#i am HERE i shall catch up with everyone SOON

[moonchild-in-blue]

WHAT'S UP BITCHES

I'm back :)))))))))))

[dumbbitch-academy]

Use Me

Astarion x f!reader/tav

WC:3k+

Smut! 18+ MDNI

Summary: Reader is basically ovulating and is super horny because of this, so Astarion decides to help her out after finding her frustrated.

Contains: p-in-v sex, dirty talk, masturbation (female and male), mutual masturbation, oral (male receiving), face fucking (male receiving), reader gets embarrassed easily (there are some shame moments but nothing major), reader and Astarion are so horny for each other omg

A/N: Hello Everyone! Here is the full fic! Just keep in mind this is my first time writing smut! As always feedback is always welcomed! I did not expect this fic to become so long as it did but I am pleased with how it turned out!

Masterlist (it is short but it soon shall grow)

AO3 for those who prefer!

It had been so annoying all day. No matter how much you tried to will it away, the need and want for carnal release would not stop bothering you. It consumed you, and you hated that. The only thing you could think about was him, taking you in every which way that you could think of. You imagined his strong chest against your back, his smell overtaking your senses. The way his hands felt on your breasts, how his kisses to your throat set your neck aflame. His groans as he made his way to enter you, eyes closed with his brows scrunching up in the middle. You wanted all of this. But there was one problem with this solution. He was out on a mission and you did not want to burden him with your needs of release. 

You tried to think of why you could be so desperate, until you remembered, you were supposed to become fertile soon. You guess soon had finally arrived, much to your annoyance. The best you could do was to retreat to your tent and try to tend to this problem by yourself. Surely you would be able to take care of this, and then this whole irritating problem will go away. 

“I am going to my tent, I am not feeling too well, best not to bother me for a bit!”, you called out towards Gale and Shadowheart. Shadowheart nodded in acknowledgement, whereas Gale called out to you “Would you like help? I have a few wonderful teas that I keep for emergencies, such as headaches, sore muscles, or even a belly ache.” Gods, why did he have to be so helpful at the worst of times? You shook your head, “Oh thank you Gale, but I just feel overly tired. I would like to have some quiet time to nap.” You could see his mouth start to form a word as you quickly slipped into your tent, which was luckily a good bit farther from the rest of the group, “Okay, thank you, bye-” as you made your fast exit. 

Once you secured the tent flap, you took a deep inhale and raised your hands to cover your face. Astarion. You could feel the need start to build higher, if it was even possible. Astarion. You quickly went to pull your pants down, as well as your underclothes. They had already been wet from imagining Astarion taking you in whatever way he wanted to use you. Use me, Astarion. You went to pull your tunic above your head, your breath catching as you felt the fabric drag slightly across your nipples. Fuck, you didn’t know if you had ever been this horny before. You laid back onto your bed roll and started to twist your nipples in your fingers. You traced your hand down and slowly began to play with your sensitive bundle of nerves. You could feel the wetness that coated your soft dark curls there, the wetness providing excellent glide for your fingers to play with yourself, all while you imagined him. You imagined it was his hand, or tried to anyways, it always felt much better when he was the one playing with you there. You wished that you could smell him, to be able to feel enveloped. Fuck, why did he have to go on that stupid mission again? It was at this point you remembered that he had left his white shirt in your tent that morning before they set out. Using your clean hand, you palmed around for it until you felt the familiar fabric. You brought it to your nose and deeply inhaled. Gods, it was almost intoxicating. You huffed out a breath as you inserted a finger into your aching hole, fuck you needed something inside you. You thought about his cock, the thickness, stretching you with a delicious sting. You added another finger to try to achieve the same feeling, your breath hitching. You began to pump your fingers in and out, still thinking of the real thing. However, no matter how long you kept this up, you never were able to get anywhere near where you needed to be to finally cum, much to your frustration. 

It was not until a good amount of time had passed that you heard footsteps walking up to the tent. “Darling, I am back. Shadowheart mentioned you are not feeling well, do you need help?”Astarion called from outside the tent flap. Yes, more than ever. “Oh, uhh, hi Astarion, no I am okay, thank you though, my love!” Your voice failed to sound as nonchalant as you had hoped it to. Astarion was not buying it and began to open the tent flap slowly, “Love, you really sound distressed, I am going to come in okay? I want to make sure you are o-” He quickly rushed in and tied the flap secured when he saw what kind of state you were in. Cheeks red, his shirt in your hand, your chest heaving, legs spread with your hand still inserted into you. You all of a sudden burned hot, cheeks glowing even more, but this time from embarrassment. You quickly in one motion threw his shirt to the side, grabbed the blanket from your side, and wrapped yourself in a cocoon of shame. 

Why you felt such shame, you were not totally sure as to why. You were in a committed relationship, and had slept with each other quite a few times. But never had he ever walked in on you pleasuring yourself. The feeling of shame was met with easy red eyes from Astarion and a giggle, “Not feeling good you say? Surely an orgasm can take away any headache, do not let me stop you, my love.” 

“I do not have a headache, please Astarion, I am…” He could sense your humiliation and slowly went to sit down beside you with his legs crossed. “Darling, there is no need to be ashamed, we haven’t in a while and you have needs. Don’t let me stop you. Please continue to fuck yourself while you…” he glanced over to his tossed shirt “smell my shirt. You always surprise me, my sweet girl.” By now you accepted the situation, “Astarion, I have been horny all day, I cannot seem to take care of it. I think I am just going to go jump in a cold lake. Or just ignore it because I don’t want you to feel obligated to hel-”, you were cut off by a quick kiss to the forehead between your brows. “Darling, I would love to help you. Let me, please. I have been wanting to take you for the last few days actually… thinking of every single curve, freckle, giggle,” Astarion slowly coaxed you out of the blanket that had been your fortress against your own embarrassment for the last several minutes. “You… you do not have to do this if you don’t want to, Astarion. I can take care of this myself, really. You won’t hurt my feelings if you leave,” you looked up at him and shifted your body to sit with your legs crossed mirroring him. “Tav, please, let me take you,” a dangerous glimmer in Astarion’s eyes while he nodded, giving you permission. You nodded in return and moved to your knees as you leaned your neck down to meet your lover’s lips with a small tentative kiss at first, which began to deepen. He rose up to his knees, his armor abrasive against your soft skin. He pulled away when he noticed you pull back slightly, scratchy armor was not your favorite feeling in the world against your bare chest. Astarion remedied this by immediately taking off his top garments to have only his leather trousers and bare chest against you. You hummed in thanks and took his lips in another kiss, more heated than before. You could feel his hands wander up your back, tracing along your spine in opposite directions. He ended up with one hand gently holding the back of your head while the other firmly rested on your round ass. The desire which had been snuffed out momentarily stoked once again. You reached behind him and pulled him in closer, moving your mouth to trace kisses along his jaw, stopping at his ear lobe. His unneeded breath caught and a small moan escaped his lips. He pulled back to look into your eyes, his had begun to be half-lidded. “I thought I was helping you take care of your little issue, my love”, he sensually whispered as he went to kiss your neck, which he began to suck on the sensitive skin there. The hand he had on your ass began to knead the cheek, eliciting a groan from you. You needed more. You pushed away from him suddenly and went to lie down on the bed roll once again and nodded up at him. He nodded back at you and followed you, straddling one of your legs, making sure that they were opened for him. Bracing himself up with one arm above your head, he began to feel your breast, heavy, warm, and so ready to be played with. He moved his fingers to twist and play with your nipple as he began to rub your engorged sex with his thigh, causing you to breathe out his name. He moved his mouth to suck and lick your other nipple, humming in pleasure as he tasted your skin. You closed your eyes and brought your head back and began to grind your dripping cunt onto his thigh, no longer feeling the embarrassment that clouded your mind before. 

You began to quietly pant out labored breaths as he gently nipped your nipple between his blunt teeth, careful not to puncture you there. “Mmmmphhhh,” you groaned with need, which earned you a sultry giggle, “Eager aren’t we? Cannot wait to be on my fingers? Or how about on my face? My cock? Tell me what you want, my darling love. Let me hear you.” It was all too  much but not nearly enough to get you off. “Anything. I need you Astarion. Take me, use me. Mark me, fuck. Do anything you want to me,” you begged as you continued to grind on his thigh. The slick spreading everywhere, not that either of you cared at this exact moment. The only thought between the two of you was each other and each other's pleasure. 

A low growl came from Astarion’s chest, “Come here then, on all fours.” Astarion moved to give you more space, pulling down his trousers, you moaned with anticipation as his cock popped out, already achingly hard, precum deliciously pearled at the tip. You licked your lips and eyed up at him, “Please, let me suck your cock. Let me taste you.” Astarion had already fisted his erection, staring down at you, pumping slowly, “Good girl, you may suck my cock with that filthy mouth of yours.” 

You moved forward and took the head into your mouth, lavishing his flavor. Moaning onto his cock, you began to bob your head back and forth, your body moving slightly with you. Astarion held one of his hands on his hip while his other went to rest on your head. He didn’t push it down, only kept you and him moving together perfectly. “Gods, your mouth is so fucking warm. You were waiting all day for this weren’t you? Waiting for my cock to be inside you, wherever I wanted it to be, huh? My dirty girl, always so good and eager for me. Pleasing- hah, fuck that’s nice- pleasing me with your body,” Astarion praised you, his voice a slightly higher pitch than his normal speaking voice. You loved when he sounded like this. Free to express his pleasure however he wanted to, speak freely and openly. Whatever came to his mind during pleasure. He had begun to pump his hips in tandem to your movements. You took this opportunity to flick your tongue against his frenulum before fully letting Astarion take control. “Want me to face fuck you? Force your throat onto my cock?” Astarion had always made sure to ask. A low moan came from your chest, nodding as you felt pearls of wetness fall down your thighs. With your permission, Astarion grabbed your head and began to viciously pump your head and throat fully onto his cock at a devastating pace. The salty precum freely flows onto your tongue and down your throat. You looked up at Astarion, who already had his garnet eyes fixed onto you, “That’s right, take my cock. Look into my eyes while you gag on this dick. Fuck. Fuck, I love you. Mmmmmphhhhhh, I want to make love to you forever.” It was so liberating for the both of you. He noticed you trying to fuck yourself on nothing that was there, and took mercy on you by leaning over and using one of his hands to slide two fingers into your dripping wet cunt. You both moaned heavily, fucking each other in tandem to where pleasure knew no bounds between your bodies. “Fuck, I need to be inside you right now. I want to cum in you, please. Please let me fuck you,” Astarion began to whine. Immediately both of you let each other go, his cock releasing from your mouth with a pop. 

“Please, take me. Cum in me. Gods, fuck me,” you begged as well as you moved to lie on your back. You began to immediately play with your clit with your legs spread open, staring up at Astarion and noticed that he had instantly lost the rest of his clothing with lightning speed. With heavy eyes, he began to stroke himself with one hand, his other pinching his own nipple. You followed this and played with your own nipple as well. Your huffs of air coming from your open mouths as you pleasured yourselves just staring at each other. When you decided it was time, you used your fingers you were stroking your clit with to beckon Astarion down to you, smirking at each other as he took your slick fingers into his mouth as he settled between your legs. You hooked your legs around his, and braced yourself for his cock to finally be inside of you, wrapping both of your arms around his neck and shoulders to keep him close. You stared into each other's eyes as you could feel him enter you with the swollen head of his cock, both groaning at the feeling. You relished the stretch as he impaled you onto his cock, sinking deeper and deeper into you until he bottomed out, his thighs pressed into yours.“Fuck, move please, fuck me,” you whined as you began to wiggle your hips trying to fuck yourself on his thick cock. Astarion groaned at the sight and feeling of your entire being begging for him. He began to rock his hips to meet yours, huffing breaths with each thrust. He stared into your eyes and you stared back, the love between you two burning so intensely as the molten pleasure between you made your bodies sing for one another. You could feel his hips snap faster and faster, becoming more erratic. You would both come undone for each other. He leaned his head down to your neck, breathy high pitched whines quietly escaping his mouth as he kissed open mouth kisses below your ear. You brought one of your hands to play with the tip of his ear, you knew how much he loved his ears played with the closer he was to his end. “Please, please may I cum? Please I have been good, please let me cum,” Astarion slurred out, unable to keep his voice even. You always thought he was so cute when he asked to cum, genuinely as a light smile crooked the side of your mouth. 

A moan escaped your mouth as you leaned in, connecting your lips together and nodded as you deeply kissed him. You broke the kiss just long enough, “Yes, my love, come for me. P-please cum inside me, Astarion.” You gave him another kiss at the same time you clenched around him and lightly pinched his ear. His orgasm racked his body as his hips snapped violently into yours, slurring out your name as his eyes rolled backwards. The feeling of his cum shooting deep into you was all you needed to reach your climax as you felt your legs shake and arms tense around Astarion. 

Both of your breathing was deep and labored as you came back down, skin glistening with a sheer layer of sweat. “I love you,” came out of both your mouths at the same time and this caused a burst of laughter to erupt. Smiling down at you with his hair stringy and hanging down from sweat he went to move out of you, “Okay, hold on, I'm pulling out.” You felt the uncomfortable release and quietly winced. He rolled over and laid on his back and you rolled to your side, facing him. “So… feel any better?”, Astarion asked with a smirk adorning his face. You groaned in embarrassment, “...yes.” You knew he was genuinely asking, not just poking fun at you. You moved to wrap your arms around him as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders in return. You stayed there in contented silence until your stomach rumbled, which had Astarion snorting out a small laugh, “Come my dear, let's get you something to eat. I am sure Gale would be insulted if we stayed in here all night without you having dinner anyways.” 

You both got ready and began to make your way out of the tent, but did not find anyone at the campsite. You were suddenly worried of an ambush that had taken place during your intense romp together. But as you were walking around you found a quickly written note which read:

“ We decided to go to the river… We will be back once you “feel better”- Shadowheart”

The intense heat that spread through your cheeks, bringing a strong blush across your ears and entire face caused Astarion to full belly laugh after he had read what was contained in the letter. You covered your face with both hands and groaned in embarrassment, “ We are camping so far away from them from now on we are going to be across the river, oh my gods.”

[tinandabin]

SAGAU but the the reader is the ACTUAL creator

Thorny love: part 5

Previous part: part 4

a/n: am I back from the dead? I dunno, but yesterday night I felt like writing and wrote another part. so, I decided to publish it here also!

________

"Yo-Your Grace... You are finally here.." Ei spoke, her eyes wide and her legs shaking a bit. It almost looked like she was gonna cry. However, her face hardened up as soon as more people started gathering around you and her. Perhaps, you were the only one to catch a glimpse of her expression. She is an Archon, she too has a reputation to uphold in Inazuma, after all. "Hello, Ei. How have you been?" You smiled at her, hand going up to ruffle her hair. Revelyn still hadn't let go of your robe, her hold on it tightened a bit.

Ei's breath hitched as soon as your hand messed with her hair. "I'm..." She tried to find the right words to express her feelings, but she couldn't. How can she explain that she felt as if a part of her had been torn from her when you left her? It felt as if...she had been plunged into never-ending despair and loneliness. She missed you, very dearly. The place where her heart should have been, felt strangely empty without your embrace, your smile, your eyes, you.

Your hand retreated soon enough, "You don't have to answer, Ei." You gently told her, sensing her inner turmoil. It hurt you to leave your creations suffering and in agony, it truly did so. But some actions are sadly enough, necessary.

Ei smiled and nodded, hand coming to hold yours when she saw another hand grasping your robe. Immediately, she looked at the culprit only to see the face of the impostor. How dare she even show her face here after all she did? The thought made her scoff. She not only deceived the Archons but even you. The nerve of some people.. And now she acts all angelic and needy when you show up? But of course, Ei won't say anything. Not in front of you. 

"And who might be the coward behind you, Your Grace?" Ei gestured towards Revelyn behind you. You smiled beamingly, gently prying Revelyn from behind you. "Oh, come now, Ei, you don't remember her?" You asked her innocently, quickly realizing the jab she was throwing towards Revelyn, but brushing it off. You don't wish for an argument to start over here, of all places. 

Ei stared at Revelyn for a moment, taking your hint to not taunt her. "I do, Your Grace. How could I not?" 

"I'm glad to know so, " You put your hands on Revelyn's shoulder, your touch sending an electrifying shock of pleasure through her body. "Everyone misunderstood Revelyn. She's a very sweet and angelic girl. I'm sure she will fit right back in, hm?" 

Revelyn stood awkwardly, clearly wanting to be anywhere but here. She decided to keep up her act of cowardice until you left. "Um.. Hi," Her meek voice spoke up, a slight tremble to it. She batted her eyelashes at Ei, smiling softly. "I'm Revelyn.. Revelyn Aniela. " 

The surname struck some nostalgic feeling inside you. You had a brief feeling that perhaps you had heard this somewhere before, that perhaps someone dear to you held the same surname. Someone close to your heart, your mind, your soul- but who? Who was that? You can't recall. Aniela. Aniela. Aniela. So familiar, yet so distinct. Maybe it was simply the name of a friend long gone, you would love to give yourself this benefit of doubt, but you're not the kind of person to do that. You're the Creator for fuck's sake, if you're remembering something, then that must be because it's important! It was of significance, you wouldn't just remember a random surname, right? Right...?

You shook your head, deciding you're indeed giving yourself the benefit of the doubt because you're too old to deal with this detective stuff. Frankly enough, if you think about it more, you'll probably just get a headache. Best to leave it be, now. You'll just ask Seraphina to play detective, like always. You cleared your throat. "So, what are we waiting for? Shall we go?" 

Ei nodded right away, grabbing your hand and Intertwining your fingers. "As you wish, Your Grace. " 

Revelyn was left behind to catch up. 

__________

A few days passed in Inazuma without much commotion. You spent most of the time with Ei, Revelyn of course stuck around so long as you were there. Personally, you were tired of both of them. They need to stop clinging to you like you're their mother. Ei, you understood why she clinged to you, considering she didn't see you for months on end, but Revelyn, who lived with you for like... the past month, it wasn't very understandable. Lile be for real, Revelyn. You not tired yet? Like. Girl. Stop embarrassing yourself and get some self respect and go where you're actually wanted. 

So, for both your sanity and their's (Lie), you decided to leave both of them together to socialize and become the best of best friends. (Lie. You just wanted time to yourself and wanted to meet Yae Miko.) Of course, you were, for the first time, surprised to see both Ei and Revelyn unite together. Merely for the purpose of notetting you leave but hey, progress! They atleast united for a common goal, no matter how troublesome that may be for you. 

Their combined forces weren't enough to deter you, in the end, you won and they were forced to talk to each other or sulk together, or maybe, a rare possibility, but have a heated make-out session. Who knows. Whatever works, works. They're on their own now and you're on your own, to meet Yae Miko and have a heated make-out session with her perhaps. It won't happen, maybe, but the thought is entertaining though. You're like, 93% certain Miko would agree if you asked. It's not like she hasn't suggested that before. Ah, enough thoughts. You're here. 

"Good grace, it's such a heavy task to climb these hills to just be graced by your presence, Miko, " You let out a whine, leaning against one of thr shrine. "You should know my old bones can't hold for long-" A book was placed against your lips and a fluffy, really fluffy and soft, tail caressed your thigh sneakily. "My my, Your Divinity, you ought to know, I don't fancy you saying those words. You look very beautiful, and ravishing, might I add. " Yae Miko said, leaning in close to you with a smirk on her face. 

You placed a hand on her wrist, gently removing the book. "I'm happy you think so, but might I say, you look even more delightful, " You replied back with a grin. This flirty playful banter was always your favorite thing to do in Inazuma, apart from watching Revelyn and Ei be at their throats, of course. "Oh please, Your Divinity, you flatter me. But we both know, you're the most beautiful-" You placed a finger on her lips. "Ahhh, shhh. Nothing more to speak of this topic. You can't argue with me on this, you're, of course, the most stunning woman in Inazuma, " 

Miko let out an offended gasp, "Inazuma only? Is that my beauty's worth to you, Your Divinity? I'm offended, " She pouted, clearly putting up an act just for you. 

"No no, my dear. I meant in whole Teyvat. It would be a crime for me to think your beauty isn't other worldly, " 

And this playful banter continued on. 

_________

On the other side, Revelyn and Ei were indeed having a heated make-out session. Not the kind you're thinking of. 

"Oh, so as soon as my graceful creator leaves, you suddenly drop the act of cowardice?" Ei stared at Revelyn, a cold and unrelenting aura around her. 

"Your creator...? Psssh," Revelyn let out a mocking laugh, "Please. Your words are blatantly false!" She glared at Ei, her fists clenching at her sides. 

"Shut up, you witch, you casted a spell of sorts on my graceful creator, didn't you? That's why she is completely and utterly fooled by you!" 

"Oh? I'll cast a spell on you too and turn you into a monkey if you don't shut up!"

You walked in with a smile. "Guys. I just had a make-out session with Miko-"

________

taglist: taglist: @shizunxie @dearloonies @iruiji @yani-dere @kiraisastay @fauxizs @salvationprodigy @thetruepair @lunalily19 @vvyeislazzy @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis @kaveh-is-pretty @plusea @i-have-a-lot-of-ocs @the-real-fandom-person @kunikuzushisbeloved @artwitchh @sadgutaches @irisxiel @atlaincorrect @warcelia @lorkai @muomoii @elakari @burningtyphoonlady @daily-average

@3noa3 @7smexy7diva @5sos-wdw @bre99 @kittieswitheverything @theblueblub @faejvst @ryver8000 @dreamlessnight @bunnyOu @goldenglow149 @callmehnooby

@angelofdarkness2 @anglicascorner

@pinxeajin @avalordream @boycigs @ilovemyhusbandaaravos

a/n: hi! if yr name is cut, then that means I couldn't tag you. if in the next part I won't be able to tag you, then your name will be removed from the taglist. please ask me to tag you again in the LATEST part to be readded to the taglist! thank you (❁´◡`❁)

Masterlist

[nyrandrea]

No because he is as well, I adore the way he was written!! I was the same gigglin n kickin my feet each n everytime 😭

But can I ask for a request then, so say reader n Astarion ( plus two others ) are in an fight and reader just gets badly injured n knocked out and he just loses it killing anyone in his path to get to reader caring about them agshdudisowowi

Thanks so much for the request! I had quite a bit of fun writing this prompt.

Few warnings for canon-typical violence, blood, injury and animal death. Yyyyeah it is quite the doozy.

Word Count - 1.9k

Hope you enjoy!

xxx

The moon hung low in the starlit sky, its pale light casting ghostly shadows upon a narrow, winding mountain path. You and your party had been travelling all day as you wanted to cover more considerable ground to make up for time lost due to camping. However, the physical toll it was taking on everyone was starting to show as you all moved cautiously through the rugged terrain. 

Lae’zel was understandably the most resilient of the group, her tough demeanor betrayed only by the beads of sweat that trailed down her knitted eyebrows as she focused on conquering the path ahead. Shadowheart seemed to be driven purely by spite just to keep up with the githyanki; you almost had to fight her a few times just to get her to stop and catch her breath before she keeled over.  

You were feeling pretty run down yourself, every step felt heavier as time dragged on and your muscles were screaming at you to stop, but if you made it to that rock, to that tree, just over the hill, across the river, only then could you rest. 

You said that about ten rocks and five rivers ago. 

“That’s it!” A familiar voice shouted out from behind you, and you instinctively rolled your eyes. “I can’t take this anymore.” 

Turning around, you were greeted with the sorry sight of Astarion collapsing onto his knees and huffing for breath, and it seemed as if he wasn’t going to get back up anytime soon.  

“Astarion-” 

“Don’t you ‘Astarion’ me with that... little disappointed pout of yours,” the vampire said. “I am literally on my knees begging here, darling. We need to stop for the night.” 

“As sad as your little theatrics are,” Shadowheart walked over to the two of you and smirked down at him before turning to you. “He does have a point. We’ve been walking all day; I think I lost all feeling in my feet about half an hour ago.”  

“And you say he is the dramatic one?” Lae’zel cut in, sneering down at you from a higher ledge. “Look at you all, complaining like children. This is nothing compared to-” 

“Yes, yes, you have endured a horrendous array of training throughout your arduous upbringing on the Astral Plane that has transformed you into the fearsome warrior you are today; we get it,” Astarion said sarcastically, earning a snort of laughter from Shadowheart and a scowl from yourself. “But I for one am not made of pure titanium and would like to rest.” 

“Fine,” Lae’zel growled. “But if the ghaik tadpole decides to turn your insides out because of your time wasting, then I shall be all too happy to end your life.” 

“It’s a deal, darling.” 

With everyone in agreement, you relieved yourself of your heavy backpack and quickly got to work on setting up a makeshift camp. Dinner was a small, cooked rabbit to share, while Astarion waited patiently for you to finish until you let him drink his fill. You didn’t miss the concerned glance shared between Shadowheart and Lae’zel but said nothing. 

As the darkness deepened and the others retired for the evening, you decided you didn’t quite want to go to sleep quite yet— a decision you were probably going to regret come morning. Regardless, the stars were out tonight, and you weren’t certain when you might next get to enjoy them during this treacherous journey, if ever. 

The tadpole behind your eye wriggled slightly, and you were worried it was going to waste your night with a migraine and unwanted whispers, but instead it settled down. You huff a sigh of relief; you were spared, for tonight anyway. 

Despite the sky above being a sight to behold, your eyes couldn’t help but keep wandering down. Astarion was sitting across from you, his eyes creased and lips in a tight line as he concentrated on the ghastly book spread across his lap. The Necromancy of Thay had been his focus of attention for these past few nights, and you were honestly starting to worry a little for him. Sure, it was you who had given it to him in the first place (after he practically begged you for it), but the way he hyper focused on it at times was... concerning, to say the least. 

You clear your throat, hoping to catch his attention. 

It doesn’t work; you try again. 

“Oh, do shut up...!” 

His sharp tone makes you recoil slightly, and the vampire mirrors you, glancing between you and the book with widened eyes. 

“O-Oh no, I didn’t mean you, my dear. It’s this blasted book,” Astarion says, frowning down at it like a disappointed parent. “I can’t make heads or tails of the damn thing.” 

“Do you... need some help?” You meekly offer, even though you didn’t know the first thing about necromancy; some things were just best left untouched in your opinion. 

“You’re a sweetheart,” he breathes out a little chuckle. “But no.” He allows the book to close with a heavy thump before his eyes trail back up, lingering on you for a moment. “But I could do with a... little distraction.” 

As the fire crackles and pops, your cheeks flare up as Astarion slowly crawls his way around, not stopping until he is only inches away from you. Not quite knowing what to do or where to look, your body goes stiff as he slowly leans in towards you.  

