closest to an 'I don't know' that you're going to get.

As the sun sets, you decide that a ride is in order. You just went out for one yesterday, but you justify it by telling yourself that you've got nothing to better to do. This ride has nothing to do with your selfish hope of finding another purple flower.

Briefly, you consider wearing Rhett's hat, but the last time you wore it, the damn thing blew clean off your head. Too big to fit. Instead, you squirm into his old jacket; it no longer smells like him, but wrapping yourself in it feels like being wrapped in his arms. Big. Warm. Secure.

Nyx fusses at you as you get her ready; it's still strange to hear her make such horse-like noises, but they're her new favorite thing. So excessively loud any chance she gets, always so excited to make some noise. Never quite sounds natural; her whinnies sound more like chirps.

You wish Rhett could be here to see you doing all this by yourself.

You take only one route; a worn-down trail of grass marks it. Give it a few years, and you may have a proper dirt path. Looping down where the fence line should be, heading straight for the North pasture, where that old rickety house lies.

Walking up to it is like walking up to an old friend. You know these walls better than you know yourself; can hear the secrets they tell. Nyx's ears never fail to prick at the sight of it. Of course, she would never admit it if she were a human, but you can tell she misses her friends too.

Even Rhett, though she probably hasn't forgiven him for the fireworks.

And then it's back down the driveway that doesn't exist, but you know it so well that you can almost see that path of dirt and rock. Following the road until you can locate the shortcut back to your home, just around where Royal and Cecelia's home should be.

These flowers cover every inch of the land like a big blanket. Nyx is determined to snatch a few bites; they must taste good; you'd give them a try if you didn't fear what they'd do to you. For all you know, eating too many may also turn you into a flower. It gets a little warm, forcing you to push your sleeves up.

Scarring sprawls across your right arm, where you became tangled in that barbed wire. The skin on your legs looks much of the same. The doctor says it'll fade with time, but you're not sure about that. Even the sight of it pains you, but your heart doesn't know if it wants them to stay or vanish forever.

Darkness has fallen by the time you get back. Nyx is ready for you to get off, eager to return to what she was doing before you interrupted.

"Will you hold on?" Nyx is so dead set on getting that saddle off that she's decided to start 'helping.' Reaching back to bite at what little she can grab. Asshole. Only serves to make your job harder because God forbid she gives you an easy day.

"There!" Throwing your hands up when you're done. "Are you happy now?"

Very, actually. She looks at you and darts out into the connected pasture, trotting along the fence line. All that fuss, and for what? To roll in the damn grass until she changes color again? Then she stops short; ears pricked as she stares toward your house. But there's nothing there; your porch light is bright enough to illuminate most of the backyard, and you don't see a damn thing.

Something thin swooshes through the air and falls around you, tightening around your waist.

...no

Turning, you come to face a dark figure who has stepped out from the side of your barn. The barn flood light shining behind them makes it impossible to see their face; all you can see is a dark silhouette. Your breath catches in your throat.

That smile.

That goddamn smile.

You're hallucinating. There's no way that this is what you think it is.

But then tears well in those big blue eyes, and he breathes your name so softly that it's lost in the breeze that blows past.

One step forward, and you find yourself crushed in his arms, completely lifted off the ground. This doesn't feel real. But only Rhett Abbott smells of petrichor, fresh-cut hay, and leather. Only Rhett has arms that hold you like you're made of glass, and only Rhett looks at you like you've hung the moon and stars in the sky.

There's no way.

"How...?" You refuse to believe this is happening, but Rhett's cheeks feel very, very real beneath your palms.

"I made you a promise that I intend to keep," his voice barely a whisper as he speaks, like this will end if he says it too loudly, "didn't I?"

The ring on your trembling finger glistens.

And for the first time in forever, he kisses you. It's too shaky to amount to much, a locking of trembling, unsure lips that don't know what to do with themselves, but it's everything you could have ever asked for.

From around the side of your house emerges Isabela. One-headed, looking somewhat confused, until Nyx whinnies, and she bolts toward the fence. Yanking her lead out from the hands of...