“What do you think, hm?” he purrs, his knuckle softly caressing your cheekbone as he brushes away a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Shall we have a little fun?” 

You nod shyly and allow him to draw you in as he cups your face and brushes his lips against yours, only to suddenly stiffen and pull away. A surge of panic jabs up from under your ribs as you’re worried that, somehow, you’ve done something to hurt him or put him off. 

“I-I’m sorry!” You blurt out. “Are you okay?” 

He eases your fretting by smoothing down your arms with an almost amused expression. “No, it’s not you, never you, I can’t stress that enough but there’s... something-,” he frowns and sniffs the air.  

Oh Gods, did you stink? You knew it had been a while since you last washed but… 

No, his attention was away from you as he quickly got to his feet and focused on what appeared to be a large boulder of sorts, about ten feet away from where you lay. 

Astarion’s eyes widen, and for the first time in a long time, he looks terrified. 

“Shit, he’s found me again. We’ve got to leave, now!” 

Suddenly, like vipers striking from the shadows, a group of monster hunters descended upon you, the night erupting into chaos as they sprang into action with ruthless efficiency. Swords and daggers glinted ominously in the dim firelight as you and the others desperately tried to defend yourselves. 

Fear and confusion gripped the group as you fought back against your assailants, but the element of surprise was with the ambushers. They moved with a deadly grace; their tactics honed through countless skirmishes. The clash of steel and cries of anguish pierced the night air.  

Desperation fueled your resistance, but they outnumbered you five to one, and that was without including their attack dogs, who had taken to separating you from the rest of the group as their personal prey. You jab your sword at their snapping maws, shout and try to make yourself look big to fend them off or, at the very least, make them think twice about attacking you.  

However, none of it seems to work as one takes a lunge at you and sinks their jaws into your arm. The jolt of shock quickly wore off to the searing heat of pain as the dog tugged and shook you like a rag doll, the beast spurred on by the snarls and barks of the others before they joined in on the mauling. 

You tried to scream but it hurt to even breathe, reducing you to mere gasping as your limbs throbbed and your head pounded. You thought you heard screaming, but the chaos of the battle muffled your senses as if you were being held underwater. You fall flat on your back as you’re pinned down to the ground, your eyes fluttering as something hot, wet and slimy drips onto your cheeks. Your eyes are met with a row of fangs; you shut them quickly, unwilling to look your death in the face. 

In that moment, an anguished cry cuts through the noise, and your eyes snap open. 

The next few moments are a blurry, bloody mess; primal and violent as you can just make out different voices—the hunter’s voices— crying out in pain along with the sound of wet tearing, of fangs ripping into flesh and blood splattering across the ground. You can only stare ahead, eyes wide with fear and body numb as the heavy weight on your chest is suddenly lifted. There’s a pitiful whine and a crunching snap, and the carnage finally stops. 

After a few moments of unbearable silence, your jumbled thoughts immediately go to your teammates, and you try to push yourself up to go help them. They were probably hurt, or worse, dead. You had to get up. Just... get up! 

‘Get up!’ 

“Get up goddamn you!” 

Your blurred vision slowly cleared as you blinked away your tears, and a familiar, blood-splattered face came into view. Gods but Astarion looked so afraid; his red eyes were wet, and his bottom lip quivered ever so slightly as he gently slid his hands under your broken body to help you sit up. 

“Oh, thank the Gods,” he whispered. “He... he will not take you away from me. I won’t let him.” He looks over his shoulder and shouts, “Cleric, get over here now!” 

His lips curled into a snarl as Shadowheart dropped to her knees beside you, as if he was frustrated that she wasn’t healing you quick enough. As if to confirm, he snaps at her to hurry up. 

“Shouting at me isn’t going to make the process go any quicker, I need to concentrate,” Shadowheart bit back, before her gaze softened upon you as a golden light washed out from her hands and over your body. “Just hold on a little longer, okay?” 

“She is right, you must calm yourself,” Lae’zel softly ordered Astarion as she knelt by your other side. “You have already taken your rage out on the enemy, do not let it overtake you.” 

Astarion said nothing as he focused solely on you, whispering hushed promises and honeyed words that got jumbled through your dazed state, but you appreciated them all the same. You tried to show him this by curling your stiff fingers around his, the coolness of his skin bringing a brief respite to your burning hot hands. He breathes out a sad, broken chuckle and reciprocates your gesture with a soft kiss to your fingers. 

The moon bore witness to the tragedy, casting its cold, indifferent light upon the scene, but you thought it shone beautifully, all the same. 

xxx

[tobylix-blog]

Southern winds - Legolas x f!Reader

Content & Warnings: slight angst, memory loss Word count: 3.5k Summary: Legolas joins king Elessar during his travel through recently reclaimed lands of Harondor. He is met with the views of the vast steppe, poverty and some old Harad magic. A/n: This turned out quite differently from how I initially envisioned, so I am pretty much desperate for feedback in comments, asks or dms. P.S. Requests are open

Even though Hísimë [1] is considered to be the fading season, usually accompanied by first significantly colder days throughout the Middle-earth, South from Poros river it seems to be yet another month of autumn when days and nights differ in lighting less than in weather. The Harad road goes south taking smooth turns around rocky hills, never showing one's eyes more than necessary. But a traveler equipped with a fine cloak and a good flask of water feels welcomed by the vast steppe slowly turning to desert.

Riders left Minas Tirith over a fortnight ago. Their cloaks were black, making them similar to some crisp-edged shadows casted by a weird flock of birds. Elessar had made it clear that he wished to remain in the front of the whole group, leading the way rather than following the fame of his name. And all the more so he wished since he had learned that Legolas wanted to join him for this mission.

«These lands are pleased to witness new people,» Legolas mentioned gesturing at some small rodent that had been running along the road with them for a minute.

Aragorn smirked in response. «Your eyes are only getting sharper over the years.»

He reached into one of the bags and pulled out a hardtack. Riding closer to the edge of the road he crumbled it and scattered along the path. He slowed down the horse to watch as the animal reached the breadcrumbs and began feasting upon them.

«These lands need a helping hand. It has always been difficult for people here, but living under the constant threat from both Corsairs of Umbar and Haradrim is beyond hard,» Aragorn sighed, catching up with Legolas.

«The chance will present itself soon. Before long we will reach Forambar. I can hear the voices in the distance,» the elf replied.

«Shall we take a turn here then? Merchants were not so clear about the path.»

«Not yet, we might need to ride some more.»

Aragorn trusted Legolas' hearing more than any advice or guidance and it paid off grandly. The elf led the riders through an almost invisible path twisting between the stony hills. As they reached the highest point they could see Forambar before them. Just a village like many other in Harondor. A bunch of rickety huts and tents scattered across a narrow valley. The only notable thing about Forambar was that it was the closest settlement to Ithilien, and thus Gondor.

As the king and his entourage approached the settlement, many of its inhabitants came out to see. Some were wary of people in fine armor with the White tree on their chests. Others seemed rather curious about the unexpected guests. No matter the expressions of tanned faces, their eyes glimmered with one and the same question 'What do you bring here?'

Aragorn halted the horse halfway through the village and waited. The sparse crowd filled with whispers, swayed like a wave, and a man emerged from within it. He wasn't particularly tall or strong, but his clothes appeared finer than those of others and suggested his higher status.

«What brings us the honor to welcome guests from Gondor?» the man inquired cautiously.

«It is my will to pay visit to all settlements South from Poros and bring whatever help people of Harondor might need for I am the King, Elessar Telcontar, and these lands are once more part of my kingdom according to peace treaty with Haradrim,» Aragorn spoke, his voice clear and loud above the quiet valley. In the golden rays of the sunset behind his back he seemed a regal monument of himself.

For a moment everyone remained silent and motionless. Then the man in front, chief of Forambar, who couldn't tear his eyes away from Aragorn, got down on one knee bowing his head lowly to the king. The crowd behind him swayed once more and followed the example. Elders bowed with respect, young ones knelt.

Legolas observed the scene of recognition with mild curiosity and understanding. He knew well enough what kind of a king his friend was, that Aragorn deserved every bit of this esteem. Among all gathered people the elf noticed only one figure that remained unbent. A young woman standing in a narrow passage between tents – you. Your dark skin glowed like antique bronze in sunlight. Your hair cut unusually short was mostly covered by a scarf, its long ends hanging over your shoulder. But what caught his eyes more than a faint hint of a bow that you portrayed were your ears with undoubtedly pointy ends.

______________________________________________________________

Though Forambar had little to no resources to provide for the king and his entourage, two tents were momentarily set up on height above the village. There was something positively romantic in the way one could leave the comforting warmth of a tent and be so completely enveloped in cool night air and bright glow of stars above.

Before the dusk gave in to the darkness completely, Damon, chief of Forambar, visited Aragorn. He asked you to come along as well. When you entered the tent together he bowed deeply to the king once more, however you only bowed your head respectfully. Damon spoke quietly and verbosely, doubts and uncertainty clear in his tone as he asked for what service he could accomplish for the Great King.

You stopped him at once, as you put your hand on the chief's shoulder. «My king, let this man go back to his family. His heart is pained at the thought of not fulfilling your wish, but he can hardly do any more than he has already done,» you suggested.

Aragorn nodded in agreement. «Which is enough. Go home, friend, and let your heart be at peace.»

The chief bowed respectfully and departed hastily, leaving you behind in a company of the king and-

«Legolas of the Woodland realm,» you nodded to the elf who stood further from the entrance, almost completely covered by the shadows. «Our lands cannot remember the times when elves set their feet upon it. Truly has the new age come.»

Legolas spared you a long observant glance. He took in your gestures, unhurried and firm, your clothes, hanging loosely around your body, your piercing gaze and yet again those pointy ears. «If it were not for your words, I would have sworn you were one of Edhil. Who are you?»

«My name here is Morentir. I am the watchman in the north,» you replied and noticed a silent question arising. «North of Harad, that is. My ancestors came from beyond Harnen and brought their knowledge long ago. We have stayed in these lands ever since, grateful to them and to people, who accepted us.»

«There are more watchmen? What exactly is it that you keep your eyes on?» Aragorn inquired, stepping to the side.

«Harondor. From the shores to the mountains, we see everything. Every merchant taking the road, every nomad crossing the steppe, every shadow forming under the sun. We search for dangers and fortunes. We guide people away from ones and towards the others. A dozen and a half watchmen by the number of settlements across the land. That is who we are,» you said. «And that is why I have to be here tonight. If you wish to visit all of the villages in Harondor, you will need our guidance, my king.»

As you spoke to Aragorn, elaborating on the ways of the steppe, Legolas observed you silently. He watched how you unwrapped your scarf and laid it out on the floor showcasing the map embroidered on delicate fabric. He listened intently to your voice, savoring a thick layer of accent and arrhythmic pace, as you explained their further travel. He found something calming in the way candlelight casted shadows across your hands as they were gliding over the surface of the map.

When you got up and left the tent a good hour later, it was as if he woke up from a dream. Warmth and serenity of comfortable silence suddenly felt suffocating to Legolas. He followed the gust of fresh wind from the entrance and found himself under a vast carpet of stars. Piercing cold wind greeted him outside and a piercing gaze of your eyes. «Was there something amiss?»

Legolas considered your words for a long second before letting a faint smile touch his lips. Your question landed a precise strike to the feeling that bothered him. «Like a moon from the sky on a cloudy night.»

«I didn't know whom I had made this for, until tonight. But it seems you have come in time to relieve me of the doubts,» you murmured, passing him a folded garb from your bosom. Under close inspection it turned out to be a thin chemise, soft to the touch and intricately embroidered. Legolas' fingers followed the pattern on the front making out unfamiliar ornaments. «Wear it when your heart feels right.»

______________________________________________________________

Southern spring turned out to be even worse than the winter. By the end of Súlìmë [2] nights remained almost as cold, but during the day sun shone relentlessly, heating up Gondorians in their dark cloaks and armor like stones on the road. Many riders chose to take off their helmets and some piled their armor in the wagons following them. Since the time when they entered Harondor during late autumn the lands proved to be relatively clear of dangers that needed to be met with steel. Following the routes shown by watchmen, they wouldn't have met any of those, had Aragorn not chosen to teach a lesson to some runaway Haradrim bandits.

At the thought of that encounter Legolas involuntarily raised a hand to his chest. One of the throwing knives had come right below his hand as he was drawing the bow. That would make one unsightly scar if it wasn't for the shirt. He thought it was but a chance at first. Though the longer he spent observing the embroidery the more convinced he became that there was more to this thing than just beautiful craft.

«It is a woven shield. Harad magic,» Luintir, watchman from Urgon, confirmed when Legolas showed her the garb. «Well-worn one would cost one a good flock of sheep South from Harnen.»

The elf didn't care for sheep or gold, but knowing just how valuable the gift was took him by surprise. You who hadn't known him before gave him a thing of such power and worth. The knowledge only made his thoughts circle back to you more often.

In the beginning it was only natural to occasionally reflect on a sudden encounter and a gift. But since the middle of winter Legolas could barely name a few nights when his mind wouldn't be filled with thoughts of a woman that he only met once. It only got worse since they left Urgon and turned back North on Yestarë [3]. Weather changes didn't do enough to get his mind off you as the elf didn't suffer nearly as much as other riders.

And now as they finally were approaching Forambar Legolas felt a stinging wish to rush forward, get you away from the prying eyes and ask dozens of questions swarming in his head.

______________________________________________________________

Damon greeted the king and his men ceremoniously. Clearly the first wagons with goods from central Gondor had already reached the village in winter and the people were grateful for the help.

The stay wasn't supposed to be long this time either, so Legolas took the chance to roam along the path to the North of the village, where your hut stood just a little distanced from the rest. Small and sturdy it seemed in the dry last year's grass. He heard you before you showed from behind the building. Your steps rustled against the ground like water whispers against river banks.

«What brings you here, noble guest?» you asked him. The question rang clear through the cool air, but remained unanswered. Legolas appeared completely taken aback, his eyes wide, eyebrows drawn together, lips parted. There were changes in you, such that should not occur nor within a year, neither after a longer time. He clenched the shirt he held on his hands. You noticed it and reached out. «Was it your wish to ask about it?»

Legolas looked down at your hand, then back up at your face. «Your eyes are black.»

«As they should be. It would be a waste to be called Morentir and bear eyes of a different shade,» you replied amused by his direct statement. He only shook his head. That couldn't be true. In the name of Valar it couldn't be, he remembered clearly that your eyes were not black when you looked at him standing just outside of the king's tent.

«You Sindar are truly a mystery,» you noted, turning to the side. You could sense that this elf meant no harm, but his actions were rather strange. The turmoil in his heart was obvious to your eyes yet the reasons remained unclear. When you felt his fingers tracing the edge of your ear, you recoiled unconsciously. «By what custom would you do that?!»

Legolas' expression filled with painful confusion. «My eyes betray me... I could swear... I mistook you for one of our kind when I've seen your ears. Shaped as beech leaves were they.»

«People don't tend to have such ears,» you objected, slightly annoyed. For some reason the graceful creature before your eyes irritated you like an insect.

«I remember it clearly as day. This chemise reminded me with every touch, I wouldn't forget even if I wished to... So different you were that night. Same voice, same woman, yet so much changed.» The more he looked at you the more distinctions he could see, some subtle, others obvious. «How could that be?»

You sighed, feeling his words weighing heavily on your mind. «Go back, guest.»

Your voice struck him as a slap across the face. «Does your gift have no meaning? I learned of its value, I thought of it daily, but it holds no importance to you?»

«I do not recognize you and neither do I care,» you retorted and repeated firmly. «Go back.»

Legolas stood frozen as if a blade and not your words pierced through him. You watched something crumble inside him so loudly that it was visible in his striking blue eyes. It was so clear that you had to turn away for it to not consume you as well. For the first time in many years you cursed your role as a watchman when sensations of elf's struggle washed over you. Being able to see and hear all that happened many miles away from Forambar had never been as painful. «Go back,» you repeated once more before hiding away from him behind the door.

______________________________________________________________

By the middle of Víressë [4] Legolas crossed the Old Forest Road and entered the gentle shade of the Great Greenwood. Before long he took notice of a squirrel following in the same direction as him and fished out a few nuts for it from a bag. As his fingers grazed the inner side of the bag he noticed a different sort of texture. Upon further inspection that turned out to be sheets of paper folded multiple times.

Legolas pulled out the whole pile and looked at the outermost page first. It was filled with messy writing, black ink letters scattered across the surface. It took him a few whole moments before he managed to make sense of the words.

«Skies be good your mind will find peace by the time this reaches you for I must confess,» then followed a blot size of a fat bug and more erratic writing, «the truth. Let it be just the truth.»

«I am Morentir, one of the watchmen in the north. That means more than standing on guard somewhere high as people do in other lands. We watch over the entire Harondor with three dozen eyes. That is more than a living man can do. But when our ancestors came from the South, they brought knowledge with them. Spells that allow us to see and hear more than the best hunters can. Magic that makes us see whatever the others witness as clearly as if their eyes belong to us.»

There was a wide gap before the next paragraph just like a heavy sigh.

«This power has... a price. A cost that must be paid. Our hair is short, but even shorter is our memory. We live to guard and guide our people, but we don't live the lives of people. We forget easily and willingly, each day starting anew. We remember the lands and names, spells and runes, but none of us can say for sure what they look like. Sometimes we wake up with a different face, but we're unable to notice the difference.

That must have been what scared you then. Forgive me for that.

And truly did I not recognize you, Legolas. For that I do not seek your forgiveness. I only ask you to read the other page if your soul stirs from the memory or burn it if your heart is at peace.»

Legolas switched his attention to the other sheet without giving it a second thought. His eyes got used to the handwriting already and he easily picked out the words this time. The page seemed to be torn from a journal.

«The day was calm. The north wind brought good omens and guests. The king, Elessar of house Telcontar, who claimed our lands back from Harad and Umbar. He came with only a few of his men. And brought along a friend from afar. An elf. Long has it been, since we heard of elves, even longer since any of us had seen one of them. Legolas is his name. Son of the high king from the Woodland realm. He found the path to Forambar that our people use, that is worthy of respect. And the land liked him more than even some of our children. Truly do elves have their way with nature.

He stands tall and proud, he walks weightlessly and swiftly, he speaks eloquently but rarely. Everything in him is hardly a creation of the ground, but rather that of night air or flourishing forests. I take it that others notice but a half of what my eyes catch though. Therefore I should say more...

Long is his hair and light like the rising sun. The wind plays with it like with the most expensive of silks. His skin is fair, so unlike our people here. But he doesn't seem pale, rather the opposite – life and will is strong in him, so much is evident. His eyes are so blue that the sky seemed embarrassed for the rest of the evening, blushing with sunset... And I blushed with it when his eyes left mine.

The woven shield is asking to be gifted. I can feel the stirring of its power beneath the fabrics. Out of all possible outcomes that one is hardly predictable. But the omens are good. The elf deserves the Gift, and my soul would be free to roam the land further this way.»

There was another gap, wide like a whole paragraph. Next line began with a blot, then a few words were crossed out, another blot and finally something decipherable.

«Good be the skies. What did they send him here for? The Gift is his. I gave it away, the one I made. So easily like it was but the first of many promises.» Something crossed out again. «The omens were good. So said all of us. But it pains me to think that the path may not take him back to Forambar. He took the Gift, nothing more. He doesn't know of our customs, he doesn't seek for our ways, he doesn't belong despite the way grass catches on his boots.» More crossed out. «I will read the spell before the new moon comes. I can hardly find peace of mind if his shadow overtakes mine so easily. He may take the Gift, but not me. My watch is not over yet.»

The words by the edge were crossed out poorly, and Legolas could read them through the thin strokes of ink. «Why would his eyes be so blue? Good be the winds I forget them soon.»

______________________________________________________________ 1 – quenyan equivalent to November. Here and further I refer to months from the King's Reckoning 2 – March 3 – first day of the year, approximately spring equinox 4 – April

[wonijinjin]

THE WEEKND SERIES: REMINDER - YOON JEONGHAN

author’s note: i originally wanted to leave the the dark setting, but i just couldn’t, jeonghan is a cutie. dedicating this to my lovely @welcometomyoasis <3

synopsis: jeonghan shows yet another side of him noone has expected.

word count: 0.5k | genre: fluff, humour/crack, dark themes (horror) | pairing: jeonghan x gn! reader | warnings: cursing, horror/dark themes, blood, injury

the masterpost of this series can be found here.

“fuck you! you are not normal, you are a manipulating psycho.” you spit out while pushing him away from you, just hard enough to make him lose his balance, falling onto his back, smacking his face against the concrete. your eyes widen in horror since you do not expect him to actually hurt himself, but you don’t make an effort to help him regardless. “you are crazy, stay away from me.”you say while staring at his figure. he gets up and holds his hand in front of his face to tap it, revealing a bloody nose upon letting it go. he looks at his hand, then procceeds to smear the blood from his nose while trying to rub it off with his sleeve, a manic smile present on his face. you shiver at the sight; he can always creep you out in a single second, with a single action. he starts laughing. “go, run away. hurry up, leave if you can.” he inches closer to your form, leaning in, a little too close to your liking. you cannot say a word, you are too stunned to speak, gulping, waiting for his next move, prepared for every scenario, because you know he would do anything and everything you could think of. “but let me make this clear.” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his breath fanning out on your exposed neck. “every time you try to forget who i am, i’ll be there to remind you again…you cannot escape from the past.” he smiles so wide you are afraid his jaw will snap out of its place. you watch in fear as he lowers his arm, taking off and running away as soon as he is not in contact with your body anymore. you look back at him one more time and the last thing you can see clearly is his weird expression, something in it really making your blood freeze while leaving him in the dark alley.

“and…cut!” the director shouts, and the lights go out. everyone starts clapping and you burst out in giggles, watching as jeonghan whines about the ‘blood’ on his face. “good job everyone! this was the last take for today.” the camera director announces as you go up to your fellow actor. “you really looked like a maniac there jeonghan, i almost believed you were one for real.” you chuckle as he grins at you, bowing. “what can i say, i am the best for these roles.” you pat his back, getting ready to leave the studio. he walks along your side and you catch a familiar mischievous spark in his eyes. “i saw how you clenched your jaw in the scene earlier. you really thought i was mental back there, didn’t you?” he giggles. “i gotta say i got a bit scared. you make it look so real.” you admit shyly. “don’t worry. shall i remind you that i am a true nice one? how about taking you to dinner now?” he questions. you give him a nod, linking arms with him. “as you wish, nice guy.”

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 4/?

PART 1 , PART 2, PART 3, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Thanks to your support, I am so committed to this. When I finish this, I plan to make it into a long, proper, one-shot- better format and everything!

I've been doing these chapters in the middle of work lmao, so if you see a typo or some edits, it's me rereading it after work.

I'm trying to include more Alastor but he's pretty hard to write.

I used Velvette so much here cos I love her as that bitch you love to hate. She is obviously the spokesperson of the Vees

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

The hotel lobby is filled with unbearable silence as hell's overlords and high members of the Ars Goetia arrive one by one.

Just a few hours ago, Alastor heard from Carmila Carmine that the king had called a meeting for the top ruling people of hell. Charlie doesn't know why her dad called for it in the hotel.

The Ars Goetia (minus Stolas) were whispering among themselves and shooting the sinner overlords dirty looks every now and again. The overlords were good at pretending they couldn't hear anything. Apparently, they at least have the sense to know that that would be a fight they cannot win.

The hotel's residents collectively claimed it as their spot. Husk is talking with Angel quietly, keeping him distracted and out of view of Valentino, Vaggie is holding her spear as she keeps a close eye on the strangers in their home, Nifty is obsessively cleaning a corner of the bar (Husk keeps telling her that it is still dirty just so she won't venture elsewhere), and Cherri is playing with an unlit bomb in her hand.

Rosie and Stolas decided to approach Charlie and Alastor at the bar at the same time, both slightly bowed to her.

Charlie: Prince Stolas. Rosie.

Stolas: Hello, princess.

Charlie: How's Octavia?

Stolas: Via misses your outings together. But she is fine. She's with her mother today.

Rosie: Not that I'm not happy to see ya, Alastor. But why exactly are we here? Our Carmila has not stated a reason why.

Alastor: You know as much as me, my dear.

Stolas: It must be dire. His majesty rarely calls for the Goetia's presence. He is not here yet?

Charlie: No. He went down in Sloth earlier. I'm worried. After what happened yesterday, I..

Rosie: Yesterday? Did something happen, sweetie?

Charlie realizes the slip up and backtracks.

Charlie: Nothing, Rosie!

Rosie gives her a look that tells her they're going to be talking about it later. She gives the overlord a weak thumbs up.

Meanwhile, Velvette decides enough is enough and they have wasted too much time waiting.

Velvette: Ugh! Vois, let's go. This is a fuckin' joke.

Carmila: Velvette, calm yourself.

Valentino: Why should she? I had very important shit to shoot today and me being here is making me lose money.

Alastor: Then perhaps you should step down. Having to attend the bare minimum duty of their title must be so difficult for someone so... undeserving.

The Radio Demon has a giant patronizing grin plastered on his face. Alastor's comment prompted Vox to speak up.

Vox: Oh, you timely piece of shit! Fight us right now, Alastor!

Alastor: How unbecoming. Throwing tantrums in front of royalty!

Velvette: I for one, don't want to sit here waiting for a no-show fossil

Charlie's demon side flares as the demon insults her dad.

Charlie: How fucking dare you?!

Random Goetia: You shall know better than to disrespect your king, insolent pest.

Velvette: Ha! You think we're scared of a bunch of birds?

Alastor: Should have known you three cannot behave for a simple meeting haha!

Soon everyone was yelling obscenities at each other, filling the hotel with chaos. Before a proper fight could break out, the door opens with a bang, silencing every demon.

Lucifer has arrived, following him were the other Sins. They were arguing amongst themselves from behind him. Charlie can only catch glimpses of what is being said as voices overlap each other.

Beelzebub: Bel-

Mammon: Are you fuckin-

Satan: Wrath is-

Leviathan: We cannot-

Asmodeus: Evacuation-

Belphegor: Grown another mile-

Lucifer says nothing the entire time and just takes a seat in the middle of the semi-circle table he conjured up. With the way the table was placed in front of everyone else, Charlie gets the feeling of deja vu of her hearing in heaven. But now her dad will be the one passing judgment.

Most of the sinners in the room back up as the Sins continue to argue with their full form.

Lucifer sits back and raises a hand and the yelling stops.

Back then, she never really understood why demons were afraid of her dad. He was always a silly and happy guy when spending time with her. But one time, she sneaks into his rare meetings with the Sins and sees why he was called the devil.

The anger she saw then could have given her Uncle Satan a run for Uncle Mammon's money.

Lucifer: Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I will cut to the chase. I have called you all here because something is brewing at the very depths of hell. Something that may affect us all.

Stolas: The Ars Goetia is at your disposal, sire. But may I ask what is this about?

Belphegor: I can answer that. A few months ago, an anomaly appeared at the edge of Sloth. It was not a problem until-

She pressed her touchpad and a hologram screen appeared showing the infected ground.

Not a single demon didn't widen their eyes.

Angel: What the fuck is that?

Belphegor: We wouldn't have called you all here if it was not this severe.

She taps and shows a mutilated demon pig.

Belphegor: This is Patient Zero. An animal on a nearby farm made contact with the anomaly. It instantly infected the whole body, controlling the creature whilst killing it slowly. If it can affect an animal like this, we fear what it may do to-

Velvette: And what do you expect us to do about it exactly? Why the fuck would we care about some old place we can't even go to.

Belphegor is briefly stunned by the interruption but ignores the sinner's disrespect.

Belphegor: Because you would have to be naive to think that it will stop in Sloth. We cannot be too careful.

Velvette: So you think we would risk our lives? Yeah. No thanks. How do we even know that it will affect us? It's just a pig. The worst we can get is horrible floor decor.

Lucifer stands up and moves silently towards the middle for everyone to see.

Lucifer: Free will does not mean you are free from consequences.

The king starts to remove his shirt to everyone's panic, except Belphegor.

Mammon: Woah woah, mate. The fuck ya doin?

Lucifer shrugs off the last piece of clothing to reveal the glowing, infected marks. It has not been a day since he touched it but the veins are already covering the entire right half of his torso.

Charlie: Dad!

The princess attempts to go to her father's side but Vaggie holds her back.

Lucifer: Shall we proceed without any more interruptions?

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

What to look forward to in Part 5:

the rest of the meeting

more dialogue from the other Sins. Cannot decide what personality to give to Leviathan.

My HC for Satan is he's like one of those old butler types but has a jacked body (I know he has that workout app, but I'm leaning more of the liver king type of a gentle strongman with anger issues. I don't want him to be a fuckboy gymbro)

more badass lucifer

the Vees getting scolded like the children they are

[day-drawn-blog]

Part III: I meant to say, that I love you, or maybe, fear like a flame, what's happening to me.

- The Power.

Part III : Just tonight, maybe I'll rest in peace

Tags: angst, fluff, sadness, angst, fluff, then maybe eventually smut because I do love that

Part I. Crowned light moon of mine - I found you too soon

Part II : Lace your heart with mine Let your sleeping soul take flight

Part IV : There is much to do and I still want to live

Part V: our futures bound, our bodies known

Part VI : these ain't my sins, I broke my chains

Part VII: You are not mine and am I truly yours

Part VIII: your blood like wine, invites me in

Part IX: I'll welcome my sentence and give you my penance

Part X : I can't go yet...don't let me die

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

Another day, another battle. You shut out Shadowheart's physical closeness and familiarity with Astarion out of your peripheral vision. Because you like her. And this wasn't her fault. You don't want to hate her. But something strange would happen every now and again. Walking along with everyone, during the day, you trying to keep your distance from the two, trailing behind a bit... Astarion would turn back and look at you a few times. Catching you off guard. He would smile if he caught you looking at him sometimes.

What is he playing at.

It's not like we are friends. Not like that....I help him... And we fight together. And then you almost slipped on a cliff trying to go down a cragged rock, he stayed behind a bit, and held his hand out for you. You had to hold it or you would have fallen on your face. Embarrassing. And awkward.

He was happy. Smiling.

Dealing a lot of damage. Energized. His happiness energized you too. You were glad. If being his friend meant such warmth, you would take it. Remember what you want to be. You want to serve and protect. Even those that are too proud to ask for it. Or too lost to hope.

That night at camp was a celebration. You cannot remember why. But a bard was singing. Everyone sat around the fire. Laughing, singing. Drinking. Halsin was throwing someone in the air. Laezel was lecturing Gale on the merits of working out your body as much as the mind.

Once again you were lonely in a crowd.

It's not that you were'nt surrounded by people you loved who loved you back. But, that you sat opposite him. Across the fire. Him next to shadowheart. You between wyll and karlach. Shadowheart was telling him something pouring wine for him. He was laughing at what she said, happy. What a smile. He should smile more. Though he might accidentally show his fangs. You didn't realize you were inadvertently staring at his face. He locked eyes with you. You jolted and looked away.

Dammit.

It's embarrassing as it is, you keep his secret and let him drink you. This ...this is crossing the line even for you. While you looked away from him, your face solemn, between two happy people, Astarion couldn't help but notice. He felt sad. For you. You had helped him so much. Yet you were so sad yourself. He felt powerless. He resolved to come talk to you when he could tear himself away.

You didn't want to linger.

You got up. Took your sword. A bottle. And sulked into the darkness. Away from the merriment. Guilty of leaving those having fun. But you needed to channel your energy. You swing your weapon at a tree a few times, then practiced some moves by yourself. The noise fades away. Your mind quietened. You stopped to catch your breath. To take in the view.

It was breathtaking.

As you were lost taking in the river gleaning in the moonlight in the valley down the cliff, you heard someone approach.

"I saw you leave. I got you some wine". Astarion's smiling face appeared from the shadows. He handed you the bottle. You gratefully accepted. "it's beautiful out here".

Yes it was.

"shall we? :) Everyone is happy back at camp. Come join them" he beckoned. As if he had sought you out just to escort you back. You obliged. Walking back, he expressed his gratitude, and asked if he could come visit you again. That familiar feeling of being used...

But you couldn't say no.

After the merriment of the night, you went back to your tent. Dreading the encounter. Your heart was beating so fast in anticipation of this secret rendezvous. Why did it feel so wrong, yet so exciting. Images of his eyes, his face close to you, bent on your hand, flashed across. The alcohol must be getting to you. You paced around the tent. Shortly after, you heard him approach.

Your heart almost stopped.

He stumbled in. Had he been drinking so much? Shadowheart did make him drink a lot, but still. He ran his fingers through his hair. Smiled his charming smile and came inside. "Are you ready, darling? I can't wait, I'm positively famished" he said reeking of alcohol.

Ugh. Whatever. He is not even in his senses.

What was I expecting. You went to him, half expecting having to support him, but he just plopped down on your pillows. On his back. He beckoned you to come near him. Clearly lacking any energy to sit up. So you sat next to him. Extending your left arm to him. He held it, then smelled your arm. Taking you in.

Weird. You thought.

He then playfully licked your hand, while looking at you. Entwined his fingers with yours, and kissed them again. You could sense your heat rising in you. Your heart pounding, feeling warm down there. What a tease. Just get on with it and be done.

He did something very unusual.

He continued to kiss the back of your hand, trailing up ever so slightly, then licked your hands up and then slowly down a bit back to your fingertips. He then turned your hand over and kissed your palm. He was on his back the whole time.

Does he think you are her?

What is he doing? You were getting flustered, humiliated...but you didn't want him to stop. You were greedy. Just when you were about to ask him, he bit you. The sharp pang was surprising this time. He wasn't being gentle, you let out a little moan, looking away, then dropping down next to him. You felt drained. The feelings were too much to handle.

Principles be damned.

You want to savor the moment. The man you yearn for, right next to you. Your shoulders touching. Lying on your back, next to each other, hearing each other's breath. His face so close to you, with your hand on his lips. His thighs next to yours. You want to touch him...

But can you?

You shouldn't. Must not. Maintain your dignity. You urged yourself. Please. You don't want to stoop so low. He let go... With another kiss on your hand, he licked the droplets, then turned to look at you. You could smell the alcohol again. His eyes were happy, he was smiling. He looked nothing like the deceptive manipulative rogue you think he is, at that time. Just someone, very happy, very safe, very content.

Isn't shadowheart waiting?

You wanted to ask. But it wasn't your place. So you let him be. He held your hand in his. Entwined your fingers. And he showed no signs of getting up. Much to your panic. Is he going to be here all night? He can't be planning to? You propped yourself up on your elbows. To get a look at his face. But he was already asleep!

This....son of a gun!! He was passed right out.

Part IV : There is much to do and I still want to live

[oh-saints]

anything with max please! but please make it happy ending?

taking a little break from footballers, shall we?

you

despite all the success and achievements max verstappen has secured in his bag, there's still one thing he wishes to have but knows he can't.

max verstappen x doctor!reader

note: this is inspired by one of the scene from one of my favourite kdrama; hospital playlist (s1; 2020). i hope i do the drama some justice for its amazing rollercoaster ride (#spoiler) so max can be humbled for a minute. but this time, i happen to write during my family trip so this is not proof-read yet.

when the name of his very bestfriend popped up, max couldn't hold back from smiling.

he'd previously told her that he's coming back tonight and asked if she was free for a catch up session. due to the nature of their jobs, the two friends couldn't see each other as much as they'd love to.

if he had his way, she wouldn't be working as hard as she is now. nothing in this world can make max's life better—and this was saying a lot when he's achieved everything earthly possible—than to have her at every race. win or lose, max knows there's always someone waiting on him to cross the finish line, as long as he's safe and sound.

nobody ever asks that of him. it's always wins, titles. no matter the cost, no matter the consequence of this very dangerous sport.

"hi—"

"can you come over tonight?"

max's heart immediately took a free dive.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

"so sorry i called you very late into the night,"

she didn't let him express how much he'd missed seeing her. as soon as she opened the door, she strode back inside of her apartment. her hands immediately reached for the white pristine coat hanging on the wall as she passed by.

"i got a call from the hospital but my nanny's not picking up,"

max was still silent. they'd fallen into the habit of her saying the same thing and he'd remembered them all by now. after this, she'd cited her usual justification. "sorry, i forgot telling you about it because there's always someone calling me when i want to do that."

"sorry, i forgot to tell you—"

"i know, i understand," and max truly does. with how little monaco is, he understands she becomes a well-sought surgeon here. he's actually rather proud, if anything. "go save the world."

she looked up at him from behind the kitchen counter, and max swore she looked dashing as ever, with the gentle yellow lighting highlighting her features. she is one of the rare kind, one who never needs an elaborative piece of clothing to enhance her beauty. she is inner beauty personified—at least per max's standard, but supposedly it says a lot because max isn't kidding when he said he'd seen the bests of the world.

"thank you, max. you don't know how grateful i am of you," and that smile right there, radiating gentleness and calmness and pure yet gratitude, is the very reason why he always heeds to her whims. "but my kid's burning right now so can you do things i've listed down here while i'm gone?"

"sure."

there went another of max's resolution, even before he knows what she'd asked of him. he's so puny in her hands that his father once gaslighted him with her as a bait. so different to the cold, ruthless max verstappen everyone labels him to be.

after running through everything on the list together and making sure max understood them once more, for she wouldn't be able to be contacted for at least the next 3 hours, she finally put her arms to the coat hanging on her shoulder proudly. she reached for her bag, and when she was about to pick up the car keys, max halted her hand.

"please use taxi," he said, and she wondered why. "for my sanity sake, knowing you'll make it safe there."

she wanted to argue that there was no guarantee she'd make it safe with a taxi, no different than driving on her own, but she nodded wordlessly. she'd asked max to come down here in short notice, not long after he told her he was in town and only to make him babysit her kid, but he'd come with no question asked. taking taxi was the least she could do for him.

it seemed like the kid knew she left their home, for the cry ensued not long after, like a chick looking for the hen. thankfully it wasn't max's first rodeo, more over when his girlfriend has her kid of her own.

unfortunately.

"hey, hey," he cooed gently, and the little one scratched the teary eyes, crying stopped at the sight of max. he was always the favourite in this household, always coming here with something in his hands the kid doesn't know it exists. toys, actions figures, you name it. "are you okay?"

"maxie?" suddenly he remembered his sister's comment about his father instinct spiking whenever this particular kid was around. he'd even let them call him by his first name, no specific title else needed. so unlike him, when he taught leo and luka to call him by "oom maxie" or uncle maxie in dutch.

"thirsty or hungry, schatje?" max immediately picked up the split version of his best friend, and the feeling of being hugged back affectionately by his best friend's entire world contended the best feeling in the world for him. it was as if the little treasure was trying to get a hold of him entirely with their little arms and hands, like he meant the world for them.

like he is the world to them as much as the kid means the world to him. oh, if only they knew...

the kid passionately shook their head as soon as they tucked themselves comfortably against the crook of his neck. max paced back and forth for them, in hope his bouncy steps would calm them down.

"alright, lieve. you let me know when you do, okay?"

but he was only met by soft snores.

he peered down at his best friend's entire world, the axis to her existence, the reason behind her juggling her personal and professional world just to make sure they get only the best of both worlds. for that alone, max had already loved the kid like his own.

and he'd love to have them as his own, providing everything the kid's heart desire, knowing he could give them everything of it at a heartbeat. knowing he could give them what they deserve, after being deprived of a proper, fatherly love for so long.

if only she let him. if only she saw him as one.

but max knew it all boiled down to him. if only he'd denied her desire to get married to that good-for-nothing that turned out to be a cheating bastard she called her ex-husband, she wouldn't have to suffer everything of this on her own. the child didn't have to go through all the mess life would bring to someone so early in their age.

it pained him that he never let out the "marry me instead" that was poking the tip of his tongue when she'd asked you to be her men of honour. it hurt max verstappen to the point of no return, more than being robbed a championship win, that he could've had the smart kid with her instead from a long time ago, and a life he'd always dreamed of building.

with her, and no one else.

because he knew that whatever he was feeling right now, as he was holding her entire life in the home she built so hard despite the single-mother stigma, is the closest thing to right in this life that feels so wrong.

not even his multiple championship titles he had in his bag. not even the feeling of winning a race so many he'd grown accustomed to. per max verstappen's standard, that was given; with so much hard work he'd been putting since he could walk, thanks to his father.

his phone dinged, breaking his train of thought. it was the alarm that he'd set up to remind him of the checklist she'd made for him. the sound stirred the child in their sleep, and as they noticed him walking away from the room, they whined, "please stay, maxie."

like the effect of the mother had on him, he succumbed to the whim. but good lord, my goodness, there had never been something as liberating as that. it was a paradoxic feeling where you don't feel weak as you surrender yourself, instead it grew so much on him that someone needed him. it feels so damn good to be needed by someone, his heart soared so high as the revelation hit him.

maybe that was what max verstappen had been yearning for.

that one piece in his life that anyone around him didn't know how to fill the void. a home to go back to, he thought, as he fell asleep in such a ridiculous position to fit the crib's size.

but due to his lightning reflex towards every sound and movement around him, max jolted up when he heard a click of the door closing. it was small; he deducted it wasn't mean to be disturbing.

that could only be her checking up on him.

the kid was now drenched in sweat in his embrace, so he decided to change the pajamas first before heading out of the nursery. he did it as fast as he could because he knew she was making his favourite mushroom soup outside from the smell of it.

the pang on his chest came back as he got out of the child's room, only to be met by his best friend's back from the kitchen, busy scooping her signature delicacy to a bowl matching the set only designated for her and her child—his bowl—because it looked so domestic. they looked so domestic like this. they looked like they'd make a great family.

yes, it wasn't the first time they did this, but that was what made it hurt all the same everytime he came over.

"how was the surgery?"

just in time when she turned her body to him. she smiled immediately, both at the sight of a disheveled max and at the question thrown at her. max looked so bulky in the house full of her delicate touch, so different yet not out of touch, for his question brought warmth to her chest.

it'd been a while since someone had asked the question—the simplest question of asking how she'd been holding up at work—that didn't come out from her child's mouth. from someone who actually knew how hard it was to make a living. from someone who was genuinely interested at what she did. from someone all of the above.

"got a bleeding out of hand but all's good now," she'd spare the bloody detail later. right now, she just wanted to bask how peaceful their rhythms are as the f1 winner took a seat on the other end of the kitchen counter. "i hope my kid's not a hassle for you."

"you and your kid can never be a hassle to me," max made sure to stare down at her as he replied her, wanting her to know he wasn't kidding. "i love spending time with you two."

and it scared her deep down to see max so set on what he said. she could only hope he wasn't implying anything else behind his words, for she was afraid it would bring unattained hope to her heart.

despite her strong display she'd paraded around the town, she is only a human with two hands and feet and a heart. and she is a woman, first and foremost, who was once in love in max verstappen.

the real max verstappen before all the achievements, the fame, the titles. when max verstappen had eyes only for the glory, and never hungry for anything else.

but the one-sided journey could be so lonely, she never realised that. it resulted her finding love in a hopeless place. at least that was was she thought, love, until she discovered her ex was cheating with one of her fellow doctors.

so she knew she had to extinguish every kind of sparks before it grew stronger. especially now, where every of her decision doesn't only affect her, but her child also.

"spend your time for something else, max," she smiled bitterly now and max already hated whatever her mind fed her just seconds ago. "tell me, what's your favourite thing to do in your spare time? going for a vacation?"

"whatever it is we're doing now," max replied, soup still untouched. it frightened her that the eyes were not just set anymore; she'd recognised that winning determination anywhere. "wanna know why?"

she sat down, eyes trying to hold his, ignoring the fluttering feeling inside of her and set her mind to simply wanting to know the words he had in mind. max took it as an invitation to might as well break it down.

"because it's you. it's always been you."

[ultralightpoe]

The Marriage - Aemond Targaryen

Authors Note: A concussion piled on top of a stomach flu on top of period pains and family drama and work drama. Wish me luck everyone. REQUESTS ARE OPEN BUT THEY MAY TAKE ME A MINUTE, I AM SORRY 

Warnings: Idk, lemme know? 

Word Count: 3517

Description:  REQUEST 

The sunlight of the day begins to peak into the room as you lay on Aemonds bed, knowing you would have to get up soon. But how could you? His arm was locked tight around your waist and his hair strewn out across the pillow you both shared as he slept away. 

“Aemond…” You whispered, a dreadful feeling having to wake him up and go back to normal life as he did as well. 

You wanted to stay here forever, be his in whatever way he asked and sleep the days away, marry him and brush his hair every night. But that was a false dream, one that would never happen. 

You were a ladies maid for his sister, Helaena, and had helped her through all of her pregnancies while catching his eye. It wasn’t long before he was stealing kisses in alcoves and dragging you to his chambers as you giggled. 

But with every night of passion, with every night of whispering praises and moments of love, came the bland morning after where you would leave his chambers and go back to not existing to him in the public eye. 

“Aemond” You try again, bringing a finger up to rub his cheek, successfully pulling his from his slumber as he looks around confused. 

“Why have you woken me little healer?” He yawns, stretching his body slowly and groaning when you use this as a chance to escape his hold. “No no no. Get back here.”

He wraps his arm around you once more, pulling you into the sheets as you laugh, kissing up your chest slowly.

“Aemond, I have to see to your sister.” You remind him, heart beating through your chest as he looks at you, eye squinted. “It is my morning-”

“Fuck your shift.” He smiles, diving to tickle you. You allow him to do so for a moment before crawling free from his grasp, grabbing your dress from the floor. 

“I will see you tonight?” You remind him, leaning forward to kiss him softly. His hand grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in deeper, a small groan leaving his lips as he does so. 

When you finally pull back he smiles softly at you, allowing you to leave the room and sneak your way to his sisters chambers. 

“Good morning Princess Helaena.” You bow, giving her a soft smile as she does the same, taking a second to clean up after her eldest child before moving to check on her bump. 

You had been a healer of the tower, some even said magic, when you were sent to kings landing to learn under the maestor. It wasn’t long before the ladies soon began asking for you as their handmaidens and nurse during pregnancies and labor. But none have ever been as kind as Helaena.

“Have you eaten?” She asks, a small raise of her brow as you touch her stomach lightly. 

“It is I who should be asking you that question your highness.” You smile and she kisses your forehead swiftly. You learned quite quickly that Helaena had random bursts of physical affection here and there, something to show her love since her words sometimes were confusing. 

“I know how late my brother likes to keep yo-”

“Princess.” You whisper quickly, an embarrassed blush traveling your body as she giggles. “No one can know.”

“Oh my mistake, I spoke too loudly in a room with one other person who happens to be my toddler.” She teases and you smile back. “I shall call for some breakfast.”

You laugh, standing to your full height and helping her stand, keeping a hand on her back to help her to the door.

You spent the morning with Helaena, brewing her a tonic to keep her healthy and kissing her forehead before dismissing yourself and making your way down to the village just as you always did. 

It was a secret kept between you and Helaena, one that she thoroughly enjoyed. Every afternoon she would cover for you, feigning that she had sent you to town for something she needed while you were actually seeing people who needed a healer. 

The brothel was always your first stop, catching them before their busiest hours. Madame Lersel swings the door open to greet you, a cheerful smile on her face as you greet her. 

“Never thought I would be happy to see a healer in me life.” She teases, hands reaching up to fix your hair. “The red keep been treatin ya well lovey?”

“It’s been amazing to me.” You answer with a smile, blushing a bit when her fingers trace over one of the marks Aemond had left on your neck the other night. 

“Come in, come in.” She rushes, slamming the door behind you as she leads you up the stairs. “You hear anythin’ on goin back home yet?”

“Not quite.” A lie. The queen, Alicent, had actually allowed you the privilege of going back home whenever you decided the time was right. But Aemond had changed those plans, and you had been holding off to stay with him. 

“Well if ya do, just know the girls and I will be here to help ya.” She smiles, pulling you into the room with the youngest girl. 

You spent the rest of the afternoon healing the females of the brothel before moving on to stable workers and farmers, your nose was bleeding badly by the end of the night and the front of your gown had been stained but you still managed to pick up some of Helaenas favortie flowers and make your way back to the keep. 

You made your way tiredly to her rooms, rubbing the blood from your nose and the sleep from your eyes as you walked in, a small smile etched on your face. It falls when you see Aemond there with his hands crossed behind his back, glowering at his sister.

“Did you send her with any protection at all?” He snaps and Helaena rolls her eyes, fixing her dress.

“I just sent Y/n out for some essentials, she should be back anytime now brother.”

“If people find out she is a royal healer they could attempt to hurt her, how foolish you are dear sister-” He rants, turning sharply before seeing you. “What. Happened.”

It’s then that Helaena sees you as well, gasping softly as she sees the blood down the front of your dress. “Oh Y/n…”

Within moments both siblings are on you, Aemond rushing to sit you down and helaena gripping your hand as you begin to get embarrassed. “It’s fine, truly I am alright-”

“Who did this to you?” Aemond snaps, hand coming to rub your jaw. “Tell me and I will have their head-”

“I am fine.” You say a little louder, catching his hand. “You must not worry,”

“You over did it again, Y/n we have talked about this.” Helaena mumbles and her brother is looking at her in an instant. 

“Overdid what? What have you done?”

“I was just healing and got a little carried away,” You explain, smiling as he clutches your arms. “It is fine. I am in need of rest.”

Aemond nods, moving to help you stand before holding out a hand. He raises an eyebrow when you do not move to grab it. “Shall we?”

“Aemond-”

“It would be improper brother. People will see.” Helaena snaps. “You go ahead, I shall escort Y/n to your rooms.”

Aemond looks as if he is about to argue, jaw tensing as he nods his head and storms out of the room, hands clenched. You turn to Helaena with a questioning glace and she giggles. “He had an important meeting with our mother today, once he got out early he rushed to come see you.” 

You smile softly, grasping her elbow as she makes her way to Aemonds chambers where he is waiting at the door, an anxious look on his face. 

“You took your time sister.” He snaps, closing the door behind the two of you and rushing you closer to the fire to where a warm rag sits. 

“I shall excuse myself before my brother gets hit.” She yawns, making her way back out of the rooms while Aemond begins cleaning the blood marks off your face softly.

“I have never seen you bleed whilst healing…..do explain dear one.” He murmurs, a slight smirk laced onto his lips as he wipes down your neck. 

“I went into town.” You admit, watching him closely. Something about him seemed tense tonight and you couldn’t place it.

“What on earth were you healing in town that caused this much of a nosebleed?”

“What has gotten you so tense tonight?” You whisper, grabbing one of his hands into your own. 

“I came to find you and I was told you went to the-”

“You came early. I would have been back before you got there.”

“This is a normal thing then?” He questions, the raise in his brow telling you he was not happy. 

“Aemond. What is wrong?” You ask, leaning in. He breathes out when your noses touch and leans in to kiss you. 

“I am to be married.” It was like a bucket of freezing water was washed over you, launching back from the kiss and standing from the chair. “Y/n… please don’t-”

“To who?” You ask, breath leaving your lungs as your eyes well up.

“A Baratheon girl.”

“When?”

“I leave tomorrow to choose her.” He says plainly, figure tensing. “Don’t get angry.”

“I am not angry.”

“You knew this was to happen one day.” He snaps, turning away from you as you begin pacing. He’s right, you did. You had always known, so why did this hurt so bad?

“I am aware  Aemond,” You breathe out, eyes leaking as you try to catch your breath.

He can’t help but get defensive, a scowl crossing his features as he glares at you, a feeling of dread in his stomach. “If you wish to act like a child you can leave. I am in no mood tonight.”

Your head whips to look at him, a betrayed feeling filling you. “Am I not allowed a moment to think about this? I have given everything to you Aemond, I have given you my heart and my honor-”

“And what? Don’t tell me you expected to marry me….. You’re a lowborn Y/n.” He can’t stop the venom laced into his words, but he feels sick as he says them nonetheless. Watching you freeze in your tracks as he glares some more, still kneeling in the rug before the fire.

“So this is how it is to be? You use me then the second they throw a pretty little wife your way you are going to throw me out like a common whore?” 

“Don’t act like you are innocent in thi-”

“IM NOT!” You scream, before wiping at your face and nodding. “I will see myself out.”

He launches from the rug to stop you before you can go, murmuring your name softly as a feeling of panic claws up his throat while you shove him off. “Just wait, we can figure this out. You can be our healer and-”

“You want me to be your whore and take care of your wife?” You sneer, shoving him off and storming out. He hears the guards ask if you are alright, hands clenched in anger as you sniffle out your answer. 

He debates storming to find you all night, but he knows you need time, he would get this all fixed and you would come back to him. He just needed to give you time. 

So he paces his room until the sun comes up and then dresses in his traveling leathers, making his way to his sisters rooms to visit her before he leaves. He looks around for you as his pregnant sister gives him a kiss goodbye, giving him a knowing look. “She is not here.”