"Cecelia?" She's the last person you expect to see, but there she is. A little worse for wear, her hair is a mess, but it's her.

There are so many things to be caught up on; you can see it in both of their eyes, but now, Isabela is about to take down the gate. There's no stopping her, the best you can do is one it up and let her bolt inside.

"It's weird seeing her with only one head," you can't quit looking at her; can't quit looking at Rhett and his momma.

"I don't think I'll ever recover from watching them morph together," Rhett's nose scrunching as he recounts it. His hair is shorter, barely long enough to curl around his ears.

They begin to talk as you head into the house. You really wish you'd cleaned because the place is a wreck, but neither of them seems bothered. Rhett hardly even perceives it; all he sees is you.

As it turns out, the land you live on once belonged to Cecelia's father, and that flower in the frame was the one that brought her to Royal's world. She, like you, woke up one day to find flowers at the end of November.

"I picked the same flower when I was twenty-three," Cecelia tells you, sitting across from you in the armchair, "I had a whole life, a family here, just like you. And in a couple of seconds, I lost all of it."

Rhett squeezes your hand as if he's reassuring the both of you that this is real; it's so strange to see him sitting on your couch.

"Royal knew there was a way for me to go home," she croaks, biting her nails, "and for forty-three years, he kept that to himself." Vaguely, you recall their argument when you were given the notebook.

Shortly after your disappearance, the police started investigating Perry for the death of the horse. Ransacking the ranch for evidence of the crime. Dogs found some of the pieces Rhett buried, and all of a sudden, he was the prime suspect.

"I gave up on coming back a long time ago," weakly, she smiles at her son, "but Rhett has been so hell-bent on finding you that it made me want to try again."

Those pale cheeks light up something fierce, bright red, as he buries his face into your shoulder. Around his neck lies a thin leather necklace. It's turned around, the golden pendant resting on the back of his neck.

His birthday present.

God, how have you managed to forget about it?

Cecelia's dead on her feet, more than happy to trudge off to the spare bedroom for the night. You think she's snoring before she even hits the mattress.

Just as you shut her door, Rhett sneaks up behind you, wrapping his big body around yours as he peppers your cheek with kisses, "you wouldn't happen to have my favorite hat, would ya?"

Rather than speaking, you take him by the hand, guiding him into your bedroom, and it's so, completely, utterly mind-boggling to see him standing in this room. The room that you never thought he'd get to see.

"On a normal day, I'd call you crazy for puttin' this on the bed," lifting it by the crown, he places it on top of his head. And all is right in the world. "But I'd like to think today isn't a normal day."

The mattress squeaks as he sits on the edge, opening his arms for you to step into. You've almost forgotten what it feels like to have these arms wrapped around your waist, but nothing in this world can make you forget what it feels like to see that loving grin as he looks up at you.

"You found your necklace," you mutter, turning it around to sit correctly on his neck.

"I'm glad you weren't there to see me ballin' my damn eyes out over it," but that watery grin tells you that you may witness it anyhow.

A tear escapes; is quickly wiped away by your ring finger. He catches the glint of the stones in the light, grins, and presses a kiss to it when he finds the chance.

"I hope you didn't find that stack of letters," you never did finish them, did you?

"I read every single one," and then Rhett curls his hands around your cheeks, guiding you down to press your foreheads and noses together, "I love you too."

It's not the story anyone is expecting, never was the fairy tail that you thought you'd live through, but you wouldn't exchange it for anything else.

The police at the station are awfully surprised when a missing woman steps in to reclaim her identity forty years later. Just as surprised as you are when you notice two backpacks downstairs, full of every bit of gold they could carry. Rhett thinks it's hilarious because why would he ever leave his gold to his father and brother?

"Gotta take care of my baby, right?" He chuckles, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek. He's brought his other baby, too. Toast. His little head poking out the top of the bag.

In the Spring, you hire a contractor to rebuild a little, rickety house out on the North pasture, with a barn and a gravel driveway that leads to the road. It takes months, but the final product is so spot on that you can hardly tell a difference. Except for one thing; the addition of two more bedrooms.