“Why is that? She is always here in the morn-”

“I gave her the day off.” She lies, looking to the floor just as she always did when she wasn’t telling the truth. “She will be back tomorrow.”

He nods, his mouth going dry as he moves to leave, checking the maestors office once before climbing on Vhagar and taking off. 

You had shown up to the brothel with no shoes, dried blood still on your dress and salty tears coating your cheeks as you pounded on the back door loudly. 

Madame Lersels youngest daughter answers, an excited look forming into one of shock as she sees you. “Lady Y/n-”

She is pulling you into the building then, launching to grab the blanket she had been curled up in before you got there. “Let me fetch mother.”

You see her disappear from sight before her mother is coming into view, kneeling before you. “Did someone hurt you?”

You shake your head, an embarrassed feeling crossing you. “No one hurt me. I must look like a fool to be showing up like-”

She stops you with a finger on your lips and a small hum. “Just because they didn’t hurt you physically doesn’t mean they didn’t hurt you.”

You nod slowly, letting her pull you into her embrace and lead you to one of the empty rooms. You tell her everything, a small smile on her face as she listens intently. “I want to go home. I don’t want to see him.”

“But you love him.” She whispers, brushing the hair out of your face.

“I can’t have him. And I don’t want to hurt anymore.” You admit, clinging to her while she laughs. 

“Oh, the pains of love.” She agrees, laying with you. “When the sun comes up we shall send you home dearest.”

And they did. When you awoke the next morning, throat dry from crying and eyes puffy, you were greeted with her three daughters all coming into the room. They gave you a dress and boots for the travel, a new cloak and a sack of coins to make the journey.

You thanked them all, moving to hug Madame Lersel. 

“I sent a raven to the queen, telling her you would be heading home.” She says, kissing your forehead and leading you to the market. “I also arranged for you to head out with a traveling group.”

“I don’t know how to pay you…..”

“You’ve been healing my girls since you were brought here at the small age of 12. You need not repay me. This is only a small amount of what we owe you, healer.” 

“I never did any of that for a debt-” You rush out and she laughs, nodding. 

“I know. That’s why I am so willing to help you.” She admits, holding your arm tightly. “You ever need anythin else dear healer you just come and find me.”

You give her a tearful goodbye before loading into the wagon, smiling at the young female you would be sitting by. She waves at you as the wagon begins moving, throwing out kisses as you laugh. 

Aemond returns a week later, his entire being rigid and angry as he dismounts Vhagar. His grandfather and mother are already there when he lands in the sands beneath him, both swarming him for answers as he tries to shove past them. 

He needed to see you, needed to see if you were okay and he needed to fix this rift. You had plagued his entire being, only thinking of you this past week and it was beginning to tear him apart. 

“Aemond- I received a note from Baratheon this morn-” 

“I need to head off Grandfather-”

“AEMOND TARGARYEN!” Otto shouts, anger fueling his entire being. Aemond whips around to glare at him, shoulders tensing as Alicent jumps in front of her son, glaring at her own father. 

“I received word that you denied all of the Baratheon girls for a COMMON WHORE-”

“WATCH YOUR TONGUE-” Aemond shouts, launching forward but his mother shoves him back and turns to her father once more. 

“It is his decision.” Alicent snaps, when he looks to argue she shakes her head. “He has already denounced the other suitors. He made his move. We must accept it.”

“You would allow him to marry a lowborn skunk?”

“I would allow him to marry a master healer. I would.” She nods, turning to nod at Aemond who gives her a grateful look before stomping off to find you. 

His first stop is his chambers, where you had always waited for him when you saw Vhagar land. He burst the doors open to be greeted with silence, a small amount of panic seizing him but he calms himself. 

You must be with Helaena, she was far into her pregnancy and you had always been worried about Targaryens through pregnancies so he picked up his pace and rushed to his sisters chambers. 

He doesn’t wait for the guards to announce him, once again bursting into the room. A group of maids all gasp and stand at attention as he looks around, no sister or you in sight. “Where can I find Princess Helaena?”

“I… I am not sure Prince Aemond.” The redhead maid says fearfully, bowing slowly. He doesn’t thank her as he leaves, rushing to the maestors temple and looking there. 

“Ah Prince Aemond, what a pleasure-”

“Where is Y/n?”

The Maestor looks confused for a moment before shaking his head and shrugging. Once Aemond forgoes his manners and storms off, finally finding Helaena in the gardens.

“Helaena!” He calls, looking around to where you could be hiding. He hears his sister mutter a slight curse as she stands, holding out her hands.

“She is not here-”

“You sent her to town again?” He smiles, feet already moving to go find you but his ister is snatching his arm.

“She has left Aemond.”

“Left?”

“We received notice the day you left. She is moving her studies-”

“She sent the notice?”

“No. Madame Lersel of Brothel Helm sent it.” Helaena mutters, pulling the note from her locket and handing it to her brother. She mutters a soft apology as he leaves, hands clenched around the parchment while he snatches his cloak and whips it over his head. 

He pounds on the door, half his face hidden by the cloak as people pass by. A small 10 year old whips the door open with a stick in her hand and a fierce look in her eyes. “WE ARE NOT OPEN UNTIL NIGHTFALL!” 

“I am not here for the whores-” He snaps, an odd feeling in his chest as he argues with a young girl. “Where is your adult? Your owner?”

“My MOTHER is upstairs.” She snaps, glaring harder. 

Aemond nods and moves to pass her but she blocks the door and hits his chest with the stick. “There is a fee.”

“I’m not here to get it wet. I am here to speak with Madame Lers-”

“There. Is. A. Fee.”

“Fine. How much?”

“10 quid.”

“10 QUID?!” His eye widens in shock as the girl before him gives a victorious smirk. 

“Meetings outside of her business hours are expensive, see you tonight one eye.” She moves to slam the door then, but his boot catches in the frame and he debates just shoving her out of the way before pulling out the coins. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

He lets out a disgruntled ‘hmm’ as she lets him inside, waltzing up the stairs to find Madame Lersel. 

The lady, older than he would have thought but still younger than a hag, gave him a knowing smile as he came in. 

“That cloak is familiar but I am used to a more heartwarming face under it.” She laughs, a small feeling of pride filling his chest at the thought of you wearing his cloak. 

“She wore it?”

“Everyday she came in.”

“Why was she here?”

“To help my girls.” The lady shrugs, rubbing a damp washcloth over the head of the female in front of her on the bed, gasping in pain. “I should have known you would come around askin for her.”

“Where can I find her?”

“You cannot Prince.” She sighs, ringing the rag into the water, the blood marking the water a pink color. 

“Where have you hidden her?”

“She went home. To the tower. No males can enter.” She snaps, a strong brow raising. “She will be back in summer.”

“I cannot wait until sum-”

“Get married. Get your wife pregnant. I’m sure the healer will be back in time for your babe.” The women scoffs, casting a look to the girl in front of her once more. It was a dismissal that he took, stomping back out as his throat began closing up.

He could break the rules, fly to the tower and find you, but that would be treason. There were rules, no males allowed in the healers tower. 

He would have to wait for you to get back. And he would. 

AEMOND TAGLIST:

@Padfooteyes

@Schniiipsel

@Sluttyaemond

@Lovelynerdytraveler

@Rosaryos

@Bbyhangman

@Winxschester

@Neenieweenie

@Anthonys-viscountess

@Ggglitch-exe

@Shnadaidas

@Gaisse-blog

@Dudfahsn

@Afro-hispwriter

@Ghosstbb

@Nerdy4itall

@Gawabby

@Abrielleholland

@Chevyharvelle

@Gloryekaterina

@Immyowndefender

@Ichanelvxgue

@Dangerousbluebirdpoetry

@Destroyingdestiny

@Minaxcarter

@Lawlerek

@Tivedetek4869

@Shawin02

@Maplumebleue-blog-blog

@Applepyesworld

@Solacestyles

@Xinsonyax

@Crazylokonugget

@Mrswhitethornbelikov

@Yu3kkii

@Mell-bell

@Justsumtuffstuff

@Icarusignite

@Nellanottevedote

@Princessmiaelicia

@Ciaraguy9

@m1ndbrand

@bregarc

@justsumtuffstuff

@lilbug139

@Valhallavalkyrie9

@Disturbing-love666

@Kittykylax

[desires-of-chain]

A Smell So Sweet

It’s been a while, but here I am, back once more, wizard anon! This one has been sitting in my docs half finished for like, a month, and I am finally here to deliver some Twilight content for y'all. And perhaps the other things I’ve written shall see the light of day sometime soon…

Anyway, on with the show!

Content: gender neutral reader, Twilight and his enhanced nose, and his scent kink, eating out/giving head, facefucking, facials. Word count: 942

—-

You pull your hand out of your underwear frantically, standing back from the tree you were leant against. Shit, you completely forgot about Twilight’s patrol tonight.

You hear his boots crunching against the leaves and twigs of the forest underbrush, heading straight towards you, and you curse the wolf form for giving him heightened sense of smell. There’s no way he doesn’t know what you came out here to do. When he calls out your name, voice dropped an octave lower than usual, your fate is sealed.

“I could’ve helped you back at camp, y’know.” He leans up against the tree you originally rested your back on to take care of your… business.

“And wake everyone up? No thanks. I can take care of this just fine.”

You begin to back away from Twilight, if only to lessen the smell and thus make it less awkward for him, but he stalks after you. It feels like you’re being hunted, the way he keeps his eyes trained on your body. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t incredibly hot. That he… sniffed you out, compelled to be close to you simply by smelling your own need.

“Would you enjoy if I helped you take care of it?”

Goddess, yes you would. If he had waited any longer before interrupting, you are sure he would’ve heard his name out of your mouth as you touched yourself.

You’re about to say so when you trip over a tree root and go tumbling backwards. Twilight tries to catch you, but instead ends up on top of you, almost pinning you down. If you weren’t one half stunned and the other half horny your brain would likely believe it was on purpose. As it stands, all you can think about is the weight of his bulk pushing your legs apart around his hips.

“You smell so fucking good…” He leans down and begins peppering kisses along your neck and collarbone - you’re only in your loose underlayers, since it’s the middle of the night. Twilight could get to any of you with ease, and the hands crawling across your stomach and chest confirm it. Your hands go to the hem of your trousers, trying to push them out of the way.

“C'mon then, show me a good time.”

He shifts away from you just enough to allow you to discard your trousers, lower half now bare and at the mercy of the elements - and Twilight’s mouth, as he immediately shuffles down and begins biting and kissing your thighs. You breathe heavily through the sensations, thighs sensitive and ticklish. Then strong hands push your legs to bracket his face and he moves closer to your need.

“You’re irresistible. I could smell you all the way back at camp - goddess, I needed to get my mouth on you.” He leans down and drags his tongue up the length of you. You can’t help but cry out, warmth of his mouth and texture of his tongue shocking pleasure through your system. He keeps his lips moving, shifting to your most sensitive part and taking it into his mouth. Then he sucks, looking back up at you with open pleading eyes.

“Fucking hell, rancher… you really are desperate for it.” He moans against you, and you moan in turn at the vibrations. His hands push you further against his face, back and forth, and through the haze of the pleasure you figure out what he wants you to do.

You buck up. He takes it, tongue pushing out of his mouth to catch more of you, his face the picture of bliss.

Within no time, you’re properly fucking his face, chasing your pleasure against him as he laps you up willingly. Neither of you are quiet - both too preoccupied to worry about if anyone hears, Twilight moaning against you with every buck and swirl of his tongue, yourself too caught up in the feeling to even know what sounds are coming out of your mouth.

Your hands come down to weave into his hair as you get closer to your peak, controlling his movement and really pushing yourself into his mouth. He welcomes the force easily, letting you move his head any way you wish.

When you orgasm, you cover the bottom half of Twilight’s face in your spend. Catching your breath, you try to apologise - but the words die in your throat as you take in his expression.

Pure, unmistakable happiness and satisfaction.

He sits back on his knees, dazedly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, staring down at you. Then, he finally seems to get his wits about him - his face flushes three shades darker, and he fumbles around himself for your discarded clothes.

“Sorry, I, er– I don’t fully know what came over me. I just– you smelled so good. Sorry if I came on too strong—” You rise to your knees and grab his chin. Your hand found your trousers half way through his rambling, and you pull the bottom of one of the legs up to his face.

“This looks good on you.” You say, slowly and gently wiping his face. “Don’t apologise. I was into it.” You finish up with a kiss - still slightly tasting yourself on his lips. He just stares back. Even as you pull your trousers back on, beckoning him to stand and head back to camp with you, he kneels there with a dumb blank look on his face.

Suddenly realising he’s about to be left behind, he scrambles to his feet after you, following you with a half pleading,

“Does that mean we can do this again?” ---------------------------- jkdflsjkfhjdsflsd, THAT’S SUM GOOD SHIT RIGHT THERE. GOOD SHIT I TELL YA

[leiawritesstories]

PART NINE: SEPTEMBER

Word count: 10.7k

Warnings: *covers eyes* swearing, a shitload of scheming, Maeve being her usual self, police presence, angst, one NSFW scene, and um maybe some angst *runs away*

All my thanks to my lovely betas @mariaofdoranelle & @house-of-galathynius love you guys 🫶🫶

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aelin had felt ice prickling at her spine for a handful of weeks now, and as she walked into her office on the morning of September 6th, she knew it was time to put the contingency plans into motion. Ever since Arobynn’s demise, she had sensed that her Boss days were numbered, so she’d been working on a range of options for what she could do if—when—she was discovered. 

She almost couldn’t stomach the idea of letting her beloved company go, but it had to happen. 

Elide, Nehemia, Ansel, and Lysandra all came to her office at eleven, as she’d asked, each woman wearing an expression of a different level of confusion. 

“What’s up, boss lady?” Elide broke the film of tension as she sat down, fixing Aelin with a look that was equal parts concerned and hesitant. 

Aelin twisted her ring beneath the surface of her desk. “I asked if you would all meet me because I…because…” She pressed her lips together and took a deep, steadying breath. “Because there are some documents that I need you to sign.” 

“Why does this sound ominous?” Ansel’s eyes narrowed. 

“It’s a contingency,” Aelin admitted. 

“For what?” Her lawyer was nothing if not persistent and exacting. 

Pain wrinkled Aelin’s forehead. “For if—when—the law catches up to everything and everyone that I am.” Her words dropped like stones in the silence of her office. 

Lysandra’s brows crinkled in unspoken sympathy. “Will you tell us about this contingency before we have papers pushed at us?” 

Aelin cracked a half-grin. “It’s pretty simple, honestly. If I should be, shall we say, involved in a shockingly lurid criminal trial, I vacate the CEO position and completely step away from the company. Ells, you become CEO in my place. Lys, you assume the COO role. Ansel, you’ll probably be faced with the impossible task of defending my guilty ass, but you’ll retain your position here, and you’ll have full authority over the company’s finances.” She exhaled, twisting her ring around her middle finger. “Nehemia will remain in charge of the labs.” 

Elide curled her fingers around the edge of Aelin’s desk. “Why me?” 

“Because you’re not only the right woman for the job, you’re the perfect woman.” Aelin met her dear friend and lifelong business partner’s heavy gaze. “Ells, you’ve practically given your life to this company, and I trust you completely to guide us through whatever fallout happens when the law catches up to the Boss.” 

“You said when.” Lys broke in. 

Aelin nodded. 

Lys drummed her fingertips against her thigh. “Why did you say when?”

“Because I’m afraid it’s inevitable,” Aelin murmured. “I…something tells me that shit’s going to come crashing down. Soon.” A haunted look flickered through her eyes. 

Nehemia’s penetrating gaze fixed on Aelin for a long moment before she picked up a pen, pulled the stack of papers towards herself, and began working through the pages, signing where it indicated. The office was silent as the chief engineer worked, and when she finished, she simply laid down the pen, nudged the papers back to the middle of the table, and folded her hands. “I trust you, Ae,” she said. “I want to protect this place and these people too.” 

Unexpectedly, Aelin’s eyes watered. “I don’t deserve you, Nemi.” her voice cracked. 

“Nonsense.” Nehemia returned. “We’d all have left a very long time ago if we weren’t determined to keep Gal Inc alive and well.” 

Elide nodded as she picked up the contracts and the pen. “I second that.” 

The office was silent again as Elide worked through the papers, carefully reading each section before she signed and initialed the dotted lines. When she reached the final line, her hand faltered slightly, but she set her jaw and signed her name, accepting the role that she couldn’t help but feel would fall upon her before the end of the year. 

“Let me know when you want to talk about the transition,” she said quietly. Aelin’s eyes were glassy as she nodded. 

Surprisingly, Ansel was the next one to sign the papers, not really reading any of the text as she worked through the signatures. She had been the one to draw them up, albeit reluctantly and with a hell of a lot of questions about the motivation, when Aelin had come to her a few weeks ago. “I still don’t like the fatalism of all of this,” she remarked as she slid the stack of papers into the center of the table. “It feels…Ae, I’m going to be blunt here. This feels like you’re about to make some big, splashy statement to the press and bring down the cops and the TSF all over the place.” 

Aelin flinched. “No.” 

Ansel raised a brow. “No?” 

“No.” Emphatically, Aelin shook her head. “My goal with…with the Boss has always been to stick to the shadows. It wouldn’t make any sense to pull off some kind of grand reveal, which would just jeopardize the safety of these plans.” She tapped the stack of papers. “I have this sense that my days of hiding are almost over, but I’m not going to try and upstage the cops by revealing myself. When the law comes, I’m not going to hide from it. That’s all.” 

Elide weighed Aelin’s words, mulling over the phrasing. When the law comes. “Ae, do you…” She paused, the question hanging thick in her throat. “Do you think you know who’s going to put all the pieces together?” 

Thick, tense silence blanketed the room for a moment. Slowly, Aelin nodded, a jagged slice of grief flickering through her eyes before she shuttered it. “Yes.” The finality of the single word dropped like a stone into the air-conditioned silence of the conference room. She closed her eyes for a brief, steadying moment. “And knowing that he’s the best at his job and would always have figured it out won’t make it hurt any less.” 

Everyone in the room knew who she meant, knew why that grief had crossed her face. 

“Still feels an awful lot like doomsday,” Lys commented as she pulled the papers to her seat. She hesitated for a moment before she began reading and signing, stuffing down the bile that churned in her stomach as she signed the documents. Out of all of them, she was still the most closely linked to the Boss business, since she monitored the cameras around the Boss’s apartment and warehouses. She’d seen everything that happened when the TSF and PD went through Fenrys’s stakeout apartment. “But if you trust us, boss lady, then I trust you.” 

“Thank you,” Aelin rasped, reaching across the table to squeeze Lys’s hands. “Thank you.” 

By the end of the day, the documents were notarized and filed, ready to reshuffle the executive structure of Galathynius Inc. if anything should happen to its current CEO. 

When that something inevitably happened to its CEO.

~

“You needed me, ma’am?” Connall stepped into Maeve’s office, his eyes adjusting rapidly to the familiar darkness. He’d never understand why the hell she insisted on keeping her office so dark she could barely see five feet in front of her, but it was probably for the whole “Queen of the Night” aesthetic. 

“I did.” Maeve’s voice was as cool and controlled as ever, although as Con drew closer to her desk, he could see how her skin was paler than usual. “Connall, I suspect that I’m being poisoned.” 

He remained absolutely still, keeping his face neutral. “What do you need me to do?” 

A faint, insidious smile curled the corners of her scarlet lips. “Kill the kitchen staff and replace them. Get me the doctor for a diagnosis, and when he’s given it, kill him. Then, find the antidote.” 

Con nodded, a sharp dip of his chin. “Right away, ma’am.” 

Maeve smirked. “Good boy.” 

He was on his phone before he even left her office, calling the doctor who lived in the compound to get his ass to Maeve’s office. He let Maeve hear that brief conversation, because she needed the assurance that her closest, most loyal dog was doing her bidding. 

All of his carefully-laid plans would crumble if she turned on him. 

So Con headed down to the kitchens, patting the gun tucked into his hip holster and the assortment of tiny darts hidden in the pockets of his black jacket. He knew the handful of cooks and servers who were kept on staff to feed the Queen of the Night and her men, and he knew that the kitchen staff was aware that they could be killed at a moment’s notice. 

Not a single one of the twelve kitchen staff were surprised when Con strolled into the kitchen, locked the door, and sat down at the raised butcher-block counter, and placed a row of tiny darts in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. 

Jes, the current head chef, just removed their apron. “We all know you’re not a sadist,” they replied, calmly sitting down opposite him. 

Con’s throat tightened as he pulled a small, narrow copper tube out of his sleeve. “The least I can do is make it quick.” He’d had the darts specially designed to be surgically sharp and as small as possible, and they were one of his favorite ways to knock a target out cold. 

To knock them out, not to kill them. 

The drug contained in the darts put all twelve of the kitchen staff into a kind of comatose state that looked like death to an untrained eye, slowing their breathing and heart rate until it was just high enough to keep them alive but just low enough that a cursory inspection would assume they were dead. He hauled each one out the back door, loading their inert bodies into the back of the nondescript van that Maeve’s men used to dispose of bodies, and drove off the property. A quick glance in the mirrors showed a flicker of dark violet curtains in the upper hallway, the only sign that Maeve had been watching as he dragged the ostensibly dead kitchen staff out of the compound. 

Perfect. 

After dropping the slumbering staff off at the docks, where they were taken aboard a cargo ship that belonged to Kingsflame, Celaena Sardothien’s smuggling company, Con drove back to the compound and returned to Maeve’s office. He pushed open the door, blinked in the familiar shadowy gloom, and sighed as he nearly tripped over the corpse of the doctor. 

“Dry cleaning nearly had a fit the last time they had to wash blood out of your carpet, ma’am.” 

Maeve shrugged. “I wanted him to think he had a chance.” 

Con let out a snort. “I’m always in awe of your creativity.” He stopped in front of her desk. “What did he say?” 

“He suspects that it’s some kind of concentrated medication or steroid that’s damaging my internal organs,” Maeve said, oddly calm for someone who was being poisoned. “The suggested treatment is to consume a dose of activated charcoal, induce vomiting to see if it will purge any substance that hasn’t been absorbed, and immediately start NAC supplementation to counteract the poison.” 

Connall nodded tightly. “What do you need me to do, ma’am?” 

“Get me the things that the doctor mentioned.” Maeve’s cold, calculating expression swept over Connall. “Get the corpse off my floor, send the rug to dry cleaning, and then come find me. You know I like to reward my good boy.” Something almost like fondness passed over her face. 

“And if dry cleaning throws another fit about your rug?” The last time he’d taken Maeve’s run down to her preferred dry cleaners, they had all but thrown the damn thing at his face when he informed them that it was once again bloody and needed expedited cleaning. 

“I’m sure they can be adequately convinced,” Maeve drawled. “However, I have begun to tire of this old thing.” She scraped the toe of her crimson-bottomed stiletto heel across the rug. “I suppose it wouldn’t be too terrible to freshen up the tired old décor in here, if necessary.”

“Of course, ma’am.” With a dip of his head, Con left, dragging the doctor’s body behind him. Out in the hallway, he deposited the corpse in the large, unmarked chute that would send it down to be incinerated, frowned at the blood on his hands, and ducked into the closest bathroom to wash up before he left the compound again, heading to the nearest pharmacy. They had long since grown used to Maeve’s men barging into their storefront, and he had a hunch that she either paid off the pharmacists or planted one of her men in the place to make them more agreeable to her…needs. Or both.

He picked up the few things that Maeve needed, palming a vial of essential oil that he tucked into his sleeve as he strolled through the small pharmacy. Combined with the pennyroyal oil that he was already lacing into Maeve’s food, the rosemary oil would speed up the effects of the poisoning, making Maeve weaker by the day. 

Making it easier for when Celeana Sardothien led the Queen of the Night to her death.

~

Aelin rolled down her window as Rowan turned off the highway, letting the mid-September breeze brush through her hair as she inhaled the crisp scent of the leaves beginning to turn. She and Rowan had finally found a day where both of their calendars were clear, and he had wasted no time in planning this date. Don’t even think about accepting any calls, love, he’d teased as he picked her up from her apartment, a laugh sparkling behind his tired eyes. 

“First time you’ve seen sunshine in a while?” Rowan joked as he drove down the country road, flicking her a glance in the rearview mirror. 

Aelin poked his firm shoulder. “I have plenty of windows, love. I should ask you the same things, since apparently it’s a requirement at the police station not to have any windows, if the crime shows I watch are any indication.” 

He chuckled softly. “We have…uh, some windows.” 

“Liar.” A grin broke across her face. “We have to enjoy this last bit of good weather while we can, since I’ve heard we’re supposed to get a record cold winter this year.” 

“No,” Rowan groaned. He turned onto a secluded side road, heading east, towards the Oakwald Forest. The road was mostly gravel, so Aelin reluctantly closed her window. 

Her expression brightened as she realized where they were going. “You remembered,” she whispered, her throat unexpectedly tight. 

“Of course.” He reached over and laid his hand atop hers. A few weeks ago, Aelin had told him about the spot where her family always took picnics when she was a child. About an hour’s drive outside Orynth, the natural area that bordered the Oakwald had been one of her favorite places to explore. When she was little, she daydreamed about being a forest princess who could speak to the Little Fae Folk of the fairy tales. That daydream had faded as she grew up, but the place had remained one of her favorite spots to go when she was feeling overwhelmed. 

In fact, she’d been there just last week, right after she’d filed the contingency documents, and she’d stared out across Terrasen until the sunset faded into star-speckled darkness. 

Rowan pulled into the small parking lot, hopped out of his SUV, grabbed the picnic basket from the backseat, and hurried around to open Aelin’s door. He looped his arm around her waist as they walked down one of the trails, his warmth seeping into her skin. She stole the bag with the blankets from him and slipped her arm around his waist, flashing him a smirk. 

“I can’t let you carry everything,” she teased. 

He pretended to sigh. “It’s called being a gentleman, love.” 

“And I love you for that, but I’m an independent woman.” 

“You don’t have to be all full-on girlboss with me.” He kissed the top of her head. 

A tiny corner of her heart melted at the sincere softness of his words. “I know, but…it’s so hard to get away from that persona.” 

“I know.” His thumb rubbed against the curve of her hip. “I feel like I can’t ever turn off the investigator half of my brain. It’s always going, always trying to fit different puzzle pieces into different places, even when I’m sleeping.” 

“That sounds rather distracting,” she remarked. “For me, it’s all the contracts, all the deals, everything I’ve ever signed or shaken hands on. It’s the details and little clauses and wondering if I said the right words to the right people.” 

“Sounds noisy.” He stopped as they came to a spacious meadow at the top of a rise. “Looks like we’re here.” 

Aelin’s throat tightened again as she drank in the familiar view. “This is my favorite spot out here,” she murmured. “Thank you, my love.” 

“Anything for you, Fireheart.” Rowan tipped his head down and kissed her, slow and sweet. Then he swiped the blankets from her and shook them out before arranging them on the grass. He pulled out an impressive spread of food from the basket and set it all up nicely, turning to her with a big, dazzlingly proud grin. “Eat up.”

“What if I’m not hungry for food?” She tugged her lower lip between her teeth, tracking the slow bob of Rowan’s throat as he swallowed. 

“You need real food first,” he rasped, hooded gaze trailing lazily down her throat. 

She sighed delicately as she sat down, plucked a pair of cherries out of the bowl, and stared straight into his eyes as she sucked both cherries into her mouth and bit into the perfectly sweet-tart fruit, spitting out the pits. “I’ve had real food now.” 

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, clearly fighting his urge to lunge across the blanket and claim her. “Aelin,” he half-groaned. “You’re driving me wild, Fireheart.” 

“You know I love to do that.” She smirked. 

Very slowly, he picked up a skewer of grilled chicken and bit into the meat, holding her gaze the whole time. “Eat your lunch, love.” 

Her smirk widened. “Enjoying your meat on a stick?” 

Skewer almost to his mouth, Rowan spluttered out a string of coughs, his cheeks blazing with a bright crimson flush. “Aelin!” 

She laughed, the gleefully bright sound echoing around the valley. “I couldn’t resist.” 

He wiped off the corner of his mouth. “My gods, I’m in love with a wild woman.” He graced her with a brief, wicked grin before he took a handful of cherries and ate them, licking the juice off his fingers at a borderline explicit pace. “Two can play this game, love.” 

“Oh, I do love a game,” she purred, picking up a skewer of chicken and dipping it into a small container of sauce. She lifted it to her lips and licked the sauce off of the meat, flicking her tongue against the first piece of chicken. “Delicious,” she hummed, her voice almost a moan. 

Rowan’s knee banged into the picnic basket as he shifted in his seat, brazenly adjusting his erection in his pants. Aelin swore she heard the faint clink of metal in the basket, but dismissed it as probably some extra silverware or something her overprepared boyfriend had packed. He always brought extra stuff whenever they had a date outside the city, something for which she always teased him. 

By the time they had finished lunch, Aelin knew her panties were ruined, and she was certain that Rowan’s dick was about to rip through his jeans. Still, he clung to his impressive control, carefully packing up the picnic and putting everything back into the basket. Aelin took advantage of the moment when his back was turned to lay down on the blankets with a contented hum. He laid down beside her, effortlessly tugging her into his arms so she laid atop his chest, and idly ran his fingers through her hair. 

“I used to dream about being a princess,” she said, finding herself content to just relax in his arms, the heat in her blood dimming to pleasant warmth. 

He chuckled softly, no doubt imagining little Aelin in her pink princess dress at a family picnic. “Did you?” 

“Yeah.” She smiled, the memory old but still vivid. “Little Aelin wanted so badly to run off into the Oakwald and find the Little Fae Folk. I probably read way too many fairy tales.” 

“And then you grew up and became a practical businesswoman,” Rowan teased. 

She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “You mean business princess.” 

His laughter cascaded over her like a summer shower. “I think little Aelin did read too many fairy tales, but it made her heart that much brighter.” 

“And it made me believe I’d one day find my true love.” She rolled onto her side so she could meet his eyes. “It took a while, but I did.” 

A suspiciously glassy gleam misted his eyes. “I love you,” he whispered. 

She cupped the side of his face, running her thumb over his jaw. “I love you too.” Her lips brushed his, her kiss gentle at first but quickly growing deeper, all the love she had for him poured out into the stroke of her tongue against his. 

They laid in each other’s arms until the sky began to darken, until Aelin shivered and Rowan helped her up and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders for the walk back to his car. As he loaded the picnic basket into the backseat, she heard that metallic clink again, and once again, she dismissed it as just the sound of the containers shifting against each other. She climbed into her seat, tucked the blanket around herself after she buckled her seatbelt, and kissed Rowan’s knuckles when he reached over to help adjust the blanket. She didn’t miss the soft, tender flicker of a smile that crossed his face. 

Aelin drifted into sleep as Rowan drove back into Orynth, only waking when he pulled into the parking garage of her building, stopped the car, and kissed her awake. She let him walk her back to her apartment and kissed him goodnight at her door, giving him a sleepy wave as he headed back down the hallway, his figure illuminated in the soft yellow lighting. 

She was snug in bed by the time he finally pulled out of the garage, having sat there in his car for a good half hour, head in his hands, agonizing over whether to pull the handcuffs he’d hidden in the picnic basket out and go back up to her apartment to face the inevitable arrest, or to just go home for the night and wait another few days before he had to arrest the love of his life. 

In the end, he drove away. 

He could delay the heartbreak for another few days. 

~

“You needed to see me, ma’am?” Connall assumed his usual stance in front of Maeve’s desk. 

Maeve nodded. “I have an assignment for you.” 

“Where?”

She slid him a single sheet of paper. “Sardothien has a warehouse near the docks where she holds her shipments before distribution. I need you to find out what’s currently there and what’s coming next.” Her orders were silky-smooth and firm, despite the tremble in her hands that she couldn’t quite conceal and the sunken circles beneath her eyes, obvious signs of her body weakening. 

Con glanced over the building’s details. “Looks like it’s got a few layers of security,” he observed in a neutral tone of voice. “How often does she visit it?” 

“Practically never.” Maeve scoffed. “Unlike a proper leader, she lets some underling run it.” 

“So it’ll be easy as fuck to break in,” Con remarked. He allowed a sharp-edged smirk to curl across his lips. “Damn, I was hoping for a challenge.” 

The Queen of the Night chuckled softly, a sinister rasp that would have been far more villainous if it hadn’t broken into a hoarse cough after two seconds. “I believe the interior will be the challenge you want, Connall. Sardothien allegedly posts a rotating guard at the place, and I haven’t yet determined how much of the building is patrolled or how extensively.” 

He grinned, his teeth a stark flash in the gloom of her office. “What should I do if I happen to run into the guard, ma’am?” 

“I suppose you’ll be forced to subdue him,” Maeve said calmly. She gave Con a small, chillingly ruthless smile. “I don’t foresee you having any difficulties with that.” 

“None at all, ma’am.” Con tucked the folded paper into the hidden pocket in his shirt, the same place where he kept the vials of Maeve’s poison. 

“I look forward to your discoveries, Connall. Dismissed.” 

Con bowed, turned sharply on his heel, and strode out of Maeve’s office. He returned to his room, where he laid out a small array of easily concealed weapons on his bed, took his Navy SEAL vest out of the closet, and began methodically loading each blade and dart into the multitude of slim pockets in the high-tech mesh material. He tucked a set of lockpicks into a front pocket, along with a generic employee ID card that Celaena’s tech guy—Nyx or Nox or something like that—had given him. The card would, in theory, work at the Boss’s properties. 

With his weapons and devices ready, Con pulled off his plain gray long-sleeve shirt, threw it into the laundry basket, and changed from his jeans into black tactical pants, which were reinforced with a layer of the same material that made up his vest. He pulled on his boots, laced them up, and then he reached into the back of the drawer where he kept his socks and retrieved a small, slender chrome tube. He uncapped it and removed a roll of sterile blue paper, which he carefully unrolled and laid flat on the bare top of his dresser. Also in the tube was a pair of long, narrow tweezers and a small silicone spatula that looked like a bakery dough scraper. He went and washed his hands in his sink, patted them dry, and then removed the tweezers from their plastic packaging and, slowly and carefully, peeled back the top layer of blue paper. 

Near-invisible atop the sterile paper laid a pristine pair of what looked like very, very, very thin, delicate latex gloves molded to the precise measurements of his hands. 

Put this onto your hands if you’re ever going into my property, Celaena had said. I can’t tell you much, but it will ensure that you leave no fingerprints. 

She’d called it “SecondSkin.”

Carefully, Con lifted the first glove, sliding the flat prongs of the tweezers between the layers that were almost too fine for him to see. He slipped his left hand into the glove, surprised at how the synthetic material didn’t cling to his skin like ordinary latex would. Once the glove was on all the way to his fingertips, he exchanged the tweezers for the scraper tool and pressed the synthetic against his skin in order to get every tiny centimeter flush against his skin. 

By the time he was finished, he couldn’t even tell there was something over his skin. 

He repeated the process with his right hand, carefully scraping every little bit of the synthetic material until it was molded seamlessly to his hands and wrists. Finished, he rolled the paper back up and tucked it and the tools back into the slender chrome tube, which he stashed back in his drawer. For good measure, he also put on a pair of flexible faux leather gloves, the same ones he wore whenever Maeve sent him out. He pulled on a close-fitting black thermal shirt, strapped on his vest, and tucked a black balaclava into his pocket. 

If he did run into anyone at the warehouse, it would be best if nobody saw his face. He wasn’t yet ready for the entire military of Terrasen to know that he wasn’t actually missing or dead in action, as they all believed him to be. 

It took roughly twenty minutes for Con to drive down to the edge of the industrial district, park his nondescript car innocently in a 24-hour grocery store parking lot, and weave through the dark, twisting tangle of alleys and unpaved roads that meandered through the district until he reached the Sardothien warehouse. He took a careful lap around the property, noting that the one guard posted by the west loading dock was apparently asleep on the job, and slipped around to the southeast doors. 

The employee ID card worked, and the little sensor by the door flashed green as the steel door unlocked with a clank. Con winced at the sound but darted inside and slowly eased the door shut behind himself. He waited a full two minutes before he moved, both to let his vision adjust to the shadowed gloom of the warehouse interior and to listen for sounds of any other presence. Finding the place mostly silent except for the gentle mechanical hum of the overhead fan system, he slunk around the perimeter of the space, heading for a set of steel stairs that went up to a mezzanine level positioned about halfway up the wall. 

A perfect height to observe the entire warehouse. 

The steel walkway spanned the whole south wall and curved around the east wall as well, but Con had his sights set on the single office built into the mezzanine. He was surprised to find the door unlocked, but as he entered, the apparent lack of security made perfect sense. Because there was a rather sophisticated security camera system arranged on one wall of the office, allowing him to look around the floor without having to walk all over the place and potentially disrupt the tidy stacks of crates and pallets that stood in orderly, numbered rows. 

It also required him to spend ten minutes editing the camera footage to wipe away his presence from four of the camera angles, but that was just the job. 

Having learned from the camera feed and the printout taped to another wall that the warehouse was currently mostly full of ammunition, Con left the office and stealthily paced the length of the mezzanine floor before he crept down the other set of stairs. He’d set the cameras up to run on a loop for the next hour, giving himself that time to have a good look around the place and get himself out. The stacks of pallets and crates cast overlapping shadows on the concrete floor, hiding Con from the handful of dimmed lights that gave some illumination to the empty space. He hadn’t yet seen or heard anyone else inside the building, so he assumed that the outside guard probably had a view of the security cameras. 

Not that it mattered, since the man was still sleeping soundly. 

Con wove through the neatly organized stacks, mentally noting how each was marked with a date of arrival and a date of distribution and the distribution dates were spaced out across the span of a week. It would apparently be a few days before they were sent out, since the first date was the 27th and it was currently only the 23rd. Aside from the efficient cataloging system, he didn’t really notice anything unusual or worth reporting, so he headed for the south door and let himself out. 

He was almost back in the safe cover of the warehouse’s shadows when he heard the faint but bone-chillingly recognizable scrape of footsteps. 

Shit. 

Con’s Navy SEAL instincts kicked in within split seconds, and he ducked around the closest corner of the warehouse, where a set of steel rungs bolted into the exterior wall led him up to the roof. He scaled the ladder in seconds and was crouched on the rooftop, mostly hidden in the deep shadows of the venting pipes, before he dared to look down at the ground. He tugged the balaclava over his head and tapped the special lenses that laid over his eyes, activating a highly secret and definitely experimental bit of vision-enhancing tech that allowed him to zoom in on the muscular male figure that was messing with the keypad of the south door. 

The man was slightly taller than Con and was also dressed in tactical black, but the Kevlar vest and flexible-soled boots he wore, paired with the obvious expertise of the way he disarmed the door’s safety features, identified him as TSF. 

Double shit. Just what Con needed—the goddamn Terrasen Special Forces on his ass. 

They aren’t on your ass yet, idiot, he snapped at himself. He kept his vision trained on the TSF man, watching as he opened the door, stepped back, and ran a slow, analytical, sweeping gaze over the loading docks and the property. Con instinctively sank deeper into the shadows, holding his breath as the man’s dark green gaze flicked briefly over the warehouse itself. But the man was apparently satisfied that he was alone, because he ducked into the warehouse and closed the door. 

Con tapped his lenses again, returning his vision to normal, and uncurled himself from his crouch. Slowly, keeping his boots silent against the roof, he swung himself around the pipes and slipped back down the ladder, barely breathing until he was back on the ground. He swept a look over the area, found it clear, and kept his tread as light as possible as he dashed towards the neighboring warehouse, which backed up into the headache-inducing tangle of the industrial district. 

He was four feet from safe cover when the Boss’s warehouse door banged open and the TSF man sent a knife whizzing past Con’s head. 

“STOP!” The barked command almost made Con’s own military training jerk him to an abrupt halt, but he ignored those instincts and instead took the last stride and a half into the shadows surrounding the closest warehouse building. The TSF soldier gave chase, and Con stifled a rather creative curse as he ducked around the corner of the building, found a ladder, and got himself onto the roof in under twenty seconds. Just in time for TSF Jackass to come into view and ah fuck. 

That was Lieutenant Rowan Whitethorn, who was currently part of a joint TSF and Orynth Police investigation into Celaena Sardothien. 

And also one of Fenrys's closest friends.

Don’t think, just move, idiot! Beyond thankful for the film of smoky fog that smeared the midnight sky over the industrial district, Con ran along the rooftop, his boots light as feathers atop the ridged metal plates, and launched himself across to the roof of a mossy brick building. He tucked and rolled, absorbing the impact of the landing, and kept going, darting from that rooftop across a series of other connected roofs. When he reached a brownstone building with a weathered tile roof, he crossed to the corner and swung himself down via the drainpipes. 

Tucked into a dark, cramped alley that reeked of soot and garbage, Con waited with held breath for the sound of pursuit. After three minutes, he deemed it safe enough and ducked out of the alley, hiding himself in the shadows of the industrial district’s disorganized sprawl as he wove the most confusing path possible back towards where he’d left his car. He paused every few blocks to make sure there was nobody behind him, unaware that he’d left his would-be pursuer in the dust back at the warehouse. 

And Rowan Whitethorn, who’d only just managed to pry his knife free from the steel wall that it had embedded into when it missed Con by an inch, grumbled under his breath about damned fucking criminals and returned to Sardothien’s warehouse to discover that it was full of neatly stacked crates of military-grade ammunition, all of them marked for distribution to decidedly non-military personnel. 

~

Rowan’s house was quiet, peacefully removed from the noise and lights and general clamor that made up downtown Orynth. As much as Aelin loved her downtown apartment, she was drawn to the illusion of isolation that her love’s house offered, an oasis of calm amid the noisy sea of city life. She’d only been there a few other times, scattered throughout the whirlwind blur of their months together, and most of those visits had been spent either in his bedroom or on the spacious covered patio, lost in a haze of love and desire and him. His home was large but cozy, its dark wood paneling, plaster walls, and mismatched furniture giving it a comfortable, lived-in ambience. The fireplace in the living room burned brightly, recently re-ignited as the cool nip of early fall began to descend over Orynth. 

Bourbon in hand, Rowan dropped into his comfortable armchair, legs automatically spreading into what she teased him was a typical man-pose. Aelin curled lazily on the couch opposite his armchair, tugging her sweater down so it artfully draped over her lean, muscled legs, hiding another lingerie set that would no doubt bring him to his knees, and set her mostly-full glass of wine down on the side table. 

“I’ve missed this.” Her soft, open look radiated with warmth and trust, and he was torn between the desire to bottle up that look and keep it forever and the fear that it was all a façade. “Just us, some drinks, and a snatch of time to breathe.” 

Despite the iron weighing down his blood, he smiled. “I’ve missed this too.” 

“When was the last time we got a whole night to ourselves, maybe May?” Her soft laughter warmed his numbing heart. “I’m a little surprised you haven’t backed me into the wall yet, Ro.” 

Fire sizzled down his spine, but Rowan calmly lifted his drink to his lips. “And what if I want you to be patient for me?” 

Aelin tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, hooded gaze tracking the thick bob of his throat as he swallowed another mouthful of bourbon. “Seems an awful lot like you’re sitting there and doing nothing, buzzard.” 

“Is that so?” With deliberate slowness, he set his drink down and uncrossed his legs. “Don’t give me ideas you don’t want me to have, darling.” How can I not want you? His internal echo was desperate, aching, filled with the emotion he stifled. One last time.

“Who said anything about not wanting you?” 

“Not me.” The humidity of the room seemed to be increasing with every whispered word and hitch of breath. 

“Good.” Languidly, she stood and stretched her arms over her head, sliding off her oversized sweater in the process. “Because I don’t wear gold for just anybody, Lieutenant Whitethorn.” 

“What did I say about using my name, Aelin?” Warning crept into his words. 

“I might need a reminder…Rowan.” She strolled across the plush carpet of his living room until she was inches away from where he sat. “And you need to stop brooding about your work.” 

He sighed. “I’m not brooding.” He knew full well that he was—he couldn’t help it. Work currently meant the sudden, jarring end of their relationship, and he still questioned if he had the strength to do that. To either of them. 

She snorted. “Look in a mirror and tell yourself that, if you can.” 

“What have we discussed about the sass, love?” Abruptly, he rose to his feet and wrapped one strong arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. 

Her lips dropped into a soft O of surprise. “That it’s–hmmm.” Before she could properly answer, he kissed her, slowly at first and then deeper, more urging. 

“Fine,” he murmured, pulling just an inch away. “Maybe I’m brooding. I’m sure you can help me forget why, though.” I wish I could forget why, he added, silently. Deep down, he wished she could erase that part of his mind—the part that knew this was the last time. 

“I’m sure I can.” She looped her arms around his neck, the lace of her delicate lingerie brushing his bare chest, and pressed her lips to his, her kiss soft, sensual, tender. “I love you, Ro,” she breathed against his lips. 

If only you did, his heart screamed. But he threaded his fingers into her hair and slid his tongue between her lips, losing himself in her kiss. “I love you too, Fireheart,” he whispered, his words thick. He slid his free hand down and lifted her into his arms, and her legs wrapped easily, fluidly, naturally around his waist, her panties notched against the fabric of his trousers. In a rushed, heated blur, they were in his bedroom, Aelin’s back flush against his sheets as he kissed her harder, toying with the string of her panties. Lingerie that was his favorite shade of gold. 

She gasped, a soft whine breaking from her lips as he brushed his thumb a fraction away from her clit. “Rowan, please.” 

“So good for me,” he smirked, though the words nearly killed him to utter. So good. Ironic, when the woman sprawled beneath his touch was anything but good. He shook his head, shoving those thoughts aside for the moment. 

One more night. They could have one more night. 

Always so clever, Aelin’s fingers flicked open the clasp of his trousers, and the tailored material pooled around his ankles. “Good girl,” he purred into her ear as he kicked off his pants, relishing the quiet moan his Fireheart let out at the praise. 

“My gods,” Aelin rasped as Rowan stripped off his boxers. “I could never get used to the sight of you, love.” Her eyes were bright as she watched him, her figure a vision in scraps of gold sprawled upon his bed. 

“Likewise.” He pounced, ripping those tiny golden panties right down the seam, and she’d barely gasped in shock before his tongue was on her cunt. “Fuuuuck,” he groaned, swiping his tongue in a long, lazy stroke, “so ready for me.” Her fingers knotted into his hair as he licked her, swirling his tongue indolently around her clit, and she released a garbled string of moans that could have been his name. He just smirked, his gaze lifting to sear into hers, as he devoured her, loving how quickly his love turned wordless and needy for him. Only for him. 

“Rowan!” Aelin screamed as she came, her hips thrashing against his face, and she rode out the waves of her orgasm along his tongue and fingers, calming just in time for him to lift his glistening jaw, swipe a long, slow touch through her pussy, and kiss a deliciously indecent path from her cunt up to her throat, removing the lacy bra as he went. 

When his lips claimed hers again, the taste of her thick and heady on his lips, she locked her leg around his and smoothly flipped them, landing him on his back with her astride him. One-armed, he pushed himself into a seated position, wrapped her hair around his fist, and tipped her head backwards, kissing her hard and sinful, a promise wrapped into the curling strokes of his tongue. 

“Yes,” she breathed against his lips, her hand sliding down to wrap around his cock. Her grip was dangerously close to perfection, and she stroked the length of his dick with just enough pressure to ignite his blood. Her nails scraped lightly along the underside of his cock, and he groaned, pinching her tight little nipples in return. She smirked and tightened her grip, squeezing and twisting her wrist. 

“Fireheart,” he growled, far too close to begging as she shot him a devious, cunning smirk and shifted just far back enough to lower her head, pressing kisses down his throat, his chest, his tattoo before he lifted her head back up. “N-not this time.” His words were shaky, uneven, laden with the urgency of his need to be fully inside of her and the weight of his knowledge that this was the last time. “I need you.”

She pushed herself back up, tracing the script of his tattoo. “I need you too,” she admitted, a gleam of vulnerability flickering briefly through her heated gaze. 

Not trusting himself to reply, Rowan just kissed her neck, flicking his tongue along the tender spot he knew could make her tremble. “Ready, love?” 

“Always.” Fuck, the word drove a knife straight through his fragile heart. 

He lifted her hips up, and she positioned herself just right before she sat down, sliding onto his steel-hard dick, and both groaned at the utterly perfect sensation. Aelin’s head arched back with pleasure, but Rowan tipped her chin forwards, kissing her deep and slow as he rocked against her. She broke the kiss to drop her head to his shoulder, laying kisses and tiny bites on his tattoos, and he brushed her hair over her shoulder so he could drag his hands down her dragon tattoo, feeling the seemingly delicate ridges of her spine and the solid firmness of the muscle lining her back. The dragon on her spine coiled and shifted with the pattern of his thrusts, its flames almost alive, if only for an illusory moment. 

The kiss he laid atop those flames was both a claiming of her whole self as his and a final confirmation that the flames licking out of the dragon’s screaming maw matched the one image he’d caught of Celaena Sardothien. Gently, in stark contrast to the roughness of his thrusts, he kissed those inked flames. 

A gesture of farewell. 

Aelin choked out his name as she flew closer and closer to orgasm, and Rowan breathed hers as he drove his pace faster, pushing them both into silent, unending bliss. He held her close as she came down, as the shaking of her body calmed, as his movements beside hers slowed. Carefully, he lifted them off the bed, not pulling out until they were in the shower, Aelin languid and relaxed as he lathered her lavender body wash over her skin. 

He carried her sleepy form back to bed and tucked her between the sheets, then slipped into bed behind her, curling into her warmth as he’d grown so used to doing. His breathing deepened with hers as she fell into dreams, and he kissed her forehead, tucking her soft hair away from her face. 

Aelin slumbered peacefully beside Rowan, her golden hair strewn messily over his pillows. Her face tucked downwards, the hint of tension that always lined it softened with sleep, and the moonlight that slanted through his bedroom window cast the splattering of freckles on her cheeks in pale silver. She looked so vulnerable there, asleep in his bed, so soft and sweet. But he knew full well what lurked under that innocent face—a ruthless, cold-blooded killer. 

The jarring juxtaposition of images haunted his restless sleep. 

~

Aelin blinked awake to moody gray light filtering in through Rowan’s curtains, the sky dimmed by a thick blanket of clouds that promised rain. She stretched, feeling the delicious ache in her body, and rolled out of bed, throwing on one of Rowan’s worn old t-shirts before she went into the master bathroom to brush her teeth and do her morning skincare. She came back out to get dressed, changing into the clean trousers and silk blouse that she’d brought, and went back to put on makeup and brush out her hair. She tied the golden waves into a thick braid, put in a pair of pearl drop earrings, and paused to check for stray hairs or mascara smudges before she left the bathroom. 

The scent of fresh coffee floated down the hallway, and she smiled. Rowan had probably been up for at least a couple of hours, enough time to get in his morning run and brew fresh coffee before she even dragged herself out of bed. She followed that enticing scent out into the kitchen, rose onto her tiptoes to get a mug from the cabinet, and turned around with a smile that instantly froze. 

Because Rowan’s gun was trained on her. 

Handcuffs dangled from his tattooed hand, glinting in the kitchen lighting. His voice shook and his eyes were shattered pools of tormented grief, but his aim was rock-solid and locked between her eyes as he said, “Celaena Sardothien, you are under arrest for more crimes than I can possibly enumerate.”

She simply, slowly, raised her arms and placed her hands in the air in front of her. “There’s no need for the gun, Lieutenant Whitethorn. I am not going to resist.” 

“Put down the mug and bring your hands back up,” Rowan commanded. The coldness in his voice was one hundred percent TSF. 

Aelin obeyed. 

Rowan holstered his gun—the safety had been on the whole time—stepped forwards, and locked the cuffs around Aelin’s wrists. He didn’t speak, but the pain carved into his features spoke louder, screamed louder, than any words ever could. Betrayal, regret, and a thousand other emotions flickered across his face, but he locked his jaw, guided her hands down, and turned her so her back was against the kitchen counter. 

“I loved you,” he breathed, hoarsely. “I loved you so goddamn much, Aelin Galathynius.” He refused to let the tears glossing his eyes fall. “Why?” 

The past tense—loved—drove an iron spike through her heart. Tears of her own sprang to her eyes, and she didn’t have the strength to keep them from falling. She looked into Rowan’s gaze, meeting the eyes that seared her soul, and stayed silent. 

No words could ever describe what she felt for him. 

He breathed deeply, steeling himself, and she watched as the investigator’s mask descended back upon his face. “I’m going to go collect your things. Don’t move.” Abruptly, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the kitchen, his boots thudding hollowly on the hardwood floors. He returned a few moments later with her purse and work tote slung over his arm. “Everything’s here. Let’s go.” 

She followed him out to his TSF-logoed vehicle, grateful that his home was secluded enough from the city that there weren’t any neighbors around to snatch photos of the CEO of Galathynius, Inc. being escorted to a TSF car in handcuffs at seven in the morning. She could deal with her arrest—hell, she’d been planning to be arrested for months. She couldn’t deal with the media storm until it became unavoidable. 