Cecelia takes up a job at a local store and insists on paying rent for your old house because she stays when you move out. She's got the opportunity to move to other places, but she's content to keep that old place warm. Of course, he'll never tell her, but Rhett takes the rent money and hides it in a basket above her fridge.

She'll find it eventually.

Rhett's the same man you fell in love with. This alternate world of yours takes a while for him to adjust to. Square pizza boxes are his nemesis. The altered street names confuse him. More than once, you have to come out and help him navigate this crazy new world.

He loves you the same way he did in his world. Kisses you before he leaves and as soon as he returns. He kisses your scars, too. Vows to never use barbed wire fencing again because he hates how it hurt you. You like to think that the scars fade because of how much he's loved on them.

There are flowers that November.

Rhett thinks they're Autumn leaves, freshly fallen from the old Oaks, but those trees shed the last of their leaves weeks ago. Just before December's start, flowers decorate every inch of your yard, splotches of red, yellow, and orange.

Something tells you that they'll do this every year, that you're going to wake up every November to find them. Dainty petals waving their hello's, in the same way as old friends do.

Nyx and Isabela think they make a fantastic lunch, eating them by mouthfuls. So do the new herd of cattle, a small bunch of heifers that come in every color. They're still skinny; Cecelia found them in a backyard auction, and Rhett's big old heart broke at the sight of them. Eleven more mouths to feed isn't that bad.

You're about to start cooking dinner when you get a phone call from Rhett, asking you to meet him in the pasture when you get a chance.

"Do you see this?" He chirps once you're within earshot.

A few paces away from his feet lies a dainty purple flower. Remarkably short, its petals fluttering in the wind.

"I see it," you wish you didn't, but you do.

For a while, all you can do is stare at it. Waiting on something to happen, but it never does. Rhett tosses a bucket over it to prevent the cows from thinking it's dinner. And then he waves you on to follow him.

"Where are we going?" You find yourself asking as he takes your hand into his own.

He smiles, big and wide. "We're goin' to the store and gettin' a bag of concrete mix."

There will always be flowers in November.

Just like there will always be a handsome cowboy to take you by the hand and whisk you off your feet. 

[babyjakes]

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event masterlist

.・。.・゜ ✫ ・.・✫・゜・。.

prompt | asking for help

pairing | t*ny stark x assistant!reader

warnings | T*NY STARK TW!!!, me not knowing how to write tony at all lmao/maybe ooc tony bc i don't know if he'd act like this, tony's a science/tech guy and i am NOT so all of the math computers inventing jargin is pure and utter bullshit like i literally pulled it out of my ass, i don't expect this piece to do well (especially with my demographics) but i don't really care bc it's for my bestieeee<333

.・。.・゜ ✫ ・.・✫・゜・。.

an | the way i just wanted to troll the shit out of this fic but i couldn't bc i want to be a good friend to @starksbabie lolol- so here it is!! my first and probably last tony piece ever. when i had the idea of dedicating a few pieces through whumptember and kinktober to close friends, nyx was the first gal i thought of. and if you know our relationship at all, you KNOW our (pretty much only) point of conflict is tony lol. so as an ode to her, a favor to the tony fans, and a brutal therapy exercise (lmao), i made myself do this. and it's probably shit, but hey. i did it.

.・。.・゜ ✫ ・.・✫・゜・。.

"Yeah, yeah- we know. We've practically got a cap on it already. Y/n's just gonna run over some finalizations here with me; we'll have the prototype over to you by the end of the day."

Chewing on the end of your pen, your eyes ran for what felt like the millionth time over the jumble of notes in front of you. Zeroing in on the lame attempt of a diagram you had managed to scribble out, you tried to hold in your groan as you heard your boss ending his call.

"Alright smarts, better give me what you got. The team over there's been riding my ass all day- they're not in the mood to be patient." When you shot the dark-haired man a look, he chuckled lightly at you. "Oh- what's with the face? Don't tell me you're grumpy. I told you to take lunch like an hour ago."