Ever a gentleman, Rowan opened the passenger door, helped her up into the seat, got her buckled, and set her bags at her feet. He closed her door and walked around to the driver’s side, and he only spared her a glance after he was on the road, driving towards the city. “I’m not going to hold any of your things for inspection.” 

Aelin nodded. “Thank you.” The first words she’d spoken since acquiescing to her arrest. 

His jaw ticked, a clear sign that he had questions begging to be released. “Why…” He took a sharp breath. “How are you so calm right now?” 

“This was inevitable,” she replied, masking the quiver of her shattering heart with her cool, professional, CEO voice. “Lieutenant, you’re the best in the TSF for a reason. I knew as soon as you were assigned to the investigation that you would discover me. I suppose I’m both surprised and grateful that it took you this long.” 

“Grateful?” 

She turned her head, staring out the window to avoid his penetrating gaze. “For…for you.” 

They were silent for the rest of the drive. 

When they arrived at Orynth PD, Rowan pulled around to the private parking lot, parked, and helped Aelin out of the car. To her surprise, he unlocked the handcuffs and removed them from her wrists, but he replaced them with a single black cuff around her left wrist. She glanced at the smooth silicone and instantly recognized it as an alternative, more technologically advanced, version of an ankle monitor. Her team had spent over a year developing it before they sold it to Orynth PD, and the irony of her own damn tech being used on her was almost enough to make her laugh. 

It was called a Wyrd cuff.

“Come with me.” Rowan led Aelin into the building through a side door, escorting her past a row of offices and down some hallways until they reached his office. He opened the door for her, drew the blinds over the window, and stepped back out of the office. He locked the door from the outside. 

“Fucking hell,” she heard him whisper, a faint, broken rasp, before he collected himself and strode off down the hall. He was back in a couple of minutes with at least three others, judging from their silhouettes in the hallway, and she listened as best as she could to the rumble of their conversation. 

“B-but we can’t just toss her in jail!” That sounded like a younger voice, probably a junior cop. 

“What choice do we have?” Rowan. “She’s been arrested.” 

“She’s probably able to post bail and just leave,” the younger man argued. “I bet she’s filthy rich from all the exports she does.” So Rowan hadn’t revealed who Celaena Sardothien really was. Interesting. 

The voices continued in a hushed flurry, and Aelin was only able to pick up scraps from their conversation. There were four of them—Rowan, the younger one, a middle-aged one, and one about Rowan’s age, and each of them seemed to have a different opinion on what to do with the highly dangerous criminal currently locked in Lieutenant Whitethorn’s office. 

Rowan grunted with frustration, and Aelin’s ears honed in on his voice. “There’s also the fact that the goddamn media will be up our ass as soon as they find out who she is.” 

“A murderer?” That was the older one. 

“Not just a murderer,” the younger one piped up. “A crime boss.” 

“A criminal.” 

“A killer.”

“Someone who knew exactly what she was doing.”

“A mastermind.” That one made her smile. 

“And one of the most famous women in Orynth.” That was Rowan, and her blood chilled at the resignation in his words. He raised his voice. “Sardothien, open the blinds.” 

With a deep, steadying exhale, Aelin pulled up the blinds on the office door. 

Three absolutely stunned faces stared back at her. 

The younger cop pointed a shaky finger at her through the glass. “Th-th-that…that’s Aelin Galathynius, sir.” 

“Alias Celaena Sardothien,” Rowan said. 

Unable to resist the opportunity, Aelin gave the cops a little finger wave and a wicked little grin.

The young one, whose wild, curly hair matched his goggle-eyed shock, gaped openly at her with wide, deep brown eyes. “I…we thought they were two people.” He ran his fingers through his frizzy curls, astonished. “Holy shit, sir! She’s had us fooled for gods know how long.” 

Rowan’s jaw was set in a tense line. “Thank you for your astute observation, Luca,” he ground out, flicking Aelin a bare hint of a glance before he turned his irritation onto the young cop. 

Luca shrugged, totally unfazed by Rowan’s famously icy attitude. “Is it too much to ask for an autograph?” he quipped, muffling what was probably a shit-eating grin. 

The older cop pressed his hands to his eyes in fatherly exasperation. “What have we discussed about not pushing Lieutenant Whitethorn’s buttons, Luca?” 

“Sorry, Brullo.” Luca didn’t appear particularly sorry—he looked like he had both the means and the camaraderie to needle Rowan incessantly. A small part of Aelin’s heart was deeply glad that Rowan had found that kind of friendship with a few of the cops. 

“Everyone out.” Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t know why I even bothered to ask for anyone’s opinion if the only thing you were going to do was stare googly-eyed at the most infamous crime boss in Orynth.” His tone was authoritative, but edged with a faint undertone of humor. 

“I wouldn’t call her the most infamous,” Brullo commented. “What about the Queen of the Night?” Luca snickered. 

“That bitch,” Aelin muttered, turning away from the cops, wrath flickering briefly across her face before she smoothed her expression back into careful neutrality. It wasn’t the right time for the police to find out that she knew something about Maeve the Fucking Bitch Queen. 

“Good god,” Rowan mumbled. “Alright, here’s what’s happening, since apparently I have to do everything around here.” He waited for the others to quiet down before he continued. “I’m calling the TSF. Yes, I know this is a joint case, and it was me who brought Sardothien in, so I get to decide who’s gonna keep an eye on her while she awaits trial.” 

“Actually, I was just about to ask if TSF was going to get involved again,” Luca said. 

“Good.” Rowan tipped his chin at the other cops. “You can go, then. I’ll make the call.” As the other cops headed away, he pivoted slowly towards his office, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders before he unlocked the door and came in. 

“Luca seems like a bright kid,” Aelin remarked, casually. 

Rowan paused next to his desk, posture stiff. “If that’s a threat…” The coldness of his voice cut Aelin through to the bone, but she heard the protectiveness hidden beneath the ice. 

“It’s completely genuine,” she said softly. “I only threaten the kind of scum that deserves it,” she added, letting some of the Boss’s notorious darkness edge her words. 

“And the list of your kills will prove it.” He picked up his phone, clearly unwilling to speak with her any longer before he contacted the TSF. Aelin relaxed herself in her chair as he spoke on the phone, his words terse and clipped. 

“Whitethorn.” A short pause. “Yes, I have her in custody. She’s fitted with a Wyrd cuff.” Another brief silence. “I understand that, sir, but with all due respect, I don’t really think prison is the right move. We’ve seen how effortlessly she was able to pull Allsbrook, and my instincts tell me that it’d be better to have her in TSF custody.” A longer pause, during which he pinched the bridge of his nose, indicating his muffled frustration. “Yes, but still. We can’t take that risk now that we finally—fine. Yes, sir.” He hung up with a click and braced his hands on his desk.

“Allow me to reiterate that I am not going to resist, Lieutenant.” Aelin broke the thick silence. “I gave you my word.”

Rowan was quiet for a handful of seconds before he turned to face her. “I believe you. Gods only know why, but I’ll take your word. So. TSF is sending a squad to escort you to your home, where you will be placed on house arrest. There will be a special forces guard assigned to your door as well as a pair of soldiers stationed in the lobby of your building lest you try to stage an escape.” 

“Should I expect a guard in my home?” 

He shook his head. “No. At this time, we don’t believe that an in-home monitor is necessary, particularly because you’re wearing a Wyrd cuff. The device is similar to an ankle monitor, but—” 

“But lighter-weight, much better protected against involuntary removal, and specially outfitted with tracking and monitoring technology that connects via satellite receiver to the person or people who placed and activated the device. Additionally, once placed, the Wyrd cuff can only be removed by the person who closed and locked it, as it has both fingerprint and DNA sensor locks to ensure that the criminal is unable to remove it. Despite these features, the Wyrd cuff is currently the most humane piece of monitoring technology.” Aelin lifted her chin, professional smile tugging at her lips. “The Wyrd cuff was developed and sold exclusively to Orynth PD by Galathynius, Inc.” 

“I…ah, I was unaware.” An uncharacteristic flush dusted Rowan’s cheeks. “It’s an impressive piece of engineering.” 

“And I’m glad to see that it’s being used precisely as we hoped it would be.” 

Rowan looked like he was on the verge of saying something else, but he was interrupted by a rapid knock on his door. Luca stuck his head into the office. “TSF is here, sir.” 

“Thanks, Luca.” Rowan stood up. “Ae—Sardothien, you ready?” 

Aelin swallowed the tears that sprang up at Rowan’s use of her alias. “I am.” She allowed him to lead her out of his office and down the rows of hallways into the bullpen, his hand just barely touching her back as if he was hiding his lingering desire to touch her one last time behind the pretense of keeping a safeguard on the dangerous criminal. 

“Luca, where the hell are the TSF?” 

“Right—” 

Commander Gavriel Ashryver strode into the room…and jerked to an abrupt halt as he took in the sight of his niece in a Wyrd cuff. 

“Um, here, sir,” Luca finished, sheepish. “I tried to time their arrival into the bullpen with yours.” 

Gav hadn’t moved a muscle. His keen, assessing gaze swept over Aelin, who was the portrait of neutral professionalism with her tote slung over her shoulder, and Rowan, who stood stiff-backed and tense at her side with a stony mask over his features. Six TSF soldiers were arranged in neat pairs behind Gav, having stumbled but rearranged to a military stop when their commander unexpectedly halted. 

“Aelin?” Gav whispered, half incredulous. The shock in his voice stabbed Aelin right in the heart. 

She nodded. “As well as Celaena Sardothien.” She felt more than saw the collective gasp of astonishment that rippled through the bullpen as she confirmed her double identity. 

Ever the master of soldierly stoicism, Gav came forwards and settled one protective hand around her elbow. “I’ll take it from here, Whitethorn. Good work.” He escorted Aelin forwards, and the other soldiers promptly stepped out of the way and re-formed themselves into a short column behind Gav and Aelin as they went out to the waiting TSF vehicles. “She’s with me,” was all that Gav said as he helped her into his black SUV, its tinted windows able to obscure her from sight. The other soldiers climbed into the TSF-logoed van beside Gav’s car, and they drove away together. 

As they navigated the crush of downtown Orynth during the morning commuter hours, Gav flicked Aelin a look in the rearview mirror, his glance laden with heavy sorrow. “I didn’t want to believe it was you, Aelin.” 

She met his sorrow with resignation. “We both knew my crimes would catch up with me someday, Gav. Thank you for protecting me while you could.” 

He nodded, a tight dip of his head. “How bad is the media going to get?” 

“Awful, once the news drops. I’m hoping it won’t break until I go to court, but I’m afraid PD will want to inform the whole world that they caught the Shadow Assassin.” 

“Leave that to me.” 

Aelin’s throat tightened for the thousandth time that morning. “I can’t ask you to keep shielding me, Gav.” 

Her uncle reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’m not keeping you unknown, Aelin. I’m simply making sure that my men aren’t stormed by rabid paparazzi.” 

She huffed a soft wisp of a laugh. “Thank you.” 

The rest of the drive passed in silence, and Gav was able to get Aelin as well as the three TSF men assigned to guard her into the building and up to her apartment without attracting much notice. Her apartment building catered primarily to wealthy executives, so private security guards were a common sight, and nobody paid much attention to her new patrol. 

Alone in her apartment, Aelin set down her tote, stepped out of her heels, and walked quietly to her bedroom, heading through the cozy space into the master bathroom. She closed and locked the door behind herself and, suddenly, she slumped to the floor, her body curling into a protective ball. Head in her hands, Aelin Galathynius loosed the tears that she’d been holding at bay all morning, wracked with grief not at her arrest, but at the heartbreak that accompanied it. She cried for herself, for the woman that Rowan’s love had allowed her to become.

And she cried for the lost dream of the future she would never have with him.

~~~

TAGS:

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@sunshinebingo

@hiimheresworld

@athena127

[aebeism]

02. flowers and rings — bada lee

see more about the series.

previous | next

synopsis : bada and haneul’s relationship seems to have a big gap due to the absence of the taller girl. meanwhile, bada and her team is in trouble as they try to find a solution to their new found obstacle.

warning : mental breakdown, lowercase intended

the hydrangea bouquet lay coldly on the countertop, the petals still fresh, the deep blue color still catch anyone’s eyes as they look in. too bad that no one really paid their minds to it, not right now when the quiet sobs could be heard throughout the hallway of haneul's apartment.

"wait until when? bada i have rotted here, waiting for you for months? years?", the shivering voice came out of haneul's mouth as she spoke to bada on the other end of her phone "never once would you be here on our anniversary, not a single time through this entire two year relationship."

the soft hiccups start coming up to her throat as haneul ended the phone call. her hands moving up to hide her face, the tears staining both her cheeks and hands as she tries to wipe them away sloppily.

"why am i always the second choice? why am i always being put after her work? am i not enough?", the soft mumbles leave her mouth, the defenseless hand dropped down onto her bed as haneul started to calm for a while. her eyes moving their target to the now seemingly "lifeless" bouquet on the table.

the cold sensation hit her as she drags her body towards the flowers, the bright blue color seems so dull in her eyes, so pathetic. haneul knows fully well the meaning of hydrangea, in fact, she's the one who told bada about it.

"an apology for the person she loves, for being so busy she can't even bat an eye to me", haneul smile, not the bright one that she usually gives like when she's with bada. this smile, tastes so bitter in her mouth, so so bitter that she didn't even realize when a tear sneakily ran down her cheek. not until she fully breaks as she let her body drop down to the ground.

ಇ.

"did something happen?", lusher asked, noticing the redness in the corner of bada's eyes.

the tall girl closes the meeting room's door behind her, a soft smile showing up on her face as she shakes her head, assuring her team that she's alright.

all eyes are on bada, everyone knows that bada is anything but "fine" right now, not after their team leader went out to take a phone call from her girlfriend with a bright smile on her face, and came back with tears stained cheeks and a seemingly bitter smile that bada tried to mask as a "reassurance" for her team.

"alright, i'll need you guys to finish the design, all the drafts, all the planning. find the fitting venues, restaurants, everything, the list should be done by tonight", bada speak up, her voice cracked a little in the beginning but was soon fixed to her normal tone, her eyes scanning across the room to make eye contact with everyone, making sure that her team all understand the deadline.

"bada, there's a change from the usual flower shop we work with", lusher said, her eyes meeting bada's from across the big table as she speaks, "they seem to be working with another wedding planning team right now, i tried calling them but they turned down our offer this time. i also told sowoen to check back on them a few days later but they made an excuse about having a shortage of flowers for their other business partners."

the taller girl noticeably furrows her brows, a sharp pain hit her head again, causing her to close her eyes as she massages the side of her head to soothe it down.

"what shall we do, leader?", sowoen asked, her eyes focusing on bada's form as she grows concerned over the situation, the orange haired girl biting her lower lip as she waits for the older girl to answer.

"does anybody know of a flower shop where they could do wedding's decoration?", bada's soft voice soon speaks, her eyes still closed and her brows still furrow from the pain. a million thoughts running through her mind as she tried to figure out a solution to this newfound obstacle "lusher, sowoen, you two should have told me this sooner. i have to talk to our client tomorrow, and we don't have a place to entrust their wedding flowers with. what do you think our client will say? how unprofessional is that?"

a sudden silence filled the room as bada’s words echoed throughout it, causing an intensely uncomfortable atmosphere to engulf the place as everyone turns their eyes away from their leader. lusher sneaks a few peaks at bada as she fidgets her fingers under the table, the guilt filling up her heart when she sees how bada close her eyes tighter due to the sharp pain going through her leader's head.

lusher knows about bada's health, she knows how bad it is after the countless nights that bada stayed up to finish up all the planning from the team to present a final draft, or when bada would run around from place to place just to get things done the way the bride wants. lusher knows bada is a workaholic, she also knows bada has high standards for everything she does, and that sometimes equivalates to bada overworking herself to the point where she would have to be forced to stop. the person to stop her, many times, would be lusher. even to this day, the occassional pain from bada's head is a constant warning for her to stop being so harsh on herself. but lusher knows her leader, she knows that bada wouldn't stop.

the reason why lusher didn't tell bada is because she doesn't want bada to worry. she doesn't want bada to stress out over finding a new flower shop when she already has so much on her plate. so lusher hid it away from bada, lusher tried to resolve it on her own, calling places, tried to call the old flower shops that they worked with, but to no avail. and this time, she once again couldn't help her leader, she once again failed as a sub-leader who could take up responsibilities to guide the team. that fact makes the guilt in her heart eat her up alive.

lusher was pulled back into the meeting as soon as she heard her leader's voice, a slight startle as she was so deep in thought.

"no one?", bada opens her eyes, her pain seems to subsided for as she positions herself to sit straight again, looking at her team. her brows still furrow, and her voice seems to be much more serious than before.

"you usually buy flowers for your girlfriend right? why don't you ask that shop about it?", minah speak up, her voice high as she enthusiastically verbalizes her opinion, providing bada a solution to the situation as she look at her leader's face, a smile displaying on her face brightly as she waits for the answer.

however, the younger girl's expression quickly turns into a painful one as the girl sitting beside her – lusher – quickly pinched her on the outer thigh of her right leg.

"don't say that", lusher whispers underneath her breath, small enough for everyone to question what she just said, but loud enough for minah to catch it. in response to that minah just gives lusher a questionable look as she look at the smile on lusher's face. the sub-leader ignored this as she waves her hand towards bada, teling bada to continue.

despite lusher's effort to stop minah from speaking any further about the sensitive topic, the tall girl seems to be quiet after what minah had said, her eyes look unfocused as her right index finger taps against the surface of the meeting table.

bada had been buying flowers for haneul every anniversary, it's like a tradition for her to do. although this tradition didn't start in the beginning of their relationship, bada seems to have developed it after they went to that small flower shop at the corner of the road in the city.

it's always a hydrangea flower bouquet. never once did bada change it to another type. she didn't buy it because of the meaning, no, she bought it because she always wanted the one she loves to smile just as brightly as the day she first bought that hydrangea bouquet for her.

yet . .

a sigh leave bada's mouth, her body relaxes as she shifts her focus back to the meeting. "you can get back to work now, just focus on the other tasks, i still need you to get it done by tonight, i'll talk to the flower shop i know", bada said, standing up from the chair she recently just sat in and walking away from the meeting room.

ಇ.

"hello, yes i would like to buy a bouquet, no, not a hydrangea, i would like peony this time."

series taglist (OPEN) : please ask to be add / remove.

© aebeism 2024

[justjams2003]

Fast Pace- 13

Am I being mean by releasing the last 3 chapters week for week? Maybe just a bit 🤭

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, the word 'daddy', nudity, a garbage family, family trauma, disowning, tell me if I missed any

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis @carlossainzwho @lordpercevalcharles @topguncultleader @kitixie @serp3ns0rtiae @hangmandruigandmav @therealone4r @keii134 @dark-night-sky-99 @jax-the-oregonian @hachrinnen

Word count: 3,2k

Masterlist

Part 12 ~Part 14 (coming soon)

“Elle dort profondément, la journée a été longue.” Y/N’s brother and parents both look up at me in shock. I can’t help but laugh at their expressions. We’ve been here three days and if it weren’t for her family, it would be idyllic.

We’ve gone hiking in the beautiful mountains, she’s shown me all around her hometown. She has so many memories here, a lot of them good, but when I hear the things her mother says to her, I can’t but wonder if she’s sugar coating some of it.  

“What? You didn’t think that me, a million-dollar man who travels the world every day, with a French teammate, wouldn’t speak French? Not even a little?” I can only sigh at their foolishness; I see now why my sweet girl is so easy to...shape. Luckily for her, she has me and no one would dare hurt her with me around. Her family, however, after what I’ve seen they don’t get the same lenience.  

 I sit down on the table, “Tell me, how much do you want?” If I was some old-timey villain I would take out my checkbook and write some obscure numbers with lots of zeros. Her brother furrows his brows, “How much of what?”

I chuckle, I thought at least he would be smarter, I guess not. “Money. How much do you want to never speak to Y/N ever again?” Her mother scoffs and begins rambling about just how important she is to her.  

“Look, you’re a terrible influence on my precious girl. You make her feel terrible about herself after I spent all that time convincing her otherwise. Now, we can do as normal families do and only see each other on the holidays. Even then, it’s going be exhausting for her. So, why don’t we just take a short cut? How much money for you to kick her out of your life, permanently?” Her brother looks appalled and disgusted.  

His fist goes to find my jaw, but I catch his hand before he even comes close. “Be serious, you might be a rough and tough city farm boy, but I’ve spent years of my life practising my reflexes.” I take him by his shoulders and shove him back down in his chair. “How much will it be, mom, dad? Fifty thousand, a hundred thousand, or shall we go into the millions?” Everyone goes quiet at the numbers I’m talking of.  

“See? That wasn’t so hard? Now, Cash or Card?”  

“They’re so unbelievable! You know what, no, I’m glad that they did this. She’s been nothing but a cruel bitch all my life. Now that I’m happy, she hates it.” She screams into the phone, she’s standing next to the bathroom trying to get some distance from other people.

“No, I don’t care if they’re my family, who says that to someone?” She scoffs, likely she’s talking to Jasmine and Ilsa, I know Alex and Kika would defend me.  

She’s angry, a wrinkle in a brow and I just want to make it all go away. Maybe even, I’ll have to get rid of those two friends as well. They’re not good for her either. “I know I’ve only known him for a month and a half, but it’s been the best few weeks of my life! It’s been better than anything I’ve had with that fucked family of mine. And the fact that you two can’t see that, really shows me something about you two.”  

Her footsteps are loud on the floor of the plane. She throws her phone on the seat and plops herself down in my lap. Instantly her head finds the crook of my neck and her small hand takes fists full of my shirt. She pulls me as close as possible to me and wrap my arms around her. This is where she belongs, nowhere else but in my arms.  

 Her whole-body shakes as sobs make its way through her. “No te preocupes, mi dulce niña. Estoy aquí para ti. No importan, sólo estamos tú y yo. Just you and me. You have me now, you don’t need them.” I soothe her cries, rubbing circles on her back as she mumbles on about how awful they are and how evil they’re being.

I know it’s better for her in the long run, but it hurts my heart to see her like this. Hurting. At the same time, having her cling to me as if I am her lifeline is a feeling I can’t help but savour.  

“Carlos, where are we going?” A sigh escapes me. “Singapore, for the next race. But I have to talk to you about it.” She raises her head; she has these big doe eyes that has this melting effect on me. Yet at the same time, it makes the khaki’s I’m wearing tighter than I’d like it to be. “This is going to be the hardest race of the year. For the rest of the week until at least Friday, I’m going to be very busy with very hard training.”  

I know for a fact that this is the worst time possible to leave her alone. Right now, I need to be with her every moment. She has to be with me and no one else otherwise my whole plan will be for nothing. I have to be the only one comforting her, if not she’ll think that she can rely on others. My sweet thing whines at the realisation and goes to hide her face again but I stop her before she does.  

“I know, I’m sorry. But, I really don’t want to leave mi dulce niña alone, no?” She shakes her head, wiping her tears with the same hoodie I’d given her at the very beginning. I might have blasted the AC, just to see her wear it again. I know it gives her comfort and she just looks like a doll with it on. So small and so cute, I feel as if the love is oozing from my heart.  

“Now, we have one of two options. It’s not too late, we can still turn this plane around. Get you a nice, big apartment somewhere in France.” She stops me before I can even continues.

“No, I don’t ever want to see that damn country ever again. What if I see one of them again? I’d much rather live on the streets.” I can’t help but smirk, taking her small hands into mine.  

“I thought so. What about somewhere in Madrid? Why don’t you move in with me?” Her eyes go even bigger and bites down on that puffy lower lip of hers. I adjust her to sit on my other leg, the friction between us making me rock hard. Soon after, her eyes avoid mine. Her eyebrows pull together and I can’t help but reach up and smooth the crinkle in her forehead. 

So much seems to be running through her mind, and it shouldn’t be. Things should be easy for her, look pretty and be my pet. That should be the end of it. But this world can be so heartless and make the important people in our lives hurt. “Tell me, mi niña bonita, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”  

She sighs and then gives me those big doe eyes again. This time they’re all puffy from crying, and she looks just as beautiful as the day I met her. “Daddy, I don’t want to leave your side.”

Her words are like lava through my body. I take her chin and give her a kiss on her cheek. “I know, baby, but what other option is there? Follow me everywhere I go? You’ll get bored, I’m sure.” She doesn’t hesitate and shakes her head.  

“No, no, I promise. I’ll be good.” This would be more perfect than any other option. Having her by my side for the whole world to see. “I don’t know, cosas dulce,” it’s mostly just an act, I want her to beg. “Please Daddy, please?” She jumps ever so slightly on my lap and I can’t help but holding her waist to keep her still, not knowing how much longer I can hold out. Especially when she’s like this.  

Y/N takes her small hands and hold my face. Then she places a kiss on my cheek, then the other. I take her petite hands in mind. “Oh, alright, but no whining missy.” I hold out my hand, showing how stern I am. But she wraps her fingers around mine and gives me the biggest brightest smile. “You know I can’t say no to you.”  

“Carlos?” I had just finished pretty extensive training for the race. The whole gym room’s heat is all the way up to 30 Degrees Celsius, sweat is dripping off me. My hair is wet, luckily my girl gave me one of her headbands to keep my hair out of my face.

I could see her eyeing me the whole time. I couldn’t bare the heat much long, and just had to take my shirt of. Or maybe it was tactical to get her attention, nobody will ever know.  

“Yes, mi querido?” She gets up from her seat, discarding her phone which she had been so engulfed in before. Her hips sway, she too is sweating and is wearing the smallest little shorts I’ve seen in a while. It entrances me, every time she walks, the way her legs move. The way those tiny shorts sits a way below her naval. Showing off what all the boys are missing out on.  

Y/N makes her way over to me, her fingers dancing on my shoulder. “No, mi cosa bonita, you don’t want to touch me. I’m sweaty and smelly.” She scoffs and wraps her arms around my neck. “You’re saying that like I care.” I can’t help but chuckle at her attitude. Yes, last week changed her, but so far it’s for the better. My hands find her hips, “You’ve been looking so good lately, cosas dulce.”  

Her laugh alights my whole body. “You’ve been using that one a lot lately, I’ll have to google it,” I pretend to wince at her words. “No, cosas dulce, I might get in trouble.” Now she really does laugh, throwing her head back like she does when she’s comfortable. “Why do you laugh?” She shakes her head, “You, Mister Sainz, could never get in trouble with me. You’ve been nothing but perfect.”  

I pull her closer to me, our hips touching the other. “Is that so? I’ll have to hold you up to that.” I can’t help but place kisses all over her bare neck. “Except right now.” My heart rises and I’m just glad the monitors aren’t on.

Has she found out? No, no it can’t be. If she did, she’d be a lot more upset. Or would she? Would she be happy that I did it? Relief to get rid of them and have them well cared for at the same time. She doesn’t look happy now, but she doesn’t look to upset.  

“I’m scrolling through Instagram, right, only to see an edit about you. Guess my surprise that I found out through an Instagram reel that I missed your birthday!” Oh yes, that, is that really all? I can’t help but laugh at how serious she is. “You didn’t miss it; we did celebrate it.” Her eyebrows furrow, “What do you mean?” I love the way her long hair sways to the side when she’s confused.  

“Your fashion show, after the shopping trip. It was more than enough of a present for me. Not to mention you got the sunglasses, with our initials on them.” She scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“You keep calling me hardheaded, but you can be even more dense than me.” I laugh, she can be so complex. Switching from soft and needing to be held one moment, to sassy and chatty the next. I love every moment.  

A hum escapes me, “Aren’t you brave, talking to me like that, cosas dulce?” She ignores my words and carries on. “It doesn’t count as a birthday gift, if I didn’t even know it’s your birthday.” I sigh, seeing now that she’s going to be persistent on this. “That’s why I love it so much. You gave me a gift without even knowing. Call it something poetic, like our souls just knowing, or something simple. Like the kindness you give me that no one else does.”  

She pushes out her bottom lips and her eyes go all big again. “Carlos, that’s really beautiful.” She pulls me down by the neck and gives me a kiss on the cheek. Oh, how I cherish those. I remember each and every one. “But, at least allow me to make you dinner tonight.” I don’t want her going through all the trouble, or making too much of a fuss.  

“Don’t bother, cosas dulce. There’s no point in celebrating. 34 Years and I spent most of them racing, to no avail. A team that fucks me over, another year with no win and still no championship behind my name. And the rookies are getting younger and younger, and better and better. I’m sure I’ll lose my seat in a year or two and after that, it’s retirement for me.”

I didn’t mean to spill out all my thoughts just like that. But when she looks at me with those eyes, I wan’t to tell her everything.  

She cooes and pulls me tight in her arms. “Don’t talk like that. I’m sure you want our kids to see you race at least once.” What? She surprises me again and again. This is good, very good. She’s seeing what I see. Our goals are aligning. Before long I’ll have her all to myself. “You mean it?” Her smile lights up the room and my life.  

“Of course, now give me your card. Brutis, Otis and I are going grocery shopping.” That’s my girl. No longer afraid to ask. “You know where it is, cosas dulce.”  

I can hear music blasting through the hotel room, along with my girl screaming the lyrics at the top of her lungs, like always. She’s dancing and swaying to the music. Her hips move in ways that entice. But the most attractive thing about her, is that she looks as happy as can be. Pure joy radiates off her like the sun’s rays. Nothing is as beautiful as her delight and I just need to be a part of it.  

I scoop her up in my arms and place her on the first open space on the counter. She breaks out in giggles, “Aren’t I glad you’re feeling better,” she mutters between laughs as I make marks all over her neck and shoulders.

“How can I not with such a beauty in my arms?” She blushes and still giggles as my scruff tickles her. But soon she gently pushes me away, not far, by the chest. Her hands there is like fuel to my engine. Sparking my whole body to keep her here, trapped.

“You’re just in time,” she smiles jumping off and plating the food she had made. “I made Fideuà.” At just the mention, memories of my childhood come rushing back. Big Christmas family dinners, with lots of people. Kids running around, screaming with delight, as people laugh and drink lots of wine. “Ah, mi amor, now you are bringing back some good memories, no?”  

Y/N’s smile is big as she hands me the plate and pours some white wine. The first bite is perfect, the taste of fish explodes in my mouth. After it’s the texture of the pasta and the hint of Saffron.

“Wow, I must say, mi amor, this is as good as Mama’s.” This makes her smile as wide as ever. “Really, you mean it? You’re not lying?” There are some slight differences, but it’s incredibly hard to notice. I shake my head no.  

“It’s almost identical.” She blooms with joy and her cheeks are just so faintly red. “Caco sent me the recipe from your mom.” I should have known. “My, my, already in kahoots with my family.” I pull her into my lap as we both enjoy our dinners. “Speaking of, mi amor, I want you to meet my family. And I know you still feel unsure about moving in with me. But if you meet my parents and see the city...”  

Her gaze is stuck on her dinner as she just moves the shrimp around. “I’ll meet your parents, but I won’t promise you anything.” That’s good enough. That’s more than good enough.  

Xxxx  

There is a blazing heat through the paddock. Everyone is sweating and I can only imagine Carlos must be so uncomfortable in his racing suit. Boiling hot, you can see his hair is sweating but you know he won’t wear his headband in public.

It’s a maybe five minutes until they play the national anthem. Yet still through the flurry of everything and everyone he still makes his way towards where you stand with Caco in the garage.  

He hands you his drink, with the weird tube and everything, clearly given to him by Rupert. “Here, it’s very hot, remember to drink a lot of water.” You sigh and take him by the race suit.

“Carlos. Your race starts in twenty mintues, you shouldn’t be bothering yourself with me.” He clicks his tongue. “Siempre tan testarudo,” you sigh, you’ve googled it before and he says it so much that you know he’s calling you hardheaded.  

“Carlos!” The people call out his name, they could get a penatly if he misses the song. “I’m coming! Caco, asegúrate de que bebe mucha agua.” He speaks to his cousin, who agrees. He goes to leave but you grab him by his suit and pull him back. His lips fit perfectly onto yours. He pulls you close by the waist, his other hand rake deep into your hair.  

He kisses you back with such passion. Like a fire lighting between you two. Your soul finally finds rest. You’ve been wanting this for weeks and now you’re finally taking it for yourself. And you can tell by the way he holds you and pulls you closer that this is what he’s wanted. He’s been yearning for it just as much as you have.  

Finally, when there is no air left in your lungs you’re forced to break apart. “I’ll move in with you.” His whole body comes alive with joy. “Really?” His smile is wider than I’ve ever seen before. “Yes really, now go before Ferrari fine me themselves!”  

Hollywood Life 

“Y/N Y/S/N’s content quality and quality raises, could she have gotten herself a full PR team?” 

Glamour 

“Fans are going crazy as the boost in Y/N Y/S/N’s conent shows new insight on her and her boyfriend Carlos Sainz’s life that’s never been seen before.”  

Page Six 

“Carlos Sainz and his girlfriend seem to be attached at the hip.”  

Us Weekly 

“People are freaking out over Carlos Sainz’s post race interview:  ‘The first non-Red Bull win of the season. What would you like to say?’  ‘I’d like to thank my girlfriend. She’s the reason for this trophy. I know I should be thanking the team, but I know they’d much rather have Charles win this. So, this is for her.’ 

E!News 

“Carlos Sainz and his girlfriend seen celebrating in a club with Lando Norris as the DJ.” 

People Magazine 

“Fans are swooning after a video of Carlos Sainz winking to his girlfriend on the first place podium surfaces.”  

My taglist is open, just ask! :)

[drippingmoon]

Merry new year to everyone, again! 🥳💞🥂

I know it wasn’t an event this year, but writing a yearly wrap-up is really therapeutic, you know? So I decided to continue the tradition, and if anyone wants to join me, absolutely view this as an open invitation^^ Introduction is over, and now let’s see what 2023 looked like:

(spoilers: I adored it. I'm also probably going to make this my fixed post, in case anyone ever wants to catch up with me. And also because my second baby, AoS, is growing, and it doesn't have an intro, but I can't leave it out.)

Stats

Aquiver, Aglow: 181k (draft 4) + 195k (draft 5) + hmm, draft 6 is an outlier, because I didn’t rewrite from scratch, so I’m unsure of the written word count. I didn’t change much from draft 5, so I’d say an extra 15-20k. Total word count: 376k+

Remains of a Night: 120k 

Aberration of Sunlight: 134k

This was definitely my most productive year to date. And I got so hungry: the more I wrote, the more I just wanted to keep writing, and honestly? I’m proudest of myself for literally carving writing time whenever I got a spot into my schedule. Mostly it was from 8pm-11pm, but I had a mad run where my only free window was from 1am till I literally felt I was dying… I’ll talk about that separately🤣🤣👌

Though, I'm seriously understating it.

Like a lot of other people, I would have all these hours when I was younger when I didn't have anything to do, yet I'd still find some excuse not to write. "I'm waiting for the right time." "I'm anxious I'm not going to get it right." "Tomorrow! Tomorrow I can start right from the morning, and I'll have more time to write, yeah?" or "I'm too tired now, it's late..." and so the snowball rolled down and downhill and I found every reason under the sun not to write, now that I think about it. Sigh. So much time wasted. But I can't regret it either, because I needed those baby steps at that time.

And now! Now I do what I thought I'd never learn to: I prioritize, and I actually organize my daily stuff so it's not so impossible anymore to have a little bit of writing time. I don't take it for granted either. It feels like such character growth for me, I'm immensely proud of it.

And for the record? This year was a huge improvement over yesteryear mentally, too. It turns out, what I needed to get over my word count anxiety… was to be faced with people who literally didn’t give a fuck about it, and just cared about the story. One of the most unexpected things beta stage managed to do to me… was to quench all my anxieties. It’s as simple as that. I read and enjoy very long books. People also do that. So, I’m very happy to say I’m no longer in a tizzy about ‘quiv. It might kill my chances for trad publishing, it might not. I’ll be happy come what may.

Because it’s so simple how working on ‘quiv or thinking about it makes me joyous, and now I can just enjoy that freely. I will miss writing this story so much. I really will. But at least I’ll have it forever to reread, and I hope this thought brings comfort to everyone who also has problems letting go, like it does to me.

Let’s break it down a little, shall we?🤩

Aquiver, Aglow◇◇◇

My little star of the hour. How fond I am of it.

Like you could glean from above, ‘quiv went through three drafts this year. More specifically: in the first part of the year, practically almost as soon as February arrived. I knew it was getting closer to the final version, and gave me the push to finish all three back to back. I couldn’t justify anymore the bazillion AUs I do with rewrites (basically, WHAT IFs from events, WHAT IF it went this different way, WHAT IF Tyrone actually said this here… and so on and so forth. I wanted to test out as many pathways as possible, and did I exhaust every one of them in existence? Definitely not. I don’t think that can happen, you just keep getting new ideas. On and on. What happened, instead, is that these couple different pathways, at some point, cemented themselves as canon in my mind. I didn’t want to tease myself with alternatives anymore, and that’s when I knew they would be it. Some bits from the first draft, some from the third, some from the second. Some were even draft 6 originals!

It’s a bit of a weird process. I definitely didn’t need to reach draft 3, and meet Mezusa, because I could’ve feasibly made it work with just Yles in the story. It still would’ve made sense, though in a different way. But if I hadn’t… I might’ve missed one of the best characters I’ll ever probably have created, and the story (and Yles) is much stronger for her, if you ask me. 

For that matter, yes, full rewrites every single draft might take a lot of time and effort, but honestly I don’t think I’d ever change my writing process (save for the moments of frustration when I think I will lol) because of the sheer satisfaction of it. Whoever said so long never to settle on the first version, I owe you a beer and probably some curses as well lmao, but very lovingly. You shaped my writing life.

I don’t have much else to share about ‘quiv, other than it’s off with my beta readers my beloved, and maybe a tentative promise that, if anyone wants, you’ll be able to read this precious ball of hope of mine relatively soon. This story is so gentle to me. And as much as I loved to write and work on it, I dearly hope that whoever decides to give it a go, is treated just the same. That’s the only wish I have.

I also don’t know if I’ll go trad or self-published. Instincts say trad, because I fuckin’ suck at marketing (fact), and I know I’d grow resentful if I’d have to put so many hours into advertising when I know I could instead… write. I’m a writer. That’s the only thing I know how to do. Trad, however, might not be as kind on a ~200k as life’s been, so I might not have a choice. If it comes down to that… I’ll just treat it as I do everything. I don't love this story any less if I just write, publish without a fuss, hope that maybe, just maybe, a reader or two will stumble upon the story and we could talk. Maybe we can have the fun of our lives, create some genuine connection. I know that’s applies to a lot of writers. I hope we can accomplish it.

And so, I’ll finish this section of the wrap-up with a kiss to my ‘quiv, for all the warmth it’s ever brought me. It’s come so far, I know it can live distinct from me from now on. It brings me great comfort. And I look forward to the times I’ll reread it, and we can relive our best experiences together. Never thought I’d get to this point. Thank you, ‘quiv.

Remains of a Night♤♤♤

Mwhahaha! And because ‘quiv took all the pressure, this left AoS to be an extremely fun and spirited experience. Literally the chillest I’ve ever been writing. In many ways, it’s more my thing than I expected ‘quiv to be: I get to murder characters left and right, it’s more plot-heavy and banking on the tension created by a creature that horrifies the characters down to their marrow, but still the only way to defeat it is to know it better, which, uh, might have unpleasant consequences for them. It’s got chase and stealth scenes, and it always shoots me with adrenaline to think about them. In short, exactly my jam.

It’s not a new book, nope. You knew it before as Aberration of Sunlight, but from the get-go I felt it would be bigger than ‘quiv. Very fortunately for me, I had a place where to break it, and behold: there’s RoaN (book 1), and AoS (book 2). There might be a third book, which I dearly hope not because titling sucks, but it depends on the Sycamine arc. More on that in AoS.

One last thing to note, before we delve into the story (hoo-ray for earlier drafts, because I can talk more frankly about them). This is the culprit of my 1am writing adventures!!😫❤ My schedule became too packed, then NaNo came round and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to honor how AoS began, because it was last year’s NaNo, aaand I’m happy to say I won NaNo, somehow, with 56k down before I died. At that time, I only had one section left to write (from both books), otherwise, hahahaha, yeah, it wouldn’t have flown. Still, most of draft 2 I’d written in September-October, with my fairy lights, late nights, and cups of hot cocoa, exactly like how life should be<3

Alright. We’re going through them chapter-by-chapter again, exactly because I love seeing the titles so much:

ACT 1

Cracked Visor, Scorpion Grass

I did it! I did! Twas another shower thought I managed to get down in time. Bare broken sentences, but they did the impossible, and arranged this chapter into a structure I adore to bits and won't ever change. (And 'quiv's naughty voice left me alone for once and I could write it properly!) While I don't think I'll ever be happy with a first chapter (not as a concept, but the writing — part of me will always wish that the reader just had all the information already lol), this one is in the right place.

It pays its respects to the story of the broken helmet at the foot of a spaceship, and how it reconnects Madigan with all the people who'd suffered from being tethered to the planets when they yearned to fly, but the Beast punished them cruelly for it. It makes him feel phantoms of their efforts. The tone is exactly what I needed this story to start from: melancholy and numbly hopeless, against the backdrop of the Beasts's echoed cries.

Rain Through the Universe

Unlike 'quiv, because RoaN and AoS are way more plot-heavy, it's not as easy to change things willy-nilly (whereas 'quiv was all about character bonds and dynamics). As such, it's very similar to draft 1. Because of that, I'll frankendraft next (select and combine drafts 1 and 2, rewrite to connect them) and afterwards I'll try something I've always wanted to. (Scrivener keeps hinting at it!) I'm gonna split the chapters into scenes, and focus on those individually and how I can just rewrite them and set their purpose in stone<3 I'm excited!

As for the chapter itself, gods, I love the atmosphere. Just the wreckage of a sundered ship, and Madigan’s sudden madman appearance making a lasting impression on Spica, because how could it not. They no longer answer distress calls in that age, it just means more dead bodies. In fact, they're forbidden to. Madigan instead brings him what he himself lacks: hope. And a lot of crawling around while dreading the Beast's lambent eye opening, and oh my, the moments are really flying by😈👏 extreme fun for me as the writer.

Aberration of Light

If you remember, the books follow two timelines, which will connect at some point. The first and main one is Madigan and Spica’s story. The other is Holloway’s, in the distant past of that universe, and who’s been dubbed the most selfish man in existence. That’s important, because of how the Beast came to be. But that becomes important later. For now, a weird-ass new recruit has joined the ship, and the witchy crew will very soon start making bets if she’s the Beast in human flesh, which really wouldn’t bode well for their future.

Night Falls On Their Reflection

Draft 2 became Spica’s draft. It was high time. He didn't exist in the original idea beyond chapter 2, but he refused to die with his story untold. And now he's one of the most independent thinkers I've ever written. Now he's Madigan's son (yes, even at 25), best friend, back-to-back partner all in one, and I could watch the trust and mutual respect between these two forever. To be sure: Madigan comes up with the dumbass plans, and Spica's only too happy to follow him through everything (it is good fun.)

He's repaying the incredible kindness Madigan's shown him when answering his distress call, after all.

But it goes a bit further than that, doesn't it? Madigan is used to watching over myriad people. He's the Superintendent of his planet, and while he genuinely loves people, kindness is his default. It doesn't go further than that for him. He doesn't necessarily think people need, much less desire his presence there beyond Madigan extending help, and most of the time, he's content with that. Kindness does make him happy. And it should be the same with Spica now, shouldn't it? He's kind, but he's not Spica's family, nor ever will be. Yet he immediately feels a connection with the boy, that has nothing to do with bonding over escaping-a-cosmic-disaster. And so does Spica.

This is the moment when Madigan starts feeling guilty, for stepping where he should not. But here's the beauty of Spica's character: he's nothing if not dead sure of his own feelings, and what he sees with his eyes. It's okay if Madigan keeps unexpectedly taking steps back. For very long, there'd been nobody to support Spica's beliefs. So he does the same, as when he followed his heart to go into dead space: he believes in himself and Madigan, and that their paths aren't meant to diverge. They mean too much to each other for that to ever happen.

(In short, and legend says you can still hear me screeching about these two ten thousand years later, I love these two so much, and especially the parallels between Spica going alone into outer space and loving Madigan.)

(And, okay, obviously all these developments don't happen in a single chapter, but I couldn't stop gushing🤭🥰.)

Who Puts These Tombs in Ice

Overall, I think draft 2’s Luitgart performed worse than draft 1. Mainly it's the setting I want to revert (still an icy, sempiternally dark hell, but with different ice constructions) because some of the beats are a huge improvement, and again, I gotta combine the two. Otherwise, I’m still as obsessed about the Luitgart arc as I’ve ever been, and huge thanks to it for being so strong it could function as an ending of its own, allowing me to split the book.