"Whatever. No time to eat," you sighed, clicking your pen shut.

"Nope, but apparently enough to make a snack of the stationary," he nodded at the chewed end of your writing utensil as he rolled his chair over from his desk to yours. "Wanna show me what you came up with?"

"Not really," you mumbled, keeping your gaze lowered as the man peeked over. Raising an eyebrow at you, Tony studied your work.

"Doesn't look half bad, they're gonna like the specs. It's a good thing you're doing the drawing and not me. But I thought we discussed this part..." Reaching a finger up, he pointed at the box you had left empty. Setting down your pen, you let out another huff of air, running a hand over your hair to smooth it back as you finally let out a long-overdue groan.

"I couldn't figure it out," you admitted, crossing your arms in defeat. "You can check my math, but I did it over. Twice. The model won't run, when I plugged it into the simulator I got an error code. We can't send it off like this."

"Oh?" Tony asked, eyes glossing over the notes and calculations you had written out in the margins of the page. "Well that's fine, it must be something in the-" His finger moved to point to a table, only earning a shake of your head as you sighed again.

"Tony," your voice was soft, almost approaching vulnerable as you finally lifted your eyes to look over at the man. "It's the whole thing. I made a mistake somewhere back in the beginning, and I can't figure it out. And now I... whenever I look it over, I just... everything..." To your surprise, as you stumbled over your words, he only appeared to listen patiently as he leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Tony... can you help me? I really don't fucking get it."

Sucking in a breath, you waited. Knowing your boss's usual disposition, you weren't exactly expecting a compassionate response, so you were surprised when he simply offered a nod. "Sure thing, smarts. D'you have your original drafts? That'll probably be where we need to look if you're thinking it was something way back."

You paused for a second, blinking. "What," he asked, "do I have something on my face? That cupcake Pepper brought me in was more frosting than it was red velvet."

"No, sorry," you tried to snap yourself out of it, shuffling through the mess of papers in front of you until you found your original outline, gingerly offering it over. "I just... I don't know. I was expecting some disappointment, maybe."

"Nah," he shook his head as he took your papers, "to be honest, I have no idea what the hell's going on with this thing, either. I've been following your lead, and you've done a pretty bang-up job, minus whatever this hiccup is. No disappointment here, I'm sure between the two of us, we'll find the error."

Trying not to get too hung up on your surprise, all you could do was nod as Tony began to read through your notes. "See? Brilliant stuff you've got here," he commented, waving the paper in his hand. "Even the cat doodles at the bottom, this stuff's the work of a pure genius."

.・。.・゜ ✫ ・.・✫・゜・。.

[unrealization]

@ochazos liked for a starter from Sanada!

There was always a limit. In boxing, that limit was the length of his arm. He could never hit anything outside that range. Then there were more extreme, fundamental limits. Like the speed of light. Nothing could go faster than the speed of light.

Akihiko Sanada had just been pushed past one of those fundamental limits. At first, he rationalized it. Surely it wasn't him. He'd thought he'd seen him out of the corner of his eye so many times, maybe this like that. So he kept looking. It was him. Makoto Yuki. He'd just parted ways with some other high schoolers Sanada didn't recognize him.

He rationalized it again. Surely it was just someone who looked like him.

He overheard one of the other kids call him Yuki-san.

It was him.

He did something that felt like rationalizing, but wasn't. He figured that Yuki must not have actually died, just like with Shinji. He remembered his funeral. He remembered all those awkward reunions where his friends tried to avoid mentioning his name. He remembered Aigis' sad eyes looking off at the ocean. He remembered the weight of Nyx on his back as he was driven down. Yuki ascending. Those broken words that had escaped his lips that day.

"Not again!"

Yuki was dead. His being dead was burned into each and every one of them. And yet he was here. Alive and well. The floodgates open. He's a child again, trying to push past the adults to run back into the orphanage. He's praying it was the smoke that got her as a tiny casket is lowered into the ground. He feels Shinji's grip on his shoulder as she vanishes.

Shinji. He sees Shinji bleeding out in a back alley. He remembers his final words; 'Its better this way.' He remembers. They were all gone. Miki, Shinji, Yuki.

Then how had he been talking to Shinji earlier that same day? How was Yuki here? Before he knew it he was running. His head was spinning so much he felt ill. Yuki's back was turned, and he was charging after him. How many times had he followed his lead?

"Yuki...!? You... You have to tell me... What's... going on here?"

His dizziness overtook him, and he felt his feet slip from under him. He felt himself collide with the sidewalk, the impossible vision before starting to fade to black as his consciousness waned.

[newx-menfan]

X-23 #3 Review 

*Spoilers*

The issue starts with Laura reflecting on Kimura and having a HUGE Logan retcon in flashback (🙄).

Kimura checks Laura’s injury’s by literally reaching in her chest ala “Temple of Doom” style (but without the cool Spielberg kitchy-ness…) and sprays her again with the chemical that blocks her healing factor.

Laura tells Kimura to just kill her, but Kimura tells Laura that someone (coughforshadow!cough) is paying big money to keep her alive and to have her return to working for the Facility. Laura says the Facility was destroyed, but Kimura rebuttals that there’s always something like it that is gonna be around (it’s kind of surprising Laura is shocked after the “Predator X” drama honestly…but I don’t think Schultz even bothered to read “New X-Men”…so…).

Kimura takes Laura on a tour and while looking at suppliers filling “MGH” (Mutant Growth Hormone); we get a call back to “NYX” and why Laura ended up being exploited as a sex slave (this series has a TON of NYX callbacks!). 

We find out the workers are addicted to MGH and that’s why they are working for the Facility 2.0 and we eatch one of them pass out from an overdose.

Kimura asks her a question about why her foot claws don’t make noise when she walks (hands down the funniest/weirdest moment of the series) and seems genuinely surprised that Laura does not desire this life; that she does not desire to be a hero.

Taunting her about her heroics, Kimura then shows Laura where they take the unconscious workers.

Laura attacks Kimura after seeing them in hospital beds and Kimura kills one of the people in retaliation, threatening to kill more if Laura does not obey.

To further break Laura, Kimura then shows her a slideshow of the individuals there and Laura realizes she must revert to who she formerly was to save them.

Review:

Honestly this mini feels more like “Laura’s best hits” than a stand alone story- you read it to see what will be included in the flashbacks than really being involved in the current story happening…

Maybe this will change when the REAL big bad drops…but so far it’s rather unexciting…

Laura reads like a cardboard box…often Schultz’s Laura feels pretty stale and one dimensional- I would compare it to Taylor and Tamaki’s Laura. 

Honestly…again…it highlights the common problem that x-writers seemingly all struggle with; treating Laura like a typical “cape” just leads her to losing everything that makes her fundamentally interesting…

I actually WISH Gabby was in this…or Hellion…or even Kiden….because Laura’s monologues often feel like over dramatic beige…. It’s hyperbole…but it’s also delivered in the most boring way possible.

As much as Gabby was a crutch for Taylor and Tamaki to hide the fact that they couldn’t write Laura…at least it gave us SOME hook.

As much as Kimura is played up as “evil”…honestly it’s pretty uneventful compared to the previous atrocities Kimura has done. Like this is pretty tame compared to “X-Force”…

I do appreciate Schultz examining how Laura ended up in sexual slavery in this issue, showing in a flashback that it happened out of desperation and her usage of NYX to examine Laura as a character more. I actually wish Schultz had done something with NYX instead of Utopia era, because I think Schultz does a better job with exploring that period than writing Liu era Laura….

I will say Kimura is a lot more introspective and interesting under Schultz; instead of being a generic torturer, this version of Kimura has a more interesting dynamic with Laura. The back and forth between them is some of the more interesting moments.

Overall I would rate this as “meh”…not bad but not stellar. 

Predictions: 

I mean we ALL know who the big bad is… (All of this will be worth it for the KINGPIN/Laura SHOWDOWN!!!)

Also-calling it- Haymaker is totally gonna end up in a MGH induced coma and that’s why we haven’t seen him before…