Gettin’ into spoilery territory, but I have to un-kill Madigan so many times it leaves me in hysterics. That was what I was supposed to fix this draft. It got worse. Considerably.

(One constant: the chapter being a love letter to Madigan, and how his first answer will always be to help the other, no matter if they deserve it or not<3 and finally, finally, he gets acknowledged for it, and the favor returned.)

ACT 2

Lemon-Dotted Days + Remnant

Two Holloway chapters! I’m actually massively pleased with how they’ve turned out. Last year, I said the main issue was that I had an outline, and that never works for me. So I did what I do best and rewrote everything from scratch, and the result is both uncanny and… unexpected.

Unexpected, because I never in my life thought Holloway’s voice would make me laugh so much. He’s supposed to be unsympathetic, but then you get his interactions with Saintlark (the new crewmate, possibly Beast) where they’re contemplating the harvest of a nebula, and he’s harshly critical of it, which gives Saintlark hope… only to go deadpan One Moment Later: if they’d used the nebula to prolong their lives instead of bolstering the war, they wouldn’t have died like clown idiots. 

And, they could’ve maybe stolen immortality from the nebula. They would've had to share it with him, of course. Or he would've murdered them to get it.

That, my guys, is his personality in a nutshell.

I have a lot of feelings on Holloway now, and most involve me huffing and slapping my forehead while groaning, but oh my gods. Was it ever so fun. And wait, wait, wait. Since I'm talking of humor (apparently a lot of comedy fit into this horror lmfao) I have to show you guys the following section🤣🤣👏:

Corpse Snow

The drifters are set howling on the ice. They share glances, five separate vehicles nodding at each other. Madigan revs up the engine, splitting the air with a jet of steam and vibration.

The last of the marines are climbing into the box. A figure flashes past Madigan’s drifter — and he leans over, teeth grinding because of his ribs, and he does his very best to grab someone by the back of their suit and pull. Workout days were never his strength, though. He only succeeds in stopping them in the frost smoke.

It’s Spica dangling from his hand, expressionless.

Lieutenant Hahn instantly seizes on the situation. He throws Madigan a long, withering look. “Whatcha doing, Boss?” he asks softly, about to unhinge his jaw again.

Madigan nudges Spica into the drifter. “Picking up your boy.”

Spica gets the hint and deposits himself into the front seat, glancing from his father to his Superintendent. He seems to give up on whatever’s going on, and makes himself cozy in the frosty spot. And Madigan, of course, pretends not to notice Hahn’s drifter sliding closer.

“And you didn’t consider I might want to have my son with me?”

Madigan looks up and sighs. “Lieutenant, dear Lieutenant,” he starts pleadingly. “Why won’t you show some leniency to a poor, wounded man?”

Hahn’s drifter stops, summoning a breeze across the icy floor that gently rocks the other vehicle. His breathing distorts the comms with static. “And what exactly is my son right now?”

“My trusty navigator,” Madigan answers easily.

“Sir’s emotional walking stick?” Spica pipes in at the same time.

They both look over. Spica’s quietly turned to the navigation, as serene as daylight, seemingly oblivious to how Madigan's expression changes, lightning-fast. He quickly hides it under the guise of a polite mask, as the marines stir and turn their attention on them. They’re snickering.

Lieutenant Hahn throws up his hands, giving up on everything.

This is also the first 30k chapter I’ve ever written. It's everything I've ever wanted to do with ice.

Heart of the Void

The end of the book. Originally, it was the ending section to Corpse Snow, but since it already got so ungodly long, I chipped off that bit and I have to say I’m very happy with how it works as an epilogue! So it ends the frosty, weary journey, and I can’t see the two books as separate yet, but here we bid goodbye to the first.

Aberration of Sunlight♧♧♧

I did the unthinkable and created a fifth arc. This might not seem like much to you, but I was screaming bloody murder you guys😭😭😭. Sigh. It’s so sigh. For so long, AoS consisted of four clear-cut acts, but it was necessary. With the introduction of Sycamine, and making it two books, it was just needed. It’s still one of the worst things I’ve ever done because I was used to four😃💔

(The chapters continue from where RoaN left off – from chapter 10, to 21.)

ACT 3

Retro Spectrum

Sycamine, oh Sycamine. Definitely the break I needed before Days in Darkness. It made for a really neat beginning. It’s calmer, focusing on the knowledge they have on the Beast. It’s also a reflection on Procyon (their main star) and the story of the two straggler dog constellations, and what they'd been running away from. I liked the direction it took. It veered away from the Beast for a bit, so the tension kept expanding in the background. And when it returns, well... maybe they shouldn't have been so eager to see it again🤭.

It suffers from the same syndrome as draft 1’s first chapter… it’s there in the vicinity of the idea, but too much to the left. Not bad for a first attempt. The setting annoys me – I really don't enjoy writing cities, and AoS didn't change that. So, for our next try, I was thinking... maybe we don't need to be on the planet, but up close and veeery personal with it. It's a secret❤.

And, oh gods. I put a moustache-twirling villain in this. And then I couldn’t stop myself from naming some sucker Sweetman Calories. I don’t know what happened to me during those days, but I’m crying🤣🤣🤣.

Toast to the Light

Holloway and Saintlark’s story is slowly coming to an end. Unexpectedly bleaker than draft 1, yet it feels much more sincere. Holloway has a way of saying everything Saintlark needs to hear. No surprise. They did that to themselves.

Dissonant Recognition

Ahhhh, the Madigan-is-slowly-losing-his-grip-on-reality chapter, or maybe he should really stop staring into the suns. One of my favorites<3 Also because it features Moren (!!!) who has a blast staying in the grey morality area, because she doesn’t know if her actions could ever matter, or if she could change anything. Does she just exist? Is she a player or just pawn? Who knows. Besides that, she gets along great with Spica. They form such a teasing duo, the level of mutual respect they felt for each other on sight was a delight to write. My favorite ally of theirs, even if her destiny lies elsewhere.

Night Beneath the Elevator

Best title hands down, dethroning Solgesis. I’m going batshit crazy about the visuals, it's exactly my thing. This half-light slanted over an elevator waiting in a rundown basement to be boarded. And there's something underneath it, and always has been. Something insidiously creeping up and waving its tendril fingers at you as you're just waiting for the fucking thing to ascend. Immaculate, guys, I'm telling you, and I'm cursing my hands because I can't make a wallpaper of this. I want to eat that atmosphere.

Time-sensitive missions, y'all.

And why the heck did nobody inform me I was going to add Command as an actual character and have them talk with Madigan?! That entire convo, made up entirely on the spot but somehow with a direction, made me realize what an idiot I’d been for not doing it sooner. They mean so much to Madigan, after all.

(And Mariya. So much Mariya in these chapters.)

ACT 4

Loop System

Like Who Puts These Tombs in Ice, draft 1 might’ve done it better. Not Spica and Madigan, though, because of the sheer development Spica’s been through and the dynamic he’s managed to form with the crew. It's different from Madigan’s, but similar enough that it’s got Hahn commenting lightly: [Spica’s] picked up quite a few habits from Madigan, hasn’t he? Almost as if they’ve gotten very very close, huh? How about Madigan tell him more?

(I adore writing Hahn.)

Outreach

Another Holloway chapter. Doesn’t have the punch of the kids subplot from draft 1, but this just makes it worse for Saintlark personally, because, this time, the consequences are on her.

Days in Darkness

I knew the moment I first got the idea this would be my favorite chapter. Well, it finally happened in draft 2: when the entire crew is here, this time, and ready for the final countdown, to relive the experience of being trapped in a ship that's disintegrating. No more heroes left behind. I'd been so tired writing this chapter in draft 1, but this time around it was incredible. Everything went up sharply from here, both in terms of events and how on fire I was.

(Maybe less than the gorgon, but I was.)

ACT 5

Echo Terminal

The first of the two log chapters.

I've never written smoother, more visual chapters than in this period. Days in Darkness changed me so much, I was writing day and night by this point and couldn't get enough. Well, I hit my limit in the second half of the very last chapter, but I am beyond satisfied. Even the Beast's metamorphosis took me by storm, because I'd been wondering what the final verbs, the final images, the final design for it was going to be. I didn't expect it to come to me this early, and with such thrill. Those were my very best days of the year, and I toast to them.

(And I knew it was going to be fantastic when Halo's Warthog Run OST started blaring in my head, with as much adrenaline.)

Where, Now? + Solgesis

My beloved. The second and last of the two log chapters, but it’s Noelle Saintlark’s log.

Holloway’s timeline ends here. Or maybe it just gets carried into the future. I thought I’d want to rewrite his parts again, make the plot just a tiny bit more psychedelic and nonsensical because it’s so close to the Beast… but Solgesis put all my fears to rest. Even the formatting and layout is a bit of that special thing I’ve always wanted to try, and it really changes the perspective of the previous chapters. There's a new confession that stands at the heart of Holloway's stories.

Honestly, the only thing that needs urgent working on is the anger at the end of the chapter.

Anger is so hard for me to write sometimes. Not because I don’t connect with it, but because I feel self-conscious writing it. The wildest I felt it was when I tackled 'quiv's chapter 3 and Imera's Turning speech, both in quick succession (before I'd even written draft 1. I'd been taking notes.) Since then... I just thing back to how keenly I'd felt that anger, and I kind of intimidate myself out of it. Kind of like a natural resistence, I quench it from myself. Which is actually hilarious when you think about it. It’s like I’m going I BANISH THEE FROM MY BRAIN because generally, as a person, I dislike feeling and operating on anger. But no worries. I’m going to find a way around it.

Watch me😎.

What Goes Around…

(Now it’s the time for me to start crying some rivers, and, alright, it won’t be visible so I’ll say it: the chapter titles are holding a conversation, guys. They speak to each other. And sometimes it’s both sides of the same coin, like how What Goes Around (comes around) hints here. If you take two chapters, one from the beginning and one from the end (for example 1 and 21) it'll tell you a little secret. Okay, What Goes Around and Rain Through the Universe communicate through their plot, which I can’t spoil but of course it has to do with Madigan and Spica and how they first meet… but there is one title pair that does it best visibly. 

Lemon-Dotted Days and Days in Darkness.

And I hadn’t even planned this. All the parallels I wanted to draw… I feel like they built themselves, guys. They really did, and it makes me so wildly happy I don’t even know how to stop my hands from flailing.

And, with them being 21 chapters, they meet in the middle, on the one unpaired chapter.

Called Toast to the Light.

I friggin’ love everything.

New Sunrise, Forget-Me-Right

Of course, Forget-Me-Right is a play on Scorpion Grass. But it’s also such a gentle name for the chapter, because everything ends here. Lying on their backs, staring out into the universe, and it really, really is over. Just a dark horizon on which stars flare and bloom. And suddenly, that maddened rush to make every sacrifice count, to remember every soul they’ve encountered because the legend says the Beast absorbs you when it kills you – all that suffocating pressure dissipates. Lightness remains. Because they’ve protected each other.

For the first time in my writing journey, blood rushed to my head with such emotion I had to stop writing, which never happens. I had to look up and exclaim, holy fuck. But how could I not, considering how the story ends for the Beast? I am speechless. A lot of gorgeous surprises this draft.

Conclusion□●□

Whew, what a year it's been! As for how 2024 will probably look like, though I don't like making plans: finishing the beta stage for 'quiv, and tackling RoaN and AoS's draft 3. Thaaaat one I'm actually starting on Christmas, when I can (finally!!) reread draft 2 with my mug of hot cocoa (or maybe mulled wine for a change) and, no surprises here, I'm hyper stoked for that<3 <3 <3 I legit can't wait to see where the new draft brings them. I might not have set any expectations for them, but they're vying to keep up with 'quiv and I adore it🤭❤

As for my lovely friends... well, you know by how I spam your tags how much I adore you and wish you happiness forever🤩🥺🥳 I don't know what my activity will look like in the near future, so for now I won't be saying anything, and my semi-hiatus continues. Semi, because you're unforgettable and I crave to see what everyone's been up to and (!!!!) what you've written!

So let's meet in 2024 again, and all the best wishes to you, the reader🥰🥂❤.

[teaberrii]

Chapter 13: The Archons

You and Dan Heng are a match made in heaven until fate takes him away from you too soon. Years later, you think you moved on with a mutual friend who shared your grief and stuck with you during tough times until you meet a mysterious man with a striking resemblance to your past lover and a hidden motive. You’re determined to get rid of him, but how are you going to get rid of a god?

Dan Feng/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Genshin Impact and Honkai: Star Rail crossover

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

Support my writing

A car and cab pull up to a large neighbourhood with tall high-rise apartments with multiple swimming pools, luxury lounges, and gyms. You aren’t surprised, considering Furina’s wealth and status. Soon, you and the dragon gang are behind Signora as she presses a couple of buttons on a call box.

“I’ve been expecting you! Come on in.”

As the gates start opening, Dan Feng notices Zhongli's skeptical look.

“Is something wrong?” Dan Feng asks.

"Oh, it's... It's nothing," is the answer as Zhongli follows Signora inside.

"My sixth sense is telling me otherwise," Bailu says quietly.

You walk past a diamond chandelier in the lobby and politely nod at those at the receptionist's desk. Eventually, you’re standing in front of a tall door that looks identical to the others on the brightly lit floor. As soon as the door opens, you see a short, young woman with fair skin and eyes with different shades of blue.

“You…”

Everyone turns to Zhongli who looks like he's seen a ghost.

Furina smiles. “Long time no see, old friend.” She opens the door wider. “And of course, my dear Chief Justice.” 

"Old friend?" Bailu asks, looking from Furina to Zhongli. “Do you two know each other?”

“It’s… a long story,” Zhongli says, sighing.

Finally, she looks at you. “Why do I have a feeling we’ve met before?”

“I can assure you we’ve never met,” you say calmly. “But… You knew Dan Heng and his mother.”

“Ah!” Furina’s smile turns nostalgic and sad. “Were you his girlfriend? I remember…” Then, she said your name, and you nod. “He mentioned you.”

“If I may,” Neuvilette says, his arms crossed, his stern gaze never leaving Furina. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Furina pushes the door more. “I know, I know. It’s been… What? Centuries? Surely, we’ll need more than one afternoon to catch up.”

“I understand all of you have some kind of history with each other,” Signora says, entering Furina’s insanely large flat. “But, I hope we won’t deviate from our focus.”

“Ah, yes." Furina walks to the kitchen. “Lan and Nanook… Our notorious Aeons, am I correct?”

“Before that,” Neuvilette says, frowning. “I need to know. Why are you here? How are you alive?”

“Now, now, Chief Justice, I know you must be ecstatic to see your old pupil.” Furina grabs some fancy-looking teacups and starts pouring tea from an elegant-looking teapot. “Take a seat, and I’ll tell you about my little adventure.”

You, Dan Feng, and Neuvilette take one couch in the living room while Zhongli, Bailu, and Signora take the other. After putting the tray of cups and biscuits on the glass table, Furina sits in a large, blue armchair where a white cat is sleeping at the top.

“Let’s start with the basics, shall we? My name is Furina. In this world, I’m in the luxury business. But, I was once a lawyer”—she looks at Neuvilette—”studying under the great Mr. Chief Justice.”

Neuvilette frowns. “But that was centuries ago.”

Furina picks up her teacup and smiles at him. “I’ve been around much longer than you think.”

“Longer than Lan and Nanook?” Signora asks.

“Correct.”

Bailu frowns. “How? With magic?" 

“She was once a god." Furina smiles. Bailu looks from Zhongli to Furina and back to Zhongli until he says, “Before the Castle of Dragons… Before any of the gods existed, there were the Archons, the original gods who created life.”

“The Archons…”

Dan Feng looks at you. “Do you know something about them?”

“There’s a lot of folklore surrounding them. My parents used to tell me stories of them when I was a kid…” You look at Zhongli. “But those were just stories… You’re saying they really existed?”

Furina chuckles. “You’re looking at one of them.”

“Is that true?” Dan Feng asks Zhongli with obvious surprise. “You... You kept this a secret from us this whole time?”

“There was never a reason to bring it up.”

Bailu scoffs. “Yeah, I guess just randomly dropping the fact that you’re one of the original gods who created life is too much for us to bear.” She slaps his leg. “How dare you!”

Neuvilette sighs. “This is what happens when we don't talk about our pasts.”

“That’s ‘cause we want to stay away from all the gloom and doom!” Bailu says. “Heck, if I were one of the original Archons, I’d flaunt it.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Neuvilette deadpans.

“It sounds like something happened to them,” you say, taking a biscuit. “I mean…" You look at the dragon gang. "You're gods. If none of you knew Zhongli and Furina were Archons, what happened to them?”

“You catch on fast,” Furina says, leaning forward with curiosity in her eyes. “You’re supposed to be human, right? Sounds like you know quite a bit."

Signora has one leg crossed over the other. “Well? Don’t keep us in the dark.” She looks at Zhongli. “Is she right?”

“There was what was known as the Archon War,” Zhongli says, after a pause. “There wasn’t just a few of us. There was an Archon for every aspect of life. Some created terrain such as mountains and another made the seven seas. But, when it came time to decide on a ruling party, a consensus couldn’t be reached.”

A gavel hitting the block echoed throughout the large courtroom but failed to silence the overlapping conversations completely.

“We agreed upon a democratic vote,” a woman with long, dark violet hair said calmly, but her patience was wearing thin. “All of us should respect the result.”

Someone scoffed. “Respect a result where it’s skewed?” They glared at her. “You may have won, but the combined votes of the opposition clearly show they do not want you in power, Ei.”

“Please stop fighting,” a man said. “This will get us nowhere.”

Another stood up. “Screw the votes. Why are we deciding amongst ourselves? We should let the people, those we preside over, decide who should rule. We're doing this for their future, are we not? Whoever we decide on bears the responsibility of paving humanity's future."

“That is absurd! Do humans have the knowledge or common sense to decide on a proper ruling party? They are prone to bias and rely on feelings.”

As a war of words broke out, a man in a brown and white cloak watched from the sidelines before making eye contact with another who was also watching in silence: a slim, young woman with long white hair and light blue streaks.

“Instead of solving our conflict rationally, a war broke out to determine the strongest of us all,” Zhongli continues, picking up his tea. “And it wasn’t just us who suffered. Because of our actions, we also caused great grief to the humans. Crops failed to grow due to absurd weather, night and day became indistinguishable, and many natural disasters shouldn’t have happened.”

“Many died in that war,” Dan Feng says, “and only seven survived. Am I right?”

“I should have known you would know something about it.”

“I’ve read about it. But while there were details of the Archon War, there wasn’t a lot on the Archons themselves.”

“Well, you’re right. Only seven survived, but we didn’t escape unharmed.”

“We were much too weak,” Furina says, putting her teacup down and picking up a biscuit. “If we didn’t do something, we would cease to exist as we couldn’t carry out our duties as gods anymore. Those who survived still wanted to live… so, we used the last of our strength to split ourselves apart.”

“Wait a minute…” Bailu narrows her eyes. “Are you saying there’s more than one Zhongli? More than one you?”

“Not exactly,” Zhongli says. “It would be more accurate to say that we split from the power we had left which poured into repairing the damage of the Archon War. We were left as a human when we separated from our magic.”

“With all of your memories as an Archon?” Neuvilette asks.

“Gosh,” Bailu mutters. “Would that be a curse or a blessing?”

“Is that how magic was born?” Dan Feng asks. “Through the remaining powers of the Archons that seeped into different parts of life?”

Furina smiles. “Of course, there’s no solid proof… but I’d say so.”

“But… If all of you still had your memories,” you say, “how come you didn’t know each other?”

“We took on different forms and names as Archons,” Zhongli says. “While we still have our memories, we never crossed paths again since we became human.”

“I saw the look in his eyes at the door,” Furina says, slightly chuckling. “We recognized each other instantly. Perhaps that’s how it is if we ever meet the other Archons.”

“Now, hang on a darn minute,” Bailu says, turning to Zhongli. “How’d you end up at the Castle of Dragons if you’re already an Archon? You lived a human life as Zhongli and then became a god again?”

“I can ask the same for you, Furina,” Neuvilette says, frowning. “Your appearance now is how I met you. You also know who I am, which means you have memories of your life as a lawyer. The Archon War didn't happen during my time. So, I have to ask.” He looks at her. “Are you a god? A human? What are you?”

Furina finishes her tea, but before she pours herself another cup, she refills everyone else’s. “After becoming Furina, I remained human for a while until I recovered my magic." She picks up her cup and takes a long sip. “And since then, I retained this form without getting older."

“You can’t be serious,” Bailu says, frowning. “I spent a good portion of my life researching immortality and all it takes is a little Archon magic? I feel cheated.”

Furina chuckles. “Not exactly, my little doctor friend. It wasn’t just any Archon magic. It was my magic. It was like I recovered myself as a god. Except, I never changed to the form I once took. I'm stuck in this body.”

Dan Feng turns to Zhongli. “Why do I have a feeling you never tried recovering your Archon magic?”

“At one point, I did, but… I let it go.”

“Why?” Bailu asks.

“That is a story for another time,” Zhongli answers, to Bailu’s dismay. “When the Archons became human, we were treated as such. We weren't special because of our pasts. So, the story of how I became a god shares a common theme similar to yours."

After a moment of silence, Neuvilette turns to Furina. “Well, this explains how you knew so much about magic.”

Neuvilette couldn’t believe his eyes. Did a textbook—his textbook—just teleport from one place to another? But, more importantly, why was his pupil responsible? He closed the door to his study, and she spun around. 

“Chief Justice! You scared me! You could’ve said something earlier.”

“I just got here.”

Furina looked at the silent clock on the wall. “Much earlier than anticipated, but I shouldn’t have expected less.”

Neuvilette walked to the table. “What were you doing?”

“I think you knew exactly what I was doing."

Neuvilette looked at his textbook on the coffee table. “You… made something teleport.” Then, his attention went back to her. “Since when do you know something about magic?”

“It's impossible not to know something about magic, don’t you think, Chief Justice? It’s humanity’s flashy new toy.”

“But not a lot is known about it,” Neuvilette said skeptically. “How would you know how to wield it?”

Furina smiled. “I’ve been dabbling. What? Are you interested?” She chuckled. “I could mentor you if you want.”

But, Neuvilette didn’t look pleased. “It’s dangerous.”

“Are you talking about black magic? If so, then I agree.”

“All magic is dangerous,” Neuvilette emphasized. “White magic, if used for the wrong motives, does that not count as black magic?”

Furina sighed. “We are far too early to distinguish between white and black magic. But, you make a valid point, Chief Justice. I wonder how our laws will change as magic gets more developed.” She picked up his pen. “Could you imagine the possibilities if we could make people teleport?” Neuvilette narrowed his eyes. “It could change the world.”

You can’t put your finger on it, but something is tugging at the back of your mind. You remember Dan Feng’s story of the surprise military attack and your dream about eavesdropping on an important conversation. Could the woman who betrayed the brothers know something about teleportation? But, before that, you need to know…

“Was that ever made possible?"

“Hm?” Furina asks. “You mean human teleportation?” A pause. “It was."

Your heart races, and you’re about to ask another question when Signora cuts in.

“What about the Aeons? Do they know who you are? Who you were?”

“Lan and Nanook were humans when I was an Archon,” Furina answers. “They became who they are as a consequence of their actions, but we’ve never met before.”

“Hm… Guess they kept a pretty low profile,” Bailu says, picking up a biscuit.

Furina takes a long sip of her tea. “From what I know… They were the first to experiment with dark magic.”

Dressed in a long, black, dark blue robe covering her from head to toe, Furina had recently recovered some of her magic, and because of that, she could sense when any magic was being used. Her foreboding gut feeling took her to a large cemetery in the middle of the night. She stood in front of a large, wrought iron gate. As she stepped forward, the gates eerily opened as if expecting her. The cemetery was quiet except for the soft steps of her shoes against the pavement. Flowers, most of them fresh, were neatly placed on some of the graves. As she got further in, she began hearing voices.

“Goddamit, Lan, you aren’t doing it right.”

“I’d love to see you try, Nanook.”

Furina looked around but there was no one in sight. So, she continued walking in the direction the voices were coming from.

“Perhaps… we need more than just her skull.”

“Great. And where’re we going to find that?”

Two men stood on either side of a grave on a small hill underneath a dead tree. One had longer hair and held an open book while the other held a candle and a small, round gold mirror.

Suddenly, the one holding a mirror said:

“Who’s there?”

The other turned around and narrowed his eyes. Then, he turned back. “Did you see someone, Nanook?”

“I saw something,” Nanook muttered. “Wait…! It might be—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That’s not how this works.”

“How would you know? We’re following instructions from some unknown book where it might be all fake for all we know.”

“Magic exists,” Lan said sternly. “You saw it. I saw it. If normal magic can exist… Why not push it to its boundaries?”

“It was obvious that they were trying to bring someone back from the dead,” Furina says.

Bailu pours herself more tea. “Who?”

“A woman named Idrila.”

Dan Feng immediately looks at her. “Idrila….?”

“Do you know her?” Neuvilette asks.

“She was a princess who lived a short life,” Furina answers, to everyone’s surprise.

“Her parents were at odds with mine,” Dan Feng says. “Her military was the one who invaded us.”

“Invade?” Bailu asks, eyes wide. “So… Was she still around when it happened?”

“No, but it added to the tension. There were rumours that someone from our side poisoned her." He looks at Furina. “You sure are knowledgeable about a lot of people’s lives.”

She chuckles. “Are you suspicious of me?”

“You knew about us,” Dan Feng says. “My brother and I. Yet, we’ve never met you.”

Furina glances at you. “I guess you knew about that because of her.”

“Dan Heng showed me your book,” you say. “The Book of Curses.”

“Clearly, Lan and Nanook weren’t the only ones dabbling in black magic,” Signora says. “I may have thought you were crazy before, but now I have to ask. What made you write something like that?”

Furina finishes her tea and puts down her cup. Her eyes land on Dan Feng. “I knew about the plan you and the Stellaron Hunters came up with to erase magic.”

“How did you know?” Dan Feng asks sternly. “That information was confidential.”

“The Stellaron Hunters suffered a similar problem to how the Archon War started. There will always be a majority, but there will always be someone with different opinions.”

The moon was full; the night was calm. Furina, holding a small oil lamp, stood at the shore of a large river that stretched into the abyss under the night sky.

“You’re early.” Furina spun around, startled that she didn’t hear the tall man approaching behind her. “Don’t be alarmed,” he continued. “I only just got here.”

Furina put the oil lamp on a large log. “Shall we get straight to business then? What does a Stellaron Hunter want with a human?”

“A human?” His red eyes shone in the night. “You are far from human. I saw it myself. You were using advanced magic. Magic that has surpassed human knowledge. You're not a human. Not completely. Am I right?”

“Asking questions when you know the answer…” Furina crossed her arms. “Is this the nature of the Hunters?”

He looked at the lake. “Soon, we’ll be living in a world devoid of magic.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Dan Feng… the sole survivor of the massacre that left his nation in shambles. He wants to rid the world of magic, and most of us are in agreement.”

“I take it you aren’t, considering you’re here.”

The fire in the oil lamp flickered.

“I’m not a stranger to his family,” the man said. “So, we’re acquainted. But I know he is not doing this for the good of the future. He’s doing it to restrain himself. He wants to use black magic to revive his dead family and rebuild the life he once had. He cannot accept what has happened, but he knows bringing the dead to life...”

“Has serious consequences,” Furina finished. “The chances of something going wrong is through the roof.” She sighed. “So, he’s running away from his desires? Is that what you’re saying?”

The man scoffed. “He wants to wipe the world of magic but keep our memories of it alive. It doesn’t make sense if we cannot continue using it. It’s simply being sentimental.”

“Someone sure has some strong feelings.”

“But the majority of us agreed upon this decision,” the man said without a change in his stoic tone. “Dan Feng says he won’t wipe our memories, but who’s to say he won’t.”

The flame flickered again. “Are you looking for a protection spell?”

“I wouldn’t want to fight magic with magic. We all know where that led us.”

“The Book of Curses is more than just a book about magic,” Furina says. “It’s also about our history… of how things came to be.”

The conversation between you and Dan Heng comes flooding back.

“So…” Neuvilette begins. “It was this man who asked you to document everything… Who was he?”

“Blade.”

Everyone turns to Dan Feng who has a stern look.

“What gave it away?” Furina asks amusingly.

“Right.” Bailu sighs. “So, where does this leave us now? We know about the Archon War, Lan and Nanook’s strange past to Idrila who was at odds with Dan Feng's family, and Furina’s book. The big question remains… What are we going to do about our black magic mischiefs?”

“Finding out more about Idrila would be a good place to start,” Zhongli says. “We know she was a princess… but what about her connections? Why would Lan and Nanook want to bring her back?” He looks at Dan Feng. “Have you met her before?”

“No. My brother and I were too young at the time to attend any political meetings. I’ve only heard about her and her sickness.”

“Sickness?” you ask.

Dan Feng and Dan Heng were walking towards the banquet hall for dinner when three maids turned the corner talking amongst themselves.

“Oh, yes, I heard… They were afraid her sickness would be contagious.”

“That would be frightening. I heard it was making her as pale as a ghost!”

“Perhaps that’s why there’s so much buzz about advances in medicinal magic… Still, is this really a good idea? What if we’re playing with fate here? “Upon seeing the brothers, she stopped and bowed. “Good evening, Young Masters!”

“What were you talking about?” Dan Heng asked.

“What is this about a sickness?” Dan Feng added.

The maids glanced at each other, and one of them said:

“The princess of—”

“It’s nothing, really,” one of the other maids interrupted. The brothers glanced at each other. "Dinner should be served shortly. You should hurry. Your parents are waiting.

“What do you think, Bailu?” Neuvilette asks. “You were a renowned doctor. Have you heard of anything like this?”

“Well… There are tons of illnesses that can make someone pale. But it sounds like it’s either just the beginning or a side effect of something.” Bailu looks deep in thought. “I told you before that we were experimenting with immortality. Before that, we were researching immunity. What if we could make people immune to literally every single illness? Or, at least to just develop mild symptoms.

“We’d make millions selling this magic medicine. But, it was way too good to be true. In other words, there could never be a ‘one-size-fits-all’ to medicine since infection takes different forms. But now that you mention it… Ah!”

“What is it?” Dan Feng asks.

“A colleague of mine was researching a strange illness that"—Bailu looks disturbed—"drains people's blood."

“Drains…” Neuvilette begins.

“...Their blood?” Signora finishes. "Do I want to know how that works?”

“It’s like…” Bailu hums quietly as she wonders how to explain it in simple terms. “...Like Death is living inside of you. Your blood slowly stops running to different parts of your body and then once it stops at the heart… you just… die.”

“Well, now that that nightmare is ingrained in everyone’s minds, is this an illness that’s inherited? Can someone get infected? If not…” Signora looks at Dan Feng. “Why would there be rumours of someone poisoning her?”

“If I remember correctly,” Dan Feng says. “She died earlier than she should’ve.”

“Does this illness still exist?” you ask. “If we could find records of it or anything about it, might give us a better understanding of this woman… and possibly her connection to Lan and Nanook.”

“Now that you mention it…” Bailu says. “The hospital I used to work at is still around.” She smiles. “Maybe it’s the perfect time for me to say hi.”

“I’d be concerned if someone remembers you,” Neuvilette deadpans.

Signora sighs. “I guess this is all we can do right now.”

“Hey.” Noticing Dan Feng is looking at her, Furina turns to him. “You met Dan Heng and his mother. Then, have you met the others? Tsaritsa… Pierro… Childe?”

“Not personally… I know of them but Dan Heng and his mother never talked about them.”

“Did you ever tell Dan Heng about his past self?” you ask. “You gave him that book, after all.”

“I wanted him to find out for himself,” Furina answers. “But, I don’t think he did. Perhaps he treated everything like it was fiction.”

“Why?” Dan Feng asks sternly. “Why would you want to make him remember what happened?"

Bailu looks at him worriedly. “Brother Moon…” 

“I—”

A loud ring interrupts Furina. She stands, walks over to the counter, and looks at the caller on the screen.

“...I’m sorry,” she says to the group. “This conversation will have to wait.”

And you think it’s for the best.

After saying your goodbyes, you and everyone else are at the apartment’s front entrance when Signora asks:

“Keeping Idrila a secret from Tsaritsa… What do you all think?”

Neuvilette nods. “Not until we have more information.”

Bailu’s hand is in a small fist, and she pats her chest. “You can count on me! I’ll get something for sure.”

“Is the hospital where you’ve been disappearing when you visit every dragon year?” Zhongli asks.

“Oh, well, you see…”

You and Dan Feng are standing a little behind the group, and as Bailu talks about her hustle, you glance at him.

“Hey…” Dan Feng looks at you. “You okay?”

“Yeah…” He sighs.

“I had the same question,” you say quietly. “Why did she want to make Dan Heng remember? And… I remember what you said before about people being doppelgangers upon their reincarnation.”

“In short, it has to do with how they accepted their death at the time they died. If they can’t accept it, they can be reincarnated with the same face and name, which signifies a continuation of their life. If they accept it, they can be reincarnated as a new person, which means a new start.”

“I don’t know how Dan Heng died back then… but”—you sigh—”it sounds like he has unfinished business or something.”

“My impression was that she murdered him…” Dan Feng says quietly. “But”—he puts a hand to his head—”I suppose I can’t say that with confidence considering he was already dead by the time I found them. But, she was the only one with him. It wouldn’t make sense for my brother to kill himself. Or, someone else killed him and spared her." He sighs. "But that doesn't make sense either."

“With the way she died, it sounds feasible to say that she was poisoned.” You quickly look at him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t make all these assumptions when there’s nothing to go on.”

“No… It’s something I never considered before because”—he closes his eyes for a brief moment—”I wanted to blame someone. All I have are pieces of what happened, and if I convinced myself that she murdered my brother, I'd have closure."

“Then… Let’s gather the missing pieces and start putting them together.”

“Hey!” You and Dan Feng look ahead and see your friends in front of a cab. “Are you two lovebirds done chit-chatting over there?”

You sigh with a little smile. “It's not like we have a choice now."

Dan Feng smiles at you. “You’re right.”

As you and Dan Feng head to the cab, your phone buzzes with a message. Without stopping, you take it out of your pocket and…

Dan Feng, a short distance away, turns back. “What is it?” When he doesn’t get a reply, he walks over and sees the chilling message on your screen from an unknown number.

Found you

Chapter 14

End notes:

Still thinking about how I wanna push Jing Yuan in here XD and Blade may or may not get an appearance next chapter (finally)

Tag list: @lunavixia @aerithsthingss @sunsethw4 @boomie-123